Chapter 86 - 85 - A Demon in the Dark

An explosion rattled the mansion.

The blast tore through the corridor and blew a hole through the wall, sending stone fragments, dust, and splinters of wood scattering across the floor.

From the smoke, Falcon emerged.

His coat was torn in several places, and a shallow cut ran across his cheek from the flying debris, but he was still standing. Barely a second later, his eyes sharpened, and he dropped low.

A wide horizontal slash tore out of the smoke above him.

Fire followed the blade in a blazing arc, melting the stone wall behind Falcon and carving a deep, searing line through it. Heat washed over him, scorching a few strands of his hair as he slipped beneath the attack by less than an inch.

He escaped unscathed.

Mostly.

Falcon twisted his body from the low position and countered immediately, swinging his arm upward.

A compressed wind slash flew from his hand, sharp and almost invisible as it cut through the smoke. He timed it perfectly. The moment the knight stepped out of the dust, the attack was already in front of his face.

But the knight did not dodge.

He swung a blazing fist.

Flame and wind collided between them, and Falcon’s slash burst apart in a small explosion that scattered the remaining smoke around the corridor.

The knight walked through it calmly, sword in one hand, fire crawling along the edge like something alive.

Falcon clicked his tongue.

In the next moment, the knight propelled himself forward, appearing in front of Falcon with a downward slash ready to cut him in half.

Falcon shifted his weight aside and released a vortex from his hands. The burst pushed him back while deflecting the knight’s attack, letting the burning blade pass only a few centimeters beside his shoulder.

The knight rushed after him and feinted with his sword, telegraphing that he was aiming to take Falcon’s head.

But the blade was only a distraction.

As soon as Falcon reacted to the slash, a blazing kick slammed into his ribs instead. It scorched through the side of his armor and sent him flying into the wall. Stone cracked from the impact, and for a brief second, Falcon’s vision blurred.

Not giving him any time to recover, the knight threw a fireball at him a moment later.

Wind burst from Falcon’s hand at the last second, but it was not aimed at the fireball.

It was aimed at the ground.

The blast lifted him off the floor just before the fireball struck, but since he had done it in a rush, he did not have the luxury of control. He slammed back-first into the ceiling, and the impact knocked the air out of his lungs.

Meanwhile, the fireball detonated against the wall and blasted a massive crater into it.

Falcon barely blocked the debris with a sphere of wind around himself.

But as he was falling, the knight was already there.

A blazing side kick followed, connecting with Falcon’s forearms as he blocked at the last second. His vambraces melted on impact, and he was sent flying again.

He summoned a wind cushion behind his back just before he slammed into the wall, saving himself from a few broken ribs.

Falcon barely avoided a heavy injury from the onslaught, but he was still battered and bruised from all those exchanges. What was worse, he had almost no room to counter. The fight had become completely one-sided, with him being pummeled again and again.

The baron watched from the doorway, cheering for the knight while laughing at Falcon’s helpless state.

"Hah! Serves you right, you bitch! Get him, Sir Tris!"

Falcon’s head snapped toward him.

Not because of the insult.

Because that idiot had just presented the perfect target.

Sir Tris also noticed it and panicked, stepping between them just in time to block a powerful wind slash. The force still knocked him back a step.

"Lord Morholt, please step back. It is dangerous here."

Teclos watched him from the shadows.

And by the gods, Baron Morholt was exactly what he had imagined a spoiled noble to look like. Triple chin, swollen belly showing beneath clothes far too expensive for a man with such a rotten face, and an attitude that made Teclos want to carve the arrogance out of him.

But right now, he was also grateful.

Because this idiot had shoved himself into the open and handed them a golden opportunity.

Falcon now fully focused on killing the baron, forcing Sir Tris onto the defensive for the first time.

The noble, however, seemed to have lost his mind and refused to return to the room.

Teclos wondered if the baron had brain damage, or if he truly believed his knight could handle Falcon just as easily as before, even while protecting him at the same time.

In this situation, of all situations, Baron Morholt actually started arguing with his own knight.

His attitude was rotten beyond belief.

He insulted Sir Tris, demanding that he finish faster so he could go back to bed.

