Lucky Coin

Assassination

The carriage drew closer, made a slow circle around the square, and then came to a stop. The people waiting around quickly moved forward to greet it. Leading the charge was the mayor, an old man dressed in a dark red ceremonial outfit, complete with a silver vest and high-heeled shoes, looking like a peacock.

The important figure had already stood up, and the guards beside him opened the carriage door. He extended his hand toward the mayor, who reached out in return, their hands almost about to clasp.

Suddenly, a man from the nearby military band, playing the flute, darted forward. He had dropped the flute to the ground, revealing the sword concealed within it.

The short sword was over a foot long and about the thickness of a finger, lacking both a hilt and a guard. The man gripped it with just two fingers.

In an instant, the short sword pierced the important figure’s throat, the tip emerging from the back of his neck.

Everything happened too quickly for those around to react. The first to regain awareness was the guard who had opened the carriage door; he immediately drew his sword. But before he could make a move, the assassin twisted his wrist, the blade slicing through the guard’s neck.

The guards leading the cavalry quickly turned their horses around and unsheathed their swords. Unfortunately, before they could get close, the assassin unleashed a series of deadly strikes, each one aimed at their foreheads or temples.

The mayor, dressed like a peacock, stumbled and rolled, fleeing toward the crowd while shouting, “Capture the assassin! Capture the assassin!”

Other prominent figures looked equally unimpressive, all scrambling in a panic to escape. In contrast, some individuals among the crowd drew their swords fearlessly, one even brandished a firearm. It was a small self-defense gun, about the size of a palm, with a barrel that was roughly the thickness and length of a finger. Its intimidating presence far exceeded its practical effectiveness.

However, it was still a firearm. With a bang, a flash of fire erupted, and white smoke billowed around, invigorating everyone’s spirits momentarily.

But soon, they were all left dumbfounded, for they witnessed a flash of steel, and with a ringing sound, the bullet was deflected by the assassin's sword.

The gunman was bewildered, instinctively pulling the trigger again. This firearm had two barrels, allowing for two shots in succession.

Another bang followed, and again the assassin's sword flashed, deflecting the bullet once more. At the same time, the gunman collapsed, a silver throwing knife lodged in his right eye.

The surrounding crowd immediately lost their courage; anyone capable of deflecting bullets was not someone they could confront.

Just then, cheers erupted from the distance: "The guard squad is coming! The guard squad is coming!"

The cheers came from the southern district. From his position, Rape could not see what was happening there; he no longer cared about his clothes and climbed up a downspout, landing on a second-floor balcony. Amid the chaos, he noticed that the small pickpocket on the opposite wall had vanished; the kid had disappeared at some point.

Gunshots rang out in the distance.

The first to arrive were the swordsmen from the guard squad, wielding swords in one hand and short guns in the other. Behind them came the musketeers, all equipped with long guns. The first to engage were the musketeers, who, at the sound of a command, raised their weapons and aimed. These musketeers were well-trained: those in the front crouched down, the half-kneeling ones behind them, and the standing ones at the back. Although the formation was somewhat disorganized, their movements were remarkably coordinated.

The swordsmen at the front quickly spread out to the sides, not daring to obstruct the path of the bullets. At the same time, they planned to encircle the assassin to prevent his escape.

Bang—bang—bang—

A thick cloud of smoke enveloped the area as gunshots rang out like a torrential downpour, bullets flying towards the assassin.

The attempted assassination of the king's envoy was a matter of great importance, and they could no longer concern themselves with the possibility of collateral damage. After all, there were bodyguards surrounding the dignitary to shield him from bullets; the deaths of insignificant individuals meant little.

At that moment, the assassin finally revealed his true prowess. His figure flickered like a phantom, evading the bullets effortlessly. Even when one or two bullets posed a threat, he deflected them with his short sword. He charged into the crowd, his sword moving like a whirlwind, and anyone who dared stand in his way immediately fell.

“It’s like he’s mowing down grass; this guy is incredible,” the small pickpocket on the opposite wall exclaimed, eyes wide with astonishment.

“If you were the one being killed, you wouldn’t think so,” Rape retorted, though deep down, he felt a yearning for that assassin.

Every child has dreams of heroes, but unfortunately, heroes have become increasingly rare in these times. The assassin before him was the closest thing to a hero in Rape's eyes.

Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion, and an orange fireball illuminated the street.

How many people died in that blast?

