— Paper Figure Assassin —
BEEEP—! BEEEP—!
The piercing alarm shredded the midnight silence of the prison.
Heavily armed guards stormed down the corridor—
and froze.
At the base of the outer wall stood something that shouldn't exist.
A paper figure, half a meter tall, motionless under the harsh light.
Its face was drawn in twisted crimson ink, a knife of the same cursed paper gripped in its thin hand.
A faint, unnatural aura rippled from it—something that made every instinct scream wrong.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
Before the echo faded, the paper figure moved.
It blurred forward with impossible speed—
its blade slicing a cold white arc through the dark—
and a guard's throat burst open, blood splattering across the wall.
"Open fire! OPEN FIRE!"
Gunfire erupted.
Muzzle flashes strobed the corridor.
Bullets shredded the air—but the paper man twisted through them like smoke, full of holes yet never slowing.
The knife danced again.
Choked screams followed—then silence.
The figure turned, its crimson mouth curving into a grotesque smile.
And then—another presence.
A young man stood at the corridor's end, calm amid the carnage, eyes sharp as lightning.
"A paper medium—remotely controlled?"Eren's tone was almost casual. "Not bad craftsmanship."
The paper assassin's inked face twisted into rapture, as if it had found its chosen prey.
With a violent swish, it vanished.
A blade flashed for Eren's throat.
Eren didn't move.
A cold smirk curved his lips.
His hand snapped up—thunder-quick—closing around the paper figure's neck.
The thing writhed soundlessly, struggling against a grip that might as well have been iron.
"Not bad strength," Eren murmured, brow arching. "But this should do."
Pfft!
The crushed ball twitched—then unfolded midair, knife gleaming again.
"Persistent little pest."
Eren clapped his palms together.
Spirit fire burst forth.
A shriekless cry tore the air as white flame devoured it, turning the assassin to drifting ash.
— The Paper Killer Revealed —
Boots hammered the earth as Kane and his squad burst onto the scene. The air reeked of blood and char. Scorched paper scraps drifted like black snow.
Kane's face turned pale. "Mr. Eren! What the hell happened here?"
Eren met his eyes, calm as still water.
"What if I told you," he said, "they were killed by paper?"
---
Far beyond the prison walls, the forest swayed in a silver tide of moonlight.
On an ancient oak, a gaunt figure hunched low, coughing up black blood.
"You bastard..." His voice cracked into a snarl. "You destroyed my work!"
The man looked mummified—skin clinging to bone, lips charred, eyes sunken and fever-bright.
The shadow net called him The Paper Killer—a craftsman of living talismans, a murderer who made ink and bark obey his will.
He spat again, dark and thick. Losing a paper servant to fire felt like being flayed alive.
"Fine," he rasped. "Let's see you handle two."
His withered fingers danced through the air. Two figures rising silently like pale ghosts.
"Go," he hissed. "Tear him apart."
A voice answered from below, low and cold:
"You should worry about yourself first."
The Paper Killer froze. His eyes snapped down—Eren stood beneath the tree, gaze cutting through the shadows like a blade.
"You—!" the killer spat, rage overtaking fear. "Perfect. You came to die!"
The two paper assassins blurred into motion, slicing through the night. Their knives glinted, their bodies fluttering with eerie grace as they flanked Eren from both sides.
Kane and his men watched from the distance, barely daring to breathe. "They're... really paper?" one whispered.
"And they kill?"
A faint smile touched Eren's lips.
Then—power.
Eren's hands blurred. Fingers snapped out like lightning—two sharp pinches at their necks.
Spirit fire ignited.
Fwoosh!
White-hot flames devoured the figures. In seconds, the assassins were gone—reduced to drifting ash.
The Paper Killer convulsed, vomiting black blood. His aura shattered; he staggered, trembling, voice cracked."What... what fire is that?! How can it—burn my paper?!"
Eren's gaze stayed cold. "I don't speak to men already dead inside."
He raised his hand. One motion—clean.
CRACK!
The oak branch split beneath the killer.
AAAGH—!
He hit the ground hard. Before he could move, Eren's boot pressed into his chest.
"Talk," Eren said, voice like frost. "Who sent you?"
"I—I work through the shadow net! No names, no faces! Contract worth fifty million!"
"Fifty million," Eren repeated softly.
Then a single ember flared between his fingers.
The Paper Killer vanished into ash.
---
Kane and his men approached, weapons still trembling in their hands.
"Serves him right," Kane muttered. "That monster—"
"Don't."
