Don had not yet succumbed to the frenzied flame; his memory was crystal clear. He distinctly remembered Blaidd stating on the day of his knighthood that he never touched alcohol, yet this "Wolf" had just accepted an invitation to drink. Moreover, their initial meeting at the gate had been far too uncanny.
No matter how perfect the disguise, that fleeting second of confusion in the Wolf's eyes had been snagged by Don's sharp intuition. It was understandable—Don't's merits were classified, and his rise had been so meteoric that outside intelligence agencies would have struggled to find reliable data on him.
So, who was this?
Having confirmed his suspicion, Don hesitated for only a heartbeat. He initially thought of the Cuckoo Knights, but dismissed it immediately. The disguise was flawless, the psychological composure immense, and it had even fooled the Fingercreepers' detection. This was a professional.
He opened his mouth to shout "Enemy attack," but swallowed the words back down. Don't's status was unique; the manor's defense forces wouldn't necessarily follow a new knight's order to arrest a high-ranking official like Blaidd. If the impostor played his cards right, he could slap a "treason" charge on Don before anyone could blink.
What to do?
His legs moved faster than his brain. Don lunged forward, catching up to the impostor.
The two entered the lift to the inner keep together. The Albinauric guards didn't stop them. A second flicker of confusion crossed the Wolf's eyes. The inner keep was restricted; only royal confidants were permitted entry, yet this "familiar" youth appeared in none of the organization's files.
But the assassin played his part well, maintaining a mask of cold indifference. He listened to Don's incessant chatter, offering only brief, clipped responses that radiated a "stay away" aura.
It was precisely this coldness that sealed the deal. Blaidd's aloofness varied depending on the person; with those he shared a life-and-death bond with, he showed a more prickly, "tsundere" side. And Don knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he and the real Blaidd shared exactly such a bond.
They entered the Royal Keep. Trolls and attendants showed no reaction. Don's mental fortitude was ironclad; he showed not a hint of suspicion, cracking jokes just as he usually did.
As they passed the moon-viewing pool, the three magic towers rose before them. The Glintstone Dragon Adula was not in her usual spot. Don checked the sky; it was exactly the hour the dragon left to hunt.
He scouted the area? Don thought. He synchronized his move with the dragon's patrol.
The Wolf stopped ahead of him.
"Thou art not permitted to follow me further."
Still that cold, rigid tone. Facing such a man, anyone with a normal IQ wouldn't dare push their luck.
"Fine, fine. I'll wait for you to come back for that drink," Don replied with a cheerful wave. The moment the Wolf lifted his right foot, just as his heel was about to touch the ground, Don't's smile vanished. His raised hand snapped back to the hilt of his blade, and his thumb flicked the guard.
Clang—
Iai-Slash!
Don pushed this body to its absolute limit. The strike was sudden, lightning-fast, and violent. In a fraction of a second, the blade whistled toward the impostor's waist. However, the moment the blade cleared the scabbard, the tall silhouette lunged forward, performing a roll with a reaction speed far exceeding that of a normal human.
The passing blade sheared off a few tufts of fur. Don't's eyes widened as he watched the figure spring back to its feet.
Such reaction speed. Even the real Blaidd would have struggled to dodge that.
Without a moment's hesitation, Don stepped forward to pursue. In a fluid motion, he twisted his wrist, raising the long blade above his head and gripping the hilt with both hands.
Ashina Cross!
A horizontal and vertical slash merged into a perfect cross of light, clashing against a massive greatsword a millisecond later.
CLANG!!
The Wolf crouched low, sparks flying as the katana ground against the greatsword. His eyes were wide with shock, yet his gaze remained icy.
"What art thou doing?"
The words were spoken, but the impostor's mind was racing, trying to figure out where he had slipped up. Don, however, split his lips into a grin that looked remarkably like a villain's.
"Blaidd... today is the day you die!"
What?
The assassin was momentarily bewildered. Had Don called him an impostor, he would have dropped the act immediately. But this sounded like a personal vendetta between the swordsman and the Wolf.
So I didn't blow my cover? I'm just... unlucky?
The organization hadn't gathered data on this swordsman; they had no idea where he'd come from, much less what grievance he held against Blaidd. After a split second of thought, the Wolf threw a right punch.
Thwack.
The fist slammed into the sole of Don't's foot as he kicked out. The force was immense, sending both men back several paces. Don rotated his ankle, his suspicion now solidified into absolute certainty.
This was not Blaidd. Even if the strength was superior to his own, it was nowhere near the power that could cleave several men in two with one swing. However, the agility was incredible—it reminded him of a shinobi.
The Wolf rose slowly, shouldering the greatsword. "Why seek my life?"
