Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 62

With that cold, merciless statement, the two assassins moved. Naturally, Karen struck first. The wounded Mole was a beat too slow to react.

Her shadow stretched out into six long spears. The shadows, controlled directly by her, were Aura Weapons in themselves. Merely brushing against them meant a fatal wound.

Each strike held the power to rival a knight’s full-force lance charge. Recognizing the danger, the Mole’s face turned deathly pale.

“Impaler...! So you’re serious, Keeper.”

How many corpses had been pinned to the wall from that skill over the years? It was once a name that instilled fear in the criminal underworld.

The Mole summoned all his strength, holding nothing back. He knew Karen’s strength better than anyone. He hadn’t been confident against her even during his prime—hesitating now would only shrink his chances of escape.

Dripping cold sweat, his gaze locked onto hers. Karen’s voice was emotionless.

“Is this rebellion?” she asked.

“What...?”

At her incomprehensible words, the Mole blinked. Karen answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I gave you an order.” Then, taking a step forward, she said softly, “To die.”

At once, the six shadow spears launched. She skewered every possible angle, leaving no room for evasion.

The Impaler was an unavoidable technique that needed to be dodged—a contradiction. Knowing its lethal power, the Mole swiftly reversed his grip on his sword. His scimitar glowed a dull brown as it swung to meet the incoming shadow, but the barrier of Aura he raised to block them shattered to pieces.

“Gah!”

Shoved back ten steps, the Mole coughed up blood. Even with the famed defense of Earth-type Aura, his wall broke in a single blow, and as if that wasn’t enough, he sustained internal injuries.

This was the pinnacle of an assassin’s art: a combat style that crushed all with overwhelming offense.

“How many more can you survive?” Karen muttered as her emotionless eyes narrowed.

She reached forward again, and this time, more spears emerged from her shadows—eight.

The noose of shadows slowly tightened, applying relentless pressure without any openings. Her goal wasn’t a swift kill, it was complete destruction.

Even before the second wall of Aura could form, Karen followed up with thrown daggers. The Mole rolled across the ground, barely avoiding the blows.

“Still moving well, are we? Let’s add two more.”

Karen’s advantage didn’t waver. Ten spears rained down. Bleeding, wheezing, the Mole barely managed to dodge the shadow assault and the follow-up knives.

A single misstep would have killed him. A single misjudgment would have ended it.

Feeling the scythe of death brush his neck for the first time in years, the Mole realized something: his instincts—dulled over four years—were finally waking up.

“Hah... this isn’t even funny...” he muttered and laughed through a twisted grimace.

The more his assassin instincts returned, the more he understood how hopeless of a situation he was in. He was facing an assassin far beyond his level, and her relentless siege gave him no chance to escape.

They say the only counter to an assassin is a stronger assassin. It was true.

One of Karen’s daggers lodged in his elbow, nearly severing his left arm. Even his Earth-type Aura couldn’t mitigate the damage as the difference in skill was just too vast.

Without hesitation, the Mole amputated the mangled arm and clamped down on the artery to stop the bleeding.

Even after taking a grave wound, his response was flawless. An assassin viewed their body as a tool. Though four years had dulled him, his core hadn't changed.

“Keh... Kehehe...”

The Mole began laughing despite the pain. He said, “Damn, you’re strong. I knew it when you took out the boss, but you really are a monster.”

“What, you want to leave behind some last words?”

“If I do... will you listen?”

Karen didn’t answer. She simply lowered her hand slightly. She was still poised to strike, but the suffocating pressure lifted just a little.

The Mole noticed and lowered his sword arm. If Karen really wanted to kill him, there was no point resisting anymore. It was better to speak his mind than die flailing.

“Why, Karen? Why did you do it?” the Mole asked as he stared at her, half-lidded eyes filled with resignation. “You and I were the same, weren’t we? You weren’t orphaned in a tragedy. You weren’t kidnapped. They picked us up and made us strong. Why did you hold a grudge? Let’s say you killed the boss because you hated him. Fine. But you didn’t have to destroy the whole organization.”

“I never asked anyone to make me strong,” Karen said.

“Hah! Listen to yourself. If the Assassin’s Guild hadn’t picked you up, you’d have ended up a whore in the red-light district.”

