The Kantadar bow rider by the window might have been too relaxed. Overwhelmed by the stuffy heat and itch, he had taken his tightly secured helmet off and set it aside, propping his hands on the windowsill and yawning.
Listening to the commotion downstairs, he pulled a wicked smile, looking forward to the long-missed relaxation and venting, yet he was utterly oblivious to the fact that Death had silently descended upon him.
Leather-soled soft shoes gently rested on the wooden beams as Leon, holding the long sword he had drawn earlier, soundlessly turned and reached the soldier's head.
Finding the right spot, he gripped the sword handle backwards, his left hand following the Half-sword Technique to support the strong part of the blade, pointing the tip directly at the exposed neck of the target, then he took a deep breath.
Fuck me! Divine justice!
Leon took a flying leap.
Like an assassin emerging from shadows, the inverted long sword dropped swiftly with gravity.
The unsuspecting bow rider only felt a sudden heavy pressure on his back, thrown off balance and toppled over by Leon's descent.
The two of them crashed to the floor with a thud.
"Ughhh—" The bow rider's cry of alarm was only half-expressed when the stabbing blade in Leon's hand pierced through his throat.
The tip of the sword even pinned into the floor.
In his agony, the bow rider's eyes widened in terror, only able to emit painful gasping groans as blood gushed from the wound made by the blade.
Perhaps because he had already practiced on Wild Goblins and Living Corpses from the Cursed Land, Leon felt no discomfort in his heart for killing a real person for the first time.
Especially since his victim was such a conscienceless beast, possibly influenced by the original owner's tragic memories, he even felt a sense of revengeful satisfaction in his heart.
The thudding sounds of Lokhak and Azeryan hitting the ground followed closely after, as the two men swiftly moved forward to firmly pin down the dying struggles of the enemy's limbs.
Leon firmly grasped the handle, pressing sideways with force. The rotating Dwarf Steel Blade easily sliced through flesh, and the sword's edge decapitated the bow rider's head along the neck bone.
"...?"
Pockmarked, trying to take his leg armor off on the second floor, lifted his head.
The consecutive thumps on the floor above puzzled him, and he couldn't help but shout loudly, "Laun? What's going on?"
Getting no response from his subordinate, Pockmarked picked up the armor lining and leg armor again.
He looked down, reached out, and patted the girl's cheek with a warning, "Stay put and don't run around, or I'll slaughter you."
Having said that, Pockmarked turned and walked up the wooden stairs on the wall, yelling even louder, "Laun! What the hell are you doing up there?"
But just as he was peeking out from the stairwell, he saw the headless corpse of his subordinate on the ground, and his eyes instantly tightened.
And next to the body, a clean-looking young man holding a bloodied dagger gestured at him and taunted in quite authentic Uria Language,
"He's gone to Hell first; you're next, you swine."
"Motherfucker! What little bastard is this!"
Enraged, Pockmarked immediately drew the long sword from his waist and made to charge up to the third floor.
But as soon as half of his body emerged from the stairwell, he felt a sudden chill at his waist.
Excruciating pain shot through him, and Pockmarked looked down in disbelief.
A sharp blade had already been thrust through his loins from behind.
With the backstab successful, Leon, who had been crouching in the blind spot at the stairwell entrance on the floor, twisted the blade vigorously to scramble the innards.
"Ahh—!" Screaming in agony, tears streaming from his eyes, Pockmarked struggled to strike back at his assailant, but the wall next to the wooden stairs completely blocked his right arm's movements.
"Galuf!! Galuf!!! Are you fucking deaf? Come quickly!!" In panic, he shouted the name of his subordinate outside the tower, hoping to summon help, but then he saw another tall, furious young man charging towards him on the left.
"Die, you mongrel!"
Lokhak stepped forward briskly, raising his left hand to drive the Rune Crossbow Arrow like a short spear fiercely into Pockmarked's eye socket.
The sharp arrowhead, capable of piercing Griffin skin, easily burst the enemy's eyeball, and under the resentful strike of the young man, it nearly plunged into his brain.
Lokhak's right hand didn't stop, as his broken sword swiped across accurately, the jagged blade tearing off a large piece of flesh from the opponent's neck, the gaping wound tearing Pockmarked's throat open.
Leon also twisted and pulled out his long sword with force, spattering blood across the floor.
Pockmarked's body went limp, convulsing. He covered his slit throat and rolled down from the staircase with heavy thuds.
"Ah... ah ah ah!—" The disheveled village girl screamed in terror.
