A Disaster-Level Assassin Has Been Freed

Chapter 112: Acanthus (1)

The fairy race was a clan that lived gathered in the forests at the easternmost edge of the continent, rarer and harder to encounter than even elves. It couldn’t be helped.

Even now, with slavery abolished, there were countless people willing to pay exorbitant prices for a fairy, so they had no choice but to become increasingly reclusive.

Of course, that didn’t mean every fairy lived confined to the eastern forests. Take Vivian, for example—she was constantly traveling across the continent for her personal goal of revenge.

However, she always operated with a clone disguised as a human woman.

Her true self was perpetually cloaked in perception-disrupting magic, living a secretive life.

This had been true recently as well.

When she observed Harang’s battle with the fourth Hydra, she received information through the artificial eyes of her clone.

Even after sacrificing her clone in defeat, she never let her guard down. She cast perception-disrupting magic daily.

Admittedly, as she neared her hideout, her tension eased, and the magic faltered a few times, leading to run-ins with clueless bandits who picked fights with her… but she thought it was fine. She was already far from the Dark City Kalbaron, after all.

But then…

“When did you figure it out? At what point did you know?”

“You look like you’re asking, ‘When did you figure it out?’”

“…”

Seeing the black-haired young man read her thoughts word for word, Vivian’s expression was a mix of displeasure and fear.

It wasn’t just because he was a powerful being.

His inscrutable gaze, expression, and tone.

They reminded her of that being. Though his appearance was entirely different, Vivian couldn’t help but recall the most hateful and terrifying existence she knew.

“Why is she reacting like that?”

Seeing her frightened eyes, Harang wore a puzzled expression.

It wasn’t merely a reaction to losing their battle. He could tell instinctively.

So why was she looking at him with such eyes, such a reaction?

After a moment of thought, Harang shook his head.

That wasn’t important right now.

Choosing his words carefully, he spoke again.

“At first, I didn’t know. Even when your clone self-destructed, I had no clue… I just thought you were a ruthless person. Honestly, it baffled me. I never said a word about harming you…”

“Hey, you’re rambling. Get to the point.”

A voice suddenly cut in.

It was Zak. He glared with his single eye, pressuring his opponent, and Harang looked at him calmly.

That was all.

Without further reaction, Harang continued.

“It’s my sense of presence.”

“…Sense of presence?”

“Yes. Sensory Awakening through Aura manipulation—a hyper-sensitivity that emerges only when the five senses are pushed to their limits.”

“What?”

“To explain further, it’s as if the Aura I’ve manifested and dispersed becomes an extension of my sensory organs…”

“Damn it, what does that mean? Speak plainly!”

Zak snapped irritably.

But Harang could only shrug. He had no way to explain it more clearly.

Or rather, it wasn’t impossible.

The heightened and refined senses he’d developed while training the Eddy Family in the Commercial City Marzen—if he explained it step by step, he could make them understand.

“But this guy seems to hate long explanations…”

There was no need to elaborate further.

As he’d thought before, this wasn’t the important part.

Why had he followed Vivian?

Why had he forsaken chasing the fourth Hydra to track her here, standing now to have this conversation?

To gather information about the village.

Or about something potentially related to it.

For that, Harang was willing to take considerable risks, which was why he could stand confidently even before the one-eyed man radiating threatening presence.

Humm…

Harang raised his presence.

The one-eyed man, who had been wearing a cocky expression, looked startled.

Meeting his gaze silently, Harang continued in a serious tone.

“It started with Ms. Vivian. She was secretly spying on me as I fought the Black Hydra for personal reasons. I didn’t mind. Some might find it rude, but I just wanted to talk, brushing it aside.”

Hummm…!

“Even when she suddenly unleashed a mental attack, summoned skeleton soldiers to intimidate me, or deceived me by making her clone self-destruct… I endured, endured, and endured again. I thought it was just a misunderstanding. All I wanted was a conversation, and if I could convey that clearly, we could resolve things peacefully, each getting what we wanted… or so I thought.”

Hummmmm-!

“But you’re not listening to me this time either.”

“…”

“I’m getting a bit tired now. Do I have to resort to force, to show you just how much power I have, before you’ll apologize for your rudeness? Only then can we have the calm conversation I want?”

“You… Vivian, get over here!”

Cold sweat poured down Zak’s forehead.

It was unexpected. He’d known this guy wasn’t ordinary since hearing he’d tailed Vivian, but the presence he now exuded was beyond imagination.

