"Are you coming to your senses?"

When Yvonne regained consciousness, a bald adventurer was looking down at her. She held her throbbing head and tried to get up. Her vision blurred again, and she was about to collapse forward when the adventurer’s hand caught her. Yvonne struggled to break free, but her attempts were easily subdued.

“No, no.”

Yvonne, her eyes unfocused, babbled incoherently as she stared at the adventurer. Blood from her forehead had dried at the corner of her eye, leaving a hideous mark.

“I have to save Lady Marion...”

“In your condition, you won’t be able to go anywhere.”

Pierre calmly advised Yvonne, who was moving her trembling hands desperately. Even then, the knight fought hard to get away from Pierre’s grip.

“The lady...!”

“First, calm down and listen to me.”

A vein bulged on Pierre's forehead. Yvonne gritted her teeth, and blood began to seep from her lips. Her vacant eyes were slowly regaining focus. Pierre inwardly clicked his tongue at the crude method.

“The lady has been kidnapped! I have to go and rescue her!”

“Damn it, there’s already someone who lost his mind and ran after her like a mad dog. I know you’re coming to your senses, but the best course of action would be to head to the city gates and block their escape.”

Pierre’s words began to assemble in Yvonne’s foggy mind. Her confused expression lingered as she tried to grasp his meaning.

“What do you mean... someone ran after them? Who?”

Pierre was looking down the sloping road where the adventurer had already taken off in pursuit of the carriage.

“One of the adventurers is already chasing the carriage that most likely has the lady. It’s probably too far ahead by now, so you should take a shortcut to the gates and cut off their escape.”

“One adventurer... that’s not enough. I’ll chase after them; you go inform the guards.”

Yvonne gritted her teeth as she stood up, but Pierre sighed deeply.

“You’re the knight of this region; the guards won’t listen to me as easily as they will to you. And that adventurer…”

Pierre narrowed his eyes at Yvonne.

“He’s much faster and stronger than you think.”

==

Maxim had already locked onto the fleeing targets.

There were two carriages. Each took a different route, speeding down the narrow alleys of Myura. Though they were moving quickly, it wasn’t at an all-out sprint—they maintained a speed that wouldn’t draw too much attention, trying to slip away unnoticed.

They were probably planning to merge with other carriages on the main road or head toward a hidden location.

Maxim stood atop the highest building in Myura, the church’s clock tower, his sharp gaze tracking the two carriages. His dark eyes gleamed fiercely, catching the afternoon sunlight as if reflecting a red glow.

Mana surged through Maxim’s legs. The ground beneath his feet cracked as the concentrated force was released. He didn’t hesitate to make his decision.

He wouldn’t let either of them escape.

Boom!

The sound was like a cannon being fired from the church’s bell tower. The force of Maxim’s leap shook the tower, causing the church’s massive bell to sway and let out a deep, unexpected chime, as if announcing the time.

Ding—ding—diing...

The ringing quickly faded into the distance as Maxim shot through the air like an arrow. In just one leap, the distance between Maxim and the two carriages had shrunk. He aimed for the building that stood in the middle of the road where the two carriages had split. The wind howled like a blade around him—or more accurately, Maxim himself was the blade cutting through the wind.

The moment of his landing felt as if time itself slowed, soft and stable. But in the next instant, Maxim’s second leap shattered the illusion, propelling him forward with unstoppable force.

Boom!

The roof under Maxim’s feet crumbled as he surged forward. His mind instantly mapped out his trajectory, and without hesitation, he sped across the rooftops of Myura. His eyes never left the two carriages, now drawing closer.

Clatter!

The one-eyed driver sitting in the front seat of the left carriage tilted his head in confusion. Though they were racing down a well-paved road, the carriage rattled ominously.

“What’s going on?”

They weren’t carrying any hostages. Though they were moving quickly down the slope, the speed wasn’t so fast as to cause undue strain on the carriage. That left only one assumption—the carriage itself had some sort of issue, which would be a serious problem.

“The horses seem a bit agitated too...”

Maybe I should slow down.

As the spy was mulling this over, a small gust of wind suddenly blew from behind, as if moving in the same direction as the carriage, brushing against the spy’s back.

“What the... What wind is this?”

The spy turned to look back and froze. In the distance, silhouetted against the sun, something black was flying toward him. It couldn’t be. No way. It had to be a trick of his tired eyes.

But no—whatever it was, it was getting closer. His hands, gripping the reins, began to tremble involuntarily as the realization hit him. His mind raced through countless possibilities, but there was only one conclusion he could reach.

It’s him.

He didn’t know why, but that monster had reappeared at this crucial moment, and now it was chasing after the carriage. The black figure seemed to glide through the air like a shadow, moving at an impossibly fast speed. Within minutes—no, within seconds—they’d be caught.

Torn between the desire to flee and the need to complete the mission, the spy’s decision was painfully simple.

“Shit!”

With a curse, he cracked the reins, urging the horses to gallop faster. Please, don’t let him catch up. Run.

Thankfully, the horses didn’t stumble and ran at full speed. The carriage rattled violently, bouncing the spy into the air several times, but he didn’t care. How many more steps until they caught up? Was it too late?

Boom.

There was an explosive sound. The presence was growing nearer. Faster than anything in the world, it was closing in. The spy’s face turned pale, his heart pounding in his chest, feeling foreign and unfamiliar to him.

Switching the reins to one hand, the spy fumbled inside his coat until his fingers brushed against something—a small whistle. This was his only chance, his only means of calling for backup. The spy knew this was his lifeline.

