The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

I had been careless.

I never used any secret techniques and hadn’t even infused mana into it.

I simply thought it looked like a dark sword to others.

But this man clearly said he wanted it.

Wanted to buy the Demonic Sword from me…

“What are you talking about?”

I naturally retorted.

“There’s no need to beat around the bush. There are only two of us in this city who know that your sword is a Demonic Sword,” he said.

If he had decided to buy it, he wouldn’t flaunt it. The issue was how he recognized it as a Demonic Sword.

I instinctively hid one hand behind my back.

If need be, I could use “Persona of Shadows” to make everything vanish and then kill him.

“Haha! You’re very cautious. I understand. Let me explain why I’m convinced your sword is a Demonic Sword.”

He suddenly stopped the flow of magic that had been rising.

There was no need to use it if he could explain with his words.

“Go on.”

Morris continued without hesitation.

“I originally worked for the Albas Merchants Association, a large organization. Two years ago, the leader of that organization, Zikermann Albas, was murdered by an unknown assassin. Afterward, I left the organization and established my own. Since then, I’ve gained enough influence in this city to be called a ruler.”

Zikermann Albas.

The name sounded familiar.

He was the man who tried to sell Nana, who was still asleep in the egg.

I never knew he was under a merchant’s umbrella.

Ironically, he was right in front of the criminal who killed his former leader.

“I’ve always been interested in weapons, including swords. I’ve seen swords from all over the continent. To exaggerate a bit, I’ve seen all the swords made by human hands. Among them, there are only two swords I haven’t seen: the Holy Sword and the Demonic Sword. Weapons created not by humans, but by the power of gods. Although their existence is uncertain, I believe they must exist in this land, and I’ve been collecting information about them.”

There was a strong sense of pride in his tone.

“Today, I finally saw one! For hundreds of years, hidden in the mist of the unknown, the resplendent figure of the Demonic Sword has finally appeared! My eyes are not mistaken! It’s what I’ve longed for!”

I didn’t want to judge, but Morris might be the epitome of what the Demonic Sword would desire.

He seemed perfectly insane, ready to devour anything.

“Even if you didn’t know it was a Demonic Sword, it doesn’t matter! Sell me that sword! I’ll pay whatever price you want! If you want another sword, I can provide you with the finest swords! Just name it! If you can give me the Demonic Sword, I can give you anything!”

The mist emanating from the sword wrapped around my body like fog.

Just to clarify, it wasn’t me who did it.

The other participant in this conversation was heralding his manifestation…

[Long time no see. Did this insignificant human recognize me?]

Without any room for a reaction, Kaeram, who successfully manifested, appeared on my shoulder.

“Hoo…”

Morris looked at Kaeram with a face full of reverence.

“As expected! The divine weapon indeed has a soul! It’s truly an honor to meet the illustrious Demonic Sword in person.”

Now she’s deliberately trying to put me in a difficult situation.

“What are you doing?” I

asked, shooting her a look of discomfort.

[Regardless, I can’t stand not being included in the conversation about me.]

Thankfully, there were no others around to witness this, but this could lead to a very awkward situation.

[Alright. I’ll ask one thing. Given your physique, you don’t seem capable of handling me flying around in glory. So, what exactly do you want with me?]

I was curious too.

With just that body of his, he couldn’t possibly fly around, and judging from the atmosphere, there he seem to be wanting to sell it.

Why would someone who couldn’t even use a Demonic Sword want it?

“Yes, as someone who doesn’t handle swords, I won’t be able to wield you freely. But, I’d like to ask a question in return. Do I need to handle you? Can’t the Demonic Sword handle me? You can take everything I have. My money, power, even my body! You just need to grant me a little favor!”

[Favor? Specifically, what are you talking about?]

Morris answered Kaeram’s question with a joyful smile.

“It’s nothing much! After all, aren’t you a god? A noble god! If you kindly pet this insignificant human…!”

*Swoosh!*

“Keck!”

His excited babbling was abruptly cut off as his throat was suddenly seized.

Did Kaeram grab him?

No, I did.

I think I know what that bastard’s intention was when he approached me.

[……?]

Kaeram seemed quite taken aback by my actions.

Do you know one of the things I hate the most?

It’s when people talk nonsense with a face full of joy, as if they truly believe that what they’re saying will happen to them.

How does someone live their life to have such nonsensical values validated?

Favor from a Demonic Sword?

How does someone come up with something so absurd?

What does he see me as, and her, to say something like that?

It’s aggravating to the point where I’d want to live life again just to avoid it.

“P-please spare…”

He struggled in agony, but my grip didn’t seem to loosen.

