6kv Chapter 264
Chapter 264
“Well, how was it?”
Edin Molsen’s father asked.
He spoke without even lifting his head, only moving his lips as he sat at his desk, so the man who had been Edin Molsen’s guard had to respond while looking at the top of his head.
The guard, standing straight, began to speak.
“He has opened the Will. At least at the level of a Squire.”
To rise, to open, to reach, to awaken, to achieve.
There were various ways to describe using the ‘Will’, but the important thing here was just one:
The fact that he could use the ‘Will’.
A man with black hair and blue eyes, intriguing, but not someone who needed to be brought in immediately.
“He used the Will?”
The quill pen, which had been scribbling something, stopped. Count raised his head. His eyes clearly showed a change in emotion.
The guard thought it was a rare occurrence, while Count asked again and fell into thought.
‘I knew he was the subject of considerable rumors, but Will?’
It meant he had truly reached the level of a Squire.
There was a significant difference between an actual ‘Squire’ and someone merely ‘at the level of a Squire’.
Comparing a mere swordsman with someone who could use the Will was absurd.
Yet the world often used the term ‘at the level of a Squire’.
It implied that someone could somewhat match up to a Squire without the Will.
Count knew all too well how meaningless that term was.
Count, who had now completely put down his quill, sat back in his chair.
‘The Will?’
He repeated the words he had spoken out loud in his mind. It wasn’t his intention. It just happened naturally.
It wasn’t something that could easily be overlooked.
He had already suspected that this person had far surpassed the level of a Squire.
When people on the continent talked about being at the level of a Squire, it usually meant someone who was barely at the level of a Squire.
In other words, people who trained their body and mind without the Will.
Among them, some lived indulgent lives and still awakened to the Will.
Others lived lives almost as ascetic as monks, training constantly, and eventually became Squires.
Their common trait was that they were all at least landowners and were all renowned for their martial prowess.
So being a Squire was synonymous with being a fearsome, skilled swordsman.
Given this, how hollow was the phrase ‘at the level of a Squire’?
But this wasn’t just that, it meant he had reached the same level as a true Squire?
The guard observed the Count’s face. Apart from the change in his eyes, his expression remained the same. He only adjusted his facial muscles in an aloof, almost pretentious manner.
Count spoke with a slight smile.
“This has become interesting.”
Count abandoned most of the plans he had been silently pondering and formulating.
“What do you think?”
He asked again, seeking the guard’s insight. The guard hesitated for a moment.
How much should he reveal?
This man’s true nature was unknowable. He wasn’t someone to be trusted.
“A madman.”
A noble of Naurillia, yet someone who had forged an alliance, though not officially, with the Hurrier family of Aspen.
The guard was here as evidence of that.
In name, he was Count’s guard, a retainer, but in reality, he was a member of the Hurrier family of Aspen.
Thus, his true identity was a Squire of Aspen.
This was the result of a tangled mess created by those above, but as a Squire, he had no concern for political insight.
He was only clearly aware of one simple fact:
This man was plotting something, and Aspen had accepted it.
‘Could this man even feel a father’s love?’
That doesn’t seem likely.
The lingering twilight had quietly seeped into the office through the window, bathing the room in a warm orange hue.
The guard carefully chose his words and spoke.
“He is a very difficult and challenging person to deal with, someone who exerts a peculiar influence on those around him.”
“So, he’s the type who gathers people and keeps them under his command?”
That wasn’t quite it. It was a bit different.
“No, that’s not it. However…”
The guard paused for a moment,
The entire territory might expand.
The hunchback whose wrist had been broken reached out with the other hand.
Before the opponent’s arm could fully extend, Encrid’s right fist snapped forward in a sharp punch.
To an ordinary person, like Krais who was nearby, it was too fast to see.
All he heard was a sudden whoosh followed by a cracking sound.
Even Esther, who was in Encrid’s arms, was a little surprised by how little she felt from the impact.
“He’s gotten even more precise.”
As a witch, she couldn’t quite discern what had changed in Encrid, but her instincts told her something had.
After breaking the hunchback’s jaw.
Wearing a thick robe, Encrid grabbed the hood and yanked it off, revealing a hunched figure with a thick mane of hair.
The process of breaking the wrist, delivering the punch, and pulling off the robe took only a few breaths.
But as soon as this brief sequence ended, a projectile suddenly flew toward them.
