"...How many times does this make?"
"The seventh time, Master. It is proof that as the caliber of our enemies rises, we draw ever closer to Camelot. I suggest you view it in a positive light."
"If I could rotate my perspective that optimistically, do you think I'd be suffering this much...?"
I was an expert at moving undetected through various Mystic Codes and concealment spells, but the closer we drew to Camelot, the more frequent the detection arrays and scrutiny magecraft became. Experts capable of sensing a Servant's presence were appearing with alarming regularity.
Of course, we weren't at a level where we could be easily tracked—not with Tristan, an Archer with the highest degree of stealth outside the Assassin class, and myself, who could fundamentally mask my own prana. However, the sheer volume of forces they were throwing at the search meant that my heart skipped a beat more than once.
"Still, it is fortunate that your Puppetry is so refined... Though I suppose 'corpse manipulation' would be a more accurate description."
"It's merely a short-term measure."
When it came to piercing a dragnet, nothing surpassed the information extraction of the Human Path. Even low-ranking soldiers knew their patrol routes and the locations of various traps. By extracting their souls and reading their memories, we could secure a safe passage.
Then, after planting a prana receiver into the dead soldier's body and sending him back to their barracks, everything was solved. As long as they wore helmets that covered half their faces, there was no way to detect the Rinnegan—the mark of my control. Other than the shared vision across the five senses and the ability to use one of the Six Paths' powers, there were no physical changes or distinctive prana fluctuations.
"By the way, I'm a bit surprised. Tristan, even you can't tell the difference between a corpse puppet and a real human?"
"If I look closely... there are various sense of incongruity. Lines of death that should be visible on a living being are absent, and the way the muscles move or the gaze settles differs from a normal human. However, unless we were engaged in a frontal melee like in the Fourth Holy Grail War, it would be impossible to see through it at a glance."
"That's good enough. What I really don't understand is how you ever planned to get through this encirclement and reach the mountains in the first place."
"Well... as long as we reached the mountain, that was all that mattered. Sir Mordred and I simply charged through. As for the locations of the corrupted Servants, we didn't have to worry about an immediate encounter as long as we avoided the coordinates provided by Sir Agravain. The rest of the small fry... could be dealt with by my Noble Phantasm."
"That's certainly a... convenient solution."
Indeed, with the shared 'God's Eye' perspective, one could easily find a route that avoided enemy Servants, at least until reaching the mountains.
"And since the Enforcement Knights are ultimately expendable, we could make contact with the mountain while they slaughtered the enemies—wait."
"...What is it?"
Tristan stopped in his tracks, drawing the bow at his waist.
Failnaught—a bow shaped like a harp that fired arrows of prana with a simple pluck of the string, even without a physical shaft...
'...Enemies?'
'There could be nothing else in a place like this. It seems they have sensed us as well; they have suppressed their presence.'
'Then there's no point in dragging this out.'
The moment Tristan plucked Failnaught, a powerful repulsive force erupted, crushing everything in the vicinity simultaneously. Splintered trees were slammed into the ground instantly, and only the human figures remaining behind them retreated, revealing themselves.
Faint, hazy impressions... robed figures... and 20-centimeter dirks held in both hands.
"Assassins. And specifically, the Old Men of the Mountain."
"To think one who deceptively mocked our Founder would dare speak the name of the Old Man of the Mountain."
"...I thought a non-aggression pact had been made with Hassan of the Cursed Arm. Or perhaps you hold a different opinion? Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke."
"And if I do?"
Tristan gripped his bow, and I deployed a force field to prevent any incoming dirks or poisonous mist from penetrating.
However... searching through the memories associated with the name 'Intoxicating Smoke,' I realized the situation was far from ideal.
'...This is troublesome. Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke is a foe even a Gifted Tristan would find hard to hit... He's likely the type that turns into smoke, isn't he? Moreover, there's no way a Hassan-i-Sabbah would act alone. He is an Assassin, after all...'
At that moment, Tristan's hand plucked the harp strings three times, and the form of a Hassan-i-Sabbah, who had vanished into a black poisonous mist, appeared behind my back.
A dirk was thrust; prana strings embedded themselves where the Hassan stood; he vanished into smoke again, melting into the environment. Presence Concealment Rank EX—the anomalous rank possessed only by Assassins on the level of Hassan-i-Sabbah—is a bizarre ability that literally allows one to melt away 'as if they had always been part of that spot.'
Just as the earth, rocks, and trees belonged there, it seemed 'Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke' belonged there. To distinguish him, I had to forcibly utilize the Rinnegan's vision to capture the heterogenous nature of his prana.
