“**[ETERNAL NIGHT]**.”
The never-ending night of eternity.
Light and sound vanished from the world. The presence and figure of Laila, who he thought was right in front of him, disappeared. Even the presence of his brothers and sisters, who should have been watching Sien, could no longer be felt.
There was nothing. He could see nothing, and he could hear nothing. Only the darkness of an endless night swallowed Sien’s world.
By the time he realized it, Sien’s chest had been slashed. When did it happen? He felt no sensation of being wounded, nor did he feel any pain. Then, he noticed another line of blood racing across his body.
The absence of something did not necessarily mean it did not exist. Even recalling the teachings of the Thief Master changed nothing. This was no longer a simple game of house.
Steeling his resolve, Sien unleashed a technique of the First Sword Style.
“**[MOON IN THE WATER]**.”
*Slash!*
The moon reflected in the water—ignoring the meaning of those words, Laila’s blade swung through and cut down Sien’s moon.
“**[FLOWER IN THE MIRROR]**.”
Sien widened the distance and performed the next move of the First Sword Style. A flower reflected in a mirror.
Nothing changed. Once again, the mirror shattered, and the flower bled. No matter how much he hid within the lake or the mirror, the Mother of Assassins would always find the moon and the flower hidden there, cutting them down.
the wounds were deep.
He soon realized something. The drop of blood that fell from the very first wound was still slowly descending toward the floor. The first grain of sand from a flipped hourglass had not yet touched the bottom.
It was a moment frozen like an eternity. A world at a standstill. It was meaningless to wait for the hourglass to empty in this place.
‘This world is made of dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, dew, and lightning.’
Just as dreams wake, illusions shatter, bubbles burst, and shadows vanish, nothing in the world is absolute or fixed. Time was the same. Just as time flows quickly for some and slowly for others, the absolute nature of time was ultimately nothing more than an illusion.
“The world of wraiths.”
In the characters of the Eastern Continent where the ancestor Kassan was born, it was called the [Dream, Illusion, Bubble, Shadow, Dew, and Lightning]. Eternal Night was the strongest secret technique of the Pose of the Wraith that materialized that realization. It was a marvel close to a supernatural power, transcending the shackles of technique or form.
An endless night.
‘Was it too early?’ he suddenly thought.
Even if it was Sien, was it too early for a fifteen-year-old body—almost sixteen—to face the great Laila and prove his mastery of the First Sword Style? Everything regarding the First Sword Style was clearly etched into Sien’s mind. However, he could not draw it out as he wished. His immature body could not keep up.
‘Could I have taken it slower? Could I have delayed it?’
Until he was fully prepared. Tomorrow, the day after, or some time later. Just not right now. Even now, he could stop the sacrament by kneeling. Laila would surely understand.
Then, he unintentionally recalled the time Laila taught him about aura and mana. It was common sense. He knew it, but he had brushed it off, saying he couldn’t do it because his body wouldn’t follow. He had given up, thinking that his mind understood perfectly, but his body simply couldn’t keep up.
Back then, he had arbitrarily defined what he could and could not do.
He was wrong. It was no different now. It wasn’t the body that couldn’t follow. The body had been ready from the beginning.
Within the frozen world, Laila’s sword swung. In a world where the drops of blood from Sien’s body and the grains of sand from the hourglass were all halted in the darkness of the endless night.
‘I am the one who decides whether I can do it or not.’
So, Sien closed his eyes. Closing his eyes in the darkness, he muttered softly. Eternal Night, the secret technique the Pose of the Wraith boasted, plunged everything in the world into a never-ending night.
Therefore, he recalled the only technique that could break the endless night.
“**[WHITE NIGHT]**.”
A white night, just as the name suggested.
A cold chill swirled. Frost that should not have been swirling, snow that should not have been falling, and a pure white night sky that should not have been visible unfolded there.
Sien was there as well. He was no longer the black, dark wraith he had shown until now, but a pure white wraith that belonged on a winter mountain. The pitch-black blade of Dark Mithril held a white, cold edge.
“How did you break my Eternal Night?” Laila asked.
“Just as dreams wake, illusions shatter, bubbles burst, shadows vanish, dew falls, and lightning fades…” Sien replied. “Your night is not eternal either, Mother.”
Even a night that feels like it will never end must eventually come to an end. There is nothing eternal in this world. Even if it is a dream, an illusion, or a bubble created by the Mother of Assassins, the pinnacle of those who walk the night.
“That is a wonderful answer.”
A frost that should not have swirled fluttered the hem of her clothes, and snow that should not have fallen settled softly on her shoulders. Simultaneously, the pure white night sky crumbled. The frost ceased. The falling snow vanished.
Just as dreams wake, illusions shatter, bubbles burst, and shadows vanish.
Laila’s world of wraiths crumbled, and Sien’s world of wraiths crumbled in the same way. And there stood the unquestionable masters of the First Sword Style.
The place had returned to the room where the sacrament was being held with the siblings of the family.
*Tock.*
The last grain of sand in the hourglass fell.
***
The surroundings were shrouded in pitch-black darkness.
“Eat this. This is my body.”
A voice echoed through the darkness.
“This is the cup of the new covenant sealed with my blood.”
A young girl with crystal-colored hair carefully received the golden cup held in Laila’s hand.
“All of you, take this and drink from it.”
