The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Jerom’s eyes trembled as he stared up at Zephyrion.

"Y-you’re... Mark four...? H-how...?"

The speed and power now made sense. What he didn’t was how he’d reached mark four in the span of days!

Zephyrion didn’t respond. Instead, he blurred, and an incalculable number of bangs erupted as a torrent of punches crashed into the four around him. Blood sprayed as they were driven into the arena.

"Spinning spikes."

Metal spikes formed above the trainees and shot down, piercing through their limbs and pinning them in place.

"Arrrrk!!!"

Their screams tore through the arena, but they did nothing to shift the cold, unmoving look in Zephyrion’s eyes as he walked toward Jerom.

"N-no..."

Jerom shivered and he quickly reached out for the WorldPulse, but his every attempt at forming any metal was crushed by the sheer heaviness of the air.

As Zephyrion neared, Jerom’s armor began to liquify and lose shape. By the time Zephyrion reached him, the armor had dissolved, leaving his body bare.

Jerom’s gaze trembled.

"W-wait— wait!"

Zephyrion suddenly seized him by the neck and lifted him off the ground. As their eyes met, an intense shudder ran through Jerom’s body.

"Do you know why I’m doing this?"

"W-what... what are you—"

Jerom clawed at the hand around his throat, his breaths breaking as the grip tightened, but it didn’t budge.

"Because you tried to touch what’s mine."

Zephyrion yanked him closer and caught his arm with his free hand. Jerom’s eyes widened in horror.

"N-no, I didn’t—listen, just—just wait!"

"...so I’ll take something that’s yours."

"N-no—please, wait!"

Zephyrion pulled.

The arm tore free in a single, brutal motion.

"ARRRRKKKK! My arm! My arm!"

Gasps rippled through the arena as eyes widened in shock. They had known the terms, but none had expected him to literally rip it off like this!

But despite the shocked gazes, Zephyrion’s was unfazed. As crimson blood began pooling beneath his feet, his hand shifted to Jerom’s remaining arm.

"NO—WAIT! PLEASE! I’M BEGGING!"

He tore it off just as easily.

"AAARRGH! MY ARM! MY ARM!"

Zephyrion tightened his grip around Jerom’s neck, cutting off the screams in an instant. He drew him closer, his cold eyes locking onto Jerom’s.

"If I ever see you near anything that’s mine again... I’ll rip your head off."

"A-ack... a-ack..."

Jerom could barely force out a sound, his face turning blue as his body trembled.

The next moment, Zephyrion tossed him aside like trash.

In the deafening silence that followed, every eye in the arena remained fixed on him as he turned and walked toward the remaining trainees.

"STOP! PLEASE—!"

"NO! NO—!"

"AAAHHH—!"

Their screams rose again, sharper this time, as he tore off each of their arms without stopping.

He gathered the arms in the center of the arena, then raised his hand. Metal condensed above the pile, forming a massive boulder.

His hand dropped.

Bam!

He lifted it again, revealing crushed, mangled flesh and bone, then let it fall once more.

Bam!

He raised it again and dropped it.

Bam!

Again. And again... until nothing remained but broken bone and gore.

The boulder dissolved into the air.

Then, before the stunned gazes of the entire arena, Zephyrion turned, gave a brief show of respect to the head of house, and walked off.

A long moment passed before the instructor finally stepped onto the stage.

"W-winner, Lord Zephyrion."

...

Garrick moved quickly through the halls toward the tavern, a wide grin spread across his face.

’Five days...’

Most didn’t know, but he had been keeping track. When Zephyrion fought the Reaver, he had still been at mark three.

What took prodigies months, even a year, had taken him just five days to reach mark four!

Garrick had never heard of anything so absurd in his entire life.

"Haha... this fucking kid."

He burst out laughing, shaking his head.

"Hm?"

Garrick paused as he felt a ripple behind him.

He turned, and his gaze landing on Kastor, who now stood there as if he had always been.

Garrick frowned.

"Huh? The hell do you want?"

The head of house held his gaze for several seconds, his expression stern, before speaking.

"...You’re going to drink again."

"Of course I am. After what I just saw? I’d be crazy not to."

Garrick muttered about what a monster Zephyrion was, then fixed Kastor with a sharp, probing look.

"But you already knew, didn’t you?" He said, tilting his head. "...You’re after something. What is it?"

"...."

Garrick didn’t miss the brief flicker in Kastor’s eyes. His frown deepened. There weren’t many things in this world that could make his brother hesitate. The first was gone, and the second...

"Ah... don’t tell me this is about Zephyrion?"

Kastor’s gaze hardened for a moment, then eased.

"...I want to know what happened."

"You mean why he ripped those idiots’ arms off?"

"...yes."

"Hm."

Garrick studied him for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. For once, he was glad he stalked the boy.

"I could just tell you... but where’s the fun in that?"

"...what do you want?"

"Haha... I hear business is good these days. You should be loaded, right? Get me a high grade elixir."

"...Why? It won’t even do anything for you."

"That’s fine. It’s not for me."

"...."

Kastor’s brows drew together slightly. He fell silent for several seconds, pondering, then gave a small nod.

"...alright."

"Good... good." Garrick grinned, then turned thoughtful for a moment . "...it’s because they went after his woman."

"...woman?"

"Yeah. That girl he brought back with him... that’s the one."

"...."

Garrick chuckled at Kastor’s silence.

"I guess he’s really is your seed. You remember how you used to be... anyone even got close to Senerith and you’d lose it."

Kastor’s brows drew together.

"I don’t."

"Yeah... sure."

Garrick watched him for a moment with a faintly amused look, then waved a hand and turned away.

"Alright, I’m off. I’ve got something to celebrate."

As Garrick walked off, Kastor remained where he stood, his brows slowly knitting as his gaze lowered to the ground.

"...a woman?"