"This is why... I hate the Assassin class!"
BOOM!
A massive repulsive force formed with a thunderous roar, blowing away the black mist drifting in the air. The mist coalesced, and Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke descended to the ground, once again in human form.
Tristan frowned and raised his bow again, but I grabbed his hand and spoke.
"If we use any more force here, we'll be caught by the patrols. It's possible we've already been compromised."
"I know, Master. That creature likely showed himself before us with that in mind. Simply engaging us in guerrilla warfare like this would be enough to hinder us."
"No, the one I aim for is only that human harboring such malice. Knight of the Round Table, I have no intention of fighting you, so I request that you withdraw."
"You have a remarkably noble way of telling me to swallow poison, Old Man of the Mountain. Though, given that your specialty is striking from the shadows like cowards, I suppose I shouldn't expect much else."
"...If you refuse the invitation to drink, then I shall gladly pour the poison down your throat!"
Strings flew, and the body, turned into black mist, lunged for Tristan's throat.
The two were essentially entangled in combat, making it a headache to attack without hitting Tristan. Tristan, perhaps realizing this, abandoned long-range tactics for a frontal brawl. While it was impossible to wound the enemy by plucking the bow at range, he lured the Assassin into close quarters, grabbing him by the collar or striking with his fists. It was a violent style, but it was accumulating heavy, blunt impacts upon the Hassan.
Before long, the surroundings looked like a disaster zone. The landscape was shattered, crushed, and shredded as if a small meteor shower had struck it.
Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke, in the form of a giant mist, circled Tristan like he was being driven by the wind, waiting for an opening. Tristan likewise seemed to be waiting for the moment the Assassin reverted to human form, discarding his bow to draw a sword—a secondary armament.
And then, it happened.
"...Guh!"
"Tristan!"
Dark red blood erupted from Tristan's mouth. The purple mist that had been circling him vanished instantly, as if it had been a mere illusion.
I understood the situation in an instant.
"Hassan of Serenity!"
"You are slow to understand, Malice!"
But unfortunately, the Assassins were faster than my realization.
They invaded through the gaps in my staggered vision, and a thick dirk was thrust near my throat.
"...Tch, you maintain it even in this state?"
"It's a semi-automatic bounded field... Where do you think you're going!"
Realizing his approach had failed, Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke turned back into mist, but I could clearly perceive the physical entity of Hassan of Serenity with my eyes. The attractive force of Bansho Ten’in pulled the concealed Serenity directly into my grasp. Instead of panicking, she used the momentum to slash her own body with her dirk, spraying blood as she was pulled toward me.
"Do you really think poison will work on me?!"
"Kh...!"
With her neck in my grip, she desperately swung her dirk to claw at my face. In exchange, I slammed a missile into her abdomen.
BOOM! A massive explosion erupted. Though a portion of her side was shredded, Serenity narrowly survived and lay twitching, crawling across the ground. Intoxicating Smoke, who had reappeared, threw dozens of dirks instead of aiding her, before vanishing into mist once more.
"...Whew, they really know how to piss a person off... Enough to make me want to kill them all, cooperation be damned..."
"...That would be troublesome, Master."
"Tristan! Are you okay?"
"I have the Gift of Reversal... It is bearable. In a short while, my body will become immune to most poisons."
"Who would've thought the Lion King... would give out a pseudo-God Hand as a Gift... Stay right there!"
Heavy gravity slammed down on Serenity as she tried to force herself up and flee.
She didn't possess an ability like Battle Continuation that would let her keep fighting with a shattered body, but her Independent Action skill granted enough mobility for her to stubbornly attempt an escape even with a gouged side. Of course, that was her limit.
Capturing Hassan of Serenity, pinned by gravity tens of times its normal strength, was no difficult task. While I gave her a makeshift treatment, Tristan plucked his strings, binding her tightly. Once I donned her with prana-suppressing shackles retrieved from the Naraka Path, preparations for a proper conversation were complete.
But at that moment, the piercing sound of a whistle echoed from afar. Tristan frowned and spoke.
"The pursuers seem to be here already. It would be wise to depart."
"Indeed... In that case, I'll have to deal with this first!"
Summoning the mouth of the Naraka Path, I threw Hassan of Serenity—who was still tied up and glaring at Tristan and me—into the mouth of the King of Hell. Something that sounded like a shrill scream and what I assumed were their specific curses echoed in my ears, but Tristan and I ignored them entirely. We glanced briefly at the Crusader soldiers rushing toward us like they were under Mad Enhancement, then quickened our pace and vanished from the scene.
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