This was the secret underground chapel built within the mansion of the Duchy of Nightwalker. It held the remnants of the ancient assassin order led by the family’s ancestor, the Old Man of the Mountain, Kassan Nightwalker.
“—This is my blood. I shed this blood for you.”
The ritual concluded in silence, and the girl with crystal-colored hair, the child of the night, Tia, hesitantly brought the golden cup to her lips.
And watching that scene were various individuals who walked the night, including Master Sien. To them, family was everything. However, the children who had died previously were not Sien’s family. Therefore, their deaths meant nothing to him.
But the girl before him was different.
Sien, who had not even flinched while three children had just died writhing in pain, finally bit his lip. Tia Nightwalker—she was Sien’s family and the child destined to become their everything.
*Crack!*
The body contorts. The Baptism, a pain of rebirth (※ Form total 88) that reconstructs the body at a cellular level, had begun.
Sien closed his eyes, praying for the first time that ‘destiny would not change.’
Leaving behind the girl’s scream that seemed to pierce his ears.
***
“Candidate for Confirmation, Oscar Grandel, and his Godmother, please come forward.”
As the Cardinal of the Holy Empire raised his voice solemnly, Oscar Grandel and the Holy Mother of Death, who claimed to be his Godmother, stood up together.
“My dear godson, baptismal name Iscariot.”
Following the ritual, the Cardinal poured blessed oil onto Oscar’s forehead.
“Let us pray for the servants of the Lord who have received the Confirmation Sacrament through the gift of the Holy Spirit.”
It was another sacrament proving that a believer who had received baptism had firmed their faith.
“Let us pray for the parents and godparents of those who have been confirmed.”
Watching his biological son’s sacrament from a distance, the father, Sword Demon Osward Grandel, bit his lip hard. Because there was nothing left that could be undone.
***
One year and several months later.
The office of the Nightwalker mansion.
“Godfather.”
There was a silhouette against the brilliant backlight beyond the glass window. It was not the usual Mother of Assassins, Laila.
“Tia.”
It was the godfather of the youngest nightwalker, Tia, and the youngest Master of their family, Sien.
“Mother is scheduled to return to the territory.”
“The, her Grace the Duchess…”
“Once the Head of the family arrives, I’ll likely be away from the territory for quite some time.”
Even though he had become a Master, Sien still had much to learn. That was no exception for the young girl before him, Tia.
“I have something to teach you before then.”
“Yes, Godfather Sien.”
His goddaughter, Tia, bowed politely. Sien gave a thin smile and shook his head.
“There’s no need to be so formal.”
“But still…”
Just as Laila had once done to the young Sien.
“Um, then what should I call you?” Tia asked back.
Sien was about to answer without much thought, but then he suddenly realized his current age.
‘That’s right, I’m only seventeen.’
Tia’s age was fifteen this year; there was only a two-year difference between them.
“I can’t exactly have you call me father…”
No matter how eccentric the customs of the Nightwalker family were, they were still people of this world.
“…Just keep calling me that.”
“Yes, Godfather.”
Tia replied to Sien’s awkward words, wearing a smile so small that even Sien couldn’t recognize it.
***
Just as Sien would later master three sword styles and become a Grandmaster, Tia would master two sword styles and become a Highmaster of the family. The family sword styles she would master were the Third and Fifth Styles.
Even the future Sien had not reached mastery in the Fifth Style, the Thorn Stance. However, the Third Style was different.
[Equilibrium Stance].
The Pose of the Wraith, the Equilibrium Stance, and the Abyss Stance. These were the three sword styles of the family that would later bring Sien the title of Grandmaster.
In the fountain square where the statue of the Horseman of the Apocalypse stood, Tia kicked off the ground with the sunlight at her back.
A sound echoed. But it was no ordinary sound. It wasn’t just the noise of strength clashing against strength, but a much deeper and clearer resonance.
“A person cannot see their reflection in running water; they must look into still water,” Sien said. “Think of yourself as a clear mirror and still water, and reflect the opponent before you.”
“Can I really read an opponent’s mind just by thinking that?”
“Wow, you don’t believe me? Should we test it?” Sien asked mischievously.
“…How?”
“Attack me.”
“Godfather, you can parry an attack even without reading my mind.”
Tia replied as if she couldn’t accept it.
“What makes you think I’ll parry it?”
“Then, here I come.”
As soon as she spoke, Tia kicked off the ground. Simultaneously, the sword in her hand danced. It was a needlessly exaggerated, complex, and technical sword dance, as if she were trying to prevent him from reading her thoughts.
“Ah.”
However, at the end of the dance, Tia’s fingertips trembled in confusion. Because Sien was there, mimicking her movements exactly like a mirror, forming a perfect symmetry.
“**[HEART’S MIRROR]**.”
Sien spoke to Tia, who was blinking her eyes in surprise. “It means the mirror of the mind.”
The Equilibrium Stance was unique.
“A Master who has attained the Equilibrium Stance can use this Heart’s Mirror at will.”
In fact, there was no stance in the Nightwalker family that wasn’t unique. However, the context of the Equilibrium Stance’s uniqueness was slightly different. It was unique in the sense that it wasn’t ‘strange.’ There was no bizarre phenomenon or supernatural ability that the Nightwalker family took pride in.
A clear mirror and still water. True to its name, this stance was one that pursued the ‘orthodoxy of the sword’ to an almost stubborn degree.