Kingdom Bloodline

The sound of flowing water could be heard in the darkness.

The sound rang in his ears, and with each passing second, he felt colder.

"He didn't have to die."

A hoarse, indistinct, and barely identifiable voice slowly drifted from afar, each syllable accompanied by the ominous sound of flowing water, sending shivers down his spine.
"If you hadn't spoken up and reminded him..."

The spider in his brain futilely stretched and contracted its legs, unable to move his body even a fraction, and could only watch as the power of termination was extinguished along with the flame of life.

It disappeared along with the babbling stream.

No, Daniel.

Click—a series of complex mechanical sounds rang out.

With a thud, a cold hand clumsily pressed against his neck, as if trying to cut off the chilling flow of water.

Unfortunately, it was all in vain.

The water flows from high to low, from top to bottom, and cannot be stopped.

Just like the sun, moon, and stars, birth, aging, sickness, and death are irreversible.

Don't bother.

That hoarse, indistinct voice rang out again, and the spider legs twitched wildly and futilely in his brain:

"Drink it quickly, don't waste his blood."

The flowing water trickled through the cold fingers, as if triggering something, and the hand on the neck began to tremble, its tendons stretching and contracting repeatedly.

"Did Federico send you?"

A weak, trembling male voice came through, filled with loss and sorrow:
"Or is it someone behind him?"

A hoarse voice let out a soft hum:
"Would you believe me if I said I was sent by the Creator God? Drink my blood, I'm not carrying any burdens."

The suffocating silence lasted for quite a while.

The hand eventually gave up trying to stop the water and slowly left his neck.

The spider shuddered one last time in his brain, and finally its legs drooped limply.

“I told you,” the hoarse, chilling voice faded into the distance, as if from the horizon, “he is dead.”

Indeed, the flow of water gradually diminished, becoming so small as to be almost silent.

But for some reason, he felt:

The hand that had left his was now warm and burning from being washed by the flowing water.

“No,” a weak male voice said softly, but with a different opinion, “he’s not dead yet.”

The warmed hand covered his neck again.

It is no longer cold, nor does it tremble.

"Then he's just unlucky," the hoarse voice tightened, sending chills down one's spine, "You really don't drink blood?"

In the darkness, a warm hand stopped the ever-flowing water.

Slow, yet powerful.

"He can still cry." The weak male voice ignored the other person's urging.

"What?" The hoarse voice sounded puzzled.

The warm hand began to heat up.

It gradually became scalding hot, intense, and then scorching hot.

“He can still cry, he can still shed tears, he can still shed tears for others,” and the weak male voice gradually became firm and unyielding, “Then he is not dead.”

The next instant, a burst of flame erupted from that scorching palm!
"Wait," the hoarse, indistinct voice finally broke into a tremor, "What are you going to do—"

Among the flames, the brightest and hottest spark fell into the stagnant water.

boom!
“Unlike you and me,” the weak male voice mocked, “we have been dead for a long time.”

In the deepest darkness, the spark ignited into flames, spreading upwards and burning the water stream in an almost impossible way.

It burned across my neck.

It burned through the heart.

It burned into the brain.

Finally, the fire was set on that cold, stiff, and ruthless evil spider.

No, Daniel.

"Ouch! It hurts! It hurts so much!"

In the guest quarters of Kongming Palace, Danny Doyle awoke with a start from a hazy dream. Seeing the scene before him, he cried out in despair:

"Stokes... why do we need to draw blood again? Didn't we just have blood drawn? I'm seriously injured!"

"Don't move... moving it will cause the needle to dislodge... Don't worry, this is the last bottle!"

The Starlake Guard's logistics officer, Deward Stow, held DD's right hand firmly. With the help of Piloga and Costa, he pressed the blood-drawing needle connected to the tubing into DD's vein, watching with glee as the reagent bottle at the other end gradually filled with red.

"Experiment... no, I mean test... no, it's for medical use! Just one bottle! A tiny bottle! A tiny little bottle!"

So in the barracks, a group of people watched with strange expressions as Doyle was pinned down on the bed by several burly men, who took whatever they wanted from him.

DD's resistance failed, and he could only turn to his colleagues for help. Then he heard many people whispering among themselves:
"I heard from a friend of a friend that, in addition to curing diseases and prolonging life, vampire blood can also enhance male virility?"

