Chapter 43: City of Fanatics (4)

Crash!

Nike, who had held back until the limit, exploded with rage and charged forward. The attendant stepped in front of the noblewoman, opening the parasol, and a volley of poisoned needles shot out.

“!”

An unexpected ambush. Nike reacted instantly.

Since he hadn’t been granted permission to use magic yet, the option he chose was simply to take the hit.

Thud!

Nike raised his forearm to shield his face while keeping his speed. The needles pierced his skin, and veins quickly turned blue.

Normally, the poison would kill a person within three steps.

“Blegh. Poison…!”

Nike flinched and staggered for a moment. Foam bubbled at his lips, but he licked it off with his tongue, then grinned and charged again.

“A sharp taste. A delicacy as expected!”

The poison wasn’t able to break through the resistance built from eating venomous snakes and poisonous mushrooms deep in the mountains every day.  

“What the…!”

The maidservant faltered and backed away at the sight of him unaffected even with dozens of poisoned needles stuck in his body. Nike drove his fist straight into her face.

Crack!

The sound of shattered cheekbones rang out crisply.

Kiiiing—

“Agh!”

Splash!

A chilling sound rose behind them. People screamed. Metal ripped through flesh. Something splashed into the river beneath the bridge.

It was the sound of bodies hitting the water.

Fanatics wouldn’t suddenly throw themselves into the river, which meant the screams and the falling bodies could only mean one thing.

‘Master is here!’

‘Boss!’

Without hesitation, Rowen drew the dagger hidden in her clothes and hurled it.

It was a throw aimed at the forehead of the Seventh Seat of the Third Order with perfect accuracy. The noblewoman didn’t scream.

Even with her face completely crushed, the maidservant who had risen again took the dagger in her place without hesitation. It was madness.

The attendant collapsed after sacrificing herself.

The parasol was stained red with blood.

Rowen’s brow furrowed.

Just as the rumors said, they were fanatics. There was no hesitation or fear in throwing away their lives.

Magis didn’t so much as glance at her dead subordinate and sneered coldly.

“…How foolish. You’ll regret this.”

“Your threats are clumsy. Very.”

“Oh? Is that so… Heh. I’ll practice before next time then. We’ll meet again.”

The noblewoman laughed coldly at Rowen’s retort and turned her back.

“Stop right there!”

Rowen tried to seize Magis before she could escape.

Rumble—

The ground trembled. From all directions, humans emerged from hiding places.

There were dozens within sight alone, all charging madly with Nike as their target.

Shops, beneath the bridge, watchtowers, alleys, and bushes. Like a swarm of zombies drawn to fresh blood, they came.

Amid that endless tide, the noblewoman vanished at ease. Rowen gritted her teeth, eyes blazing.

‘Damn it! I needed to catch her.’

She was the most important target, the one who had to be captured no matter what, but the situation gave her no chance.

“Rowen! Nike! Over here!”

Vigo, who had slaughtered the fanatics holding the bridge, waved his arm and shouted.

“…Let’s go, Nike!”

“Hunt! Vice boss! Permission to use magic!”

Nike roared, standing alone against the tide of fanatics like a titan resisting nature itself.

Rowen, aghast, grabbed Nike by the scruff of the neck.

“What are you doing! Move, now!”

* * *

‘Dang it.’

As he was dragged along, Nike clicked his tongue.

Running didn’t suit him.

What predator ever feared ants?

‘But boss and vice boss are serious. I’ll keep my mouth shut.’

They had no idea how or when they’d been exposed, but their cover was blown the moment they entered the city, and they had faced the enemy leader head-on.

The leader had slipped away without a chance to act, and now they were being chased by hundreds of zombie-like fanatics.

The appearance of someone who introduced herself as the Seventh Seat of the Third Order had not just been unexpected, it was fatal.

That one move had ruined the entire infiltration plan.

It was like setting dozens of traps across the mountains to catch a boar, only for the boar to appear the next day in the yard, snorting and raging.

“…For the head of the Third Order herself to appear. Completely unexpected.”

“What do we do!”

“First, we find a safe place. Our cover’s blown, so infiltration doesn’t matter anymore. That brat from the Scales will have prepared an escape route. All we need is to rendezvous!”

“Yes!”

Even if most of their foes were just ordinary people with no combat ability, there was no safety.

They were fanatics, and if they wanted something, they’d stop at nothing. With their numbers in the hundreds and the city itself as their den, they were dangerous.

“Get them! It’s that boy!”

“Grab him and cut his Achilles tendons!”

Turn into an alley, and ordinary old men, merchants, and housewives pulled knives and lunged.

“Hahaha. The Gesibelons next door were quite the couple last night.”

“You heard it too? I heard it! Tireless, weren’t they~?”

“Kyahaha!”

“Ah, how enviable. Hohoho…”

“But anyway… kill them.”

Casual conversations twisted suddenly into murder.

“Catch them! Catch them!”

“Go! Slit everyone’s throats except the child!”

“Kill all the witch hunters!!!”

They couldn’t just cut down everyone they saw, since there really were ordinary civilians mixed in who might get caught in the crossfire.

“Nike! Don’t look back! Avoid contact as much as possible, just run!”

Vigo led from the front, with Rowen dragging Nike along.

The desperate chase tore through alleys until they burst into a plaza.

Well-paved streets and a clean fountain.

Water splashing, sunlight shining warmly.

Civilians going about their everyday lives.

“…”

“…”

Their mouths were smiling, their heads turned toward conversation partners, yet every single pair of eyes was locked on the three who had just emerged from the alley.

A woman hanging laundry from a third-floor window.

A hunchback clown entertaining in the plaza.

A richly dressed noblewoman flaunting her wealth.