He quickly grabbed Vivian’s hand, pulling her behind him, and drew his twin swords, crossing them in an X—a clear pre-battle stance.

“Haa.”

Harang sighed.

What was it?

What had he done wrong to keep ending up in situations the exact opposite of what he wanted?

Should he have thrown down his weapons and raised his hands in surrender?

But why?

He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Hm.”

His head ached.

Honestly, he was annoyed. For the first time in a while, he felt the urge to swing his sword freely and resolve everything that way.

But then.

In a space filled only with the presence of the three, the aura of others began to intrude.

Harang turned his head.

Hum.

Hummm.

“What’s going on?”

“Vivian? Not a clone, is it?”

“Who’s that black-haired kid?”

People emerged, breaking through the magical barrier.

Harang narrowed his eyes at their appearance. Their presence was as formidable as Zak’s, but their appearances were strikingly peculiar.

An elegantly dressed old man in a wheelchair, creaking as he approached.

A long-haired, one-armed woman wielding a sharp kitchen knife.

A dwarf man with a chessboard-like scar on his face, constantly cracking his knuckles.

Each one left a vivid impression, impossible to forget, and their collective presence only heightened Harang’s curiosity about what kind of group this was.

Of course.

“Hah, haha! Go on, talk big like you did before! What? You’ll use force? Show your power? Go ahead, try it! Dare to act tough in front of Sir Zak…!”

“Heh heh, that arrogant punk said that?”

“Young man, you said that?”

“His presence is impressive for his age, but that’s not something to say here.”

The current atmosphere was far from conducive to satisfying personal curiosity. The one-eyed Zak, as if he’d never been intimidated, squared his shoulders and stepped forward, while the three newcomers eyed Harang with less-than-friendly gazes.

And that wasn’t the end.

With a hum, four more figures passed through the barrier.

And this time, even Harang couldn’t help but flinch.

“…Are they even human?”

He wasn’t referring to the three men surrounding a woman like bodyguards.

Though their appearances were unusual—bare, muscular torsos covered in whip-like scars, faces hidden behind masks numbered 1, 2, and 3, their heavy breathing eerie enough to instill fear in most—ordinarily, Harang wouldn’t have been able to look away from them.

But the woman behind the three iron-masked men.

She was the issue.

Dressed in a pristine wedding dress, fit for a ceremony, every inch of her exposed skin was wrapped in bandages.

Even stranger, fresh blood seemed to drip from where her nails and eyes should have been.

“…”

She looked like someone tortured on a joyous occasion.

She walked daintily, like a noble lady, to her comrades’ side, leaving bloody footprints. Her inhuman appearance made everyone, including Zak and Vivian, shudder visibly.

Of course, Harang quickly shook off his confusion.

“There must be a reason.”

With his characteristic lack of prejudice, he dispelled his unease, scanned his surroundings, and locked eyes with the wedding-dressed woman—or rather, the bloody patches where her eyes should be.

Then he asked.

“Sorry, but I followed Ms. Vivian out of personal curiosity.”

“…”

“So, how about we talk instead of fighting?”

“You don’t seem fazed by my appearance.”

“Should I be?”

“Not necessarily, but most people are.”

“I’ve been told I’m not most people.”

“I see.”

“Right.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Uh, should I explain how I ended up here?”

Harang suggested in a polite tone.

He wasn’t scared.

But the heat in his head had been doused with cold water, that was true. The wedding-dressed woman exuded an aura impossible to ignore.

That made him curious.

Who were these people?

What purpose brought together so many powerful individuals, rarely seen, to hide in such a remote place?

Hum.

Humm-!

“There’s more?”

Harang looked toward the barrier, genuinely surprised this time.

He was already facing nine people—nine Graduate-level or higher powerhouses glaring at him with intense eyes.

Of course, he wasn’t afraid.

He might not be able to fight them all, but he was confident he could escape their pursuit.

“I’d prefer it doesn’t come to that…”

That would depend on what happened next.

As his mind swirled with thoughts, two more figures emerged from the barrier. One was a middle-aged man, the other a young man about Harang’s age.

The key point: both were people Harang knew.

“Baldy? No, Mr. Konjinyu? And…”

“Didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been a while, Harang.”

The brown-haired young man greeted him calmly, his voice tinged with slight surprise but restrained emotion.

Zeb, Godok Rank 4.

The moment he saw him, Harang realized what kind of group this was.

Acanthus.

An organization bound by rage and blood oaths, consumed by hatred for the Red Magician.