Nin threw her arms up in exaggerated defeat. "Fine! But I'm still his favorite!" she declared, sticking her tongue out at Leif before spinning on her heel and stomping away. Her boots thudded dramatically against the ground as she marched toward the garden, muttering loud enough for everyone to hear, "You'll see. He'll be begging for real sword lessons soon."
A ripple of laughter followed in her wake. Even the old man chuckled under his breath, and Klein's expression relaxed into something dangerously close to amused.
Leif seized the moment, stepping up beside Sarion and clapping a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hope you're a morning person," he said, grinning. "Because training starts at dawn. And I don't go easy on sleepyheads."
Sarion blinked, the weight of the day finally catching up to him, but he managed a hesitant nod. "O-Okay... I'll be ready."
"Good lad." Leif gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before turning to say something to Klein and the old man.
Sarion stood there for a moment, still feeling a little lost in the swirl of powerful personalities and overwhelming revelations.
He looked around, unsure of what to do next, when a small voice piped up beside him.
"You looked like a lost duck just now," Mell said, arms crossed and lips pursed. "Standing there like the world was ending or something."
He turned to find her watching him with narrowed eyes—not exactly hostile, but far from friendly. Her foot tapped against the ground.
"I wasn't—" he started, but she cut him off with a scoff.
"Whatever. Doesn't matter." She looked away, nose slightly upturned. "Just... don't get any weird ideas, okay? Everyone might be acting like you're something special, but I was here first."
Sarion blinked. "I didn't mean to—"
"I said it doesn't matter!" she snapped, a little too quickly, cheeks flushing. "Tch. You're just like I was, when I first came here. All wide-eyed and pathetic."
That last word didn't sting as much as he expected. Her tone was more defensive than cruel, like she wasn't quite sure what to do with her own feelings.
She turned and began walking toward the house, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "Well? You coming or not? It's not like I care if you get lost or whatever."
Sarion didn't move.
He watched Mell turn and walk toward the house, flicking her shoulders behind her in that irritated way of hers. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground. Wasn't he supposed to be training with Leif now?
He looked toward the man in question, expecting a call or a wave—but Leif was too busy grinning smugly at Nin, boasting about his "official" status as Sarion's trainer. Nin, red-faced, fired back with dramatic huffs and exaggerated threats about "stealing him back." The old man, not helping in the slightest, was egging them both on with amused comments.
Sarion stood awkwardly, unsure what to do, until a shadow shifted beside him.
Klein.
The boy stiffened instantly, his heartbeat picking up. Standing this close to the man—the Shadow Assassin—sent a chill through him, despite the calm air around them. His thoughts spun. This was the man stories called a monster, a killer who moved in silence, death trailing behind his every step.
And yet... Klein had saved him.
Not just that—he'd accepted him, brought him here. Gave him a place.
Looking at him now, Klein didn't seem like a villain at all. No dark armor, no cold glare. Just a man with tired eyes and an unreadable expression. Still, Sarion didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure how to stand near someone like him.
And Klein… looked just as lost.
The legendary assassin shifted slightly, clearly unsure of how to deal with a boy staring up at him like a spooked animal. He opened his mouth once, then closed it. His hand twitched at his side as if he considered giving Sarion a pat, then thought better of it.
They stood in awkward silence.
A snort broke the moment.
Both turned to see Mell, a few steps ahead, watching them with arms crossed and a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"You two are so weird," she muttered with a chuckle, then turned around again, clearly expecting him to follow this time.
Sarion blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
Sarion took a quiet breath and looked up at the man beside him. His heart thudded in his chest, nerves twisting inside him, but he forced the words out anyway.
"Umm… thank you," he said softly.
Klein blinked, clearly caught off guard. "You're… welcome," he replied, just as awkwardly.
That was it.
They stood there for a second longer, the silence between them strange but not uncomfortable. Sarion glanced back toward Leif, expecting something—maybe a nod, a call to stay—but the man was too busy boasting to Nin, arms waving dramatically as the two bickered like children.
Sarion's shoulders slumped just a little. So much for how adults were supposed to act.
Ahead, Mell had paused near the doorway, glancing back. She snorted when she saw the two of them still frozen, one stiff boy and one stiff assassin. "You're both so weird," she muttered under her breath, then turned and marched into the house.
