Chapter 215 Coming from the Past
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
My skill barely triggered in time.
The cloak he had tossed aside so carelessly was a ruse-a feint to mask his draw. I only realized it because my hearing, sharpened by hyper-focus, caught the faint clink of the blade’s shoulder clearing the scabbard behind the fluttering fabric.
I leveled my sword, skin crawling with dread, just as the tip of his greatsword erupted from the cloak’s shadow. I twisted instinctively, leaping back while batting at the flat of his blade, but that slab of pig iron was too heavy; my strike didn’t budge its trajectory an inch.
”You used it, didn’t you?” Arman said.
”-Tch! You think I’d dare hold anything back against you?”
His bladework was as terrifyingly sharp as ever. Even with Concentration¹ honing my thoughts to a razor’s edge, I was barely managing to parry by the skin of my teeth. What galled me most, though, was knowing this was just a warm-up.
We had been friends once. We knew each other’s kits inside out. Concentration was, effectively, a reaction-speed buff, but my body-now a decade out of its prime-struggled to keep up with the accelerated world my mind saw.
That opening feint had been a test, a way to gauge the lag between my intent and my execution. A veteran like Arman would have seen it instantly: I was a shadow of the warrior I used to be.
”You’ve grown dull,” Arman said, his voice dripping with mock-sorrow. “A tragedy.”
”Excuse me? Since when did I need your pity?” I snapped. “If idiots like you didn’t spend their time attacking people, I wouldn’t need to pick up a sword at all!”
Arman didn’t follow up. He lowered his guard, letting his disappointment hang heavy in the air. That look-that wretched, pitying stare-said it all: he believed my only value lay in the strength he’d once respected.
I couldn’t miss the sheer arrogance beneath it. On the surface, he was mourning a friend’s decline.
In reality, he was mourning his own ego; he was upset that the “version of me” he’d once deemed worthy of his respect no longer existed. The truth was, my swordsmanship had eroded.
It was nothing compared to ten years ago. But choosing this life had given me perspectives and connections I never could have found as an Adventurer, never knowing if I’d live to see the next season.
Even now, with his blade at my throat, I could say with absolute certainty: it was worth the trade.
Yet here he was, playing the martyr, acting as if I had insulted him by moving on. The sheer audacity of it-the way he wore that “betrayed” expression while trying to murder me-made my contempt flare hotter than my fear.
It snapped me out of my panic. I found myself sneering, ready to tear his narcissistic delusions apart. Arman’s smile vanished. He gripped his greatsword with both hands.
”Ha! You throw yourself into a power struggle and then claim you have no use for force? Don’t make me laugh!” Arman shouted. “If you loved your life so much, you should have stayed in your counting house and stayed out of our way!”
”I told you! I’m only here because some bastard laid a finger on my protege!” I screamed back.
Maybe he was right. Maybe if I’d just focused on the books, I’d be safe. But from a business standpoint, is it ever “correct” to let a valuable, hard-earned connection be slaughtered just because you’re afraid of the risk?
Even with my life on the line, I didn’t regret standing up for what was mine during the audience. What I felt wasn’t regret-it was a burning rage at the self-serving logic of men like Arman and Marquis Kimble.
I didn’t need to win. I just needed to not die. I didn’t know how long this barrier would hold, but Silcro would start looking for me the second I was late. If he got word to the Princess’s Faction, they’d send mages who could see through this concealment.
My goal wasn’t to break through his Rigid Body²-a skill that turned his skin into armor. My goal was to survive. Conserve stamina. Buy seconds. Because as much as I hated him, Arman was a nightmare of an assassin to handle.
”Hmph. I see now. You didn’t want to lose that guide. But was he worth your life? If you were both going to end up dead, you should have cut him loose from the start,” Arman sneered.
”Hah! And I suppose you’re ‘right’ because you’re willing to butcher an old friend? Don’t you dare try to drag me down into the gutter with a piece of trash like you!” I spat.
No matter what I said, he just kept talking in that grandiose, self-justifying tone. I couldn’t even bring myself to stall for time anymore; listening to him was nauseating.
I forced a defiant smirk, trying to look like I had an ace up my sleeve. It seemed to work-his rugged face twisted into a scowl. But that just made his next flurry even more vicious. I immediately regretted my big mouth.
”Come on! Come on! What’s the matter?! You can’t win by just taking hits! If you fall here, all that big talk was just a pathetic fantasy! Stop backpedaling and fight me!” Arman provoked.
”Ngh… shut… up…!” I groaned.
(Easier said than done…) I snarled internally.
Arman had two skills that fed into each other perfectly. Rigid Body meant a normal blade couldn’t even nick his skin; he could literally catch my sword with his shoulder and not bleed. Pair that with Physical Enhancement³, and he could strike from impossible angles with terrifying power.
Even worse, the durability of Rigid Body allowed him to push his muscles far past their natural limits without tearing them. He was a perpetual motion machine of violence.
I couldn’t afford to attack. I had to dodge, parry, and pray my stamina didn’t redline before help arrived. But even with my old Adventurer blessings, I was out of practice. As soon as he stopped playing around, I started to fray.
”Hmph. I thought you were hiding a trump card, but you really are helpless. The woman I knew was cautious. Did you honestly think you were safe just because you were in the middle of the city?” Arman mocked.
”Shut… up! Stop acting like your depravity is just ‘how the world works’!” I barked.
I refused to accept that. I knew people like him existed-vultures who used “necessity” to justify any atrocity-but that didn’t make it right. I realized then that to the Marquis, I wasn’t even a threat; I was just a message. A sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered to intimidate the Princess.
”Logic dictates that for a better world to be born, atrocities must be permitted. That is your only value now. If you hate that reality, you should have prepared for it,” Arman stated.