“W-what’s going on?”

Sensing the disturbance, guards rushed into the corridor.

Kaeram naturally concealed herself, and just as the guy was about to pass out, I released his throat.

*Gasp!*

“Morris!”

Guards who seemed to be his escorts rushed in to support him.

Some drew their swords in response to me being wary, but Morris, barely regaining his senses, halted their actions.

“Stop! Everyone put away your swords……!”

His disgusting smile still lingered.

“It seems the owner is a bit excited. He seems to hold that being in high regard…”

I didn’t respond.

“I’ll come visit again next time. Please consider my proposal…”

In about a second, I deliberated greatly.

Whether to just tear off that abominable piece of trash’s throat right now or not.

In the end, instead of killing him so easily, I figured it would be better not to.

Morris hastily fled the scene, as if escaping from a danger zone.

* * *

– *Squeak*

The iron door opened urgently, and Lisa’s face showed signs of urgency.

Inside the room, as if waiting for her, a woman was seated.

“You seem to have a lot to say, Lisa?”

While the woman wore a relaxed smile, Lisa’s expression seemed uneasy.

“There’s no need to say it explicitly. You must be wondering why the rules of the match changed without your knowledge, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Lisa didn’t deny it.

“Does Lady Lindsay have a special reason for changing the rules herself?”

At the mention of reasons, the woman’s smile grew wider.

“Well, in this case, it might be better to talk about the conviction gained from that reason rather than discussing the reason itself.”

She spoke somewhat cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you curious? That infamous man lost the use of one arm without even throwing a punch. Who is that boy to display such unbelievable moves?”

Zion was clearly an extraordinary presence, capable of knocking down grown men with just one punch, displaying movements even beyond what ordinary people could imagine.

More importantly, what he had shown so far was by no means his full potential.

By now, not just her, but anyone who had seen him would have questions.

“Has Lady Lindsay found an answer to that?”

Lisa stared at her with clear eyes and asked.

“Let me ask you in return. Lisa, do you think you could remember the boy’s face?”

“His face?”

There was no way she could forget.

Wasn’t it the face she had seen every day for the past week?

She had just seen him a moment ago.

Unless there was a memory impairment, there was no way she wouldn’t remember.

But oddly enough, Lisa’s face twisted in confusion.

“I, I can’t remember…”

Although she remembered everything clearly, from his head to his eyes, nose, mouth, voice, and manner of speech, the image of his entire face didn’t come to mind.

The woman smiled mysteriously, as if she expected this.

“It’s a technique called *Shadow*.”

It was a technique name Lisa had never heard before.

“In simple terms, it’s a trick that uses a specific power to prevent others from remembering one’s face. So even though there is undoubtedly a memory, it doesn’t come to mind.”

“I’ve never heard of such a technique!”

“You wouldn’t have. It’s a technique that only permitted beings known as ‘Mists’ in this land can use…”

Lisa’s pupils shook heavily for a moment.

“Wait… Did you say ‘Mists’?”

* * *

“AAAHHH!”

*Bam bam bam!*

A man’s screams mixed with unidentified noises echoed through the dump.

The guards could only watch in silence, unable to intervene.

In their eyes, there was a palpable sense of anxiety, not knowing when trouble might erupt.

*Crash! Thud! Whoosh!*

This time, instead of just noise, there was a very unfamiliar sound reverberating.

It was so harsh that it sent shivers down the spines of those listening.

In fact, the guards, witnessing the scene, were so terrified that they avoided looking directly at it.

“Haah…”

Just when it seemed like the anger might subside, Gunther suddenly looked down and, upon seeing his missing right arm, let out another roar.

“Zion!”

The futile demeanor of before had disappeared from Gunther.

He was now filled with intense rage due to the tremendous humiliation of experiencing defeat for the first time.

“Calm down, Gunther! You might aggravate your wounds!”

“Shut up!”

Despite the guards’ protests, he paid them no heed.

“I have to kill him! I have to kill that bastard! Otherwise, I feel like I’ll die!”

But he knew.

No matter how he attacked, beating Zion was thoroughly impossible.

The wound on his throbbing arm seemed like a warning.

Suddenly, a crumpled cigarette pack came into view.

At that moment, Gunther recalled the encounter with Zion in the alleyway.

The boy whom he rescued from the torment of the thugs and was now said to be working in the Lambert cage.

A meaningful smile crept onto Gunther’s face as if he had thought of a plan.

“Right, no matter what, I just have to kill him. If you die and I live, that itself is the ultimate victory!”

He chuckled maniacally, running his fingers over the severed arm.

The ground was now stained with drying blood, a testament to the chaos that had unfolded.