An Old Country Bumpkin Becomes Convinced

The assassins had slipped past the knights guarding the perimeter and made it here.

Their numbers... They were greater than before. Was it because there was nowhere to hide, or were they prepared to die in a last stand? They seemed to be charging straight at us in a steady stream.

Actually, the knights on guard need to do their jobs! How are so many of them slipping through? It wasn't just a few—at this rate, we could end up surrounded on all sides.

"—Hah!"

"Gah!"

I cut down the black-clad man who charged at us first. Sorry, but this was no time to hold back, and there were too many of them for that.

At the same time, I found myself wondering how my opening slash had landed so easily.

Weren't these guys noticeably weaker than the last bunch?

They certainly had numbers, but their skill seemed far below that of the previous attackers. Of course, I wouldn't say every one of them was a pushover—not in this situation—but during the first attack, it had taken me quite a while to deal with just one of them.

Maybe this attack was all about numbers. They couldn't secure quality, so they were throwing quantity at us instead. Something like that...