"Ugh! Vulgar, obscene, disgusting... and... does it really have aphrodisiac properties?"

"By the way, a friend of mine asked me to ask: How long can primordial blood stay in the human body?"

"If we were to draw DD's blood to drink now, maybe—never mind, forget I asked."

"Hey, if DD dies within the time limit and becomes a vampire, then we'll have source blood to drink forever, right?"

DD is unbelievable:

"Holy shit, you guys—"

"Then you'll have to wait until he grows into a peak-level vampire before he can condense his source blood..."

"How long will it take? Ten or twenty years isn't out of the question..."

"Ten or twenty years would take a genius, but look at DD, what part of him looks like a genius?"

DD was filled with grief and indignation:

"Hey, you guys..."

"Could we artificially speed up this process? For example, by gathering several vampires together, steaming them in a pot, and concentrating and purifying their source blood..."

"Wow, Neshi, you truly are a genius! How come no one thought of this method before?"

"Is it too late to put DD in and steam it now?"

"So DD, how exactly did you get to drink the source blood? You just grabbed his neck and started kissing him like that?"

Upon hearing this, DD, who had been gritting his teeth, suddenly trembled.

How... do I obtain the source blood?

He's not dead yet... He can still cry, he can still shed tears, he can still shed tears for others... then he's not dead.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the barracks, Wyatt Cassel was questioning Golov and Rolf, occasionally taking notes in his notebook.

“As I said, DD was not in his right mind when he first came back. He didn’t have any wounds, but he had a high fever and vomited frequently,” Golov recalled. “He was also muttering nonsense like ‘my fault’ and ‘big spider’ in a half-awake state, and even had convulsions. We had to tie him up at one point.”

"His fault? What fault? And what is a spider?" Wyatt paused, pen in hand.

Rolf shook his head and gestured:
I don't know. But if you ask me, it's probably another toy, you know, a little teddy bear.

Wyatt pondered deeply upon hearing this.

"But his fever subsided quickly, and he regained his senses. Then he started complaining of hunger, which terrified us, as we thought he was going to suck blood... Fortunately, we later discovered he was genuinely hungry. He ate enough food for three people and drank several large glasses of water, then fell asleep immediately. He was woken up a few times by Officer Stoddart. As for now..."

With a complicated expression, Golov turned his head and looked at DD, who was surrounded by a large group of people in the center.

"...So I pretended to be calm and reached back to draw my sword! What seemed like an ordinary strike was actually a world-shaking move..."

Doyle was finally freed from the giants' grasp after the blood draw, allowing him to (once again) gesticulate wildly and passionately recount his epic adventure:
"...Seeing my earth-shattering sword strike, that cowardly bandit with the curved blade was immediately taken aback and dared not fight back. He immediately fled into the darkness, and then I—"

"And then you died."

Paul, who was holding a book and leaning against the wall, said softly.

DD shuddered, his voice abruptly stopping, as if he had been choked.

"I, I, I..."

He made a clucking sound, almost like a hen, sounding very aggrieved.

"I'm not dead yet! Let me tell you, what's with all this 'source blood' stuff? I survived because I avoided vital points! If that assassin's skills were just a little bit better, just a little bit, hey, slash here, see? If he had hit me squarely, he would have sliced ​​my head off, skin and bone—"

“I remember now, there’s a test in the Western Wilderness,” Paul said, without turning a page, but holding the book in his other hand, “used to identify vampires.”

"What?" DD immediately became alert.

“Cut off their head and see if they can still speak. If they can, then they are undoubtedly vampires.”

"What?" Everyone was shocked.

"No way—you call this a test?"

"Historically, a nobleman from the Western Wilderness cleared his brother of suspicion of being a vampire in this way."

"And could you wash off his brother's clothes while you're at it?"

"Hey Paul, why are you reading a book...?"

"The Political Strategy of a Wise King."

"No, I just want to ask, why is your posture so awkward when you read? Doesn't it get tiring to stand?"

"……Not tired."

"Where did your old-fashioned bow go? The one in the love triangle who was treated like the honest guy... what was his name again?"

