“Get out,” one of the figures whispered.
He didn’t have to say it twice. The people fled through the door and the windows. In just a couple of seconds, the noisy tavern was completely deserted. Only the four figures in black and the two friends unsheathing their blades and standing side by side remained.
“Prince,” the voice that came from underneath the black robe was unnatural. “You aren’t on our list. Please leave.”
“Leave?” Nero exclaimed in surprise. “What’s a bachelor party without a fight?”
The figure tilted his head to one side and shrugged.
“As you wish.”
The robed figures drew their weapons in unison: two of them had classic blades, one wielded a pair of daggers, and the forth held a war hammer. Hadjar and Nero met their opponents with joyful smiles. It had been a long time since they’d had a chance to fight some enemies together.
Hadjar could hardly wait to check how much stronger he’d become after advancing even further down the path of cultivation. The General released his energy, and gouges made by invisible swords appeared on the floor beside him.
Chapter 227
“I hope you can keep in mind that this is a party,” Nero said.
The voice of the former Commander of the Bear Squad trembled slightly. Not with fear, but excitement. It had been a while since they’d fought together against a strong and lethal opponent. The enemy even outnumbered them, which was just icing on the cake. While the dark figures circled the friends, they happily continued to discuss the situation.
“What are you getting at?”
Nero rolled his eyes, swung his blade around and put it back into its sheath.
“We came here to have fun,” Nero nodded toward Moon Beam and repeated himself. “Fun!”
Hadjar understood what his blond friend was hinting at.
“Well,” he said at least. “You’re not wrong.”
“Exactly, buddy, exactly.”
They stood back to back. They each had two opponents. Hadjar got the assassin wielding the daggers and one of the swordsmen. Nero faced the other two.
Looking around, Hadjar couldn’t find anything good to wield...
“You should hold the knife in your left hand,” Nero corrected him, defiantly holding up a fork he was holding in his right.
“Thank you,” Hadjar replied seriously, shifting the knife to his other hand.
Their robes hid the murderers’ faces, but it was clear from the tense atmosphere that they were annoyed by their targets’ antics.
“Are you mocking us?” One of them shouted.
“Mocking you?” The former Commander looked surprised. “No, what makes you say that? We are very serious. Aren’t we, Hadj?”
“Yeah.” Hadjar nodded. “I, for example, am trying to remember all the prayers I know.”
“You’ve never prayed in your life.”
“Demons! That’s right, I don’t know any prayers...”
Nero spat and, after sticking his fork into a nearby table, turned to Hadjar.
“Are you serious?” Nero asked angrily. “Our plans were to have a bachelor party, drink some wine, then fight the aristocrats’ assassins, and you forgot to learn how to pray?”
Imitating his friend, Hadjar stuck the knife he’d been holding into a table as well and faced him.
“Do you think it’s easy to learn four hundred lines of that rubbish?”
“Rubbish? Those are prayers, Hadjar! Prayers to the forefathers! These lovely gentlemen are going to send us to them.”
Nero froze mid-sentence, as if an ingenious thought had just occurred to him. He turned back to the assassins and spoke quite earnestly: “Or do you not want to send us to them? I have some difficulties finding my way around, you see. But maybe you have a map...”
The hired killers couldn’t stand it any longer. Their leader, the one with the hammer, screamed like an enraged banshee. “Kill these fools!”
“They are insulting us,” Hadjar sighed, giving the men a reproachful look.
The friends didn’t get to finish their conversation. One of the swordsmen leapt up. He spun and aimed his blade forward, becoming a whirlwind of death. The one with the daggers followed after him. He swung his weapons through the air several times, sending ghostly snakes toward Hadjar. The murderer was clearly well-versed not only in the Way of the Dagger, but also in the Way of Poison. A most unpleasant foe.
Hadjar couldn’t see what was happening behind him, but he knew that Nero would handle it, even with the limits they’d set for their ‘fun’. In the end, what was the point of life if they couldn’t have their fun, risky as it was?
The former General, who still wasn’t unsheathing his blade or invoking the energy at his disposal, picked up a table with his toes. When the black whirlwind crowned with sharp steel and grinning snakes got close to him, he raised his leg sharply. With a crash, the heavy oak table soared into the air.
The sword pierced the heavy oak surface instead of his flesh. It easily cut through it, but... There was a metallic chime afterwards and the table cracked, crumbling into a myriad of long, sharp splinters.
The assassin sank to the floor and stared blankly ahead. His blade had been stopped by the tip of a blunted knife that a smiling Hadjar held in his hand.
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to break other people’s things?” Hadjar asked.
He pushed his palm forward slightly, and the killer was thrown aside. The simple, blunt kitchen knife had almost shattered his blade.
Retreating, the other assassin moved smoothly and calmly. His dark cloak swayed, and from its darkness, snakes launched from the tips of the poisoned daggers emerged.
“Style of a cleaning lady,” Hadjar declared and smiled wolfishly.
He stamped hard on the floor. The sheer force of the action launched the splinters of the table toward the assassin. A whole swarm of razor-sharp, wooden projectiles shredded the dagger wielder’s attack and then kept going, aiming for the murderer himself. He spun, and the splinters ended up lodging in his cloak.
“Style of a cleaning lady? Are you for real?” Nero asked,
