Ambushed

Many roads lead to the capital city of the Iron Kingdom. From the duchy, though, there are two main roads. One is a long road that wrinkled throughout to swerve through the mountains and its thick greenery, and the other is short that goes straight to a valley deep into a forest.

Since the day is young, there's no worry that the Third Prince's group will encounter a possessed beast, so they chose the short road.

The only dangers are possible bandits, thieves, people from an enemy kingdom, and normal animals- which doesn't faze Prince Frederick and his escorts.

After some time of leaving the duchy, the Third Prince broke the silence.

"It's weird. That place was really weird." He spoke from within the carriage. The first person to reply to him was their scout.

"True, Prince, that place reeks of sweetness."

This man was thin and had sunken cheeks, long unkempt hair, and dark bags under his eyes. His words were far from praising the duchy.

"Isn't that good? A place filled with smiles is a rare sight to see." A huge man, clad in armor, in front of the group, replied to the scout. He is the vanguard.

"Not necessarily though? They all seem weak!" the scout replied. His dark eyes showed like he had tasted something bitter.

"Hmm... how do you say so?" Prince Frederick asked.

"Though we weren't inside for long, I don't see anyone who had the eyes of a fighter. Except for the Duke of course. That man is worthy of his title!"

"Haha, if not for the occasion, I would've challenged the Duke of Guillotine." Daras laughed before shaking his head in deep disappointment.

"It's good that you restrained yourself, Daras." Prince Frederick commented. He knew how childish Daras can get when this guy sees someone strong. He then continued, "But they are not weak. Are you forgetting that their small territory defended against one of the biggest bandits in Colveil, the Light Marauders?"

"But Prince, that was still when the Guill members were active. Now, because of the King's suppression, they have disbanded. Duke Rholes' territory is basically vulnerable." the scout replied in a relaxed manner.

Within the carriage, Prince Frederick's edge of his lips lifted.

"That is true..."

Hearing this, the scout scratched his cheek and asked, "Is there someone disrespectful there, Prince?"

Prince Frederick sounded irritated, and this was a rare sight even for the escorts. The image this prince projects on his father's people is a kind, humble, and respectful man. Noticing his tone, everyone was curious about what tipped the prince off. From what they learned; the event went smoothly.

No- one thing comes to everyone's mind.

"Disrespectful? No..."

Prince Frederick didn't continue but another stout man from the back did.

"Is it because of the rat?"

The main man of yesterday's event, the Duke's adopted son, didn't see the Prince out. Although this is a very small thing among the common people, these formalities are crucial among nobilities.

The noble families prioritize power and influence. Needless to say, the politics that occur between them is immense. Every movement, every body language, and every word can be interpreted into something else.

Even though the King hates the Dukes, he still sent one of the princes as a witness. That's politics. The Prince even gave a gift to Eid.

Even Daras and the rest who are nobles by the title of a knight; whom one could say are pseudo nobles, know the workings between the officials. Thus, that small move of Eid not showing up to see the Third Prince off is what came to everyone's mind as disrespectful.

"The rat... don't call him rat... once his Nobility Mark gains permanence, those words will come back to bite you," scolded Prince Frederick before continuing with a rather condescending tone, "I don't blame him for being rude. That is his nature."

The smile he wore then disappeared.

"The discomforting thing is the servants' behavior. How can they be so carefree in front of their masters?"

Oh, that is true. Everyone there thought but they didn't think of it as that weird. If there is anything else, this is a testament to Duke Rhole's benevolence. Once settled on his new territory years ago, he may have treated the servants so kindly that they've become carefree as well.

Just like the old saying goes "Give them an inch and they will take a mile."

While the conversation between the Third Prince and his escorts, the scout suddenly stopped them, "General..." and gave a hand sign without speaking another word.

The General, Daras, knew what the scout meant and repeated the hand sign to the group.

"Why did we stop?" asked Prince Frederick.

"I sense nearby people..." The scout hunched and focused on his smell.

Sniff sniff* He drew closer to the source of the smell and away from the group.

"Two people... one is around seventy meters away, a woman, while the other..." the scout sniffed again, "... a man, fifty meters- no, forty meters? Thirty-!" his eyes widened and immediately warned the others.

Daras unsheathed his long sword as he commanded, "Defense formation!"

The vanguard and the stout man immediately went on both sides of the carriage in order to protect the prince. The scout's hand pointed to the left side of the thick forest relative to the road, revealing the scent was there, so the stronger among the two -the stout man- was positioned there.

The scout was also on the move and unsheathed his daggers. But before he could raise his arms to form a defensive stance, something flashed from the shadows of the thick forest, and the world before him turned around. The last thing the scout saw was his headless body still standing. His vision darkened before his body fell to the ground.

"Protect the prince!"

Daras immediately shouted and charged toward the dashing figure that beheaded the scout. The figure was quick in his attempt to return to the other side of the road as he is quick to come out and behead the scout.

However, Daras was confident with his speed even though his body was filled with tough and heavy muscles. He was faster than the seemingly flying figure clad in black. In a moment, the General was about to catch the assassin when something rang from a direction he couldn't tell where.

At that moment, the words of the dead scout resurfaced in his mind.

There are two people!

Daras stopped his movement and jerked the long sword up. There was then a clash of iron that rang out and sparks came from that clash.

