The Unyielding Assassin

Within the oppressive darkness of the cellar, the clang of metal echoed ceaselessly. After the ‘clash-clash’ of sword and dagger ceased, it was replaced by the ‘whoosh’ of fists and feet cutting through the air. Finally, a burst of crimson light flared within the cellar. One figure unleashed a whip-like punch, followed instantly by the other hand striking their opponent’s chest with a dark, swift blow. The red flash vanished as quickly as it appeared, and everything once again receded into the shadows.

****

“Hah… hah… you are the most troublesome opponent I’ve ever faced. You’re practically a jumping, bouncing monkey.” Sweat beaded on Noren’s forehead. Despite her exceptional stamina, the prolonged, all-out struggle with the Thin Man left her quite breathless.

“Monkey? Never heard of such a thing,” the Thin Man retorted, collapsing onto his side. Noren wasn’t wrong; he was indeed troublesome, but that was all. After twenty exchanges of weapons, his wrist had dislocated, rendering him unable to fight and leaving him only to dodge.

Perhaps the blonde woman, seeing his defeat was inevitable, intended to capture him barehanded. Yet, his own speed was ghost-like, and though her punches were swift as lightning, he had no trouble evading them.

Just as he contemplated escape, the ruby on her chest emitted an intensely bright flash, momentarily blinding him. In that split second, his footwork faltered, leading to his defeat. With both legs fractured, he could no longer stand.

“Cough… just kill me,” the Thin Man rasped, painfully coughing up a mouthful of blood. Beyond his fractured legs, Noren’s palm strike had inflicted severe internal injuries upon him.

Though his father had endowed him with a Herculean physique, congenital deformities, rickets, malnutrition, and demonic possession—a confluence of factors—had stunted his physical development. Even with the ‘Herculean’ trait mentioned by Big Brain, he was only marginally stronger than someone inheriting a ‘sturdy’ trait, and his bone density seemed even inferior to that of an ordinary person.

“Kill you? Hmph!” Noren scoffed, a sneer gracing her lips. She observed the Thin Man’s face, etched with an expression of fatalistic resignation, and felt a profound disdain welling within her.

Gazing at the nicks on her sword, caused by the dagger, she stated in an even tone, “Death isn’t so easily granted. I’ll keep you alive until you’ve told me everything.”

“By the way, how many accomplices did you bring?” Noren surmised this fellow was undoubtedly part of a group; his subordinates were likely clashing fiercely with Tolke and the others outside.

The blonde maiden slid her sword back into its sheath. She suspected this gaunt oddity before her was likely the leader of his faction, their strongest fighter. The rest, she presumed, would be nothing more than weaklings and cannon fodder, easily handled by Tolke, Hafdan, and Wiz—the Norsemen waiting outside.

“Hoh-hoh… *phlegm!*” Hearing the blonde maiden’s question, the Thin Man let out a weak chuckle, which only exacerbated his internal injuries, causing him to spurt out another mouthful of foul blood.

“Accomplices? There are no accomplices,” the Thin Man rasped, his grotesque, deformed face now smeared with blood, making him appear even more chilling. He stretched one side of his mouth into a ghastly grin, revealing his back molars. His teeth glowed a vivid red, whether from the crimson light or stained by his own blood, Noren couldn’t tell.

Noren’s brow furrowed slightly. “No accomplices?”

She wasn’t entirely convinced, yet she believed him halfway. The Thin Man’s ability to contend with her for so long demonstrated immense martial prowess. Even the brown bears of the Sudeten Mountains couldn’t withstand eight or nine of her punches. For this Thin Man to exchange twenty blows with her, he was at least on par with a brown bear. It wasn’t entirely implausible for such an assassin to operate alone.

After a swift turn of thought, Noren was almost convinced by the Thin Man’s dubious claim. She said, “You were sent by Kunar, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know any Kunar. How could a high-and-mighty mayor like him possibly know a monster like me?” the Thin Man countered evasively.

“Hmm, it seems I was right,” Noren nodded. The Thin Man’s origins were precisely as she’d suspected: an assassin in Kunar’s employ.

“Why would you try to assassinate me? I have no quarrel with Kunar, do I?” Noren asked the Thin Man, genuinely puzzled.

“It wasn’t Kunar, I truly don’t know any Kunar…” The Thin Man continued his evasions, treating Noren like an imbecile.

“Alright, alright, you don’t know him. Then why are you trying to kill me?” Noren rolled her eyes with practiced grace, placating him with a touch of exasperation before rephrasing her question to the Thin Man.

“Because you possess the treasure I seek, hoh!”

“Treasure?” Noren instinctively clutched the blood-red gem on her necklace, a flicker of anxiety sparking within her.

“Indeed, hoh! Treasure! Cough!” The Thin Man shrieked, once more spitting out a mouthful of foul blood.

“What treasure?” Her expression tightened, fearful that Kunar was after her Bloodstone. ‘If the mayor knew she possessed such an artifact, it was likely all the upper nobility of Bohemia would soon know as well. Would she ever find peace again?’

“Hoh~ I won’t tell you~ Nya-nya-nya~” The Thin Man cackled, sticking out his repulsive, long tongue.

Fury flared within Noren. Her face darkening, she stepped forward and pressed her foot down on his fractured legs, applying pressure.

“Aoooowww!”

The Thin Man let out a monstrous shriek of agony, his cries echoing through the cellar.

“Ready to talk now?” Noren cracked her knuckles, the sharp ‘snap-snap-snap’ reverberating ominously.

“Won’t talk, won’t talk, won’t talk! Make you furious!” The Thin Man was as stubborn as a recalcitrant child, utterly refusing to concede.

Noren swept her hair back with both hands.

“Still won’t talk, eh?” One kick!

“Doesn’t hurt, doesn’t hurt!”

“Doesn’t hurt, you say?” Two kicks!!

“Truly doesn’t hurt! Just tickles! Really tickles!”

“Tickles, does it?” Three kicks!!!

The Thin Man fell silent. He had passed out.

“Tsk,” the maiden clicked her tongue. ‘Why is this assassin so unyielding? Do medieval European assassins possess such unwavering loyalty?’

Looking down, she saw both of the Thin Man’s legs were utterly shattered by her kicks, blood gushing forth uncontrollably.

“Ugh, I suppose I should bandage him. Keep him alive for now, extract his reasons, then kill him.” The maiden was utterly vexed. She recalled how easily that hook-nosed Jewish scoundrel, Ogmund, had broken during torture, confessing everything by the fifteenth slice of her blade. Who would have thought that a deformed monster from Olomouc could possess such a formidable will and stubborn temperament?

However, Noren’s current vexation wasn’t solely due to the assassin’s obstinacy; she harbored another, deeper concern.

Noren cradled the Bloodstone in her hands, sighing helplessly. “Oh, Bloodstone, tell me, have I ever displayed you in public since I acquired you? No, right? Then why would a mayor from a town over a hundred miles from Opava know about you?”

‘Could these medieval noblemen possess some unknown method for locating artifacts?’

The maiden grumbled, pouting slightly. “It seems I’ll have to kill another mayor, Kunar. If he’s revealed your existence to others, then I can hardly be blamed. Only the dead truly keep secrets.”

“Oh, bother! I’ve been so engrossed in my own thoughts, I forgot to bandage him!”

The maiden hastily set about bandaging the Thin Man, lest the grotesque fellow bleed out. There were still questions she needed answered!