Two as One

Matos pulled out a silver-cased lighter and lit a cigarette. "I was too hard on you. Whatever you did, I always found a reason to lecture you. In the end, that's what made you the timid, indecisive person you are now."

"I'm already very old, Moke. I can't guide you for another ten years, so today, I'm going to make up for the mistakes I've made in the past!"

"Look, your target's here. Go take his head."

"And one more thing,"

Matos said in a low voice as he headed toward the rear carriage.

"That Vessel probably isn't Professor Beshe. His Secret Art is completely different from Professor Beshe's, but his fighting style doesn't feel like Aleppo's either. Be careful."

Legend had it that somewhere in the Southern Archipelago was a tribe called Marse.

The children of this tribe learned to hunt from their fathers until the age of fourteen. On their fourteenth birthday, they had to hunt a lion by themselves. Only then would they be considered capable of surviving on their own after leaving their fathers.

"I've spent my whole life training students, but he's the only rough diamond I've ever found."

"I refuse to believe I misjudged him. Even if I have to use this somewhat cruel method, even if it costs me my life, if it means this child can survive on his own after leaving me, then it'll all be worth it, Moke..."

Having secretly made up his mind, Matos watched a lump of black sludge emerge from his palm.

Like a balloon attached to an air pump, the sludge swelled and solidified within seconds, taking the shape of an utterly ordinary-looking person.

With a flicker, he blended into the noisy, numb crowd around him.

Including the ones I've already made, this is my limit...

Matos thought wearily. Then he stood and quietly disappeared into the crowd.

Two as One was Matos's Secret Art. Within twenty-four hours, it could create up to seven Balloon Men. Their appearances were entirely up to the caster, who could also control them all at once.

However, the Balloon Men could not stray more than fifty meters from the caster, and the farther away they were, the less precise his control became.

Though they had the strength of ordinary people, getting punctured quickly left them unable to move, so Balloon Puppets were not suited to hand-to-hand combat. Pair them with firearms, though, and that problem disappeared.

As long as he carried enough weapons, Matos alone was a whole gun squad.

Furthermore, as long as their outer skins remained intact and airtight, the puppets could control how much air they contained. They could even deflate themselves and squeeze through incredibly narrow gaps into a room to commit theft or murder.

That was how Matos had earned a place in the Elite Guard.

After leaving Sally upstairs, Lude went down to the restaurant's first floor, his sharp gaze sweeping over every customer.

Siana had once told Lude that no matter what kind of spell it was, spells that affected the caster were the easiest to perform, while those that affected the environment were more difficult.

Spells that directly forced their effects on another intelligent being, on the other hand, had the strictest requirements.

That was why most curse spells required something belonging to their target, such as blood or hair.

Not knowing the conditions for the Secret Art—and with the enemy already having Lude's blood—the best option was to cut off their head before they could use the spell or before it took effect.

But to cut off the enemy's head, he first had to figure out where they were.

Lude scanned the room, searching for anyone suspicious.

But whether it was the scruffy man, the freckled woman, the decrepit bald old man, or the child with snot hanging from their nose, everyone looked like a Balloon Puppet to him—and none of them did.

What do I do? I can't just kill them all, can I? Lude thought.

Just then, Lude's ear twitched. He caught a faint sound.

It was the sound of a hammer being pulled back. It came from...

In the next instant, two nearly simultaneous gunshots rang out along the entire street.

The sudden gunfire was like the starting pistol in a sprint.

In an instant, the men and women, young and old, in the restaurant descended into chaos. Screams, curses, and the sounds of people fleeing filled the air.

Amid the commotion, Lude fired a second shot without hesitation.

The bullet tore through the cold morning air, shattered the ear of a man trying to snatch the gun from Lude's hand, sliced through the long hair of a woman fleeing in panic, and finally struck an inconspicuous, gaunt man in the corner.

The man's head exploded into pieces. He was clearly another puppet.

But the moment Lude fired, a burly figure sprang up behind him and swung a fist at his lower back. Even to Lude, the man was fast—moving at a speed beyond human reaction.

Unfortunately, he was still too slow for Lude. Thinking this, Lude raised a hand and caught the incoming punch.

Ah—damn, that hurts!

The seemingly vicious punch had only been a feint. The real attack was a nail hidden between the man's fingers!

And the man was freakishly strong. He drove the nail right into Lude's palm.

Before Lude could react, the nail turned into countless gray threads. They slipped through the wound and into his body, sending an inexplicable chill through him.

Just then, a cold, sinister whisper suddenly sounded in Lude's ear.

"Three."

At the same time, Moke, having landed his attack, slipped without hesitation into the panicked crowd.

"Heh." Lude's lips curled upward. That was a good plan. Fire a shot to send the crowd into chaos, attack under cover of the confusion, then retreat immediately after landing a hit. You can tell he's a real pro!

Three... Did that mean the curse only took effect after three nails had been driven in?

It required the enemy's blood to make the nails, close range to drive them into the enemy, and three successful attacks to take effect. It did nothing to hinder the target's movements in the meantime—in fact, it even alerted them that they'd been attacked...

Siana had once said that the world followed one fundamental principle: the law of equivalent compensation.

The common rule behind all spells was that the more elaborate the ritual, the rarer the materials, and the more painful the sacrifice, the better the result.

And this curse had displayed so many constraints in a single encounter. Its effect was probably extraordinary.

A pair with a well-rounded strategy: the doubles gathered blood and harassed the target, while the curse delivered the killing blow.

This is a problem, Lude thought. The situation wasn't in his favor. His opponents' teamwork was flawless.

The balloon guy was practically a whole squad of gunmen by himself. Small-caliber bullets couldn't kill Lude, but they could effectively impede his movements. Once he was distracted, he'd be hit with a nail.

As for the nail guy, his close-combat skills were inferior to Lude's, but he could still hold his own against him.

By comparison, the nail guy was the bigger threat.

After all, Lude could force his way forward through a barrage of pistols, but three nails really could take him down.

Once he dealt with the nail guy, the other one—the guy who mass-produced inflatable girlfriends—would no longer be a threat.

Lude had been keeping one eye on the doors and windows around him from the start.

So far, apart from two women, no one had left the restaurant through any of them.

But if he wanted to pick the nail guy out of the crowd, he first needed to find a way to quiet everyone down.

With that in mind, Lude pulled the Obsidian Hall uniform from the Glazed Pouch and threw it over his shoulders.

Then he drew his pistol and fired three shots into the sky. "Everybody shut up—!!!"

The crowd fell deathly silent. They huddled around the unlucky man lying on the floor with blood covering his head, afraid to move either forward or back. In the end, all they wanted was to escape the restaurant.

Lude swept his gaze around the room and spoke in a booming voice. "Good. It seems you prefer violence to plain speech. I don't mind using that language to deal with you, either!"

"Open your damn eyes and take a good look! I'm Frank Radvasch, the King's envoy from the Obsidian Hall. Citizens of the Kingdom, I have bad news: a spy from the Khalid Sultanate is hiding among you!"

"From this moment on, anyone who causes a disturbance will be treated as a foreign spy and executed on the spot!"

"Now get down on the ground and crouch! Drop whatever you're holding and put your hands on your heads! Not a sound! And don't you dare stand up! Don't test my patience, or I won't hesitate to blow your heads off, you rabble!"

In an instant, the restaurant fell silent.