The air trembled.
With a burst of killing intent, the magical beast lunged forward—a blur of steel and motion.
"GET BEHIND US!!" Nam Ara's voice rang like a war cry, commanding and fierce.
The crew panicked, stumbling back as the beast descended like a meteor. Its glowing blade sliced through the air—aimed straight at the group.
CLANG!
A brilliant barrier of light erupted before them, stopping the strike. One of the Hunters, the one who had been chewing gum earlier, now stood firm, arm extended, channeling a glowing aegis—a shimmering golden shield of condensed mana.
The magical beast halted mid-air, red eyes narrowing.
Then it retreated—gracefully, effortlessly—vanishing back into the shadows, blade humming with bloodlust.
The gum-chewing Hunter gritted his teeth. "If this thing is really a magical beast, we're screwed. We're just B-Ranks…"
Nam Ara's voice cut through his doubt. "Don't sell yourself short. We're three. We've trained for years. Together, we can bring it down."
Lin could barely breathe.
(That thing… it's not just a beast. It moves like something outside the laws of physics. Like it's cheating reality.)
The air cracked.
It reappeared.
In one impossibly fast blink, the beast crossed the distance. Its blade arced downward, cleaving through the shield like it was paper.
SHHHHNK—!
Blood exploded across the stones.
The shield-casting Hunter screamed—briefly—as his arm was severed at the shoulder. Before his knees could even hit the ground, the red blade followed through, carving through his torso in a spiral of gore.
SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.
Limbs. Flesh. Bone.
The body was turned into red mist before it could even fall.
The second Hunter, stunned for a split second too long, tried to raise his weapon—too late.
The magical beast was behind him before his thoughts could catch up.
SHUNK!
Its sword pierced through his spine, out his chest. A heartbeat later, it twisted the blade and ripped sideways, tearing the man in half with a monstrous, wet crack.
Blood painted the walls.
Screams filled the chamber as the remaining crew members scrambled, terrified and useless. Nam Ara leapt forward, dragging two of them away from the carnage with incredible speed.
Lin stood frozen.
(In my world, we had monsters sure. But this…this is different, they called it a magical beast. What even are those?.)
Another crew member tried to run. The beast flashed—just a blink—and the man's head flew from his shoulders, spinning mid-air before crashing to the ground like a kicked melon.
By the time the spraying blood had settled, only two remained:
Nam Ara.
And Lin.
Nam Ara was breathing hard, her daggers dripping. Her eyes locked onto the beast, sharp with battle instinct but trembling with understanding.
They were outmatched.
The magical beast didn't speak. It didn't gloat. It simply looked at them both, tilting its head as if curious which one would die next.
Then, it vanished.
Lin's instincts screamed.
(It's coming—)
The moment the beast vanished, the air grew still—too still.
Lin stood frozen, unable to track it. But Nam Ara didn't flinch.
Instead, she closed her eyes. Breathed.
And then—
She moved.
Her foot slid half a step to the side, just enough for the crimson blade to miss her neck by an inch. The beast reappeared mid-swing, its blade trailing glowing red, cutting through where she had stood.
Nam Ara's eyes opened.
They were no longer calm.
They were cold.
The atmosphere around her shifted. The cave dimmed. A hush fell. Her body blurred like smoke—disappearing into shadow, then reappearing behind the beast with a flash of her twin daggers.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Steel rang against steel.
The beast twisted, blocking one dagger, but the second nearly dug into its ribs. Ara spun low, slid beneath its guard, and carved upward, catching a shallow slash across its chest.
Lin's eyes widened as the battle unfolded.
(Her speed is totally different than the rest.)
Ara was everywhere—on the walls, the ceiling, flickering between patches of shadow. Her body bent and twisted like liquid, her daggers singing through the air in deadly rhythm.
(She's not just fast—she's flowing. Like water through cracks. She doesn't fight the beast's strength. She dances around it.)
The beast snarled, now bleeding from several cuts. It lunged, trying to predict her movement.
But that was its mistake.
Nam Ara disappeared just before contact and reappeared above its head, both daggers aimed down.
SHHHK!
She plunged one blade into its shoulder. The second stabbed for its neck—but the beast turned just in time, causing her blade to glance off its collarbone.
SLAM!
It caught her by the leg and flung her across the cavern. She struck a rock wall with a dull crack, then dropped to her feet—wounded but steady.
She smirked, wiping blood from her lip.
"You're stronger," she said, "but you bleed just the same."
The magical beast roared—its first sound since the slaughter—and charged again.
But Ara was already moving.
(How is she doing this?)
Lin's heart pounded.
