The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 194

'Dammit, what if the Commander is disappointed in me? What if I’m no longer fit to stand by her side? Ugh!'

……Of course, his true feelings weren’t quite what Ulbhild assumed.

'Allen.'

In truth, Ulbhild’s thoughts were preoccupied with the very man the battalion envied so much.

'What are you up to now?'

Yesterday, at the Grand Commander’s request, she had carried out a joint operation with Rudgarda 6th battalion.

"The Young master asked for my help," Ludgarda had mentioned offhandedly.

"Something big is about to go down with the Bisakino Brotherhood. He said when the time comes, he’d need my men to back him up."

……And then, as if fate had planned it—

Today, a massive internal conflict erupted within the Bisakino Brotherhood, forcing the royal guards and security guards to intervene just to maintain order.

'You bastard.'

Ulbhild knew instantly.

'You’re neck-deep in this mess, aren’t you?'

It was astonishing. Not long ago, he was just a nobleman training under her. Now, he was entangled in the power struggles of Grunewald’s underworld—no, the war between the five major organizations.

'That unpredictability of yours… It might just be the key to surpassing even Verdzig.'

For now, she would trust Allenbert’s judgment and wait.

***

Like a wolf stalking prey, I roamed the sleepless streets of Grunewald City.

Where in this vast city were the assassins hiding?

To find them, I first had to understand the two ways assassins concealed themselves.

1. Hiding in plain sight.

As the saying goes, the darkest place is under the lamp. Blend into the crowd, act ordinary, and you become invisible. These types might stroll the streets casually or sit in taverns, watching their targets from a distance.

2. The classic method—disappearing where no eyes reach.

Safehouses, inn rooms, even chimneys—anywhere secluded. If they hole up properly, even a manhunt won’t find them.

'Of course, spotting them is another skill entirely.'

The suspicious, the out-of-place, even those too ordinary or too quiet—all warrant suspicion. Assassins’ mimicry is terrifyingly precise.

'So first, I’ll use insight star.'

I channeled the full power of my Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique, spreading my sensory net as wide and dense as possible, scouring every corner of the city—main streets, taverns, inns, black markets.

'Feels like my skull’s about to split. Damn it.'

The flood of information was overwhelming, my brain practically overheating. But I had to endure. Even the smallest clue could lead me to the assassins sent by that infamous clan.

……

Before I knew it, the moon had climbed high.

In a back alley where a night market bustled, I spotted two men who stood out unnaturally in the crowd.

'……Those two.'

They were obviously suspicious.

Well-built bodies, sharp yet plain faces, and—ridiculously—black sunglasses at night.

'Who the hell wears pitch-black shades in the dark?'

Yet no one seemed to notice them. No double takes, no odd glances—nothing.

'Absurd.'

I closed my eyes, cut off my sensory net, then opened them again.

'……Huh.'

The men I had clearly sensed moments ago now felt like pebbles on the roadside—blending into the scenery, completely outside my awareness.

'……Chilling.'

I knew—these were Svaltalfar’s assassins. If I hadn’t activated my senses, and they had slipped through the crowd to stab me—

Would I have dodged in time?

'Goosebumps.'

So the name Assassin Clan wasn’t just for show. These were top-tier killers.

'And it’s two against one. A bit dicey.'

But no matter. With Whispering Snow in the Night and the Seven Stars of the Black Sea, my stealth was already unmatched.

'Worth a shot.'

I activated Whispering Snow in the Night, veiled my presence, and wrapped myself in another layer of concealment with Dark Star’s power.

Then, I reopened my senses—and the two men melted back into the world.

'……Let’s go.'

I moved toward them, silent as a shadow.

***

"This is getting messy."

"Just kill ’em all."

"No, brother."

Ghir and Drak—

The two brothers of Svaltalfar strolled freely through Grunewald’s streets, discussing their next move while snacking on sweets.

"This is good."

"Hmph. Edible. Still trash."

"Anyway, listen—"

Drak clicked his tongue at his brother’s crude phrasing.

"So what’s the plan?"

"I’m still sorting it out. Let’s recap."

Drak spoke calmly.

"We’re stuck in limbo. We sent the Godfather an ultimatum—hand over Futen or else. But before he could decide, Futen staged a coup and killed him."

"Which is why I said we should’ve just stormed in and taken his head."

"We followed the clan’s protocols. Complaining won’t change that."

"Tch!"

Ghir snorted.

"Elders make life a pain in the ass."

"You can change the rules when you’re old. For now, deal with it."

Drak replied flatly.

"Point is, now there’s a power struggle—Futen’s faction vs. the Godfather’s loyalists."

Of course, they weren’t just idly wandering. They’d been gathering intel, listening to rumors about the city’s unrest.

"Grunewald’s underworld has its own rules. We have to respect that, to a degree."

"So?"

"If Futen wins, we have to kill the head of the Bisakino Brotherhood, right? That’s gonna cause a backlash."

"Then kill him before that."

"Interfering in their civil war would count as external meddling. Someone will call us out."

"Let the old farts deal with it. Just slaughter them and go."

"Then you’d be adding more problems to the ones we already have."

"Damn it all."

Ghir devoured his snack in one bite, chewing furiously as he rubbed his temples.

"Then what? Go back and say, Oh, Futen or whatever took over, so we just came home? That it?"

