In the dim basement beneath the rubble of what had once been a home, Noctura sat cross-legged on cracked stone, speaking in a low, steady voice.
Vlad, Sera, and Thomas listened to her in silence, carefully noting every important detail.
On the other hand, the male silhouette perched beside her—unseen, and unfelt. Its attention was fixed on her with quiet fascination.
That story is entertaining, it mused. It would've been even better if I'd been there in person.
Technically, I could go back and watch it unfold if i wanted to… but would that dull the flavour of what's still to come? Well, no harm in trying I guess. I'll go back and see for myself.
With that, the male silhouette faded from the present, sliding backward through time to the first brutal instant of the demon's arrival and inserting itself into Noctura's past without altering a single thing.
—Moments before—
Noctura started speaking, unaware that a being absent from her memory had just stepped into it.
"My parents died when I was young. We lived in a tiny village—which had a few houses at most, far from anywhere that mattered. It was peaceful with no crime, no violence, and nothing to worry about. Then one day, I went to the river for water. When I came back… everything was burning. There were corpses everywhere, and not a single breath was left. And then, he appeared..."
Noctura recalled the memory of the day her life was permanently altered.
•••
A man stepped from the smoke, his face eerily like my father's. He claimed to be my uncle, and said that he and my father had come from a distant land—one where bloodlines carried lethal legacies.
Apparently, my father had been the heir to the title of Assassin Head. He met my mother just before the inheritance. As it turns out, custom forbade the Assassin Head from forming ties outside the order. That meant no love, no family, nothing of that sort.
At best, one was only ever allowed to have descendants, but that was all. Even then, raising them wasn't your task, nor could they ever be acknowledged as your child.
The only thing that mattered was the blood of an assassin flowing through them. Only when it awakens, would the offspring gain any value.
Uncle—obsessed with the position, had always craved it. Together with my parents, they devised a plan. My father fled with my mother, aided by uncle, while he remained to inherited the mantle as the last true heir.
They were hunted for months, until uncle spread rumors of their deaths using his connections and eventually, the pursuit stopped. My parents built the quiet, peaceful life together that they'd dreamed of—until unknown forces claimed them.
I was taken back to the hidden city—being told the story on the way. I trained under uncle's watchful eye, driven by one goal, to uncover who—or what, had burned my village and killed both of my parents, as well as all the innocent people of my village.
My bloodline made me a prodigy.
I outstripped all of my peers, then most of the adult instructors as well. Resentment followed soon after—whispers that I was the child of traitors who had abandoned their duty, but I ignored it all.
Revenge was the only thing that mattered to me. I took on contracts, and then executed them flawlessly and cold. Over time, fragments of the truth surfaced, piece by piece. After countless completed missions, I earned the right to leave Grimveil and pursue the trail.
The leads led all across the county in various places. At some point, allies joined me—others whose homes had beed razed by demons as well.
We traveled together, their shared hatred for demons made them useful to me, as well as the basic information they had, which I lacked. That's largely the reason why I didn't refuse for them to travel with me.
That said, there was one thing that bothered me about them. And it was the fact that they constantly indulged themselves in pleasure whenever they had a chance.
And yes, all three of them did it. Though, what I found interesting was the fact that neither the swordsman or the tank knew that they were sharing the mage.
In the end, it wasn't any of my business, just something I noticed and choice not to care about.
One day, we reached a small town under siege by a demon. A massive slime, which was blue-green, viscous, and unstoppable.
In just a matter of days, it had slaughtered almost every woman and girl—from infants to elders, and kept the men as hostages, leaving them to die of hunger.
We confronted the demon.
The tank and swordsman drew its attention close range while I focused on mid to long range with the mage.
The slime waited at the mansion, rippling in the center of the ruined hall after devouring its latest victim—a toddler girl, given the doll left on the ground that was recently covered in slime.
Slimes have a resistance to physical attacks, but are naturally weak against magical based attacks. With that in mind, our plan was simple—distract it, open a path, and let the mage end it.
The tank wore black full-plate armor, helmet hiding all but brown eyes and a thick beard. He carried two massive outward-curved shields on both arms, and he was built like a fortress.
Whenever he slammed the two shields on the ground, he would create a small dome of rocks around him or a few targets.
The swordsman had long silver hair, crimson eyes, a black-and-gray armor with a white cape flowing behind. His steel sword gleamed silver with a golden undertone, and the sheath matched.
He couldn't use magic, but his swordsmanship more than made up for it. At the very least, he's talent was above most normal humans.
As for the mage herself, she wore a classic witch attire—buckled hat, short green-and-yellow tunic with frilled skirt, knee-high boots, with mana rings glinting on her fingers. She had thick golden locks, and vivid green eyes.
She could use wind magic, but didn't have any talent for it.
Her mana reserves were shallow—so much so that she could only manage one high tier spell or several low tier ones. Hence the mana rings on each of her ten fingers.
It was a very odd grouping of people. Though, given the circumstances, I could sort of understand how and why they got together.
Even though I never asked any of them to, they did share a bit about their lives with me. Things such as their back stories, goals, and such. But I barely remember most of it.
The swordsman grew up watching the Hero as a kid. And even without the ability to use magic, he was still determined to follow in the Hero's footsteps and save people.
And so, he trained as hard as he could until he mastered the sword. Fortunately for him, what he lacked in mana, he made up for in talent with a sword.
The tank, on the other hand, was born and raised as a mercenary. After giving up that life to start a family, he soon realized that the quiet life wasn't meant for him.
