A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 386

"The Dagger of Geor turned out to be nothing more than a fool who relied on the power of relics to run wild."

The long-armed assassin spoke as he spun a dagger in his hand. One of his eyes glowed.

A mystic eye—an enchanted prosthetic.

It was no surprise the relic hadn’t worked on him. That eye had looked strange from the start. He remained unfazed.

Jaxon also noticed the hole in his cloak—a mark left by the passing dagger.

His opponent’s arm had extended unnaturally, slashing through his cloak before retracting.

Yet, there was no disturbance in his expression. Inside or out, he remained indifferent.

But his opponent didn’t see it that way.

"You seem shaken. You should have stabbed when you had the chance."

The white-haired man with a monocle spoke in a chastising tone.

"Is there really any reason to stay under him? Change your mind now."

It was a woman’s voice, deliberately altered. She spoke from within the group of assassins, but not openly—she whispered from the shadows, cautious and deceitful.

Even if he switched sides here, he would gain nothing. It was a ploy to make him hesitate.

"What? A stab? Aren’t you embarrassed to bring that up?"

The monocled man bristled at the taunt, clearly provoked.

"So, what now? You’ve lost your relic. What’s your plan?"

The voice came from behind.

Jaxon turned his head.

Even in broad daylight, the area where the voice emerged felt unnaturally darkened.

A figure lingered between the alley’s shadows, half-submerged in darkness—his specialty was hiding.

The method was obvious.

Shadow Walking.

A technique that allowed movement only through patches of darkness—an entry-level skill in the Dagger of Geor.

Jaxon had learned it but never used it. Against an opponent with sharp senses or heightened awareness, it was a liability.

'That wouldn't work on the captain, either.'

It wouldn’t work on Enkrid, either.

Jaxon quietly removed his tattered cloak and unbuckled his belt.

"Giving up?"

The altered voice inquired from the assassins.

"Hoho. What do you say? It's not too late. The privilege of the young is having the chance to reconsider their choices."

The monocled man smiled.

"Hmph."

The long-armed assassin, who resembled a monkey, snorted.

The man in the shadows subtly shifted backward, blending into the alley’s darkness once more.

Despite their words, the oppressive aura pressing against his skin was unmistakable.

They were ready to fight.

Jaxon kept his gaze lowered and spoke.

"So it was Viscount Mernes, after all?"

It had to be a noble—only someone of that stature could gather multiple assassin guilds under the banner of "alliance."

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