Just as Allen was about to release his [Longsword of Silence]—
A sharp, crackling sound rang out behind him—the sound of ice forming, shattering like glass as it spiderwebbed through the air and echoed into his ears.
Allen's wrist lowered slightly, the flow of his blade halting.
He turned his head.
A massive blade of ice had burst from Sylphy's outstretched fingertips—
And with a single strike, it cleaved straight through the attacker's skull.
Blood gushed out like a fountain.
The headless body tumbled in through the window and collapsed inside the carriage. The mangled head hit the floor with a wet splat, like a pile of spoiled meat.
Allen stared, momentarily stunned, then turned to Sylphy.
Her face was paper white.
The [Earth Fortress] spell around her was crumbling away like falling sand.
She was staring blankly at the half-liquefied human head she had just destroyed. Her red-brown eyes twitched and contracted, flicking in and out of focus. In her vision, the fragments of skull and pulp resembled the crushed bone and minced flesh from when she helped prepare monster meat at home.
If only I could pretend this was just a monster…
Killing monsters never made me feel this way…
But the torn ear, the eyeball still dangling by a bloody optic nerve, the peeled scalp matted with hair, and the stark white skull beneath the lifted face—every detail screamed one undeniable truth.
This was a human.
And she had killed him.
Sylphy's eyes tried multiple times to look away from the wreckage, but she forced herself to keep looking—her pale forehead twitching with pulsing blue veins under her white hair.
It was like she was trying to hammer a belief into herself:
"It's okay… he was a bad guy. That's all. Just a bad guy."
She had to accept it.
After all, she was going to travel the world with Allen and Roxy someday. She couldn't afford to break down from something like this.
But the way her [Earth Fortress] spell dissolved—unstable, unfocused—betrayed the truth:
Her heart wasn't nearly as steady as her expression.
She was still just seven years old.
Her face was a quiet mess of confusion.
"Don't look!"
That was when Eris reached out and forcefully turned Sylphy's head away. Her lips were tight as she glared directly at Allen.
Even as a little hellhound, Eris had a strong tolerance for the new and the shocking. But even so, her face had turned ghostly pale.
Still, she held her ground with pride and grit, locking eyes with Allen—like she was declaring, "See? I'm strong too!"
Outside the carriage, the crisp crack of [Ice Blades] cutting through rain echoed again.
In the next carriage, Rudeus was firing off spells—cleaning up the last of the fleeing kidnappers. Under the flickering candlelight, his [Ice Blades] shimmered like flowing streaks of light, piercing through the few bandits who hadn't already lost their nerve at the sight of the Buena bruiser.
Water splashed frantically outside as Rudeus—having just been jolted from sleep—charged through the rain, shouting,
"Allen! Sylphy!! Are you two okay?!"
Allen glanced once more at Sylphy, whose face was still locked in that unnatural expression.
Then he turned and shouted back, "We're fine!!"
But within the rhythm of his [Perception Flow], what echoed clearly wasn't just the sound of his voice—
It was Sylphy's heartbeat.
Pounding. Uneven. Tight.
Thump-thump.
Mixing with the others in the carriage.
Thump-thump.
But distinctly clear.
And if Allen listened carefully—
There were six heartbeats.
Three of them erratic and chaotic.
But the other three?
Perfectly steady.
So steady—
It's like they knew exactly what was coming.
Allen's pupils shrank sharply.
No! Something's wrong!
And at that moment—
Eris's breathing suddenly turned ragged.
Allen turned his head—just as two gleams of steel flashed in his vision!
They came from the corpse that had fallen moments ago—now rising again!
It was a trick from the North God Style—a technique of deception.
The severed head had been real. But the true assassin had been concealed beneath the hooded rain cloak!
Allen's body vanished like smoke—gone in a blur of movement.
And in the next second—
In Eris's wide, terrified crimson eyes, a burst of sparks exploded.
Blades clashed in midair—
Long sword and dagger collided violently. Sparks burst and scattered—some landing on her pale cheeks and burning pinpricks of blood into her skin.
Even so, her fledgling swordsman instincts kept her rooted in place—stunned, frozen, eyes locked onto the shadow before her.
There were two blades.
One aimed slightly off, toward her face.
The other was exactly aligned with Allen's [Longsword of Silence] trajectory—driving straight for his throat.
This—
Was a choice.
But Allen had already decided the moment the blades lit up.
The aura in his gut—his [Dragon-Saint Aura]—compressed violently, instantly dying his inner energy with color. In that moment, Allen unleashed the [Rock Domain] in full force.
The flickering candlelight in the carriage seemed to freeze in time.
Allen's gaze turned slowly, locking onto the two slim figures darting from beneath the rain-cloaked hood.
This—
Was a premeditated, treacherous assassination from the North God Style.
At moments of true life-or-death danger, the mind often slipped into overdrive, thoughts and nerves accelerating beyond reason. In the past, Allen had used Water God Style techniques to enter that state voluntarily.
But now—for the first time in ages—he felt it again.
The real thing.
The raw edge of death brushing against his throat.
The cold wind at his neck made the hairs stand on end.
Thoughts flashed like lightning in his mind—
Too late. [Rock Domain] can't parry in time!
A hair was severed.
A blade caressed his skin.
That—
Was the feeling of death closing in.
Icy.
Numb.
But Allen's thoughts were screaming—
"My body can't move fast enough to keep up!!"
The candlelight danced in his eyes—
But not with fear.
With exhilaration.
When was the last time I felt this alive?!
Sparring with Reida? What's the point of using [Rock Domain] against her?!
No [Rock Domain]? No problem.
You think I've got no options left?!
You're underestimating me, damn it! I'm a Water God Style Sword Saint—my whole fighting style is built on perception!!
The enemy's blades:
Dagger and stiletto.
Thin edge—2 centimeters.
Blade width—0.2 millimeters.
Tilt my head 30 degrees.
Blade might graze the trachea—but not the artery.
Blade's too short.
It won't go deep enough.
A blur of steel sliced through the carriage.
Blood erupted from Allen's throat—spraying across Eris's face.
But—
His grip never faltered.
The [Longsword of Silence]—
Was already in motion.
With a thunderous shock—
BOOM!
The blade erupted.
The entire carriage split in half.
Sparks scattered violently across the rain-soaked night.
The hooded figure dropped their dagger midair and drew a longsword from the hip—barely managing to block Allen's retaliatory slash in time.
The carriage exploded apart.
The floor tilted violently—Eris, Sylphy, and the cat-eared maid all collapsed in a bloody heap.
The assassin was blown back—
Landing two meters away in the rain-drenched dark.
Through the storm, Allen saw them clearly:
Four twitching rabbit ears—trembling under the downpour.
Beneath those ears—
A man and a woman.
Both smiling.
Beastfolk—of the Mildett Tribe.
Who were they?
The North King—
"Twin Blades" Nuckle! Gard!