Nyx shot upright, dagger already in hand, as he activated Stealth. His body moved like instinct incarnate—fluid, silent, invisible—as he darted toward Rhea's room, a living shadow streaking through the manor.
The door was halfway open.
And there—just inside—an assassin loomed, dagger raised mid-thrust toward Rhea's exposed throat.
Nyx didn't hesitate.
Blink.
In an instant, he materialized beside the man, eyes sharp and glacial. His arm moved on reflex, slicing clean through flesh and artery as his dagger carved across the intruder's neck. The assassin's eyes widened in mute horror, voice snatched away by the torrent of blood now gushing from the wound. He crumpled wordlessly to the floor.
The warm, metallic spray splattered across Rhea's face, shocking her awake in a cold jolt of reality. Her eyes snapped open—just in time to see Nyx plunge a blade into a dying man's throat.
A real person.
Bleeding out in front of her.
Her mouth opened to scream—but nothing came. Fear and instinct clashed with confusion, but trust in Nyx ultimately sealed her lips. She didn't even flinch as his eyes met hers.
He crouched beside her, placing a finger gently against her mouth.
"Shh. Don't speak," he whispered into her ear, voice low, calm, and unshakably firm.
Without another word, he grabbed the corpse by the collar and yanked it off the bed like it was trash left too long in the sun.
"W-What's happening, Nyx?" Rhea stammered, voice trembling, eyes wide with horror.
'System. Any way to hide her until this is over?'
[You can temporarily share one of your skills with her. But you'll be unable to use it while she has it.]
'I don't care. Just do it. I'll handle everything else.'
Nyx turned to her, gripping her shoulders as he locked eyes with her, gaze intense and unblinking.
"Rhea, I've passed you a skill. Use it—now. Stay hidden. No matter what happens. Don't come out until I return."
Confusion still lingered on her face, but as the knowledge of the skill flowed into her mind, something clicked. She nodded, albeit shakily, and with a breathless whisper, she activated Stealth—her figure flickering out of sight.
Nyx gave the spot where she had stood one last look, then vanished from the room, bolting toward the courtyard.
---
Outside, a hooded assassin scanned the manor's perimeter, senses alert. He twitched—felt something—but it was already too late. Nyx was upon him, silent as the night itself.
The dagger flashed. A heartbeat later, the man's head tumbled from his shoulders.
Another corpse for the pile.
Nyx flowed through the manor like a phantom, striking without hesitation. Every time his blade rose, it fell with purpose—clean, efficient, lethal. No words. No threats. Just death.
By the time he reached the main hall, it was chaos incarnate.
Karl stood in the center, holding his ground against five armed assassins—each one sharper, quicker, clearly more trained than the fodder Nyx had just sliced through.
Without hesitation, Nyx struck from behind.
His dagger slashed at one of the enemies, landing a glancing blow across the man's back. The assassin managed to twist away in time, but not without a nasty gash.
Nyx landed beside Karl.
"I'll be fine," Karl said through clenched teeth, chest heaving, his blade gleaming with bloodlust. "Just cover my blind spots—I'll handle these bastards."
Nyx didn't argue.
Activating his flames, he lunged forward—moving like a fiery ghost. The first enemy found his hands severed in a blur of steel and fire, screams drowned beneath a barrage of Fire Arrows that left him convulsing on the floor.
The others rushed him.
Nyx Blinked—vanishing mid-step—and reappeared behind another, slashing a tendon clean and leaving him shrieking as he fell.
"We—we got the wrong info!" one of the assassins shouted in panic. "He's a mage! Retreat!"
Cowards.
They dropped formation, scattering like roaches.
"Not so fast, bitches."
Nyx surged forward, channeling flames into his dagger—too much, far more than it should've handled. The fire engulfed the blade, doubling its length, turning it into a burning fang.
He appeared before one of the fleeing men, severed his arm in a single sweep, then shattered the assassin's kneecap with a brutal kick.
Meanwhile, Karl was showcasing a completely different kind of brutality—beating two men senseless with nothing but a wooden baton. He struck with practiced cruelty, smashing their necks until both collapsed, unconscious and twitching.
Once the last attacker fell, they dragged the surviving scum into the living room.
"I'll handle the interrogation, young master," Karl said quietly, a note of grimness in his voice. He remembered—this was likely Nyx's first time seeing the darker side of their work.
But Nyx… wasn't listening.
He stood over the pile of barely-living men, chest rising slowly, breath calm. Just then, the familiar voice rang in his ears.
[Congratulations for surviving an assassination attempt. +1000 SP.]
"…Are you promoting this?" Nyx asked, his tone flat with quiet resentment. The weight of what he had done hadn't crashed in—it was already sitting on his shoulders like an old friend.
[Not promoting. Just recognizing your survival. You did good.]
[But damn—you're way too calm for your first kill.]
"…Can't say anything about that first time," Nyx muttered. "But I've already seen enough hell in twenty years to last a lifetime."
His eyes were cold. Detached. His killing intent didn't waver—it deepened.
Even Karl, seasoned as he was, instinctively took a step back. The aura pouring off Nyx wasn't human. It was dense. Wrong. Terrifying.
Nyx approached the captured men, each one tied and broken in different ways. He picked up a blood-stained log from the floor—no magic, no technique—just brutality made solid.
The air grew still.
"Who sent you?" he asked the first man, voice level, but brimming with venom.
No response.
Crack.
The log smashed into the man's skull with a sickening thud. He dropped like a sack of meat, skull split and leaking blood.
Nyx turned to the next. "Who sent you?"
The assassin stared, petrified, but said nothing.
Thud.
He collapsed the same way.
Then came the third. "Who sent you?"
This one was shaking. He wanted to stay loyal, but fear had its claws sunk deep. His mouth trembled.
"L–Lord Vi–Vincent… sent us…"
Nyx froze.
He stared at the man, gaze unreadable. "Any last wishes?"
The assassin opened his mouth—but no words came.
Slice.
The blade slipped through his neck like butter.
---
Now, Nyx stood alone in the center of the carnage. Blood soaked the floor. The silence felt heavier than steel.
Karl stepped forward, hesitantly. He wanted to speak—say something, anything—to pull Nyx back from the edge.
But then Nyx spoke, voice a quiet, seething whisper.
"They want to play dirty, huh…?"
He raised his head slowly.
"I'll show them how fucking dirty I can play."
His hand clenched around the bloodied dagger. His shadow stretched behind him, long and twisted.
"Just you wait, Vincent. I'll erase your entire existence from this world."
A.N. Yeah, this chapter was short. But we got the tension going on. Have any idea what route Nyx's gonna take? Drop your thoughts.