Chapter 11: The Final Test
Kim Han stood in the dimly lit courtyard, the cold wind cutting through his torn clothes. His body ached, his muscles screamed, but his mind was silent.
Daichi Sato stood before him, his crimson eyes gleaming in the moonlight. There was something different in his expression tonight.
Tonight wasn't just another training session.
Tonight was the final test.
Daichi gestured toward the center of the courtyard. There, kneeling with his hands tied behind his back, was a man.
He was middle-aged, his face battered and bruised, his eyes filled with terror. Dried blood stained his torn clothes, and his breath came in ragged gasps.
Han's heart didn't race. He didn't feel fear, or hesitation, or even pity. Not anymore.
Daichi tossed a blade onto the ground between them. The polished steel gleamed under the moonlight.
"Kill him," Daichi said simply.
Han's fingers twitched.
The man looked up, his swollen lips trembling. "P-Please…"
Han stared at him, expressionless.
Daichi tilted his head. "I don't like repeating myself, Han."
Still, Han didn't move.
Daichi sighed, stepping forward. He grabbed the man by the hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. The man whimpered.
"You've learned to fight." Daichi's voice was calm. "You've learned to endure pain. But now—" He turned his gaze to Han.
"You must learn to kill without hesitation."
He let go of the man's hair, pushing his head forward roughly. The prisoner gasped, barely able to hold himself upright.
"This man was a traitor," Daichi continued, circling them. "He betrayed his own people. He sold information to our enemies."
Daichi crouched beside the man and whispered, "Tell him the truth."
The man's lips trembled, his breath shaky. "I—I have a family… please… I was just trying to feed them—"
A sharp crack echoed through the courtyard as Daichi backhanded him across the face.
"I didn't ask for excuses." Daichi stood and turned to Han.
"You either kill him, or you die in his place."
Han stared at the blade lying between them. A simple choice.
He reached down and picked it up.
The steel felt cold in his hands.
The man started crying. Begging. "Please… Please, don't do this…"
Han's grip tightened on the blade.
Daichi watched him closely.
Han had killed before. He had fought against men stronger than him, ruthlessly beating them until they stopped moving.
But this was different.
This man wasn't fighting back.
He was just waiting to die.
For the first time in months, Han hesitated.
Daichi's expression darkened. He noticed.
His voice turned sharp. "You think he wouldn't kill you if the situation were reversed?"
Han didn't answer.
Daichi walked up behind him, his voice low, venomous.
"Do you think the world hesitated when it took your family?"
Han's breath hitched.
The memories flooded back.
His mother's screams.
His father's lifeless body.
His sister's blood on the floor.
Daichi crouched beside him. His voice was barely a whisper. "They died begging too."
Something snapped.
Han's grip on the blade tightened. His heartbeat was steady.
And without another thought—
He drove the blade into the man's throat.
The man gasped. Choked. His body convulsed as blood gushed from the wound, spilling over Han's hands. His eyes—wide with terror—stared into Han's.
Han didn't look away.
He just pushed the blade deeper.
Until the man stopped moving.
Until the light faded from his eyes.
Until he was nothing.
The courtyard was silent.
Han stood up, blood dripping from his hands.
Daichi smiled.
"That," he whispered, "is the moment you were truly born."
Han didn't respond.
He didn't feel anger.
He didn't feel guilt.
He didn't feel anything.
He just turned and walked away.
---
That night, as Han sat alone in his quarters, he stared at his reflection in a small puddle on the floor.
His own eyes looked unfamiliar.
There was no trace of the boy he once was.
No trace of humanity.
Only emptiness.
And in that emptiness—
A monster was growing.
---