— Paper Figure Assassin —
BEEEP—! BEEEP—!
The piercing alarm shredded the midnight silence of the prison.
Heavily armed guards stormed down the corridor—
and froze.
At the base of the outer wall stood something that should not exist.
A paper assassin, barely half a meter tall, stood motionless beneath the harsh white lights.
Its face was sketched in twisted crimson ink, a knife of the same cursed paper clenched in its thin hand.
A faint, unnatural aura rippled outward—subtle, yet deeply wrong.
Every instinct screamed danger.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
Before the echo faded, the paper assassin moved.
It blurred forward with impossible speed.
A cold white arc flashed—
—and a guard's throat burst open. Blood splattered across the wall.
"Open fire! OPEN FIRE!"
Gunshots erupted.
Muzzle flashes strobed the corridor.
Bullets tore through the air—
yet the paper assassin twisted between them like smoke, riddled with holes, never slowing.
The blade danced again.
Choked screams followed—
then silence.
The paper figure turned.
Its crimson mouth curved into a grotesque smile.
And then—
another presence arrived.
At the far end of the corridor stood a young man, calm amid the carnage, eyes sharp as lightning.
"A paper medium... remotely controlled?"
Eren's voice was almost casual.
"Not bad craftsmanship."
The assassin's inked face twisted in rapture—as if it had found its chosen prey.
With a violent swish, it vanished.
A blade flashed straight for Eren's throat.
Eren didn't move.
A cold smirk curved his lips.
His hand snapped up—thunder-quick—closing around the paper assassin's neck.
It writhed soundlessly, struggling against a grip as immovable as iron.
"Decent strength," Eren murmured, brow lifting slightly.
"But this should do."
Pfft!
The crushed mass twitched—then unfolded midair, blade flashing again.
"Persistent little pest."
Eren clapped his palms together.
Spirit fire erupted.
White flame swallowed the assassin whole.
It vanished without a scream—reduced to drifting ash.
— The Man Behind the Paper —
Boots thundered across the ground as Kane and his squad rushed in.
The air reeked of blood and scorched paper.
Blackened scraps fluttered down like snow.
Kane's face drained of color.
"Mr. Eren... what the hell happened here?"
Eren met his gaze, calm as still water.
"What if I told you," he said evenly,
"they were killed by paper?"
Far beyond the prison walls, moonlight washed over a silent forest.
Perched atop an ancient oak, a gaunt figure doubled over, coughing up thick black blood.
"You bastard..."
His voice cracked into a snarl.
"You destroyed my work."
His body looked mummified—skin clinging to bone, lips scorched, eyes sunken yet burning fever-bright.
The shadow net knew him as The Paper Killer—
a craftsman of living talismans, a murderer who bent ink and bark to his will.
He spat again, pain wracking his frame.
Losing a paper servant to fire felt like being flayed alive.
"Fine," he rasped.
"Let's see you handle two."
His withered fingers danced through the air.
Two pale figures rose silently, fluttering like ghosts.
"Go," he hissed.
"Tear him apart."
A voice answered from below—low, cold.
"You should worry about yourself first."
The Paper Killer froze.
His eyes snapped downward.
Eren stood beneath the tree, gaze cutting through the shadows like a blade.
"You—!"
Rage drowned out fear.
"Perfect. You came to die!"
The paper assassins blurred into motion, flanking Eren from both sides.
From a distance, Kane and his men watched, barely breathing.
"They're... really paper?" someone whispered.
"And they kill?"
A faint smile touched Eren's lips.
Then—power.
His hands flashed.
Two precise pinches—at their necks.
Spirit fire ignited.
FWOOSH!
White flames devoured them instantly.
In seconds, only ash remained.
The Paper Killer convulsed, vomiting black blood.
His aura shattered.
"What... what fire is that?!" he shrieked.
"How can it burn my paper?!"
"I don't speak," Eren said coldly,
"to men already dead inside."
He raised his hand.
CRACK!
The oak branch split.
The Paper Killer screamed as he crashed to the ground.
Before he could move, Eren's boot pressed into his chest.
"Talk," Eren said, voice like frost.
"Who sent you?"
"I—I work through the shadow net!"
"No names! No faces! The contract was fifty million!"
"Fifty million," Eren repeated softly.
An ember flared between his fingers.
The Paper Killer vanished into ash.
Kane and his men approached, weapons still trembling.
"Serves him right," Kane muttered.
"That monster—"
"Don't."
Eren turned away.
"He came for me. Those men died because of that."
Kane's jaw tightened.
"You ended it."
Eren didn't answer.
Ash drifted on the wind.
Somewhere beyond the treeline, a terminal blinked—
a new contract waiting on the dark web.
"Trace it," Eren said at last.
"Find who posted the bounty. Cut the head—and the shadows will scatter."
Kane nodded grimly.
Yet as the forest whispered, flecks of burned paper dissolving into darkness, one thought lingered—
This wasn't the end.
It was only the first page of the hunt.
---
The cell door slammed shut behind Eren.
He sat cross-legged, eyes closed.
Pain was fuel.
Rage was focus.
But the prison's stagnant air was too thin for cultivation now.
He needed Spirit Stones—crystallized essence of heaven and earth.
Where could he find them?
His phone buzzed.
"Overlord!" Darius's voice crackled, breathless.
"I found the owner of license plate NA68688.
And I've identified the man behind the hit on Miss Lyra."
Eren's eyes snapped open, sharp as blades.
"Who is it?"
He paused.
"No," he said quietly.
"I'm coming to you. We'll talk face to face."