"...So rustic... Huff, huff... The Rebel Lion isn't an honest man, he's just... just indifferent to fame and fortune, living in anonymity, making people mistakenly believe he came from a poor background... His true identity is far more noble than that of 'Knight of the Broken Tide' Lycos... That's why there was the famous scene later when the knights of Heroic Souls Fortress came to their door, openly lining up, solemn and respectful, to welcome their young master back to the fortress..."

"very good!"

The cheers of Stokes' logistics officer interrupted Paul's seemingly nonchalant yet resentful rebuttal and clarification:
"It passed the sunlight test, temperature sensitivity test, development test, and material affinity test, as well as the sacred test insisted upon by the Sunset Temple and the leech test recommended by Senator Yannick..."

The logistics officer then dripped a drop of liquid into the reagent bottle and shook it in the sunlight:
"Hmm... No severe rejection reaction, and no signs of abnormality in organs and tissues—congratulations, DD, the day the source blood took effect has passed. It seems unlikely that you will become a vampire."

The surrounding Star Lake Guardians erupted in whispers, a mixture of relief and regret.

"I'll just say it!"

Lying in bed, DD suddenly perked up, forcefully punching his fist to banish the fragmented memories of his nightmare:

"Bullshit about the source blood—I will never become a vampire! I will not!"

“In fact, all your recent open wounds have healed,” Stuart put down the blood vial, put away the magnifying glass, and looked regretful. “Apart from external scars, nothing else was left… You are even healthier than you have ever been since birth. If you pay attention to health, you might even live to be a hundred.”

"What?" Neshi exclaimed in surprise.

The surrounding Star Lake Guardians let out a chorus of boos, whether it was envy or disappointment.

"Wha, what?"

DD, however, was quite taken aback. Contrary to his usual behavior, he didn't shout or cheer, but instead touched his neck in a daze and confusion.

"me……"

Just then, a familiar voice rang out, weaving into the crowd:
Why did he save you?

Upon hearing this, all the guards present fell silent.

It's like someone turned off the "cheerful" switch in the room.

Wyman pushed through the crowd and approached DD's bedside, his attitude serious:

"DD, why did King Losang II save you? Even if it meant expending his own life force? Even if it meant sacrificing his life?"

Wyman held up his notebook:
"He's an assassin, isn't he?"

For a fleeting moment, the humor and ease on DD's face vanished.

The logistics officer was slowly tidying up the equipment in the logistics wing (mainly the dozen or so vials of precious DD blood). Upon hearing this, he glanced at the gloomy-faced gardener Paterson, and the two of them looked at the ghost Hugo sitting in the corner.

"He and I……"

DD subconsciously touched his neck, stroking the horrific, fatal scar, hesitant and bewildered:

"I don't... I just... don't know..."

Wyatt stared at DD, trying to find the answer in the other's eyes:
"According to intelligence, you and he once had the same teacher, or to use a traditional expression: served the same knight? Is that related?"

DD clutched his head, his face contorted in pain.

“He, he could indeed be old Joaquin’s student, servant, or disciple… but I’ve never known him, not even his real name… I don’t…”

Wyman stepped forward and said seriously:
“DD, an elite assassin has entered Emerald City, this is no small matter! As for His Highness… I need you to recall clearly: do you remember what happened after your throat was slit—”

DD shuddered violently!
"I...I don't know...I don't remember...blood...I only remember blood..."

Doyle flinched, his face filled with fear.

But Wyatt, holding up notes so illegible only he could decipher, persisted relentlessly:
"Have you ever been with any of Master Joaquin's other attendants or students—hmm?"

Wyman suddenly felt a tightness on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Golov with his arm around his shoulder, shaking his head.

"But……"

Wyatt glanced at DD's trembling figure, then at his own notes, and then at the pitiful expressions of everyone around him. He hesitated several times before speaking.

“Oh, right, that Lausanne II,” Kommuto suddenly coughed and spoke up awkwardly from behind the group, “He, he’s really dead?”

Everyone looked at each other.

“Of course, they poured three bottles of sunset holy water on the body, sprinkled it with silver powder, and left it in the sun all day… It couldn’t be dead more than dead, and it doesn’t look like it could be resurrected,” Paterson, the punitive inspector nicknamed Gardener, chuckled by the window. “Wait, old Kong, I remember you were the one who did this job.”

Kommut was startled, then laughed and slapped his forehead:

"Oh, right, I, I was in charge of sprinkling the silver powder... I remember now, look at my memory..."