He wasn’t wrong. Karen had thought that herself. However, just because she escaped the worst didn’t mean what she got was the best. The Mole had accepted the assassin’s life, so he’d never understand. Still, she didn’t dismiss him.

She replied calmly, “Up to that point, nothing in my life was mine. I didn’t choose to be an orphan. I didn’t choose to be an assassin. Even my strength wasn’t something I wanted—I just had it. So I decided to choose something for myself.”

“And what the hell was that?”

“Freedom.”

Karen’s answer stunned the Mole. His mouth hung open.

Karen continued, “To go where I want. Do what I want. I wanted that—something I never had. So I got rid of everything that held me back. The boss. The Guild. I was better off without them.”

“All that... for that?”

“To you, maybe it’s nothing. But to me, it was worth everything. So—are you happy with my answer?”

The Mole moved his lips for a moment, then grit his teeth and raised his blade. His killing intent was greater than before as if he had just discovered a wrongdoing he could never forgive.

“You goddamn bitch! You got your precious freedom, fine! But why the hell did you try to force it on us?! We didn’t need that! I’m not you! I could never be you! This was the only way we could survive!”

“...”

“If you were just gonna kill me, you should’ve done it back then! Do you have any idea how few of us can cut our own leash?! If you had killed us, we would’ve laughed and gladly died at your hands!”

“Yeah. I knew that,” Karen said as she raised her dagger in response.

This man was a piece of the past she had left behind. The Mole, raised as an assassin, was a creature of the shadows.

Just like a flea that was trapped in a bottle, even when the lid was removed, it still couldn’t jump higher than the glass. Though the Assassins Guild was gone, the Mole—soaked in darkness—could never return to the light.

“I know that this is the result of me turning my back on you all.”

Her dagger flared with teal Aura, and a wave of power pulsed from its tip. The brown Aura that the Mole radiated flickered like a candle in the wind.

Even without clashing, the disparity was clear. Despite that, neither assassin stepped back.

“It’s a little late... but I’ll finish what I started now,” Karen said.

At her words, the Mole gave a crooked grin. And with his only remaining arm, he charged straight at her.

“Keh... Haaah!”

He was burning up his very life force. Within a split second, his skin dried out and his Aura erupted violently.

It was a secret technique that allowed a single strike to surpass one’s limits. Any top-tier assassin possessed such a trump card.

Unfortunately, at the end of the attack that the Mole had poured everything into, Karen was nowhere to be found. Instead, a gaping hole had opened near his heart.

It was an absurd skill.

There was no warning, not even the sensation of pain. That meant it was so fast and powerful that he couldn’t even register it. The gap between a first-rate assassin and an elite one was greater than he’d imagined.

“Keh, heh...heh...”

Kneeling, the Mole smiled in satisfaction. With what little life he had left, he looked up at Karen’s back as his body slowly collapsed to the floor.

“Our strongest... You truly are... magnificent...”

At last, the Mole went still. Not even an assassin—no matter their tricks—could survive with their heart entirely destroyed. Karen stared down at him with bitter eyes.

That was when Leon, having finished off the rest of the bandits, approached.

“Karen, is it over?”

The fight had ended quickly. Apart from the Mole, the rest were unremarkable in both skill and unity.

Karen turned to him, gave a small nod and said, “Yeah. It’s over.”

An old tie, now severed as a bitter end. She didn’t even know the Mole’s real name. And now, there was no way to find out. Someday, she’d forget even his face—what weapon he used or how he moved. Still, she swore she wouldn’t forget everything.

Meanwhile, Hamel, holding the compass, located the stolen item.

“Hm, I think it’s this box.”

It looked no different from the other crates, but the compass needle pointed firmly at it. There were three crates in total that Mole had stolen, and the three decided it would be best to retrieve all of them.

“Let’s put them here.”

Karen extended the ring on her middle finger and absorbed all three crates into her subspace. Unlike Leon, few would dare target an A-rank adventurer’s storage ring.

It seemed to have plenty of room as the crates disappeared smoothly. With that, the pursuit request from the caravan leader was complete.

