Yala's Knife (Part One)

The children's testimonies were easy enough to piece together—in their eyes, Tales had been the hero who defeated Quade.

So the boy made up an excuse, tricking them into believing that Yala would arrange everything. No matter who came asking, they were to tell them directly, "Tales stabbed through Quade's neck."

This was the greatest—and last—thing Tales could do.

Only then would they be safe after the heat died down.

"I'll run far away," Tales said with a smile when they asked what he would do.

"They won't catch me."

As four- and eight-year-olds, Colia and Lane had little reason to doubt him.

In their eyes, Tales had always been capable of anything.

Only the slightly older Synti remained suspicious.

But Tales found a way to make him honor their agreement: "You think, I act."

Then it was time for him to hit the road—ptooey—time to set off.

As the boy carelessly waved to the other children and strode stylishly out of Sunset Tavern, Tales felt a faint sense of tragic grandeur in his heart.

Kids, I won't be able to take care of you anymore.

You have to be good.

If there's a chance, we'll meet again someday.

What a heavy farewell.

Tales thought silently.

After all, he had stepped forward when it mattered...

There was even something of winds soughing—huh?

Tales' eyes widened.

A pair of toned, slender legs swept past him from the side in brisk strides.

It was Yala, fully armed and expressionless.

"Hey! Weren't you supposed to stay in the tavern and look after the three of them?" Tales said urgently. "Without you, they—"

"Don't worry. I hid them in the Dark Chamber and left a note for Edmund."

Dressed in a dark gray bodysuit, Yala pulled a transparent visor down from her forehead.

With an unhappy look on her face, she pressed a hand to Tales' forehead and crouched beside him.

"But—"

"No buts, kid!" Yala cut him off decisively.

"If you're going to bear the Brotherhood's wrath alone, then go to Red Quarter to get yourself killed, I should at least see you off."

Yala patted the Wolf Leg Knife on her boot. "For this."

"Besides, a seven-year-old kid can't avoid the Brotherhood's hidden sentries. Even if I explained every detail a hundred times, you still wouldn't get past them."

Tales stared blankly at Yala. Only after three seconds did he squeeze out a sentence.

"But Red Quarter is in the middle of a war—"

"Stop wasting time. Get on, we're leaving!"

Yala offered no further nonsense and disdained explaining herself. Her proud expression forced Tales' hesitation back into the depths of his mind.

Get on?

Get on where?

Tales stared dumbly at Yala, who had dropped to one knee.

This sharp, short-haired older sister already had a fiery figure, and the tight bodysuit only emphasized every curve. If he was going to be held by her...

At that thought, Tales lowered his head shyly and scratched his hair.

Thump!

"Ah! That hurts!"

Yala jabbed a fierce finger into the center of Tales' forehead again, striking hard enough to shake his entire worldview.

"Stupid brat, stop thinking such nonsense!"

As if she had seen through Tales' thoughts, Yala drew the Wolf Leg Knife halfway from its sheath. Behind her visor, her eyes practically screamed that she was not to be trifled with.

"Get on my back! I'm carrying you!"

The moon gradually sank westward, and the long street lay dim and black.

But that was nothing to Redmore.

With his night vision ability, everything before him was as bright as day.

Redmore hid behind the corner of a dark alley. As a professional hidden sentry, he had a clear view from this angle of the crossroads leading to Red Quarter.

Under tonight's curfew, the area was deserted.

"Most of our elite went to Red Quarter today, so stay alert. This is the last intersection leading to the battlefield," he said flatly.

It was also the first intersection the Brotherhood would pass through during their retreat, Redmore thought silently.

His companion, another Brotherhood hidden sentry, stood behind him, keeping an equally vigilant watch over the other corner.

"No problem. I'm in top form. Not even a black fly can get through, not even a gray centipede can crawl over," his companion said darkly.

Redmore nodded at him and continued watching warily. "Good. My Vigilance Period is almost over. I'll go change shifts and bring Nasri over—he should have woken up an hour ago."

Just as Redmore prepared to leave the concealed alley mouth, he froze slightly.

Just now, he seemed to have sensed something.

There was something else in the empty alley ahead.

No. Impossible.

His ability was inborn, while his ears, eyes, and nose had all been trained by Lord Lancer. His senses were sharp enough to recognize every sort of visual disguise.

If there was an intruder, then unless they possessed a rare ability like mental influence, they could not escape his sight and hearing.

Yet Redmore still decided to take a look—he made a circuit around the other side and found nothing.

Only then did the Brotherhood scout relax.

His Vigilance Period must have ended. It was probably just an illusion.

He shook his head and went back to change shifts.

