A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The Black Blade bandits were large enough in scale to be called a small territorial state. Because of this, they were regarded as one of the biggest plagues and diseases afflicting Naurillia and its kingdom.

They were dangerous, without question.

A piece of cheese fell from the mouth of one of their executives. His shock was evident as he processed the words he had just heard. Picking up a linen napkin, he wiped his mouth haphazardly before speaking.

“All the assassins are dead?”

They sent Swiftblade, and he was eliminated.

They sent a mercenary company, and it was annihilated.

Afterward, the Black Blade executive emptied his coffers, gathering an elite group of assassins.

He had sent an entire squad composed of first-rate assassins.

And they had failed.

Bang!

The executive slammed his fist onto the table, roaring in frustration.

“Are you trying to throw the Black Blade’s reputation into the gutter?!”@@novelbin@@

So, you’re good at fighting, are you? Fine, let’s see how you handle this.

He had scoured their branch for every assassin available. Even the elite ones were summoned and sent.

It didn’t matter how skilled a warrior was—no one could survive a knife in the back. Especially not when it was coated in poison.

Over fifteen assassins, all of them proficient in the use of poison and blades, had been dispatched.

Even if they couldn’t kill their target outright, shouldn’t they at least have inflicted serious injuries?

“And he’s completely fine? What about our men?”

“They’re all dead,” came the reply.

“What about the observer we left behind?”

“Dead as well.”