The gardener nodded in agreement.
"The boss ordered his men to nail the body into a specially made silver-plated box, lock it with blessed ritual implements, and prepare to take it back to the capital—the official story was that we had successfully avenged ourselves, and everyone in the guard had contributed. Of course, the one who did it last was DD, since he was seriously injured in the process."

DD was startled and came to his senses:

"Me? Take action? Revenge? What revenge?"

“Of course it’s for honor and revenge—he has the blood of one of our old guard brothers on his hands,” the gardener summarized briefly, then glanced at DD lying on the bed, “Well, not anymore.”

Everyone nodded in understanding, but there was no sense of relief at the realization of revenge; only a sense of melancholy at the end of the story.

DD was completely stunned and couldn't come to his senses for a long time.

“He got off too easy,” old Stoffel sighed. “If he had fallen into the hands of the Punishment Wing, into the hands of those perverted colleagues of the Gardener, and they had dragged the Secret Service along to interrogate him in all sorts of ways, he probably wouldn’t have died for a hundred years.”

The gardener scoffed lightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“The problem is that Lausanne II was key to the Emerald City serial murders and the old case arbitration involving the Kevin Deere family,” Paul sighed as he turned the page. “Now that we have neither the murderer nor the evidence, we have no political leverage, and that painstaking hunt at Northgate Bridge was all for nothing.”

A silence fell over the crowd, each person expressing a different emotion.

“And then there was the assassination attempt in the temple, and Miss Hilley, who also returned to the palace seriously injured,” Wyatt frowned. “If the details leak out, people will start questioning Prince Thales’s incompetence in governing. Emerald City had finally calmed down…”

Oscar Elson, who was from the South Shore, nodded:
“The Kevin Deer brothers and their supporters and sympathizers are not to be trifled with. If they find out, they might seize the opportunity to retaliate. Then His Highness…”

"The key is that new assassin, the one with the curved blade. I heard he has some connections with the Black Street Brotherhood..."

"Isn't Kongming Palace entangled with the Blood Bottle Gang? How did it get involved with the Brotherhood?"

"Hmph, once the newly recruited standing army in the capital is trained, we'll wipe out these scumbags in one fell swoop sooner or later..."

“That assassin, King Lausanne II,” after a long silence, DD couldn’t help but speak from the bed, “did he really have a grudge against us, against the Royal Guard? Did he really kill our people?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

"what happened?"

“It’s nothing. It’s just that after all these days, I’ve always felt that this assassin isn’t really… I mean…” Doyle hesitated.

“DD…” Kommuto whispered a reminder to him.

“I understand,” Morgan, who hadn’t spoken for a long time, suddenly said. “He’s not that bad.”

"You understand now?" Custa frowned.

“The night we hunted him at North Gate Bridge, the neighborhood I was monitoring…” Morgan ignored him and continued, “A group of mercenaries, terrified, dared not pursue him any longer… They turned back, intending to take advantage of the chaos to loot nearby houses… and then…”

Morgan snorted, took a sip of mate tea, and stroked his knife.

"Then, after he had already left, King Lausanne II suddenly and inexplicably returned and dealt with the mercenary group."

The expressions on everyone's faces changed slightly.

“He didn’t have to do that,” DD said absentmindedly.

“Yes,” Paul said, still holding up “The Art of Governing a Wise Ruler,” but surprisingly agreed with DD, “It was unnecessary to go through all that trouble.”

"What kind of killer would do this?" Wyman pondered.

“The worst, most unprofessional kind,” the gardener suddenly said, “when a hitman starts killing for something other than money… that’s when things get really bad.”

Everyone fell silent.

"You're all here?"

A familiar yet languid voice came from outside the door, and everyone in the barracks stiffened and stood at attention.

"Boss!"

"Sir!"

"Lord!"

"Lord Thomas!"

Amidst the various names given, Marius entered the barracks, patted everyone on the shoulder, and then approached the dazed-looking DD:

"I heard from Toledo that DD is fine now?"

Stoddart put away his toolbox:

"Probably so."

The gardener frowned upon hearing this.

"Very good, then DD, back to work tomorrow morning..."

Marius pointed nonchalantly to the patient on the bed: "After all, a mere Extreme Assassin has breached our defenses and disrupted almost all our plans, leaving me under immense pressure and no time to rest..."

