Cheikan the Flea, an assassin from the Emerald Finger, was growing increasingly anxious.
How much longer?
The sun was now high in the sky, and the appointed hour was rapidly approaching.
There wasn’t much time left to assassinate High Priest Nicold Ibuton. The Emerald Finger was the oldest and most elite group of assassins in the western region, and they prided themselves on their reputation. Especially now, when they were under pressure from a new faction wielding sacred seal–engraved weapons, it was of utmost importance that they succeed in their mission.
All the pieces are in place. We simply need to find the target, execute the mission, and we’re done.
A winding alley stretched out before him, filled with a procession of approximately fifty guards. Twenty of them were his own meticulously recruited assassins. The penal hero unit’s recruitment campaign had proved the perfect camouflage for his men to slip in among the high priest’s security detail.
The twenty of us will have no issue overcoming the other thirty if we catch them off guard… Besides these are only volunteer soldiers. Most probably have no real combat experience. If anyone is going to prove a problem, it’ll be that man in the lead.
The one in charge here was Venetim, commander of the penal hero unit. He had split the hundred-man force in half and was personally leading fifty of them to check the high priest’s route for danger before regrouping. The other fifty, along with penal heroes Norgalle and Tatsuya, had been tasked with guarding Nicold Ibuton and should have already received the signal to start heading toward the rendezvous point.
Cheikan had arranged for the other members of the Emerald Finger to be assigned to this group to avoid a direct confrontation with Tatsuya, the peculiar man who was always at Ibuton’s side.
His plan was simple: They would stage a surprise attack to draw Tatsuya away—they only needed a few seconds—while another unit hiding within town would take out the high priest using a sniper rifle. It was a gamble, but a calculated one, and Cheikan was confident it was the best approach. If they could distract Tatsuya, the others would be powerless to stop them. After all, they were nothing more than a ragtag collection of adventurers and miners. They’d wait until the two groups met up and let down their guard, then stage their ambush and take out everyone in the ensuing chaos.
And yet there was something nagging at him. It was just a feeling, but that kind of intuition had saved Cheikan’s life on numerous occasions in the past. And now it was telling him that something was off.
“Hmm.” Venetim was studying a map for what seemed like the hundredth time. “We’re almost at the rendezvous point, everyone, so please stay vigilant.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d announced they were “almost there.” The first time he’d said it had been over two hours ago. In fact, Cheikan was fairly certain they’d been going in circles. It wasn’t uncommon to double-check a route for safety, of course. But this was…
Isn’t he being a little too careful?
Cheikan the Flea scanned his surroundings, unease prickling his gut. The rest of his men were starting to get restless as well. Were they picking up on the same tension in the air?
Something felt wrong. Perhaps this route was a trap designed to throw them off. It was possible their cover had already been blown, and they were being led into a carefully orchestrated maze to disorient them. He could see that suspicion written on the faces of the twenty men he’d assembled.
Cheikan decided he’d waited long enough. It was time to reveal the truth.
“…Excuse me? Venetim?” he muttered, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “Are we still not at the rendezvous point? I feel like we just went down this alleyway a few moments ago.”
“I’m just being cautious,” Venetim answered, forcing himself to remain calm. “Due to the complicated nature of this stretch of the route, it’s highly likely an ambush could occur here. It’s of utmost importance that I carefully check for traps and potential enemies hiding in the shadows.”
“Yes, but…” Cheikan refused to back down. “We have already searched every nook and cranny, so I don’t think there’s any need to worry. Unless there is something else concerning you?”
“Hmm, yes.” Venetim nodded, his gaze fixed on the sky as if he were checking the time of day. “I suppose this is enough. We will leave the alley and wait out in the main street.”
His tone suggested that the meeting point had always been intended to move according to the situation. It seemed the penal heroes had some kind of sophisticated communication device utilizing a sacred seal that only they could use.
“You’re saying we’re gonna wait on the main street?”
The man who spoke up this time wasn’t Cheikan but a rugged-looking man standing by his side. He wasn’t a member of the Emerald Finger, though. He had a prominent scar marring his chin, and Cheikan figured he was some washed-up adventurer.
“Is that where we’re meeting up with the others? I’m exhausted.”
“Yes,” said Venetim. “We will wait there until High Priest Ibuton arrives. Is that okay with you all?”
“Roger that.” The scarred adventurer nodded, then he turned toward Cheikan. “…Guess this is as far as you go.”
Cheikan felt a prickle of unease at the man’s low tone of voice. Something was off.
Everyone in the group seemed wary of one another, each of them eyeing the others with suspicion. But before he could analyze the situation further, Cheikan’s body began to move on instinct. It was a reflex difficult to explain with words, but a primal sense of danger caused him to kick off one of the alley’s walls and leap into the sky.
“Tsk.”
The scarred man hissed. He’d just missed slicing Cheikan’s abdomen with the blade of his sword. Another man, sensing an opportunity, lunged forward with his own blade, targeting the spot where Cheikan was about to land, but Cheikan simply dodged. As he did so, he let out a soft breath, expelling a tiny needle hidden in his mouth that struck the man’s eye with deadly accuracy. This hidden weapon, like the bite of a flea, was where he’d gotten his nickname.
As his opponent clutched his eye, Cheikan plunged his dagger into the man’s neck, finishing him off. But who was he fighting?