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The moment before Allen plunged into the water—
Princess Ariel's pleasure barge had drifted within ten meters of the Blaige Continental Bridge.
Puppeteers and craftsmen dangled from ropes beneath the arched bridge, swaying gently.
Ariel gazed at the figures on the bridge in the dawn light, memories rippling in the depths of her mind, her expression momentarily distant.
Her focus wavered, her vision blurring—until the "craftsmen" beneath the bridge suddenly moved in unison, snapping her back to reality.
Her eyes flicked toward them.
Amid the chaotic crowd, the figures turned, grinning at her.
In one swift motion, they yanked off the puppet heads hanging around them and slipped them over their own. Blades flashed, too fast to track!
Before Ariel could react, one of them had already completed the incantation for a Wind Burst spell. With a vicious smile, he pressed his hand against a massive horizontal stone slab—clearly a load-bearing structure, at least three meters in diameter.
"BOOM!!!"
The advanced wind magic detonated, shattering the already cracked slab in an instant!
The bridge collapsed.
Falling debris, silhouettes standing in the dawn light, and the glint of blades reflected in Ariel's blue-green eyes.
"SPLASH! SPLASH!"
The next moment—rocks, bodies, and steel plunged into the water.
Ariel recoiled in shock, instinctively pulling back from the window.
At the same time, Dilick's panicked shout erupted from below deck.
"Anchor! Drop the anchor!!"
Screams rose from the shore. "SPLASH!" The well-trained crew hurled the iron anchor into the river.
The boat lurched. Ariel snapped back to awareness, her eyes darting to the broken bridge. Leaning out the window, she shouted toward the second deck.
"Dilick! Calm the crowd! Rescue first! Di—Dilick?!"
Her delicate face twisted from shock to horror.
Below, the "guards" Dilick had hired through family connections moved with eerie efficiency. One casually knocked him unconscious, while another smirked up at Ariel, hand already drawing something from his waist.
She jerked back inside—
"THUNK!"
A dagger grazed her cheek, drawing blood, and embedded itself in the wooden wall beside the window, still quivering.
The window slammed shut.
The scene unfolded too fast, the chaos too overwhelming—yet nearby guards and maids had seen enough.
"Assassins among the guards!! Protect Her Highness!!!"
Several guards charged the two imposters, only to be bisected mid-stride, their bodies collapsing in a bloody heap.
One assassin flicked his blade clean with a sneer.
"Tch. You're Water God style, not North God. Why bother with throwing knives? If you were any good, you'd have killed the princess a dozen times by now."
The knife-thrower's face darkened as he drew his sword.
"Shut up and move!"
The two exchanged savage grins and charged toward the stairs leading to the upper decks.
Bodies. Blades.
Severed limbs. Blood.
Steel carved through flesh like wind through grass. A hidden Water Saint and an advanced swordsman—five lives extinguished in as many strokes. Yet the remaining guards, realizing the threat, didn't falter.
They threw themselves forward, forming a wall of flesh to block the assassins' path.
Such was the power of Ariel's charm—the allure of a true succubus, even without her powers.
"Assassins!"
"Protect Her Highness!!"
"Aaaagh—!"
"Hold them! The city guard will be here soon!"
The killers didn't waste words. They carved forward in silence, the wet thuds of cleaving meat echoing across the deck. Blood misted the air.
—
On the bridge, the sudden violence yanked Isolte's attention toward the barge. The absurdity of her earlier shout—"Trust Allen! Listen to him!"—still lingered in her eyes, now mingling with fresh disbelief.
Even if these assassins were skilled, Ariel's guards outnumbered them. A human barricade could stall them long enough for reinforcements.
This was suicide. Why attack now?
"To arms! To arms!!"
The thought barely formed before the city guard began swarming the boat.
Isolte gritted her teeth and turned back to the churning water.
No time for Ariel! Senior Brother can't use the Light Blade underwater! Even if he's mastered the Five Secrets, how can he fight without footing?
No leverage means no strikes. No strikes mean no techniques!
She grabbed Sylphie, who was still pinning her down, and spoke rapidly.
"Sylphie, listen—we can't just wait! As a swordsman, I know—"
"AHHH! ASSASSINS IN THE WATER!!"
A scream from the barge cut her off. A terrible realization struck.
Her face paled.
She looked down.
At the water's edge, two dripping figures surfaced, daggers clenched in their teeth, swimming toward the barge—faster than the guards.
A single thought flashed through everyone's mind:
If the underwater killers could spare men to attack Ariel…
Their pupils shrank.
Streaks of red bloomed beneath the orange dawn, vivid even in the murky water.
Sylphie, Rudeus, Eris, Isolte—all four faces twisted in horror. Now even Eris moved to dive in—
Only for Sylphie to yank both girls back.
Though her own face was pale, her voice was steel. Gone was the timid girl—this was a command.
