CHAPTER 1: THE NIGHT OF SLAUGHTER
For centuries, the art of assassination had been honed to perfection. By 2022, the world no longer belonged to kings or governments—it belonged to the shadows. Blood ran through the streets, and death was nothing more than a transaction.
Among the countless assassin clans, one name stood above all—the Izzo Clan. They were more than killers. They were monsters in human skin. No hesitation. No mercy. No failure.
But not all were content with the endless slaughter. A rival guild, fearing that assassination had gone too far, sought to eradicate the assassin world itself. Their plan? To create superhumans—warriors capable of wiping out even the deadliest killers. But the experiment backfired. Instead of controlling power, they unleashed it, spreading energy across the world. Five percent of humanity awakened abilities beyond imagination, and the balance of power shifted forever.
And in the midst of it all—Ardyn Izzo, heir to the most feared clan in Japan.
But unlike his ancestors, he did not thirst for blood. He did not seek power. He wanted only one thing—to end it all.
A Night of Cold Blood
The streets of Mai Kingdom were silent beneath the full moon's eerie glow. The wind carried the scent of damp earth, mixing with something heavier. Something metallic.
A lone figure moved through the night, his steps soundless. He was a shadow, unseen and unstoppable. The first guards at the gate never even had time to scream.
Shhk.
Two slashes. Two bodies collapsed in silence.
The assassin did not stop. Scaling the palace walls in a single movement, he vanished into the rooftops. Below, the city slept, unaware that death had already entered its halls.
Inside the palace, torches flickered, casting long, shifting shadows. Some guards stood alert, but others leaned lazily against the walls, unaware of their fate.
The killer moved like a ghost.
A flicker of silver. A whisper of steel.
Blood sprayed across the cold stone floors. One by one, they fell, never even seeing the face of their murderer.
And then—
HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
The alarm rang.
A piercing, shrill noise that split the night in half.
The kingdom stirred. Footsteps thundered down the halls, voices barked orders, steel clashed against steel.
The assassin did not run. He walked. Step by step, through the bodies, through the blood.
The doors to the royal chamber stood before him—tall, carved with intricate gold designs. Without hesitation, he pressed a hand against the wood.
BOOM!
The doors burst open.
The king sat upright in his bed, eyes wide with fear. His lips trembled, but no sound escaped. He knew.
This was the end.
The assassin stepped forward. The dagger gleamed.
The king's final breath left his lips in silence.
By the time the guards arrived, it was too late.
The King of Mai lay in pieces—his body torn apart, a grotesque masterpiece of blood and flesh.
"There! Kill him!"
Swords unsheathed. Torches lit up the chamber. The assassin turned to face them.
A storm of blood followed.
He moved like death itself, his dagger flashing through the air. Guards lunged. They fell. More rushed in. They died.
But then—
BOOM!
A fist slammed into the assassin's chest, sending him flying into the stone wall. The impact shook the room.
The killer coughed, wiping blood from his lips. His eyes flicked up, locking onto the man who had struck him.
Dressed in black, his expression cold—this was no ordinary soldier. The kingdom's special assassin.
The killer grinned, pain clear in his voice.
"What a pain in the ass."
The two clashed, steel against steel, fists meeting flesh, their movements almost too fast to follow. The assassin dodged, countered, slashed—
And then, a single, fatal strike.
The special assassin's head rolled across the floor.
But before the killer could take another step—
THUNK!
An arrow pierced his back.
He stumbled, breath hitching. His fingers trembled as they reached behind him.
Poison.
His vision blurred. His body felt heavier.
A voice echoed through the chamber.
"Oh, my glorious Izzo comrade… there is no Izzo anymore."
The assassin turned, fury burning in his fading eyes.
One last swing.
One last slash.
The voice fell silent.
And then, so did the assassin.
---
The Next Morning – Ardyn's Perspective
The smell of blood was the first thing Ardyn noticed.
The palace courtyard was littered with bodies. Soldiers. Servants. A massacre.
He stepped forward, his boots squelching against the pools of crimson.
And then, his gaze fell upon the corpse at the center of it all.
A man, dressed in Izzo colors.
One of his own.
Dead.
Ardyn's jaw clenched.
Another meaningless slaughter. Another night drowned in blood.
His hands curled into fists.
The world had been like this for too long. A cycle of violence, of power, of endless death.
And he was done with it.
The Izzo Clan would not stop. The assassins would not stop. The killings would never stop—
Unless he made it stop.
Ardyn turned away from the corpses, his path clear.
This was the night the world changed.
This was the night Ardyn declared war on the assassins.