Chapter 155

It was an utterly irrational move, but Salah was preparing to launch a terrorist attack against Pendragon.

The Assassins.

Mobilizing those ominous crows meant exactly that.

Yet, Salah felt no hesitation.

If everything went according to plan, the Sultanate under his rule would gain immense power.

Perhaps even—

—the Mystery of Transcendence.

Southern lands, including Irene Windler, held Mysteries worth astronomical sums.

Even if it led to war, obtaining just a few of them would be worth the cost.

—Spill a little blood to gain power.

It was a trade-off that made perfect sense when looking toward the future.

That was how it should have been.

But—

“Irene… Irene Windler. Would you honor me by becoming my concubine?”

“…?”

For Salah, Mysteries and war had suddenly dropped in priority.

He felt as if he had finally found his missing half after a lifetime of searching.

How could he possibly describe this feeling?

At this moment, even the Sultan was nothing more than one of the countless men trying to court a woman.

He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to abduct her.

“A-Ah, was that too rude of a proposal? Or do you perhaps aspire to become a Sultana? Haha, considering the power of Galahad you possess, it might even be possible.”

“Excuse me, but this is starting to get a bit…”

Irene tried to say something.

Despite her timid nature, there were times when she needed to speak up—and this was definitely one of those times.

Especially—

‘What’s wrong with this lunatic…?’

—when dealing with a madman who clearly couldn’t be reasoned with.

Irene was prepared to politely ask, “Could you please get lost?” or perhaps more bluntly, “Do you have some kind of mental issue?”

Unfortunately—

Smack!

“Sultan. I tried to hold back, but what do you think you’re doing? How dare you show such disrespect to Miss Irene!”

“Magician, what do you think you’re doing? How dare you lay a hand on me…?”

Before Irene could even speak, a golden-haired man aggressively stepped in against the Sultan.

Huey de Beiron.

The Tower Master’s top disciple.

Huey glared at Salah with rage, and the Sultan’s expression turned ice cold.

“Magician. I was having a conversation with her. And yet, I don’t understand why a lowly man like you is interfering.”

“Hah. A conversation? From what I saw, you were just babbling nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Did you just call my words nonsense, magician?”

“What’s the problem if I did?”

“You insolent—!”

Salah bristled with anger.

This lowly magician dared to be disrespectful toward a Sultan?

But Huey wasn’t backing down either.

“A Sultan? Hah! It seems the Tower has been underestimated.”

The magician threw courtesy out the window.

There was no reason to be polite to an arrogant Sultan.

The Magic Tower was the ivory tower of mages.

Its influence covered nearly 40% of the vast central continent.

In other words, it could easily handle two or three Sultanates if it wanted to.

Thus—

“Mage Irene is destined to become a treasured figure of the magical world—a vital asset to the Tower. If you continue to behave coercively toward her and act in such an absurd manner, the Tower will not stand idly by. Keep that in mind, foreign lord.”

“You—!”

Sultan or not, Salah was practically a king.

Being addressed as merely a “lord” in front of the woman he liked—

It was a humiliation he couldn’t tolerate.

Especially when it happened right in front of her.

Smack!

Salah grabbed Huey by the collar, and Huey immediately grabbed his collar in return.

An instant standoff.

The two men looked ready to come to blows at any moment.

Meanwhile—

“This is insane!”

“A fight between the Tower’s top disciple and the young Sultan of the West over a woman? Tomorrow’s headlines are set!”

“Lady Irene certainly has a lot to answer for, hahaha.”

The onlookers were thoroughly entertained.

Where else could one witness a scandal involving powerful figures fighting over love?

The nobles and youths, starved for excitement, sparkled with enthusiasm as they watched the unfolding drama.

And at the center of it all—

“…I wish they’d both just disappear.”

[Agreed.]

Irene expressed her honest desire to get rid of them both, even if she had to throw them away.

****

“…Hmm.”

Meanwhile, a gray-haired boy watching the ridiculous farce scratched his head.

What was this absurd spectacle?

The more he watched, the more ridiculous it seemed.

Derrick, the gray-haired boy, glanced at the blonde girl out of curiosity.

He felt a little guilty for peeking, but—

“…Status.”

—he had to check.

Ding—.

━━━

Name: [Irene Windler]

Race: [Half-Fairy]

Traits:

[Cradle of a Grand Mage (Lv.5)]

[Child of the Fairies (Lv.4)]

[Nation-Toppling Beauty (Lv.6)]

[Glass Cannon (Lv.5)]

[Delicate Sickly Girl (Lv.3)]

Cradle of a Grand Mage: A trait granted only to those born with the talent of a grand mage. Provides overwhelming magical aptitude, strong mana, and superior mana circuits.

Child of the Fairies: A trait inherited by those with strong fairy blood. Grants mystical powers and the love of nature.

