Chapter 206

“Ugh…”

Barsabe groaned, clutching her right side. Sweat, blood, and the relentless downpour made everything sticky and damp.

She wrung the blood from her soaked upper body. Even if she tried to use magic for first aid, she had exhausted all her energy from using the clone technique too long to shake off her pursuers. With no strength left, her body was no different from that of an ordinary person.

Suppressing the pain, Barsabe curled herself into a tight ball.

‘Maybe that idiot did well after all. Ah, this really hurts.’

She was hiding in a corner of an abandoned warehouse. The sound of rain hitting the roof was unusually loud—almost like the footsteps she had heard hours ago. That single step she had taken with all her might to survive.

Tap, tap, tap!

She had lured the four armored pursuers to the outskirts. If only she had a bit more power, she could have sent her clones in different directions to create wider confusion. But reality was harsh. Barsabe, her clones, and the armored men kept a steady distance, chasing and fleeing in a tense game of cat and mouse.

Yet, at some point, something felt off. It didn’t feel like a straightforward chase to kill her, but more like they were herding her, trying to push her toward a certain path. As if they wanted her to take a different route.

‘I don’t think this is a mistake.’

With the palace’s fate unknown, Barsabe faced a choice at this crossroads: run and protect herself, or take the path her enemies dreaded. To strike at their weak spot, she had to get close. The price was a body so damaged she could barely move.

She glanced down at her left hand, the one she couldn’t use much. Her father Petreos’s ring was still on her finger.

Not long ago, she hadn’t understood her father’s resolve when he took his own life, leaving her behind. But now, she thought she might finally grasp it—the life of a knight, living with death always close by for the sake of the fight.

Pressing her lips to the ring, she steeled herself.

‘Just hold on a little longer. When the sun rises, people will come. If the body is found, the royal guards will come too. It’ll be okay.’

Chetur. A district lined with manual factories, a hub where goods were stored before being distributed to the center. Large manufacturing guilds, merchant groups, and blacksmiths all had their dealings here, but smaller groups formed their own communities fitting the area’s character.

One of them was clearly rooted in Haiman.

‘There’s no Haiman bank here. Yet the people in District 3 didn’t find the black armor suspicious. That means they must have seen it often around here, and given the area, it’s probably connected to black armor production.’

Most likely, this was a storage site for materials. If it wasn’t black armor, that would be even better—it could reveal other secrets Haiman was hiding.

Barsabe repeated her best-case scenario over and over.

Her disguised corpse would be found quickly, the palace would use it to launch investigations nearby, identify the base, seize supplies—and officially confirm her survival.

“Hey, have you checked here?”

“No, not yet.”

“You take the right side first. I’ll go this way.”

“This way! Move this way!”

Splash, splash!

From afar, faint sounds of footsteps approached—the voices of her pursuers. The body hadn’t been found yet.

Barsabe curled up tighter, holding her breath. The deeper the night, the colder it got. Her breath escaped in faint puffs, so she closed her eyes completely.

‘Damn it.’

Creak.

“Keep moving, keep moving,” she prayed like a mantra, but it was no use. The warehouse door opened carelessly, letting in light—the glow of the pursuers’ lanterns. They glanced around the dim space, roughly scattering the stored goods.

Bang! Thud!

“Be careful. If you break something, it’ll be a pain.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Barsabe’s tension rose until she felt nauseous. Every sense was on edge, as if trying to memorize her final moments. Fortunately, the pursuers found nothing and turned to leave.

“Looks like it’s not here.”

“But are you sure it’s really here?”

“No idea. The knights lost the trail nearby, and Annie hasn’t come back, so it’s suspicious.”

“What a pain. Let’s check the next warehouse.”

“They said there’s nowhere left with all limbs intact, so she must be hiding somewhere.”

Annie—the woman Barsabe had dealt with. The one who attacked her as soon as they met in District 3.

Barsabe bit her lip and listened closely. The footsteps were moving away. Just as they were about to leave the warehouse eaves—

“Wait.”

A man raised his hand, then glanced back at his feet. A faint red stain mixed in. At first, Barsabe thought it might be a reflection from the lantern, but it wasn’t.

“Check your feet.”

“My feet? Why?”

“Any wounds?”

“No. Why all of a sudden?”

“……”

Instead of answering, the man drew his sword. They had stepped on the blood of someone wounded and hiding. His comrades tensed, ready to attack.

Shing.

The cold, eerie sound of a sword sliding from its sheath echoed—a sound Barsabe had heard hundreds, thousands of times.

She instinctively knew she’d been found out. Biting her lip hard, she opened her eyes. It was truly over. Before they killed her, it was time to show the pride of a knight. She wouldn’t curl up and die quietly. At least, she would decide the terms of her own death.

“Let’s see if she’s here.”

Crash! Clang!

“No? Then here?”

The pursuers smashed through large crates, slashing and stabbing anything wrapped in cloth, searching every possible hiding spot.

Swish.

Flash! Crash!

“Argh!”

Barsabe threw a dagger at the man with his back turned. She aimed for his neck, but her injured body made her miss. The dagger sliced off his ear and embedded itself in the wall.

