About a hundred miles from Palais Saint-Rosel stood a grand manor. Once a retreat purchased by a city lord friendly with Arthur in Ison City, the manor had lain vacant since his death. Recently, a merchant from out of town had bought the near-derelict estate and sealed himself inside.
The manor's ornate iron fence was rusted through, while inside, wooden scaffolds, lime, and cement were piled haphazardly, as if renovations had halted mid-project. Strangely, no workers were in sight.
The only intact structure was a 100-meter Gothic tower at the manor's center. Originally an astrolabe tower, the new owner had made it the main building, with all facilities constructed around it.
Suddenly, the clear sky darkened. Leaden clouds gathered above the tower, and as a blinding lightning bolt split the sky, thunder rumbled from the clouds.
In a top-floor room of the tower, a cold-faced young man stood by the window, hands behind his back. His hawk-like gaze pierced the glass, scanning the unbroken mountain range and storm.
Crack! A massive lightning bolt rent the sky, illuminating the man's face: a prominent aquiline nose and narrow, snake-like eyes, radiating a warlord aura that startled all who saw him.
"Tonight won't be peaceful..." The young man inhaled the damp air, closing his eyes by the window like an ancient statue, motionless.
Through the rain outside, a small figure in a straw cloak pierced the mist, heading straight for the manor.
"Rainy nights are perfect for assassinations—restrict targets' movements and hide bloodscent," Rick thought, recalling Shust's assassin rules.
Wiping rain from his face, Rick grumbled, "Supposedly ideal killing weather, but this rain is outrageous!"
Stumbling through the manor's outskirts, Rick saw only white rain—nothing like the heavily guarded estate he'd imagined.
"Shust said the calmest places hide the most danger, but..." Rick scratched his head. "What now? Assassination really is a skilled trade."
"Fuck it. Charge in," Rick decided, kicking down the rusted fence and striding confidently through the rain toward the tower.
In truth, despite his calm facade, Rick's heart pounded wildly. He scanned his surroundings intently, braced for the unexpected ambush.
"Shust is amazing. So this is the tense work he does..."
Suddenly, Rick halted, his gaze fixing on a sandpile to the side.
"There's... something here."
The thought had barely formed when the sandpile exploded with a bang. A straight spike shot out, aiming for Rick's throat.
"So fast!"
Flicking his foot, Rick executed a fluid backflip. The spike grazed his chin, slicing a shiny black arc through the torrential rain.
But no sooner had his feet hit the ground than a whistling sound struck from behind.
"Dammit, an ambush! Shust was right!"
Gritting his teeth, Rick hunched and rammed backward. As a sharp, curved blade skimmed over his head, his elbow-blade shot out, piercing the attacker's abdomen.
Securing the hit, Rick used his speed to create distance, struggling to steady his breath.
The attack jolted his chaotic thoughts into focus. He'd followed Shust's advice on assassination, but facing enemies revealed his combat style couldn't match Shust's treacherous assassinations. His only option was direct combat.
"I'm no bodyguard or assassin. Charging in is simpler."
Rick's hands gradually covered in sharp insect carapace. He hunched, eyes locked on the two opponents before him.
One wielded twin curved blades—a Royal-Class Tiger-Tooth Insect. The other brandished red spikes—a Demon-Class Fire Ant.
Eyeing their carapace-covered faces, Rick smiled bitterly inwardly: "They're at the top-tier Insect General realm. I'm only Level 1, facing two at once."
The rain poured heavier, white mist obscuring the view. As a lightning bolt split the sky, the three motionless figures charged each other simultaneously.
They matched his Insect General realm, so their senses wouldn't lag. His only chance...
Hardly had this thought flashed through his mind when a purple blur dazzled between his swiftly swinging legs. Suddenly, Rick felt every cell in his body stir. The force flowing through him seemed fully absorbed by his cells, and his eyes began to track high-speed movements clearly.
In the past, using Ghost Step left Rick disoriented, relying on instinct to attack. Now, it seemed the insect combat instincts in his consciousness had adapted to this speed, prompting his cells to activate further. This allowed his eyes to follow high-speed motions while coordinating with enhanced reflexes.
