Mikhail drew his sword in one hand, ready to block the assailants closing in on him and Luce. With his other hand, he reached out protectively to shield Luce.
There were two on their side. Seven on the other.
Even a passerby could tell—they were completely outnumbered.
In Luce’s mind, several spell formulas that could be used in this situation were swirling around. And yet, the fact that not a single one of them could actually be cast was beyond frustrating.
Tch. Luce clicked his tongue inwardly, wrinkling the bridge of his nose. There had been plenty of times when he had chosen not to use magic. But this—being unable to use it at all—was a first.
He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness he’d never experienced before.
Meanwhile, the assailants continued to close in, attempting to completely surround them. One of the men, seemingly wary of Mikhail with the drawn sword, pointed his index finger at him and shouted.
[You there. Drop the sword.]
Luce didn’t understand the language the man was using, but he could vaguely guess what was being said. He lightly grabbed Mikhail’s arm and shook his head.
“Don’t ever drop your weapon.”
He whispered firmly. Who knew how things would turn out? Giving up their only means of defense so foolishly was out of the question.
“……”
Mikhail glanced sideways at Luce and tightened his grip on the sword. His thoughts were just as tangled.
They were outnumbered, sure—but if he were alone, he might have risked fighting his way out. With the knights waiting at the base of the mountain, retreating toward them or signaling for help might’ve still been an option.
But taking on seven enemies while also protecting an unarmed Luce…
That was simply impossible. Mikhail’s gaze sharpened. He needed to find an escape route.
[You understood what I said, didn’t you?]
“……”
In this situation, dropping his sword would be no different from surrendering. They had fired arrows from a distance as a threat, but now, even face-to-face, they weren’t immediately going for the kill. That told Mikhail everything he needed to know. Their true target was likely the royal—himself.
They didn’t want to kill him—they wanted to take him somewhere.
Mikhail twisted his lips into a bitter smile as he locked eyes with the man, gripping his sword even tighter. There was no way he was going to let go of it.
Then it happened.
Shhhk—! A sharp blade sliced through the air, aimed straight at Mikhail.
The grating clash of two swords echoed through the forest. Several birds flapped away, startled, as if the woods themselves were protesting the intrusion. To block the attack, Mikhail had no choice but to pull back the arm he had extended in front of Luce. But that proved to be a miscalculation.
The assailant he was engaged with gave a slight nod to one of his comrades. Mikhail caught the signal and immediately called out.
“Luce!”
The man who had quietly snuck around behind Luce now lunged forward, arm outstretched.
[You don’t have time to be worrying about someone else, do you?]
Clang! The harsh scrape of metal on metal rang out as swords ground against each other. Mikhail gritted his teeth and twisted his arm, deflecting the attacker’s blade.
But Luce, having caught on to their scheme, swiftly moved backward and ducked low. Though he no longer had the power of a dragon, his agility was still a notch above that of a regular human. Years of indulgent games had, over time, honed his reflexes within a dragon’s body.
“Mikhail! Are you okay?”
“…More or less.”
But the situation hadn’t improved in the slightest.
No—in fact, it had only gotten worse.
The leader of the assailants had caught on to the fact that Mikhail was concerned about Luce. With the exception of the one currently engaged with Mikhail, the rest turned their attention toward Luce.
Tch. Luce wrinkled his nose again and prepared to buy as much time as possible. He locked eyes with Mikhail. At that moment, Luce tried to convey a detailed, wordless message with just his gaze: “I’ll buy us some time, so take that guy down, get to the bottom of the mountain, and bring back the escorting knights.”
“……”
But Mikhail was staring back at him with a deeply furrowed brow—his expression filled with worry. It was a look Luce had never received nor tolerated before, not with his pride as a dragon. Granted, if he took a sword to the gut, it would absolutely be fatal in his human body…
Just as Luce gave him a subtle head motion that clearly said, “What are you waiting for? Go!”—
[Are we taking this one too?]
The man with the thuggish face standing right in front of Luce asked the leader.
