"HEEELP MEE~~"

Is one of the last sounds a human makes before dying, often considered the pinnacle of begging and the greatest shame to a warrior.

"He will never witness daylight again. Good work, Fifty-Three," a silent voice praised.

Two cloaked individuals stood in front of a corpse, blood oozing out like a fountain.

Fifty-Three silently acknowledged the praise, quickly scanning the room.

The mansion, deep inside the forests, was an old-fashioned building officially abandoned – the perfect hideout for criminals.

"Take care of the rest; I will report our target's death."

With that, one of the two men disappeared into thin air, taking the corpse with him, leaving not a single trace of blood.

Fifty-Three, now alone, had a clear objective:

'Kill everyone left and leave no evidence behind.'

The sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed in the room. Before anyone outside could react, Fifty-Three vanished.

Five guards played a card game in front of the massive wooden door when a small gust of wind hit them. A black figure appeared in the hallway.

Surprised, they stood up. As the guards drew their swords, the leader shouted, "Stop! Who are you and why are you here?" a hint of mana emitted out of them, but before they could assess the situation, red fluid splashed, and all of them collapsed into pieces.

The assailant continued without looking back. His mind searched for the next enemies; there was no time to stop, his orders were clear.

So, he continued

The guards in the cafeteria, those at the main gates, and even the sleeping ones were massacred without mercy.

After every soul was taken, the reaper stood alone. His hollow yet sharp eyes reflected on his reddened sword. There was no reaction to the deaths; murder meant nothing to him anymore, a natural process.

Now, one last thing remained.

He released a crimson aura of mana, a wave of gluttony that swallowed every bit of evidence through the entire mansion.

All that remained was an abandoned house. Not a single sign of murder was visible.
With a calm sigh, he stared at the night sky. The stars greeted him like an old friend, and the moon shone like a beacon of pure beauty.

It was something he cherished, the only thing that made him ever think about hope.
Hope, to live normally someday.

With a last gaze at the moon, he vanished from the scene, heading towards his destination: The castle of Olden, belonging to a famous nobleman in Acarcia, a major kingdom in the southeast of the continent.

However, it was also the headquarters of the largest assassin network, Gier, with the head of the Olden family being its sole leader.

Not many knew classified information like this, even among the assassins. Fifty-Three was one of the few to know about the organization's head.

That's why he knew where to go as soon as he arrived.

On the outside, the castle seemed rich and joyful, befitting a noble.

Though, deep underground, a dungeon for various torture and kidnapping purposes was set up, deemed hell by the people working there.

Passing down the hallways, Fifty-Three could already hear the screams of terror.
Unfortunately for them, it never reached the people they hoped for.

Sir Olden was a sly man, deemed an angel by the public, a man of honor and high status.

Nobody would ever know that he was the most brutal monarch of them all. By his order, the assassins took thousands of lives without any form of remorse or pity.

Not even innocent people were spared. Their blood painted the stone walls like a canvas. It was also all that would be left of them.