(Her body doesn't resist the beast… it adapts. Slides between moments. Every slash has purpose. She's not trying to beat it head-on. She's slipping past its power to exploit the smallest openings.)
As the beast struck again, Ara leaned back, dagger flashing upward. CLINK! She sliced a tendon in its wrist.
Then vanished again.
From behind—stab to the kidney.
Then to the side—slash to the hip.
Then above—spin-kick to its jaw before she landed on all fours and rolled to dodge the beast's retaliation.
Blood now poured from the beast in glowing rivulets.
Lin watched it all in awe.
(So this is what it means to be an Assassin…)
He clenched his fists.
(Not about brute force. It's about timing. Precision. Knowing when to appear, and when to disappear. When to strike—and where.)
The beast, now injured and enraged, let loose a guttural shriek. Its sword ignited with a deeper, more violent aura. Red lightning crackled along the blade.
Ara paused. Sweat beaded her brow. She was breathing harder now, legs trembling. She had already used her Assassin State for too long.
Lin could see it.
(I'm sure she's reaching her limit. And yet… she doesn't stop.)
(Even when she knows she's at a disadvantage, she still moves. Still fights. Still protects.)
(I want to be like that.)
Nam Ara crouched again, spinning one dagger in her hand and narrowing her eyes.
"Come on, you ugly bastard," she muttered. "Let's finish this dance."
The beast howled and charged—its blade sweeping sideways with lethal force.
Ara dashed forward to meet it.
Their blades clashed, the cave erupting in sparks and sound.
The final act of their deadly dance had begun.
The cave echoed with their clash.
Steel bit stone. Blood sprayed the air. Footfalls cracked the dirt beneath.
Nam Ara was a storm.
Even beyond her limit, her body moved—driven not by strength, but by instinct, by will. Her daggers glinted with fading light as she twisted, ducked, and slashed through every ounce of resistance.
The magical beast was furious now. Its strikes heavier, faster. But Ara was faster still—just barely.
(She should have collapsed by now,) Lin thought, stunned.
(No one should be able to move after taking wounds like that.)
Her left shoulder bled openly. Her ribs had to be broken. One leg dragged with a limp.
But she kept going.
Then, everything—stopped.
The beast's blade shimmered.
Nam Ara blinked.
Lin blinked.
And then she was gone.
Or so it seemed.
Ara reappeared in the beast's grasp, her body lifted high, its glowing sword impaling her from stomach to spine.
She gasped, blood dripping from her mouth, her eyes wide—not with pain, but with realization.
"Illusion…" she whispered. "It tricked me…"
(No—) Lin's heart dropped. (No, no, no!)
He took a step forward, but his legs trembled. He was too slow.
The beast began to pull its blade out, ready to toss her body aside and move toward him.
But her hands still gripped her daggers.
Even as her life faded, her muscles still remembered how to fight.
And then—
She moved.
With the last flicker of strength, she drove both daggers into the beast's neck—buried them deep. A scream tore through the cavern, high-pitched and unnatural.
Nam Ara twisted the blades, her eyes locked onto Lin.
And she smiled.
"Don't… die… stupidly," she rasped.
Then the beast's blade slid free—and with it, her body dropped.
But so did the beast.
Its sword clattered to the stone. It fell to its knees. Then forward—dead.
Nam Ara lay beside it.
Still.
Silence.
Lin couldn't move at first.
His chest heaved. His throat closed. The reality of death—of true, final death—sat heavy in his stomach like stone.
He walked forward, numb, and knelt beside her.
Her body was still warm. The daggers still stained with blood. Her hands had released them only at the very end.
Lin's fingers hovered over the blades. Then he wrapped them in cloth and took them—gently, like precious relics.
He stood, slowly.
His hands trembled. But not from fear.
From something else.
(If this is how this world works…)
(If even the strongest can fall to monsters hiding behind tricks…)
(If illusions, ambushes, and blades can end lives this easily…)
(Then I'm not safe. I never was.)
He looked at the twin daggers in his hands.
(I'm not strong anymore.)
(I don't even know who I am in this world.)
(But I'll learn. I'll rise. I'll fight.)
His voice was hoarse, but it cut through the darkness.
"If this world kills hunters… then I have no choice."
"I have to become stronger. Again."
"Not just to survive—but to protect what I have left."
He gripped the daggers tightly, the weight of Nam Ara's sacrifice anchoring his resolve.
"I swear it—" he whispered. "—I won't die as I am now."
And with that vow, Lin Wei took his first true step forward.
Not as a cleaner.
Not as a survivor.
But as a blade yet to be forged.