Chapter4: Zeke Grandel
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The carriage moved steadily along the long road, the sound of its wheels slow… almost unnaturally rhythmic.
Dillon had his eyes closed, deep in thought. But he wasn't a fool. Ever since leaving the palace, the guard hadn't stopped casting strange glances at him.
"Something is wrong here."
First… who would send a single guard to escort a prince?
Second… there had been many carriages when they arrived here. Where did they all go?
Third… the guard's gaze. From the very beginning, it carried an unnatural hostility… and ever since they left, he hadn't stopped watching him.
"Yes… without a doubt, something strange is going on."
Dillon slowly opened his eyes, lifting his head toward the guard.
"Guard… are you alright? Is something bothering you?"
With a faint smile, he asked.
The guard glanced back at him from the front of the carriage before replying,
"Of course not, young master. What made you think that?"
"Oh, nothing really…" Dillon paused briefly before finishing,
"Those looks of yours… they're quite irritating."
At those words, the carriage slowly came to a stop.
The guard turned toward his prince. With a well-built body, blond hair, and green eyes, he looked more like a noble from some kingdom than a mere guard.
He stared at Dillon for a long moment… then slowly formed a terrifying smile.
And the next instant—
"Krrsh—!"
Something pierced through the carriage, aiming straight for Dillon's neck.
A sword.
But of course… Dillon dodged it.
Without wasting a single moment, he kicked the door open and dashed outside.
"Where is that bastard…?"
He ran through the forest—not to escape, but to hunt.
"Don't worry, young master," the guard's voice echoed mockingly. "I won't be too rough… though I can't guarantee you'll live."
Dillon ignored him.
The moment he stepped outside, he had already sensed something off. He was prepared.
"Shing!"
A shadow appeared behind him, blade raised to strike.
But Dillon reacted instantly.
With a graceful turn, he drew his sword from his storage and blocked the attack. The clash of steel rang through the forest.
"Clang!"
The attacker was shocked.
He hadn't expected a child to react like that.
He quickly retreated.
"Hmph… as expected. But I didn't think they'd move this fast…"
"To send an assassin after a prince… quite bold, aren't they?"
Despite his words, Dillon wasn't surprised. His expression remained cold… his killing intent rising.
Dressed in black, his face wrapped in cloth, the assassin charged again.
"Clang!"
"Krrrsh!"
"Shing!"
Blades collided again and again, sparks flying with each strike.
With every exchange, the assassin grew more shocked.
"Damn it! How can a child have this level of skill?!"
He stepped back, trying to catch his breath.
Dillon, on the other hand, remained completely indifferent.
"Sorry, kid… but I'll get serious now. Don't blame me!"
Gripping his sword with both hands, the assassin raised it high and brought it down in a straight slash.
But Dillon didn't dodge.
He had a reason.
He raised his sword horizontally—
"Ghh—!"
His teeth clenched as he spat blood, enduring the force.
The assassin didn't give him time to recover.
Pulling back instantly, he thrust his blade toward Dillon's chest.
But Dillon had already regained his balance.
Tilting his head slightly, he slipped down—
The blade passed by his face, leaving a deep cut across his left cheek.
Did he flinch?
No.
His expression remained cold. His eyes… empty.
Seeing that, the assassin froze for a split second.
Cold sweat ran down his back.
"What the hell…? Is he really a child?!"
"I need to finish this fast."
He straightened up and plunged his sword into the ground.
The earth trembled, stones rising as energy gathered around him, forming a crimson aura.
"Finally getting serious?" Dillon scoffed lazily.
Was the opponent strong?
Not really.
Even as a child, Dillon could end this instantly.
But his techniques were too advanced—if he used them recklessly, his body might collapse.
And the second reason…
"Die!"
The assassin rushed forward, killing intent exploding.
Dillon didn't move.
He stood still, watching the blade approach his neck at incredible speed.
And just as it reached—
"Slash."
