Yuri had committed countless killings throughout the war, but all of them had been against orcs.
So this was effectively the first time he had killed a human in this life.
Yet, there was no emotional turmoil.
In his previous life, he had fought the empire and piled corpses like mountains.
He knew all too well that if he didn’t kill, he would be killed—and he had long since abandoned any excuses.
Anyone who stood in his way would fall.
On the other hand, the Blackclad group, unaware of Yuri’s background, was deeply unsettled.
“…”
According to their intelligence, the third prince of Briole had never killed a human before.
They had assumed he would hesitate when facing people.
It was a grave misjudgment.
Killing just one or two people wouldn’t cause such a reaction.
Either the third prince had slaughtered countless humans in secret, or he was a born psychopath.
The leader of the Blackclad spoke up.
“Nothing changes. Stay calm.”
Normally, he never spoke during missions, but he deliberately raised his voice to steady his comrades.
It seemed he would have to take direct action.
“I’ll go first. Stay composed.”
Though the third prince had defied their expectations, the leader didn’t feel threatened.
He was confident.
Since being taken in by the noble at the imperial palace, he had been trained solely to kill humans.
The other members with him were the same.
He recalled the report they had received just before the assault.
According to the data, most of the third prince’s claimed victories were likely achieved by knights named Roland and Raymond.
He agreed with that assessment.
No boy under twenty could fight orcs like that on his own.
So, the prince probably avoided the tournament to keep his true skill hidden.
“Attack.”
The leader signaled with his hand and charged.
The third prince stood still, his sword hanging loosely.
First, he waved the blade in a dazzling display. Amid the swirling afterimages, it would be impossible to tell which was the real sword.
Matching his movement, the other members surrounded the prince, looking for an opening.
Then, the leader suddenly felt a breeze brush past his cheek.
At first, he ignored it, but the wind grew stronger.
His cloak flapped violently.
Soon, he realized a whirlwind was forming around the third prince.
The air currents sucked in everything like a black hole.
“…!”
Momentarily startled, the leader quickly regained his composure. Instead of resisting the flow, he used the pull to approach the prince and thrust his blade.
But the moment he collided with the core of the vortex—
His clothes shredded into pieces.
He shouted instinctively.
“Don’t get close!”
But it was too late.
One of the members stepped into the whirlwind’s domain and was flung out like a rag.
His lower body was completely torn apart, leaving only his upper torso crawling on the ground, guts spilling out. Eventually, he died.
The horrific sight made even the leader hesitate.
“What’s wrong with you all?”
The third prince approached with a calm expression.
Around the sword resting on his shoulder, a sword aura swirled as if alive.
This was no ordinary wind.
It was a storm of mana-infused sword energy.
He muttered involuntarily.
“Unbelievable…”
The whirlwind was made up of smaller vortices, which themselves contained even tinier spirals.
They meshed together like gears, sometimes spinning in the same direction, sometimes opposing, creating cycles of harmony and conflict.
Through this process, the destructive power multiplied exponentially.
Anything caught inside was shredded to pieces.
It was astonishing.
The third prince’s effortless display had completely shattered their expectations.
“Hold position.”
He ordered the others to fall back and carefully observed the prince.
Sweat trickled down the prince’s cheek.
Was he tired?
Though the situation was unexpected, it was manageable.
Using such a destructive technique would take a toll even on its wielder.
He must have gambled everything on his strongest skill, knowing a prolonged fight would be disadvantageous.
Not bad.
It was a clever ploy to exaggerate his strength and instill fear in the enemy.
He was strong and smart.
Perhaps his feats in the alliance army weren’t lies after all.
But that was as far as it went.
He was still under twenty—time was absolutely against him.
It was impossible for him to develop the skill to stand against them.
The leader stepped forward and signaled. The others cautiously followed.
Once again, the terrifying whirlwind spread out.
He feigned moving forward, leaning in, then pulled back.
That way, he drained the prince’s mana.
Gradually, the prince’s strength seemed to wane; he began to retreat.
Then, the prince’s sword tip dipped slightly.
“Now.”
At his signal, the members waiting nearby moved in unison, surrounding the prince and his guard.
The hunt had begun.
Hunting a weary enemy was an easy task.
He gave another signal, ordering the formation of the Wheel Formation.
Using numbers, they would take turns engaging the enemy, wearing them down until they collapsed.
Yuri and his guard covered each other’s backs. Their voices reached him.
“Hey, do well.”
“Be careful.”
They maintained forced calm, showing no emotional disturbance.
He smiled faintly.
Their loyalty ultimately served the empire’s interests.
If they killed this brilliant third prince, it would benefit the empire’s future.
Even if the king of Briole raged, it didn’t matter.
No one could match the empire’s Ten Great Forces in number.
“For that one and only…”
As he ordered the attack, the members took turns striking.
The third prince and his guard didn’t fall easily. They defended well and occasionally counterattacked, killing some members.
But the numerical advantage was clear.
With every turn of the death wheel, the prince’s fate edged closer to death.
By the time the Wheel Formation ended, those two would be corpses.
He didn’t rush.
Yuri withdrew the spinning whirlwind and faced the Blackclad charging at him, glancing sideways at the leader.
He didn’t like the look in the masked man’s eyes.
It was as if he pitied their efforts.
“Hey, Jared.”
“Yes?”
“Do as I said.”
“Understood.”
Whispering softly, Jared sliced the leg of one Blackclad.
