Chapter 48: How to Deal with an Assassin (3)
“Ugh…”
Oho let out a groan and woke up from a terrible nightmare.
Nightmares were familiar to assassins.
How many in this line of work didn’t have them?
So usually, they didn’t even consider them nightmares—they were just another part of daily life.
But this was different.
A tornting dream where he ran without rest to escape the back of an infinite serpent.
And every ti he turned his head, the Red Bear mocked him, drinking.
When he finally escaped that surreal and incomprehensible fear, Oho realized it hadn’t been just a simple dream.
Hindir sat across from him, eyes gently closed in ditation, and behind him, a giant snake coiled upon the cliffside.
Realizing the reality belatedly, Oho struggled to understand what to make of this situation.
Should he launch a surprise attack on the man with closed eyes?
But then what?
“Even at a closer distance than this, your attack failed. Don’t hasten your death with pointless regrets.”
Hindir, reading his instinct for gauging distance, gave the warning first.
“……”
With his move seen through, the aning of a surprise attack was lost.
So should he just wait here and be tortured?
“…Do you think I’ll talk?”
“I never asked you to talk, yet you’ve already opened your mouth.”
“……”
The childish wordplay unfitting for the situation stunned Oho for a mont.
“…Kill .”
That was all he could muster, trying to preserve a shred of pride.
“Why not just kill yourself with that poison tucked in your mouth?”
“……”
“You won’t, will you? Your pride wouldn’t allow it. You’d rather survive and tornt by making tremble every night in fear. Isn’t that right?”
Hindir, who had dealt with assassins more than anyone, knew well.
The biggest reason he had trained to stay alert for nights on end was precisely because of assassins.
“Answer the question I asked earlier. Among assassins, where do you rank?”
Oho didn’t answer.
He couldn’t grasp the intent behind the question, and even if he did…
“You seem like a lower rank.”
“…First class.”
Oho blurted out the answer without realizing it.
Hindir grinned upon hearing it.
“The lower the number, the weaker, right?”
“…There’s only special class above first.”
“For soone pretending to be tight-lipped, you sure have a lot of pride in your skills.”
Hindir, staring intently at Oho, turned his head away.
“There’s always been one mindset I’ve had when dealing with assassins.”
He spoke calmly.
“Instead of trying to catch a single bee flying toward , it’s better to burn the hive. One by one, I burned countless hives. Eventually, no more bees ca looking for .”
To Oho, it sounded like the ravings of a madman.
No matter how he looked, Hindir didn’t seem old enough to have lived through all that, and if it were true, the rumors would have spread long ago.
“There’s even a saying that ca from that. Assassins are drinking buddies of Charun warriors. You know what that ans? When an assassin ets a Charun warrior at night, the only way to survive is to drink with him. Even the mighty Rascal put aside vengeance with a drink instead of fighting.”
“……”
Madman.
Continuing to spout incomprehensible nonsense—there was no way this man was normal.
And Rascal?
He was a mythical assassin, revered as the Assassin Emperor, a legendary figure from five hundred years ago.
Of course, none dared speak of the “Emperor of Assassins” aloud, which only made his na all the more sacred.
Now this barbarian was casually throwing that na around, and Oho’s fingers twitched repeatedly.
“If you’d tried to kill the one who acted as bait for , you would have died on the spot. But you didn’t. That’s why you’re alive now and have a chance. Maybe you’re still more reasonable than the assassins of old.”
Oho unconsciously held his breath as he looked into Hindir’s eyes, glowing with icy madness in the dark.
“I’ll give you a chance. Bring a written oath stating you won’t accept any more contracts related to Charun. If you do, I’ll let this incident slide.”
“…You’re insane.”
“You’re right. You’ve figured it out. Since you’ve ssed with a madman, you’ll all have to pay the price.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I don’t care. I’ll still let you go. Go and spread the word about this lunatic far and wide. Mock , scorn , and make sure no assassin in the world doesn’t know my na.”
“……”
“After that, I’ll co find all of you. And I’ll show the world what it ans to cross a Charun warrior. I’ll make sure even a single burning hive will be enough to make all the bees understand and fear. Got it?”
Crushed by the madness in Hindir’s gaze, Oho was overwheld.
“Charun Warrior Hindir. Great Warrior Hindir. Drinking buddy of the assassins. Rember that.”
With those final words, Hindir turned away and took a drink.
The knife-sharp wind slicing through Snow Dragon Valley let out a wailing sound, and it sounded just like Hindir’s laughter.
At that mont, Oho wondered if it wouldn’t be better to die right here.
Assassins were always ready to die—and Oho was no different.
But in front of Hindir, even death by his own hand seed impossible.
Oho’s spirit had already been completely broken by Hindir, and all he wanted now was to escape this place, no matter what.
The next day, Hindir returned to Dragon‑Blessed Gate with Oho.
With a half-vacant expression, Oho reverted to a porter as the rchants left.
“Was it really okay to let him go like that? Without asking who’s behind him or where he belongs?”
Ubol asked, clicking his tongue.
“I’m curious too. What are you thinking?”
Bagman also looked puzzled.
Hindir led the two of them to the Warrior’s Restaurant.
There, they sat with Moritz, who was already eating, and began their conversation.
“He was properly trained. No point trying to dig for information—he’s not the kind to open his mouth.”
If he’d been a weakling, he would’ve spilled everything after fainting last night.
But Oho had held onto his pride even after collapsing, threatening with his life instead.
Even if deep down he didn’t want to die, the fact that he didn’t yield mattered.
“Torture might work.”
At Ubol’s suggestion, Hindir shook his head.
