Night fell, and countless stars filled the sky in the deep, dark forest. The sound of metal clashing echoed through the trees, carried by a cold breeze. Blood stained the ground near a self-made camp, where flickering firewood barely lit the scene. Bodies lay scattered—fully armored corpses with blood dripping onto the soil. There was not just one corpse, but many. It looked as if a monster had attacked them, yet in the distance, the sound of metal clashing continued.
Sparks flew as blades collided in the darkness. Only the blades were visible—along with a man wearing armor, a silver cape, and a cross pattern engraved on his chest. He looked like a knight from the Holy Roman Empire. Exhausted and drenched in sweat, he looked like someone who had barely survived a brutal fight.
"Agh… Agh… hugh…"
He grasped for air, wiping the sweat from his face.
"You dogs from the Eastern Assassins! You won't get anything from me!"
The knight stood furious, facing the darkness where only the blade of his enemy could be seen—a short dagger dripping blood onto the ground. Instead of silver, it was completely red from blood.
Moonlight revealed the appearance of a man wearing a dark hood, his mouth and nose covered by a scarf. Only his eyes were visible beneath the hood.
An assassin from the East.
In the midst of this, the knight steadied himself—lowering his stance, bending his knees, and gripping his weapon with killing intent.
"I never knew there was such a powerful assassin in the Eastern country. I shouldn't have taken this job just for a piece of honor,"
he whispered as he prepared for defense, lifting his shield that had been torn apart in battle.
"You! Insect! You will never get information from me—even if I die!"
The knight shouted furiously, but the hooded man remained silent. The assassin bent his knees and dashed forward, two daggers in his hands.
The knight launched his sword toward the approaching assassin. Confident, he believed he had already adapted to the assassin's attack pattern. Instead of defending, he risked everything by attacking head-on.
"I've adapted to your pattern, assassin! I'm not like those knights who gained their title through status alone!"
He tightened his grip and slashed horizontally.
"I trained my whole life for this, and now I've finally found a worthy opponent!"
Filled with confidence, he failed to notice that the assassin had already laid multiple plans in motion. As the assassin dashed forward, he dropped one of his daggers onto the ground. The knight noticed it, but did not let himself be distracted—fighting an assassin while distracted was like committing suicide.
"Tch! Your cheap trick won't work on me!"
Their blades collided.
"Argh! You think you can kill me with this petty trick!?"
Their weapons locked due to equal strength, and the knight grew cocky.
"Heh… dropping a dagger while charging me to lower my guard!? You're just an ordinary assassin!"
As the clash continued, the assassin remained calm. The knight grew curious. His gaze shifted toward the dropped dagger, and he noticed a rope that had been cut. Realizing the plan, he kicked the assassin in the abdomen and jumped backward. The assassin was sent flying.
A large pile of wooden debris embedded with sharp blades collapsed where they had just stood. The knight had anticipated this—Eastern assassins were known for such traps. But as the knight let his guard down, the assassin threw something toward him.
"Heh! I know that's a poison dart! A scheme like that won't work on me twice!"
Confidently, the knight raised his shield—but lost sight of the assassin. He remembered too late that losing sight of an assassin was the same as suicide.
A voice suddenly whispered behind him.
"I wouldn't need you to talk… because I already know everything."
Three days later, in the Holy Roman Empire, crowds gathered inside a church, praying as a priest preached before them.
"We will not let our people go hungry! And we will not allow disease to spread among them!"
As the priest delivered his passionate speech, a knight approached and whispered information to him. The priest grew irritated at the interruption.
"You dare disturb me during my sermon—"
Sweat rolled down the knight's face as the Cardinal's anger flared.
"There is a knight waiting for you. He is a prideful one, but we have not allowed him inside."
The Cardinal's mood shifted. He knew exactly who that knight was. He summoned the nuns and ordered the mass to end. The people slowly exited the church, and the doors were closed by the guards.
Once the crowd had dispersed and the doors reopened, a shadow entered. It was a holy knight—the same one who had fought the assassin. His hood concealed his face as he reported what had happened. He knelt before the Cardinal, who was praying before a statue, already aware of his presence.
"Cardinal, I have returned from my mission to report news."
The Cardinal continued praying, ignoring him.
"Roman, the prideful knight… it seems your voice has changed. Traveling through the Eastern country must have been difficult."
Roman remained silent. His body trembled, and his voice shook. The Cardinal noticed and finally turned his gaze toward him.
"Sir, the collection money from the East was ambushed by an assassin!"
