The Greatest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Tensura

The next day, just as the first rays of dawn touched the grand halls of the royal palace, the MC walked through its towering doors like a phantom returning from the abyss. The air was still thick with the remnants of his past slaughter, the weight of countless souls now resting in his grasp.

The throne room was lavish, adorned with golden banners bearing the insignia of the king's lineage. A long scarlet carpet stretched toward the throne, where the king sat, flanked by his most trusted knights and advisors. Mages stood stationed along the pillars, ever watchful, their robes embroidered with ancient runes.

As the MC stepped forward, every soldier stiffened, gripping their weapons. There was something off about him—something unnatural. A silent predator cloaked in the guise of a man.

He stopped before the king, reached into the void of his shadow, and pulled forth Callas' severed head.

The lifeless eyes of the former general stared into nothingness, mouth frozen in a final, silent scream.

The MC let it drop.

A dull thud echoed through the chamber as Callas' head rolled to the king's feet, leaving behind a faint trail of dark mist.

The king—an older man with piercing eyes and a hard-lined face sculpted by war and politics—leaned forward, examining the head before him.

He let out a satisfied chuckle, his golden robes rustling as he settled back into his throne.

"You have done well, demon. Callas was a traitor, a thorn in my side. You have earned your reward."

He waved his hand, signaling to his soldiers.

"Go. You are dismissed."

The MC didn't move. Instead, he smirked.

"Is that all?" he asked, voice smooth as silk but carrying a sharp edge of amusement.

The king raised an eyebrow. "You were paid, were you not?

You got what you wanted. There is nothing more for us to discuss."

The MC tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"That's where you're wrong, Your Majesty."

Before the king could question further, the MC raised his hand—

And whispered a word of power.

Instantly, an invisible force swept across the room.

A black mist crawled up the walls, winding around the pillars, slithering toward the guards, the mages, and the king himself.

None of them could see it. None of them could feel it. But it was there.

Settling into their bones.

Burying itself into their souls.

This was "Dominus Maledictum"—the Curse of the Eternal Thrall.

A spell so insidious that it did not force obedience through pain or control, but through absolute, unwavering loyalty.

They would never suspect they were cursed.

They would never fight against it.

They would simply... obey.

The king scoffed.

"Your arrogance amuses me, demon. You may have power, but I am no fool." He waved him away. "Leave now, while you still have your life."

The MC's smirk deepened.

"As you wish, my king."

He turned and walked away—but he already knew.

From this moment forward, the king and his men would be nothing more than his puppets.

They would whisper secrets to him in their sleep.

They would reveal every plot, every betrayal, every movement of the kingdom.

They would bend to his will, believing they were acting on their own desires.

And when the time came—

They would kill for him.

With a final glance over his shoulder, the MC vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his dark presence.

The kingdom was his.

They just didn't know it yet.

The MC stood on the outskirts of the kingdom, gazing at the landscape before him. The towering stone walls encased a thriving town, bustling with life. Torches flickered along the battlements, illuminating the entrance where guards stood watch, their expressions sharp and unwavering.

He exhaled, watching the dark mist swirl around his form. The countless corpses he had gathered—warriors, mages, and rebels—were now his raw materials.

Inside his mind, Lara's voice echoed with clarity.

"You can use these bodies to construct a vessel, a proper one, so you can remain in the Material World without the constraints of your ethereal form."

The MC smirked.

"How?"

Lara responded smoothly.

"Absorb them into yourself. Mold their essence into a physical body that mimics your original form—or craft something entirely new. You are no longer limited by the flesh you were born into."

Without hesitation, he reached out. The corpses disintegrated into black mist, swirling around him as he pulled them into his very being. He reshaped the bones, the flesh, the essence of those he had slain, sculpting them into a vessel of his choosing.

His form solidified—a powerful, commanding presence, flesh and blood, yet something beyond human.

His fingers flexed, testing the tangible weight of his new body. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs.

For the first time in a long time, he was truly here.

With his transformation complete, he stepped toward the kingdom's gates, melding into the throng of townspeople.

The town was alive.

Merchants shouted their prices from wooden stalls, their voices competing over the hum of conversation. The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted through the air, mixing with the spiced scent of roasted meat. Children darted between the legs of tired laborers, their laughter ringing through the cobbled streets.

He walked among them, his sharp eyes absorbing everything.

A woman in a tattered cloak sat near a tavern, holding out a hand, her fingers trembling with age and hunger. A young couple strolled past him, whispering to one another, oblivious to the dark force that had just entered their city.

A group of armored knights, bearing the sigil of the king, marched in formation toward the castle. Their eyes were cold, their expressions unreadable.

Everywhere, life moved forward—unaware of the predator in their midst.

He passed by a small food stall, where a heavyset man was grilling skewers of seasoned meat over an open flame. The scent was intoxicating.

"You want one, stranger?" The merchant grinned, waving a skewer toward him.

The MC hesitated—then reached out, taking the offering. The first bite was an explosion of flavor—charred, smoky, spiced just right.

He hadn't eaten real food in so long.

As he finished the skewer, he heard Lara's voice in his mind once more.

"I've located Veldora."

He stopped walking, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Where?"

Lara responded without delay.

"Jura Forest. He's currently engaged in battle."

The MC's expression darkened.

"Battle? Against who?"

A pause. Then—

"His sister, Velgrynd."

That made him freeze. Veldora? Fighting his sister?

That didn't make sense.

"Why would he fight Velgrynd?"

Lara's response was immediate.

"Because of his personality. Veldora is reckless, a force of destruction. He doesn't think about consequences. He simply attacks, destroys, and causes problems—wiping out kingdoms for no reason other than boredom. His sister is… correcting him."

The MC smirked slightly.

"Correcting?"

Lara's tone was dry.

"Educating him… through violence."

He chuckled under his breath. So that's how it is.

A dragon running wild, and a sister trying to beat sense into him.

The MC's gaze turned toward the distant horizon.

Jura Forest.

That was where his next step lay.

Without another word, he vanished into the night.