A mere extreme realm... a mere mere?
Some people wanted to object, but no one dared to speak up.

The Watchers turn to everyone:
"What do you think?"

Upon hearing this, everyone's expression changed.

The next second, the Star Lake Guardians all turned around, and in twos and threes, each person instantly found their work and scattered to the left and right:
"Okay, we just finished our meeting and discussed our defense vulnerabilities..."

"Judging by the time, it's my turn to go and stand guard by Prince Thales' side..."

"Are the patrolmen coming back soon? Just in case, I'll go meet them for the change of shift..."

"The supplies for the logistics wing will be replenished soon..."

I'm going to get my leg fixed...

"Uh, we just developed a defense plan and contingency plan against the Reverse Scimitar..."

“Yes, yes, I’ve always felt that Ancestral Rock is a security loophole…” “I can work overtime tonight! Sir, please don’t hesitate to use me…”

Amid the sound of footsteps, Marius suddenly spoke:
"By the way, taking virility-enhancing drugs won't improve male virility!"

He looked up and said with a smile:
"There is also the risk of flesh and blood breaking apart."

The crowd paused, stunned, and their whispers ceased.

"How did he know?" Neshi whispered in the crowd, puzzled. "Could it be that he..."

"how?"

Upon hearing this, the gardener turned around abruptly, his gaze turning grim.
"Kid, you want to know too?"

Without needing further reminders from the Executioner with the authority to wield the whip, most of the Star Lake Guards, including Neshi who was dragged away by the ear by Komuto, scurried away and disappeared through the door. Kusta even left a peeled apple by DD's bedside.

"Hmph, Marius, it was you who instructed Toledo to soften his stance and let these bastards come to visit him in the hospital, wasn't it?" Second Chief Executor Paterson watched the departing figures of the group, then came up to Marius and shook his head disdainfully.

"Oh, really?" The Watcher seemed to wake from a dream, slapping his forehead.

“It’s a waste of time and manpower to do this now,” the gardener said with a grim expression. “We are under a lot of pressure right now—if the reverse slash comes again, these rotten fish and shrimps may not be able to defend themselves.”

Well, just having rotten fish and shrimp might not be enough.

Marius nodded and smiled, but it was Stoddart who answered.

“The gardener is right, we are under a lot of pressure,” old Stoddall sighed. “Our defenses were breached silently, we lost the key prisoner we had finally captured, we almost lost Miss Kevin Deer, and even the heir to Coldhold nearly perished.”

The most disastrous consequence is that the combined effect of all these things may cause the prince's carefully laid plans to collapse.

The officers present all had solemn expressions.

"So, the only good news is that DD is safe and sound and has survived from the Extreme Assassin."

Stoddart changed the subject, a smile spreading across his face:

"What we need is some uplifting news or a lighthearted atmosphere to relieve the pressure and boost morale—logistics is important too."

The gardener glanced at Stoddard, then at Marius, and even at Hugo, the standard-bearer behind him who looked completely indifferent. He frowned, but ultimately said nothing.

“As for you, DD,” Marius came to DD’s bedside and saw that he looked lost in thought, “get some rest and go back to work tomorrow morning.”

But DD just stared blankly at the scar on his neck, showing no reaction.

Marius was not offended; he simply patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave.

"Doyle is not fit for fieldwork right now: there are still questions about how this guy survived."

The gardener came up behind Marius and whispered:
"And Grover and that mute, including the girl from the Aarond family, they're not suitable either—if you know what I mean."

Marius's expression shifted.

He nodded and patted his injured arm, which was slinged across his chest and wrapped in thick bandages.

"I'm not fit for duty either. My injuries haven't healed, and I can't even lift a weapon, but here I am, aren't I?"

The Watchman said calmly:

"And a top-tier assassin... I mean, you can't expect me to go up and fight the enemy to a draw every time we encounter a powerful foe, can you?"

Patterson's eyes turned cold:
"Didn't you ask for that?"

"Then you guys go next time?" Marius raised his eyebrows.

Logistics officer Stoddart raised his hands, made an exaggerated expression, and took a step back with great seriousness.

"Here we go again..."

The gardener scoffed dismissively and turned to seek support:

"Hugo... what's the term for the flag bearer's wing..."

