A damp, nauseating stench filled the narrow alley, the smell of rot and festering decay lingering like a physical curse. Ragged, hollow silhouettes of the homeless lay huddled together against the biting night cold, their breathing shallow and uneven—fragile, broken remnants of life desperately clinging to the shadows.
Leornars strode through the alleyway, each heavy step echoing off the damp stone walls like a final verdict. His sharp gaze swept across the human wreckage before him, a sneer of utter disgust carved into his young face.
"The great human race," he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. "So proud. So arrogant. Yet here they are—sleeping in their own filth, while the very species they subjugate and enslave live in proper homes. Absolutely pathetic."
His foot came to a sudden halt.
A frail, trembling hand had reached out from the rags, brushing against the leather of his polished boot.
Crimson light surged dangerously in his eyes.
"You dare touch me?" he whispered.
In a blur of motion, Leornars gripped the starving man by the throat, hoisting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing at all. The man gasped, his legs kicking weakly in the freezing air.
"The very air you breathe is by my merciful allowance," Leornars hissed into his face.
With a callous flick of his wrist, he hurled the man backward—*thud!*—slamming his spine hard against the brick wall.
"You aren't a race," Leornars spat, adjusting his cloak. "You're a disease."
He turned to leave—
—and froze mid-step.
The air behind him twisted unnaturally.
A suffocating, lethal presence materialized out of thin air.
A dark smirk echoed from the shadows of the alley. "My, my. What a big mouth for a stray kid."
"If you're human," Leornars growled, his mana flaring defensively as he turned, "I won't hold back a single strike."
The figure stepped out from the darkness, two iron chains humming with energy wrapped around his arms. "Try me."
And then it began.
A blur of motion.
A deafening crash.
A spray of blood.
The narrow alley shattered as their bodies collided like two falling meteorites. A jagged blade scraped past Leornars's neck, drawing a deep crimson line. He retaliated instantly with a dense blast of kinetic force, sending the assassin tumbling backward through a solid stone wall.
But the assassin was fast—inhumanly, impossibly fast.
"**Chainbreaker: The Eternal Chains of Solitude!**"
Black, runic chains erupted violently from the cobblestones beneath Leornars's feet, coiling around his limbs and locking his movement mid-charge.
He roared, thrashing against the bindings with all his strength.
The chains tightened, biting deep into his flesh.
"Burn—!" he screamed, white lightning surging frantically across his skin. Arcs of raw electricity lit up the dark alley, but the divine chains refused to melt. Another heavy chain-fist slammed directly into his chest, launching him backward through the air.
He crashed through layers of stone and iron fencing, blood pouring freely down his arm. His chest heaved. His breathing slowed. His vision began to blur at the edges.
*Why... why am I slowing down...?*
The assassin advanced casually through the dust. "They say you're the prophesied White Plague. The monster of destruction. I see only a rabid dog that needs a shorter leash."
Leornars roared and lunged again, ignoring the agony tearing through his body.
Another trap.
The chains coiled like striking vipers, hauling him down to the ground—again, and again. His ribs cracked under the pressure. His right shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop. Weak sparks of electricity flickered feebly from his broken fingers.
And for the very first time in his battle-hardened life...
He hesitated.
His feet faltered beneath him.
"**I AM NOT LOSING TO SOME WEAK PERSON LIKE YOU!**" Leornars screamed at the top of his lungs.
His aura flickered violently. Life-ki began leaking from his pores—not mana, but the raw, unrefined essence of his very soul.
A cruel, victorious smile played across the assassin's face.
"That's it. Break for me."
Leornars lunged forward with a desperate burst of speed, his bare hand clamping onto the assassin's neck, smashing him violently into the dirt. He leapt up to drive his heel down, only for his foot to get tangled in a trailing chain, yanking him mid-air and throwing him hard onto his face.
He pushed himself up off the ground, blood streaming from his left eye, but his fingers still gripped a heavy wooden branch off the floor.
"You are dead..." Leornars added, his tone dropping into a hollow, deadly hiss.
He took a single, agonizing step forward.
> **[System Error: Critical mana depletion... operation failed... shutting down system...]**
>
The cheerful, melodious voice echoed faintly in his mind.
"I'm not done yet..." Leornars hissed, his knees buckling as he finally collapsed face-first onto the cold stones.
The assassin walked up to his limp body, smirking as he began loosely bandaging a gash on his own arm.
"That was surprisingly challenging," the assassin said calmly. "I don't know what just happened to your energy, but oh well... a win is a win."
Suddenly—
A blinding flash of white light illuminated the alleyway.
The assassin stiffened, every drop of blood in his veins turning to absolute ice.
