Chapter 294: This Kills People Too? (Patreon)

The curtain drew back.

Three clowns rolled out from either side of the stage, balanced on giant colored balls.

They wore bright, multicolored jumpsuits, their faces painted with exaggerated makeup: red noses, huge mouths, and white greasepaint ringed around their eyes.

The balls rolled beneath their feet, and their bodies swayed with every turn, like three penguins struggling to stay upright in a storm. Their ridiculous antics set the children in the audience giggling.

The three clowns rolled to center stage and began performing all sorts of comical stunts.

"Thud!"

Suddenly, a dull sound rang out.

The clown on the red ball had abruptly fallen off.

It wasn't a deliberate, comical tumble. His body pitched straight off the ball, face-first, and slammed into the carpet with a heavy thump.

Then he lay there, motionless.

The laughter in the audience paused for an instant. Then—

"Hahaha!"

Someone started laughing, and the laughter spread quickly, as if contagious.

"What a terrible fall!"

"Do another one!"

"Get up, get up!"

The children clapped and shouted excitedly, and the adults wore the amused smiles of people enjoying a good show.

Amamiya Rin didn't laugh. A puzzled look crossed his face.

Was that funny? It was just a clown falling off a ball. Or maybe his sense of humor was set too high?

He didn't understand it at all.

The other two clowns on stage had stopped as well. They exchanged a glance, their smiles turning stiff.

"Oh my, my—"

The ringmaster let out a regretful sigh.

"It seems this clown gentleman got a little too absorbed in his performance! Come now, let's give him a round of applause to encourage him to get back up and keep bringing joy to everyone!"

The applause came in thin, scattered patches.

The two clowns bent down, took their fallen companion by either arm, and dragged him toward the side of the stage.

His feet left two faint tracks across the floor. His head lolled, his arms hung limp at his sides, like a discarded puppet.

"All right, all right, just a small interlude."

The ringmaster's voice came again, as breezy as if he were chatting about the weather.

"Now, let's welcome our next performer: the knife-throwing artist, Joe!"

A man in a white shirt walked out. He was lean, with solid shoulders and back, and he held ten gleaming throwing knives.

"Joe's knife-throwing skill has reached the realm of the sublime! Behold! His target is none other than a beautiful blonde woman!"

At the same moment, a huge round wooden board was raised at center stage. A blonde woman stood in front of it in a gorgeous princess gown, her hands and feet bound to the board.

Joe stood thirty meters away, knives in hand, a haughty look rising on his face.

The first knife.

A flash of cold light, and the knife struck beside the woman's body. The blade hugged her princess gown and sank into the board, the hilt quivering slightly.

The second knife! The third! The fourth…

Knife after knife, the blades traced a complete human outline around the woman.

The applause from the audience grew warmer. The children clapped excitedly, and the adults wore looks of admiration. The two Tomies had taken an interest too, their eyes fixed on the stage.

The man named Joe pinched the last knife in his right hand, planted his left on his hip, and glanced proudly at the ringmaster standing at the edge of the stage. "Well? Mr. Director, am I not the star of this park?"

"Hehehehe, you haven't finished throwing yet."

The director said it cheerfully.

"Tch!"

Joe clicked his tongue in irritation, raised the final knife, and narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Open your eyes wide and watch carefully!"

The words had barely left his mouth when Joe's wrist twitched. The knife left his hand and became a streak of cold light shooting toward the woman who served as his target.

"Whoosh!"

The blade split the air, and in the blink of an eye it had reached the woman's throat.

In that instant, time seemed to stretch. Joe's pupils dilated.

The moment the knife left his hand, he knew—it was off.

Not off by a little. Off by a lot!

The blade's path ran straight for the woman's throat, not the nerve-wracking spot grazing her hair that he had intended. His wrist had trembled at the last moment, adding half a measure too much force, and the knife's aim had spun completely out of control.

It's over! I've failed! I won't be the star of the circus anymore!

"No—!"

A cry squeezed out of his throat, sharp and short, laced with uncontainable panic. His arm remained in its throwing pose, frozen in midair, fingertips trembling slightly.

But it was too late to stop it. All he could do was watch helplessly as the knife became a streak of cold light and flew toward the woman's throat.

The blonde woman's pupils shrank to pinpoints. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Her body was bound to the board, and the ropes cut so tightly she couldn't even tremble. The blade grew rapidly in her eyes, its icy glint already reflected on the skin of her neck.

And then—

"Clang—!!"

It wasn't the sound of a blade entering flesh, but the sharp ring of metal striking metal, like a hammer slamming onto an anvil. The echo reverberated back and forth through the tent.

The knife burst apart in midair, shattering into a dozen-odd fragments that sprayed in every direction. The hilt spun away, struck the wooden railing at the edge of the stage, bounced twice, and rolled to the ground.

The blonde woman stayed rigid, shaking uncontrollably.

On her neck, a shallow cut from a shard of blade slowly beaded with blood, but her throat was unharmed.

Just before touching her skin, the blade had been struck from the side by something and smashed to pieces.

Joe's arm hung frozen in midair, his fingers still in their throwing pose, as if his whole body had been frozen solid.

His face was filled with disbelief. His mouth hung open, but no words came out.

How was that possible?

Something had hit the knife.

In mid-flight, something had struck it precisely from the side and smashed it to pieces.

Was this a joke? What kind of joke was this? In a flight that lasted half a second?

The applause in the audience had cut off abruptly too. The guests looked on blankly, craning their necks toward the stage, not yet sure what had happened.

"Phew… that was dangerous."

Amamiya Rin slowly lowered his right arm.

Between his index and middle fingers clung the powdery remains of iron filings.

A section of his seat's armrest had been snapped off, the break jagged, exposing the grayish-white cast-iron core.

In that critical hundredth of a second, he had rolled a small iron ball between his fingers and flicked it out.

He'd been lucky. The instant he noticed the knife's trajectory going off, he had slipped into the limit state of the Crimson Lotus Breathing Method and knocked the blade away just before it pierced the woman's throat.

Otherwise, someone would have died just from watching a circus show. This world was far too dangerous.