"For now—"

Drak sighed lightly.

"We wait. Ideally, the opposition wins. If things look dire, we either quietly eliminate Futen or negotiate with the new leader."

"Bullshit."

Ghir clawed at his wild, unkempt hair.

"You know I’m at my limit. If I don’t kill someone soon, I’ll lose it."

Ghir Svaltalfar’s masterpiece and monster. His curse was an insatiable bloodlust, a sickness that demanded slaughter.

"I know. I’ll figure something out."

Drak, who knew him better than anyone, responded first.

"First off, we don't even know where that bastard ran off to. He might've bolted the moment he heard we were coming."

"That little shit... There's something off about him. He's not normal."

Ghir spoke with the sharp intuition of a beast.

"Exactly. And the Agrippa bastards were acting shady too."

They had gone to question the Agrippa, whom they had contracted through personnel, but for some reason, the responses had been evasive.

"Is this place cursed or what? Everyone here's got something to hide."

"Good thing we've got dark eyes too."

"Stop with the stupid jokes, it's not funny."

Ghir spat on the ground.

"Then how about we lend a hand to the opposition faction? Help them win?"

"Hmm..."

Drak rubbed his chin, considering the idea—uncharacteristically reasonable for him—when suddenly:

"That sounds like a great idea."

"?"

"!"

At the completely unexpected intrusion of Karzan's voice, the two assassins turned their heads sharply.

"The hell are you?"

Ghir's killing intent exploded instantly.

"How the hell did you 'perceive' us?"

The air turned icy—

An invisible pressure licked at Karzan's throat like a blade, and in the next moment, a dagger sliced through his afterimage.

"?!"

Ghir's eyebrow twitched as he realized he'd missed the real target.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down."

Karzan, having dodged with ghostly agility, raised his palms in a placating gesture.

"Aren't you even curious? If you just cut my throat first, you'll never know what's going on. Take a breath."

"...You little shit."

Ghir growled like a wild animal.

"Not bad. Dodged that?"

"Could've dodged better. You're not bad yourself."

Karzan replied nonchalantly, but internally—

'Damn, that almost got me.'

He was wiping cold sweat off his back.

'Disgustingly fast.'

He had moved the instant he sensed the attack through instinct and energy perception.

Yet it had still been a hair's breadth away. He could feel the blade graze the fine hairs on his nape.

'Almost dug my own grave with that bluff.'

But in the end, Karzan had dodged Ghir's strike—something that demanded their wariness.

"Alright, brothers? Now that we're calm, let's talk—"

Then, Ghir removed his sunglasses, revealing pitch-black demonic eyes.

"Just shut up and die."

In the same motion, the dagger in his hand shot straight for Karzan's throat.

***

"Oh, for fuck's sake—!"

KAAANG!

I blocked the obsidian dagger—painted black for night ops, how cheap—with my bracer-blade.

"Oho? Using artifacts?"

Ghir grinned, his lips stretching unnaturally wide.

"This place is fun. Freaks like you keep popping up."

"No, wait—hold on—"

Even I was taken aback by this lunatic's behavior.

"You're actually insane."

For Karzan the Mad Dog to be slightly flustered? This guy was on another level.

"You're really not even going to talk?"

"Hey, brother. Maybe hear him out first."

The calmer one tried to intervene, but—

"Shut it!"

The lion-maned psycho lunged at me again.

"Perfect timing. I was getting bored."

"Why the hell are you like this?!"

"Hah, obviously! If I listen to your sob story, I might not be able to kill you afterward because of some 'complicated' circumstances!"

"What kind of dogshit logic is that?!"

This guy wasn't an assassin—he was a full-blown murderer.

"Fine. Fine, I get it."

I raised my hands in surrender.

"Just hear me out for a second."

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"Now what?"

His eyebrow twitched.

"Even if we fight, shouldn't we move somewhere less crowded?"

"Huh?"

"Fighting an assassin in the middle of a night market? Kinda weird, don't you think?"

"Bullshit. What kind of trick is this?"

But this madman just snorted, clearly unfazed.

"Can't wait any longer. Let's start."

Then—without warning—he grabbed a copper cup from a nearby stall, infused it with energy, and hurled it at me like a projectile.

'This guy's impossible to reason with.'

I dodged the now-lethal cup, crouched low, and scooped up a handful of loose pebbles from the ground.

BAM!

Shockingly, he blocked the spray with just his forearms, shielding only his face.

"Hmph!"

It was absurd. I'd thrown them with considerable force, yet none even pierced him.

'A monster, just like the rumors.'

Then from here on out—it's the real deal.

To avoid a 2v1, I aimed for the weaker-looking younger brother first, unleashing the Flowing Cloud Thunder Fist's palm force.

BOOOM!

The guy crossed his arms, took the hit, and was pushed back—but seemed unharmed.

'No real damage?'

Maybe he was deliberately holding back because of his crazy brother. He did seem like he wanted to talk.

'Good. Then—

I needed to show my strength.

But not here.

"Catch me if you can!"

I kicked off with Scarlet Cloud Ghost Path, darting between buildings.

"You little—! Where do you think you're running?!"

The madman chased instantly.

"Just changing venues! Don't wanna make a scene!"

"Annoying bastard!"

'That's my line, dumbass.'

Does this idiot even realize how many eyes are watching Grunewald right now?

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]