"Weird feeling—did I get stronger again?" Watching opponents attack in slow motion, Rick calmly weaved through their strikes, swinging his scythe as they passed.
Sizzle. The sound of spraying liquid rang in his ears. Rick halted, turning slowly.
In that instant, time had seemed to slow for him, but to others, his movements were a blur. With another spray of blood, the two Insect General warriors split in half, collapsing into the rain.
"So... strong... When did I..." Rick stared at his hands. He'd desperately studied human combat techniques to suppress insect instincts, but unconsciously, these two distinct fighting styles had resonated and merged.
"Do insects' billion-year-old hunting instincts evolve? Fuck... Don't tell me I haven't shaken off the insect consciousness—maybe I've strengthened it?" This thought made him shiver.
Just then, his superhuman vision spotted a window open at the black tower's peak. A man waved to him.
From a hundred meters, Rick recognized him—the target he'd come to kill. Eliminating him would reduce Manny's potential threats.
He'd need to ask Arthur later— the old man must know what was happening to him. But first, finish the job.
Confident, Rick headed for the tower, knowing ambushes awaited. But since he'd accepted he was an amateur assassin, maybe facing enemies head-on was his true style.
"Idiot!" Meanwhile, a shadow hidden in the manor's corner cursed, vanishing into the night and rain.
At the top of the Gothic tower.
"Master! The enemy has breached the manor!" Suddenly, the chamber door burst open, revealing a panic-stricken figure.
The man stumbled to the young man's side, shouting wildly, "Master Callan! The attacker is inside—retreat now!"
"Breached? There's only one assailant."
Callan, the man addressed, turned slowly, eyeing his disheveled subordinate coldly. "We are royalty among assassin clans. Should one man force us to abandon our royal dignity and flee?"
"H-he wields Tanzan royal techniques. We can't defeat him."
"But we are the Thorntons. We do not retreat!"
"Y-yes." The attendant rose slowly, pausing at the door to glance back at Callan by the window. "Please stay safe, Master."
The attendant shut the door. Sounds of insect carapace activation and footsteps faded, leaving the chamber silent again.
"Thornton honor... heh..." Alone by the window, Callan smiled bitterly at the black flame dragon tattoo on his wrist. "To true dominators, the Thorntons are mere pawns to sacrifice. But why choose us? I refuse to accept it."
"Has that old man Arthur noticed yet? I can't fathom..." Callan muttered like a man possessed, unaware that a figure had silently appeared by the door.
"You must be Master Thornton. Are you leading this operation?"
The newcomer sported wild blond hair and imposing insect carapace trimmed in gold. Merely stepping inside, he exuded overwhelming pressure.
"Who are you?" Callan asked calmly.
"Balzac the Diving Beetle."
"Balzac? Heh, never heard of you." Callan unbuttoned his tuxedo collar, tilting his head. "But I see now—we face more than one enemy."
"Don't confuse me with that lad. He's an amateur. I—"
Whoosh! As he spoke, Balzac's thin wings hidden beneath his armor activated. Propelled like a rocket, he lunged at Callan.
"All-purpose combat insect—Diving Beetle!"
In a split second, Callan's body contorted at an impossible angle, narrowly dodging Balzac's strike.
"Huh?"
Before Balzac could react, Callan's arm snapped out like a whip, slapping Balzac across the face and slamming him into the wall.
"Cough... How? Is this jujutsu? How achieve such a move?" Balzac gaped, unable to believe his eyes.
"Seems you're an amateur too."
Callan pulled two sharp stabbing swords from the wall, swinging his arms as countless blade shadows spiraled toward Balzac like a tornado.
"Dammit, am I going to lose?"
In the nick of time, Balzac slammed his head against the wall, collapsing the section trapping him. The swordtip grazed his hair, missing by a hair's breadth.
"You have luck, but what about now?" Callan leaped into the adjacent room over the rubble, looking down like a monarch.
"Hmph, I refuse to admit anyone but Shust can best me!"
"Foolish."
With a flick of his whip-like right arm, Callan's longsword sliced through the floorboards like tofu.
Facing Callan's staggering destructive power, Balzac couldn't confront him head-on, relying on the Diving Beetle's unmatched short-range speed to dodge the frenzied attacks.
