NOVEL NEXT Chapter 31 - Order
Scene 031: Order
I couldn’t breathe. Every part of my body screamed in pain. I felt like my heart was about to burst, and my legs refused to obey me.
Surely, using “Patience” would stabilize me. But I couldn’t afford to activate it recklessly. Reaching its limit would mean my death.
A chill crept over me as Blanche approached.
“I’m surprised, Tristan. Have you learned some self-defense magic?”
Despite everything, I didn’t back down. My “pride” wouldn’t allow it.
“How is it that you can exert such strength with a body devoid of a single drop of mana?”
“…It’s just desperation,” I said.
“Desperation?”
“Yes. Because I still want to live.”
At that moment, I had no idea how I appeared to her. Blanche, who had been steadily closing the distance, suddenly halted. She lowered her head and muttered.
“If that day you had ordered me to die, I would have gladly done it.”
“…Is that so?”
If it was Blanche, of course, she would. She would not have doubted it—any order given by Tristan, even if that order was to embrace death.
“Did you say there’s no need for forgiveness?”
Blanche had always trusted Tristan. From the moment they met to the day he shot her. Perhaps even now, at this very moment, she still trusted Tristan.
Blanche raised her head, her expression unreadable. Was she crying? Or smiling?
“I agree. You’re not someone I need to forgive.”
With those words, Blanche lunged at me. Her fingertips gleamed ominously, their target unmistakable—my neck.
Clang!
The sharp screech of metal against metal echoed as my revolver blocked her long nails. I didn’t waste the opportunity, releasing all the mana I had stored in one burst.
Compared to someone like Myohail, who was a legendary Sage, or Wendy, who was a descendant of a hero, the mana I had accumulated was barely a drop. But it was enough to make the upper part of her body stagger. Her sharp nails were deflected, and Blanche’s eyes widened in surprise.
“?!”
Even so, Blanche lived up to her reputation as a legendary assassin. Despite her unsteady posture, she immediately reached for me.
But by then, my revolver was already aimed at her abdomen. At such close range, even her reflexes couldn’t save her.
The revolver roared repeatedly. Magnum rounds tore mercilessly into Blanche’s abdomen.
For an ordinary person, such a shot would rupture their organs, killing them instantly. Even with her superhuman body, taking magnum rounds at point-blank range had to cause significant damage.
As she staggered back, the distance between us grew. I imagined her face contorted in unbearable pain.
But that assumption was entirely wrong.
“This… doesn’t hurt at all!” she cried.
Then, with a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, she hurled something at me.
Thunk.
The sound of something piercing flesh wasn’t heard—it was felt. A hot liquid poured from my mouth. I quickly covered it with my hand.
It wasn’t rage, pride, greed, or envy spilling out.
“Ah… Damn it.”
My palm was stained dark red. Looking down, I saw Blanche’s nail embedded in my abdomen. Like a sharp dagger of ice, it stabbed deeply, spreading a chilling cold from my guts.
As the excruciating pain overtook me, I gritted my teeth.
[You have activated the trait “Patience.”]
Focusing every ounce of willpower, I steadied my labored breaths. The fatal wound, however, remained unchanged.
Even “patience” couldn’t completely suppress this pain.
I pulled the nail out of my abdomen with a swift motion. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t make a sound. Blood wasn’t gushing out of the wound—not because it was shallow, but because the cold had frozen the area, temporarily stopping the bleeding.
If left untreated, the nail infused with the mana of a spiritual beast would freeze my internal organs. If that happened, there would be no coming back.
Death.
The thought brushed across my mind.
As if reading it, a low voice spoke.
“Tristan, there’s only one way for you to survive.”
I looked up and saw Blanche staring at me. The tears that had been streaming down her face earlier had already dried.
“Tell me to spare you, Tristan. Order me to let you live.”
Blanche wasn’t the kind to spare someone begging for their life. She harbored no personal feelings toward those she killed. She was driven solely by orders.
“Then… I will spare your life.”
Blanche, the cold and ruthless assassin, like ice itself, was offering me one last act of mercy.
I remember the scenarios where Blanche killed Tristan.
In none of the countless scenarios where Tristan died had Blanche ever uttered similar words. The sword of vengeance she wielded had always condemned Tristan without hesitation or regret.
So, there was only one explanation left.
Blanche was changing.
Probably because of Bella, a woman who had a way of inspiring virtue in those around her.
In the future, Blanche would reform thanks to Bella. Slowly, she would become more human and use her abilities to save this world from the players.
But that future was far away.
Blanche was still a cold and unyielding character, someone who showed no emotion. She was a woman who dreamed of taking revenge on Tristan even while standing by Bella’s side.
However, the Blanche in front of me was hesitating.
Not entirely, but faint emotions were reflected on her face. It was as if a layer of her icy mask had peeled away.
And I thought I understood why.
“Blanche.”
She looked at me, her blue eyes trembling.
She was shaken.
The hatred she carried, the icy coldness that defined her, had started to crack.
If I were to order her to spare me now, I had no doubt she would. Because that’s who Blanche was.
But I couldn’t allow that.
“I’ve already given you an order.”
It was too soon for her to forgive Tristan.
I had no choice but to say this:
“Don’t forgive me.”
“……”
Blanche closed her eyes and stood still, as if deeply contemplating what to do.
When she reopened them, all hesitation had vanished.
“…Understood.”
Her voice was solemn, steady.
“I will make your death a painful one,” she declared.
I was ready.
Having stirred her hatred anew, I knew this wouldn’t end quickly.
And I had no intention of letting it end easily either.
I would resist with everything I had—against this cursed fate.
Just as I began gathering the surrounding mana, a sudden voice cut through the tension.
“That’s enough.”
Startled, I looked up.
A man stood on the rooftop railing, the sun at his back obscuring his face.
Blanche tensed, immediately on guard.
“…Who are you?” she demanded.
“I don’t give my name to beasts,” the man replied flatly.
“…What?”
Ignoring her entirely, he approached me.
“Count Ruelberta,” he said calmly.
Finally, I could make out his face.
“You’ll be coming with me from now on.”
His carefully styled hair and refined demeanor gave her the appearance of a high-ranking noble.
I didn’t bother to ask who he was.
There was no need.
I already knew.
Still, his sudden arrival at this moment was baffling.
Unaware of his identity, Blanche seized his shoulder, frost emanating from her hand.
“Leave,” she ordered coldly. “This is none of your concern, outsider.”
But the man remained unfazed.
“An outsider? It seems you’re mistaken,” he said coolly. “You’re the outsider here. Rank 1 serial killer, also known as the ‘Frost Beast.’”
“…?!”
Blanche’s eyes widened.
“Are you one of those who’ve been pursuing me?”
“Wrong. That’s not my job, beast.”
“…You! Since earlier—!”
To Blanche, his words were a grave insult.
However, the man’s face remained unchanged as he spoke, his tone firm, as if carrying out an important mission.
“From this moment on, I’ll secure the count’s safety. If you intend to harm him, you’ll have to get through me, beast.”
“…!”
Blanche could no longer suppress her anger. Frost enveloped her, responding to her fury as she bared her teeth.
“You intend to eliminate me?”
“That’s right. If you get in the way, I’ll eliminate you.”
“Ha… Do you think I’ll stand idly by?”
“Are you saying you’ll oppose me? Fine.”
At that moment, Marco Feiligris, captain of the imperial guard, tilted his head from side to side.
“Try it, beast,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you think you can.”