Report
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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Chapter 44 - The Seven Kill Squad (1)
"Hmm."
At the headquarters of the Seven Kill Squad.
Osal, the fifth-ranking member of the Seven Kill Squad, leaned casually against the counter.
"So boring."
The headquarters was quiet.
Naturally, an assassin group’s headquarters was meant to be quiet, but the Seven Kill Squad usually had plenty of work to keep them busy.
Assassinations and other covert tasks were handled by Ilsal through Sasal, while various odd jobs were left to Yuksal and Chilsal.
As for Osal, who fell somewhere in between, he mostly lazed around at the counter, guiding clients.
Well, "guiding" wasn’t the right word—it was more like gathering information on them, identifying their weaknesses, and when necessary, brainwashing or drugging them. He handled all aspects of customer management.
"Not many customers lately, though."
The change started when Ilsal caught a particularly lucrative client.
Claire Harold.
One of the Three Heroes and the true head of the Harold Trading Company, one of the continent’s most powerful trading companies. There were even rumors that her father, the official head of the company, was retiring soon, so calling her the true head wasn’t far from the truth.
It all began with a simple request.
The Harold Trading Company received a request to distribute certain goods from a source they couldn’t disclose.
If they had to go through an assassin group, it was clearly a highly confidential distribution task.
'They probably didn’t want to dirty their own hands. Moving the goods isn’t the hard part; the challenge is dealing with the consequences if they get caught.'
That’s how Ilsal explained it.
'So be careful not to reveal your identity and handle the transport discreetly. If we complete this job successfully, we can get Claire in our pocket.'
And just as she predicted, Claire became increasingly captivated by the Seven Kill Squad’s flawless work, gradually entrusting them with more and more significant tasks. Her dependence on them grew deeper and deeper.
Ilsal was bold.
She charged two to three times the usual fee.
Before long, the Harold Trading Company’s requests far exceeded those of any other clients.
"Such an easy job, too."
Recently, there had been an incident where Yuksal and Chilsal went missing.
A rescue team was dispatched, but the area had been thoroughly cleaned up, with clear signs that they had safely escaped. They’d probably be back by tomorrow, or at the latest, by the end of the week.
It wasn’t unusual for assassins, who had to wait for the perfect opportunity, to be absent for a while.
"Especially since those two cowards were the ones sent."
Muttering to himself, Osal straightened the collar of his crooked shirt.
After all, the real owner of the Seven Kill Squad was Ilsal.
And Ilsal was a predator.
A predator who never let a wounded prey escape.
'We’re going to devour the Harold Trading Company.'
One day, after Claire had left following another request, Ilsal had declared this as casually as if she were announcing a shopping trip.
That day marked the beginning of the plan to take over the Harold Trading Company.
"If only Samsal succeeds in the assassination today…"
Rumors were already widespread that Claire had lost her mind. The plan was to assassinate her and make it look like she had died from illness. Then, they’d install a puppet leader and swallow the trading company whole.
"It’s a dangerous life, being an assassin, huh?"
Osal chuckled to himself as the cook brought out his meal.
The counter.
This was the space where the fifth-ranking member of the Seven Kill Squad handled most of his work.
"Here’s your steak, cooked as rare as possible, just as you requested."
The cook’s hands trembled as he placed the plate down.
Osal frowned.
"Who’s going to eat that? Just put it down."
"S-sorry."
"If you can’t even place a plate down properly, how do you expect to cook? Tsk."
Osal clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes.
Anyway, it was time to enjoy his meal.
The steak, dripping with blood, seemed to be cooked just the way he liked it.
Scrape, scrape.
The sound of the knife echoed coldly through the spacious room.
Each time the cook flinched, the scars on his hands, carved by a blade, twitched.
Gulp.
Osal swallowed the meat and nodded.
Was he satisfied?
"If it suits your taste, I’ll just…"
The cook began to back away, bowing.
"Hold on."
With a grin, Osal raised his hand.
He was holding a knife between his index and middle fingers.
"If… if there’s something wrong, I’ll redo it. Please, forgive me."
The cook knelt as if this were a familiar routine.
But Osal just shrugged.
"No, no. It’s just that it’s a bit overcooked."
"I’ll make a new one."
"Hey, cook."
"Y-yes?"
Whirl.
The knife spun in his hand, forming a perfectly precise circle.
"I’ve told you at least four times now. How is it that there’s no improvement? At this point, you’re not even listening to me, are you?"
"N-no, I’m trying my best…"
Thunk.
The knife, meant for slicing the steak, embedded itself in the cook’s hand.
The cook’s eyes went wide.
"Aaaaargh!"
A scream burst from him as Osal frowned.
"Right. Make sure it’s cooked just enough to get a scream like this. The meat needs to have some bounce to it."
"Khrrk… Y-yes…"
"This is the fourth time recently. Try to do better."
