I cut down the random mobs that emerged as I leaped from roof to roof until I finally reached the containers.
“Ugh... that rotten smell...”
The scent of blood was bearable, but this stench was enough to churn my stomach. Flecks of dried blood and filth clung to every surface, and corpses that appeared to have devoured one another were faintly visible through the gashes in the door.
“Horrific.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say. The interior must have been a miniature hell. As for what they did to each other in that place... I decided not to imagine it for the sake of my own sanity.
“By the way, where are Sinclair and Ji-hyeon?”
What concerned me most now were Sinclair, Ji-hyeon, and Sua. Sinclair could hold his own against foes like these, but protecting the two without Arts while fighting would be extremely difficult.
“Well now? What could a child be doing in a place like this~”
“...!”
I twisted my waist swiftly, parrying the hand flying toward me with my blade.
Crackle!
Gah!! Electricity...?!
The surge of power through my grip almost made me drop the sword.
“So you are this mission’s target.”
Electric Arts, ears keener than most races, and a scar beneath the eye. Yeah, this was the one.
“Target...? Ah, so it’s those Association guys?”
The Association. A clandestine group specializing in underworld assassinations. Though unofficial, its size and influence rivaled the public Association, hence the name.
“Well, let’s just say it is...!”
My body hadn’t fully warmed up to reach top speed. Still, I couldn’t just let this fool, who had rolled right in front of me, walk away.
I’ll at least cut off a leg.
Or end his life completely. Either way, it was better than retreating empty-handed.
“You have quite the spirit.”
I twisted aside whatever he hurled at me. It didn’t look like an explosive.
Too soon to judge. Could be a weapon I’m not familiar with.
With Originium technology advancing, weapons of all kinds were everywhere. They weren’t cheap, but in an organization of this size—and especially for its leader—having one wouldn’t be surprising.
“Hahaha!! You’re agile. How about this?”
Vroooooom!
“...Damn, is that a sword?!”
I swung aside the black objects drawn by his Arts, but they attached to my blade instead, their weight dragging the sword toward the ground.
Am I fighting an Arts Caster?
True Arts Caster combat. It was nothing like fighting a blade-only opponent. No—it was a whole different dimension of battle.
Electric Arts line... so these are...
“Magnets, huh... using annoying tactics.”
The objects were magnets moving along an electromagnetic field. There were four in total; I’d slashed one off, but it clung to the blade and refused to budge.
This is bad. Time to fall back.
If I swung now, I’d either lose my grip from the recoil or, worst case, have my sword ripped from my hand.
“Running away? Everyone runs the same way...”
Running away... not wrong, but I’d rather call it a tactical retreat. If I attacked again and failed, they’d call me a coward for fleeing!
I jumped between buildings, and oddly, the magnets lightened.
Range is roughly fifteen meters. Beyond that, he can’t control them?
Thankfully, I outpaced him easily. Rejoining the others came first.
“Intruder over there!”
“What a nuisance!”
After all that cutting, they’re still here. No wonder big organizations were never worth looting!
“No choice! [Yukcham Godan]!”
The opening motion resembled the [Hidden Tiger in the Forest Stance]. I hewed a broad slash from bottom to top.
“Ha! Full of gaps!”
Then, I deliberately left myself open and unleashed a merciless, all-around strike!
...
“...As expected, failure!”
Right. If I’d succeeded, I’d be the head of the Sword Sect by now. That kind of emotional shift—only Moejang could pull that off, not me.
“Ha! Just a kid after all! Scum—”
He couldn’t finish the insult. My sword bisected his head. A cascade of pink, noodle-like blood splattered to the ground.
“I’m sorry, but I only test techniques that can fail against the likes of you.”
The premise was flawed from the start. Against someone like him, even a few haphazard hits would be enough, so I simply used him as a sparring partner.
Tadadadak!
More footsteps. Again?
Clang!
My sword was knocked aside. Only one person here could have repelled my blade.
“Sinclair! You’re alive?”
“Hey! Who swings a sword at first sight?!”
Well, you blocked it, so complain all you like.
“Aaaah!! Come at me!!”
“Kyaaah!! No!!”
Huh. Quite a crowd.
“Alright, Sinclair. Go.”
“Wait, not together? You’re sending me alone?”
“Just buy me ten seconds. Then I’ll wipe them out.”
I needed something bigger—sharpening a cold rage around the blade with that same sensation I’d used when I cut that beast...
Imprint breath into every part of the body... feel it... breathe...
I closed my eyes. The only sounds were the clashing of metal, the din of battle, and the pounding cries.
...Now!
“Duck down, Sinclair!!”
[Rhino Horn Clash Stance — Modified]
I executed a lateral slash with both hands instead of an upward cut. The blade path became uniform, and my focus sharpened.
Worth the preparation. It took longer than usual to execute, but the power is undeniable.
Everyone except the ducking Sinclair—about a dozen burly men—were cleaved in half, and part of the container beside me tore open.
“...A-amazing.”
“Who the hell are you...?”
“Us? We are...”
“Why should we care who you are? My men?!!!”
Dammit, they already caught up.
“Sinclair. His Arts has a fifteen-meter range. He uses magnets. Be careful not to let them stick to your blade.”
“Got it. Let’s do this.”
“Who are we? We’re lost swordsmen—the blades once wielded for others’ sake.”
“Wielded for others’ sake...?”
“Hold on... that sword... the red tassels... that sword...?!”
“I thought you all had gone south into the city.”
“We are the Sword Sect.”
Even if they are lost swords, even if their purpose has been sullied, they shall be wielded for others.
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