Chapter 21: First Mission (4)

Chapter 21: First Mission (4)

Orhen and I rushed out of the tent without hesitation. There was no need to be discreet like before.

It was a futile action in the already chaotic courtyard filled with loud screams.

Fortunately, amidst the confusion, it wasnt Denifs voice we heard.

Had something gone wrong while he was dealing with one issue and then another?

There was a possibility. It was one of the anticipated risks.

Denif was still a child. If he had hesitated like Orhen, there could have been a problem.

The situation outside was the same as before.

While heading towards the tent where Denif had entered, someone suddenly emerged from a distant tent.

Messy gray hair that covered his forehead. I recognized the distinctive impression, confirming that it was Jose Demit.

He smirked with bloodshot eyes. He looked like he had just woken up after a heavy drinking session.

What the hell? There are brats here

Demit laughed hollowly upon seeing the dagger in our hands.

Just some brats, it seems.

His face showed more amusement than tension at the unexpected attack. Did he have that much confidence?

As I pondered, Denif roughly opened the tent and came out.

I quickly examined Denif.

He didnt seem injured. Though his face and body were covered in blood, it wasnt his blood.

Are you okay?

Yeah, sorry. I was trying to finish one, but the guy sleeping next to them suddenly woke up.

Denif retorted nonchalantly and spat out some blood. His mouth had turned red, perhaps from the blood getting in.

Denif smirked at me.

Anyway, I took care of both of them, so dont worry.

Okay.

Not bad. It would have been ideal to silently deal with the riffraff and ambush Demit as well.

After all, we had assumed the scenario of the three of us facing one opponent.

His skills and fighting style were unknown, but we could figure that out from now on.

Denif moved slowly and stood in front of us.

It was a prearranged formation.

Nevertheless, I felt a sense of reassurance. While playing games, I had called him a bastard, but now he was an ally.

Who are you guys?

Demit furrowed his brow, glancing at the tent and then glaring at us.

It was a contemplative expression.

I didnt sense any particular wariness from him. Maybe due to his age, he was disregarding us.

Or perhaps he was confident in his abilities.

Id better not rush in now

It was a sudden thought, but I held my head down internally. Denif, the first line of defense, also remained still.

Lets not let our guard down.

Mission failures often start with minor carelessness. It could be his strategy.

As we observed each other cautiously, the crackling sound of the bonfire in the hideout reverberated distinctly.

With every flicker of the fire, our shadows grew and shrank, swaying around.

I gently pushed Orhen back and took a step forward.

Denif was in the first line, and I was in the second. I would support Denif and protect Orhen.

I discreetly sheathed my dagger and gripped the hilt of my longsword.

The combat would begin the moment Denif made a move. For Denif to remain still would be

The way he stared at Demit, his brow furrowed, told me he was not just some trash.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. Demit scratched the back of his head.

Hah, damn it. What the hell is going on?

Muttering to himself, Demit sighed deeply.

So, you guys are assassins? My subordinates are all dead.

Youre smarter than I thought.

You little so arrogant.

Demit burst into laughter as if our words were absurd.

Where are they raising these brats?

His remark was sharp. How could he guess that in this situation? He seemed quite exceptional.

But I shouldnt underestimate him. It might be more challenging than I thought.

What the hell are you talking about?

Denif retorted, but a beat too late. Even from an objective standpoint, his demeanor was pierced.

Yeah.

Demit chuckled instead of pressing further.

Its unbelievable. Just because weve been busy with other tasks, were designated as training targets for these brats.

Demit raised his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Heres the final question. Where are you bastards from? If you tell me, Ill let you go easily.

Although his face carried a smile, it was clear that the notion of letting us go easily was far from the truth.

But there must be a way.

It was the mission given by Haisens Chief of Intelligence. It must have been challenging, but there was a way forward.

I cant afford to spare Denif, even if hes injured.

Carlyn realized that now was the time to use his Mystic ability.

His Mystic was an ability that the enemy didnt expect, so he kept it as a last resort.

And at that moment, something brushed Carlyns mind.

On the other hand, Demit was quickly pondering.

The kids skills were far beyond what he had anticipated. They werent just ordinary kids.

They were clearly kids who had been diligently trained. If that was the case, it was pointless to waste any more time.

No matter what happened, when he became a training target, this operation had already gone awry.

There was no way they sent only these kids. There must be someone watching them from somewhere nearby.

With his current identity, he couldnt continue his activities.

The people observing them would likely be of a high caliber, considering the kids they were raising.

Even if they were former retirees from the front lines, they would become more of a nuisance than necessary.

Demit suppressed his excitement. He needed to remain calm and composed.

If I just kill the kids and run away..

If he did that, a skilled and enraged pursuer would chase after him.

Demit quickly made a decision based on his long experience and remembered the face of the kid at the forefront.

Well meet again later.

Leaving the kids unharmed or killing them all would undoubtedly attract pursuit teams.

But there wouldnt be many people watching. He had experienced that several times.

On a small scale, maybe three. If there are more, then five.

Considering his fake identity, it was unlikely that there would be five. At most, there would be two.

He needed to inflict serious injuries and escape.

Between someone he might be able to capture and a talented kid, the latter had a higher chance of being chosen.

After all, the kids couldnt catch up with his speed.

Demit naturally found his prey.

Emotions were excluded. Targeting the magician at the back was the surest way to stop all the other kids.

All these thoughts took place in a matter of seconds.

At a reasonable distance, Marhan was also contemplating. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

He was contemplating whether to intervene. Since deviating from the formation, the atmosphere of the target had changed.

The altered atmosphere and the speed briefly shown were beyond the expected range.

With his extensive experience, he realized that the existing information was incorrect.

This practical training was a failure. Who could have interfered? Was there new information about the mystic?

Of course, there was a high probability that he had failed to assess the opponents level accurately.

It was a very basic mistake.

Those little bastards.

Marhan pushed aside his thoughts and focused on the situation calmly. It wasnt the time to ponder that.

Marhan made his decision as well.

The strategy within the predetermined plan relied on the abilities of the kids, but this was different.

Just as Marhan was about to intervene, Demit struck the ground.

Demit rushed toward Denif at lightning speed. Denif prepared himself, but it was futile.

As the swords collided, Demit passed by Denif.

Carlyn and Orhen were right behind. Demit struck the ground and soared over Carlyn.

Orhen was right in front of him.

If Demit stabbed his sword into Orhens abdomen and made his escape, it would be over. He had memorized Orhens face for the report.

But something intervened at that moment.

It wasnt a person.

Winds. Winds wrapped around Demits body. It didnt stop him, but it slowed down his speed.

Of course, it wasnt enough to change the outcome. In the midst of Demits confusion, the tip of the sword was still directed at Orhen.

And then, Carlyn suddenly intervened between the sword and Orhen.

Thunk!

The tip of the sword entered Carlyns side. Carlyn grabbed Demits sword with his left hand.

Blood seeped from his abdomen and left palm.

Carlyn gritted his teeth, enduring the searing pain, and swung his right hand.

All his focus was on the Winds.

Demit tried to withdraw his sword, but he couldnt move momentarily due to the winds wrapping around his body.

Mystic? That cant be.

Carlyns sword pierced through from close range. Demit witnessed that moment clearly.

As the sword pierced his shoulder, he felt a sense of impending danger coming from behind.

Surely it was some worthless bastard. Damn it. Is this how I die? It was a ridiculous turn of events.

At that moment, as Demit was stabbed by Carlyns sword, the person who had stabbed him cried out.

Dont kill him!