Deep within the heart of the Blackthorn settlement an area often referred to as the core- stood the residence of the clan's highest-ranking members: the head family. At the very center of it all rose the Blackthorn Mansion, though calling it a mansion hardly did it justice. With its towering structure and overwhelming presence, it resembled a castle more than a home.
Amidst the many rooms within the vast building was one chamber set apart from the rest, a place shrouded in unease. Servants, maids, butlers, and even guards had learned to avoid it entirely, wary of the individual to whom it belonged.
The room itself was thick with the fragrance of incense, its scented smoke curling from burners placed in each corner, adding to the mystique and dread that surrounded it.
The noblewoman's chamber exuded a dark, regal elegance, cloaked in shadows cast by heavy crimson drapes and the faint glow of incense. A grand four-poster bed dominated the room, surrounded by antique furniture etched with gold and symbols of the Blackthorn lineage. Tapestries of ancient battles lined the walls, and a large, gilded mirror near the fireplace reflected the space in eerie distortions. Despite the warmth of the embers, a chill clung to the air, as if the room itself bowed in silent deference to its enigmatic mistress that lay comfortably on the bed.
This was the chamber of Natalia von Blackthorn- one of the clan's many knight commanders, and more notably, the wife of Damien, the missing heir to the Blackthorn throne. Dressed in a light sleeping gown, Natalia stirred upon her bed and slowly sat upright, her long, pitch-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of midnight. Rising gracefully, she moved toward a table and chair set before a tall mirror fixed to the wall. For a moment, she studied her reflection- those piercing dark red eyes, that flawless raven hair. To call her beautiful was an understatement; Natalia possessed a beauty so striking, it could bring kingdoms to ruin.
"You're back, Shion…" Natalia's alluring voice drifted through the stillness of the room as she gazed into the mirror, her crimson eyes unblinking.
At that moment, a figure appeared silently behind her, dressed in a modest maid's uniform.
"Yes, Mistress," Shion replied with a bow.
"What did you find out?" Natalia asked, running a brush through her long, dark hair.
"I regret to inform you, my lady… our plan has failed," Shion reported calmly.
"Oh? How so?" Natalia responded without a hint of emotion, her focus never leaving her reflection.
"The owlbear we planted in the Trial of Blood and Iron failed to eliminate all the trainees. In fact… some of them managed to defeat it."
Natalia paused for a brief second, the brush still in her hand, before resuming her strokes. "Has there been any official investigation into the incident?"
"No, my lady. It seems they're keeping quiet. There's been no mention of the owlbear's presence- it appears they're covering it up."
"Hmph… I suppose they wouldn't want word of their incompetence spreading." Her voice remained cool, detached. "If that's all, you may leave."
"My lady, there's one more thing you should know," Shion said. When Natalia offered no response, the maid continued, "Eight noble children and a commoner girl were killed during the trial—"
"So?" Natalia interrupted, puzzled as to why such news would concern her.
"All eight nobles were killed by a single boy."
"!?" Natalia paused mid-brush, a flicker of surprise breaking her usually composed expression.
"What's even stranger," Shion added, her brow furrowed, "is that although the boy is listed as a commoner… he bears the Blackthorn name."
"And what has become of him?" Natalia asked, her voice now tinged with curiosity.
"He's been sentenced to serve in the Black Rose Unit for one year, as punishment- by order of the head family."
At that, Natalia slowly set the brush down on the table, a visible smile of amusement curving her lips.
'Seems you're getting sloppy, Evander… she mused inwardly. I originally planted the beast to wipe out all the trainees, suspecting Damien's bastard might be among them. The plan may have failed, but your carelessness has revealed exactly where my fangs should strike…'
"Oh, Shion?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Any word on my son?"
"The young lord is performing splendidly, as always, at Morning Star," Shion replied.
"Excellent."
*****
Hidden beneath a dark cloak, the figure moved like a phantom between the gravestones, each step muffled by the wind. His eyes, cold and predatory, never left the two standing by the grave.
'So this is the boy, he thought, gaze narrowing on Seth. The bastard son of Damien… how unfortunate that he lived long enough to know the truth.'
