I rolled just as a blade slashed through the space where my neck had been.
Air screamed.
Steel passed so close I felt the wind of it against my skin.
An assassin.
Another nightmare, standing in plain sight.
I didn't think.
I moved.
I drove my shoulder into him, slamming him hard into the corridor wall. The impact rattled my bones, but my body held. Years of swimming had carved me into something dense, explosive—muscle built for endurance and force, not finesse.
My elbow crashed into his jaw.
I felt it crack.
He staggered back, choking.
Another rushed me from the side.
I ducked instinctively, grabbed his arm, twisted—hard.
Something snapped.
A sharp, wet sound.
He screamed.
I smashed his face into the floor once.
Twice.
Again and again until his body went slack.
"Where is Renya?!" I roared, my voice tearing itself apart.
"WHERE IS MY RENYA?!"
More came.
They poured out of the corridor like shadows given form.
And then—
Steel flashed.
Knives flew.
Not wild.
Not desperate.
Precise.
Blades cut through the air toward me in staggered arcs, spinning end over end. The first passed so close it shaved the air beside my ear. The second scraped across my shoulder, heat and pain bursting together. The third slammed into the wall behind me with a crack that echoed down the corridor.
I moved.
My body reacted before thought could catch up—ducking, twisting, stepping into gaps that barely existed. Years of training kicked in, not as technique, but as instinct. Reading motion. Timing breath. Measuring distance.
Another blade came straight for my throat.
I caught it.
The impact jolted my arm, metal biting into my palm, but my fingers closed tight around the hilt.
For half a second, the corridor went still.
I threw it back.
The knife tore through the rain-heavy air and struck one of them square in the chest.
He staggered—
And another assassin stepped in front of him, blade already drawn.
Steel rang as he deflected it with his sword.
Sparks scattered across the floor.
No words.
Just eyes narrowing.
Calculating.
Reassessing.
The barrage stopped.
And the pressure in the air changed.
Like something heavier was about to fall.
And then—
The floor beneath my feet changed.
Darkness spread outward in a ripple, swallowing the pale hospital tiles like ink poured into water. The lights above flickered as the shadows thickened, turning solid, heavy.
My feet sank.
"What—?"
The shadow wrapped around my legs, cold and viscous, dragging me down like black sludge. My body locked in place, muscles screaming as if the ground itself had grabbed me.
One of the assassins raised his hand slightly.
The darkness obeyed.
For a split second, my mind rejected it.
No.
This wasn't real.
Powers didn't exist.
That kind of thing belonged in manga and anime
Not here.
Not gripping my legs like living hands.
The shadow was cold.
Heavy.
Solid.
Panic tightened my chest as the truth forced itself in.
This isn't a trick.
This isn't illusion.
Whatever they were doing—
It was real.
People who could do things they shouldn't be able to.
My breath hitched.
So powers… actually exist.
And I was facing them with nothing but my body and a sword I didn't understand.
Another stepped forward, pressing his palm to the floor.
The shadow moved—rising, thickening, pulling at my waist, my chest.
Panic surged.
I can't move.
The shadow climbed higher, trying to swallow me whole.
Then—
Instinct took over.
I was a swimmer.
This feeling—pressure, resistance, the world tightening around my body—I knew it better than breathing.
I exhaled sharply.
Relaxed.
And surged forward.
My arms cut through the darkness the way they always had through water, muscles burning as I forced my body through the resistance instead of fighting it.
The shadow rippled.
I dove.
My hand shot out and closed around something solid.
An ankle.
"—!"
I twisted with everything I had, using my weight, my momentum, ripping the assassin off balance.
The shadow screamed—actually screamed—as its grip weakened.
I burst free, launching myself out of the darkness, dragging the assassin with me.
He hit the ground hard.
I didn't give him time to recover.
I fought like an animal—kicking, slamming, breaking.
Not technique. Not training.
Rage.
Pure, blind rage.
Survival.
My fists split. My elbows burned.
My fists found throats. My elbows found jaws. Blood—mine or theirs, I didn't know—slicked the floor beneath my feet.
Bodies fell hard against the rain-slick concrete.
Whatever they were—
They hadn't expected me to fight back.
Then—
A sound cut through everything.
A cry.
Small.
Weak.
Renya.
My heart seized so hard I thought it might stop.
I turned and ran.
Out through the emergency exit.
Into the rain.
Cold water slammed into me, washing blood down my arms, soaking my clothes, blurring my vision.
And then—
I saw her.
Jacklin stood beneath the hospital lights, slightly apart from the chaos, rain soaking into her jacket.
Renya was cradled in her arms—careful, practiced. One hand supported his head, the other pressed protectively against his back, shielding his small body from the rain.
He whimpered weakly.
Alive.
She adjusted her grip instinctively, pulling him closer to her chest when thunder rolled overhead.
It looked natural.
Too natural.
Like she'd held him before.
She waved gently.
"Here, Kaien."
Relief hit me so hard my knees almost buckled.
I staggered forward.
"Jacklin—!" My voice cracked. "Thank God… Is he—?"
"Hey," she said calmly, almost casually. "What happened?"
I reached out for Renya—
And stopped.
My hand hovered in the air.
"Jacklin…" My voice came out hoarse. "How did you know he was admitted here?"
She looked at me.
Not confused.
Not surprised.
Just calm.
"Kaien, look at you," she said lightly. "You're bleeding. You should sit down."
"Answer me," I pressed, my fingers slowly curling. "I didn't tell you. I didn't even know the hospital name until minutes ago."
She shifted Renya in her arms, adjusting her grip with practiced ease.
"People talk," she replied. "News spreads fast. You know that."
Her words slid past me.
Too smooth.
Too empty.
"Who told you?" I asked quietly.
A pause.
Not long.
But long enough.
She smiled, shaking her head. "Kaien… you're not thinking clearly."
She took a small step back—just half a step—angling her body so Renya was no longer directly in front of me.
"Just calm down," she said. "Everything's fine now."
That was when it hit me.
The way she wasn't panicking.
The way her hands were steady.
The way she kept my eyes on her instead of him.
Suddenly—
I froze.
Movement.
A shadow behind her.
An assassin stepped out of the rain, knife already raised, blade flashing as it came down toward her neck.
"JACKLIN—!"
My body moved before my mind could catch up.
I lunged forward, shoving myself between her and the blade, twisting my body to take the hit—
Too late.
Pain exploded through my back.
Cold.
Deep.
Final.
My breath tore out of me as my legs buckled.
I looked down.
A knife jutted from my chest.
Blood poured out around it, hot and unstoppable.
My hands trembled as I turned.
Jacklin stood behind me.
Her hand still gripped the handle.
"…You?" My voice broke. "Jacklin… you too?"
My knee hit the ground.
✦ CHAPTER 2 — THE BETRAYAL THAT CUT DEEPER ✦