Chapter 262: The Terror Live (1)

Speedweapon, the one who loves to explain things.

“……”

Right now, he’s on the brink of death.

‘The atmosphere is freezing.’

It feels like a dagger is piercing his chest.

Speedweapon had his lips pressed against a champagne glass (orange juice), moving only his eyes side to side.

‘This is insane.’

He had made it all the way to the ballroom—the highlight of the festival—only to end up stuck in silence, trapped in his own misery like a monk offering a silent prayer.

‘I want to talk…’

But he had no choice. If he so much as coughed in there, he was sure this would happen.

Who was that?

Who dared cough?

Who dared make that noise!?

And someone would stab him in the face.

Who? The two girls over there with sparks flying from their eyes—Abel and Ryozo.

Abel wore an elegant dress and soft makeup that made her glow. Rumor had it she had flown in her personal maid from Switzerland just for the ball.

‘That one next to Abel is the Nibelung family maid, Shail.’

Shail was a well-known heroine. Despite being a merit-based student, she became a senior hero at the youngest age on record. Many predicted she’d reach Warrior rank within five years. An absolute prodigy—especially considering she had no inherited blessing.

‘And that butler behind her…’

Karon, the Rakshasa.

That kindly smiling middle-aged man was actually a legendary assassin-for-hire. His specialty? Heroes. In other words, he was a hero-hunter.

He vanished for a while, then reappeared as the Nibelung family butler. The hero community demanded his arrest, but the Swordmaster declared he’d personally watch over him.

— A famous episode that stirred the hearts of many, full of nobility and valor.

‘And now, Shail’s a makeup artist, and Karon serves juice. Amazing.’

Speedweapon shook his head and took a sip of his tangy drink, sneaking a glance at Abel.

Abel was already someone who stood out for her beauty, but today she seemed determined to cause an epidemic of heartbreak. More than half the male students couldn’t stop staring.

‘Look at that one drooling juice like a waterfall.’

But whenever they met Karon’s gaze, they all looked away in terror.

Speedweapon clicked his tongue at the pathetic sight and turned his head.

A traditional, refined Japanese kimono, hair elegantly tied up, calm expression. Her once stern face was softened with makeup, giving her a noble and serene air.

‘Saki Ryozo.’

She was just as eye-catching. Normally, Abel would’ve gotten all the attention, but now it was evenly split.

‘They say a girl’s transformation knows no bounds, but seriously—can a person change this much?’

Though, in part, he understood.

Speedweapon had long known why both girls had gone to such lengths tonight.

‘Because they want to look good for the President.’

He was the only one in the Heavenly Class who had noticed their feelings. Not because he was particularly sharp, but because the others were terribly slow.

Chloe was born an assassin—no chance there. Rachel was all muscle and didn’t get romance.

‘And Horntail and Leon? They just don’t care about anyone.’

That’s why, as a normal guy, he could empathize with Abel and Ryozo.

Granted, both girls had put superhuman effort into hiding their feelings. But that wasn’t enough to fool someone like him.

Honestly, it was way too obvious.

‘And by now, they don’t even seem to want to hide it.’

Speedweapon sighed. Suddenly feeling thirsty, he downed his juice in one gulp.

“What can you do, girls? You’ve fallen for guys with no common sense. Consider it karma.”

After the sweet sip, he muttered bitterly. After all, they were his friends. All he could do was silently support the clash of two rivals drawn into the same battlefield.

“Now that I think about it, Leon’s not here.”

If he were, the atmosphere would’ve been even more charged.

“Well, I guess he’s got other things to do.”

Attendance at the ball wasn’t mandatory. Unless you held a role like the President’s, it was just a suggestion.

So many students simply didn’t attend. Some thought it was nonsense, others couldn’t afford the outfit and preparation.

‘Between wardrobe and hair, it’s expensive.’

Speedweapon figured that someone as flashy as Leon would definitely show up, so he was surprised he hadn’t.

When he finished his drink, he got up to get a refill.

That’s when he frowned. He had noticed something strange.

A waiter, his back turned, was mixing a pink powder into one of the drinks. Since the table was in a corner, no one else saw.

Grab.

Without a sound, Speedweapon approached and grabbed the man’s shoulder.

With firm eyes, he asked.

“What are you doing?”

The waiter jumped, stammering, unsure of what to say. Speedweapon pressed with authority.

“Tell me. What’s that powder you’re putting in the drinks?”

Pressed, the waiter shut his eyes tight. And suddenly, he pulled a dagger from inside his jacket and attacked.

“W-what—?”

The one who was shocked was the waiter himself—because Speedweapon caught the blade in his palm.

