The walls surrounding the Briol royal palace were towering high, topped with razor-sharp spikes.
For most people, even thinking about breaching them would be unthinkable. But for an assassin like Hasan, it was child’s play.
Leading ten assassins, he scaled the palace walls in an instant.
Hasan’s eyes took in the scene inside the Briol palace.
Lanterns lined the streets, casting faint light, but most of the palace remained shrouded in darkness. He melted into the shadows.
The palace guards patrolling inside were completely unaware of their presence.
Hasan signaled silently.
“Two with me. The rest move separately.”
These weren’t just any assassins lurking in the dark.
They had been enhanced by dark magic, their strength far surpassing normal limits—enough to rival a master swordsman.
Ten such warriors followed him.
Considering the nature of their mission, with this force, they could strike not only Briol but the royal palaces of other nations as well.
If they assassinated every king, the entire continent might bow to the empire.
A smile flickered inside Hasan as he moved forward.
Two of his men quietly followed.
There was a reason he split the group.
Two with him, eight in the other team—balancing their strength almost evenly.
That was how strong he was.
Hasan headed toward his target: Joshua Briol, the king of Briol.
The king’s quarters lay at the heart of the palace. The deeper they went, the more frequent the guards became.
Yet none detected Hasan or his assassins.
They didn’t just move cautiously in the dark—they used dark magic to erase their presence almost entirely.
Few guards possessed the senses to detect them.
As soon as the guards passed, Hasan slipped along the shadows of the buildings and stopped on the ground where Joshua’s quarters came into view.
He scanned the surroundings.
Silence.
He briefly gauged the wind’s direction, then prepared to move in.
But his feet wouldn’t budge.
The other two waited silently.
Hasan glanced back.
In an empty courtyard inside the palace—where no one should have been—someone sat quietly. Hasan had only just noticed.
“Prepare for battle.”
He whispered.
Making a sound meant they’d already been spotted.
The two assassins with him drew their weapons instantly.
Hasan stepped toward the center of the courtyard.
“Why wait until the guards left before making a move?”
Hasan stopped, sensing the other’s intention.
“Did you really think you could stop us alone?”
Though the guards had passed, the figure hadn’t revealed their presence until now.
Only when they were alone did they finally show themselves.
Such arrogance.
“Well…”
The figure, who had been silent, rose.
“You came to assassinate me, yet you thought I wouldn’t notice.”
Hasan’s face twitched.
The man was right. Though they hadn’t moved, they hadn’t sensed him until he revealed himself—a fatal mistake for assassins.
The man continued.
“And I didn’t expect you to come at me after being discovered.”
A fair point.
That was a poor response for an assassin.
But Hasan wasn’t exactly an assassin in the strictest sense. He was simply carrying out his mission, with a mindset closer to a knight meeting his opponent blade to blade.
“What’s your name?”
“Do you need to know?”
“I have to report who I kill.”
Hasan and his two assassins faced the man.
Only now, under the faint glow of a distant streetlamp, could they make out his face.
“I’m Bernard.”
He gave his name.
Hasan recalled the name from memory—Bernard, the swordmaster who trained Yuri Briol. He knew Bernard had taught the princes in their youth but hadn’t realized he still stayed within the palace.
It didn’t matter.
No matter how skilled he was, in the end, it was the same. They had been baptized by dark magic; they could not be defeated.
The two assassins moved swiftly to flank Bernard. Forming a triangle, they surrounded him.
Hasan spoke.
“Better to kill him quickly and move on.”
“Here to kill Joshua, are you?”
“No need to know.”
“Is that so?”
Bernard drew his sword.
Suddenly, Hasan felt a chill.
Something was different.
This man sitting in the courtyard at night was no ordinary human.
It was as if a wild beast stood before him.
No, that wasn’t it.
Hasan stared at Bernard standing in the darkness, thinking this pressure wasn’t from a beast.
It was something more unreal.
As if facing a ghost.
His palms grew sweaty.
Hasan couldn’t understand why he felt this way. Every time Bernard raised his sword and advanced, the distance closed in an instant.
Hasan spoke.
“You know what?”
Bernard stopped and lifted his chin, as if daring him to continue.
“We split into two groups.”
Unconsciously, Hasan began to boast, trying to distract his opponent.
He instinctively sensed just how strong Bernard was.
Though Bernard was once called the Sword Demon and had been the swordmaster of Yuri Briol in his youth, that was long ago. His name had faded from the front lines.
But the Bernard Hasan faced today was no weakling.
He hadn’t weakened over time; if anything, he had grown stronger.
“Even if you stop us, Joshua will die. This isn’t the time to leisurely face us.”