Eren's voice cut through like steel. He turned away. "He came for me. Those men died because of that."
Kane's jaw set. "You ended it. You saved the rest."
Eren didn't reply. His gaze drifted to the ashes scattered on the wind.
Somewhere beyond the treeline, a terminal blinked, a new contract waiting on the dark web.
"Trace it," he said finally. "Find who posted the bounty. Cut the head—and the shadows will scatter."
Kane nodded grimly.
But as the wind whispered through the forest, carrying flecks of burned paper into the dark, he couldn't shake one thought:
This wasn't the end.
It was only the first page of a hunt.
---
— A Visit of Heartbreak —
Early the next morning, heavy footsteps echoed outside Eren's cell.
A guard halted by the door, his tone grave.
"Eren. You've got a visitor."
Eren's eyes opened, a faint glint of surprise flickering within.
A visitor? At this point, who would possibly come to see him?
But the moment he entered the visitation room and his gaze passed through the partition glass—
his pulse spiked.
Three women stood beyond the window.
Seraphine Lark, the lover who had once been his whole world...
and who had shattered it to pieces.
Beside her stood her cheerful best friend, Clara Evans, and at her flank, a poised, elegant woman in her fifties—Vivienne Lark, Seraphine's mother.
Eren's eyes turned cold as frost.
"What are you doing here? Checking to see if I'm still breathing?"
Seraphine's gaze met his. Emotions stormed in her eyes—guilt, sorrow, pain—before they froze into something lifeless. Her voice came out calm, sharp, final:
"That's right. I came to see if you were dead. I never thought you could be such a monster, Eren. I must've been blind to ever love you. Now, I'm just grateful it ended."
Clara's eyes widened in disbelief. "Seraphine..." she whispered.
Eren's chest tightened—an invisible hand twisting his heart.
He'd imagined betrayal, but not cruelty like this.
"Seraphine Lark," he said slowly, voice trembling between fury and heartbreak,
"the blind one wasn't you—it was me. I wasted three years on you. But mark this—everything I've lost, I'll reclaim a hundredfold."
His eyes hardened, sharp enough to cut.
Vivienne sneered, her tone thick with venom.
"How dare you talk big, you worthless criminal? You're a death-row inmate—what could you possibly do to us?
All of this," she gestured around with icy pride, "was arranged by my future son-in-law, Damien Vale.
Compared to him, you're nothing but dust."
Eren's gaze flickered, a blade of realization cutting through his mind.
So it was him. The assassins, the bounty—all of it tied back to that name.
Damien Vale... enjoy your throne while you can.
His stare swept coldly over Vivienne, then lingered on Seraphine one last time—
a long, silent look that burned through the glass like fire through paper.
Then he turned and walked out, never once looking back.
The thread of their past was severed completely.
All that remained—was vengeance.
Behind the glass, Vivienne folded her arms.
"See, daughter? Trash like that isn't worth a glance. Consider this your last goodbye.
Forget him, and prepare to marry into the Vale family. That's your future."
But Seraphine didn't answer.
Her face had gone pale, her eyes empty, her steps slow and distant.
She turned and walked away as if sleepwalking.
Clara caught her hand, her voice trembling.
"Seraphine... why didn't you tell him the truth?"
Seraphine's lashes quivered. A faint, sorrowful smile curved her lips.
"What good would it do? If he knew... it would only hurt him more.
The more he hates me, the less he'll grieve."
Clara's throat tightened. "What a cruel twist of fate. You two were perfect for each other..."
But she knew—against the power of the Vale family, love was powerless.
Seraphine's voice dropped to a whisper, trembling but resolute.
"I'll beg Damien to spare him. If he refuses..."
Her eyes glinted with desperate resolve.
"...then I'll follow Eren into death—as his wife."
---
The cell door slammed shut behind Eren.
He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, forcing his mind to steady.
Pain was fuel. Rage was focus.
He needed power—fast.
Only strength could clear his name, avenge the dead, and make Damien Vale crawl.
But the prison's stale, sickly air no longer sufficed.
The ambient resentment was too thin for cultivation.
He needed Spirit Stones—crystallized energy from heaven and earth—to advance.
Yet where could he find them?
Just as that thought surfaced, his phone buzzed.
He answered—and Darius's voice crackled through, breathless with excitement.
" Overlord! I found the owner of license plate NA68688.
And I've identified the man behind the hit on Miss Lyra!"
Eren's eyes snapped open, sharp as blades.
"Who is it?" he demanded. Then, after a pause:
"No—forget it. I'll come to you. We'll talk face to face."