A mercenary with a sword, drinking on a terrace.

All of them.

They were all Golden Dawn.

“Haha. These disgusting bastards.”

“Damn it…”

“Zombies! They’re zombies!”

An entire city wearing masks, playing out a performance with Nike as the target.

The genre was mystery horror.

“Catch them! Catch them dammit!”

“He’s the sacrifice to the great star!”

“Claim the glory!!!”

“Aaah!”

The clown hurled a circus knife, the laundress flung down a flowerpot, the mercenary drew his blade and charged with a scream, and the elegant noblewoman hitched her dress up to her thighs and dashed at them with a dagger.

“Nike. Open us a path east.”

“Ooh!”

At Vigo’s order, Nike charged forward as if he had been waiting for it.

“Master. Shouldn’t we just wipe them all out here—”

“No. Don’t waste your strength. Focus only on reaching the rendezvous.”

“But I’m slowing you guys down…”

At those words, Vigo turned a fearsome glare on Rowen.

“Are you treating me like some old man who can’t handle one disciple?”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant…”

“Then shut your mouth and follow. There’s no time for bickering.”

“…Yes.”

Even if Vigo had denied it, Rowen still felt like she was holding them back. She hated being baggage more than death itself. But once again, the reality was that she was useless.  

“Brat. Open the way.”

“Leave it to me!”

Nike grinned and sprinted.

The other two followed the path he carved.

“Hyah!”

“Haap!”

“Abyo!”

Nike’s steps were death itself. His fists struck like the tongue of an anteater.

Wherever he passed, people dropped like leaves in the wind. Limbs snapped, blood spilled everywhere.

Yet, not one person died. Instead, many were left crippled so badly that death might have been mercy.

After cutting down about thirty percent of the mob in the plaza, they finally managed to shake off pursuit.

A relatively quiet alley.

Just before turning a corner, Nike flashed past Vigo like lightning.

“Heretic!”

He leaped, snapping the neck of a man who had been lying in wait at the alley’s mouth.

Clang!

A dagger clattered to the ground. The man’s wrist bore the Eye of Providence.

Nike had detected the ambush and struck first. Vigo could have reacted, but Nike had simply been faster.

“Well done. They really are like vermin.”

“Boss. Not vermin. Zombies.”

“Does that matter right now?”

“It matters.”

“I see...”

Vigo gave up on arguing. With no time to rest, the three sprinted again.

“There. The rendezvous point…!”

At last, they reached the appointed place. By plan, Pierre should have been waiting with an escape route ready.

But Vigo stopped abruptly and thrust out his arm to block Rowen and Nike.

“…!”

Rowen clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

The carriage was drenched in blood. Their supposed ally Pierre was the hostage, bleeding heavily on the ground. It seemed like he was already dealt with.

“Kgh!”

“Hand over the boy quietly. Or else, I’ll slit his throat.”

A man held a blade to Pierre’s neck. In an instant, more fanatics swarmed in, surrounding them.

“I-I’m fine! Just leave me and run…!”

Pierre forced out the words. The man gagged him, and the circle closed tighter. Escape was impossible now.

Vigo sighed heavily and clenched a cigarette between his lips.

“This is… why I hate coming here. Fanatics make my skin crawl.”

Even battling a witch would have been healthier for his mind.

“Yes! It’s tiring!”

Even Nike agreed. After this experience, he understood Vigo’s reaction perfectly.

Fighting witches or monsters was simpler and saner than this.

Even a veteran like Vigo had his patience worn thin.

With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, Vigo jerked his chin.

“Kill him.”

“Hm?”

“But you’ll all die too.”

Murderous intent rippled out like a wave. Escape no longer mattered.

He was ready to turn this place into a sea of blood.

With their escape route cut off, there was nothing behind them but a cliff.

“Rage. Slaughter. Bloodbath!”

Nike twisted his neck until it cracked, his eyes burning red.

When gnats gathered in swarms, he couldn’t hold back anymore either.

“You think I won’t do it?”

“I told you, just kill him. You talk too much.”

“Fine! I will then!”

The fanatic grinned like a clown’s mask and sliced at Pierre’s throat.

But Nike warped the space around Pierre’s neck in secret.

The blade cut empty air and sliced into the fanatic’s forearm instead.

“Ggh! W-What the?!”

In the blink of an eye, Nike had subdued the man holding Pierre hostage, wrenching his arm free and striking his solar plexus until he collapsed unconscious.

Pierre’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t understand how Nike had gotten to him so fast. Quick didn’t even begin to describe it.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Arrows suddenly rained down from somewhere above, dropping fanatics all around them.

“Kill them all! They’re heretics who corrupt the city and the Empire!”

“Hm?”

Soldiers, appearing like heroes.

Vigo turned his head.

On the rooftops, archers had their bows drawn. In the distance, city guards charged in on horseback.

“Master! We should run in the chaos!”

“Slaughter!”

“No.”

Vigo raised his hand, stopping the other two from stepping forward.

“Wait. That man… he doesn’t look like an enemy.”

The lead knight dismounted from the horse. Vigo didn’t blink. If need be, he was ready to cut the man’s throat and steal his horse.

The knight, sweat dripping, removed his helmet and straightened his hair. He looked to be around forty, a noble. He asked politely,

“Are you hurt?”

Vigo answered immediately.

“No. Thanks for the help. I know this isn’t the time, but I must ask. Are you the Golden Dawn?”

Feigning help to lower their guard and then ambushing them, that would be just like those wretched fanatics.

Vigo stayed sharp, his killing aura undiminished.

“You’re mistaken. We’re not.”

“Then who? Who are you, to help us?”

The man hesitated, then his face darkened.

“…I am the incompetent lord who let heretics seize the city, Count Simas.”

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.