Sitting opposite Victor and in between two guards, Max remained carefree as his thoughts drifted. He took this time to sightsee, using the carriage’s tiny windows to take a peek at the capital city’s infrastructure.

The lectures and training had always been mentally and physically draining. Free time was a luxury which Max had used to spend time in the library. Ironic as it was, Victor and the rest were actually responsible for presenting Max with the opportunity to take a look at the Empire’s prized city, albeit from afar.

Unlike Earth’s concrete jungles which towered over everything else, the city played host to buildings of varied sizes and architecture styles. A symbol of the Royal family’s strength and influence, a beacon of stability and hope, a castle towered over the rest of the constructs, miles away from the Academy.

The city’s winding streets, the numerous carriages moving along the tiny road, the pedestrians walking along and gathered around stalls and shops, each added to the city’s charm in their own way.

It was a bumpy ride. As soon as they reached the city’s outskirts, the carriage constantly jumped up and down, creaking and vibrating like it was about to break down. The roadside gravel only added to the unpleasantness.

Victor smiled amid the continued rattling. “It’s a shortcut.” He said in response to Max’s suppressed grumbles.

As if in response to Max’s desires, the carriage moved at a faster pace through the unpaved road. The ride became increasingly turbulent until it suddenly wasn’t. The abrupt halt took Max by surprise, flinging him off his seat.

Each guard moved in a practiced manner, expressionless and flawlessly positioned. Victor revealed a small dagger, placing the blade so that it would naturally and effortlessly pierce Max’s heart. On Max’s left, the second guard jabbed out, his blade aimed at the throat.

No amount of vigilance could prepare someone for this. Twisting his body, Max barely avoided the strike at his vitals. Compared to his clumsy movements, the guards were far more fluid in their actions as they continued to stab forward.

Victor’s attack left a deep gash on Max’s chest while the second guard found his blade embedded in Max’s shoulder. But the stream of attacks was yet to end. The third guard now launched a strike of his own.

Surviving the unexpected attack could already be considered a miracle. With his life on the line, Max’s instincts kicked in as he leaned to the side and parried the third strike with his gauntlets. Letting out an enraged roar, Max jumped forward and pushed the entirety of his weight on to the guard. Caught off guard, the man groaned as the two crashed against the door and tumbled out of the carriage.

Despite their failure, Victor and the second guard calmly stepped. Max found himself with no time to regain balance and scrambled sideways, taking a defensive stance a few feet away. He warily watched the trio as the fourth co-conspirator joined their group. The last guard slowly drew his sword, sporting a scowl on his face.

“The Duke shouldn’t want me dead.” Max said, taking a step back. He winced. The blade previously stuck in his shoulder now lay on the road. The nausea came first and was quickly followed by the pain. Blood oozed out, dyeing his shirt red, his shoulder and chest stinging. “So, you’ve either been paid off or you’re imposters.” He continued despite the lack of a response. Deep breaths helped with the vertigo. They were partly responsible for returning him to a state of tranquillity.

Since his summoning, this was already the fourth attempt on his life. And while the experiences had strengthened his mental fortitude, Max found it irritating how accustomed he had become to dealing with dangerous encounters. This levelheadedness was not something he wanted to gain in such a manner.

The rustling trees, the clouds of dust and an empty road. Not a hint of civilization in sight. Max bitterly smiled. This was perhaps well planned; a good place to carry out his assassination.

Max sighed. He was in no shape to battle. The injuries gnawed at the little stamina he had left, the rest originally drained as a result of Crawford’s Spartan training. With four against one, the odds were against him. But the misfortune didn’t end there. Eight more men clad head to toe in black walked out from the forest on the side. Three more lay in hiding in the shrubbery. Max could feel them through his connection with the air, the corners of his mouth uncontrollably twitching. Overkill, that’s exactly what this was.

“Only the Minister could want me dead this much.” Max involuntarily muttered. It was the first name that popped in his head. The man had both resources and motive to make such a move.

“You’re too smart for your own good.” A man cloaked in black smirked. “You –” His words cut short by the new slit in his throat. The assassin choked on his own blood, collapsing with eyes wide open, his companion standing beside him with the murder weapon in hand. Expressionless, the contracted hitmen watched the life leave the man’s eyes, far too accustomed to death to care.

“Whoever sanctioned this fool’s entry will lose a finger.” The man growled and ordered, “Enough, kill him. Now!”

Surrounded, Max knew he couldn’t stall longer and burst into a sprint, heading for the trees. Followed by a group and confronted by another, Max gnashed his teeth. The air, the wind, he willed every atom around him to coalesce and form an armour around him in preparation for battle. The wind howled under his control and brought momentary confusion to the men around.

Innate ability and bodily strength combined, Max jumped with all of his might, catching the group in front of him by surprise and forcing the hidden trio into action.

A tree branch acted as the perfect scaffold. Max’s landing was perfect, but so too was another cloaked assassin’s. Sabre drawn, he chopped down, the blade aimed at Max’s back. Neither heightened reflexes nor any amount of preparation could help. Bracing for impact, Max grit his teeth and tightened his muscles. It was do or die.

It was like getting hit by a truck. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he was propelled through the air. The armour, dispelled as a result of the attack, absorbed the brunt of the strike, but the remaining force had been enough to send a jolt through his organs.

Puzzlement flashed past the assassin’s face. ‘What was that?’ was the question filling his head. He couldn’t wrap his head around the unusual resistance his blade had felt, the impenetrable blockade that had stopped his sabre from cutting Max in half.

“Such a shame.” The group’s leader muttered as he watched Max spit blood and desperately continue forward. There weren’t even a handful of Superior Knights who could survive a serious blow from a Crusader. Even as a hired assassin, he felt slight regret in nipping such a talented bud, but a job was a job.

Lightheaded and weak, Max’s head spun as started to lose grasp over his situation. His body subconsciously weaved, evading two flying knives, but couldn’t avoid the third. The pain, the fatigue, the dizziness, it had already started to overwhelm. Stumbling forward, Max suddenly felt his foot sink, the ground giving away.

“Wh - What?!” Max croaked, no energy or power in his voice. What came next was a surge of pain. Spewing blood, he was flung in the air, two fist sized rocks having slammed straight into his chest. Ribs broken, he collapsed on his back, his lungs struggling to let out a moan. His vision a blur, Max felt disoriented as he strained his eyes to lethargically glare at the figures towering over him.

The leader calmly walked over, wand in hand, looking indifferent. “Do it.” He said with a glance at the Crusader.

Sabre raised, the man licked his lips, but momentarily faltered. Instead of stabbing down, he slashed outwards with every ounce of his power. Sparks flew as the sabre cut down an arrow aimed at his head. “Who dares?!” He roared, jumping backwards and vigilantly looking around, cold sweat lining his back and forehead from having narrowly escaped the jaws of death.

Like trained soldiers, the assassins instantly responded to the sneak attack. They speedily spread out, their eyes darting about, hunting for the source of the arrow.

Max continued to lie down. His head moved side to side, discomfort written on his face, unaware of the transpired event. Eyes narrowed, he tried to focus on the willowy silhouette that had flashed into existence.

“I dare...” The figure whispered before appearing behind the Crusader and slitting his throat.