Sarion hesitated only a moment more, then quietly followed after her, the door closing softly behind him.
The scent of fresh wood and old parchment greeted Sarion as he stepped inside. The house was warm—cozy in a way he hadn't expected from a place filled with warriors. His eyes were still adjusting to the light when a familiar voice called out.
"Don't be mean, Mell."
It was Jon—the bald, muscular man with strong arms and a gentle heart. The same man who had hugged Sarion while he sobbed earlier. The one who had served him warm food that morning like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was sitting comfortably in the living room, thumbing through a thick book with its spine cracked and well-worn.
Mell huffed. "I'm not being mean. He's the weird one." But she didn't stop walking.
She waved Sarion along and turned down a hallway, leading him away from the room he'd woken up in. He hesitated for a step, glancing behind him, unsure if he should ask where they were going. But the words caught in his throat. His thoughts were still spinning.
He was here. In the same house as Nin—the Silver Sword. In the same house as Klein—the Shadow Assassin.
It didn't feel real.
So instead of asking questions, he simply followed Mell's small, grumbling form down the hallway, still trying to make sense of the impossible.
...
They reached a door at the end of the hall—plain wood, a little scuffed near the bottom from years of use. Mell pushed it open without hesitation and stepped aside, her arms crossed as she looked up at him expectantly.
Sarion blinked. "Uh… why? What do you want?"
Mell gave an exaggerated sigh, like he was the one being difficult. "It's investigation time," she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If we're gonna live in the same house, we should at least know each other. That's what normal people do."
He stared at her, unsure what to say. The idea was so… forward. So unlike anything he was used to. Normally, he kept to himself, stayed quiet, waited to see if people would leave him alone. No one had ever demanded to 'investigate' him before.
He hesitated in the doorway, staring at the room beyond. It looked like a study or a cozy reading room—small chairs, a low table, shelves full of things he didn't have time to process.
Was this good? Bad? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that it was strange.
With a quiet sigh, he stepped inside.
Mell gave a sharp nod and stepped in after him, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. The sound made Sarion straighten slightly, uncertain what to expect. When he turned to look at her, she was already glaring up at him with her arms folded.
"So your name's Sarion, right?" she asked, voice flat.
He nodded, unsure why she was asking. She'd been there when he introduced himself earlier. Was this a test?
"Well, too bad," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Big sis Nin already called you Ion, so that's your name now. Inside the house, anyway."
He blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
Mell sighed, the kind of over-the-top, dramatic sigh that only kids could truly master. "Ugh, why is it my job to get you up to speed…"
She tossed her hands up, then jabbed a thumb at herself. "My name is Mellisa. Got it? Mellisa. But does anyone call me that anymore? Nooope. 'Cause big sis Nin decided Mell was cuter, and now even the adults forget I have a full name sometimes."
Sarion tilted his head slightly, absorbing her frustration—not that she seemed that mad. More like… grumpy. Possessive, even.
"So yeah," she said with a shrug. "Now you're Ion. Don't whine about it."
Sarion hesitated, clearly unsure about accepting the nickname. Ion? It felt strange, like giving up part of himself—but Mell was already scowling again, arms crossed and foot tapping like she was just waiting for him to argue. He nodded quickly, swallowing any protest. No point in picking a fight over something so small.
Mell seemed satisfied enough with the response, though she didn't exactly smile.
"Good. You learn fast," she muttered, then plopped down on the floor, legs crossed like a proper interrogator. "Now listen up."
Sarion sat too, a bit more stiffly.
"That old man from earlier?" she started, poking her finger toward the wall like she was pointing through it. "He's the only Arts User in the house. He's here almost every day—sits around like he's made of secrets. Everyone says he used to be somebody, y'know? A big deal."
Sarion kept quiet, nodding slowly.
"And the big guy who gave you breakfast—Jon?" she continued, her tone softening just a little. "He's the house scholar. He came all the way from the Eastern Empire. All the way. I've never been, but… every time he talks about it, I dunno, it sounds amazing."
She trailed off for a second, a faint smile tugging at the edge of her mouth before she quickly wiped it away.
"Anyway. This house? It's actually his. Jon's, I mean. He owns the place."
