"I can finally enjoy torturing you."
Null met his gaze. Unmoved. A faint sneer forming.
"Try as much as you like. But understand this—you're unworthy to make me feel 'pain and despair'."
Glo's grin twitched. Then widened.
"We'll see, weakling."
A low laugh escaped him.
Then—he moved.
The dagger plunged down—THUK. Straight into Null's thigh. Blood burst outward. Warm. Thick.
Glo leaned closer. He gazed intently at Null, hungry for a reaction, waiting for that scream of anguish. But to his utter disbelief, Null's expression didn't change. There were no signs of struggle, no cries of pain.
Null's expression—didn't change.
Not even slightly.
No tension. No pain. No resistance.
Just—calm. Detached. Almost… amused.
Something inside Glo snapped.
"You—" His voice trembled. "What the hell—"
Then—he lost it. Completely.
The dagger rose—and fell. Again. And again. And again.
Stabbing. Cutting. Carving. Ripping.
A frenzy. Uncontrolled. Unhinged.
Steel tore into flesh repeatedly—across arms—torso—sides—everywhere. Every thrust producing visceral, bloody impacts. Glo's frenzied actions turned manic, becoming a storm of slashes aimed at inflicting pain.
Blood soaked everything.
Two minutes. Two full minutes of relentless violence.
And still—nothing.
No scream. No struggle. No reaction.
Null remained disturbingly unfazed.
Only—that faint smile. Watching him. Observing him. Like a spectator.
Finally—Glo staggered back. Breathing heavily. Eyes wide.
"Impossible…" His voice cracked. "Impossible… impossible…!" His hands trembled. "Are you even human?!"
Glo's reactions were justifiable. If it were a human, they would at least show the slightest signs of enduring, no matter how absurd their pain tolerance might be. However, Null was acting like someone devoid of the sensation of pain. What could he be called other than inhuman?
A pause.
Then—Null spoke. Softly. Calmly.
"Human?" A faint tilt of his head. "I am one. At least, I think I am."
Glo froze. "What do you mean?"
There was something new in his eyes now. An unexplainable flicker of terror surfaced as he processed the implications. Something close to—fear.
"Like I said," Null replied. "You're incapable of making me feel 'pain and despair'."
"No, For that matter, even any 'emotions', whether negetive or positive..."
A pause.
"Because I don't naturally feel them." His voice remained steady. "In fact, my entire life… I've only been emulating emotions."
A slight shift in his gaze.
"Whether it was during my interactions with you—or my so-called teammates from before—I simply emulated what I wanted to feel in those moments."
A breath.
"Because I am always in a permanent state known as 'unemotionality'." A faint pause. "At least, according to that 'bag of bones in a white coat'."
Glo didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't interrupt.
"So, whether its pain or despair," Null continued, "I am not capable of feeling them 'now'… because I chose not to emulate the 'negetive emotions' you seek from my suffering."
Silence. Heavy. Oppressive. Each word sinking deeper. Twisting. Disturbing.
"Normally," Null added, "I wouldn't stop emulating emotions. Even pain or despair. To remain… as humane as possible."
A pause.
"But you…" His gaze locked onto Glo. Cold. Deliberate. "Since you're a lunatic who indulges in violent activities." Another pause. "So I decided—to deprive you of that satisfaction by pausing the emulation of pain, despair and other negative emotions."
A faint smile. Subtle. But real.
Glo's body stiffened. That look—that calm—that detachment—it felt wrong. Deeply wrong.
"Oh," Null added lightly, "one more thing."
A slight tilt of his head.
"This doesn't mean I can't feel true emotions." A pause. "I've been indulging in them quite a lot recently."
A faint, almost distant look.
"Hehe. Thanks to a certain new girlfriend of mine." Another pause. "And before that—a certain yandere." A small shrug. "But that's a mystery for another time."
Silence.
Glo didn't laugh. Didn't move. Didn't speak.
Glo stood in silence, both in disbelief that someone like Null could even exist and overwhelmed by a hidden terror that surpassed even his own insanely violent nature. Wrong and unknown.
Null watched Glo's hidden terror with relish.
"That's why," Null concluded quietly, "there's no point dragging this." A breath. "You should just kill me and be done with it, half-baked assassin."