Hmm… The leader paused to consider the question.
[He wasn’t part of the plan. But let’s use him as a hostage for now. If he gets in the way, feel free to kill him. What matters is the silver-haired one.]
Mikhail’s expression changed instantly upon understanding the words. He drew a deep breath. In this situation, getting Luce out had to be the priority.
[Hey.]
Mikhail exaggerated his movements, relaxing his grip and showing his open palms to the assailants. With a sharp clang!, Fellen Deeps’ sword clattered to the ground.
Luce, who had been bracing for an attack, turned his head toward Mikhail at the sound.
[You got what you wanted. Now let him go.]
Mikhail’s voice was calm as he attempted to negotiate.
“……Are you out of your mind?”
Luce’s eyes went wide as he shouted. Without the sword, Mikhail didn’t have the strength to take on seven men—he had less power than a Darfeng’s horn. What the hell was he thinking? But Mikhail stared straight at the leader, as if he hadn’t heard Luce at all.
The leader looked at him, touched his finger to his chin, and grinned. Not bad. Got some guts on him. He raised his hand and signaled to a subordinate behind him with a flick of his finger.
[Good. That makes things a lot easier. Don’t worry—we’re not going to kill you.]
The hell does that mean? Mikhail’s brow furrowed.
All the assailants who had seen the signal pulled something out from within their garments and smeared it across their cheeks.
One after another, a red symbol appeared on each of their faces.
“Urgh…”
Suddenly, Mikhail’s vision blurred, and a hazy stupor settled over him. Shit. Some kind of magic? He struggled to keep himself upright, trying to resist the magic’s effect. But without a nullification spell, it was impossible to withstand.
One of the assailants stepped in and caught Mikhail as he slowly collapsed.
The leader quickly strode over to check the “merchandise.”
[Silver hair and red eyes that pure? This is a real catch. Good thing we tailed him all the way to Hildeke.]
He beamed as he spoke.
[He’s not actually royalty, right? Though, judging by the escort knight, he must be nobility.]
[What would royalty be doing in a mountain village like this? Besides, they said we’d get a bonus even if the bloodline’s only slightly royal. Works out better for us.]
[Can I keep this sword?]
[Sure, sure.]
The leader chuckled to himself and ordered them to bag the silver-haired youth.
[Whoa, this one’s no joke either. He’s got that noble air all over his face.]
One of the men muttered after pulling off Luce’s robe to check his face.
[Be extra careful not to scratch him. Ones like him sell for a lot more.]
The leader gave a low oooh of approval and nodded. A man next to him squinted and muttered under his breath. There was something oddly familiar about that face.
[I think I saw this face on the town bounty list…?]
[Bounty?]
Now that was a word the client would love to hear.
The leader looked down at Luce’s face, then suddenly snapped his head up. A glint danced in his eyes.
***
“……ce!”
Who’s calling out like that, so desperately?
There was only darkness. Luce’s eyelids twitched slightly, as if trying to pry themselves open wider.
“Luce!”
From within the all-encompassing darkness, a voice rang out. It was Mikhail’s voice. Luce’s extended index finger twitched. Luce—that was the name he used during his games.
With a pained groan, Luce slowly lifted the eyelids that had been shut tight.
A sharp burst of light stabbed into his vision, and after a moment, the surrounding environment came into focus.
“Are you alright?”
“Ugh…”
Luce groaned, pressing his hand to his throbbing temple. But the room he lay in was far from bright. And it was even further from being cozy or comfortable. At best, it resembled an abandoned storage shed.
“……Huh?”
As soon as he regained awareness, Luce checked his condition. He was lying on the floor like a discarded sack, in a dark room with no windows.
“Where… where am I?”
His ears still rang with a high-pitched whine, making his head pound.
Trying to sit up, Luce winced and immediately collapsed back down with a groan.
It was magic.
And not the kind with any concern for the person on the receiving end. Brutal and unrefined—just the worst kind of spell.
