"Hmm." Boka nodded. "Just as planned."

Albert and the others crawled out of the drain. Nearly ten people emerged. No one would have expected them to move in broad daylight.

Nearby guards spotted the disturbance. But before they could shout, two men slipped past and took them down. Under the cover of rain, those two crept to the entrance guards. They dispatched the last few with the same swift moves. The rest scattered immediately, scaling into the inner house to begin their mission.

The two men then dragged the guards into the bushes. They stripped off the armor and put it on, standing guard at the entrance.

"What’s the plan?" Boka asked.

Albert and his sister had already slipped inside.

"Simple." Trena stepped in front of Boka. "Slice that old man in half."

Albert patted Boka’s shoulder. "You can lie here, pretending to be unconscious. It’ll be over soon."

"Is that so..." Boka murmured to himself.

Would it really end quickly, as Albert claimed? Boka doubted it. Because that man was here.

Two screams suddenly tore through the house. From the sound, they belonged to the infiltrators.

Albert realized things had turned. He rushed out instantly. But Trena’s expression didn’t flicker. She merely smiled faintly and followed her brother with slow, steady steps.

"Trena, are you going too?"

At least her—this girl—Boka didn’t want her doing things he’d regret seeing.

"Yes. That’s why I exist." With that, Trena vanished through the doorway.

When Albert reached the main hall, he found two of his companions dead. Their bodies lay severed—one armless, the other legless. Clean cuts misted the air with blood.

A knight stood on the stairs. Towering and broad, he stood like a stone statue. Blood dripped from his sword to the floor. The crimson-stained blade glinted with an eerie chill. Ian kept his eyes closed, his usual calm untouched by the tension. He seemed merely to breathe, as if this were utterly ordinary.

Albert drew his weapon, eyes locked on the knight.

Ian didn’t shift his stance. Yet Albert couldn’t find an opening to strike. Was this what a true master felt like? Albion’s legend... the flawless Knight-Captain. Every hair on Albert’s body stood on end. His instincts screamed danger. If he attacked, this man would slice off his head in the next instant.

"Brother, step back."

Trena had silently appeared beside Albert.

"Leave this to me. You’re no match for him."

Trena already held her rapier. Unlike Albert, frozen by the knight’s overwhelming aura, she stepped forward fearlessly. That simple move made Ian open his eyes.

"Oh, awake at last? I thought you’d keep sleeping." Trena’s faint smile remained.

"You killed Eric."

"What? Who’s Eric??"

"My student," Ian said. "A confident young man."

"Hmm..." Trena tilted her head thoughtfully. "I’ve killed so many lately. No memory of him."

"He was arrogant, but brilliant. Full of ambition."

"Oh? And?" Trena’s head tilted further.

"Why kill him?" Ian’s tone turned sharp. "With your skill, you didn’t need to go that far."

"I told you. Who’s Eric??" Trena’s face was pure innocence. "I don’t know him!"

Her words hadn’t faded when she lunged. Her rapier shot toward Ian’s throat.

Clang! Ian blocked it with his wide Greatsword.

"Oh!" Excitement lit Trena’s face. "Now that’s worthy of Albion’s famed Knight-Captain."

She pressed her rapier harder against his throat. Ian was startled—such power from her slender wrist!

Whoosh!

Ian parried her blade. Sparks flew from the grinding metal.

Albert hadn’t recovered when their swords clashed above him.

Their speed blurred to the naked eye. Blades hacked into the stair railings. Wood splinters and sparks flew wildly. Obstacles meant nothing to them. Trena’s strikes aimed for lethal points. But Ian’s Greatsword defense was impenetrable.

"Red hair..."

Ian stared at Trena’s crimson locks, soaked like blood. He recalled a northern legend. The soul-devouring girl. A demon from hell. Was this her?

Albert could only watch helplessly below. He wanted to help Trena, but there was no space for him.

His sister in battle was when Albert least wanted to interfere. Once, he’d tried stopping her bloodlust. The cost nearly cost him an arm.

And Albert knew Trena hadn’t tapped her true power yet.

When she savored the kill, growing excited, Trena turned utterly feral. Pure terror followed.

Their fight moved to the second floor. The stairs below lay shattered by their blades. The wind from their clashing swords stung Albert’s cheeks slightly.

Ian’s strength edged out Trena’s—he wielded a Greatsword no ordinary man could lift. But his speed lagged.

Trena kicked off a wall handle. She leaped, grabbed a ceiling chandelier, and stabbed down at Ian’s right eye from an impossible angle. Ian barely deflected it. Her rapier left a long gash on his forehead.

"Ha! You’re hurt!" she crowed.

Ian roared. He gripped his Greatsword with both hands and swung horizontally.

Trena was thrown back several steps, stumbling.

Ian panted heavily. Blood streamed down his handsome face, soaking half of it. He looked disheveled.

"Albion’s legendary Knight-Captain? This is all you’ve got."

Trena licked blood off her blade. A trace of an unusual smile curled her lips.

"You’re formidable," Ian said. "Few in the capital could match you."

"You’re not bad either." Trena flicked her bloodied rapier with a finger. "Only the Black Knight has lasted this long against me."

"The Black Knight... Have you seen him?"

"Yes. On the battlefield." Trena tore open her collar. "See? His mark."

A ghastly scar marred her pale chest. A slight shift would have killed her.

"He spared you."

"Hmm. Lucky me, I guess."

Ian removed his shoulder armor. "That was a mistake. I’ll correct it now."

"What? You’ll kill me? With you?!"

Thud!

The armor hit the floor with a dull thump, cracking the wooden boards. Ian kept stripping off plates. They were specially weighted—many times heavier than normal!

"Oh... Hiding your strength earlier."

"No need for that anymore."

"Well then. That’s all there is to it."

"You’re ready?"

Trena tilted her head, staring blankly at Ian. "The game’s over."

Ian raised his Greatsword again. He didn’t grasp the girl’s meaning. Nor did he care. His long-suppressed muscles surged free. His weapon felt more natural now.

But a sharp pain pierced his abdomen. Crimson liquid spilled from his lips.

"I said the game’s over. I’m bored."

The red-haired girl still smiled before him. In a flash, his mind went blank.

Killing intent. Bone-chilling, soul-freezing killing intent. It made him shiver uncontrollably.

When Ian snapped back, Trena’s rapier had already pierced his gut.

"You—cough—"

Blood choked his words as he collapsed.

"You won," Albert said.

Albert never questioned outcomes. Even with Ian’s strength and restraining armor, Trena’s horror ran deeper. Her breathing stayed steady. And when she fully embraced madness, witnesses called her a hell demon.

She was a woman who always carried the scent of blood.

"Not kill him?"

Trena didn’t answer right away. She studied the gasping Ian, then said, "This wasn’t a fair fight."

"What?" Albert didn’t understand.

"Someone interfered with him."

...

Trena picked up Ian’s Greatsword. She hesitated briefly, then hurled it with all her might!

Crack!

The Greatsword buried deep into the granite door ahead. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. The entire door shattered instantly.

"Right, Duke Clar?" Trena said.