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As soon as Lugo finished his sentence, Karen’s eyes widened before Leon’s, and she shouted, “Wait, did you just say Cedric? The Sword Demon?!”
For Karen, having lived long as an adventurer and once as an assassin, there was information that was impossible for her not to know. An assassin might bring down someone stronger, but even the best had less than half a chance against an Expert. Against a Master, the odds fell to nothing.
Unless an assassin had reached the level of an Assassin Master like Karen herself, a hundred attempts only meant a hundred deaths. Because of that reality, assassins kept their own blacklists of names never to be touched. The lists varied, but the top ten were always fixed.
Cedric the Sword Demon? He was always among the top three.
“You called in a man who butchers people for sport, who takes more joy in cutting down men than eating three meals a day? A mad butcher who’ll cut down nobles, royals—anyone in reach of his blade—as your examiner? Are you insane?!”
Her outburst left Lugo hiccupping in panic...
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