The two remaining assassins turned a deaf ear to Aoi’s warning.
Trained in the absolute fanaticism of the Vatican, their fear lasted only a blink of an eye before transforming into blind rage.
“For the glory of the Creator!” screamed the one who appeared to be the leader, hurling three throwing daggers imbued with purifying fire while the other executed a flank maneuver at blinding speed.
“Wind Vector: Reversal Shield,” Haruto murmured.
With a precise arc of his short sword through the air, Haruto generated a concentric barrier of dense mana.
The daggers didn’t just slam into the blast of air; they were deflected at a sharp ninety-degree angle, embedding themselves with a clatter into the trunk of a nearby tree and exploding into golden flames.
At the exact same time, Aoi had already predicted the second assassin’s trajectory.
Instead of swinging her greatsword with a wide strike that could get bogged down in the marsh mud, she released her left hand from the hilt and unleashed a direct punch loaded with her crimson aura.
The impact of Aoi’s fist against the enforcer’s leather mask created a seismic shockwave.
The mask shattered to pieces, and the man was dragged through the mud for more than ten meters, rendered completely unconscious.
The leader of the Crows, finding himself entirely alone with his three companions down in under a minute, grit his teeth.
He pulled a small communication crystal from his robe and crushed it in his fist.
“The…
the coordinates of the anomalies have already been sent to the Inquisition’s Third Division…” the assassin spat, stepping backward as the mist began to swallow his figure once more.
“Commander Gerald is on his way.
You won’t leave this marsh alive…” Before Haruto could close the distance to silence him, the man slammed an alchemical smoke bomb onto the ground and vanished among the trees.
Silence reclaimed the Valley of Dampness, broken only by the crackle of the golden flames on the distant tree and the heavy breathing of the two youths.
Haruto sheathed his short sword and walked over to Aoi, quickly checking her with his eyes for any injuries.
“Are you alright?” “Just a little singed from the heat of the impact, nothing serious,” Aoi replied, kicking the mud off her boots in annoyance.
“But you heard that guy.
Someone named Commander Gerald is heading this way.
If those Crows were just the scouts, the elite troops are going to be a lot heavier.” “Gerald…” Haruto narrowed his eyes, recalling the records he had skimmed in the Sacred Capital’s library.
“He’s the leader of the Third Division.
A Tier 5 holy fire magic user and a high-level swordsman.
We can’t afford to fight him in open ground, especially not in a marsh that limits our mobility.” “Then we need to hurry toward the Ruins of Aethelgard,” Aoi said, resting her greatsword over her shoulder and looking up at the shadowy mountain range towering in the distance through the clouds.
“If we reach the catacombs of the First Kings before they do, we can use the terrain to strangle whoever comes looking for us.” Haruto nodded, extending his hand to Aoi to help her across a patch of deep mud.
“Quick meal and a ten-minute rest once we find solid ground.
After that, a forced march.” “Deal,” Aoi smiled, taking his hand firmly.
“I’m not letting some guy with a Commander title ruin our plan to become immortal.”