Episode 140
Zeke descended from Mount Ouroboros and headed straight for the desert region.
Boris, who was on a mission between the Rom Empire and the desert, joined him along the way.
The problem was that as Zeke made his way to the desert, the Holy Kingdom, the Rom Empire, the Scorpion Clan, and the Salmak were all hot on his trail.
Thanks to Boris’s intelligence, Zeke was already aware that the atmosphere in the desert was anything but ordinary.
After some thought, Zeke suggested to Boris that they head to the heart of Salmak.
Boris, knowing what Salmak was like, tried to dissuade Zeke, but the decision was already made.
Three days of wandering through the sandy desert later, they finally approached Salmak’s stronghold.
Of course, they were bound hand and foot, being dragged by Salmak’s assassins.
”…What exactly is your plan here, boss?”
Boris asked, glancing at Zeke, who was being dragged alongside him, as they were led by the ropes tied to the assassins’ horses.
Despite being captured and taken to Salmak’s base, Zeke’s expression was as calm as ever.
He gazed out at the endless expanse of sand.
On the surface, it seemed peaceful, but this was actually a treacherous area of sand traps.
Once caught, it was nearly impossible to escape on one’s own, so even the desert’s native inhabitants avoided it.
Yet, Salmak’s assassins navigated the sand traps with ease, winding their way through the safe paths.
Throughout the continent, there were ancient magical sites designed to deter outsiders.
The Forbidden Forest of the Forgotten was similar; one wrong step in its endless sea of trees, and you’d never find your way out.
Salmak had deliberately established their base in such a place, keeping outsiders at bay for centuries.
As they followed the assassins through the treacherous terrain, a previously invisible fortress suddenly appeared atop a sand dune.
Boris turned pale at the sight of Salmak’s legendary stronghold, which he had only heard about in stories.
Even as a former member of the Rom Empire’s intelligence agency, Salmak was a fearsome entity.
The assassins led Zeke and Boris into the fortress.
Rumble!
The fortress was so ancient that it was impossible to tell when it had been built.
Zeke scanned the fortress with his keen eyes.
Despite its worn exterior, magical energy was embedded throughout the walls.
Once inside, Zeke addressed the assassin who had brought him.
“I wish to meet the Old Man of the Mountain.”
The turbaned assassin glanced at Zeke, drew his sword, and leapt from his horse.
He pressed the blade to Zeke’s throat.
In an instant, Zeke summoned his power, snapping the ropes binding him and bending the assassin’s sword with his bare hands.
Startled, the assassin retreated and hurled throwing knives at him.
Zeke deflected them all with a wave of his hand.
Suddenly, assassins hidden throughout the fortress revealed themselves.
Shhh!
Hundreds of trained assassins surrounded Zeke and Boris, each brandishing a weapon.
All wore masks with a single eye symbol within a triangle.
Boris, too, twisted his wrists to free himself and drew his sword, tense and ready.
Zeke shouted to the assassins.
“My name is Zeke Draker! I have a message for the Old Man of the Mountain!”
The assassins remained unmoved, weapons trained on Zeke, showing no sign of response.
Zeke and the assassins stood in a tense standoff, neither side making a move.
Time passed, yet neither Zeke nor the assassins wavered.
Caught in the middle, Boris felt like he was living a nightmare.
‘Damn my luck.’
After what felt like an eternity, a figure clad in black robes and a mask emerged from within.
The mask bore the same symbol as the other assassins.
He gestured for Zeke to follow him inside.
The assassins, who had been poised to strike, vanished as if they had never been there.
The fortress, now devoid of assassins, was eerily silent.
Boris shivered at the sight, momentarily frozen.
Zeke gestured to him.
“Boris, let’s go.”
With that, Zeke and Boris followed the black-robed assassin deeper into the fortress.
Inside, the fortress was a narrow, winding maze, dark and foreboding.
It felt reminiscent of Agamemnon’s castle before its curse was lifted.
Even if enemies managed to breach the sand traps, they would likely become lost within these walls.
‘It seems deliberately designed this way.’
Zeke sensed assassins hidden throughout the narrow passages, their presence masked.
With his heightened senses, Zeke could detect them clearly, but most knights would remain oblivious.
After navigating the labyrinthine corridors and passing several rooms, they finally reached their destination.
The black-robed figure opened a door and gestured them inside.
There, on a grand throne adorned with gold and jewels, sat an elderly man.
The old man, small in stature with dark skin, wore rings on all ten fingers.
He looked at Zeke and spoke.
“So, you wished to see me.”
This was the Old Man of the Mountain, the ruler of Salmak’s assassins.
Zeke and Boris stood before one of the continent’s most enigmatic figures, known to only a handful.
Zeke stepped forward, meeting the Old Man’s gaze.
At that moment, black-robed assassins emerged from the shadows, pressing blades to Zeke’s throat.
“Enough. Stand down.”
At the Old Man’s command, the assassins vanished once more.
The Old Man addressed Zeke.
“Zeke Draker. Your name echoes across the continent.”
Zeke replied, “Let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point.”