’I guess being fed with a golden spoon and spoiled your whole life really does turn you into... that,’ Teclos thought, shaking his head.

The opportunity to strike came quickly.

"For gods’ sake, Sir Tris, end him already," Morholt said, standing in the doorway.

Tris looked back for only a fraction of a second, visibly annoyed that his lord still refused to listen while he was literally being targeted by an assassin.

Falcon did not miss that fraction of a second.

From a crouched position, he spun with one leg extended. A strong gust of wind swept Tris’s legs off balance, and Falcon jumped into the air, preparing a wind slash with his sword while pulling the baron toward him with a vacuum from his other hand.

The baron screamed, suddenly remembering that his life was, in fact, in danger.

Tris, on the other hand, steadied himself and threw a small, weak fireball at Falcon, intending to interrupt him.

But like snakes coiling around their prey, shadow hands rose from the ground the moment he completed the throwing motion.

They wrapped around Sir Tris, and a scraping sound filled the corridor.

The hands had barbs on them.

A new addition born from Teclos’s better control.

They locked him firmly in place.

Of course, Tris only needed to burn them off, and he did. It took him just a second.

But that second was fatal.

A pitch-black, blurry figure suddenly appeared before his eyes and drove a blade up beneath his helmet, through his jaw and into his skull.

Ending his life.

Morholt truly panicked then and tried to scramble away, but Falcon did not let him.

After dodging the small fireball, he hung from the ceiling and completed the vacuum pull.

The baron was going nowhere.

A heartbeat later, Falcon pushed off the ceiling with incredible speed, flying toward the baron like a hawk. He landed to Morholt’s left, blade extended.

The wind pressure burst from his landing, clearing the heat, dust, and debris around them.

Then, after Falcon stood up, the baron’s head slid down.

And Morholt collapsed.

Dead.

"All right, let’s go help Derrick and Zaxx now. Take the head with you..." Falcon said.

There was no answer.

He looked back and saw Teclos frozen in place, standing over the knight’s corpse, his body trembling slightly.

"Kid?"

"...Yeah. J-just give me a moment."

"Hah. This your first kill? With movements like that, I thought you’d already be used to this."

"My movements?" Teclos asked, clinging to the conversation so the sensation in his hand would fade from his mind.

Technically, it was not his first kill.

He had killed plenty.

But those had been beasts and monsters, not people. And this knight had only been doing his duty. Granted, he had a shit boss, but he did not really deserve death for that.

Falcon watched him for a moment.

"...All right, listen. I’m going to help the others finish off the knights. Do remember that if the city guards storm in, we’ll be hanged for killing a noble, so don’t take too long."

And with that, he disappeared, rushing off to help them.

Now Teclos had no choice but to face his demons alone.

Without company.

His thoughts drifted to how he had preached to Saldia that they were not bad people. How he had justified his actions before by telling himself he only beat down people who owed money, people who had clearly borrowed more than they should have and wasted it on drugs anyway.

And all of that had led him here.

To taking an innocent life.

What if Sir Tris had family?

What if Teclos had just robbed a little boy or girl of their father?

And for what?

Yes, the noble was clearly a rotten dumbass who was rude and arrogant.

But this had only happened because Zamas’s pride was hurt.

What would Talmir think of him if he knew what Teclos had done for money and pride?

He was certain his father would have been disappointed.

"Shit... I... I’m sorry. May you rest in peace in a better place than this hell."

He bowed his head, took off the knight’s helmet, and closed his eyes.

Then he walked toward the baron’s severed head and stored it in his pocket dimension before rushing off to help Falcon, Derrick, and Zaxx.

He was certain he had just lost another part of himself, just like he had lost one in that dreadful tunnel.

But his will to live overpowered everything else.

He was even more afraid of losing his one and only family. If anyone found out he was behind the assassination, Saldia could very well end up hanging too.

—

Loud explosions rippled through the night, and both Derrick and Zaxx were at their limit.

Bloody and battered, they were being pushed around like dolls ready to break at any moment.

Derrick was holding the ice knight back, but only barely.

His golem arms crashed down again and again, breaking the courtyard stones beneath each strike, yet the knight slid between them with unnatural grace. Ice formed beneath his boots like a silver thread, carrying him around Derrick’s blows while his blue sword carved through stone fists as if they were wet clay.