The last Kantadar Soldier had already run up to the second floor, just in time to witness the dreadful sight of Pockmarked dragging a trail of blood as he tumbled down the stairs.
"Damn it! What's the situation?!"
Startled into action, he didn't even hesitate for a moment; he turned around and leapt down the stairs, bounding back to the first floor and sprinting for the exit without any intention of rescuing his companions in his panic.
"No good! He's trying to escape!"
Lokhak took the stairs two at a time as he leaped down, snatched up the long sword Pockmarked had dropped, and hastened after him.
Azeryan quickly drew the waist sword from the body of a Kantadar cavalryman and followed down the stairs.
Leon's heart raced with urgency. He had intended to join in the pursuit of the last one to slip through the net, but then his eyes caught sight of the battle bow next to the body of a bow rider by the window and he abruptly changed his mind.
Dropping the treasure sword, he swiftly stepped forward; with his left hand, he picked up the battle bow, and his right hand naturally drew a feathered arrow from the quiver on the body; as he pulled back the bow and set the arrow, he leaned towards the window.
Sure enough, the desperate fleeing Kantadar Cavalry had already mounted his horse, while Lokhak and Azeryan had just barely run out of the door.
Without waiting for the rider to spur his mount into a gallop, Leon expertly used his body to draw strength, pulling back the sturdy bow in his hands.
Whether in his previous life or as the son of the hunter in this life, he was extremely familiar with the skills of archery.
The bow was high-poundage and very strenuous to draw, but still within his capability; and with such short distance and such an ideal overlooking angle, there was no chance of missing.
As the string was released, the whistling, lethal arrow flew through the air.
"Ah!"
The Kantadar Cavalryman screamed as he fell from his horse.
The arrow had entered his chest from his back at a steep angle.
Seeing the enemy fall, Leon remembered something and quickly shouted to his companions below, "Don't kill him; bring him back. I have questions for him."
Lokhak and Azeryan had no choice but to abandon their initial intent to stab the man again, dragging the Kantadar Cavalryman back into the Windmill Tower by his legs.
Leon momentarily put down his battle bow and, picking up his long sword, turned and hurried down the stairs.
Passing the second floor, he paused at the sight of the trembling girl cowering in the corner.
"Don't be afraid, we won't hurt you. If you're going to run, now's your chance," he said offhandedly to comfort her and, without waiting for a response, continued down to the first floor.
Seeing the Kantadar Soldier lying on the ground with breaths coming in but not going out, Leon urged Azeryan, "You speak the Uria Language, help me interrogate him, see if he knows anything about Olivia's whereabouts."
But Azeryan shook his head, "I would like to ask, too, but I fear this guy is probably past being able to speak."
As he spoke, he stepped forward and kicked the man's head.
Indeed, the Kantadar Soldier who had been shot through the lung was beyond speaking and only capable of painful, dying groans, evidently about to breathe his last.
"However, earlier on the tower, I did hear them talking about a father-daughter pair; it's very likely they were referring to Miss Olivia and that old blacksmith."
Azeryan did not conceal the conversation he had overheard; after all, he, too, was concerned about the blonde girl.
After hearing his companion's narrative, Leon let out a resigned sigh.
He had been hoping that Olivia, with her skills, might escape death's clutches, but now it seemed she faced overwhelming odds.
"Olivia's fallen into the hands of those bastards? This..." Lokhak clenched his fist, anxiety evident in his eyes.
Azeryan didn't speak, but he simply gave Leon a calm look.
To rescue or not to rescue...
Leon felt torn inside. He rested his sword against the floor and tapped the pommel with his fingers.
Heart to heart, of course he wanted to save her; he could not stand the thought of the girl falling into the hands of the Kantadar brutes.
But at present, it was undoubtedly wiser for the three of them to quickly leave this place.
He had no reason to risk the lives of two companions for a girl who was neither kin nor friend.
Moreover, whether he could save her or not, he now had no idea where the Kantadar people were holding her, so where to even begin a rescue?
Or worse, what if she had already met with misfortune?
... Surely, he wasn't supposed to brazenly go into the village and ask those Kantadar soldiers if they had seen a strong, blonde girl?
"Are you... are you talking about Sister Olivia?" A timid voice came from the direction of the stairway.
Leon and the others turned sharply to look, causing the girl who had peeked out from the second floor to jump.
"Little sister? Do you know where Miss Olivia is?" Azeryan asked, raising an eyebrow.
The brunette girl nodded nervously before cautiously asking, "Are you... the three outsiders that Sister Olivia mentioned? Are you here to rescue her?"