The ancient trees of Bosque Forest stretched toward the crimson sky of planet Alter, their interwoven canopy so dense that even the heaviest rains never touched the forest floor. Through this labyrinth of shadows, a figure stumbled forward with desperate determination.
Yush Hussein would have been the very definition of ethereal beauty—sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, and features that seemed carved by the gods themselves—if not for the wounds that marred his pale flesh. Blood seeped through countless small punctures across his body, creating a crimson map of his suffering. The worst injury was a dagger wound in his thigh, forcing him to run with a pronounced limp that grew worse with each passing moment.
Behind him, death followed on silent feet.
Eight assassins moved through the forest like wraiths, their black attire allowing them to meld with the shadows between the massive tree trunks. They had been hunting him for hours, and Yush could feel his strength ebbing away with each drop of blood that fell to the moss-covered ground.
I won't make it much further, he thought, his breathing ragged. The realization sent a spike of panic through his chest, but he forced it down. He was a Hussein—fear was a luxury he couldn't afford.
As the sound of approaching footsteps grew closer, Yush made a desperate decision. He spun around, his pale hand cutting through the air in a complex gesture. Illusion mana, ancient and powerful, rippled outward like invisible waves.
The effect was immediate. The eight assassins froze mid-step, their eyes going wide as the magic plunged them into the depths of their darkest memories. One assassin's face contorted with despair, another's with rage, while a third seemed to crumble under the weight of old grief. For a precious moment, they were trapped in their own personal hells.
Yush didn't wait to see the full effect. He turned and ran deeper into the forest, his limp more pronounced now, leaving a trail of blood droplets that gleamed like rubies in the filtered light.
His desperate flight led him to a section of the forest he'd never seen before, where the trees grew so close together they seemed to form living walls. Hidden among a tangle of thorny bushes, he spotted something that made his heart leap with hope—a small opening in a moss-covered hill, barely large enough for a person to crawl through.
It's too small, was his first thought, but as the sound of breaking branches echoed behind him, Yush realized he had no choice. The assassins had broken free from his illusion faster than he'd hoped.
Dropping to his hands and knees, ignoring the fire that shot through his wounded thigh, Yush squeezed into the narrow opening. The cave walls pressed against his shoulders as he crawled forward, his breathing echoing in the confined space. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body, and he could feel his strength continuing to fade.
Just a little further, he told himself, inch by painful inch.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes, the narrow tunnel suddenly opened into a vast underground chamber. Yush emerged from the crawlspace and stood up, marveling despite his dire circumstances. The hidden cavern stretched nearly four hundred meters in all directions, its ceiling lost in shadow high above.
His knees and elbows screamed in protest from the crawling, and he limped toward what he hoped was the far corner of the chamber. I need to rest, he thought. Just for a moment.
"I guess this is how far you could run from us, isn't that right, Young Master Yush?"
The cold, emotionless voice froze his blood. Yush spun around to see four black-clad figures emerging from the tunnel he'd just crawled through. The assassins stood with the predatory stillness of hunters who had finally cornered their prey.
Minutes earlier, in the forest above, the leader of the assassination squad had been the first to break free from Yush's illusion. Patrick was a man who had survived in the killing business through careful calculation and an iron will, qualities that served him well now as he shook off the lingering effects of the memory magic.
He looked around at his remaining seven subordinates, noting how they still swayed slightly, their eyes unfocused as they fought their way back to the present. The illusion had been powerful—more powerful than he'd expected from an injured boy, even one with Hussein blood.
The reports were wrong, Patrick realized grimly. He's not just some pampered noble's son.
Still, he had a job to do. The contract had come from the main branch of the Hussein family itself—he was certain of it. No one else on planet Alter would dare put a hit out on the heir to the Grand Duke's house. The very planet they stood on belonged to the Hussein family, and this forest was practically in their backyard.
But that's exactly why he couldn't afford to fail. If Yush escaped, the entire Dead End branch on Alter would be systematically hunted down and eliminated. Not just the assassins—their families, their friends, anyone who had ever helped them. The Husseins didn't believe in half-measures when it came to revenge.
"You four," Patrick snapped, pointing to the assassins numbered 4 through 7 on their black uniforms. "Search for him. He's injured and can't have gone far. We'll wait at the forest exit—it's the only way out unless he wants to try crossing the core territories."
The four assassins nodded and disappeared into the undergrowth. Patrick knew they understood the stakes as well as he did. The core territories were home to cultivation monsters that could tear apart even experienced fighters. No wounded boy would survive that path.
Assassins 4, 5, 6, and 7 moved through the forest with methodical precision, checking every hiding spot they could find. They searched hollow logs, dense thickets, shallow caves—anywhere a desperate person might try to hide.
It was Assassin 4 who spotted the anomaly: a small hole in a hill, almost completely hidden by a curtain of thorny bushes.
"There," he said, pointing. "Behind those bushes."
The others gathered around, studying the tiny opening with professional skepticism.
"It's barely big enough for a child," Assassin 6 muttered.
"Better safe than sorry," Assassin 4 replied. "If he's as injured as he looked, he might have squeezed in there out of desperation."
Without further discussion, they dropped to their hands and knees and began crawling into the tunnel. The space was cramped and uncomfortable, forcing them to move single-file through the darkness. But they were professionals, and discomfort was just another part of the job.
When they finally emerged into the vast underground chamber, they immediately spotted their target near the far wall. Yush was walking away from them, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, apparently unaware of their presence.
Assassin 4 allowed himself a cold smile. After hours of pursuit, they had finally cornered the young master of the Hussein house.
"I guess this is how far you could run from us," he called out, his voice echoing in the cavern. "Isn't that right, Young Master Yush?"
As Yush turned to face them, his pale face a mask of exhaustion and pain, Assassin 4 could see the fear flickering in the young man's eyes. But there was something else there too—a spark of defiance that hadn't been extinguished despite everything he'd endured.
This might not be as easy as we thought, the assassin realized. But it was too late to turn back now. One way or another, this hunt would end here, in the depths of this hidden cave beneath the Bosque Forest.
The four assassins spread out slightly, blocking any possible escape route. In the distance, water dripped steadily from the cavern ceiling, each drop echoing like a countdown to the inevitable confrontation.
Young Master Yush Hussein stood alone in the shadows, wounded and cornered, but his eyes burned with the fire of his noble bloodline. Whatever happened next, it would not be the simple execution the assassins had planned.