But Patterson was immediately taken aback: Hugo, the standard-bearer who should have been behind him, was nowhere to be seen.

Only Stoddart flashed his white teeth and smiled at him.

“Every time I need him… damn ghost.”

"The gardener murmured."

“It seems the Flag-Bearer Wing has no objections,” Marius sighed. “Then what does the Punishment Wing say?”

The gardener glanced at Marius, then at DD, who looked dazed on the other side.

"Fine, if you say it's okay, then it's okay."

Marius laughed.

“Just don’t forget,” Patterson said casually, “what happened to our predecessors in the last Royal Guard.”

At that moment, the three officers present fell silent.

“Grey,” the Watchman said, his smile returning after a few seconds, “thank you.”

He looked intently at the gardener:

"Believe me, we've already encountered the reverse scimitar once. Take Lausanne II as an example; the intelligence gathering was thorough, and contingency plans were in place."

“Next time, if she dares to come at us again,” Marius said firmly, “it will be the last time.”

Patterson was silent for a few seconds.

“The last time…” the gardener said quietly, “Why does that sound so ominous?”

Marius's smile froze.

Stoddart, who was standing nearby, raised an eyebrow upon hearing this.

The gardener didn't offer any explanation, just gave a soft snort, and turned to leave.

“You know, this is his old problem,” Stoddart followed the gardener, turning back with an embarrassed smile, “He just can’t speak properly.”

If they knew how to behave...wouldn't they have gone home to inherit the title long ago?

It's also thanks to his poor interpersonal skills... otherwise, how could His Majesty have felt comfortable promoting him to the position of Second Chief Punishment Officer?
Marius watched the two leave, but just then, a weak voice sounded behind him:
"Boss."

Marius turned around and saw DD lying on the bed, his eyes lifeless.
"You're telling me, in that dungeon, did I really... really die once?"

dead.

I died once...

Marius's eyes flickered slightly as he recalled Lausanne II's last words, written in blood on the wall.

Don't let him die again within a day.

"It doesn't seem so."

Marius said in a deep voice:

"But yes, someone else died in your place."

DD's expression changed.

other people.

"I can't figure it out."

Doyle was in low spirits, his breathing gradually quickening:
"Why... He didn't have to do that, I don't even know him... Even if he had done it, I wouldn't... Old Joaquin has been dead for so long... Why sacrifice his life for a complete stranger... Why..."

DD buried her face in her hands, her hands trembling slightly.

"Danny Doyle."

DD looked up blankly.

The Watcher stood at the doorway, his back to him, his expression unreadable.

Why do you need to breathe?

breathe?

DD was taken aback:
"What? Breathing? Why?"

Marius turned around, his eyes sharp, and gave the astonished DD a deep look.

“Yes,” Marius said softly, “that’s it.”

That's right? What do you mean, that's right?
What does breathing have to do with this?

Doyle, bewildered, was about to ask further questions, but Marius had already disappeared outside the door.

DD was left alone, staring blankly at the doorway.

Until Rolf appeared in front of him, limping, and threw something at him.

"What—oh, my little bear, thank you."

Doyle instinctively took the blood-stained teddy bear, then paused in surprise.

"Don't lose what the prince gave you." Rolf gestured casually in sign language.

"I... I thought I'd lost it in the tunnel... and never found it again..." DD stroked the little teddy bear absentmindedly.

Upon hearing the word "tunnel," Rolf's face darkened, and his gestures continued:

[The tunnel... Big Guy and I, we didn't keep an eye on the door... Sorry.]

“It’s gone…” DD looked dazed, without lifting his head.

Rolf was displeased, but seeing the other man's dejected appearance, he shook his head.

Forget it, you can rest now.

The Wind Demon shook his head self-deprecatingly and turned to leave.

"Dumb man, tell me, why did he do that?"

Rolf paused in his steps.

"A knight who cries and sheds tears is truly more powerful than a knight who charges forward without hesitation..."

DD closed his eyes, as if he were back in that dungeon, facing that shackled, dejected assassin:
"More powerful?"

What?
Rolf paused for a long while, frowning repeatedly, and made several puzzled gestures:
[Crying? A knight? What?]

But DD was engrossed in his own world.