Plucking his bowstring like a guitar, Hamel grinned and said, “Alright, if we just get out of here, we’re done, yeah?”

Leon nodded at that—until something occurred to him, and he asked, “What about the rest of the bandits?”

“Eh, leave ’em. Didn’t seem like there was anyone else who could take command besides the boss. They’ll scatter in a month or two.”

“Still... just in case...”

Before Karen could intervene in the two’s discussion, the desert decided to provide them with a conclusion. A deep tremor shook the entire facility. Sensing the scale of the quake, the three of them locked eyes.

It’s gonna collapse.

They instinctively knew that the force was enough to bring down the whole underground structure.

Karen quickly flipped over the Mole’s corpse and saw that beneath it, the floor had sunken slightly inward. Whatever it was, it was clearly part of a mechanical mechanism.

“This son of a...!”

Apparently, the Mole had triggered the facility’s shutdown mechanism as a final act of spite. Forget the remaining bandits—none of that mattered anymore. The three of them turned and sprinted back the way they came.

The place had stood for over a hundred years, but that only meant it was over a hundred years old—poorly maintained and fragile. It wouldn’t be surprising if it collapsed at any moment.

“Run! And run fast!”

“If anyone’s in the way, just blow past ’em!”

Elite assassin or not, being buried alive in a collapsing dungeon was a worthless death. They dashed past bandits who were also panicking, their soles practically catching fire.

Those five minutes of full-speed sprinting were the longest five minutes of their lives. And just as that time passed by, the strange canyon caved in with a thunderous crash.

***

The sun was rising, and the mercenaries and adventurers who’d stayed up all night were exhausted. Unfortunately for them, Gustav’s sharp gaze was on them the whole time, so none dared slack off.

They could only hope the pursuit unit would return soon. Then—

“Huh? They’re back! The pursuit unit is back!”

Bolting out at the lookout’s words, Arnold shouted, “Is that true?!”

The mercenary nodded and pointed.

“There. Three people.”

“Oh! Oooooh!”

Three figures flickered on the horizon, growing clearer with every step. It was undoubtedly Leon, Karen, and Hamel, clearly exhausted and covered head to toe in dust.

Arnold, barely able to hide his anxiety, ran to meet them. Fear gripped him at the thought of the cargo having gotten away, of hearing just one dreaded word: “failed.”

Thankfully, his fears were immediately put to rest.

“All the cargo’s recovered. The bandit boss has been taken care of too,” Leon reported.

“Oh, my! Truly, thank you!”

When Karen showed him the three crates, Arnold nearly bent double to the ground in a bow. His response was only natural. After all, it had been one of the main goals of this expedition.

He promised he’d reward them and excused them from all duties for the rest of the trip. They could sleep until they reached their next destination.

“Phew. That was rough,” Karen said as she flopped down inside their carriage.

“No kidding. We must’ve run at least thirty kilometers,” Leon agreed, flopping down beside her.

Neither of them was injured, but the final sprint had sapped their stamina. The threat of hundreds, or even thousands of tons of falling rock had been terrifying.

Even A-rank Karen had turned pale—had they been caught, they would’ve been crushed instantly, Hero or not.

El-Cid laughed smugly, ignoring the mood.

—Nature’s power is mighty indeed. Though not as mighty as I am. Hurry up and learn to cut mountains in one stroke. Then you won’t lose your cool in situations like that.

Horseshit...

—We’re in the desert, bud. It’s camel shit, not horse shit.

...

Leon’s eyes glazed over at the lame pun. Still, after hearing so many, he recovered quickly and muttered to El-Cid.

Anyway... so much for investigating the canyon’s interior. No way we can dig it out now.

—Whatever was in there is probably crushed anyway. Don’t worry about it. It was hidden for over a hundred years. If the people behind it were that meticulous, they wouldn’t have left behind any clues.

I guess.

—Save it for later, like a true Hero.

Leon nodded and closed his eyes. Someday, he’d come face to face with that shadowy force, but he wasn’t in a hurry.

His consciousness gently faded. The chase from the night before had drained him.

Within minutes, Leon fell into a deep sleep. In the swaying carriage, the rhythm of his breathing mixed quietly with the jolting wheels.