"Argh! Damn it—! Fortunately, my vital areas weren't completely hit. I can still escape in this condition."
Ramon was running toward the only door above—the sole exit from this place. He was certain of it. His condition was terrible, but he knew exactly where he needed to go in order to recover.
His fight with Miguel had severely damaged him. He never expected things to deteriorate to this extent. He had narrowly escaped death. The people of the Raven Bloodline were not re novices—they were strong, and among them were Scar bearers. Of course. They were backed by the palace.
Lost in tangled thoughts and overwheld by his body's desperate need for treatnt, sothing suddenly caught him off guard.
Huh…? But how?
Ramon reached the path leading to the grand hall—only to encounter sothing blocking the way.
Massive debris.
The path was sealed off.
Sothing clicked in his mind.
The vibrations I heard earlier… Could it have been that person? Did he do this so as to leave us no escape? But… are the Ravenline truly that insane? Does he not understand the consequences of such an action? The black market—the entire underworld—would hunt them down if they heard of this…
Unless—
His thoughts scattered.
Is the Ravenline supported by the king himself? But isn't that—
Footsteps interrupted his thinking.
Calm, unhurried footsteps approaching from behind.
Ramon fell completely silent. He assud it was the man he had fought earlier… but didn't he kill him? He should be dead!
Fine. Then I'll surprise him with a sneak attack this ti. He must be exhausted. He won't even be able to react—
As Ramon prepared himself, sothing urged him not to act until he saw it with his own eyes.
His vision gradually cleared—and the shock was imdiate.
Wait. It's not him. Who is this—? Ah—ah—no—! It's… it's him…!
He forced himself to calm down.
Calm down, Ramon. Don't panic. Nothing will happen. He doesn't know you're here.
Ramon stared at the approaching figure. He was holding a torch in his hand. A smile curved his lips—a aningless, wicked smile with no clear reason behind it.
And that was what planted terror deep in Ramon's heart.
Did he… discover ?
Doubt crept in, born of fear.
Ramon noticed the man was holding sothing else besides the torch—a tin bucket. Nearby, a rat was trying to flee.
A tallic clanging echoed through the dark corridor.
The man trapped the rat, covering it with the bucket, then flipped it over and casually sat on it as if it were a chair.
He pointed the torch toward the debris.
Ramon could have sworn he was pointing directly at him.
Fear gripped him. His body trembled, yet the pain never left.
A cold, calm voice drowned out the pounding of his heart.
Ramon felt pure terror—as though he had encountered a ghost deep within a dark cavern.
If only that were the case.
"You did once. There won't be a second ti.
If I may say… mmh… you piqued my interest. I never thought such a thing could exist—until you people fought.
No. If I'm to be more precise… it was only after I saw it with my own eyes, wasn't it?
Ramon Roccuzzo… or should I say, Ratmon Roccuzzo?"
Ramon froze in shock.
He knows. He knows.
He was being watched.
It was over—either he fights and sohow win again… or he dies and lose.
But how could he win? How could he face this man—the very one he had fled from in fear?
As for Cyn, he aid his torch at the area near the rubble, directing it toward a slightly oversized rat.
That was the trick Ramon had used to escape him at that crossroads.
When Cyn sensed Ramon rushing toward him and striking—only for the blow to vanish into thin air—Ramon had already slipped past him in the form of a tiny rat.
A full-grown human reduced to a small rodent.
It was difficult for Cyn to believe.
But he had seen it with his own eyes earlier, right after Ramon finished fighting Miguel and fled.
And now, right before him, Ramon transford from a rat back into his human form.
"Hah!"
Ramon lunged at Cyn in a surprise attack—but he was weak. Far too weak.
With a single punch, Cyn sent him flying straight into the pile of debris blocking the passage.
When fighting proved futile, the mont for begging arrived.
Ramon groaned in agony and chose to plead instead of resist.
"Please—ugh—ugh—don't kill ! I can be useful to you! You saw , didn't you? I—I'm strong! Don't kill for nothing! I can be useful—my life is still—"
Cyn silenced him calmly.
"Shhh. No talking."
Ramon felt his skin crawl.
The faint torchlight reflecting off Cyn's face terrified him.
Thoughts flooded his mind.
What will happen to now? What will he do? The fear of death—
Ramon nearly soiled himself. He could no longer move. The transformation had drained him completely.
Bang!
"Argh!"
Cyn crushed him underfoot.
Ramon scread in pain as heavy stones pinned him down, crushing his limbs—as if squeezing oil from him, like an old-fashioned olive press.
Ramon knew that if he didn't speak now, he would die.
And not a quick death.
He knew exactly what Cyn intended to do.
Slow torture.
"Ugh—! I swear I'll tell you everything! Believe ! The strongholds we have here in the capital—we have—have taverns in the southern district, and so betting offices in—"
Cyn looked utterly uninterested.
Ramon deliberately avoided ntioning precise locations, hoping to secure his life—but Cyn's indifferent expression shattered him.
Was he really going to betray the Raging Floods?
Yes. He would.
Joining the Ravenline is the best deal. I'll sacrifice everything.
Ramon began begging again.
"Please! Don't kill ! Just listen—I'll give you all the information about the Raging Floods! I want to join you! I want to be part of your Ravenline guild! Just accept —please don't kill !
Take as your subordinate! I'll do anything for you! I don't want to die—not like this!
I'm a strategist. I'm strong. You saw , didn't you? You saw my strength!
Hah—! You didn't even join the fight! You liked my style, didn't you? My services will be useful—they'll strengthen the Ravenline—!"
His rapid words, his desperate pleas, his attempts to logically sell himself to Cyn—all were t with a single cold sentence.
Despite everything he was willing to offer—the intelligence on the Raging Floods—Ramon was not wrong about himself.
He was clever. Cunning. Strong.
Soone like him was difficult to find and recruit.
Even among the Raging Floods, he was elite.
Number Four.
Cyn's cold voice echoed as he stared into the torch's fla, its light dancing across his face.
"You're a rat. You can never be a raven."
Ramon croaked from deep within his throat.
"Hah…?"
The world spun around him. Dizziness overwheld him.
"Why…?" Tears stread from his eyes. "Why is this happening? I refuse to accept this! Why must you be so cruel?! Didn't you hear ? I said I—"
Sob. Sob. Sob.
Tears poured down his face like waterfalls.
He had long forgotten the pain—he had been fighting for his life all this ti.
And now, everything was lost.
Rejected.
All he had endured. All the terror. His entire life—ending aninglessly like this.
At the very least, Cyn could have taken him—made him a slave. He would have been useful.
Ramon finally understood the pleas of those he himself had killed in past years.
They had said the sa things.
He had found them useless.
Was the sa judgnt being passed on him now?
Was Cyn seeing him as worthless?
Was that why he wanted to kill him?
Cyn's voice dragged him back to reality.
From Ramon's perspective, Cyn had two faces.
One like a priest, calmly reminding him of his execution and urging him to seek forgiveness.
The other—the executioner, cutting the guillotine's rope to sever his neck.
"Uhh. Ti's up, buddy."
Reviews
All reviews (0)