The Old Man frowned.
“Does Draker not teach manners?”
“There’s no need for manners with those who lack them.”
“Arrogant, aren’t you? If you think being a Draker means I can’t kill you, you’re sorely mistaken. Not even your father, Arthur Draker, could escape Salmak’s blade.”
Zeke smirked.
“Care to say that to Arthur Draker’s face?”
The Old Man’s expression hardened.
He raised his hand.
Instantly, assassins sprang from the shadows, blades aimed at Zeke.
“Boss!”
Boris moved to intervene, but the guide who had led them drew his sword to block him.
Shhh!
The blades aimed at Zeke sliced through empty air.
In that moment…
“Hmm.”
Zeke had already moved to the throne, holding a dagger to the Old Man’s throat.
Boris turned pale, sweat dripping down his face.
‘Could it be that the boss came here with this in mind?’
The idea of taking Salmak’s leader hostage seemed absurd. Yet, his boss was doing just that.
Zeke, with the dagger at the Old Man’s throat, turned his head.
He addressed the assassin facing Boris.
“How about we call this a draw?”
The black-robed assassin stepped back, signaling to the others.
He slowly removed his mask.
A middle-aged man with the distinctive features of the desert region emerged.
He spoke to Zeke.
“Zeke Draker. Impressive.”
Zeke lowered his dagger, and the old man on the throne stood and stepped aside.
Zeke returned to his original position, and the unmasked man ascended the throne.
Zeke addressed the man on the throne.
“Old Man of the Mountain.”
Only then did Boris realize that the guide was the true Old Man of the Mountain.
The Old Man on the throne regarded Zeke with interest.
“How did you know I was the real one?”
“I can’t reveal that secret.”
The Old Man clapped his hands, laughing.
“Remarkable, Zeke Draker. Very well, I won’t press further. But are you aware you’re on our assassination list?”
“I had a hunch, given how persistently I’ve been followed since entering the desert.”
“Yet you came here directly. I must commend your courage.”
Zeke looked at the Old Man.
“It’s not just courage. You know that.”
The Old Man nodded.
“Indeed. It’s not every day that the Rom Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and the Scorpions all chase after one person.”
“It seems Abel didn’t tell Salmak the reason, only issued the kill order.”
The Old Man leaned back in his throne.
The atmosphere grew heavy, as if a weight had settled over the room.
Boris felt his heart race, as if he were walking on thin ice.
After a pause, Zeke spoke first.
“I want to make a deal with Salmak.”
The Old Man leaned forward again.
“A deal? Why should I make a deal with you?”
“I figured you were willing to hear me out, given that you brought me here.”
At just eighteen, the young knight was drawing the Old Man of the Mountain into his web.
Zeke continued.
“You’ve likely heard the rumors that I lifted the curse on Agamemnon’s castle and the curse on the Duke of Graham’s daughter.”
The Old Man listened silently.
Zeke continued.
“In exchange for lifting the curse on your youngest disciple, how about we strike a deal?”
At those words, the old man of the mountain leapt to his feet, a reaction unbefitting the king of assassins.
He stood there, glaring at Zeke, before finally calming himself enough to ask, “How do you know about that?”
“As I mentioned earlier, it’s a secret I can’t divulge.”
The old man’s previously composed face hardened noticeably. He was aware of Zeke’s abilities and had planned to capture him alive, hoping to use him to break the curse on his youngest disciple. But he hadn’t expected Zeke to confront him so directly, nor to be so well-informed about the highly confidential situation of his disciple.
Zeke spoke again, “I’ll lift the curse on your youngest disciple. Let’s discuss the terms of our deal afterward.”
In desperate situations, the one in need is always more anxious. Zeke understood the old man’s predicament perfectly.
‘The timing worked out in my favor,’ he thought.
Zeke had learned about the death of the old man’s youngest disciple from a curse during a mission in his past life. Back then, the old man had been betrayed by his own disciples, who had allied with the Empire to overthrow him and seize control of the assassin’s guild.
Zeke, stationed with the northern forces, had been tasked with rescuing the old man and extracting crucial information from the guild. Despite the hardships, he managed to save the old man, who was on the brink of death.
Before he died, the old man had confided in Zeke, lamenting his greatest regret: being unable to save his most beloved and talented disciple from a curse. He had poured all his affection into that disciple, but in the end, the curse claimed the young life. Devastated, the old man had withdrawn from the guild, leaving it in the hands of his disciples, only to be betrayed.
Zeke recalled the old man’s final words: “I did everything I could to save my youngest disciple, but I thought there was no way. I could have tried harder… Zeke Murray, hold my hand. I don’t want to be alone in my final moments… If that child were alive, they would have held my hand…”
With those words, the old man had passed away, a pitiful end for the king of assassins. The frail, vulnerable figure of the old man in his last moments overlapped with the one standing before Zeke now.
Breaking the silence, the old man finally spoke, “Very well. I accept your proposal, Zeke Draker.”
He descended from his throne, gesturing for Zeke to follow. “Come. I’ll take you to where my disciple is.”