The figure's hand slid toward the hilt of a blade hidden beneath his cloak, the metal glinting faintly beneath the moonlight. He paused only a few paces away, waiting for the perfect moment to strike- silent as death, and just as merciless.
Still, neither Seth nor Mira noticed. The past weighed too heavily on them… and the danger in the present crept ever closer.
Deciding not to stay hidden any longer, the assassin burst forward at blinding speed, twin daggers gleaming as he aimed straight for the throat of the purple-eyed boy standing beside the grave.
"There's a reason my bullies avoid me when she's around…" Seth murmured quietly, eyes closed, his voice laced with melancholy. His heightened senses had already detected the assassin's approach.
Unaware of Seth's words, the assassin struck without hesitation or mercy the moment he was in range- but his blades never found their mark.
Clang!
The sharp ring of steel meeting steel echoed across the open field as Vince, appearing like a phantom, intercepted the blow with his sword, shielding Seth at the last possible moment.
"I knew if I stayed away long enough, you'd show yourself," Vince said coldly, his voice like ice. Without pause, he swung his sword in a powerful arc, sending the assassin hurtling backward.
What strength! the assassin thought, staggering to his feet, eyes wide as he stared at his trembling hands from the force of the brief clash.
"Seth! Are you okay?" Mira finally called out, her voice tinged with panic as the shock wore off. Seth gave a quiet nod in response, his expression calm.
"Why are you interfering in something that doesn't concern you?!" the assassin shouted, his tone laced with frustration and disbelief as he regained his footing.
"I have no time for trivialities," Vince replied flatly, already stepping into a sword stance.
In the blink of an eye, he launched forward at blinding speed.
Steel met steel once more, the impact of their weapons sending a powerful gust of wind rippling across the field. Without pause, they erupted into a flurry of movements—clashing again and again in a storm of blinding exchanges. The assassin, agile and relentless, darted around with acrobatic precision, his twin daggers striking from unpredictable angles. Vince, wielding only a simple longsword, countered each blow with composed strength and flawless technique, each swing calculated and forceful.
After a final parry, the two fighters broke apart, creating distance between them. Breathing steady, weapons at the ready, they prepared for the next decisive clash.
This is getting dangerous... I need to find an opening to escape, the assassin thought, eyes locked on Vince's unmoving figure.
"Sigh… Like I said, I'm pressed for time," Vince muttered, stepping into another sword stance. "So I won't let this drag out. Sorry, but I won't be holding back on the next strike."
"You arrogant bastard!" the assassin snapped, falling for the bait as he lunged forward in fury.
How predictable, Vince thought.
The assassin's daggers slashed through empty air- Vince had vanished.
"[Blackthorn Technique: Ghost's Parting]," Vince whispered, now standing behind his opponent, blade already sliding back into its scabbard.
A heartbeat later, a sickening sound followed.
The assassin froze, eyes wide in disbelief as his arms dropped to the ground, still gripping his daggers. A deep, clean slash appeared across his chest, blood blooming like a red flower.
All of it had happened in an instant.
The assassin collapsed to the ground, gritting his teeth in agony, blood soaking into the earth beneath him. Despite the loss of both arms and the gash across his chest, he refused to scream.
"Most would be howling in pain after losing one arm, let alone two," Vince remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice at the assassin's endurance.
He crouched beside the dying man, his expression dark and unyielding. "Now tell me… who sent you?"
But before a single word could leave the assassin's lips, a dagger was driven mercilessly into his throat. His eyes widened for a brief moment before the light faded from them entirely.
The weapon- one of the assassin's own daggers.
The hand that held it- Seth's.
Vince blinked, visibly taken aback. "Why did you kill him?" he asked, his voice edged with surprise. "I could've made him talk. Maybe even traced his employers."
"I want them to come," Seth replied coldly, blood from the assassin splattered across his face, giving him an almost otherworldly air. "I'll strike them all down myself."
Vince let out a low chuckle, amused. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
Seth met his gaze with a small, determined smile. "You'll train me, of course."
A/N: Blueorchid here! We've finally reach a considerable milestone in the first arc!