After countless sleepless nights caused by what he reasoned as PTSD, he decided that there was only one option for himself. And so, he left his wife and infant behind, leaving them with all his life savings as an apology for being a failure of a husband, and a father.
As for the mage, she came from a renowned family. After reaching adulthood, she had her allowance taken from her, and told to make a name for herself instead of relying on her inheritance.
With her lack of talent for magic, she soon realized that her best option was giving men her body in exchange of forming a party with her. They would sleep with her, take on requests to kill monsters together, and she would move on to the next party after getting paid, and repeat the process again.
And after some time, the three would eventually form a party together, where they met me during one of their requests.
And yes, the mage had given her body, to both the swordsman and the tank, in order to join the party. Of course, since both men kept it a secret from the other man, not wanting to make things awkward between the party, they ended up in a situation were they had sex with the same woman without even knowing it.
A part of me felt bad for her, since she somehow had to have sex with either men almost every night, as well as having to explain why she couldn't do so in specific days, since she would be with the other one.
But in the end, she brought it on to herself. And again, it wasn't any of my business. So, I did what any person in my situation would do, and chose to not care about any of it at all.
Going back the the slime demon...
Our fight with the demon dragged on for quite some time far longer than what I would've liked.
A slime can regenerate itself endlessly, unless if its core is shattered. After a repetitive struggle, the mage finally trapped it using "Tempest Vortex", which was a roaring sphere of slicing wind.
The slime, ignorant of the barrier's lethality, tried to escape, causing it to tear itself apart, slice by slice.
The pain was real for it, due to the attack being magic based. We used that to our advantage. Interrogating it—everytime it refused to talk, I instructed the mage to reduce the wind sphere in size, severing chuncks of the slime.
After an hour or more of torture, the slime finally broke.
A giant spider demon named Tarantus, had orchestrated the attacks on remote settlements, culling human strength before the Demon King awakened to face the Hero.
The tank and swordsman stared in shock after hearing the news, while the mage went pale, trembling, and almost collapsing.
Initially, I thought that this was because of her simply running out of mana, and didn't think too much about it.
Before I could press the demon any further, the slime whispered something that struck me like a blade.
Then, calm and almost relieved, the slime muttered. "For the Demon King." before it swelled against the vortex. The barrier shredded it into countless evaporating fragments, killing itself.
My blood ran cold. "I have to go back." I said.
I bolted from the mansion—night, fatigue, allies, none of it mattered to me in that moment. Still, the others followed behind me. The mage, drained and shaking, was being carried by the tank.
We piled into a sleek, speed-tuned hatchback and tore toward Grimveil.
On the road, the mage—her voice trembling, explained that Tarantus had destroyed her hometown too. She had witness the demon kill her grandparent, and devour the head of her cousin whole.
It was that incident that led her to go and live with her wealthy relatives, who clearly didn't care for her—as she herself said it.
Hearing this, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. After all, I was granted the mercy of not witnessing my parents' last moments.
If I were her, would I have been able to move on after seeing such a sight? I thought as uncle's image formed in my mind. If it weren't for uncle, then I...
I didn't let the thought linger for a moment longer, not wanting to know how I would've turned out had it not been for uncle.
By the time we arrived, Grimveil's protective illusion was already collapsing. Corpses littered the streets. Hundreds of thousands of spider demons swarmed—mindless, relentless, and outnumbering the assassins three to one.
Even the finest killers couldn't stem the tide.
After all, a single grasshopper might be able to kill dozens of ants easily, but hundreds of them would eventually overwhelm it. That's exactly how the situation in Grimveil was unfolding.
My party went straight into the fray—trying to change the tide of the battle. Unfortunately for them, they were too exhausted from the previous fight and hadn't fully recovered yet. Still, they fought to the very end.
The tank's Rock Dome cracked under endless blows. Without it, his defense crumbled. A spider's mandibles tore through his helmet and devoured his head whole.
The mage's rings flickered out. With her mana gone, she became a mere ordinary human, no match for man-sized monsters. Spider legs stabbed and sliced her apart, and her body fell in scattered bloody pieces.
The swordsman lasted the longest—silver blade dancing, carving through wave after wave. But steel dulled and without a sharp edge, he had nothing left. His body vanished into the swarm, devoured or dragged away.
As for me, I had reunited with uncle, and the two of us pressed deeper, toward the heart of the city.
He pressed a weapon into my hands. "This was your father's, or was supposed to be at least. Regardless of that, it belongs to you now. Take it."
The kunai—obsidian steel, violet sheen, silk-wrapped handle, with a rune-etched ring, felt heavy with meaning. Passing it on meant that I was now Assassin Head.
I met his eyes, and felt that refusal wasn't an option.
"Thank you, uncle. I'll always cherish it."
"I know you will." he said with a warm smile.
We stepped into the ruined hall.
A lone demon waited in the center—patient and expectant.
"Welcome." it said, grinning wide to reveal rows of needle teeth, and two dagger-like fangs.
My hair stood on end. Uncle raised a hand to caution me.
If even he—fearless in nearly all things, was wary of the demon, then this only reaffirmed to me just how dangerous this demon was.
•••
Skipping past Noctura's entire tragic childhood, the male silhouette jumped straight to the invasion. The burning village blurred and melted into a burning city in one dreamlike smear of motion.
Standing between uncle and niece, arms draped casually over their shoulders, the male silhouette strolled forward until its face was inches from the demon's.
Looks like I'm here. There's not much that needs to be said, just make it an interesting one.
It positioned itself at the perfect vantage point—a short hover away, poised like a director watching a long-awaited scene finally unfold.
And... begin!