With his Sixth Sense heightened, Encrid opened his palm and swung at the incoming projectile.
The projectile dropped straight to the ground with a sharp thud.
It was a dart.
“These guys are no pushovers.”
Encrid remarked, lightly nudging the dart with his foot.
“…Is that something to say after you’ve already taken them down so easily?”
Krais spoke in disbelief. What did he mean by “no pushovers”?
Esther suddenly leaped out from Encrid’s arms. When the panther landed on the ground, a few people nearby were startled.
Some had seen the fallen hunchback, others noticed the knife in his hand, and they all saw Encrid and Krais.
While the passing merchants might not recognize their faces, the Border Guard locals certainly would.
“A knife!”
“An attack!”
“An assassin!”
Wow, they jumped straight to “assassin” just by seeing him?
That shout only added to the chaos.
The area was already crowded, filled with screams, the shouts of merchants, and stall owners trying to protect their goods. It was a complete mess.
Encrid expanded his senses, scanning his surroundings.
Nothing stood out.
This was why he said the opponents were no pushovers.
‘They were undetectable until they went in for the stab.’
The person who threw the dart must have immediately hidden themselves in the crowd, making it impossible to find them.
This meant they had mastered the art of concealment.
Encrid focused, thinking that if there were fewer people around, he might be able to track them down.
Where are you?
He questioned in his mind, engaging his sight, hearing, smell, and touch.
By adding his Sixth Sense to what he could see, hear, smell, and feel, he could roughly determine the direction.
There was a faint killing intent.
The moment he concentrated in that direction, something flew at him from behind with a whoosh. It was slower than the dart but heavier.
‘A stone throw?’
With that sudden thought, Encrid turned his body.
The projectile came into view. Thanks to his intense training, his eyes had developed incredible visual acuity, allowing him to see the thrown object clearly.
It was a leather pouch.
Encrid acted on a strange instinct, purely driven by gut feeling.
Drawing his gladius, he twisted his wrist so that the broad side of the blade was facing upward, then swung it up to strike the incoming pouch.
Thud! Bang-bang-bang-bang!
The pouch exploded in mid-air, releasing a shower of metal spikes in all directions.
‘Oh?’
This is a new one.
“Ahhhh!”
A few spikes fell to the ground.
Since it was winter and everyone was wearing thick clothing, only a few people were actually pricked.
But the chaos grew even worse than before.
“Damn it! Everyone, get inside the buildings! If you stay out here, you’ll be considered the enemy!”
The shout of a soldier patrolling the market echoed.
It was appropriate. In situations like this, it was better to subdue the chaos with force and suppress it with authority.
Encrid didn’t move. He simply kept a close watch on his surroundings.
Krais, after looking around, decided that staying put was actually the safest option and stopped where he was.
Ping!
In the meantime, two more darts were fired, one of which was aimed at Krais.
The flying dart drew a line as it approached. That line extended, and within Encrid’s heightened senses, the endpoint and trajectory of that line were clear.
His concentration exploded. It was a moment of intense focus.
Keen senses, sharp focus, and bold instincts came together in perfect harmony.
Encrid moved as if executing a well-rehearsed trick.
He dodged the dart aimed at him with just a slight tilt of his head and caught the other one in mid-air by reaching out with his hand.
It all happened in a single motion, within a single breath.
If the assassin who threw the darts had witnessed this, their hair would have stood on end.
They would have felt their bladder tremble, overwhelmed by the urge to flee immediately.
And they likely had seen it.
Encrid caught the dart and casually dangled it by its end with two fingers.
‘These bastards?’
They were targeting Krais?
Meanwhile, another dart came flying in with a slight delay.
This one was aimed at Esther, but by then, the panther had already evaded it.
How many humans could match the swift movements of a beast?
The dart that struck the spot where the panther had been was the only evidence that she had been targeted.
Grrr.
Esther growled, displaying her hostility, while Encrid kept his senses wide open.
The assassin—or rather, the group of assassins—was highly skilled.
‘They deliberately let out killing intent and threw that pouch of metal spikes.’
And wasn’t it likely those spikes were poisoned? They probably were.
Fleeting killing intent could be felt in various places, then quickly disappeared.
“Don’t push! I said don’t push!”
“Don’t step on me!”
“Do you even know who you’re shoving?”
“Help me!”
“Ahhhh!”
“Get out of the way, move!”
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And the market descended further into chaos.
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