The doors to the Hall of Elimination groaned open one final time.
From the darkness, scorched and bloodied, the survivors stepped into the pale morning light. There were only a few left—perhaps forty out of the hundred who had entered. Each one bore wounds. Some limped. Others held bloodied weapons, knuckles white. Some stared ahead with hollow eyes, unable to blink away the images burned into their minds.
Xero walked among them. His coat was scorched along the back, his face streaked with soot and blood. Sonze was behind him, limping slightly, his forearm wrapped in a torn cloth. Clark followed with a new scar across his cheek. Xui Hai was nowhere in sight.
A tall man waited at the far end of the courtyard. He was slender but well-built, with long blond hair tied back in a soldier's braid and eyes that sparkled with strange warmth. A sword was strapped across his back, though he made no motion to touch it. His uniform was less formal than Idran's—looser, worn, and marked with hundreds of tiny stitched patterns along the sleeves.
Instructor Derick.
He stepped forward as the group emerged, his hands behind his back.
"Welcome," he said, voice calm but carrying across the stone courtyard. "You are the survivors of the Fifth Trial. That means something. That means you understand what it takes to be an assassin. "
He began pacing slowly before them.
"You have all killed. Some of you killed strangers. Some of you killed friends. And some of you killed parts of yourselves. There is no test more personal than the Fifth. There is no trauma more bitter. You think you passed?"
He stopped.
"You didn't pass. You endured." Xero stared ar him shocked. All he had passed through was considered nothing before this freak standing before him.
He let the silence sit, dragging the weight of the moment down upon their shoulders.
"And for that, I offer you not applause, but acknowledgment. Because from today, you are not just recruits of Castle Loon. You are potential weapons. You are potential assassins."
A soft wind blew through the courtyard.
Derick's gaze swept over each of them. His eyes lingered on Xero, then Sonze, then Clark. His voice lowered in tone, becoming almost conspiratorial.
"Let me tell you something about being an assassin. It's not just about swinging blades or throwing knives. It's not about strength or speed or magic. It's about control. Of your actions. Of your mind. Of your fear. Will you he able to slaughter a demon in such velour. "
He folded his arms.
"I've seen strong recruits crumble because they couldn't handle the weight of guilt. I've seen weak ones rise because they knew how to bury the pain and keep moving. If you let guilt control you, you die. If you let pride control you, you become sloppy. And if you let fear take root… well, fear spreads like poison. It turns skilled hands into trembling ones."
Clark swallowed, glancing at Sonze, who remained stoic. Xero held his breath.
Derick continued, "This path, this life. It's a choice. And now that you've killed, it is a path you walk whether you want to or not. So you better walk it with your eyes open."
He began to pace again.
"You will be trained. Harder than you thought possible. You'll learn poisons. You'll learn how to kill without a trace. You'll learn how to move through shadows, and strike in broad daylight. You'll learn the art of patience, because a real assassin sometimes waits days for a single perfect kill."
He turned abruptly.
"You will be tested mentally. Emotionally. You will be broken. Then you will be reforged. And if you break again, we leave you behind."
A long pause. Then Derick took a deep breath.
"But… there is honor in what we do. We are the invisible justice. We stop monsters before they grow teeth. We eliminate threats before they bring war. We remove the corrupted so the innocent may sleep. It's a dirty path—but it has meaning. And if you forget that meaning, then you're no better than the ones we hunt."
Just then, a soft sound echoed from the archway. Footsteps. Precise. Unhurried. Idran stepped in. His arua rising. Everyone froze at his sight.
His robe was pristine, his expression cold. He stepped into the courtyard, and silence fell like snowfall. Even Derick stepped aside, lowering his head respectfully.
Idran stood still for several long seconds before speaking.
"Do you know why we call Castle Loon an assassin campus?"
No one answered.
"Because it's not a school. It's not a training camp. It is a battlefield. One that never ends. One where your mind is as much your weapon as your dagger."
He walked forward slowly, boots echoing off the stone.
"Five tests. That's what it took to narrow you down from thousands to this number. Each one cut the weakest. The slowest. The hesitant. Some of you just barely survived. Others rose through blood and instinct."
He stopped in front of Sonze.
"You… are strong. But you act without thought. If you do not learn to restrain your force, you will destroy more than your target."
He moved to Clark.
"You have resolve. But you carry guilt. Learn to wear it like armor. Not a shackle."
Then to Xero.
"You… You are something else entirely."
Xero blinked, startled. "Sir?"
"There is shadow in you. Not cowardice. Not doubt. Something older. Deeper. I don't know what you are yet, but I know this: whatever you are, you don't know it either. Be careful. Because if it wakes before you're ready, it will destroy you."
Xero nodded, but his mind buzzed.
Idran turned back to the crowd and he continued to thrive them.
"You know why the assassins are feared?" He thundered. A girl summoned the courage the speak.
"Because they slay demons." She muttered. Idran smiled.
"No. Assassins bear the guilt of betrayal and deaths. They know what it means to be betrayed and as well to betray. This makes them extremely dangerous. Take this. No assassin is a pure soul. When it comes down it, they all have selfish reasons and thoughts." Idran shot. Xero's eyes narrowed in shock. Did that he was one them? But he was not selfish. He was a caring... He was snapped out of his thoughts.
"You are no longer children. You are no longer hopeful dreamers who thought they would learn to fight and look cool in black coats. That ends today. From now on, every moment is a test. Every breath is a decision. We are not training you to fight. We are training you to eliminate. To disappear. To survive."
A beat of silence.
"Sleep. Eat. Heal your wounds. Tomorrow, we begin the real lessons."
He turned sharply and disappeared back through the archway.
Derick waited a few moments, then looked back at the group.
"Welcome… to Castle Loon."
The recruits didn't cheer. That would be stupid. They didn't smile. That would be hilarious.
They only stood there, quiet and burning with something new. Purpose.