The drums began at dawn.
Low, guttural beats, followed by horns that tore through the fog like a battle cry. The entire camp rumbled awake—not with grogginess, but with tension that thickened the air.
It was 5:00 AM.
And yet, the world outside remained cloaked in deep blue shadow.
---
Inside the tent, Light stirred.
Not from sleep—but from instinct.
His eyes snapped open. Muscles tightened. He sat up silently and activated his Focus and Cool Mind skills in a single breath. The world around him sharpened, slowed.
He stepped out into the mist, his steps vanishing into the wet soil, and made his way to his hidden cave nearby. There, he retrieved a few key items he had prepared in advance: paper, pen, rope, salve, and a fresh set of rations.
But as he turned to head back, something made him stop.
A sudden thought.
He stood frozen for a moment, back pressed lightly against a moss-covered tree. His breath steady. Then… a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.
> "Let's even the field," he thought.
---
He moved through the trees, this time toward a particular ridge—the same spot where he had seen the group of eight rebels keeping watch earlier. They were still there. Focused. Alert.
And now, two of them—spies, planted deep inside enemy lines—had returned.
Light crouched behind a boulder, pulled out a blank sheet of paper, and wrote a short message.
Quick. Clean. Devastating.
He waited for the right moment. Then with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the folded note toward the group's leader. The man flinched, caught the paper mid-air. But by the time he looked up—
Light was already gone.
Vanished into the mist.
> "Whoever wins... I win too."
His smile lingered as he melted back into the trees.
---
By the time he reached the central war ground, the transformation was complete.
An army of steel and shadow stood assembled—nearly eight thousand strong. Knights in polished plate armor stood in rows of eight, each group backed by ten more. Sixty clusters in total, arranged with precision. A few squads patrolled the perimeter: fast, efficient, silent. Security detail.
Light's Focus picked up everything.
> "Around 7700 to 8000 troops," he estimated silently. "Well-fed. Well-trained. Disciplined. No wasted motion."
Ahead of the army stood the imperial command tier.
The emperor's sons stood on a raised platform, each flanked by advisors, elite guards, and personal tacticians. Behind them, banners marked their rank, status, and family insignia. Their expressions were unreadable—but their eyes scanned every face in the ranks like wolves scenting blood.
Front and center stood the general, addressing the troops, rousing them with words that echoed through the morning fog.
But Light's eyes were drawn to the side—to the one figure who stood apart from them all.
The Assassin Queen.
The emperor's sister. Black cloak billowing faintly in the breeze. Her gaze not on the general… but on the empty battlefield beyond.
Unblinking. Unmoved.
Listening. Waiting.
---
Among the crowd, Light's eyes caught a familiar presence.
The Silent Fang unit.
Grouped with a knight division, but clearly separate—by demeanor, gear, and aura. Black armor. No visible insignias except the burning crown pierced by a spear.
But Light had already learned more about them.
From whispered conversations he had overheard, and the badge that still hung inside his tunic pocket.
---
> "They're not just elite," someone had said, "they're the cleaners." "Whenever one of the emperor's brats causes a mess… they're the ones who bury it."
Another voice:
> "They operate under no prince. Only the emperor. Shadows, ghosts. They're the ones who make things vanish—people, problems, truths."
Light's mind pieced it together.
> "So the badge I carry… it's not just access. It's protection. It's silence."
No one in the army knew who all belonged to the unit. Not even the members knew one another. They moved independently. Masked. Faceless. Only the emperor and his direct spymasters could decode their identities.
And now, Light stood among them—yet also apart.
> "As long as I don't show my face or speak my name… I remain a ghost."
> "And a very dangerous one."
---
Meanwhile, the battlefield remained still.
Because no one truly knew what would happen today.
Not the commanders. Not the princes. Not even the rebellion.
Everyone suspected the Rebellion King would arrive.
But no one expected the other side to already know that they knew.
Except one Group now did.
Thanks to Light.
The note he had dropped had carried one message:
> "They know he's coming. And they're ready. Assassin Queen is here. So is the Silent Fang."
Now, both sides thought they had the upper hand.
Both were wrong.
---
Light moved toward the Assassin Queen again. Rain began to fall—soft at first, then heavier. He approached her from behind and whispered just loud enough:
> "They know."
She turned instantly. Silent. Swift. Like a dagger drawn in moonlight.
Her eyes locked on his.
> "I didn't even hear him," she thought.
A ripple passed through her mind.
> "So this is what others must feel… when I'm behind them."
She studied him closely now.
He was good. Very good. Not stronger than her—but close.
> "He could defeat me," she thought, "but it would cost him dearly. And I'd make him bleed."
Light didn't flinch. He wanted her to see him as non-threatening. It was calculated.
Her voice was low and sharp:
> "What do they know?"
Light replied simply:
> "They know… that we know."
That was enough.
She understood immediately.
Her gaze drifted back to the battlefield. A faint smile touched her lips.
> "Rebellion King…"
She whispered the name like it was a song long forbidden.
Light stepped back, watching her.
> "I don't move yet," he thought. "Not until I see all the pieces. Who commands, who reacts, who folds, who hides."
> "Every plan starts with observation."
He wasn't here to fight. Not yet.
He was here to watch. To listen.
To understand everything before making his move.
And once the game truly began…
he'd choose his side.