Chapter 1: Blood Under the Moon
The night smelled of iron and wet soil. Cold mist crawled between the trees as the assassin knelt on one knee, his breath shallow, his pulse beating loud in his ears. Blood soaked through the black cloth at his side, warm at first, then chilling against his skin. Above him, the moon hung pale and indifferent, watching as it always did.
This mission was wrong.
It had been labeled routine. Eliminate a rogue cultivator hiding near the border forest. No backup required. No complications expected. He had followed orders without question, as he had done since childhood. Obedience was survival. Doubt was death.
Yet the moment he entered the clearing, the killing intent had not come from ahead, but from behind.
Steel pierced flesh. Not his target's blade, but one forged by hands he knew too well.
He staggered forward now, forcing himself upright, fingers digging into the bark of an old pine. His vision blurred, but his mind remained frighteningly clear. Three ambushers. Formation perfect. Silent. Professional.
Assassins.
His assassins.
"So it's true," a voice said from the shadows, calm and familiar. "You noticed too late."
The assassin turned slowly. Figures emerged, faces half-hidden, eyes cold. He recognized every stance, every breathing rhythm. These were brothers who had trained beside him, eaten with him, bled with him.
"You sold me out," he said. His voice did not shake.
The man in front stepped closer. "Don't misunderstand. The organization sold you. We're just executing the order."
"For what?" he asked.
"Your existence became inconvenient."
A blade flashed. He barely twisted aside, but the wound reopened, pain flaring white-hot. He countered instinctively, dagger slicing through air, forcing distance. His body moved on training alone, even as strength drained from his limbs.
He counted heartbeats. Movement. Angles. Escape routes.
There were none.
Another strike came. He blocked too slow. Metal rang. His dagger flew from his hand, disappearing into the undergrowth. A kick slammed into his chest, hurling him backward. He hit the ground hard, lungs emptying, stars exploding behind his eyes.
The moonlight revealed the symbol stitched into their sleeves. The same one burned into his own flesh since childhood.
Raised as a blade. Discarded like one.
"Any last words?" the leader asked, lifting his sword.
The assassin laughed softly. Blood bubbled at his lips. "You should've made sure I was dead."
The sword descended.
Pain vanished.
For a single heartbeat, there was only darkness.
Then sound returned, sharp and unnatural.
[Critical condition detected.]
[Vital signs unstable.]
[Host compatibility confirmed.]
The assassin's eyes snapped open.
Blue light burned across his vision, symbols floating where the forest should be. His body screamed in agony, yet something cold and precise wrapped around his mind, suppressing panic.
[Legend System initializing.]
[Synchronization complete.]
"What…?" His lips barely moved.
The attackers froze.
"What trick is this?" one hissed.
The assassin's wounds burned as if fire had been poured into them. Muscles convulsed. Bones screamed. He bit down hard, refusing to cry out.
[Emergency directive issued.]
[Mission: Survive.]
[Failure consequence: Death.]
A new sensation flooded him. Not strength, but clarity. His perception sharpened, time seeming to slow as the system mapped his body, his injuries, his surroundings.
[Temporary enhancement granted.]
[Duration: 30 seconds.]
"Kill him!" the leader shouted.
They moved together.
The assassin rolled as a blade struck where his head had been. He snatched a fallen sword mid-motion, his body responding faster than thought. He rose, slashing upward. Blood sprayed as steel met flesh.
One down.
Shock rippled through the others.
He didn't give them time to recover. He stepped into the second man's guard, ignoring the pain as a blade bit into his shoulder. His sword thrust straight through the man's throat.
Two.
The third turned to flee.
The assassin hurled his sword.
It struck true.
Silence fell.
The blue light faded. Strength drained from his limbs like water from broken glass. He collapsed to his knees, then forward into the dirt, gasping.
[Emergency directive complete.]
[Host survived.]
Laughter bubbled up, half-hysterical, half-broken. He was alive. Betrayed. Bleeding. But alive.
The system's presence lingered, cold and watching.
[New mission available.]
[Cultivate or perish.]
The assassin stared at the moon through blurred vision. Memories surfaced unbidden. His mother's face, tired but gentle, pushing him toward the organization gates years ago. Promises of safety. Of purpose.
All lies.
His fingers clenched in the soil.
"I'll live," he whispered. "No matter who stands in my way."
The forest wind carried his words into the night as blood soaked deeper into the earth, and somewhere beyond the moonlight, a legend began to breathe.