Within the rain, Allen lifted a hand to the side of his neck, smearing the blood before pressing down over the wound.
Rainwater mixed with blood slipped steadily between his fingers.
A moment before this, he had already activated a healing spell. Intermediate Healing Magic was enough to immediately mend the clean slash—but even so, a bit of blood had still seeped into his windpipe, filling his throat with the metallic tang of rust.
Covering the wound wasn't just reflex—it was a deliberate move to hide the glow of his healing magic, to appear weaker than he was. The enemy's strength was obvious. It wasn't the time to reveal his cards.
He raised his gaze and stared at the four twitching rabbit ears visible in the downpour, a flicker of surprise flashing in his eyes.
Rabbit ears? I think that's the Mildett Tribe, right? Are they really this strong? Who are they...?
His memory of the original story flipped through his mind at lightning speed. But before he could pin anything down, the enemy spoke first.
From the left, a Mildett tribesman dressed in leather armor called out teasingly through the rain.
"Well, well… even with that perfectly timed strike, he still didn't die. Impressive. That really was the [Longsword of Silence], huh? And that speed? So you're not just Water God Style—you've picked up Sword God Style too? Too bad… Looks like you haven't hit Saint-tier yet. If you could use the [Longsword of Light], things'd get really tricky. Terrifying talent… isn't it, Gard?"
Next to him, a small-framed rabbit-eared woman—her body wrapped in soaked black bands—spoke with a sultry lilt.
"So scary, Nuckle-nii~ Sooo scary."
She twirled her blood-red hair beside her ear and gave Allen a slow, deliberate once-over. The wet cloth clung tightly to her curves in the rain.
"And us, as North God Sword Kings… you think we could walk away alive against someone like him?"
Nuckle stared fixedly at Allen's hand covering his neck.
"No idea," he replied lazily. "But…"
The woman stuck out her tongue.
"If we can't kill him… we can always kill those kids behind him, can't we?"
North God Style—Chiba Faction.
Ruthless on the battlefield. They'd use any advantage—deception, seduction, manipulation—anything to secure a win.
And yet... standing opposite them was someone who knew the script.
Allen listened to the back-and-forth with a brief pause. His eyes narrowed with faint amusement.
Nuckle. Gard.
Twin assassins—each claiming one name.
Together, they were the infamous North God Style "Twin Blades."
In the original story's Asura succession war, they were hired by Darius to stop Ariel's group—Rudeus among them. Twin killers with matching faces who pretended to be "clones" as a combat bluff.
Rudeus hesitated—
And it cost him.
He was slashed by Eris, who had already reached Sword King, in order to protect him.
Individually, Nuckle and Gard were only North Saint-level fighters. It was their twin synchronicity that pushed them into North King territory.
But here—
Allen glanced again at the red-haired rabbit-eared woman.
Her features were nothing like Nuckle's, and her blade speed was slower too. She wasn't Gard—probably another assassin of the same tribe, likely at an Advanced level.
Of course. Classic North God Style move—if you can't win outright, bluff hard first. Try to rattle your opponent. Make them panic and slip.
Allen flicked a glance toward Philip's carriage.
Philip, who had once looked so composed, was now visibly shaken. He was trying to leap out of the carriage but was being held back by a loyal servant who was hanging onto him for dear life while Philip kicked furiously, all composure gone.
The servant was surprisingly steadfast—absolutely refusing to let go.
Allen's eyes flashed briefly with anger before returning to the two assassins.
At this point, everything's already spiraled out of Philip's control.
The system message had said it clearly: this wasn't just a fake kidnapping anymore—it was a real assassination attempt targeting me.
Philip's steward must have leaked the plan. Which caught James's attention. Ghislaine didn't appear on time because she's being held off by the other "twin." They didn't have enough manpower to surround me directly.
Right now, I should feign weakness. Don't speak. Let them think I'm still injured. When they close in—strike with Rock Breaker and kill them both instantly.
No problem.
".A-Aa… All…en…"
Just then, a trembling voice—barely intelligible through chattering teeth—cut through the rain.
Allen blinked and looked back.
Sylphy was crawling toward him, completely covered in blood and mud, her face stricken with panic, her eyes locked on the hand he'd pressed to his neck. Her limbs had gone limp; she stumbled and dragged herself forward across the muck.
Beside her, Eris sat in stunned silence, her face dusted with pinprick blood burns from the earlier sparks. Her crimson eyes widened slowly in the cold night.
BOOM!
Suddenly, smoke exploded into the air. Allen's pupils constricted, hand flying to his blade.
But through the smoke—
The two blurry figures were retreating.
Shit—they saw through me! Too obvious! They're running!!
