Journey to Become the Zenith

A Smile Before the Trap (Part 3)

In that brief moment, that minuscule thread of killing intent was enough.

A cold shiver ran down the assassin’s spine, turning him to ice.

His stomach actually turned.

His heart heaved painfully against his ribcage before abruptly stopping altogether.

In that one terrible moment of...

Got it.

No getting out.

Not today.

Not from the young man, who sat so placidly before us.

Most first grade assassins would have already made their decision. They would have crumbled the venom placed in their mouths or plunged a dagger into their own brains without a moment’s hesitation. Better to die than betray the organization.

But he had always been an outsider.

Loyalty didn’t matter to him.

That was merely another term.

For fools were convicted.

He had become an assassin in the simplest of places:

Money.

The type of money that could buy silk gowns, luxury wines, comfy mattresses and a life others could only fantasize of.

It was never about glory.

Just existing.

And to sum it all up...

Staring real death into the eyes...

He found something that even he was amazed.

He didn’t wish to die.

Has not occurred yet?

No, not like that.

Victor observed each minute alteration silently.

Bending of the fingers.

The slight tremor in his shoulders.

The manner in which the confidence in his eyes slowly dissolved into naked fear.

A gentle smile played on Victor’s face.

And then he eased himself back into the chair as if to say whatever, just another evening out at the tavern.

Informal, confident

Relaxed.

See also speech4.

Elegant.

Absolutely comfortable.

The oppressive pressure at their table only made that serenity more haunting.

"Now, now..."

His voice was warm and had an almost amused softness to it.

Surely it isn’t too early for you to be leaving?

His finger tap lightlyed the side of his unopened mug.

The crisp sound made its way politely between them.

Why don we go get another drink?

His smile was flandered that little bit more.

There are still a bunch of stuff...

"...I’d like to ask you."

The assassin stared with bright, unreadable golden eyes.

"... Mr. Assassin."

Those words were spoken so softly that they almost sounded like endearments.

In Annalone. Anderson, we shall quickly in annihon;

The tavern beamed blissfully unaware around them.

The table next to us chuckled as a group of drunken explorers bonked their tankards.

Artistes le fond de la salle avaient encore leur âne et leur grand et chantaientdéchargeant toutes sortes de sottises.dia8

Our waitresses navigated the packed hall and held aloft overflowing trays of ale, and make witty jokes with familiar haunt dwellers.

The long smell of roasted flesh and fresh bread, pungent smell of strong liquor came to my nostrils.

For everyone else...

Another one of these lively nights.

.but for the assassin..

Silence had descended on the whole world.

Their pupils contracted down to dots.

You could see the color lee from his face almost instantly. It was as if someone withdraw him all the blood.

He has a good idea...

He has actually an idea...

My breath started to get painfully shallow.

The unseen power holding him had not lost its strength.

If anything...

It had become too heavy.

An overwhelming amount of mana was not the only thing-.

It was definitely.

Totally, unwaveringly certain.

The predator that had already shaped itself to the contours of its prey’s escape route.

He wasn’t even threatening Victor.

He was not lying.

All he did was wait.

Just hanging around for the to come.

The assassin’s fists shut tightly beneath the table.

N/A92.

Panic would only hasten his death.

He survived a zillion impossible situations by taking the bare-boned truth to its most useless extreme.

Would have been no different.

It was a must.

Stroking his dry lips and managing a stuttering laugh, so painfully false he could hear it himself.

I’m... I think you have me confused with someone else.

He forced a strange smile.

Just a common citizen living in Fantom City.

Victor said nothing.

And he just lifts the mug in front of him and takes another random thank God free drink? None too hurried it seems.

It was only now, after putting the mug back down again, that he looked up once more.

Was a soft smile on his face.

"Really?"

His voice was laced with real curiosity, it sounded like a guy not quite believing the words he was asking over drinks.

"Then perhaps...""...I truly was mistaken."

The assassin’s stomach suddenly twists. A faint glimmer of hope began to shine through?for the very first time since he sat down.

Did...

Did he actually believe me?The thought had barely formed-

Victor nodded again.

"In that case...""Tell me."

What ordinary citizen would alter his face, subconscious mana control, elimination witness’s memories and spend the climax days not restoring the city, but hiding?

All the words hit us like a sledgehammer.

The assassin’s face was still...

And the next second, his mind burst into turmoil.

Nope!

How much does he know?Did someone betray me?Or did he figure it out himself?

He looked into the still golden eyes of Victor, for the tiniest indication.

There was no.

No anger.

Too old.

No pride.

Nothing but quiet certainty.

That certainty scared him more than any wrath had.

Victor placed both his hands on the table.

Just not in the mood to make you a fool.

"I’m also not eager to make a mountain out of a molehill."

His voice was too soft for anyone else to hear.

Let people know you are here," Harvey suggests. "Bring the pain to them. They have

Q What would our friends working around the world suggest we say? A The people here have suffered enough.

"They deserve one peaceful evening."

The assassin instinctively looked from side to side in the tavern.

Everyone was cracking up.

Singing.

Consuming alcohol.

Honestly oblivious that merely a few paces from him was the man who had spat out curse after curse to Clara’s mother and made the lives of innocent men miserable.

His throat contracted with a feeling of bitter deseption

, but not guilt.

Idolatry.

Complete terror.

Victor S ancleo the boat sloops he had been gazing atun’

You have done a good job escaping.

In fact, I’ll even praise you for it.

"You nearly escaped."

The assassin returned a forced smile.

"Then..."

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