"Damn it. So I really did fall asleep…"
Seven wiped his face using his sleeve, rubbing his eyes.
It was frustrating. He had gone to such lengths to visualize that absurd scene just to stay awake, but lost the battle in the end.
Still, he was lucky to not die in his bed.
Scribble, scribble!
He circled the 7th day of Nocten before heading for a bath.
Afterward, he ate the breakfast Iria had prepared on the desk— a potato stew, a herbal tea made from camellia sinensis, and lots and lots of meat.
Munch, munch!
It didn't take him long to enjoy the meal, and opened the window to throw the herbal tea as usual, it tastes nasty!
For some reason, it was eerily silent today. In fact, he noticed some discrepancies after a few minutes of staring out the window: he had yet to see any knights patrolling the manor as usual!
"To think that they're slacking off just because it's Sunday, such irresponsible knights."
It was true that the knights have families to spend their Sundays with, but shouldn't they at least leave a few numbers to guard the manor?
Perhaps, this was likely how the Seven Hart of the novel met his end. The manor was so empty that a giant could have strode through the corridors unnoticed, let alone a trained knight (assassin).
"By any chance, is this the old man's doing…?"
Thing is, there's a high possibility that this was an order by the old man, given his rank as the platoon knight commander.
But then…
"O-oh, there's one."
A knight finally passed by, in full armor, but not patrolling the premises— walking towards the training camp's direction instead, in a hurry.
"Ah, right. I'll be late for training."
Perhaps, the knights weren't lazing around since Sundays doesn't automatically mean a day off. They could be in the training camp!
Step, step.
Stepping outside, he followed the knight to the training camp. The reason is, because if the enemy is a lion, then there's no other safer place than the lion's den itself.
After all, staying close to the knights should keep him safe, as Aizen wouldn't probably(?) dare act in such a way of harming him in front of his men (only if they aren't accomplices).
Apparently, that was a part of his plan; to train with the knight and observe who among them was strong enough to be his meat shield— ah, to protect him if things went awry rather.
Step, st— Wham!
A wooden crate slammed into the ground, slipping from the grasp of the very knight Seven had just collided with, and the same knight he had followed. Inside, the object seemed to be a lantern and a few iron swords.
"Please forgive my clumsiness, young lord. I was in such a rush that I... I completely lost my bearings!"
The knight began bowing his head repeatedly, the sound of his frantic apologies. But his desperation seemed almost exaggerated like he was more terrified of being delayed than of the man standing in front of him.
"What is this?"
Seven gestured toward the massive wooden crate that had nearly crushed his toes.
"T-this? It's… a warding lantern, young lord," the knight wiped a sweat off his brow, proceeding to state the purpose of the device.
Seven frowned. He didn't need a lecture on the basics; the novel had described these devices in detail: when placed at the four corners of a perimeter, they generated a protective ward.
"I can see that. I'm asking why you're hauling it and running around in such a hurry?"
"It's for the village. There's an imp stampede, young lord. They're breaking through the lines as we speak. The rest of the knights are already at the perimeter trying to hold them back."
"An imp… stampede?"
"Yes. One of the warding lanterns shattered, and those motherfu—" the knight bit back the curse, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Apologies. Those creatures are flooding through the gap. Lady Iria sent me to fetch this replacement lantern, and sir Edward ordered the extra blades sent to the front immediately."
"Iria? Is she also in the village right now?"
"Yes. As the only mage here, she's the only one capable of calibrating the lantern to restore the barrier," the knight panted, suddenly remembering other instructions. "Ah, lady Iria also gave me a strict message for you. You are not to follow me to the village. She insists that you remain safely within the manor walls."
The knight hoisted the heavy crate back into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight, and gestured back toward the manor.
"Let's go, young lord. I'll escort you back to your chambers before I head out."
"No need."
"Pardon?"
"I said there was no need. I'm going to fetch a wooden sword to practice. I can find my way back to the manor on my own."
"But—"
"Enough. The village needs that lantern and those swords more than I need an escort. You're wasting time. Hurry up."
"O-okay. Understood, young lord!"
The knight didn't dare argue further and left.
Seven watched him go until the knight finally disappeared from his line of sight.
"Sigh. That was a waste. I should've kept him around as a meat shield."
As much as he valued his own life, sacrificing the entire village just for a mediocre knight felt unnecessarily petty, especially since the knight hadn't even formed a ring yet, and would have been useless against the old man nonetheless.
Step, step.
After just a few steps, he reached the training camp.
He checked from tent to tent, searching for a proper sword but the knights had taken every scrap of sharpened iron to the front lines.
Left with no other choice, he reached for a sturdy wooden practice sword.
"Old man, you're pretty clever. To think you'd use the village as leverage just to strip the guards from my side…"
The pieces were falling into place. The imp stampede wasn't a random disaster; it was a calculated diversion.
In any other situation, a breach like that would mean heavy casualties for the commoners, but these were just imps. Given the sheer strength of the manor's knights, the monsters were little more than a nuisance, unless the real purpose was simply to empty the house.
He tightened his grip on the wooden hilt, the grain of the oak was rough against his palm.
"If the imps are the distraction, then the real threat should be arriving right about... now—?!"
Thwack!
Before he could even finish, a searing pain exploded in his chest.
He gasped, his breath hitching as he looked down as an arrow crudely made from a broken tree branch was buried deep in his torso, missing his heart by a mere inch.
Blood began to bloom across his white polo long sleeve.
"You finally showed up, old—"
His voice died in his throat as the figure stepped fully out from behind the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak— his eyes widened in genuine shock!
It wasn't the old man as he had suspected at all!
Standing there, clutching a crude bow made of scavenged wood and sinew, was a creature barely three feet tall. Its skin was the color of bruised plums, mottled and oily, and its eyes glowed with a frantic, hungry yellow light.
"An imp?!"
"Kikiki!"