Mell huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Jon's here pretty much every day too, of course. Wouldn't be his house if he wasn't."
She leaned back on her hands, staring up at the ceiling as she continued, "The others though? Big Sis Nin, Leif, Big Bro Klein… not really. They come and go. Especially Big Bro Klein—he's barely here."
Sarion glanced at her. Her voice dipped just slightly near the end, a kind of quiet frustration clinging to the words. She didn't look at him, but her fingers had started fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
Sarion thought back to earlier—how her face had lit up when Klein entered the yard, the way she stood a little straighter, how her voice had gone brighter just calling out to him. She'd tried to hide it behind complaints and grumbles, but now Sarion saw it clearly.
She was closest to him. Out of everyone here, Klein was the one she looked at like… family. Actual family.
Was he her father? Sarion frowned slightly. No, that didn't fit. There was no blood resemblance, and she didn't call him anything like dad.
But… then again, what did that matter?
Mell suddenly sat up straighter, like she just remembered something important. "Oh—right, duh," she muttered, clearing her throat and looking away, clearly a little embarrassed she hadn't started with this. Then she turned her eyes back to him and asked, "Hey, Ion, do you even know about Ranks or not?"
Sarion twitched slightly at the name. She kept calling him that—Ion—like it was already settled. Like Sarion didn't exist anymore in this house. He sighed quietly, not really up for a fight over a nickname.
"…I don't know much," he said, shrugging a little. "But yeah… I know about Ranks. A little."
Mell nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Good, good," she said, rocking back slightly with her arms crossed. Then she leaned forward again, eyes narrowing a little. "You're not even a Rank 0 right now, you know that?"
Sarion nodded slowly, not sure if she meant it as an insult or a fact.
She beamed—actually beamed—and puffed out her chest a little. "Hmph. I'm already Rank 0."
Before he could react, she kept going, slipping into a lecturing tone like she'd been waiting for this moment. "Anyway. There are two main types of power wielders in the world. Not the only types, but the big ones. The most prominent. There are a few others, but we don't talk about those much."
She held up a finger. "First, there's the Fighters. They use the One Power to boost themselves physically—stronger bodies, faster movements, reinforced weapons, all that."
Another finger went up. "Then, there's the Arts Users. They shape the One Power into performances called Arts. Like Fireballs, gusts of wind, stuff like that."
She glanced at him to make sure he was following, then added, "Pretty basic, but it's important. Especially if you're gonna live here with us."
Sarion considered pointing out that he already knew most of that—about Fighters and Arts Users—but bit his tongue. Mell was already grumpy enough without him giving her a reason to launch into another rant. Picking a fight with her didn't seem worth it.
Mell didn't notice his hesitation and continued without pause. "Like I said earlier, the old man's the only Arts User in the house. The rest? All Fighters. Well—Jon's... something else, but I'll explain that in a bit."
She waved a hand, brushing that part aside for now. "What matters is this: since Leif's gonna be training you, that means you're not fit to be an Arts User."
Sarion blinked, and she pointed a thumb at herself proudly. "I can see the One Power, you know? The blue threads in the air, everywhere. And you—" she jabbed a finger toward him, "—you're not blessed with them. Hardly a thread around you. So, nope. You're not cut out for Arts. But!"
She lifted a finger like she was making an important counterpoint. "That's not a bad thing. Don't get all sulky. Fighters are cool. And strong. And awesome!"
She gave him a toothy grin. "Like Big Bro Klein—the Shadow Assassin, duh."
Sarion gave a small nod. "Yeah… I get it," he muttered. "I've always kinda liked Fighters more anyway."
Mell raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
He shrugged, eyes drifting to the side. "I mean, sure, Arts Users are amazing… but ever since I can remember, I thought Fighters were cooler. Y'know, like the King's Power back in our kingdom?"
Mell blinked, a little surprised, then smirked. "Hmph. Well, at least you're not completely hopeless, Ion."
Sarion sighed quietly. He was already getting used to that name.
Mell cleared her throat, arms crossed as she looked away for a moment. Giving him praise… ugh. She wasn't supposed to like him.
"Tsk. Anyway," she said, recovering her usual tone. "Arts Users are usually stronger than Fighters, you know. Not always, but usually. So don't go crying if you get your butt kicked by one. Got it?"
