Rian...
He looked powerful—because he was. Years of grooming, support, resources, and elite training had made sure of that. He had the education, the backing, and most importantly, the ability. Even before being chosen as a successor, he outshone his peers.
By ten, he was already a 2nd-rank knight, his skill rivaling elite elven warriors.
But that wasn't normal... Not for other children.
That wasn't what the assassins expected.
They moved—silent, sudden.
And Jean didn't hesitate.
He bolted forward, instinct overriding thought, a raw hunger to live and prove himself guiding each step. He refused to die before seeing his family again.
No trees. No forest. No obstacles in his path.
He moved like an animal. He was one—raised without love, surviving by instinct, innocence long dead.
There was no hesitation in his blade. No guilt in his intent.
He had killed before.
Killed to eat.
Killed to survive.
Killing people, was not much different.
In his mind, the words from the letter pulsed through him again:
"Who to help?... Who must be killed?"
His eyes sharpened. The red tint deepened.
'These ones. These ones must die.'
Rian danced through the room like a ghost, his orb sweeping blasts across clustered targets. Precision and speed—each strike measured, lethal.
The assassins dispersed.
Jean caught a glimpse of him through the smoke and debris, taking advantage of the chaos.
[Formless Art – Crescent Silence]
Jean's knife cut through flesh with a clean arc. A leg gave out.
"Gauh!" the assassin cried, collapsing.
Jean's father's techniques burned behind his eyes—waiting, coiled, seeking the right strike.
They fought together. Not by plan, but by survival. Surrounded was death. Stagnation was death.
Jean didn't pause.
He left the wounded one to bleed and lunged for the next. Rian's orb fired behind him, turning the maimed assassin into a broken smear on the wall.
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No time to think.
Only kill.
Jean closed in on the second.
His hand clenched tighter around the knife. The name of the next technique surged through him.
[Formless Art – Heartseeker]
No hesitation. No restraint.
He threw his body weight behind the stab—knife plunging into the assassin's chest.
A heartbeat stopped.
And Jean... froze.
That one moment.
The silence after the kill. The realization.
The gap between wanting to kill... and doing it.
Something in him fractured.
But it wasn't over.
Rian's gaze flicked toward him—sharp, knowing. He recognized that moment.
And then—
It was too late.
A blur from the side. A blade meant to end it.
Slamm!
The hit landed. Jean's body rocketed across the room, crashing into the wooden wall with a crack.
The leader.
He hadn't moved. He had waited. Watched.
Now, he acted—clean, surgical. A true assassin. A predator who finished things with one strike.
Pain exploded in Jean's chest, but his grip didn't falter.
He held onto his knife like it was his own heartbeat.
He checked his body. No wound.
No torn clothes.
The blade aura should've killed him.
His fingers trembled. Then it clicked.
The clothes. The mask.
He fumbled through the bag, found the mask, pulled it on. It clamped down, adjusting instantly.
A voice spoke—cold, detached. The same one from the letter.
[Initiating combat model.]
His vision changed.
Symbols, names, markers—red, yellow, blue. The mask laid out the battlefield. Data. Combat reads. Everything.
And then it scanned him.
Username: Brat
Planet: Racism
Age: Scanning... 9 years old
Awakening: In progress
Gift: Unregistered
Mana Affinity: In progress
Physicality: C
Mentality: F
Perception: E
Mana Saturation: 98%
Rank: Unranked (Near Awakening)
He stared at Rian's tag:
Ally (Elf Brat)
Mana Affinity: Healing / Wood
Gift: Eyes of the Forest
Combat Skill: High
Rank: 2nd Rank
Assassins had same detailed markers.
Far.
Small.
But clear to him.
Target 1 (Random Bastard No. 1)
Mana Affinity: Stealth / Speed
Gift: Unregistered
Combat Skills: Advanced
Rank: 3rd Rank
Target 2 (Random Bastard No. 2)
Mana Affinity: Speed
Gift: Unregistered
Combat Skills: Intermediate
Rank: 2nd Rank
Target 3 (Random Bastard No. 3)
Mana Affinity: Stealth
Gift: Unregistered
Combat Skills: Average
Rank: 2nd Rank
Target 4 (Random Bastard No. 4)
Mana Affinity: None
Gift: Unregistered
Combat Skills: Weak
Rank: 2nd Rank
The voice returned.
[Illiterate.]
[Follow the commands. Move according to the holograms.]
Jean blinked. Confused.
Rian's marker turned red. Urgent marks—"!!!!"—flashed above him.
"What—"
[ON YOUR FEET.]
Jean flinched. The voice thundered.
[Follow instructions – March toward target 2 – Pattern displayed.]
Bright zigzag patterns lit the floor. A ghostly figure—a phantom—emerged.
It looked like him. Moved like him. Held the same knife.
The phantom sprinted. Jean followed. Step for step. Mimicry became instinct.
Target 2 noticed—guard up, stance ready.
[Stab at mark in 1 second.]
Jean closed in. But the marker jumped—to another assassin. The one attacking Rian.
He changed direction mid-run, feet slamming against the floor. A pivot. A launch.
Heartseeker.
Stab.
The knife punched through bone and heart. Blood exploded again.
Target 1, the leader, lunged in response—but the phantom had already ducked behind the fresh, still-standing corpse, using it like armor.
Jean followed, hiding.
[Attack in 0.3 seconds.] The voice warned
As the attack was landing, the phantom moved.
He followed.
He moved like the phantom. Became it.
The corpse was split in half, a split second was needed for him to survive the attack was achieved.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. His red-tinted hair was lit with mana.
His hair took shades of blood-red instead.
Deepining further with each passing moment.
He was awakening—right there, in the middle of the kill.
Rian, now clear of danger, turned his focus back. His orb pulsed, firing a heavy blast at the leader—forcing him back.
While the assassin staggered, Rian slipped in, grabbed a dagger from a fallen body, and without a pause—
He hurled it.
Straight at Target 2.
The same one the mask had first marked for Jean.