There were only three of them, and even that might not be enough to stop this monster. But he had to try.

The one-eyed spy clutched the bone-carved whistle between his teeth and blew as hard as he could.

==

The carriage on the left accelerated. It was now pulling far ahead of the other carriage that had been running alongside it, speeding forward to such an extent that people on the street pressed themselves to the sides in alarm.

That one’s not it.

Maxim thought, watching the sudden burst of speed. If they had a hostage on board, they wouldn’t be pushing the carriage at such a breakneck pace. If the horses tripped, it would be a disaster.

Maxim gathered strength in his legs, preparing to accelerate. Cracks spread across the ground where his feet touched. Though his speed briefly slowed, he quickly exploded forward again.

‘What’s that?’

Maxim narrowed his eyes. The driver of the speeding carriage pulled something from his coat and raised it to his mouth.

Screeeech!!

A piercing, ear-splitting sound reverberated through the streets of Myura, a high-pitched whistle that seemed to tear through the air, grating on Maxim’s nerves.

“What the...?”

Whoosh.

Maxim caught sight of something flying toward him. He had no time to slow down. In one swift motion, he drew his sword, slicing through the knives flying at him from both sides. As he continued running across the rooftops, he spotted figures standing ahead.

Three of them. Each holding a short sword in one hand. One of the spies muttered as they watched Maxim approach. Despite the situation, there was still a hint of arrogance in their posture. The sword resting on his shoulder swung lazily, a reflection of his nonchalance.

“Is that the guy our one-eyed friend was so scared of that he was practically wetting his pants?”

“He’s fast, I’ll give him that. But we’ll see how strong he is once we fight.”

“Shit. I had a bad feeling when they suggested changing the timeline. And now this freak shows up.”

Something was off. One of the spies furrowed his brow.

“That guy... he’s not slowing down.”

“We’ll have to stop him with our bodies. How long do you think he can last?”

The spy sneered, gripping his sword more tightly.

“I’ll go first.”

Before the others could stop him, one of the spies leapt forward. With a lightweight, agile movement, he reversed his grip on his sword, aiming to cut the approaching enemy’s throat.

The distance between them closed in ten paces.

The spy grinned viciously as he measured the gap. Three steps ahead was his range. All he had to do was let the man come within eight paces, then move three more himself, and he’d be able to drive his blade straight into the fool’s neck.

Nine, eight, seven, six.

Come on!

The spy’s hand moved so fast it was almost invisible. His sword traced a deadly arc through the air, gleaming like a viper’s fangs. It didn’t matter if the target’s neck was hidden under a hood—his blade would pierce through it, and the adventurer would die before even realizing what had happened.

Swish.

The sound of a blade cutting through cloth was clear to the spy’s ears. As always, there was no sensation in his hands as they dealt death with swift efficiency. Crimson droplets spattered through the air, scattering like raindrops.

Tch. What a coward. All this fuss over someone so pathetic.

But then, the spy’s gaze landed on an open palm. Upon closer inspection, it seemed familiar.

What the hell. Why is my hand there?

That was the spy’s last thought.

“You... you crazy—”

The man who had charged ahead was cut down. His body split in two at the waist, his arm and leg severed and spinning in the air, spraying blood everywhere.

“We should—”

Before the two remaining spies could finish their sentence and turn to flee, a blade flashed before their eyes.

When? How? What about the others?

They didn’t have time to wonder. Blood pooled on the ground. They didn’t need to check to know what had happened to the spy who had tried to flee. The crimson droplets clinging to the shining blade were all the proof they needed.

“Urgh...!”

In a flash, the sword descended like a bolt of lightning. The spy raised his short sword with both hands to block the strike but immediately regretted it. The weight pressing down on his sword was far more than he could handle. The metal screeched ominously.

“This... damn...!”

Clang.

The spy barely managed to parry the blow, but what awaited him next was a barrage of searing pain. Maxim’s hand became a blur, slicing through the air repeatedly.

“Gah!”

He wasn’t dead yet. Despite the excruciating pain of having every muscle in his limbs cut, the spy wondered why. But that question was quickly buried under another wave of agony.

Thud.

“Aargh!”

The pain was excruciating. His right shoulder was completely impaled. As he looked over, trembling, he saw that his own sword had pierced straight through his shoulder, pinning him to the roof like a nail.

“Stay put.”

The spy, panting heavily, looked up just in time to see a gloved fist flying toward him.

==

The carriage continued its descent.

The driver, no longer a spy but a knight of the Bening family, couldn’t hide his anxiety. Since blowing the whistle to call for reinforcements, there had been no further news. There had been a brief commotion, the occasional scream, and then silence.

“Damn it all...!”

He couldn’t accelerate any further. With a hostage on board, driving the carriage faster risked tipping it over. Should I head for the main road? No, that would cause too much commotion.

As the carriage sped down the slope, a shadow passed in front of it.

“Oh, shit!”

Thud.

A shadow fell in front of the carriage.

Neigh!

The horses reared up, their hooves flailing in the air, startled. The sudden movement threw the Bening knight off balance, and he tumbled from the driver’s seat, landing awkwardly on the ground.

Roll. Roll.

In front of him rolled the severed head of the one-eyed spy, his face frozen in an expression of terror.

“Don’t even bother saying the hostage isn’t here.”

The voice was cold. The Bening knight gasped and looked up. The hooded adventurer stood before him.

His black eyes, faintly illuminated by the setting sun, glowed a deep red.

“Don’t expect an easy death.”