Lord of Caldera - Chapter 280

Chapter 280: Chapter 280

Before John could protest, Max stepped forward, his fist slamming into the side of John’s head with enough force to send him sprawling unconscious.

Sylas sighed, standing up and gesturing for Toby and Max to handle the rest.

“Tie him up and drop him at the baron’s doorstep,” Sylas ordered. “Make sure he’s alive—barely.”

Rey chuckled, shaking her head as she returned to her reading.

“The baron won’t take this well,” she observed.

Sylas’s smile didn’t waver.

“That’s the idea,” he replied. “Let him stew in his rage. It’ll make it all the sweeter when we bring him to his knees.”

As Max and Toby dragged John’s unconscious body out of the room, Sylas sat back down, his eyes gleaming with quiet anticipation.

“Let the games begin.”

John stared at Max with eyes wide in terror. This man was no failed assassin pretending to be a mentor. He was a fully trained killer forged in the notorious Black Moon through rigorous training. Killing someone would come even more naturally to Max than it did to John.

“Am I going to die?” John thought desperately.

In his already subdued state, he realized that just a single move from Max could kill him before he could even scream. The thought of his impending death sent shivers through his body. Yet, the expected blow never came.

“Aren’t you going to answer? Who’s your mentor?” Max demanded.

“Th-that is…” John stammered, recoiling from Max’s murderous gaze. Just as he was about to blurt out that his mentor had no designated number, a chilling realization struck him.

If he told the truth, wouldn’t he be killed on the spot?

A fleeting possibility crossed John’s mind. In the Black Moon, assassins without numbers were nothing more than disposable tools. It stood to reason that his own mentor, being such a figure, wouldn’t care much for him. If that was the case, claiming any number might increase his chances of survival.

“You’ve been dodging my question for too long. Fine, I’ll just kill you right here—” Max growled.

“25! My mentor was Number 25!” John shouted abruptly, blurting out the first number that came to mind. He didn’t even know if 25 held any significance.

To his surprise, Max’s expression shifted strangely.

“Your mentor was Number 25? Are you serious?” Max asked, his tone filled with a peculiar curiosity.

“Y-yes! That’s what my mentor told me!” John replied hastily.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” Max muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Sweat dripped down John’s back as unease gripped him. Could Max know the person he’d just mentioned? If they were close, he could be in serious trouble. A single misstep in his answers would expose his lie. However, Max’s response turned out to be the opposite of what John feared.

“I only ran into that guy twice during missions,” Max said, recalling faint memories. “He was so quiet we barely exchanged words. Is he still like that?”

“Y-yes! He’s always been that way!” John lied eagerly, relief washing over him.

I’m alive! he thought, nearly shouting for joy. If they’d only been passing acquaintances, this was the perfect answer. The shared organizational bond implied familiarity without meaningful knowledge of each other.

“What’s Number 25 up to these days?” Max inquired, his tone softening.

“He’s retired to the countryside and living as a farmer,” John answered quickly.

“Why are your skills so pathetic? Did you quit halfway through training?” Max asked skeptically.

“There was… an incident, so I had to return to my hometown,” John replied, mixing truth with fiction. If Max had only surface-level knowledge of 25, he wouldn’t question John’s responses too deeply.

Max clicked his tongue, appearing mildly annoyed. “Tch, I was going to kill you, but I can’t do that now. As much as it pains me, I can’t murder the apprentice of an old acquaintance.”

“Th-thank you!” John exclaimed, bowing his head to the ground to hide his overwhelming relief.

What a fool! John smirked inwardly. For all his talk of being a Black Moon assassin, he’s nothing but a gullible idiot. He was still basking in his cleverness when Max’s voice shattered his confidence.

“Still, I find this fascinating,” Max mused.

“What do you mean?” John asked nervously.

“Number 25 died a long time ago,” Max said casually. “He was captured by a local lord and executed when Black Moon fell. I don’t recall the organization having techniques for bringing people back from the dead.”

“…Excuse me?” John stammered, his blood draining from his face.

“Oh, your mentor didn’t mention it? Curious,” Max added, a cruel smile creeping across his face. “So, tell me—how did your mentor manage to reattach his severed head?”

John froze, his pale face betraying his panic. It took a moment for the weight of Max’s words to fully register.

“S-spare me!” John begged, his voice trembling.

“Go to hell,” Max said coldly. The sickening sound of a neck snapping echoed through the room. And so, the pitiful third-rate assassin met his abrupt and unceremonious end.

Elsewhere, Baron Harald awoke feeling refreshed, a satisfied smile lighting up his face. Despite his worries, his anticipation hadn’t kept him from sleeping soundly.

It’s as if the gods themselves want me to savor the sweet taste of revenge with a clear mind, he thought.

“I wonder if John managed to handle the job well?” he mused. He imagined a grotesque scene so horrifying that it would leave the dragonslayer reeling. But his thoughts were interrupted by a frantic voice outside his door.

“Sir! Sir, we have an emergency!”

The baron recognized the speaker as his newly hired butler and responded with feigned surprise. “An emergency, you say? What’s happened?”

“There’s been a murder within the estate!”

“What? A murder?” the baron repeated, hiding his glee. His lips twitched as he fought to maintain composure.

“Who was killed?” he demanded, feigning outrage.

“It was John, sir. John has been murdered.”

The baron froze. “…What?”

It took a moment for the realization to sink in. “Wait a moment. Are you talking about that John?”

“Which John, sir?”

“My gardener! The one managing the grounds!”

“Yes, sir. It’s him,” the butler confirmed solemnly.