Derrick grunted as one slash tore through the golem and across his shoulder guard, with frost rapidly spreading over the cut.

On the other side, Zaxx was doing even worse.

The old butler stepped through his flames without panic, magma crawling over his blade and hands like liquid iron. Zaxx blasted himself backward with fire from his feet, spun in midair, and hurled three knives wrapped in flame.

The old man cut two down.

And just dodged the third.

A wave of magma erupted and blanketed over Zaxx, swallowing him and the ground where he intended to land. He cursed and launched himself sideways explosively, but the butler predicted this, and a molten spear crashed into him, burning his torso badly as well as fully destroying the plated tunic.

Then, finally, relief came when the two knights were certain of victory and wind howled from behind the ice knight.

Falcon appeared behind him. His blade flashed once, wrapped in layers of compressed air, and cut through the knight’s shoulder plate.

"Urgghh!"

The knight twisted and disengaged just in time to avoid losing his arm completely. But it was still rendered useless now.

Derrick did not waste the opening.

He slammed both fists together, throwing the knight into a wall with a loud boom.

Then Falcon rushed to help Zaxx a heartbeat later, sending a crescent of wind into the old butler’s second magma wave, blocking it just enough so Zaxx could escape.

Zaxx grinned through bloody teeth.

"Took you long enough, my friend!"

Falcon did not look at him.

"Just concentrate on the fight."

The old man stepped out from the steam and dust that the clash had made, calm as ever.

The ice knight raised his sword with one hand.

The fight had become somewhat even now.

With Zaxx’s uncanny battle sense and Falcon’s support, they managed to hold the butler back. Their counters were brushed aside as easily as breathing, but his attacks were no longer landing either, so he began looking for a lapse in focus.

"Pest..." he said, eyes shifting to Falcon as he realized he had come from the mansion after ambushing his ally. "What happened to the lord?"

Falcon gave him no reaction.

"An assassin, huh..." the old man deduced. "Those two knuckleheads you call friends are different from a coward like you... so not an assassin organization." He probed.

"Stop yapping, old man, and fight! Hahaha, it’s just getting fun now!" Zaxx interrupted.

"Barking dogs should stay silent," the butler said.

Then he released another massive wave of magma toward them.

The whole mansion had become a battlefield. Multiple molten hands rose from the ground and walls, trying to catch Falcon, while the old man dashed after Zaxx and engaged him in close-quarters combat.

Derrick, on the other hand, had reached a stalemate against the ice knight. Both were injured, and both had shifted into long-range combat rather than trying to slash or smash each other directly.

Derrick even abandoned his golem shell for extra speed.

—

Zaxx was a genius when it came to close-quarters fights, but the old man was a monster.

Anything he did got blocked. And every time he tried to block, he got thrown around. Truly, this old man was far above him in battle prowess and experience.

It almost made him feel dejected.

And while he was thinking those useless thoughts—

A sword slammed into his mace and pushed it aside. The blade lodged itself into his shoulder, as he had not braced for the strike well enough.

Zaxx grimaced and retaliated with his other hand, trying to force the old man away and gain some distance.

But the old man knocked the mace out of his hand, then drove the wind out of his lungs with a rapid kick followed by a knee to the stomach.

"Zaxx!" Falcon screamed, releasing three wind blades toward the butler to buy time.

But they were easily blocked by a wall of magma.

The old man grabbed Zaxx by the throat with a molten hand, burning his neck severely. Then he poised his sword to pierce his skull with a final attack.

Through the grimace and the pain, Zaxx managed to say one word.

"Shit..."

Then the sword came rushing forward.

But in the next second, another blade drove through the old man’s back and out through his chest, coated in pitch-black mana.

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

So did Zaxx’s.

So did Falcon’s.

Blood spilled from the old man’s mouth before he slowly turned his head and saw something that looked less like a boy and more like a demon.

Teclos stood behind him, shrouded in black mana, his presence almost erased from existence. His eyes were pitch black, his face stone cold.

When the old man tried to move, Teclos simply pulled the sword from his chest and, in one quick and smooth motion, swung it again and decapitated him.

The old man’s head dropped to the floor.

Right at Zaxx’s feet.