In a split second, Henry aimed his hand at Cameon. A beam of light shot from his palm.
Cameon stepped several meters back. A creepy smile formed across his face.
He was amused.
Uncle Henry dropped to one knee. Blood leaked from his abdomen, the sword still lodged inside him.
I ran to his side, aiming one of the light rods at Cameon.
Was he a traitor?
The Baron recognized him, so I was certain he wasn't some stranger who had snuck in.
Then, as if he had read my mind, Cameon's face began to shift.
No.
His entire body was reforming.
Into the shape of the masked corpse lying on the ground.
"Where's Cameon?!"
I demanded.
Had he shapeshifted into Cameon when he rushed off earlier?
Then where was the masked corpse?
Wait.
The corpse was gone.
My heartbeat quickened.
Cold sweat trickled down my neck as a terrible realization struck me.
Shit!
I immediately turned toward the princess.
She still lay unconscious on the ground.
Safe.
At least—
"Alan! Watch out!" the Viscount shrieked.
A chill ran down my spine.
Beside me!
Shit!
I let my guard down.
I tried to dodge, a powerful kick slammed into my side.
The masked man sent me flying.
But it wasn't the one who stabbed Henry.
It was the fake corpse.
Uncle Henry turned toward the fake corpse too late, his expression mirroring my shock.
I twisted my body and let my left side slam into the large oak tree. The impact broke my left arm, but thanks to that, I didn't lose consciousness immediately.
Uncle Henry froze for a split second as the realization hit him.
The fake corpse had been alive the entire time.
By the time he tried to turn back—
the masked man had already moved.
He rushed toward the Viscount the moment he saw the opening.
Shlck!
The masked man twisted the sword buried in Uncle Henry's stomach. Then he giggled as he pulled it out.
Henry could only let out pained grunts before collapsing onto the ground.
The rods of light had scattered across the field, but I still held one tightly in my right hand.
I hid it behind my back, making sure its glow remained concealed.
"Who are you? What's your purpose? I demand an explanation!" I stalled.
I needed him to think I was just an arrogant brat.
That was the only way to lower his guard.
The masked man holding the sword grinned.
"Oh my, how rude of me."
The masked man gave a mocking curtsy.
"I am the Mime, a Juror of Pierrot's Laughing Court!"
I was right.
God, I wished I wasn't.
The Mime laughed, sounding as though he'd been waiting forever to introduce himself.
I tensed, refusing to lower my guard.
I glanced at the other Mime.
He had been standing still for a while now, yet he remained close to the swordsmime.
They guarded each other more carefully than I expected.
"Enough, Three. This guy must be dead by now."
So they used numbers to identify the clones.
The Mime glanced toward the fog-covered forest and giggled.
"Nine is fighting the brats somewhere nearby. I'll capture them and use them as hostages against the Count."
"Brats?"
My eyes widened.
Thea and Amon!
The Mime tilted his head slightly.
"Two's already been killed. It's only a matter of time before the others die too…"
Then his masked face slowly turned toward me before he picked up the teleportation glyph.
"Let's end the game while the odds are still in our favor."
The grin beneath the mask widened.
"Finish the brat off."
He then skipped away until he disappeared into the fog.
Amon and Thea were alive.
I needed to help them.
But Mime Number Three was still here.
If I could just get a clear shot…
I could contact Father using the communication device afterward.
The Mime that remained sighed. He thought the fun was ending too soon.
However, he still wanted to savor the little time he had left.
He turned toward me.
"You asked earlier what happened to Cameon, right?"
Number Three smirked.
"I killed him earlier. Kehehehe… he kept waiting for his lords to come save him."
The Mime tilted his head mockingly.
"How tragic."
The masked man said in a taunting tone before giggling.
"You should have seen the look on his face when he realized no one was coming."
My heart grew heavy.
"He died calling out for help. Kehehehe!"
He seemed to revel in the memory and in my grimaced expression.
"A pathetic death for a pathetic knight."
His chortle echoed in my head like a curse, clawing through my thoughts and tearing apart my composure.
My breathing grew uneven.
My fingers trembled around the light rod.
Even my resolve began to waver.
My fault.
I should have waited for him or followed him.
The south and west groups had been eliminated.
Eliminated?
Dead?
Wasn't Amon's father there?
Did he die too?
Dead?
Uncle wasn't moving.
Dead?
What should I do?
"If you hadn't revealed my blessing to anyone, or if you had just ignored your suspicions, then..."
He smiled.
"No one would have to die."
His words deeply etched themselves into my soul.
For some reason, I believed him.
Seeing me in such a shaken state, the Mime leisurely approached me.
To him, he had already won.
Until—
Grk!
Uncle Henry desperately clung to the Mime's leg even while lying face-down on the ground.
"How bothersome."
He looked at the man on the ground as though he were a pathetic bug to be crushed.
The Mime gripped the sword with both hands.
He prepared to drive it through the Viscount's skull.
He'll die.
I'm still useless...
Uncle's head lifted slightly. Our eyes met for a moment before his face slumped back onto the ground.
His amethyst eyes were unwavering.
He still trusted me.
Get yourself together, Alan Spades!
This isn't his execution.
It's an opportunity.
Then—
I didn't think.
I didn't calculate the trajectory.
I had to trust my instincts.
I hurled the light rod.
Chk!
Mime Number Three reacted instantly. He twisted his body and tried to swat the rod away with his sword.
But he wasn't fast enough.
The rod pierced through his right hand before exploding.
The blast tore apart the right side of his body.
But he still wasn't dead.
In the very next second, he shifted his attention back toward the Viscount.
However, Uncle Henry—whose hands still clung desperately to the Mime's leg—suddenly emitted a powerful light.
Vwoooom—
A pillar of light engulfed the Mime and shot into the sky.
*****
Elsewhere within the fog.
Vwoooom—
A beacon of light shined from the center of the forest.
Three's gone.
He must have played too long.
Not a big deal.
Seven and Eight were already on their way. Once they regrouped with Four and Five, even the Count would struggle to break through.
Everything was still proceeding as planned.
All that remained was capturing the brats and forcing negotiations.
The fog still covered the forest.
Foolish anomaly.
He must've exhausted the last of his strength killing Three.
He wouldn't be moving anytime soon.
And the Spades brat?
A wounded child trembling in the middle of the forest.
Hardly a threat.
The corners of my lips curled upward beneath the mask.
I still held the upper hand.
Fwooosh—
What...
The beacon was pulsing?
The fog was being blown away!
Tch!
I have to move quickly.
My thoughts echoed through the other clones.
[Change of plans. Eight and Nine, quickly capture the brats. Four and Five will continue stalling the Count.]
[Six, Seven and I will get the princess.]
-----
Then, at the center of the forest—
A pair of royal-blue eyes slowly fluttered open to the sight of a blinding pillar of light.