A pale, delicate hand wrapped around his face from behind.
*CRACK—!*
The assassin vanished—hurled through four solid stone buildings before his brain could even register the momentum of the strike.
Silence descended upon the ruined alley.
Only the quiet, rhythmic sound of light heels tapping against the shattered ground broke the stillness.
She walked out from the dust—Stacian.
White-haired. Utterly calm. Not a single drop of blood ruined her pristine clothes. Her terrifying presence turned the surrounding air bone-chillingly cold.
She looked down at Leornars—bloodied, trembling, and barely clinging to the edge of consciousness.
"Huh? You ran completely out of mana, yet you still forced yourself to fight?" she whispered softly. "Burning through your own life-ki this early in the game? What on earth are you trying to prove?"
She knelt down gently, brushed a speck of dust from his bloody cheek, and effortlessly slung his bruised body onto her back like a feather.
*CLANG—!*
A dozen black chains snapped forward from the rubble, aiming straight for her heart.
Stacian's fingers twitched with mild annoyance.
The chains stopped dead in mid-air—then violently reversed their trajectory, whipping backward like scolded beasts to crush the ruins behind them.
Only one chain remained intact.
It lunged straight for her exposed throat.
She caught the divine iron cleanly between two fingers.
The assassin landed on top of a broken wall, panting heavily, blood dripping from his nose. With a dark grin, he sent a surge of golden divine fire down the length of the chain, binding her wrist.
"Got you," he rasped darkly.
"...Got who?"
She gave the chain a lazy, casual yank.
The assassin was launched through the air toward her—
—straight into her rising knee.
*CRUNCH—!*
His spine bent at an impossible angle.
*CRASH!*
He crashed onto the dirt, completely motionless.
"How... how did she control my divine chains?" he gasped through a mouthful of blood, staring up at her in horror. "These... these were gifts from the gods—"
"You're asking the entirely wrong question," she said, her voice as calm and absolute as death itself. "You should be asking: how did I allow a pest like you to live this long?"
His remaining chains shot out in a desperate frenzy—ten, twenty, thirty distinct iron links. They completely surrounded her in a sphere, glowing bright with divine killing glyphs.
She let out a soft exhale.
A massive, silent wave of absolute nullification exploded outward from her body.
The divine glyphs disintegrated into dust.
The indestructible chains rusted and crumbled into ash mid-air.
And Zaryter... began to panic.
He stumbled back, coughing violently as dark blood poured from his punctured lungs.
"Who... what are you?!"
She didn't bother answering.
She turned her back on him, adjusting Leornars securely across her shoulders.
"I'm tired of this pointless chatter."
"You're just going to walk away?!" Zaryter screamed behind her, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'M NOT DONE YET!"
She stopped in her tracks.
Glanced back over her shoulder with empty eyes.
"No," she said softly. "You are."
And then—
Every single bone in his body snapped simultaneously.
The solid stone ground beneath him cratered inward, forming the exact shape of a black lotus blooming in the dirt.
He stopped moving entirely.
*Zaryter Daternmum — The Past*
*Fire. Smoke. Blood-curdling screams.*
*His family home... burning to the ground.*
*His little sister—barely breathing beneath the timber.*
*They wandered the human lands for years, starving, hated, and spat upon.*
*The humans never offered help.*
*The arrogant nobles spat on them whenever they begged for bread.*
*And when the underground syndicate known as the Black Acers offered them salvation, he accepted without a second thought.*
*They gave him food. Unimaginable power.*
*A promise of a cure for his sister's rot.*
*And a single name—the white-haired curse who allegedly destroyed his ancestral home.*
*Back in the Shadows*
Inside a pitch-black, hidden chamber deep within the capital...
Several cloaked figures sat around a stone table.
"Zaryter, our little dragon," one chuckled, a mocking smirk on his face. "Where is the white-haired kid's corpse?"
"...He escaped," Zaryter rasped from the dark corner, leaning heavily against the wall.
"You got soft," another assassin mocked, tossing a dagger into the wooden table.
"If I had gotten serious, this entire city would be reduced to dust," Zaryter growled, his fists clenching tightly.
The lead figure leaned forward, his voice dripping with absolute poison.
"Don't forget your place, Zaryter... your precious little sister still needs her monthly medicine."
Zaryter's knuckles turned white.
"I know. One last job. Then I am done with all of you."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the dark room.
Behind his back, quiet whispers stirred among the syndicate members.
"Are we really going to cure his sister once he finishes the hit?"
The boss let out a low, dark chuckle.
"We don't possess a Holy Demon's blood. We never did. Once he finishes taking down our targets... we dispose of him and the girl together."