“True.”
Bernard’s expression remained unchanged.
“Can’t be helped.”
“What?”
“Not my concern.”
“You’re staying in Briol, yet you say that…”
“I’m a retainer, not a subject of Briol. Protecting the king isn’t my duty. What nonsense.”
Bernard raised his sword again.
“Protecting the king is the guards’ job.”
“Oh, really?”
Hasan nodded and smiled.
This attitude was actually good.
Splitting their forces was precisely for moments like this. If one group was stopped, the other could still complete the mission.
If they could hold Bernard off, the rest of the assassins could finish the job, and the operation would be a success.
“Let’s hope those guards do their job well.”
Bernard nodded.
“Indeed.”
That was the signal.
His sword came flying.
Hasan barely blocked it.
Immediately, a thought struck him.
How is he this fast?
Hasan’s eyes snapped open.
Bernard’s sword fluttered in his grip like a butterfly, then twisted its trajectory and shot forward like an arrow—too fast to track.
One slip, and it would pierce through.
A cold sweat ran down Hasan’s back.
He gritted his teeth, blocking blow after blow.
He hadn’t expected the mission to be this difficult. He hadn’t imagined such a formidable warrior lurking in the Briol palace.
He couldn’t understand why Bernard wasn’t deployed on the front lines.
But Bernard wasn’t weak enough to be easily defeated.
At Hasan’s signal, the two assassins lunged to attack Bernard from behind. Hasan raised his sword as well.
Three blades danced around Bernard, encircling him.
Blood spurted.
“Ha…”
Hasan grinned.
Bernard blocked Hasan and one assassin’s strikes but failed to stop the other’s attack, leaving a wound on his chest.
It wasn’t deep, but drawing blood was a victory.
Bernard calmly looked down at his chest.
Then he tore off his shirt.
His exposed torso was well-toned but covered in scars.
Hasan sneered at the countless sword wounds across his chest and abdomen.
“Where did you get all those cuts? It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”
Bernard nodded.
“True enough.”
He raised his sword again, his presence growing even fiercer.
Hasan and the two assassins circled clockwise, watching his movements closely.
“Now that I think about it, it’s you.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was a madman who regularly gifted me with sword wounds. A ‘gift,’ if you will. I stayed in Briol to try and defeat that inhuman fool. But now, thanks to you, I won’t see him anymore.”
“What nonsense…”
Bernard closed his eyes, then opened them again.
The moment Hasan met his gaze, his heart sank.
This was different from before.
The man before him was the very embodiment of a Sword Demon.
A blade soaked in countless battles stood right in front of him.
Bernard’s form blurred.
Hasan lost sight of him for a moment, then sensed movement beside him and twisted his body.
Bernard had already closed in, swinging his sword.
“You…”
To kill an enemy, many conditions weren’t necessary.
Strength, speed, or striking a weak spot.
You just had to cut first.
That was the sword. That was murder.
But Bernard was different.
Not a mere tool, but the sword itself, pursued to its absolute limit.
Hasan finally understood why he was called the Sword Demon.
This man was dangerous.
Far more dangerous than he appeared.
“Damn it…”
Hasan desperately parried Bernard’s blade and took a large step back.
He forced a smile and said, “Hey, Sword Demon. Aren’t you worried about your king? By now, he must have made it inside the palace. He might even be dead already. This isn’t exactly the time to be leisurely sword-fighting.”
It was a taunt meant to shake him.
But Bernard didn’t stop.
He kept advancing, letting out nothing more than a faint chuckle.
“You’re seriously underestimating Briole.”
Hassan and the scattered assassins swiftly infiltrated Joshua’s quarters.
Two royal guards stood watch at the entrance, but deceiving their senses was easy.
The assassins’ bodies were imbued with dark magic. The dark mage had inscribed magical seals directly onto their flesh, turning them into perfect killers.
Thanks to that, no one could detect their presence.
As night fell, the interior of the chambers lay silent.
Not a single servant stirred.
It was the perfect setting.
The assassins moved with silent footsteps.
Eight of them advanced without making a sound.
Hassan hadn’t appeared yet, but that didn’t change their mission. Whoever arrived first could kidnap the king.
If he resisted, they were free to kill him.
Soon, they found the king’s bedchamber.
But someone was sitting on the floor, leaning against the door, dozing off.
It wasn’t surprising—guards were expected outside the king’s room.
They only needed to take out one.
Just as the assassins crept closer, holding their breath—
“Hmm…”
The guard, who had been standing with his arms crossed, slowly unclasped his hands and gripped his sword.
“A visitor, huh?”