Chapter 59: Racafi’s Infamous Assassin
Crow’s POV
"Code name… Armaros. Racafi's infamous assassin," I utter, carefully observing the man in front of me, ready to cut him down as his gaze falls slightly.
His grip loosens, and the sword clatters onto the ground, narrowly missing his legs as it bounces away before laying still. A few more seconds pass, and I maintain my stance, remaining vigilant.
"It's been a long time since I've been called that name," he finally says, a silver iris aura starting to flow around the outer rim of his body.
It's all starting to make sense now. No wonder that wouldn't work on him.
No, let's not get ahead of myself. It did work, but just not in the right way. His entire memory should've been wiped, but if Armaros is an alter ego, which may very well be possible, then it is feasible that only part of his memory has been erased. If the information I found on him is accurate, he's been trained to be a cold-blooded assassin since early childhood. What that kind of stress and torment can put on a mere child is, quite frankly… tragic, even in this world.
He's rumored to have never failed a mission he's been given, and on record… he's killed dozens. But my guess? His count is in the hundreds.
I grit my teeth.
And some of those people he killed were people I once cared for…
Narrowing my gaze, I continue to assess the situation.
By his statement just now, I must have unintentionally awakened this alter ego of his, Armaros. Who would've thought that just mentioning his code name would've been enough for this personality of his to resurface? Additionally, this only leads me to wonder… has his full memory returned?
"You do not fit the description of who I have been assigned to eliminate, nor as the person I've been assigned to acquire. You are not a target, so drop your weapons, and I'll leave you unscathed," advises Armaros, his tone as icy as his facial expression.
Does he not remember?? Perhaps his memory is foggier than I anticipated. Either way, I mustn't back down. For his sake… for what's right… I must avenge them. But first, I need more information.
"Presently, these weapons I'm clutching are not meant to harm you. They are merely a tool for self-defense… unless circumstances change. Out of curiosity, I must ask, do you know where you are right now?" I say.
As I finished my question, Armaros’s silver iris compressed, its strength folding in on itself just slightly brimming above the roof of his skin.
He looked around briefly before replying, "No, I am unfamiliar with this landscape and environment. But… the air smells like Iasa, so I assume we're located somewhere deep within the kingdom, separated from the population."
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
He lives up to his reputation. Not only is his combat strength so revered, but his analytical and sensory skills are also incredible. Gripping the handles to my daggers, I curse under my breath. The higher-ups have made a grave error in allowing this man to live, and now it looks like I'll have to do their dirty work… and be the one to clean up their mess.
I feel my teeth grinding back and forth inside my mouth.
Once more, this just shows how expendable I am to them. If I die, nothing will change; somebody will simply come and replace me, and that's that. They truly have no regard for our lives.
I mean, honestly… what good is a kingdom if there are no people left to lead?
I raise my daggers, and a thin purple iris aura envelops my body and weaponry. Armaros's eyes narrow.
For the sake of what I've set out to do, for the promise I made her… I can't die here. Which leaves me with only one option. My lips curl into a grin, not out of fear or panic but from the thrill of the imminent battle that'll commence. It's been a while since my life has been in such danger…
***
Armaros and Crow stood ready, their bloodlusts oozing into each other's consciousness. They both awaited the other, cautiously considering whether or not to make the first move.
A breeze wisped along the ground, and the quiet rattle of Crow’s chains whispered as drops of sweat saturated the ground beside his shoes. Roughly thirty seconds passed before somebody finally made the first move.
“Rift flow…”
Uttering those two words, Armaros thrusts his arm out in front of him. A silver spark sharply exudes from his hand as his body and presence swiftly disappear. His eyes darting around, Crow tries to track down and locate Armaros's presence, fortifying his iris as he braces for an attack. Tearing open a tight rift behind Crow’s left shoulder, Armaros’s scar, eyes, and mouth boast a glistening silver.
Execution.
With a sparkling iris aura enveloping his right hand, Armaros clutches a shining glass shard in the shape of a spear-pointed dagger... the blade's shape and style unique only to Armaros. As Crow detects Armaros behind him, he subconsciously channels iris into his dagger.
He's fast!
Swiveling around and throwing up his dagger, Crow barely manages to block and redirect Armaros’s attack before his throat is slashed. A flurry of silver and blue sparks fly from the contact as Crow gnashes his teeth, whipping his other arm forward to stab Armaros with his other dagger.
Promptly recovering from his after-swing, Armaros firmly grips both ends of his glass dagger as he goes down on a knee to block Crow’s attack. Their blades clattering against one another, Crow tries to get the leg up on Armaros.
Kulta!
As he increases the density behind his daggers with this ability, the ground cracks around Crow as he continues bearing down on Armaros, forcing him closer and closer to the ground. Refocusing his strength, Armaros marginally escapes Crow’s attack as he rolls out of the way, Crow’s dagger crashing down into the ground. A small crater is made where his attack landed as Crow quickly rises up again, locking eyes with Armaros, who stands untouched a few dozen feet away.
In terms of raw combat ability, we are probably about equal. In battles such as these, the first mistake is usually the last. Now that we've exchanged blows, I can't afford to let him get the jump on me again. For some reason, I have the nagging feeling that he was holding back. It has been a while since he last engaged in such a fierce battle. He may have grown rusty.
But rusty or not, Armaros is not the only one still holding an ace up his sleeve…