In noir films, characters get stabbed dozens of times and keep going. But that’s fiction.

In reality, even a small cut can paralyze someone. The body contracts with the mind. Even if you can move, fear weakens you. You become easier to overpower.

That’s why the waiter—a self-proclaimed infiltration veteran—chose to attack outright, without excuses or words. If he could handle it quietly, he could cover it up afterward.

That was the plan to keep the day’s operation running smoothly.

But—

Speedweapon only slightly furrowed his brow. Even with a knife in his hand, he didn’t scream or freeze. After all, he was used to dying again and again in the Heavenly Class. He had developed a tolerance for pain and fear.

“Hurts more than it does in subspace, though.”

With the blade still through his palm, Speedweapon grabbed the waiter’s hand. Then, with his unharmed right hand, he landed a punch straight into the waiter’s jaw.

Thud!

The waiter collapsed instantly. His hand still held the knife, which flew through the air.

Speedweapon didn’t waste time pulling it out of his hand. First, he tried to shout to alert the ballroom. Everything had happened so fast that no one had noticed yet.

“Huh, eh…”

But at that moment, his body gave out. Not by will. His vision blurred, darkness nibbling at him. His pupils dulled. A second later, his forehead struck the floor. Crack—his nasal bone broke.

Corners are blind spots. No one pays much attention to them. A few glanced over, but thought he was just a drunk. After all, he wasn’t the only one slumped against a wall.

“P… pres…”

Speedweapon mumbled with the little breath he had left. But his voice never reached the ballroom. Soon after, his breathing grew faint, and his eyelids fell.

***

“Miss.”

Shail gently tapped Abel’s shoulder.

Abel, who had been locked in a tense staring contest with Ryozo, turned toward her.

“Hmm? What is it?”

Shail raised a finger and pointed toward a less crowded corner.

“I think your friend’s passed out over there.”

Abel squinted and looked in the direction she pointed. What she saw was Speedweapon’s head slumped on the floor.

“…What is he doing?”

At that moment, a middle-aged man holding a wine glass began to sway. Others around them were also shaking their heads in confusion or blinking heavily.

“What? I only had one drink, and I’m already dizzy…?”

One by one, guests collapsed. Their knees buckled, and the glasses in their hands shattered against the stone floor.

In an instant, more than half the ballroom had fallen unconscious, their eyes rolled back.

The situation unfolded so suddenly that no one reacted in time.

Amidst the chaos, the waiters pulled handkerchiefs over the lower halves of their faces. Then, they drew hidden daggers from their sleeves and began closing in.

Shail frowned. From the way they moved and concealed their presence, she knew they weren’t ordinary thugs. And there were many of them.

‘Roughly forty.’

Worse still, the few who could fight had drunk alcohol.

They were barely standing. Relying on them immediately would be difficult.

Wasting no time, Shail exchanged glances with Karon and asked.

“Did you drink, Mr. Karon?”

“A sip. But I can fight just fine.”

“As if I’m worried about you. By the way, is the poison lethal?”

“I don’t think so. From what I know, no poison kills with just a few drinks. Probably a strong sedative at most.”

After confirming that, Shail looked to Abel, who had had her back to them until now.

Abel went pale for a moment, then stuck her fingers down her throat and forced herself to vomit.

“Shit…”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and, without hesitation, grabbed the sword she had left leaning against the wall.

Shail and Karon stared wide-eyed. Only a few seconds had passed before she regained her composure. It was an impressive reaction.

“Don’t tell me to run. I bet it’s even worse outside.”

A firm declaration. At that, Shail and Karon smiled and turned toward the enemies.

“The young lady’s grown quite a bit.”

“Seems so. We might be out of a job soon.”

“Mr. Karon, you really should be thinking about retiring.”

Shail drew a long stiletto from its sheath and pointed it at the approaching enemies.

“But I plan to serve the Nibelung family to the end.”

“Well, I’ll stick around until the young lady and Heavenly Sword graduate from this academy.”

“Then I’ll keep serving until the young lady’s granddaughter.”

At that moment, the waiters lunged with their knives.

Karon calmly scanned them, unfazed by the charge.

“What kind of waiters are these, lacking the most basic skills?”

As he put on a pair of gloves, he snapped his fingers.

“Let me teach you the fundamentals.”

Suddenly, the attackers froze in their tracks, as if they’d slammed into something invisible.

Slash!

A spray of blood erupted into the air. Chunks of flesh and crimson liquid floated midair, tangled in fine silver threads like a spiderweb.

“Make good use of it in the afterlife.”

Among the scattered, silvery web, a monocle glinted. Beneath it, a fierce smile made the remaining waiters catch their breath.