The realization snaked through Glo's mind like a whip, coiling tight with inexplicable horror. "You… you monster!"
"Tch…" Glo clenched his teeth. He looked away briefly. "I should've dealt with the task of hunting down your friends instead of having to clean out an inhuman devil like you."
Null's lips curved faintly. "Your loss."
"Still, I have to say." His eyes held a strange glint. "You and your partner… are interesting characters." A faint tilt. "If possible… I wouldn't mind playing with you again in the future."
"As if," Glo snapped back instantly. "Like I'd ever let you live." His grip tightened around his dagger. "I admit your inhuman nature." A pause. "But that doesn't mean I won't kill you." His voice hardened. "After all—you were our real target of assassination." A breath. "Tch… Even if this ends up being the most unsatisfying kill of my life."
Null coughed. Blood spilling again. "Cough… cough…" The turbulent rasp of his breath barely concealed the smirk of amusement on his lips.
"Be my guest."
---
※
---
Nubrus moved.
Fast. Faster than before. His body cutting through the woodland like a silent blade.
Branches didn't rustle. Leaves didn't stir. Even the air seemed unwilling to acknowledge his presence.
»Erased Presence« maintained. Maximum output. Every ounce of his agility pushed to its limit.
His thoughts—sharp. Focused. Relentless.
Intercept them.
That was all that mattered now. Because if they reached the main road—everything would fall apart.
The first consequence—immediate. Absolute.
Ronan and the others were not just survivors. They were witnesses. Witnesses to an assassination attempt. An assassination attempt on a member of the Divine Sanctum.
If they survived—if they spoke—if even fragments of the truth spread—then the name Obsidian Veil would no longer remain buried in silence.
And that—was unacceptable.
Their organization existed on one principle code: Leave no trace.
Not a body. Not a witness. Not even a whisper.
That was why they were feared. That was why they were called the greatest. The deadliest.
There was a saying: If you became a target of the Obsidian Veil… then you could only wait for your end. Because when they came—nothing remained. Not even a corpse for mourning.
This was their pride. Their perfection.
…And yet—right now—that perfection was slipping.
The second consequence—even worse.
If the team reached the main road—then interception would become impossible.
The road was alive. Crowded. Unpredictable. Caravans. Travelers. Merchants. Guards. Witnesses everywhere. Too many variables. Too many eyes. Too many risks.
Even Nubrus—could not kill under those conditions. Not cleanly. Not without exposure. Not without turning a silent assassination into a public incident.
And once it became an incident—it was no longer an assassination. It was evidence.
…Which meant—failure was already forming.
He had to finish them before that point. Had to.
But—reality remained cold. Unforgiving.
They had been delayed.
Four minutes. Created by a single anomaly. Their target.
A mere four minutes—yet more than enough. More than enough for desperate individuals to escape the woodland and reach open terrain.
A bad feeling lingered.
Nubrus already knew. The outcome. Cold reasoning left no room for hope.
The thought persisted—but he didn't stop. Because confirmation mattered. Because stopping before seeing it—was not something he allowed himself.
Besides, this wasn't just a mission. This was a trial.
Their first real assassination with stakes that mattered.
For Nubrus and Glo—killing the target was only the basic requirement. The surface condition. The true test—was something else entirely.
To erase all evidence. To leave nothing behind. To execute a perfect kill—against a target tied to a central superpower like the Divine Sanctum.
A trial by fire. A step toward becoming true assassins.
And right now—that step was faltering.
…Still—he couldn't stop. Not without trying. Not without confirming it himself.
---
Moments later—he reached the boundary.
The edge of the woodland.
He didn't step out immediately. Instead—he ascended.
A tall tree. Silent. Hidden. Observing from above.
Below—the main road stretched wide. Busy. Alive.
Caravans passed. Voices carried. Footsteps overlapped endlessly. Movement without pattern.
Nubrus' eyes scanned once. Then again. Then a third time.
Precise. Unyielding. Searching for even the slightest trace—of them.
…Nothing.
Not a silhouette. Not a presence. No sign of them.
They were gone. Blended into the world beyond his observation.
A quiet breath left him.
"So it's confirmed." His gaze lowered slightly. "We failed."
The words held no emotion. Only conclusion.
The true clear condition—broken. Irreversible.
For a brief moment—a thought surfaced. Sharp. Unpleasant.
