The Puppet Master, Mikhail.
The marionette moving at his will is no longer the Vigo Sien once knew. The abilities amplified through Mikhail’s power are on a whole different level.
It’s not just the Aura Blade in his hand that’s been enhanced.
His swordsmanship and footwork, too, have taken on a form completely alien compared to what Vigo had learned so far. The movements are precise and mechanical, impossible to even compare with what he’d shown in previous duels.
That is no longer the Vigo that Sien knows. He is now a puppet, moving exactly as the Puppet Master desires.
Taat!
Mikhail’s puppet surged forward. Right before his eyes, a blade wrapped in an aura as hard as ice swung down. It aimed to swallow the iron dagger in Sien’s hand whole.
An Aura Blade can cut through steel. Even the thick plate armor protecting the entire body is meaningless before the Aura Blade of a skilled knight. Let alone the thin blade in Sien’s grip.
That’s how it should have been.
Ka-ang!
Just then, an impossible sound rang out. The clash of blades.
”He parried it?!”
“No way!”
“Hey, not bad.”
Unlike the others, Mikhail immediately noticed Sien’s technique. It wasn’t about matching strength. At the moment their blades met, Sien diverted the weight at the tip of the opponent’s sword, sliding it outward from his own body.
“No, even if you diverted the center of the blade, against an Aura Blade…”
And Mikhail didn’t miss, even for that brief moment, the gleam of aura flickering on Sien’s blade.
“Is that the only card you’re hiding?”
He barely managed to parry the sword, but from the aftermath of the impact, Sien’s blade was already chipped. It was badly damaged.
The aura, akin to sword energy, wielded by a Sword Expert-level knight, could never overcome the Aura Blade wielded by a true master.
In contrast, Mikhail’s expression was full of composure. As if determined to test every card Sien had. He didn’t even seem to care if an ‘unexpected accident’ occurred during the process.
They were always like this. To the people of the Nightwalker Family, there were only two kinds of people in the world.
Family, and those who are not.
Sien gripped his sword handle tightly, steeling his resolve.
With half-hearted determination, there’s no way to survive. This is not some easy test. If need be, he would have to reveal every card he had hidden.
“Master Assassin—.”
After completing their baptism, every assassin of the family, without exception, is given the title of Master.
Sien was no exception. No, he was more than that.
The Father of Assassins, Sien Nightwalker, Duke of Nightwalker.
Within the long history of the family, only four heads of house since the founding ancestor Kasan had reached such heights—a great assassin, and the sole Grandmaster of his era.
Sien swung his chipped dagger. Even before Mikhail’s puppet could move.
Jwa-aak!
The blade flashed, and blood splattered. But it wasn’t aimed at Vigo. Sien had sliced his own palm with the blade.
And then—
“!”
Droplets of blood scattered in all directions, flying toward the target like a barrage of arrows.
First-rank attack magic: [Blood Bolt].
Each drop of spilled blood transformed into a crimson arrow, shooting out. It was as if dozens of archers were simultaneously pulling back their bowstrings.
The blood-red arrows streaked forward like lightning. Vigo, terrified, clenched his eyes shut. But the disaster of arrows piercing Vigo never occurred.
They merely grazed past Vigo’s cheek and ear, flying into empty air.
Thud!
Immediately, the marionette that had danced at Mikhail’s command came to a halt.
The Shadow Thread controlling Vigo had snapped.
“How…”
Mikhail’s expression twisted with shock. The Shadow Knights were the same.
“Blood magic!”
“Even if Lord Mikhail had no intention of hiding his mana, to have such accuracy…”
It wasn’t the simple elemental magic that borrowed the power of flame or wind.
The Aura Blade enveloping Vigo’s sword faded away instantly. The same with the Magical Storm that had enhanced the puppet’s body—it vanished as if it had never been.
“Haa, haah!”
Freed from the Puppet Master’s strings, Vigo fell to his knees, collapsing in exhaustion, his face pale as death.
“As expected…”
Mikhail’s expression became even colder in response to Sien’s secret technique.
“Where did you learn that magic?”
“I taught myself from the spellbooks in the mansion’s library.”
“Hmph, for someone self-taught, your accuracy and technique are far from ordinary.”
“I practiced a lot.”
Mikhail let out a dry, incredulous laugh.
The Blood Bolt Sien just unleashed, even as a first-rank spell, was nothing like what a novice who’d just started learning magic could produce.
The number of projectiles, their power, speed, and accuracy—everything about it was perfect, a flawless, battle-ready offensive magic.
“……………. I’ll ask just one last time.”
A level of proficiency that even adult mages from the Tower would struggle to reach.
“How old are you, really?”
“Nine years old.”
“Well, let’s just go with that.”
Mikhail burst out laughing. But after laughing, the smile vanished from his face as if it were a lie.
“Who taught you sword and magic, and who sent you? The Holy Empire? Charlemagne Kingdom?”
“I’m here of my own will.”
“Still trying to act innocent. In that case, I’ll just…”
—And just then.
“That’s enough.”
Fwoosh!
With the voice, black flames rose up before Sien, like a barrier to protect him.
“You’ll end up killing the child, Mikhail.”
“Isabelle, sister…”
The one who had conjured those jet-black flames between them had quietly appeared at Sien’s side.
She was a woman dressed in a velvet dress embroidered with blood-red thread. She carried the elegance and dignity befitting the daughter of a noble house.
[Black Fire], Isabelle Nightwalker.
“What do you think you’re doing, sister?”
“You need to trust the head of the family—the Duke—more.”
“You mean you don’t suspect that suspicious brat at all?”