"You have the gall to ask?" Don performed a sliding dash, trailing his blade behind him. He let out a roar: "Because you're competing with me for Ranni!"
Vertical slashes, horizontal sweeps, diagonal thrusts—the blade-light descended like a hurricane. The Wolf retreated continuously, using nimble footwork to evade the edge. Were it not for the wolf-mask, his face would have been a mask of sheer, bewildered exasperation.
A melodramatic romantic dispute?
He knew Ranni's status in Caria and knew Blaidd was her most loyal shadow. This looked like two dogs fighting for a master's favor. Suddenly, he had an idea.
This man's skill is mediocre. I'll capture him, lure the target out, and then strike!
He glanced toward the cliffs on the right, seeing a dozen grappling hooks and ropes. An invisible wave of mental energy transmitted a message.
Lady Alecto, the plan has changed.
In an instant, Don saw the Wolf—who had just dodged a dozen strikes—stop in his tracks. A heartbeat later, the impostor pounced.
"Is that all? Come then—tell thy tale before Her Highness!"
The impostor moved with incredible speed, seizing the "moral high ground" of the act. Don didn't think; he raised his blade across his chest.
CLANG!
The greatsword slammed into him like a wooden plank, sending him skidding back several meters. His footwork appeared frantic. Borrowing the momentum, Don toppled backward, seeing the blade whistle just past the tip of his nose.
The Wolf saw the swordsman roll, push off the ground with his hands, and perform a backflip, throwing several daggers mid-air.
Ting-ting-ting...
Sparks flew from the greatsword as it acted as a shield. The impostor's lips curled, revealing sharp fangs.
A fellow traveler of the arts? Good technique, but too weak!
Almost the moment Don touched the ground, the Wolf lunged like a tiger. A low-sweeping strike forced Don to jump. There were no flashy moves; the assassin put his shoulder into the charge, slamming directly into Don't's chest.
THUD—BOOM!
Don was sent flying, crashing through a dilapidated greenhouse. It took him a long time to crawl out, wiping blood from his forehead.
"Gimme your best shot!"
Compared to the heavy-handed knights, this attacker was a far more dangerous counter to Don. His physical stats were superior, and his technique was high-level.
With all this noise, are you really still asleep? Don glanced toward the magic tower a few hundred meters away, his eyes locked onto the advancing Wolf.
"Surrender. I shall ask Her Highness to spare thy life."
Don wiped the blood from his brow and offered a victor's smile. "Pointless. Ranni and I have already pledged our lives to each other. Even if you kill me, her heart belongs to me!"
Huh?
Whether the "Blaidd" was real or fake, the statement was so shocking it caused him to pause. In that moment, several bricks flew at his face.
Smash!
The greatsword reduced the bricks to powder, creating a dust cloud that acted as a smokescreen.
Damn. I got distracted.
In this high-speed battle, he had let his focus slip twice. His eyes widened as the floating dust suddenly crystallized into ice.
Frostblade Slash!
Don't's blade swept through, freezing everything within the arc of the frost. The diagonal strike slammed into the earth, erupting into a flower of jagged ice.
The Wolf's ankle was frozen to the spot. He didn't panic, swinging his sword in a retaliatory arc. Just as the blade was about to connect, the man vanished.
Bloodhound Step!
Prepared for the move, Don appeared at the flank. He dodged the first swing, crouched to avoid the spinning horizontal follow-up, and then sprang upward through a rain of severed hair.
Power rose from his feet, through his waist, and into his arms as he drove the blade home—
Head-Cracker!
Man and blade as one, the edge pierced through the gap in the guard, heading straight for the Wolf's jaw.
But the impostor threw his head back in time. Even with the cold steel inches away, he didn't flinch. Instead, he released his greatsword, stepped forward with his unfrozen left foot, and locked Don in a crushing embrace before the swordsman could retreat.
"Caught thee!"
They were pinned together. Don felt a pair of iron arms crushing his waist, his ribs groaning under the pressure. The stench of wet fur was overwhelming. His blade was pointed toward the sky, unable to hit anything but air.
At this range, no technique existed. Yet, in that instant, Don's grin widened.
"I won my bet. You really did want to take me alive as bait, didn't you?"
!?
The Wolf's eyes widened in horror. A complex magic sigil manifested in the air, and a glowing orb floated above them.
This was...
"Magic Downpour."
The orb rose and shattered into a rain of crystals, expanding in the Wolf's vision. Simultaneously, Don released his hilt, tucked his arms in, and curled his entire body into the shelter of the Wolf's massive frame.
The impostor instinctively tried to dive away, but the ice on his leg reminded him of the trap. He let out a sharp, feminine shriek of fury:
"Thou darest play me!?"