The idiot said seventy meters!

Daras felt the desire to slice the scout apart if only that scout was not already dead. But, with his sharp reaction and developed instinct, he only received a slit on his right cheek when he deflected the incoming blade.

Wasting no time, the General increased his speed on his left foot and kicked the ground. The burst of strength he showed is inhumane. This pushed him toward the second dark figure with his blade.

You're trying to kill me by surprise? Now, that you failed, what are you going to do!?

Filled with instinctual rage that was developed from the wars he fought, Daras was able to turn the table as if he had been the assassin from the start.

The General's sword lightly flashed with a white glow. It was an Imbued!

The second dark figure, however, had only raised the second blade in her left hand to block Daras' strike.

Another sound of metal clashing resounded before the dark figure flipped over the air and landed safely on the ground. However, not unscathed.

"Strong..."

A feminine voice inside the figure's mask echoed in pain before disappearing into the woods again.

"You're not going to escape!"

Daras dashed to the escaping figure. He strengthened his legs, making him faster; his momentum unstoppable. It's only a matter of time before Daras caught up with his target.

His every footstep created a light tremor on the ground as he closed the distance.

The dark figure seemed to slow down but nimble as ever.

When he was about to reach the dark figure and clash with her again, Daras was about to raise his sword. That's when his instinct told him something was wrong... Although his reaction is superb, when Daras noticed something very thin flashed before his eyes, just right above the figure's head but right in the middle of his, it was already too late.

His unstoppable momentum would cause him his death.

General Daras, considered a War Hero by few and hailed from a noble family, would die in a place like this.

That was the moment he regretted not wearing a helmet beforehand...

His body continued forward but soon tripped on its own. It lay there lifeless as blood spurt from its head that's been horizontally split in half. The remaining part of his head still attached to his body only shows half of his nose with the rest somewhere on the ground.

The dark figure stopped. It seemed that she had done her part successfully.

"Meathead..."

She muttered as she held the middle of her chest. That one counterattack almost made her faint from the pain. If she wasn't able to reduce the impact, she would've died there and then.

However, her task is still not completely done. At least that's what she says to herself.

'The sword of the young master does not feel pain!'

She then forced herself to run back to the dirt road, knowing where to dodge the strings placed as traps. There were only seven of them, so it wasn't that hard.

For those who did not know, however, it was impossible to see until they were close enough.

Toko, the woman clad in a black suit, came out of the shadows. The sun had detached itself from the horizon and made the sky bluer.

However, her sights were not on the beautiful sky but on a much prettier scene in front of her. Every time the strings flashed, reflecting the sunlight, blood was spilled.

The first dark figure didn't escape but as Toko baits the General out, he returned and began his massacre.

There were men on the ground as they had either bled to death or had their heads taken away from them.

The only ones standing were the vanguard and the stout man. The vanguard was in a better position as his full-on armor protected him from the thin strings. Meanwhile, the stout man was huffing his last breaths as his burly body was filled with cuts. Fortunately, his skin was threefold tougher than the average man's. This let him be one of the two that survived the dark figure's onslaught. He knew, however, that's not going to last.

"W-who are you!?"

The stout man asked the masked man as he raised his bare fists.

He felt desperate and didn't know how to let Prince Frederick escape in this ambush.

"Who are you?" Eid nonchalantly and mockingly replied before he leaped and flicked his hand, throwing three needles attached to three strings. The needles were fast and almost invisible, furthermore, instead of a straight line, their trajectories bent, making it impossible for the two men to deflect all needles.

Some hit their skin but even if the needles did miss them, the needles would continue to go around them. All Eid had to do was pull the string from his end and that needle would return from a weird angle. The pulled string would tighten and straighten, slicing them before the needle would give a deeper wound.

Because of this strange trajectory, the dead men on the ground sustained deep cuts that drained them of their blood.

However, this is not the first attack, so the stout man and the vanguard had already planned their next move. They have to go on offense and decrease the distance. At least, this would scare the seemingly frail attacker away and let them stall time until their general comes back to aid them, and for the carriage to go farther away from these assassins.

Unfortunately for them, no matter how long they stall the dark figure, the dead would not return for them.

Furthermore, the attacker's reflexes are above theirs, easily evading their heavy but slow attacks. The vanguard had greater strength than the average man. That strength increases his speed as well, but it was not enough to catch the slippery attacker. The more they attack, the more damage they received. They also have to dodge some strings that would hit their fatal spots, slowing them down while the attacker would just gain more speed, especially for the stout man.

Since his fists are his main weapons, the stout man has a smaller reach than the vanguard wielding a halberd.

Watching the two remaining soldiers struggle as they fight for their lives from the sideline, Toko huffed as her face behind the mask turned red.

"... beautiful..." She gulped with glittering eyes. Her arms were tightly wrapped under her chest as shivers went up her spine. The face Toko wore was not the innocent nor the cold face Eid is familiar with.

As Eid wrapped three levels of strings around the vanguard's neck, he pulled, beheading another victim. At the same time, the stout man finally succumbed to his blood loss and fell to the ground with a hopeless expression.

Seeing no one around them other than the dead bodies, Eid let out a long relieved sigh as he stretched his arms up.

"That was therapeutic!"