“As a warrior, that’s not sothing I can accept. If I intended to kill him, I should’ve done it right away.”
“There you go again with that warrior crap…”
“And if we deal with that guy, the next assassin will co. Then another, and another—assassins will keep coming without rest. I don’t believe we’ll be able to respond properly every ti, especially as they get more ticulous and vicious with each attempt.”
“That’s true, but won’t it be the sa if you let him go?”
“I told him to bring a written oath promising not to target this place.”
“…What?”
Everyone was shocked.
They knew Hindir sotis acted unpredictably, but for the man who had just warned them about the danger of assassins to pull such a reckless stunt—it was astonishing.
“This guy’s crazy, isn’t he?”
Ubol let out a dry laugh.
Bagman’s face hardened as well, and as for Moritz… her thoughts were unreadable.
“I don’t expect him to actually do it.”
“Then what’s the point?”
Ubol asked.
“I just sent a ssage to the assassin group. And I have to act separately, before the plots targeting —and this place—multiply. I intend to cut off the assassins' movents at the root.”
Everyone understood what that ant.
But they also thought it was absurd.
It was practically a declaration of war against every assassin organization.
Hindir turned to Bagman and asked:
“Bagman. Do you know anything about the assassin organizations?”
“No. Embarrassing as it is, I’ve never given assassins much thought.”
Even during the Snowy King’s reign, he hadn’t suffered much at the hands of assassins, so he shook his head.
There had been ambushes, but never by real assassins—just clumsy surprise attacks from thugs who happened to be decent with a blade.
“Assassins might seem like reckless mad dogs who’ll kill for money, but in truth, they’re so of the most cowardly people around. The mont their survival feels threatened, they beco extrely passive—abandoning even their precious pride just to survive. The longer they’ve survived, the more pronounced that tendency becos.”
“So you’re planning to use the ones who ca here as an example?”
“That’s right.”
“But didn’t you release him without asking a single question?”
“Assassin groups are essentially sects. They receive the sa education and training and are shaped into weapons.”
Hindir had observed the assassin’s swordsmanship the previous night, as well as his lightfoot technique in Snow Dragon Valley.
More than anything else, those were the most definitive clues.
“So I plan to investigate through the Parno family. They’re a family that’s done business across the continent—their intelligence network shouldn’t be too shabby. And in this land, there’s really no other alternative besides Parno.”
“…?”
Just as people began to feel slightly persuaded, their understanding reset to zero.
“Uh… you rember you killed the Parno Family Head and I killed the Lesser Branch Head, right? Did you fall off a cliff yesterday or sothing?”
Ubol asked, concerned.
“You think it might’ve been the Parno family who commissioned the hit, and now you want to talk to them?”
Bagman, also confused, asked.
“It wasn’t Parno.”
“It wasn’t? Did he say that?”
“No, but if I had to give a reason, I’d say it’s because it’s not very… noble.”
“Not noble?”
“The pride of nobles is beyond what common people can even imagine. We dealt a huge blow to their pride—they wouldn’t resort to assassins to finish us off. They’d want to do it with their own hands. Of course, there are those who use any ans necessary, but at least not Parno.”
Even if Parno had beco corrupt and fallen, Hindir had confird their innate arrogance was intact.
“And think about it. We took down the Family Head, said to be their strongest. If soone wanted to assassinate such a strong foe, would they really do it this sloppily?”
“Hmm… That’s true.”
Bagman nodded, sowhat convinced.
Hindir continued.
“Just because the Family Head died doesn’t an the family is finished. If they still have pride, they’ll want revenge. And if that’s the case, they wouldn’t want to die off aninglessly or just disappear.”
“…So you’re going to walk into the wolf’s den yourself.”
At that mont, Bagman saw Hindir in a new light.
How could this insight and boldness belong to a nineteen-year-old?
He had always known Hindir was daring.
But he had assud it was just confidence born from skill. It wasn’t.
This man was born to be the Great Warrior.
“If what you say is true, then yes—if we think about the future of Dragon‑Blessed Gate, the imdiate threat is Parno. Even if we don’t directly fight them, now that we’ve crossed them, it’s a fact that life here will beco increasingly difficult.”
Bagman continued.
“If war breaks out with Parno, I believe we can hold them off, even if it cos with sacrifices. But now that assassins with unknown backers have appeared, that possibility is in jeopardy.”
“Exactly. They’re unpleasant bastards, but assassins are an asymtric force on the battlefield, just like mages. The situation has changed.”
“We suppress the war in advance and punish the interlopers.”
Bagman nodded quietly.
“And if things can’t be resolved peacefully with Parno?”
“That’s why I’m going myself. To see if they’re capable of negotiation, or if they’ll flip their lids and charge on sight. If they fail to assess the situation and co at , then the owner of the Great Snowfields will change.”
“Heh… You’re insane. And if you die?”
“Then that just ans I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Pfft… Hahaha!”
Bagman couldn’t hold back his laughter at Hindir’s reply.
He felt it clearly.
He would never die.
“Yes, this is why I once knelt before you. This uncontrollable courage… Fine. I will trust in the Great Warrior and wait.”
At Bagman’s words, Ubol furrowed his brows in confusion.
“What the hell? What exactly convinced you?”
“Tsk. Ubol. You’re still far from becoming a warrior.”
“Shit, what the hell does that an?”
Ubol turned to Moritz with a frustrated look, but she simply nodded lightly with a calm expression.
“Mmm. There are things only warriors understand.”
Even Duar quietly chid in with a word, and for so reason, Ubol felt his irritation boiling up.
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