“I also think it’s ridiculous, utter nonsense,” Doyle lowered his head, touching the scar on his neck, playing with the teddy bear in his hand, and laughed tremblingly, “Crying is obviously shameful, it’s pathetic…and you still cry for others…crying, crying, how can crying make you strong?”

This young master... could he have been dumbed down by that assassin's slash?

Rolf was baffled. He shook his head impatiently and left, not forgetting to give the middle finger as he went.
[Idiot.]

"Yes, throughout history, only those knights who are as steadfast as iron, unwavering, and who shed blood instead of tears, deserve to be called strong, right?"

In the empty barracks, DD trembled, burying his smile and eyes in the arms of the blood-stained teddy bear, choking back sobs:
"Stupid?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

“Your Highness, I think the whole thing is strange from beginning to end.”

Not long after leaving the guard barracks, Wyatt stood atop the Emerald City—on the spacious open-air observation deck of the Skylight Palace—holding his notebook, and anxiously reported to His Highness the Prince.

"I've come to three conclusions..."

eccentric.

Of course it's strange.

Thales stood with his back to Wyatt, leaning on the railing, gazing at the bustling city view that stretched out before him, his feelings a mix of emotions.

He had already reached an agreement with the two Kevin Deer, and the balance in Emerald City had been restored, but things just went wrong.

How is this not strange?
"Tell me what you found."

Thales spoke slowly, his voice so hoarse and tired that even he was surprised.

"Yes. First of all, it's the way the Curved Blade operates."

Wyatt glanced at the prince with some concern and continued:
"Without a doubt, he—excuse me, she was an undisputed master assassin, exceptionally skilled, able to sneak into the dungeon silently… If it weren't for an incredible stroke of luck, Officer Doyle would probably be dead…"

Yes, it's one in a million strokes of luck.

Thales' expression remained unchanged, but he couldn't help recall the scene in the dungeon where DD lay motionless in a pool of blood.

On the bright side, at least he died a real death on the battlefield.

A voice inside him sarcastically said:

Instead of at a banquet where you are powerless to change the unpredictable situation.

This is not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last.

But you, Thales, how many more times will it take you to understand this?
"...According to Ms. Arendt's account, she also almost died by the other party's knife, which shows that the curved knife was ruthless and merciless."

Wyatt's report brought Thales back to reality:

"But she showed mercy to the zombies and the mute, as well as to Zonevid and Franzuk's men who were guarding the perimeter, only knocking them unconscious—it's just a simple matter of slitting their throats, and it also prevents them from waking up in the process."

After a busy day and a sleepless night, Thales forced himself to look up:

"You mean, she encountered all six of us along the way, spared four of them, but ruthlessly killed the other two? DD and Mira?"

Is it that DD is particularly annoying, or that Miranda looks too dangerous?
Wyman nodded:
"Yes, there are contradictions here, which is puzzling. So while their memories were still fresh, I questioned all the parties involved repeatedly overnight, barely managing to reconstruct the situation at the time and confirm one thing."

Taking advantage of, overnight, repeatedly, all...

Hearing these words, Thales couldn't help but look at Wyman's dark circles.

Well, Your Highness isn't the only one who's exhausted.

There are still many people in this world who want to turn the tide.

Thales felt somewhat comforted.

By the way, where did Marius go? At this crucial moment of immense pressure, he's disappeared again so early in the morning?
"Vanguard General Golov, Vanguard General Rolf, Vanguard General Zonevid, and Guard General Franzuk were all completely unaware of the attack. They didn't even see her shadow, let alone face her. They only realized they had been knocked down when they woke up."

Wyman continued:

"But Officer Doyle spotted the scimitar beforehand and defended against the first attack."

"DD?"

Thales frowned:
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he survived. But I do have my doubts—does DD really have that kind of ability?"

Wyman nodded:

“I had the same question, so I just checked again: to be precise, Doyle was alerted by Lausanne II and passively discovered the reverse scimitar, almost instinctively taking the first hit, and then…”

“Then he died,” Thales added.

Well, it's best not to say this to DD's face, it's a bit too hurtful to him.

"Yes, it is."

Wyman felt a little embarrassed. He subconsciously looked around. Fortunately, the guards were just within sight of him, but not within hearing his words.

