(Alistair's POV)
The air in my apartment was still.
Silent.
But I wasn't fooled.
I could feel it.
A shift in the air.
The subtle disturbance of mana as someone—someone highly trained—slipped into my apartment.
He's here.
I remained seated on the couch, my sword resting against the armrest, my expression calm.
Most would have dismissed the sensation as paranoia.
But I wasn't most people.
I had trained to notice the unnatural.
The way the shadows flickered unnaturally in the dim light.
The faintest whisper of movement above me—the ceiling.
A professional.
An assassin who had already infiltrated the room.
****
In the game, this assassin's kill was instant.
A single, perfect strike.
His dagger, coated in a paralysis poison, would have slid across my throat before I even noticed.
But I wasn't playing by the script anymore.
I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my blade.
Then, in a single movement—
I vanished.
Void Step.
My body flickered, stepping through the fabric of space, reappearing instantly on the far side of the room.
And as I moved—
A dagger slashed through the empty air where my throat had just been.
There was no hesitation in my attacker's movements.
The moment his strike failed, he vanished into the shadows, his body melting into the darkness.
A skill—Stealth.
But I had already seen him.
A thin man, wrapped in dark leather, with a face hidden behind a blank mask.
His presence erased completely, as if he had never been there.
But my Perception was high.
And I had Mana Sight.
I didn't need to see him.
I could feel the faint disturbances in mana where his form should be.
"You failed." My voice was cold, emotionless.
Silence.
But I knew he was there.
Watching.
Searching for another opening.
So I gave him one.
I turned my back, deliberately exposing myself.
A provocation.
A challenge.
And the fool took the bait.
The moment his mana surged again—I moved.
***
He lunged from the shadows, his dagger aimed straight for my heart.
I twisted my body at the last second, his blade sliding past my ribs, grazing flesh—
A minor wound.
His momentum carried him forward—a fatal mistake.
Before he could retreat, I struck.
My sword blurred through the air, slashing at his throat.
A clean decapitation—
Blocked.
His second dagger met my blade mid-swing, deflecting it with inhuman precision.
A counterstrike.
Aimed at my ribs again.
Too predictable.
I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist before his dagger could pierce me.
Then, without hesitation, I drove my knee into his gut.
A sharp gasp of pain—the first sound he had made.
But still, he moved.
He twisted, using my own grip against me, flipping over my shoulder and kicking off the wall—
His dagger flashed toward my neck.
I raised my arm—the blade cut deep into my forearm instead.
Blood splattered across the floor.
I ignored the pain.
He was fast.
He was skilled.
But he wasn't strong enough.
The assassin had more experience.
But experience alone didn't make you unbeatable.
He fought with efficiency, aiming for vital points, minimizing wasted movement.
But I fought with ruthlessness.
I didn't try to dodge perfectly.
I didn't try to make my movements flawless.
I fought to kill.
When his next dagger lunged for my stomach, I didn't move away.
Instead—I stepped forward.
His dagger pierced my side.
But my sword pierced his chest.
A sharp inhale—his first sign of shock.
He stumbled back, his body twisting unnaturally, breaking free from my sword before the fatal blow could land.
But he was wounded.
Slower.
Weaker.
And we both knew it.
"Who Sent You?"
He backed away, breathing heavily.
His blank mask was expressionless, but I could feel his desperation.
"Who sent you?" I asked, my voice cold.
Silence.
I took a step forward.
"Speak."
Nothing.
Even in pain, even as death crept closer, he refused to talk.
I could respect that.
But I didn't need to respect his life.
***
I exhaled, the pain in my side already fading—Abyssal Regeneration at work.
This fight had already ended.
But there was still one thing left to do.
I clenched my fist, activating my Authority.
The room grew cold.
The assassin's body stiffened—instinct screaming at him to run.
He turned—
Too late.
From the shadows beneath me, something rose.
Black and purple tendrils slithered out, pulsing with abyssal hunger and purple flames.
A mass of devouring darkness—the Ever-Hungry Maw manifest.
The assassin tried to flee.
Tried to vanish into the shadows again.
But my tendrils were faster.
They lashed out, wrapping around his limbs, pulling him back—
Dragging him toward me.
His daggers slashed desperately, cutting into the tendrils—
But it didn't matter.
They regenerated faster than he could destroy them.
I watched him struggle, his body trembling, his instincts finally registering what was happening.
For the first time—he felt fear.
Good.
I stepped closer, looking down at him as the tendrils wrapped tighter, consuming his mana, his stamina—his life.
"You should've talked."
His body convulsed.
His form collapsed into the tendrils, sinking into the abyss.
Then—
He was gone.
And with him—a notification.
Ding!
[You have consumed an enemy.]
[Effect triggered: You have gained a skill.]
[Acquired Skill: Stealth]
I smirked.
His death wasn't just meaningless.
The abyssal tendrils faded, retreating into the shadows once more.
The room fell silent again.
There was no blood.
No body.
No evidence that he had ever been here.
Except for me.
And the new power I had gained.
I wiped the sweat from my brow.
I had cheated death.
I had erased the fate written for me.
And now?
I was no longer an extra in someone else's story.
I was the executioner of my own fate.
Tonight, I had killed my first assassin.
But I doubted it would be the last.
Before I could relax my instinct's screamed.
TO BE CONTINUE....