As Redmore turned and left, a short-haired woman in a black bodysuit silently appeared behind him.

A child clung to her back.

The uninvited guest—Barmaid Yala—watched Redmore's receding back. Then she bent low, pushed off, and lightly tapped the ground with her toes, silently and nimbly leaping out of the alley.

Toward Red Quarter.

"When dawn has not yet arrived and the long night has not yet ended, ordinary people's defenses and nerves are at their slackest."

"From the Security Team at the city gates to the noble dropouts of Royal Military Academy, everyone knows that."

For some reason, Yala could still speak while moving at high speed.

Tales clung tightly to Yala's back as she darted lightly and swiftly through the alleys.

She raced like the wind, yet landed without a sound.

The wind rushing at him forced Tales, who was clutching Yala's neck, to keep his eyes tightly shut.

He pressed his head against the back of the barmaid's neck, with no idea where he was or where they were going.

But Yala's voice still came through clearly.

"So Cobion Lancer, the Sleepless Eye and one of the Six Titans responsible for the Brotherhood's intelligence gathering, specially trained a hidden-sentry unit called The Sleepless."

"They do not truly never sleep. Their schedules are simply different from ordinary people's."

"I don't know their exact numbers, but every one of them follows a staggered schedule. From those who sleep at dusk and rise at night, to those who sleep at dawn and rise at noon, they cover every possible time."

"So through shifts, Lancer's hidden sentries ensure that every sentry on duty is in the part of their schedule when their energy is strongest and alertness highest. No flaws, no slackness. Lancer calls it the Vigilance Period."

"From their senses and experience to coordination and tracking, Lancer trained them to be better than even the purebred Rudolph Hounds of Vigilant Hall."

"One squad is stationed at headquarters. Normally, they disguise themselves among the crowd, living ordinary lives, gathering intelligence, and watching Vigilant Hall's sweeps against them. Whenever there is a major operation, they transform perfectly into hidden sentries, enough to monitor every intersection in Lower City District."

"The two people we just passed should have been The Sleepless' final posts before Red Quarter."

Tales said nothing.

Yala's swift movement had already shocked him enough—Redmore was not the only Sleepless they passed.

Whenever Yala reached a Sleepless sentry post, she would slow from a sprint to a walk.

Then came what amazed Tales most. Yala's movements entered a strange state.

She quietly followed behind the Sleepless, hiding both her body and shadow in the sentry's blind spot—sometimes in the blind spots of two Sleepless at once. She synchronized her steps and breathing to almost exactly their rhythm, so every sound and movement she made was covered at precisely the right moment.

None of the Sleepless noticed them at all.

Tales' original plan had merely been to have Yala lure away the hidden sentries. This was his first time hearing of The Sleepless, and his previous estimation of the Brotherhood had been far too shallow. Even that plan would have carried a risk of exposure.

Now it seemed he had still underestimated this barmaid.

She was not merely agile and skilled with a knife.

Yala, carrying the boy on her back, was also a little surprised.

From beginning to end, even while following directly behind a Sleepless who could spot them with a mere turn of the head, the child remained calm and composed. His heartbeat never changed, and even his breathing stayed steady.

For a seven-year-old boy, that was clearly a little too much composure.

Of course, if not for her special stealth rhythm, which perfectly masked the sound of the child's breathing, his supposedly steady breaths would have been noticed long ago.

Still, it was not easy.

This child... perhaps he had been tempered by years of street experience.

It couldn't possibly be natural, could it?

"We're here."

In a corner by the intersection, Tales slid lightly off Yala's back—reluctantly?

Before him lay Red Quarter in the night.

Its gates and walls stood tall, its streets were clean, its layout orderly, and a few of its buildings lavishly magnificent.

The scene from a few days ago, when he had encountered that goose-down-clad noblewoman here, remained vivid in his mind.

They cautiously slipped into an alley and advanced carefully.

Red Quarter was no smaller than Black Street, and it was a famous pleasure district in West Ring District.

In fact, many nobles visited this place often, from hereditary Counts and high-ranking officials around Central Territory to honorary Lords without inheritance rights from remote rural areas, along with civil servants. Some concealed their identities, while others came openly.

All in hopes of forming certain beyond-friendship relationships, voluntary or otherwise, with adorable and muddleheaded young men and women.

Of course, this was the understanding that many nobles had maintained with the Blood Bottle Gang for years.

But tonight, the Black Street Brotherhood had stretched its hand here.

And had not received the cake they wanted.

"The situation is bad," Yala said quietly as she walked forward.

Tales could see that much too.

In many of the alleys they passed, people lay scattered sparsely across the ground: some missing hands, some twisted grotesquely, some with intestines spilling out, some with breastbones turned outward...