The Cardinal's gentle expression turned furious. He grabbed a metal candleholder and hurled it at Roman.
"Do you know how much effort I poured into acquiring that money!?"
Roman accepted the punishment silently. With trembling knees, he forced himself to stand.
"B-but I captured the assassin… a-and our holy knights have him in custody!"
The Cardinal was still unsatisfied.
"Where did that assassin come from!? And how did they know we have influence in the Eastern country!? And where is the money!?"
Roman stepped closer, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded paper.
"He is an assassin from the Nizari Clan… and he came here to take your life."
The Cardinal scoffed confidently—until Roman came closer. The hood still hid his face, backlit by sunlight. Slowly, Roman removed his hood.
The Cardinal's face turned pale, sweat dripping.
"He is taking your life right now, Cardinal Dariusie."
The Cardinal tried to flee, but a sharp sting pierced his neck. He collapsed silently. Still conscious, he saw the assassin's feet approach.
The assassin knelt beside him, daggers in hand.
"You cannot scream or move. The dart contained a paralytic drug—you cannot even speak."
Blood splashed across the floor as the assassin pierced the Cardinal's body. Alarms rang outside the church. The doors began to open, voices echoing from beyond.
The assassin sensed it and fled, his true appearance briefly revealed within the church.
As the church erupted into chaos, the assassin reached another door—one he had scouted earlier, where no knights or people were present. He opened it cautiously, and sunlight flashed in his eyes.
"Hashashin of the Nizari Clan… You won't escape from us. You are cornered now!"
A knight stood there, silver armor gleaming, a cross engraved on his chest. His sword was plunged into the ground, shield resting on his back, every muscle taut and ready to strike. He didn't move or speak further, but Armon could feel the danger radiating from him.
Armon stayed calm—or at least he tried. His mind raced, calculating escape routes, traps, and timing. Then the knight smirked.
"Or should I say… Armon of the Nizari Clan?"
The name hit him like a dagger. He froze. His calm facade cracked, and his throat went dry.
"How… did you know my real name?"
Suddenly, the knight lifted his sword from the ground, pointing it directly at Armon.
"I will tell you everything… if you duel with me."
Nervous but calculating, Armon asked, "What is your name, then?"
The knight smirked at him.
"Knowing my name won't benefit you… but you will die either way. My name is Franz von Heinrich."
The name struck Armon like a hammer. After hearing it, his chance of escape vanished. He had no choice but to accept the duel. Armon moved toward Franz, and the knight positioned himself strategically, surrounded by walls, with a crossbow aimed at Armon.
"So… Armon, are you ready to die?"
Armon maintained his stance, analyzing Franz for weaknesses. He searched for openings, as he always did when fighting knights—but this time…
"No… openings."
Franz's posture was a counter to an assassin: a longsword with a shield on his back, a dagger at his side, a bow on his back, a short blade at his feet, another sword on his side, and a quiver full of arrows.
"This guy is equipped with everything… he starts with the longsword first… maybe I can exploit his habits."
Armon unsheathed a dagger and pulled a poisoned dart from his pocket. As he prepared to throw it, Franz swayed back with his shield—but the longsword charged forward at the same time.
"This is bad… Then take this!"
Armon threw the dart at Franz, jumping back to avoid the longsword. The dart struck the shield, and instead of swinging the longsword, Franz hurled it straight at Armon. He barely dodged, the sword clanging against the ground.
But Armon lost focus for a moment—and an arrow struck his leg. He leaped just in time to avoid another aimed at his head.
"Argh… I'm not fighting a knight… I'm fighting an assassin armed with everything!"
Grasping his two daggers, Armon removed the arrow from his leg and dashed toward Franz, dodging multiple arrows mid-charge. By the time he reached him, Franz had already switched weapons—now wielding a sword and dagger.
Armon hurled something into the air with full force. Franz noticed and dashed toward him. Their blades collided. Armon struggled to match Franz's strength, switching to dual daggers. He nearly pierced by dagger on stomach, but was slashed in return and forced to back off.
Injured, Armon saw Franz switch weapons again, now wielding a bow. He nocked an arrow and aimed at him.
"That was a good fight, Armon. I hope you do well in your next life."
Armon smirked through the blood covering his face, body, and legs.
"You too!"
Franz released the arrow—but before it could strike, Armon's poisoned dart hit Franz in the skull. Franz stumbled toward him, still conscious.
"That was a good fight—"
Then darkness swallowed the Armon's mind.