"TRUST HIM! If he can't swing a sword down there, neither can you! You'll just get in his way! I've seen this before—he'll be fine!"
She was, improbably, the calmest of them all.
But her voice rang too loud in the sudden silence.
They looked around.
The pier—once a cacophony of screams and splashing—
Was quiet.
"Plop."
Rudeus sat down hard, his half-formed Stone Cannon dissolving into mud. He exhaled shakily, pointing at the water beneath the bridge.
The others looked.
Red.
Blooming in spreading petals.
Ripples of crimson surged toward the barge, chasing the white foam.
Dawn's glow couldn't mask it.
The water beneath the bridge thickened with blood.
Too vivid.
Too fast.
It stabbed into every onlooker's vision, holding their gaze captive.
A collective shudder passed through the crowd.
Every nose filled with the scent of iron.
The pier had been muted.
The assassins, turning expectantly toward their aquatic allies—
The guards, trembling before a mountain of corpses—
The crowds on both shores, mouths agape—
The nobles on the dock, gaping like fish—
Even the city guards, oars forgotten mid-stroke—
All stared at the water in horror.
The creeping tide of red, surging forward with unnatural purpose, seemed almost… divine.
In Rainshear—a city steeped in the faith of Stellan—on the second day of the Water Festival—
It froze them.
Some here had seen blood before. The bridge's collapse had sent bodies tumbling. Death wasn't strange.
But this?
How, in mere moments, had the water for meters around—
Turned completely red?
It looked as though some colossal beast had thrashed beneath the surface—
Slicing everyone in half with a single swipe.
The eerie, the unknown—it strangled all sound.
Only two men didn't gawk at the "miracle." They scrambled aboard via the anchor chain, sending maids and crew fleeing with screams.
The assassins on deck, snapping out of their daze, saw their chance. With a burst of battle aura—
"SWISH!"
Two sword beams mowed down the stunned guards. They lunged for the third-floor stairs.
Blood streaked their faces as they roared to their comrades:
"Now! The Stellan God aids us!"
"She's ours!"
But their allies didn't respond.
The newly boarded assassins just stood there, staring at the bloody water, knives raised defensively—
Their backs slashed to the bone, wounds still gushing.
The stair-climbing pair froze.
Then their "allies" moved—
Not toward the princess, but toward the anchor chain.
"CLANG!"
Their blades severed the thick iron links in a single strike.
The boat lurched violently—
"SPLINTER!"
Two bloodied hands shot from the water, gripping the shattered railing. A crimson figure hauled itself onto the deck.
One hand deflected a desperate slash—
The other grabbed a wrist, twisted, and—
"SCHLICK!"
—Drove the assassin's own dagger through his partner's skull.
The survivor's eyes bulged, veins popping as he yanked the blade free and stabbed at the intruder—
"POP."
His head burst.
The dagger clattered to the deck.
Time elapsed: 1.39 seconds.
Allen shook swirling battle aura from his hand and turned to the two swordsmen on the stairs.
They gaped at the water, then at the intestines draped over his shoulders—
And bolted for the third floor, cutting down two petrified guards en route. Five meters from Ariel's door.
Water God style's rapid processing had assessed the situation:
Take the princess hostage.
Allen's blood-caked face split into a grin.
He glanced at the hallway, then the stairs—
And vanished.
He reappeared mid-air, seven meters up, his soaked clothes flapping.
One hand punched through the ship's smooth hull, using the grip to flip his body at an inhuman angle—
Kicking off the railing to launch higher—
Then landing lightly on the third-deck edge.
One step.
Two.
The wind carried the scent of blood as he appeared in front of Ariel's door—
Blocking the assassins' path.
A single, cheerful word:
"Wait."
The killers didn't. Twin Water God strikes came from left and right—
Only to slice air as Allen sidestepped.
They stumbled forward—
Ariel's door right there—
Hope flashed in their eyes—
One meter.
Seventy centimeters.
Fifty.
Thirty—
"Thud. Thud."
Two heads hit the deck.
Still smiling.
Their headless bodies swayed—
"SHING!"
—Before being pinned to the wall by their own swords.
Time elapsed: 2.71 seconds.
Allen brushed his hands together, leaned on the railing, and gave his four wide-eyed observers a terrifyingly friendly smile.
Then he scanned the crowd.
The silent masses on both shores—women covering their mouths, men pale.
The city guard finally boarding, weapons ready, only to freeze at the sight of the blood-drenched figure.
Ten seconds. Thirty-seven lives.
How many could truly see his movements?
Just flashes. A ghost in the carnage.
The pier stayed deathly quiet.
Drip. Drip.
Blood—or river water?—fell from his soaked clothes.
The wind carried his voice clearly:
"The princess was attacked."
He pointed at the two impaled "guards."
"Until we root out the rest, no one crosses these bodies."
The sun finally crested the Alteel River.
A lone figure stood on the deck.
No god had manifested here.
Just death.
Fast death.
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