"Fuck, is this guy crazy? So hard to deal with!"
"Is that all you can do—run, coward!"
Callan thrusted at Balzac's blind spot. As Balzac rolled to dodge, Callan's arm bent impossibly backward, stabbing into Balzac's shoulder and pinning him to the wall.
"Shit, this is bad..." Blood gushed from Balzac's shoulder, leaving him unable to move as Callan approached step by step.
"Turns out the opponent is just this level. Can't believe we made such a fuss." Callan sneered cruelly, raising his sword to slit Balzac's throat—
BOOM!
The wall collapsed under a huge force. Rick, with scythe-like hands and blood-soaked, charged in. A flash of cold light sliced through Callan's abnormally long arm pinning Balzac.
"Sorry, late! Thought you could handle it alone!"
Rick assumed a defensive stance against Callan, who'd lost an arm.
"You're Rick?" Callan ignored his severed arm, staring intently into Rick's eyes.
"You know me?" Rick was taken aback.
"Hehe... We met in the red-light district. Regret not killing you then. But it's not too late. If I keep you here, that lame girl won't ignore it, right?"
"Huh? A trap? We were outmaneuvered?" Rick turned to see Balzac grit his teeth, pulling the longsword from his shoulder.
"Impossible. Though today's strange, he's the target. Taking him out must be right!"
"Makes sense."
Rick flashed to the window, while Balzac panted by the door, trapping Callan in the room.
"Tch, I won't be captured, even if fate is sealed!"
Callan slammed his right arm, and the wound on his severed limb squirmed—miraculously regenerating a new arm.
"Fuck! Regeneration? Is he a ghost?"
"Tch, not a ghost, but I never expected someone to use earthworms as their internal insect."
"Earthworms? Those are combat insects?"
"Though not a combat insect, combined with the Thornton family's inherited jujutsu, I doubt he needs insect combat instincts!"
"Attack!"
Balzac and Rick exchanged a glance, then both kicked off, charging Callan like phantoms from front and rear.
Their attack left no blind spots, but Callan's boneless body bent at impossible angles, evading their blades by mere centimeters.
"Ghost Step!"
Mid-air, Rick's legs flailed wildly. The rapid, powerful leg force used air resistance to flip him backward mid-flight.
"Dodge this!"
Rick pounced like a shadow, scythe aimed at Callan's throat.
"Am I dying? Dying would complete the mission, but... why sacrifice me?"
In an instant, countless thoughts raced through Callan's mind. He vividly recalled the recent order he couldn't refuse, but facing death, he realized he couldn't ignore his fear.
"No, I refuse! Even if the Thornton family falls, I won't die!"
Roaring with all his might, Callan's body stretched double in length. Rick's scythe, aimed at his throat, slashed his abdomen instead.
Blood sprayed as Callan's elongated body was cut in two by Rick's full-power strike.
The lower half of his body twitched a few times before falling still. To Rick's horror, Callan, now half-body, dragged his bloody torso eerily outward.
"No... You've got to be kidding... What the hell is this monster..."
Rick was too stunned to speak. He and Balzac forgot to attack, watching the dying Callan crawl from the room.
"Dammit, he regenerates! We'll never finish him if we don't kill him!" Suddenly realizing, Balzac slapped Rick, dragging him in pursuit.
Outside, Callan, fleeing down the corridor, was already sprouting rudimentary legs. Seeing the spiral staircase ahead, his eyes lit with the will to survive.
"Fuck it, fuck the Twelve Alliances' order. I won't die here..."
"Huh... a web?"
A voice filled with venom and confusion echoed from afar, then cut off abruptly.
Rick and Balzac charged out, rounding the corridor to hear a ear-piercing scream. Callan's mangled body was already sliced to pieces by invisible Heavenly Wolf Spider silk lying in wait.
"Fuck, you said he wouldn't come!" Rick glared at Balzac.
"Did I? Did I say that?" Balzac touched his nose innocently, though the smirk on his lips betrayed him.
"This is the real ace assassin... But why no sense of victory?" Rick stared at Callan's unyielding expression. "Today's been too bizarre..."