…Glo.
If he hadn't wasted time—if he hadn't indulged—if he had acted efficiently—then maybe—just maybe—they might have succeeded.
But the thought didn't linger.
Because another followed immediately. Colder. More honest.
…My fault as well.
He had allowed it. He had known Glo's nature. Known his tendencies. And yet—he chose to adapt around it. Instead of correcting it. Instead of acting decisively.
Cold rationality meant nothing—if it didn't dictate action.
And in that moment—he hadn't acted as a true assassin. He had failed as well.
A faint narrowing of his eyes. His master's expectation surfaced briefly.
Then—the inevitable conclusion.
…Disappointment.
"Tch." A quiet exhale. Not frustration—not regret—just acknowledgment.
"What's done is done." A pause. "At least the basic condition is complete."
The target—would be dead. Glo would ensure that. That much—he trusted.
"We leave." His tone settled. Final. "Before the Justice Regulators arrive."
Because once the incident spread—it wouldn't take long. Authorities would move. Investigations would begin. And staying longer—would only deepen their failure.
Nubrus turned. His form slipping back into motion. Returning. Silent. Controlled.
---
Moments later—he arrived.
The clearing. The aftermath.
He deactivated his stealth.
And stepped forward.
His gaze landed—on the body.
Null.
A dagger pierced through his chest. Straight into the heart. Blood still dripping slowly.
His body—unrecognizable. Mutilated. Beyond repair.
Even Nubrus—paused.
Just slightly. Not from shock. But from assessment.
…Excessive.
He had seen Glo's work countless times. Cruel. Brutal. Unrestrained. But this time, even for him, this was a bit more extreme than usual.
"You were that irritated." A quiet observation.
Glo stood nearby. Breathing slower now. But his expression—still sour. Still dissatisfied.
Nubrus spoke. "We failed the trial's true clear condition."
Glo clicked his tongue. "I see. Tch." His tone carried annoyance—not surprise.
Nubrus studied him briefly. "Did something happen?" A pause. "You seem… unusually displeased."
Glo's expression darkened immediately. "Didn't I say not to order me around?" A sharp glare.
But Nubrus didn't react. Didn't shift. Didn't argue. He simply looked at him. Waiting. Silent. Unmoved.
"Tch." Glo looked away. Then spoke anyway. "I just had the worst kill of my life." A pause. "Of course I'm in a bad mood."
His jaw tightened. "I never thought I'd run into someone like this… A monstrosity beyond comprehension."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "Damn it… I should've never accepted this mission."
Nubrus said nothing. But his eyes shifted—back to the corpse. Unreadable.
…A monstrosity?
For Glo to say that—there was something more. Something he didn't witness. Something he didn't understand. Something… wrong.
But—it didn't matter anymore.
The target was dead. That was the only thing that mattered now.
Nubrus shook the thought away. Refocused.
He glanced at Glo. Glo met his gaze. A silent exchange.
Understood.
"Let's finish and proceed."
Nubrus stepped forward. Reaching into his cloak. He pulled out a small container. No larger than a potion bottle.
Inside—a tiny spark flickered. Dark violet. Alive. Dancing.
»Obsidian Cinder«
A unique tool. A signature of the Obsidian Veil. Designed for one purpose—complete evidence erasure.
He uncorked the container. Tilted it slightly. The spark slipped free. Falling—gently—silently—onto Null's body.
For a brief moment—stillness.
Then—the spark ignited.
Dark violet flames spread outward. Soundless. Lightless. Hungry. Consuming.
"Target assassination complete." Nubrus spoke calmly. "Let's go."
Glo nodded once. No hesitation.
Both of them moved—their presence fading once more. Vanishing into stealth. Disappearing into the forest.
---
Behind them—the flame continued.
But it made no sound. Gave no light.
A silent blaze. An unseen inferno.
It spread across the clearing. Engulfing everything. Bodies. Blood. Weapons. Mana residue. Even lingering mana signatures—erased. Reduced to nothing. To cinders beyond existence.
Then—just as suddenly—it disappeared.
Gone. As if it had never been there.
The clearing remained. Pristine. Untouched.
No scorch marks. No damage. No trace. No evidence.
As if nothing had ever happened.
As if no one had ever died there.
---
※