Rape saw the fireball explode amidst the crowd, taking down at least twenty or thirty individuals, including women and children.

His expression changed as the reality set in; he had lost interest in the spectacle. It wasn’t just him—the crowd below began to scatter, not wishing to be caught up in such violence.

“No running!” At the street entrance, the guard squad had apparently cordoned off the area. Several blocks near the square were now enclosed.

Seeing someone trying to cross the blockade, a man who appeared to be the squad leader took a firearm from a nearby soldier and fired a shot into the air: “Anyone who dares take another step forward will regret it!”

Everyone immediately halted in their tracks.

At that moment, another explosion sounded from behind, but this time it wasn’t in the crowd; it came from the rooftops. Most people didn’t see what happened, but Rape had a better vantage point, allowing him to spot the assassin. The assassin climbed up the wall to the rooftop, treating the vertical surface as if it were flat ground. Once on the roof, he darted about like a wraith, leaping from one side to the other.

There were two individuals on the rooftop as well, both wizards. They held wands that shimmered at the tips, occasionally launching small orange fireballs. Each fireball was only the size of a fist, but when they exploded, their power was enough to send the entire floor flying into the air. With every explosion, a building suffered.

The unfortunate ones remained those below, as debris and shards rained down, injuring anyone struck. Rape witnessed a beam plummeting from above, crashing onto a cart and shattering it into countless splinters, instantly killing the driver and those inside.

Rape felt his heart race, both in fear and astonishment at the power of magic.

However, what amazed him even more was the assassin. The man showed no fear, evading most of the fireballs effortlessly. On the occasions he didn’t dodge, he actually sliced through the shockwaves of the explosions with his sword, sending debris flying in all directions while leaving him and the ground beneath him completely unscathed.

Such swordsmanship existed in this world!

The legendary heroes who could split mountains or part seas seemed not entirely fictitious after all.

As the battle came to a close, the assassin managed to escape. The city felt as though it had just witnessed a war; ruins and devastation were everywhere, accompanied by the sound of weeping. Corpses were being brought out and laid in the square.

Most of the mourners were there to identify the deceased; the casualties included many from various municipal departments, making it easy to verify their identities. The only troublesome cases were those whose bodies were burned beyond recognition, requiring the compilation of missing persons lists to confirm their identities.

At this moment, Rudenheim Square and the surrounding streets had been sealed off. Every intersection was guarded by the security team, and anyone trying to escape the lockdown needed someone to vouch for them. If their identities were found to be inconsistent, they would be arrested, possibly deemed as accomplices of the assassin.

Rape didn’t need to worry; he stood with his father and their colleagues from the sub-office. Their superior was currently signing his name on a list, while the deputy director called out names.

"I need you to help me with something," the little pickpocket slipped back over.

As the pickpocket spoke, Rape felt a weight settle on his body. He quickly checked his pocket and, indeed, found it stuffed with many items.

“Help me get these out. I’ll come back for them in a few days. If you refuse, when I get caught, I’ll definitely rat you out,” the little pickpocket chuckled darkly.

Rape then realized why he had felt a sense of foreboding earlier; he had forgotten that such people were best avoided. Once entangled with them, it would be a never-ending mess. He was certain this was just the beginning and that he would face much more trouble in the future. But he couldn’t refuse; he didn’t dare to.

The pickpocket left, wearing a smug expression.

Rape's face turned pale, and he glared fiercely at the retreating figure. In his mind, he imagined countless ways to kill that little thief—stabbing him, dousing him in oil and burning him, binding him with stones and throwing him into the river to drown… Unfortunately, all he could do was think about it. Even if he had the chance to act, he wouldn’t dare to go through with it.

“What’s wrong with you? You look so pale,” his father approached, noticing his son’s unusual demeanor. However, he didn’t guess the truth and thought his son was simply frightened by the earlier chaos.

To be honest, Rape wasn’t the only one terrified; his father was shaken as well. Their superior was in such distress that he hadn’t signed anything yet due to trembling hands.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon. The carriage is already waiting outside,” his father reassured him. This was a small blessing amidst the misfortune—at least they wouldn’t have to walk home.

Rape pushed his worries aside; it was too late for regrets now. He could only take things one step at a time.

To be honest, Rape felt a strong discontent with the current situation. He didn’t want to live like his father, constantly bowing and scraping to others just to keep the family fed. He yearned for change.