The opponent, a trained assassin, didn’t even groan.
Instead, he swung his sword at Yuri to force him back, then returned to form part of the Wheel Formation’s spokes.
A new Blackclad appeared and lunged at Yuri.
It was tricky.
They relied on their numbers, determined to slowly but surely crush him.
They had killed about five so far; fifteen remained.
“When will you make your move?”
“Right now!”
Jared grunted as he plunged his sword into a Blackclad’s heart.
But he stabbed too deep.
While pulling out his blade, another Blackclad charged, putting him in danger.
Yuri intervened and saved him.
Jared whispered,
“Hey, my acting’s great, right?”
“You almost died for real.”
“No, that was part of the act.”
Indeed.
They were acting.
Pretending to be barely holding on after a tough fight, responding defensively while occasionally killing or crippling an enemy.
There was only one reason.
To prevent anyone from fleeing.
If they had crushed the enemy outright from the start, they might have run.
So they deliberately appeared overwhelmed to force the enemy to commit fully.
And the plan worked perfectly.
Just by looking at that leader’s unpleasant glare, Yuri could read his thoughts.
At first: “It’s probably an exaggerated reputation. Just a rookie.”
After one clash: “Not bad at all. But he must have overexerted himself using those skills.”
Now: “He’s getting tired. If we keep pressing, we’ll win.”
Yuri saw right through him, almost like mind reading.
“Huff, huff…”
He exaggerated his heavy breathing and dodged a Blackclad’s sword.
The tip of Guilty’s blade slithered up his arm like a snake and slashed his throat.
As the leader and Blackclads’ eyes widened at the artistic strike, Yuri coughed loudly.
“Cough, cough!”
Like someone whose vital energy was damaged from overexertion, he deliberately made it sound like he was coughing up blood.
He didn’t bite his tongue to avoid real blood, but this was enough to sell the act.
As expected, the Blackclads’ eyes gleamed with renewed confidence as they attacked again.
Simple-minded fools.
They might have had some training, but they lacked the skills of true assassins.
“Hey, scared? Then get lost!”
Yuri shouted, and the Blackclads charged fiercely once more.
He kept defending and occasionally counterattacking, stabbing their legs each time.
Gradually, the Wheel Formation slowed.
Yuri quietly asked Jared behind him.
“How’s our condition?”
“Easy.”
“We keep acting until he catches on.”
“Understood.”
As time passed, the leader began to sense something was off.
By now, the prince and his guard should have been exhausted, but though they staggered, they didn’t fall.
And sometimes, with impossible moves, they counterattacked and killed members one by one.
Their numbers had already been cut to less than half.
All survivors limped.
Realizing this, the leader checked his team in shock.
“Uh…”
He was the only one still fully mobile.
Startled by what that meant, he shouted,
“Could it be…?”
“Finally caught on?”
The moment the leader shouted, Yuri straightened his back and charged toward the wheel formation.
Caught off guard, the two men in black tried to fight back, but Yuri swung his Guilty sword and cut one down.
One died, the other barely escaped.
But the survivor was limping badly, crawling on the ground with a wounded leg.
Yuri smiled at the flustered leader.
“Running away just makes things harder for you.”
“That’s impossible…”
“Isn’t it your turn to be shocked and run now?”
“Ugh…”
He shouldn’t be here.
His instincts screamed a warning.
Yuri Briol, the third prince of the Briol family, was far more monstrous than he had imagined.
Not just in swordsmanship, but in cunning schemes and the ability to carry them out—he exceeded all expectations.
Feigning weakness on purpose, waiting until his opponent’s mobility was drained.
Who would do something like that?
All the leader could think now was to warn his master as quickly as possible.
He immediately turned to put distance between himself and Yuri.
But after only a few steps, something sharp pierced his calf.
“Argh…!”
He tumbled to the ground.
His face slammed into a rock, teeth breaking and blood splattering.
“Ugh…”
Feeling around his calf, he found a dagger lodged there.
While he lay on the ground, screams came from behind—his men were being slaughtered.
“Ahhh…!”
The wheel formation was draining their stamina instead.
This was a massacre.
Fear crept into his eyes.
“Hey.”
At last, the surroundings fell silent except for the footsteps of the third prince.
“Let’s make this easy.”
Yuri sat down beside him, lowering the bloodied mask from the leader’s face.
“Ugh…”
Yuri was taken aback as teeth fell from the leader’s mouth.
“Th-that’s bad. Hey.”
“…”
“I know a place that can fix that…”
“…”
“Forget that. You don’t want to be tortured, right? Either way, if you go back like this, you’re dead.”
“…”
“Just tell me who sent you, and I’ll let you live.”
“…”
“Let’s do this peacefully. Okay? I’m not the type to enjoy bloodshed.”
Yuri pulled the dagger from the leader’s calf. The man’s leg twitched, but he gritted his teeth and held back a groan.
“Wow, no sound at all. That’s manly.”
Yuri patted his shoulder.
“Impressive. You’ve got guts, my dark little friend. Let’s start with introductions—what’s your name?”
“…”
“Ah, you’re making me talk all alone here…”
“…”
“You really won’t say anything?”
“…”
“Hmm…”
Yuri spun the dagger in his hand once, then slashed across the man’s eye.
The sudden strike burst the eyeball.
He clutched his face and writhed in pain.
“Argh! My eye!”
Yuri grinned.
“Oh, now you’re talking.”