Blood stained Red Quarter dark crimson beneath the night.

By a rough count, at least thirty people had fallen since they entered Red Quarter.

Even Tales, who had just killed someone, could not help drawing a deep breath at the sight of corpses everywhere and so many different ways to die. He tried to turn his head away and not think about them.

Faint, scattered sounds of fighting drifted from somewhere beyond the alley.

A second later, Yala suddenly reached out and calmly pressed a hand onto Tales' shoulder, pushing him into a concealed corner.

Tales looked back at her in confusion.

"The last time I killed someone seems to have been before I met you."

Yala sounded somewhat forlorn.

Tales could not see the eyes behind her visor, but he suddenly felt that Yala seemed serious now, and a little desolate.

"Kid, from this point on, you owe me a favor."

Tales froze, then saw Yala crouch down and touch the knife on her leg.

"Don't speak. Don't move."

The barmaid's warning was as soft as a mosquito's buzz.

"There's a real expert ahead, not useless sentries like The Sleepless."

"Blood is about to be spilled."

Tales shuddered, and goosebumps rose all over him.

Holding his breath, he felt a little dejected.

He had thought he could slip through Red Quarter alone amid the chaos and escape the Brotherhood.

But if there was a problem at the very first stop—sigh, he was still too naive.

The next second, Yala pulled a thick strip of black cloth from beneath her left abdomen and gently covered Tales' nose and mouth with it.

"Breathe through this. Hide your face, mask your voice and scent."

Yala said nothing more. Her expression was unreadable behind the visor as she slowly drew the knife from her leg and watched the alley ahead.

Tales pressed the black cloth tightly over his nose and mouth. Breathing through it did not feel stifling, and his originally heavy breaths were concealed.

It felt like... putting on an invisibility cloak?

But the next moment, Tales could no longer relax.

"I found him," Yala whispered.

The next second, she shot upward like lightning and kicked off the wall beside her!

Like an arrow loosed from a bow, the barmaid lunged toward a corpse at the alley entrance!

The only thing faster than Yala was the Wolf Leg Knife she hurled.

And Tales, breathing through the black cloth, discovered in astonishment that the corpse outside the alley...

Moved.

"Clang!"

A cold flash suddenly slashed out from behind the corpse, knocking the Wolf Leg Knife aside!

But the second Wolf Leg Knife was already in its owner's hand as Yala charged in.

It slashed at the corpse in an instant!

"Shhk—clang!"

Tales recognized the first sound: the sound of a metal blade piercing flesh.

But before he could realize what had happened, his vision blurred.

A figure stumbled out from behind the corpse.

A rapier clattered to the ground with him.

Yala landed lightly.

Her left hand touched the ground, while the blade in her right was covered in blood.

The figure who had been hiding beneath the corpse had already swayed and collapsed to the ground.

Without moving.

The Barmaid retrieved the Wolf Leg Knife that had flown away, then silently rose to her feet.

In just a few seconds, the boy hiding in the corner had watched with his jaw nearly dropping.

Tales knew Yala was strong.

But aside from the time she had slaughtered that vicious dog years ago, it was only today, after witnessing her swift charge and killing strike, that he truly understood the Barmaid's skill.

Yet Tales still made no sound and did not move.

He vaguely sensed that Yala was even more solemn now.

"What an eye-opener."

As the voice rang out, a huge, vicious-looking bald man emerged from outside the alley.

He carried an exaggerated five-faced spiked hammer on his shoulder as he walked through the blood covering the ground.

"Even among Mortal Tier fighters, you must count as quite an outstanding assassin."

The bald man did not even glance at his dead companion beneath his feet. He merely stared fixedly at the Barmaid in the middle of the alley.

"You know your Brotherhood is finished."

"You walked into an ambush and were wiped out—and you can't imagine what terrifying beings we have among our people tonight."

Yala said nothing, only slowly straightening up.

The vicious bald man gave a disdainful snort.

"Our task was to keep watch, or intercept any Brotherhood reinforcements that might come, but who would have thought..."

"After fighting all night, when things are nearly wrapped up, the mighty Black Street Brotherhood only sends a knife-wielding little girl."

The huge bald man stepped into the fading moonlight.

Tales could clearly see his face.

He was a man missing half his nose, his nostrils hideously flared outward, making him look like a skull.

Tales suddenly recognized him—just recently, the boy had used him as an excuse to escape Quade's torment.

Baldy Spin.

The Blood Bottle Gang's head collector of bad debts.

One of the Blood Bottle Gang's fabled "Twelve Supremes," whose name was whispered throughout the streets and alleys.