Sarion nodded, staying quiet even though he already knew that. No need to make the grumpy girl more annoyed than she already was.
Mell glanced at him, then continued with a little more confidence. "Jon—he's, like, Rank 4. He's not a Fighter or an Arts User, and yes, I will explain that later, so don't interrupt."
Sarion blinked but nodded again. He was kind of curious, but he'd wait.
"The old man's a Rank 6, and the only Arts User in the house like I said earlier," Mell went on, lifting a finger for each count. "Leif is Rank 6 too, but he's a Fighter. Big sis Nin… tsk, of course she's Rank 7. She's the Silver Sword."
Her tone dripped with a mix of admiration and irritation, and then—
She lit up, practically glowing.
"And then… Big bro Klein," she said with a grin, her eyes shining with pride. "The Shadow Assassin. Rank 8."
Sarion almost gulped.
In Decartium, the heroes were the Green Sage and the Yellow Sun—both Arts Users, both Rank 5. They were treated like legends, etched into storybooks.
And the King's Power… the strongest of them all. A Rank 6. A walking mountain of strength.
Sarion had grown up thinking that was amazing. That those were the legends among legends. He never believed he could even meet people like them in his life.
But now?
He was living with a Rank 6 Arts User—someone stronger than both the Green Sage and the Yellow Sun.
And Leif, who matched the King's Power in raw might.
That alone felt like a dream.
But then they just had to add a Rank 7 into the mix. Not just anyone, either—the Silver Sword, Nin. Famous not just in Decartium, but across the entire Rosendar Continent.
And then…
Well, why stop there?
Why not throw in someone famous in the entire known world?
The Shadow Assassin. Rank 8. Rumored to be one of the fastest people alive—even when compared to Rank 9s, and yes, even Rank 10s.
Sarion felt like he had somehow stumbled into a storybook… and somehow, he was now a part of it.
Mell caught Sarion's awestruck expression and laughed lightly, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Yup," she said, crossing her arms with a satisfied nod. "We're living with legends. Lucky, huh?"
Sarion could only sigh in awe, feeling the weight of it all settle over him. For a moment, there was silence between them, the reality of their situation sinking in.
But, as usual, Mell didn't let it linger for too long. She cleared her throat and picked up where she left off. "Anyway, since Leif's training you, you're in good hands," she said, her tone casual, though a hint of envy flickered in her voice. "I'm training under the old man… as a Fighter, yes. I know it sounds weird, but here's the thing about him."
She paused, as if savoring the anticipation, then leaned in slightly, her voice dropping as if she were sharing a secret. "The old man's not just a Rank 6 Arts User. He's also a Rank 4 as a Fighter."
Sarion blinked, caught off guard. "What? Both?"
Mell nodded, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Yup. Which means he's on another level compared to other Rank 6s. He's not a Rank 7, sure, but if you put him up against a weak Rank 7? He'd probably give them trouble. Maybe even win."
Sarion stared at her, processing this new information. A part of him wanted to laugh—of course, even their quiet old mentor wasn't just a regular legend. No, he had to be something more. It seemed like this house was full of impossible people.
Mell's voice softened as she leaned back against the wall, arms still crossed but her posture less defensive now. "You're probably wondering why we're all living together in this house, right?" she said quietly. "And… why big bro Klein was in your village yesterday. Why he was the one who saved you."
Her usual bluntness gave way to something more careful, more deliberate. Her words were counted now, measured like each one carried weight she wasn't sure how to drop without breaking something.
Mell looked away, her gaze drifting down to the floor as her arms tightened slightly around herself. She didn't like him—at least, that's what she kept telling herself. Sarion was just some kid thrust into their lives, another responsibility, another mouth to feed. Still… she didn't want to hurt him.
Not after what happened yesterday.
He'd lost everything—his parents, his home. His sister taken by the Black Tower. It had to be the worst night of his life.
And Mell knew what that looked like. What it felt like.
A year ago, something almost exactly like that had happened to her. The screaming, the fire, the helplessness. It didn't go away—not really. You just learned to live around it.
She glanced at Sarion from the corner of her eye. He was quiet, staring at the floor too, fists clenched tight.
Yeah… she didn't like him much. But she knew that pain. And that was enough.