"I… I’m so s-sorry, aaaargh!"
Another knife wound was carved into the cook’s hand.
Osal tasted the blood on the knife and grinned.
"It’s got to be this fresh to taste good."
Swish.
He wiped the knife on the steak and continued his meal.
"Then, I’ll take my leave…"
The cook bowed, blood dripping from his hand.
Osal shook his head.
"You need to stay. The scent of blood sharpens my appetite. You have to take responsibility for your mistake."
"Hngh… Yes."
"But it’s still a bit weak. Come here."
"…Pardon?"
"Come closer. I need to sharpen my appetite."
Osal’s eyes gleamed ominously as he pointed the knife at the cook’s neck.
"Hngh…"
The cook walked forward.
No matter what choice he made, death was certain.
At least if he pleased Osal, there might be a chance he’d survive.
That was the hope he clung to.
"That’s a ridiculous hope."
Thwack.
Osal’s grin vanished as he swung the knife.
It aimed precisely for the cook’s carotid artery.
But then…
"...?"
Osal’s expression twisted in surprise.
The cook squeezed his eyes shut.
The knife stopped just one millimeter short of his neck.
It was as if the scene had frozen in time.
And then, through the frozen tableau, a slightly nonchalant voice broke the silence.
"Hello. I’m here to see Miss Ilsal."
It was Lloyd.
◆
"Did… did he just stop time?"
The village chief murmured as he looked at the frozen figures.
Lloyd sighed deeply.
"They just froze in fear. I only stopped the knife. Hurry and secure the passage as planned. Yulia, guide the chief."
"Yes, understood."
Yulia nodded coldly and led the chief through the corridor behind the counter.
Only then did the servant, who had been frozen in shock, turn to face them.
'A rather fierce aura, those crazy eyes, and terrible taste in steak… This must be Osal, right?'
Lloyd pieced the situation together based on Claire’s description as he approached Osal.
"Hey. How long are you going to keep pretending to be frozen?"
Creak.
Finally, the man’s body began to move.
At the same time, the knife that had been poised at the cook’s carotid artery dropped to the floor.
Lloyd spoke up.
"Hey, if you want to live, now’s the time to run."
"Eek!"
The cook bolted toward the entrance, disappearing quickly.
Osal, watching Lloyd, finally spoke.
"What brings you here?"
Even in this situation, he maintained a polite tone.
Lloyd was inwardly impressed.
This guy knows how to assess combat ability.
Most people just dismiss me because of my young appearance.
"Oh, I wanted to make a request."
"What sort of request?"
"That’s a secret, of course. It’s a pretty dangerous one, so I’d like to meet Miss Ilsal."
"Madam Ilsal doesn’t accept just any request. Do you have money?"
"How much are we talking?"
"At least 1 billion Krones to start."
"Oh."
Lloyd scratched the back of his head as if troubled.
"My worth is exactly 1 billion Krones. Can’t I offer myself instead? I don’t have that much cash."
"We only accept cash."
"That’s a problem."
Lloyd grinned.
Only then did Osal’s expression tighten into a forced smile.
"I’d appreciate it if you just left."
"But my companions have already gone ahead. That’s not an option."
"I’ll guide you myself."
"How?"
"Well…"
A brief silence passed between them.
Lloyd lowered his head.
A throwing knife flew over his head.
When Lloyd looked up again, the knife that had fallen earlier was in his hand.
"Looks like someone dropped some silverware here."
"Indeed."
Osal replied calmly.
Lloyd smiled as he walked toward the counter, holding the knife by the handle, and extended it to Osal.
"Let me return this to you."
Then, without warning, Lloyd reversed the knife and drove it straight through the back of Osal’s hand.
".......?"
Perhaps he hadn’t anticipated such speed.
A scream finally erupted from Osal's mouth.
"Ah… aagh!"
He instantly retreated, putting distance between them.
But Lloyd accelerated once more, driving the knife handle even deeper.
"Khrrgh!"
No matter how well-trained an assassin is, a surprise attack always amplifies the pain.
All they can do is react mechanically in a crisis.
Osal, still screaming, swung his hand at an imperceptible speed.
—Shhk!
A knife grazed Lloyd’s cheek.
Feeling the sting of the cut, Lloyd stopped time on the wound.
Sure enough, the faint traces of poison began to slightly paralyze the muscles in his cheek.
"Damn it!"
Osal shouted in frustration.
Lloyd raised one corner of his mouth and instantly closed the distance between them.
".......?"
No. He only pretended to close the distance.
Osal, dumbfounded, looked down at his feet. His ankles, separated from his legs, were now fixed to the floor.
"Ah, I’ve been practicing that move. When I try to freeze the whole body, experts usually notice, but freezing just a part? They don’t catch on. I do it very carefully."
Lloyd grinned.
He casually swung the knife in his hand as he approached Osal.
For Osal, it was nothing short of a nightmare.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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