Damn it—you really are North God Style through and through! Won't fight unless it's in your favor, huh?!
"Sylphy, I'm fine! Heal Eris's face!!"
His hoarse voice rang out in the rain. But Eris froze at the words, then glared—furious.
She shoved the cat-eared maid aside, the one still shielding her, and rushed to Sylphy. Grabbing her by the arm, she dragged the half-collapsed girl toward Allen.
"I don't need healing! Give it to him! Don't waste it on me!!"
Rudeus had just arrived—panting and angry.
"Do what Allen said! I can heal him too! You two just—!"
The three children's voices overlapped in chaos.
But the moment was shattered—
Water exploded underfoot.
Allen had already launched himself forward like a cannonball, slicing through the mist and rain with such force that the space around him popped into a vacuum. His blade cut a massive void through the vapor as his figure surged ahead.
Only a single sentence remained—
Scattered into the storm behind him:
That last strike was the kill move. There won't be another. If they had more, they'd still be coming for me. But the kidnappers—they're still worried someone might escape.
Rudeus, stay with them. Protect them. Don't let me down.
Rudeus reached out to stop him—
And grabbed empty air.
Allen was already gone—
Only a fading afterimage remained.
Rudeus stared at his hand, dazed, stunned silent for a long while.
Once again…
I couldn't hold him back.
It reminded him of that moment—
When they fell into Snow Valley.
Allen drove his [Dragon-Saint Aura] to its peak. Using his [Longsword of Silence] movement technique, he closed the gap between himself and the two fleeing enemies in mere seconds.
All three of them plunged into the forest beside the road.
The rabbit-eared advanced swordswoman was clutched in Nuckle's arms. Seeing Allen closing in like a death god, she looked ready to burst a lung.
"Nuckle! Didn't you say even with me in tow, we could pull this off?! You lied to me! I should've never left the bed listening to your bullshit! And what happened to you being Saint-level even without Gard?! Why are we running?!"
Nuckle squinted calmly, voice slow and composed.
"His strength… exceeded expectations. His mastery of Sword God Style was far beyond what we planned. The assassination would've been flawless otherwise. With things like this, it's hard to gauge whether he can still fight or not. I figured we pull back. If he chases, it means he's still battle-capable. If not—we double back."
He chased.
So he's still fighting.
Nuckle gave a crooked grin, glancing at the woman clinging to him—soaked, barely clothed in the wind and rain. A flicker of regret flashed in his eyes.
Then he laughed.
"In that case… it's time for you to shine."
"Allen Boreas Greyrat. A true member of House Boreas."
"Didn't bring you for nothing, after all~"
Her red hair whipped in the wind. The rabbit-eared woman froze.
She turned to look at Nuckle.
And the next moment—
He tossed her backward.
Allen shot forward. On reflex, his perception-based instincts caught her midair.
Dammit… Even knowing it was a trick, his body had reacted automatically—catching her out of sheer human instinct.
He looked back.
Nuckle had already vanished into the forest.
Allen frowned and flipped the blade—
Pressing the cold edge against the woman's throat.
"Where's Ghislaine?"
The rabbit-eared woman—her face still pale—finally realized Nuckle had dragged her along as bait.
The cold gleam of the blade clashed with the raindrops, spraying cold water across her face.
Allen's expression was flat.
He repeated the question.
"Which direction is Ghislaine in, Faker?"
The woman blinked rapidly. Then, unexpectedly, she turned and lay on the ground, belly-down, in a submissive beastlike posture. The soaked cloth fell from her body as she tilted her head back to look at Allen.
Her voice shook.
"I-I don't know where Ghislaine is… really, I was forced into this… but if you want, I could—"
She blinked her big round eyes, gazing at the blade point so close to her face. Swallowed hard.
Then—
She stuck out her Mildett tongue—rabbit-like—and slowly licked up the blade. From tip.
To edge.
To hilt.
Her eyes never left Allen's face.
He watched in silence for a moment—expression unreadable. Then, almost as if flustered, he averted his eyes and glanced toward the direction Nuckle had fled.
A glint of joy flickered in her eyes.
She thought she'd lived.
That she'd charmed her way out.
Her vision swayed with sudden, euphoric relief.
Then—
Her head dropped.
Blood sprayed like a fountain from her severed neck, mixing into the rain and the mud.
Hope of survival—
Was an illusion after all.
Allen turned, blade in hand, voice low and cold, bleeding into the rain.
"Pathetic."
"Running like a coward, Nuckle? You think sprinting away can erase your tracks?"
"I am…"
"…a perception type."
The rain fell.
His voice echoed faintly.
Allen's form was already gone.
The eyes of the severed head on the ground—
Still shimmered with joy.