Thick fog blanketed the forest as Light descended the tree. His boots landed softly on the mossy earth, senses alert. He began walking back toward the cave every sound, every leaf crunch beneath his feet amplified by his Focus skill.
Just as he passed the bend near the tree line—
THWACK!
A sharp kick struck his back, hard. He stumbled forward, catching himself at the last moment. Instantly, he spun around.
There a shadowed figure stood, just at the edge of the mist. Cloaked in black. Silent. Motionless.
Light's eyes narrowed.
Who the hell was this?
His Cool Mind calmed the instinctive fear rising in his gut.
"Not a thief," Light whispered to himself, eyes scanning the man's stance. "Too quiet for that... trained."
The figure didn't speak. He advanced.
Without warning, the figure lunged. Fast—faster than Light expected. A blur of movement, dagger aimed straight for his neck.
Light ducked. The blade missed by inches, slicing a strand of his hair.
He didn't panic. Cool Mind engaged. His thoughts cleared, sharp as steel.
The attacker didn't stop he spun, low and fast, dagger reversing grip for a backhand slash.
"Focus," Light muttered.
Everything slowed. The flick of the wrist, the bend in the assassin's knee he saw it all.
He raised his arm, deflecting the blow with the edge of his forearm guard.
It hurt, but not enough to shake him.
Light twisted sideways, barely dodging. Steel sliced across his shoulder, grazing skin. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth.
Time to respond.
He rolled backward, widening the gap. The figure didn't stop he pressed forward with a flurry of blows. Light blocked with his forearm, each strike sending shock through his bones. This man wasn't just fast he was trained.
"Hot Blood," Light whispered.
A pulse surged through his body.
The chill of fear vanished. Adrenaline flooded in. Muscles tightened. Senses exploded. Every heartbeat pumped fire into his limbs.
He felt unstoppable.
He stepped in not back and threw a punch directly at the assassin's ribs. The man blocked with his elbow, then went for Light's leg. A sweep kick. Light jumped, countered with a spinning elbow aimed at the man's head but missed by inches.
The assassin's style was disciplined, efficient. Light's was improvised but explosive. They clashed again.
Punch. Parry. Kick. Duck. Slam.
Then it happened.
A sharp flicker.
Not in Light's body but in the assassin's eyes.
A sudden beam of white light blasted from Light's left hand his flashlight, pulled from his gear in one swift motion. The dense fog lit up like paper catching fire.
The assassin recoiled instantly, hands flying to shield his face.
"What the fu—"
His words choked before they could form. He stumbled backward, disoriented eyes blinking rapidly, pupils shrinking violently, unprepared for a technology this world had never seen.
Light stepped forward slowly, voice low and cold:
> "Welcome to the new age, cave rat. You're fighting someone from a world where shadows don't stand a chance."
The assassin growled, shaking his head as if to regain focus. But Light didn't wait.
Light feinted left—dropped low—and tackled him to the side. The assassin hit the ground with a dull thud, and Light mounted his chest, knife drawn.
One moment of hesitation.
The man's hand twitched toward his waist—
Too late.
Light drove the blade into his side.
Not the heart—lungs. Slower death.
The man gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. "...He won't be the last."
Light didn't reply. He held the man's gaze until the last breath escaped.
Silence returned.
So did the fog.
He stood up, breathing heavily. Hot Blood still coursed through his veins. But its effects were wearing off—he could feel the ache in his limbs now.
Kneeling, Light searched the body.
A sealed envelope marked with a dragon emblem.
A small crystal-like compass.
Three throwing knives.
A dark leather band with a strange symbol.
He kept it all. Not knowing what mattered most. He'd figure it out later.
Dragging the corpse back into the forest, Light found a soft patch of dirt. With his folding shovel, he dug deep—covering the body with care. No prayers. Just silence.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looked toward the mountain edge again.
He whispered to himself,
"If they sent one, they'll send more."
And then… he smiled faintly.
Because this time, in a clean 1 vs 1,
He didn't panic.
He didn't freeze.
He won.
Still breathing steadily, Light tucked his flashlight back into his belt pouch, wiped the sweat off his brow, and took a deep breath.
"Not bad…" he muttered.
But caution hadn't left his system yet.
He looked up toward the hillside where the fight had started, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
> "Let's just make sure I didn't leave any trace…"
With that, Light ascended the ridge once more his boots light on the rocky path, breath now even. He arrived at the clearing and scanned every inch of the battleground. The broken twigs, the crushed dirt, even the assassin's earlier tracks… all wiped clean by the wind and terrain.
> "Good. No bodies. No blood. No noise. No evidence."
He exhaled with calm satisfaction and turned to descend.
But—
Someone was standing there.
Directly in his path.
A few feet away.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Silent.
Cloaked. Shadowed.
Light stopped mid-step. His eyes narrowed.
He didn't flinch.
He just muttered with a half-smirk—
> "Ah, shit… here we go again."
Just like CJ from San Andreas—
But this wasn't a joke.
He started walking… slowly… towards the figure.