"As for Lady Aaron, she noticed something was wrong early on, and even forced the scimitar out of its hiding place based on her experience and intuition. She had to fight her head-on, which is why it was only after His Highness and Knight Cassien came to the rescue."

Thales pondered for a moment, then squinted his eyes.

"You mean, Reverse Scimitar was discovered by DD and Mira, and was hindered, so she killed them ruthlessly," Thales speculated. "But she showed mercy to those who didn't discover her and therefore couldn't stop her?"

That does fit the boss's personality quite well.

but……

Wyatt nodded and said, "That's right, so I dare to guess: if Doyle and Aaron hadn't discovered the whereabouts of the Reverse Scimitar..."

Thales chimed in, "Then they'll all be fine, at most they'll just be knocked out and fall asleep?"

“Yes, that curved blade can make you disappear without a trace without killing a single person,” Wyman affirmed.

Not a single person will be killed.

They come and go without a trace.

Thales seemed to be deep in thought.

The question is, why?

Wyatt paused for a second, then explained further:

"Not killing a single person is certainly good from our perspective, but it's unwise from an assassin's perspective: First, knocking someone unconscious is more difficult than killing them, and showing mercy takes more energy than delivering a fatal blow. Second, what if the unconscious sentry wakes up halfway through and sounds the alarm?"

Thales pondered his words, then slowly nodded:

"Yeah, it can't be for the sake of perfect stealth, or for the trophy and achievement of not killing a single person, can it?"

Wyatt was somewhat bewildered, but he was already used to the prince's frequent use of neologisms:
"Judging from DD's fatal wound to the throat and Aaron's severe chest and abdomen injuries, I boldly hypothesize that this woman with the curved blade is inherently ruthless and decisive in killing. If arranged properly, she could easily kill all six or even more people one by one."

Thales nodded.

Otherwise, one cannot be called an extreme assassin.

"However, she did not do that: I guess her requirement for this infiltration into the tunnel was to refrain from taking action during the process and not to kill unless necessary."

“No killing unless necessary… I really want to win the trophy…” Thales murmured.

Wyman said solemnly:

"To be precise, this may not have been her request, but rather the request of her employer."

Thales' eyes flickered slightly.

Wyman took a deep breath.

“If my assumption is correct… I guess that whoever is behind this, they must be very wary of Your Highness and would not want to offend you unless absolutely necessary, so as not to create an irreconcilable blood feud with us and Starlake Fortress,” Wyman hesitated for a moment, “or perhaps, their status and position make it inconvenient for them to offend you.”

Thales remained motionless, his expression unchanged.

A gentle breeze swept across the observation deck, its force not great, yet amplified by the height of the palace peak, it howled with a piercing, chilling sound.

“That’s where the problem lies,” Thales said softly, as if talking to himself.

"Yes."

Wyatt glanced at the prince with some worry, then mustered his courage and spoke:
"In this battle for Emerald City, which has clearly become a life-or-death struggle with countless casualties... what kind of person, what kind of special person, would be inconvenient to harm the prince and your men?"

Thales did not speak.

“Then I remembered that back in the temple, when Duke Jann asked you to go to his sister in person,” Wyatt paused, hesitating, “he said that only your presence would make the enemy wary.”

Thales remained silent.

"So I was thinking, if only in this way, only when a prince personally intervenes, can they be made to restrain themselves... then their status, their position, what they can do..."

Seeing Thales's lack of reaction, Wyatt gritted his teeth:
"Your Highness, the ravens are ready... If it's inconvenient for you, I can write back to the capital, under the pretense of inquiring about my father, leaving a coded message to invite him, to invite him to come, to come..."

Just then, Thales suddenly raised his hand, stopping Wyman from speaking.

"That's enough, Wyman."

The prince spoke kindly and was gentle in manner.

Its gentleness sent chills down Wyatt's spine.

“Your Highness, perhaps we should…” Wyatt tried to continue, but Thales interrupted him again.

“You just said you found three odd things,” Thales said calmly, as if he hadn’t heard Wyman’s hint at all. “What’s the second one?”

Wyatt was somewhat surprised by the second prince's indifferent reaction, but he quickly lowered his head, composed himself, and opened his notebook.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry... Yes, the second strange point, or rather, the suspicious point."

Wyman said in a deep voice:

"What is the assassin—Reverse Blade—doing at this time?" (End of Chapter)