The fear on the captain’s face showed for only an instant in the moonlight before darkness swallowed it again. He stumbled forward and reached out with his other, unharmed hand, trying to pick up the silver knife lying within arm’s reach.
But before he could bend down, Roy grabbed his reaching wrist with her blood-soaked hand and raised her left hand to shield her eyes.
A soft *thup*.
In an instant, a small black dagger pierced her palm and shot toward the captain’s dark-gold pupil. The blade was too short, and the hand in its way slowed it down; at last, the deadly knife stopped half an inch from Roy’s eye, unable to go any farther.
That nearly negligible distance became the dividing line between Heaven and Hell.
Roy gave the captain no chance to fight back. She cleanly crushed the wrist in her grip, then drove a hard kick into his stomach, sending the burly soldier flying several meters. He slammed onto the hard stone outside the attic and could no longer get back up.
“The Great Captain once told me that the rats crawling out of that hole are all heartless freaks. They’re incapable of feelings like fear or pity. And if they do show any, they’re faking it.”
Roy pulled the black dagger from her pierced palm without a change in expression, as though she couldn’t feel the slightest pain. She walked toward the captain, who was still struggling but couldn’t rise. Each step fell like a beat in a funeral dirge, sinister and terrifying.
“You have no scent. Are you an assassin from the Black Crow Society?”
As those footsteps struck at his heart, and the Devil’s question came like a murmur in a dream, the captain finally stopped struggling. He tilted his head back just enough to see the approaching figure and drew a few ragged breaths. “Who… are you?”
Anyone connected to the Great Captain, a man as imposing as a mountain, was bound to be no ordinary person. That warning stood at the very top of the Black Crow Society’s rules for its operatives.
In the eyes of the Black Crow Society’s founder, if the Great Captain of the South Sea Archipelago ever developed a hunger for power and territory, he would become a ruler even more terrifying than the Emperor of the Empire.
Ignoring the captain’s question, Roy continued her deduction. “No, that’s not right. You’re not an assassin. If you were one of those killing machines who like to coat their daggers in poison, I wouldn’t still be standing here talking to you. Besides, how could a mere killer do a good job as a military plant?”
“Am I right, Executor?”
The girl stopped beside him, so the captain no longer had to strain to look up. His head sank limply to the ground, and a faint smile—impossible to read—appeared on his face. “You’ve guessed well. It seems you know a great deal about our Black Crow Society, milady.”
“Of course. You dangerous rats are the sort you can never be too cautious around.” Roy knelt beside the captain and leaned over his pale face, where beads of sweat kept rolling down from the pain. In a low voice, she asked, “Then may I ask your codename?”
The Black Crow Society was a fairly loose organization, but its hierarchy was as strict and meticulous as that of the Orlan Empire. Aside from its outside allies, the Society had four ranks: Scout, Assassin, Executor, and Elder.
As their names suggest, Scouts and Assassins served as the eyes and blades of this vast organization, keeping watch on—or eliminating—those the Society deemed its enemies.
The Executors, meanwhile, formed the Black Crow Society’s true power structure. Every one of them possessed exceptional ability in some field. Even now, the Society had only a handful of Executors—eight in all—and its mysterious founder had given each a codename that closely matched their abilities.
The captain before her had admitted to being an Executor, which meant he had a codename. Roy wanted to know which great figure of the Black Crow Society had planned tonight’s assassination, only to end up in her hands.
“Manticore,” the captain said calmly, making no attempt to hide it.
Roy’s eyes narrowed slightly. It seemed he understood the situation as well as she did. Now that he was in her hands, there was no chance at all of escaping this fortress, surrounded by soldiers.
What she hadn’t expected was that the captain before her was Manticore, ranked third among the Black Crow Society’s Executors.
A manticore was a mythical monster with the stealth of a bat, the venomous cunning of a scorpion, and the brute strength of a lion. It described the captain’s patience and restraint in infiltrating the military—and his combat prowess, far beyond that of an ordinary soldier—with uncanny precision.
The fact that he could thrust a deadly dagger with a hand whose bones were already fractured spoke volumes about the captain’s willpower.
If she hadn’t been by Kain’s side, someone this lethal could easily have killed an officer with little ability to defend himself, then slipped away under cover of darkness. But unfortunately for him…
“I have to admit, your timing and method were close to perfect. If I weren’t here tonight, your plan might really have been flawless.” Roy lowered her head slightly. Her voice held not a trace of emotion.
“But I still have one question. Even with a plan this perfect, someone as calculating as one of you Executors would never carry it out in person. So why? Why risk exposing your identity to kill us yourself?”
“It’s simple, actually. If one of the organization’s Assassins made a move, they’d inevitably alert the Imperial military. But I’m different. I… no, Captain Leicester had the perfect excuse to betray them, because he himself… was from the Federation.” The captain coughed a few times and spoke calmly, as if the person he was talking about weren’t himself.
“I see. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity.”
Roy asked nothing more. She knew he wouldn’t reveal any other secrets. What he’d told her so far was nothing but old history that no longer mattered.
Long ago, there had been a soldier named Leicester on Fran Island. With the Federation pouring countless resources and connections into the effort, he had passed one inspection after another and finally infiltrated the Imperial military as a spy. He’d thought he could send Orlan’s most classified information back to the Federation, never realizing that he would first become prey to a third party.
After a bit of switching places and identities, the spy from the Federation disappeared. In his place stood a Black Crow Society Executor named Manticore.
Over decades of military service, Manticore had risen to the rank of captain, becoming the Black Crow Society’s most lethal sword of Damocles within the Imperial military.
No one knew how many top-secret military reports this Executor had sent to the Black Crow Society over those long years, or how much damage he had caused the Empire. Perhaps the fire that broke out on Fran Island more than a decade ago had been his doing.
Having pieced it all together, Roy raised the dagger and thrust it straight toward the captain’s chest—but a voice calling out to her stopped her midway.
“Wait, Captain.”