”Who decided that?! I’ll never accept your ‘logic’!” I cried.
His every word was a poison of self-righteousness. I wanted to scream, but the barrier kept me trapped in this nightmare with him. My anger was making me sloppy, and my sword felt like it weighed a ton. My breath was coming in ragged gasps. Arman saw it. He looked down at me with that same, loathsome pity.
”…You’ve become such a boring woman. You never should have married a man like that,” Arman said.
The world went still.
Every ounce of frustration, every bit of lingering regret for my “lost” friend… it all just vanished.
(A man like that? Shouldn’t have married?)
Did this man actually believe-even for a second-that he was superior to Silcro? Silcro, who carried the weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders? Did Arman honestly think I had stayed single all those years because I was waiting for him?
It hit me then. Arman never saw me as a friend. To him, I was a trophy he’d failed to claim. I was the only one who had ever valued our “friendship.”
The realization turned my boiling blood into ice. The man in front of me wasn’t a friend who had lost his way. He was just an assassin with a bruised ego. I knew I probably wasn’t going to make it out of this-I was too exhausted to run-but I’d be damned if I didn’t take a piece of him with me.
”Hmph. Finally realized you were wrong?” Arman asked.
(No… I’m going for your legs. I’ll make sure you never walk, let alone fight, ever again. Yes… that’s the play.)
Arman had once told me that Rigid Body wasn’t perfect. If you hit the same spot enough, the vibration would still cause internal hemorrhaging. My only regret was that I hadn’t realized he was a scumbag five minutes ago.
I could have saved so much energy. My fatigue vanished, replaced by a cold, murderous clarity. My Concentration tightened. Arman noticed the shift in my stance. He stopped talking and leveled his blade, realizing the prey was finally going to bite.
I braced myself to throw my life away just to cripple him-
”Oh, dear. That simply won’t do. Spouting such filth about a husband to his own wife? That’s the sort of drivel a pathetic, lonely bachelor mumbles into his ale, isn’t it?”
A cheerful, bright voice rang out, cutting through the artificial silence of the barrier. This was a high-level isolation field powered by a massive magic stone. It should have taken a team of specialists to even find it, let alone break in. A single person’s voice shouldn’t have been able to reach us.
”Who’s there?!” Arman barked, his “checkmate” confidence shattering as he spun around.
I didn’t let my guard down, but I used the distraction to put some distance between us, keeping both Arman and the source of the voice in my sight.
”Just to be certain… I take it the gentleman is the one playing the part of the thug?” the voice asked.
”What… how? How did you get in here?!” Arman demanded.
Perched atop the mana lamp that dimly lit the alley sat a silhouette in charcoal black. They had bypassed the barrier and gotten right above us without either of us sensing a thing. The sheer level of skill required was terrifying.
”If you’re asking ‘how,’ then this tacky barrier really is your handiwork. You’re quite the veteran, aren’t you? A bit much for just bullying a lady, though,” the figure teased.
”You…! To get the jump on me like that… you’re no amateur. Name yourself!” Arman ordered.
The figure bathed in the mana light was… a girl. A young girl. She was dressed in jet-black tactical gear designed to swallow the light, her long black hair tied back and whipping in the wind. Her eyes were like obsidian-so dark they made her pale skin look like porcelain.
”Hehe. It seems the gentleman isn’t familiar with the etiquette of our trade. Allow a senior to offer a lesson: a lapdog doesn’t need a name,” the girl laughed.
”A-! A lapdog?! You’re calling me a lapdog?!” Arman roared.
Arman’s face turned purple. His pride as a “knight” was clearly his trigger. But looking at him now-a man who had just tried to justify a cold-blooded assassination-I couldn’t think of a better word for him.
The girl ignored his tantrum. She had just voiced the one truth neither of us wanted to acknowledge. With a graceful, mocking leap, she bypassed Arman’s reach and landed softly right at my side.
—
Summary:
Arman corners the protagonist within an isolation barrier, revealing his murderous intent and his patronizing view of her marriage to Silcro.
The protagonist reaches a breaking point, shifting from defensive stalling to a suicidal offensive resolve aimed at crippling her former friend. A mysterious young girl in black tactical gear suddenly infiltrates the ‘impenetrable’ barrier, mocking Arman’s status as a lackey.
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Trivia:
- Arman’s armor-like skin actually vibrates, meaning high-frequency or repeated strikes can bypass the defense.
- The protagonist’s ‘Concentration’ skill is specifically limited by her physical de-aging/lack of training.
- The Marquis used Arman specifically as a message to the Princess’s Faction, not just to kill the protagonist
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Character Insight:
The protagonist experiences a total severance of her past emotional ties to Arman when he insults her husband, shifting her from a survivalist mindset to a cold, ‘executioner’ mindset.
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Glossary:
Notes:
• Arman – A rugged, weathered man once known as a Knight of Glory, now an assassin serving Marquis Kimble, he wears polished steel armor scarred by battle, his stern gaze hidden beneath a tattered cloak and a dented helm. Formerly Marina’s loyal escort and the narrator’s closest friend, he was cast out three months ago—his fractured loyalty now fueled by a quiet thirst for redemption, his body enhanced by Rigid Body and Physical Enhancement, making him a deadly, silent force in the shadows.
• Kimble – The Kimble family name, specifically referring to the Marquis. This noble lineage is currently embroiled in a power struggle against the Princess’s Faction.
• Silcro – Baron Confianza, a short, rotund quiet genius, hides his sharp mind behind an unassuming look. He administers the livelihoods of tens of thousands and holds a high rank in the Princess’s faction. Loyal to the Princess, he safeguards his wife Roeni, his greatest love and asset.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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