The Royal Palace of Solara
The corridors of the palace were paved with gold and marble, echoing the footsteps of a tyrant.
King Valerius walked toward the Throne Room. His royal cape trailed behind him like a river of blood. He didn't look worried. He looked excited.
Suddenly, the air behind him shimmered. A presence appeared from nothingness.
The King didn't flinch. He didn't even turn his head.
"So," the King said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. "You know what you need to do now, Viper?"
Behind him stood a man. Lean, tall, and radiating a silent, deadly pressure.
Viper.
Rank: S-Rank Assassin (Shadow Guild).
Height: 187 cm (6'1").
Weight: 74 kg (163 lbs).
Hair: Yellow Blonde, messy.
Eyes: Brown, lifeless.
He wore light leather armor that made no sound when he moved. On his left hip, a dagger. On his right hip, a dagger.
And floating in the air, circling his head like a loyal predatory bird, was a third dagger—glowing with a sickly green aura.
Viper knelt on one knee.
"Yes, My Lord."
The King stopped walking. He looked at a painting on the wall.
"These Elf brats," the King chuckled darkly. "They think they can take my property away from me? They think they can sneak into my city?"
Viper smirked. "They were careless, My Lord."
The King remembered the report.
A few hours ago, a trembling guard—the one from the gate—had come running to the palace, sweating and pale.
"My Lord! My Lord! Special Grade Elves! And... a human in a mask! They are here!"
The King's smile widened.
"Let them come," the King whispered. "I need fresh heads for my wall."
Viper bowed his head. "I will prepare the welcome party."
"Good."
Viper vanished into the shadows.
The King continued walking. But instead of going to the Throne Room, he stopped at a heavy iron door on his right.
He pushed it open.
CREAAAK.
A smell hit him. The smell of rot. The smell of fear.
He stepped inside.
It wasn't a room. It was an enclosed forest within the castle walls. The Garden.
But there were no flowers here.
Bodies of Elves lay scattered on the grass. Some were headless. Some were half-eaten by the wild tigers the King kept as pets. Bones were bleached white by the sun.
The King took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of death.
"Ah," he sighed contentedly. "My beautiful collection."
He looked at a fresh corpse—a young female elf.
"Don't worry," the King whispered to the dead girl. "You will have company tonight. High-ranking company."
He gave a creepy, twisted smile that stretched too wide for his face.
"I wonder what Elrond Leon's head will look like on my mantle?"
The Underground Hideout
Elrond sat in the corner, a polishing cloth in his hand.
Swish. Swish.
He ran the cloth over the blade of his Holy Sword. The metal gleamed under the magical lamps.
Elrond stared at his reflection in the steel.
Why didn't it damage him?
His mind drifted back to the arena. To the moment he used Astra Velocitas.
I cut space itself. I moved faster than time. I severed his arm.
But...
Elrond frowned.
It felt like cutting water. There was no resistance. And then... he healed instantly.
He held back. I know he did. If he wanted to, he could have erased me with that black sword.
Elrond looked across the room at Markil, who was aggressively scrubbing his own blade.
Elrond's expression softened.
He is a monster in power. But...
He remembered Markil's words: "I will not kill innocent humans."
Elrond smiled.
He is a kind boy now. I'm sure of it.
Solara City Rooftops - Sunset
The sky was bleeding orange and purple as the sun began to set.
On top of a clock tower, a figure stood alone.
Amreth Kasos.
His green hair fluttered in the wind. His golden eyes watched the city below—the humans going home, the slaves being dragged back to their cages.
He held his curved blades in his hands.
"Evening is going," Amreth whispered.
He closed his eyes and channeled his mana.
HUMMM.
His blades began to glow with a blinding white light.
"My magic is good," Amreth thought.
Ability: Light-Stitcher.
Effect: Supernatural acceleration.
Power: It allows the user to double or triple the normal number of strikes in a single second. It "stitches" light into the muscle fibers, overriding the body's natural limits.
Amreth opened his eyes. For a split second, the world seemed to stand still.
One second is an eternity for me.
He looked at the sun dipping below the horizon. The shadows grew longer.
"Time to go."
He crouched down and placed his hand on the roof tiles.
"Ground Displacement."
ZAP.
He vanished into the floor, leaving only a faint scorch mark behind.
Back in the Hideout
Markil sat cross-legged on the floor. Asler lay across his lap.
Markil was scrubbing the black blade with a rag.
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.
"Ughhhhh," Markil groaned loudly.
He threw the rag on the floor.
"WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?!" Markil shouted, his voice echoing in the small room.
"It's a magic sword! It doesn't get dirty! It literally eats dirt! Why do I have to clean it?!"
Elrond didn't look up from his own sword.
"If you want to win," Elrond said calmly, "you have to win respect for your tools."
"A warrior who does not care for his blade, does not care for his life."
Markil gave him the flattest, most boring look in history.
"Respect?" Markil deadpanned. "Elrond, this sword lives in a void dimension. It doesn't have feelings. It has hunger."
Markil looked around the room.
Kalman was sharpening his daggers with obsessive precision.
Alith was oiling her wire traps.
Arwen was adjusting the sights on her bow.
Amreth just appeared from the ceiling, landing softly and immediately starting to polish his curved blades.
Everyone was focused. Everyone was serious.
Markil sighed, picking up the rag again.
"Ooo God," Markil muttered, rubbing the blade half-heartedly. "Too boring."
"Can't we just skip to the part where I punch the bad guy?"
Elrond sheathed his sword with a sharp CLICK.
He stood up. The sound signaled everyone to stop.
"The sun is down," Elrond said. His voice was no longer that of a mentor. It was the voice of a Commander.
"The cleaning is over."
"Markil," Elrond looked at him. "You wanted to punch the bad guy?"
Elrond's eyes glowed in the dim light.
"Your wish is granted."
(Chapter 32 Finished)