Rivers of the Night

A man stood on a distant building, the icicles that pelted down around him reflecting off a shield of Mana.

The Cadence of the Crypt.

A dagger twirled in the man's hand as he watched from a distance, his gaze flickering.

Maybe it was a product of just the sort of monster Theron was. Even seeing him in this state, the old assassin didn't act immediately. A part of him wondered if it was a trick, a trap to lure him in.

Theron was a person who seemed to always be ten steps ahead of everyone else. When he had barely stepped into Silver Mancy, he had already played three Divine Realm experts in the palm of his hands.

Then that idiot Gian had gone and told him his plans to attack Theron's psyche directly. For someone like Theron, it seemed only all too obvious that he could use this as a ploy to lure him in.

However…

The old assassin's gaze narrowed and suddenly he flashed forward. The best assassins in the world weren't the sort to be crippled by fear and indecision. The moment he made a choice, he didn't hesitate, and he moved with the full scope of his efforts.

Everyone had their advantages in this secretly raging war, but what too few of them knew was the fact that of them all…

He was probably the one that understood Theron the best.

While he wasn't the best schemer, and he wasn't the strongest, when it came to reading and reacting to Theron in an acute setting, he was second to none.

He had spent the most time with Theron, and he knew Theron's trump cards better than all of them…

Because he had taught Theron most of them.

Deng. Deng. Deng.

With a flick of his wrist, his daggers seemed to pulse, matching a hidden cadence in the air and shattering the dense rain of ice around Theron in the blink of an eye.

He landed on the ground right beside Theron so fast that it seemed as though he had teleported there, lifting the young man up by his hair.

"You… have caused me no small bit of trouble. I guess it's as they say, though. There's no scheme better than an open one, is there?"

The skies rumbled and a familiar platform appeared. But this time it hovered above them all in the form of a heavy disk.

The Dagger Call platform.

It was a treasure that should be in Theron's possession, and that it was. This, however… was a replica. It might be smaller and less powerful, but it was far more easily used in an acute setting.

A platform that could force one to tell the truth was probably the most powerful soul treasure on the continent. There was a reason the old assassin knew so many soul-related trump card Spells.

And now…

Binds fell from the skies, layering over Theron who still seemed to be screaming. However, there wasn't a sound being made from his mouth anymore, nor was there any Mana being expelled.

He simply had nothing left to give.

BANG!

Theron's body was sucked onto the disk, tied down by illusory chains of blood.

The Alpha had been flung away by Theron's display, its body encased in ice it still couldn't seem to break free from even now. It roared, or rather it tried to, only for it to be completely useless.

The old assassin completely ignored the Alpha. It was a powerful beast, but it was no Divine Realm beast. If he weren't so injured, he could handle it. But it was better to let Theron's own actions keep it grounded here.

He was about to turn to leave when he saw the unconscious Teacher Fern in the distance.

There was no doubt that Gian would have his own trump card to deal with the situation. But it seemed that this time, the old assassin had lucked into his own chance.

With a wave of his hand, Teacher Fern's neck was sucked into his palm.

…

"I really don't get it. You don't act to stop him from slaughtering your family, and you also don't act to stop others from taking advantage of him either. What are you trying to get at here? Do you just want everything to fail?"

Surprisingly, this time…

Sadie replied.

"This time, I'll see it through to the end."

Her words seemed to have meaning only to the two of them. And just as surprisingly, the voice didn't reply this time.

—

Patriarch Gian touched a bloody gash across his chest, shaking his head. The Cadence of the Crypt's blades were well and truly meant to be avoided.

Difficult to deal with, indeed. Even all these months later, he was only back to about 80% of his peak. But…

It was enough.

This wasn't a battle that would be decided by pure strength.

Oddly enough, though, even as he had those thoughts, he seemed amused, sarcastic even, as though he didn't mean what he was saying at all… as though the old assassin wasn't the true reason for this wound at all.

He dressed the gash once again and then took a small breath, a smile arching his lips as he stood to his feet.

He walked to the line of small, ancient texts.

How many years had it taken him to grow this collection? How many geniuses had he gone through? How much effort?

He smiled.

"No one could guess the real secret of this world, can they?" he said softly, stroking the lines of the small booklets as though he was going to pick one. However, a small thread formed from each one as his fingers passed along.

Every book he touched withered away to ash, and he aged as well, his wrinkles becoming deeper, his hair greying and then whitening to the same color of ash.

He took a breath, this one far deeper than any he had taken before. Winds rushed about and then the bookcase seemed to crumble, scattering in the wind.

While his body seemed more frail than ever before, his eyes…

They were lit as bright as torches.

"You seem to be doing well, Uncle Gian."

The voice came from nowhere, and yet Gian didn't seem surprised at all. Even when he turned around and saw the familiar sigil of the Seijin Clan and a very familiar young man…