The assassin's arm flew into the air.
Blood sprayed.
---
"AAAAARGH!"
Screaming in agony, the assassin collapsed to his knees, blood pouring as his severed arm fell.
He was in shock.
Dillon had already expected this outcome.
Yet he feigned confusion, dropping to the ground.
All for… credibility.
Moments later, a figure appeared.
A tall man. Slim build. Elegant attire. A worn face with a beard covering his cheeks. Gray hair… green eyes.
Dillon recognized him instantly.
"Huh? What is he doing here…?"
For a brief moment, he couldn't hide his surprise.
"H-Huh? Who are you?" he stammered deliberately.
The man looked at Dillon for a few seconds, then turned away.
"Don't worry, young master. Everything is under control."
"Oh~ young master, you say?" Dillon covered his mouth, barely hiding a grin.
The man approached the assassin—
In a single, swift motion—
He beheaded him.
So fast… it was as if he hadn't even moved.
"Seems the road ahead will be long…" Dillon sighed inwardly.
"Young master, are you alright?"
"Yes… I'm fine."
He quickly stood up beside the man.
The man looked at him with suspicion.
"Young master… did you know I was following you?"
Of course I knew. Dillon thought.
Otherwise, why would I take such a risk?
To hide his presence to that level… and yet I still noticed him.
As for that assassin… his killing intent was obvious.
It'll be hard to shake his suspicion now… I need a solution.
Ah… got it.
"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Huh…?"
Dillon suddenly collapsed.
He lost consciousness.
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Dillon slowly opened his eyes.
He examined his surroundings and quickly realized where he was.
Inside the carriage.
He adjusted his sitting position before shifting his gaze toward the driver's seat.
That man from earlier was still the one in control.
Dillon had "lost consciousness"… or at least, that's what the man believed.
In reality, Dillon had done it on purpose—to avoid suspicion.
"This isn't enough… if I want his trust and to remove his doubts, I'll need more."
The man had seen everything.
And he was suspicious.
After all, what Dillon had done earlier… was far beyond what a child his age should be capable of.
More importantly, the man in front of him was obsessed with courage and valor.
He knew him very well.
Slowly, he drew his sword.
He leaned out of the small window… then placed the blade against the man's neck.
"Young master… you're awake? We're almost at the palace."
The man's expression didn't change in the slightest.
He had sensed every single movement Dillon made.
"Stop the carriage. Now."
Hearing this, the man gradually slowed the carriage until it came to a complete halt.
Then Dillon spoke again.
"Now… tell me who you are, and why you came to save me."
A faint smile appeared on the man's face.
He reached into his pocket and took out a badge, showing it to him.
"Huh…? What?! Are you…?!"
Of course, Dillon already knew what that symbol meant.
But acting was necessary.
The moment he saw it, he jumped back and lowered his sword.
It was a golden emblem… engraved with a dragon, and the number two.
"That's correct."
"The Left Hand of King Narcelle… Zeke Grandel, at your service, young master."
He knew him after all.
In his previous life—
He was the one who killed him.
"Ah… I see… I'm sorry for that."
He stammered deliberately, as if embarrassed.
"It's fine, young master. Please, have a seat. We're almost there."
Hearing that, Dillon sat down.
A few minutes later—
They arrived at the main palace.
He stepped down lightly from the carriage, walking beside Zeke before asking,
"So… what happened to that guard?"
"Oh, that one? I sent him earlier with some soldiers for interrogation. No need to worry about it."
"…I see."
He knew zeck was lying.
Earlier… he hadn't sensed anyone else's presence.
"Fine… I'll learn the truth later." he thought.
They walked forward.
And soon, the view before them revealed itself—
A massive palace, extravagantly decorated.
Its garden alone was as large as a village.
At its center stood a grand fountain, adorned with precious stones.
The familiar sight of servants and guards stirred old memories within Dillon.
Because in his previous life…
This place—
Had been destroyed by his own hands.
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