No longer peering around to avoid alerting the mercenaries, Leon buried his head back down. He had already garnered the will of the two behind him, ready to act on a moment's notice. Lokhak, needless to say, would fight alongside them, and even young Azeryan would join them with all his might.
The three sought their freedom, and now was the time when the likelihood of success seemed at its highest.
Despite the low odds of defeating the mercenaries, they had to take the gamble with their lives at stake.
... The fiercest fight of his past life had been nothing more than playful swordplay at the Sword Hall. Now, he found himself playing the role of Spartacus, risking his life. Had he known this, he would have definitely taken hand-to-hand combat more seriously... Complaining to himself about the involuntary life-and-death pressure, Leon's heart was pounding as if it were a drum.
Suddenly, a faint breeze whisked by in front of him.
——!
An imperceptible movement came from his wrist.
The soft click was masked by the clanging and jingling of the chains as they moved. If not for the vibration on his own wrist, Leon would have almost missed the sound.
He looked at his manacled wrists in confusion, feeling the previously tight and secure binds now significantly loosened.
Doubt swirled up in him, unbelievable as it seemed. Leon tentatively arched his wrist...
As expected, there was no resistance from the manacle's lock. There was indeed a small gap between the two U-shaped iron rings, just enough to wriggle free.
Had the aged lock core broken?
Was he really that lucky? Right when he was prepared to fight to the death?
Leon pressed down his arms anxiously, tilting the iron rings upward to hide the irregularity on his wrists, unable to contain his surprise and elation.
A gentle and pleasant female voice then arose from the depths of Leon's heart.
"...Only one chance..."
The sudden voice startled him.
Who was speaking?
The voice continued, talking to itself.
"...Remember this spell, Isa's Arrow, aim it at your enemy..."
A pair of blurry hands appeared as though a shadow had materialized before Leon's astonished gaze.
The hands, glowing softly, drew a series of simple, graceful gestures before fading away dreamily.
Shoving his astonishment aside, Leon quickly glanced back at the mercenaries.
The mercenaries continued to march on, their expressions unchanged and oblivious to the transient phantom scene that had just appeared.
Leon sighed with relief.
——Who are you?
He attempted to question the voice deep within his heart once more.
...No response.
After calling out several times, the questions sank into the silence of his mind like pebbles into a still lake, eliciting no echo. Leon had to give up trying to communicate for the time being.
He did not believe it was a hallucination or a vision, for the manacles on his hands were undeniably unlocked by a force beyond his understanding.
So, what did Isa's Arrow mean? Was he to perform those gestures towards his enemy?
...Magic?
The simple memories left by the original hunter's son had little knowledge, but Leon, bombarded by various fantasy works in modern times, relied on his imagination to speculate amidst his confusion.
Perhaps another consciousness akin to a soul was inhabiting his body just like him. She was helping him escape by unlocking his manacles with a power similar to a spell.
Leon's gaze grew resolute. There was no time for pointless doubts. Regardless of the existence of magic, he had to seize this opportunity. At the very least, having his hands freed significantly increased his chances of survival.
And regarding the gesture displayed by that mysterious consciousness...
From her literal words, perhaps it was a kind of spell akin to shooting an arrow? What was its power? Could it pierce the chain armor of the mercenaries? What was its range?
He had no way of knowing.
Blood boiled along with his mounting tension as Leon took deep breaths for the final adjustment of his heart rate.
The mercenary continued to walk by their side, maintaining a position at the end of the line to monitor the three men's progress. Leon knew there was no chance to launch a surprise attack from behind. Whichever of them acted first, the mercenary would have ample time to draw his sword and meet them in combat.
Then, as the one furthest from the mercenary, it was Leon's role to draw the enemy's attention.
...
A breeze whispered through the wild grass beside the path.
Leon's gaze swept over all the even possibilities right in front of him, searching for a spot to set foot upon.
Now was the moment!
His arms bent, he violently pushed the manacles off his wrists and pulled, freeing his hands completely.
As he took a step forward, Leon swiftly turned and shouted back at Lokhak in a stern voice, "Strike now, together!"
Amidst his roar, Leon took the lead charging toward the mercenary along a curved path to his left front, immediately capturing the startled gaze of the mercenary. This distance did not allow Leon to reach the mercenary before the latter could draw his sword. Leon's charge was meant to entice the enemy to face him directly, creating an opportunity for the other two to strike from the sides.
Lokhak, although surprised to see that his companion had broken free, was well-prepared. The robust young man turned and charged at the stunned mercenary with the quickest speed he had ever mustered.
Azeryan was just a beat slower in his reaction. Since the chain of his manacles was still connected to Lokhak, he had to follow Lokhak's movements and rush toward the mercenary.
(Uria Language) "Damn it! You're asking for death!?" Although startled by the sudden rebellion of the three slave boys, the mercenary didn't panic and certainly didn't turn foolishly to one side as Leon had hoped.