Nation-Toppling Beauty: A trait granted to those whose beauty can bring a nation to ruin. Captivates high-ranking individuals, and with ill intent, could truly cause a nation’s collapse.

Glass Cannon: A trait indicating an extremely weak constitution, worse than an elderly person’s. Severe lack of exercise results in fragile health (can be removed through effort).

Delicate Sickly Girl: A trait obtained by those with both Glass Cannon and Nation-Toppling Beauty

. Elicits sympathy and easily wins favor from wealthy nobles or royalty.

━━━

“…Now I get why these guys have completely lost their minds.”

Derrick stared at the girl’s traits, dumbfounded.

Traits like Cradle of a Grand Mage and Child of the Fairies didn’t even register in his mind.

Those were already expected.

What really caught his attention were Nation-Toppling Beauty, Glass Cannon, and Delicate Sickly Girl.

These were traits the developers must have added as a joke.

The Glass Cannon trait indicated a stamina stat of 2 or lower—essentially the level of a newborn infant. Meanwhile, Delicate Sickly Girl was practically a brainwashing ability.

It was especially effective against the wealthy and powerful, modeled after the frail female protagonists often seen in dramas.

And Nation-Toppling Beauty?

‘No wonder both the Sultan and the magician fell for her.’

It ensnared men—especially arrogant ones who thought too highly of themselves.

“…That’s one hell of a combination.”

How could someone have such a terrifying mix of traits?

Especially Glass Cannon—it was a rare trait that was hard to acquire, even intentionally.

‘Sure, it gives bonus stats to balance out the penalties, but… I’d never want it myself.’

Derrick gave up trying to understand the girl.

She was armed with traits that most people couldn’t even dream of obtaining, and thanks to that, she had those two “villains” completely locked in place.

Well, with the Sultan around, there was a good chance the Assassins were nearby…

“…Are they moths flying into the flame?”

Trying to sneak into a place guarded by a Level 8-Class Hero?

This was—

“Derrick! Stop zoning out and focus on dancing!”

“…S-Sorry, Karin. But this is the fifth time already…”

“So you’re planning to take a break?”

“…No.”

“Then dance.”

“…Yes.”

Unfortunately, Derrick couldn’t finish his thoughts.

He decided not to risk angering his partner any further.

The Assassins.

The origin of the word assassin.

Less of a mercenary group and more akin to a religious cult.

Similar to inquisitors, they enforced their doctrines with death, killing anyone who broke their rules or believed in other religions.

In the West, even the Sultanates feared them.

Not even Sultans dared to command them lightly, as their unwavering beliefs and brutality were unmatched.

When the Assassins took action, they didn’t just eliminate their targets—they massacred anyone even remotely connected, kidnapping and torturing without hesitation.

Their savagery made even Sultans back off, treating them like wild zebras that couldn’t be tamed.

Simply put—they were a disaster.

Not only were they uncontrollable, but using them often backfired.

That’s why the Assassins were rarely employed, even in the West.

Entrusting them with a task was like inviting catastrophe.

However—

“—··2··.”

“··33····.”

“·2··.”

Their skills were indisputably among the best on the continent.

They even communicated in their own encrypted codes, and most of them had undergone extreme physical modifications through the Great Techniques passed down within the Assassins.

Exceptional combat skills, unusual physiques, and special abilities—

They were capable of killing anyone they set their sights on—

—

“Do you have entry permits?”

—

Freeze.

The Assassins froze.

Since when had he been there?

Sitting casually on the roof, gazing at the moon, he watched them with calm eyes.

But the Assassins’ eyes shifted to the bodies scattered at his feet.

Those were their comrades—fellow Assassins who had infiltrated first.

There were about ten of them, all skilled enough to take down a knight commander.

And yet—

“Oh, you’re worried about them? Are they your friends? If you want to take them, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

“……”

“…No? Not taking them? Heartless bastards.”

Shing.

“I wouldn’t draw those if I were you.”

Dozens of Assassins drew their unique weapons—

Kukri.

A machete-like blade, symbolizing the legendary Gurkha mercenaries.

And with their blades drawn—

“··1·!”

—they charged at him.

Their resolve was clear—they would kill anything that stood in their way.

Clang! Clang!

The flurry of blades formed an inescapable iron cage of death.

There was no doubt it was a dire situation, yet—

Shhhh.

“……?”

Flowers bloomed out of place—no, plum blossoms.

They refused to acknowledge the situation as dangerous.

Swoosh!

Petals of plum blossoms sliced through weapons and flesh alike.

Splatter!

Blood fountains burst like petals scattering in the wind.

—Plum Blossom Blood Rain.

Plum blossoms mingled with a rain of blood.

“Let’s keep it quiet, shall we? No need to cause a fuss.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Can’t have anyone ruining the kids’ fun.

It was Ihan’s soft yet firm warning.