Chapter 41
“Wait, what are you suddenly—”
Her question wasn’t even finished when Lerazier flung open the carriage door. He grabbed onto the luggage rail above like it was a handle. With a nimble twist of his body, he leapt into the air, used the momentum to swing back, and even kicked the door shut with both feet in one smooth motion.
Through the transparent front window of the carriage, Calliope could see Lerazier take the reins from the coachman and begin to whip the horses faster.
“Wah…!”
As expected, the carriage shook even more violently. Calliope clutched the handle fixed to the wall, bracing herself so she wouldn’t bounce around like a ball.
“What’s going on all of a sudden…? Don’t tell me, bandits?”
Even in the midst of chaos, Calliope recalled Lerazier telling her to put a defensive spell on the carriage.
“Damn it…”
To cast magic in a carriage shaking hard enough to make her stomach churn—
“Just because I’m a mage doesn’t mean I can do everything,” she muttered, even as she snapped her free hand into motion.
She could feel it—the mana drifting in the air. Practically infinite, the mana of nature itself.
“Shield.”
At her incantation, magic rippled outward from her and spread across the entire carriage like a shell.
As if knowing the shield was in place, Lerazier began to slow the carriage. Soon, it stopped midway up a wide mountain path.
The moment Calliope pushed open the door and stepped out, Lerazier jumped down from the coachman’s seat, frowning.
“I told you not to come out—it’s dangerous.”
“If it’s dangerous for me, then it’s dangerous for you too, isn’t it?”
Just then—
Swhip! An arrow sliced through the air.
With instinctive speed, Lerazier twisted his body, pulling Calliope close as he dodged. The arrow scraped past them and struck the magical barrier around the carriage.
“H-hhk…!”
The coachman gave a strangled cry and clapped both hands over his mouth.
Pale-faced, Lerazier gently shoved the man into the safety of the carriage.
“How many?”
As Calliope loosened her hands and readied herself, Lerazier drew his sword and answered.
“Sixteen.”
“That’s… quite a lot.”
Even before their exchange was over, figures began to emerge from the dense trees.
“So it really is bandits,” Calliope muttered.
But Lerazier studied them closely.
They looked like bandits, yes. But he knew better.
Not bandits.
Assassins, maybe. But ordinary bandits? Never. The refined bloodlust emanating from them could never belong to mere highwaymen.
He sensed several were exceptionally skilled. Their blades glinted with a chilling sheen under the sun.
Turning to her, Lerazier spoke.
“Be careful, Calliope Verdi.”
Then, with a flick of his hand toward the approaching enemies, he said:
“Come.”
No rallying cries of kill them—nothing.
And yet, the assassins surged forward without a sound, sharp killing intent radiating from them.
Steel clashed with steel, ringing out in shrill, piercing echoes that filled the forest.
Lerazier evaded swords coming from every direction, counterthrusting with his own blade. His swordsmanship was stripped bare of any waste.
“Ugh…! Kkghh!”
One man collapsed, his cruciate ligaments slashed.
Lerazier left him incapacitated without a glance, pivoting toward the next opponent.
That makes three Sword Experts, he calculated.
The rest—mostly Aura Users.
Lerazier’s eyes grew cold. This much firepower meant their enemy was determined to see blood spilled.
Even after failing so many times, still persistent…?
He had thought they’d given up, since such attacks had stopped for a while. But here they were again.
Unless it’s a Sword Master, no one can match me. Yet every time…
Then, like lightning, a thought struck him.
Could it be… their target wasn’t him?
Calliope Verdi?
His momentary lapse was all it took.
An assassin lunged, blade thrust toward Lerazier’s heart.
“Watch out!”
Calliope’s sharp cry rang out. At the same instant, she launched both a massive water blast and a barrier.
The blade slammed into the magical wall, while the water bomb struck the assassin full in the face, knocking him out cold.
She blinked in surprise at the result.
“That actually worked?”
Lerazier let out a small laugh.
From there, the tide turned quickly.
Together, the two of them overwhelmed their attackers. In moments, the assassins were down, groaning and writhing on the ground.
“Ugh… kkh…”
Lerazier approached the most skilled of the bunch.
“Ugh…!”
He grabbed the man’s hair, jerking his head back.
“Who sent you?”
“….”
The assassin only glared in silence.
Lerazier caught his wrist twitching toward the dagger at his waist and crushed it in his grip.
“Khghh!”
“I’ll ask again. Who hired you?”
Bound and overpowered, the assassin clenched his teeth.
“For His Glory.”
“…What?”
Before Lerazier could react, blood gushed from the man’s mouth. His eyes rolled back.
Realization hit Lerazier instantly.
“Calliope—!”
“For His Glory.”
“For His Glory.”
One after another, the assassins muttered the same words in eerie unison, blood trickling from their lips as they collapsed, lifeless.
“Damn it…”
Lerazier laid the corpse down and stood, jaw tight.
Then he saw her.
Calliope stood frozen, face deathly pale, body trembling.
“Calliope.”
He turned toward her, deliberately shifting her gaze away from the fallen dead.
“…Lerazier Dion Arenfrit.”
Her eyes, trembling with fear, seemed to ask: What on earth just happened?
This is why I tried to subdue them without killing… Lerazier thought grimly.
Calliope Verdi—despite her formidable destructive power—had likely never taken a life. Not once. It was against her very values.
And she’s surely never seen so many die at once, either.
Meeting her wavering violet eyes, he said firmly:
“Pull yourself together, Calliope Verdi. They tried to kill us. It wasn’t us who killed them.”
His voice was cold, but steady. And it worked.
Slowly, the storm of confusion and shock in her eyes began to settle.
“Haa…”
She pressed a hand to her chest, taking deep breaths until her reason returned.
Looking back at the corpses, she murmured:
“So they weren’t just bandits.”
Lerazier nodded.
“No. Assassins.”
Calliope began to walk among the bodies, studying them closely.
At last, she knelt before the one Lerazier had interrogated earlier.
“This man…”
She looked up at him.
“There’s a trace of mana stone energy. Strong, even though he doesn’t have one on him. That only happens when someone’s been in contact with a large quantity of mana stones.”
“Wait—mana stones?”
Lerazier’s head snapped toward the carriage. He bolted toward the wagon attached at the back—the one carrying their cargo.
But it was already too late.
The door of the supply wagon stood wide open.