Sarion waited, silent and still, eyes fixed on the girl as she stared off into the distance. Mell's arms had dropped to her sides now, fingers curling and uncurling as if caught in a rhythm only she could feel. She took a deep breath, shaky, almost hesitant.
"You must hate the Black Tower… right?" she asked, not looking at him.
He didn't speak. Just nodded once. But the fire in his eyes said everything. Hate wasn't enough. He wanted them gone. Erased. Every last one of them.
Mell gave a small, bitter smile. "Yeah… I feel the same."
She paused. Her throat moved as she swallowed something—grief, maybe. Anger. She looked away again, her voice falling low.
"Because one year ago…"
Her words drifted off, unfinished. Whatever came next clung to her lips, unwilling to be spoken just yet. A silence settled between them. Heavy. Shared.
And for now… that was enough.
A moment passed. Sarion didn't speak, didn't move—he just watched her, the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.
Then Mell spoke again, her voice quieter than before.
"I used to have an older sister," she said, barely above a whisper. "She was around Big Sis Nin's age. We lived together in this kingdom—Decartium—but in a different village, way up north."
Her tone softened with the memory, but there was a tremble just beneath the words.
"We were orphans. Lived with our uncle. She was… everything to me. Strong. Brave. She became an adventurer, and somehow, she met Big Bro Klein." A faint smile touched her lips, just for a second. "The two of them fell in love. They got married. That was two years ago."
Her eyes darkened as the smile faded.
"She was expecting a baby."
Mell's hands clenched at her sides now, her fingers digging into her palms.
"Big bro Klein… he always spoiled her. Treated her like a queen. Took care of her—and me too. And she loved him for it. Our uncle liked him too, though he pretended not to."
She swallowed hard.
"Then… last year, one night… Big bro Klein wasn't home. He was away on a mission. It was late. There was a fire."
Her jaw clenched. Her voice thickened with fury.
"Those bastards… the Black Tower came. They attacked our village."
Sarion stiffened.
"My sister and our uncle fought to protect everyone. They held the line long enough for most people to get away. But…"
Her breath hitched. Her eyes didn't shine, but the pain in them was raw.
"My sister died that night. So did the baby."
She looked away now, jaw tight, as if speaking it aloud was too much.
"My uncle and I barely made it out. We escaped through the forest and made it to a nearby city by dawn."
A silence.
"Come morning," she said at last, "Big Bro Klein returned from his mission."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"And he found out what happened."
Sarion gulped, the lump in his throat heavy as Mell's story sank deep into his heart. Her pain mirrored his own too closely—his parents, gone. His village, reduced to ashes. And worst of all… his little sister, taken by those monsters from the Black Tower. His hands trembled, but he clenched them, forcing himself to focus. Now wasn't the time to drown in it.
Mell's voice continued, softer now, tinged with sorrow and something else—resolve.
"After Big Bro Klein found out what happened… he didn't say a word. Just said he'd be back. And then he disappeared for over a month."
Sarion's eyes flicked toward her. A month?
"When he finally returned…" Her voice faltered, just briefly. "My uncle had died. Turns out, when he held the line that night, he was poisoned. We didn't even realize it until it was too late."
Sarion lowered his gaze again. That kind of pain… Mell had lived it too.
"It broke both of us even more," she whispered. "Big Bro Klein said he'd take care of me. That I was his last family, and he was mine."
She gave a weak smile, one full of tired warmth. "So he brought me here. Said he'd protect me. Train me. So I could protect myself too."
There was a beat of silence before she went on, her voice steadier now.
"I kept asking him why so many strong people were living here. And two months ago, he finally told me."
She straightened up a little, eyes meeting Sarion's.
"He created something. An organization. It's still secret. Still growing. But it has a purpose."
Sarion leaned forward, barely breathing.
"There are two goals," Mell said. "One's the secondary goal: to help as many people as possible from the shadows. Quietly. Silently. Like heroes no one sees."
Her eyes sharpened, her voice dropping into something colder, more fierce.
"And the main goal… the one that matters most to him, and to me…"
Sarion could feel the weight of the moment building.
"…to take revenge on the Black Tower."
She paused. Then she said it.
"He called it..."
"Revengers."
—End of Chapter.