Seizing the moment, Barsabe dashed for the warehouse exit. Or at least, she tried to. She limped badly on one foot, barely managing to walk.

“Hah!”

The pursuers sneered at her pitiful figure instead of rushing after her. With that kind of state, she was less than a trapped rat.

“Blood! Blood!”

“You’re not dying, kid. Just stop the bleeding.”

“Hey! Short hair! You’d be faster if you just rolled.”

They scraped their swords against the ground, following her slowly. Apart from the rain, the only sounds were wet footsteps, laughter, and her ragged groans.

It was a futile escape, but Barsabe kept moving. She hoped that by resisting outside rather than inside, someone might see her. Though the weather was terrible and no one was around.

Splash! Splash!

“Huff, huff…”

“Too fast. Slow down a bit!”

In the distance, a flicker of figures appeared—people. They stood under umbrellas, smoking cigarettes. For a moment, hope flared in Barsabe’s eyes—until she saw the black armor standing tall among them.

Whoosh!

The pursuers struck from behind, cutting her down like a game. Barsabe collapsed forward, clutching her hand tightly to bear the pain. Her fingers gripped handfuls of dirt.

“Leave the face. The head’s worth a gold coin. They need to confirm identity.”

“Damn bastards…”

“Can’t hear you. What was that?”

Clang! Slash!

The pursuers’ swords aimed for Barsabe’s neck, striking at right angles. She rolled to the side, barely blocking the blows. At the same time, the man with the missing ear charged in, kicking her repeatedly.

“How dare you!”

“……”

“My ear!”

Thud! Crack!

Barsabe bit down hard, stifling her groans. She wouldn’t let these bastards see her suffer. Beric, that bastard—without molars, biting was no easy task.

“Die! Die!”

One last strike. Just one more to take down. Barsabe clenched the sword hilt tightly, determined.

Swish.

Suddenly, all the lanterns went out.

The moon hid behind thick rain clouds. In an instant, the world seemed swallowed by darkness.

The pursuers hesitated, staring at their lanterns. The glass covers were tightly sealed—no one knew how the lights had gone out.

“Anyone got a light?”

“Why the hell—”

Crash!

A deafening roar shattered the night as a man was mercilessly crushed, as if struck by a falling meteor.

Barsabe squinted, her vision blurred.

“What… what was that?”

“Hey! Help here!”

And then again—

Crash!

A wet cloak fluttered endlessly. Barsabe instinctively dropped to the ground, letting out a breath of relief. Tears mixed with the rain, but she’d pass them off as just water.

“Barsabe.”

“Ah…”

“Are you okay?”

Her comrades. They unleashed their magic, bending the falling raindrops in swirling arcs. The man with the severed ear was dead from a single blow—so brutally that even the heavy rain couldn’t wash away the blood.

“Ugh, ugh! Hey!”

Tat, tat!

One by one, the palace guards appeared through the pouring rain. Their faces were hidden in the darkness, but relief washed over them at the sight of Barsabe still alive. One of his comrades tore off his robe and threw it to him.

“Barsabe. We’ve been looking for you.”

“Ah, everyone… really…”

“We’ll die together on this battlefield. You too.”

Barsabe clutched the red cloth and collapsed back down. He was too weak now even to lift himself up. The sudden appearance of the enemy made the pursuers shout loudly.

“Here!”

They were calling out to the figure in black armor. But that shout soon turned into his final scream, as, like his comrades before him, his limbs were torn apart and he fell to the ground.

Whoosh.

Crash.

The palace guards turned their backs on Barsabe and faced the black-armored foe. Those who grasped the situation began spreading out to call for reinforcements. It looked like a major battle was about to erupt in Chetur today.

Ziiing. Ziiing.

The magic armor that had defeated Riama. The core force of the enemy that neither Barsabe nor Beric could overcome together.

The palace guards unleashed their magic endlessly, preparing to attack. Their glowing light shimmered faintly through the sheets of rain.

“We are the palace guards. Are you truly a knight of the Haiman family? And are you the one who did this to our Barsabe?”

Someone shouted, but the armor gave no answer. Instead, it swung its massive fist in a wide arc and charged forward.

Boom! Slash!

The fist slammed into the ground, sending a powerful jet of water shooting up. One guard grabbed Barsabe’s arm and pulled him out of the way, while the others leapt into the air, swinging their swords.

Ching! Clang! Clang!

Five palace guards struck the armor simultaneously—from front, back, sides, even the crown of its helmet. They poured all their strength into the blows, but the armor only staggered, refusing to fall. The guards were left speechless and took a step back.

“What on earth—”

What was this armor made of…?

Though cracks appeared on its surface, the knight inside seemed unharmed. As everyone braced to attack again, three black-armored figures thundered in from afar.

Three in total—the same ones that had been chasing Barsabe.

“All units!!”

Flash!

Rumble!

Lightning and thunder crashed down as Jaret’s booming command echoed from above. Standing on the roof of the abandoned warehouse, he pointed his sword at the armor.

“Captain!”

“From now on, the mission objective changes.”

Ziiing. Ziiing.

Jaret’s power, only unleashed against monsters, stirred a cold, dark aura around him.

“Annihilation. We will wipe out the enemy without mercy.”