“If Laila doesn’t suspect him, then there’s no need for us to, either.”
Isabelle chuckled softly.
“Still…”
“Wow, are you reminiscing about your own past or something?”
Isabelle giggled. Mikhail’s face hardened coldly.
“I am a proper member of the family.”
“No one said you weren’t, our lovely little fool.”
With that, Isabelle smiled and continued.
“Even if you entered the family as a spy with impure intentions, that doesn’t mean that child is the same. Isn’t that right?”
“Sister…”
“A thief is always the first to feel guilty, after all.”
Spy. At that word echoing before Sien, Mikhail’s face turned cold and ashen.
It was well-known that the Nightwalker Family took in children from the back alleys with nowhere else to go.
That very fact had led some to intentionally draw the eyes of the Children of Night in order to plant ‘child spies’ within the family.
Mikhail himself was one such spy, raised in that way. Even so, he revealed his true intentions and sincerely wished to become a true member of the family.
That determination of his, at least up to the final moments Sien could recall, remained unshaken.
“………Enough with the hysterics. Move aside.”
“Shall I show you what real hysteria looks like?”
“Wow, you talk like you never lose your temper.”
“Both of you, that’s enough.”
Right at that moment.
Following Mikhail and Isabelle, two Children of Night, yet another voice rang out.
A presence that showed itself openly, without even trying to hide, overwhelming all those who had interrupted so far. Sien, sensing its significance, quietly held his breath. The two siblings who had been snarling at each other as if ready to tear each other apart, also fell silent.
“Sister…”
“Sorry for making a fuss, Laila.”
Mikhail trailed off awkwardly, while Isabelle bowed respectfully and corrected herself.
“—No, esteemed Duke of Nightwalker.”
“It’s good to see you again, Isabelle.”
There stood the head of the family, Laila Nightwalker.
“My dear siblings of the family, as well.”
Only one voice could be heard, but the presence was not alone.
The Mother of Assassin, Laila, was joined by the entire family gathered behind her.
From boys and girls about Sien’s age, to handsome young men and women, to venerable old men with snow-white hair.
Though their aura could not compare to Laila’s, at the very least, it overwhelmed the two young siblings present.
“Donna Nightwalker.”
“Our head of house, beloved Mother of Assassin.”
The assassins of the family, in all their diverse appearances, greeted their leader with utmost respect.
“Your Grace, the Duke!”
“We pay our respects to the Duke of Nightwalker!”
Likewise, the Shadow Knights dropped to one knee, planting their swords in the ground.
“That’s enough unnecessary commotion, Mikhail.”
Chiding her younger brother’s lack of manners, Laila only offered a wry smile without further rebuke.
“With this, all the siblings who can be gathered are here.”
“Your Grace…”
As Mikhail tried to say something more, Laila gently pressed her finger to her lips, as if to say nothing more needed to be said—or tolerated.
“Now, my beloved Children of Night.”
With a gentle smile, Laila continued.
“The time has come.”
The time had come.
At the meaning of those words, the young Vigo’s face turned pale as a sheet.
“I’m ready.”
Sien spoke up from behind Vigo. His voice held not a trace of hesitation.
The long-awaited moment of the baptism had finally arrived.
***
All around was shrouded in pitch-black darkness.
That place, veiled in deep gloom, resembled a room in an ancient chapel. The gothic reliefs and arching ceilings of black and white marble created an overwhelming sense of solemnity.
Crack!
From that place came the sound of a body contorting.
Crack, crack!
Bones twisted, muscles tore, and blood gushed out like a fountain.
“Kuhuk.”
A boy collapsed onto the mosaic marble tiles, coughing up blood—dark and crimson. His skeleton twisted at grotesque angles, limbs jerking in and out as if his body were a creature all its own.
After a while.
The horrific spasms and convulsions of the body subsided. His fragile breath faded into a still silence—the sound of death.
That child had been given the name ‘Giovanni’. But like the countless others who died in the mansion, his name would be forgotten forever.
Laila, who watched over him, turned her head impassively.
She faced the siblings of the family, who stood silent in a ring around her.
“It truly is a pity.”
Laila murmured, as if regretting it, but her voice betrayed no emotion. As if she had never expected anything to begin with.
“Remove Giovanni’s corpse.”
“As you command, Your Grace.”
Soon, the Shadow Knights collected Giovanni’s body from where it lay sprawled on the marble tiles.
There was no private affection here. Most children who came to this mansion met such ends. They claimed to offer opportunity, but Hyde had long since realized that was only a hypocritical veneer.
Laila Nightwalker was a human being without blood or tears. Just like all the other Children of Night.
No, among them, she was a monster beyond comparison.
Of course, Hyde himself, who served her as lord, was in no position to criticize.
As Shadow Master, his life could not be called honorable, nor did it resemble the life of a noble knight.
Yet… even so, he could never compare to them.
And especially, not to that woman.
“Now it’s Sien’s turn.”
After clearing away Giovanni’s body, Laila issued a cold order.
“We’re ready for the ceremony.”
“Bring the child into the sanctuary.”
“At your command.”
Bowing his head, Lord Hyde signaled to the Shadow Knights.
Clank, clank—
Amid solemn silence, the sound of armor echoed as the knights moved.
Soon, the last child—Sien—appeared.
The secret underground sanctuary built beneath the Nightwalker Duke’s mansion. The founder of the family, Old Man of the Mountain Kasan Nightwalker, and the remnants of the ancient Assassin order he led.
They had come from the Eastern Continent, armed with fanaticism and zeal, but did not believe in the One God worshipped on this continent. Though now even the family’s members no longer kept the faith, the traditions and ceremonies they performed persisted.
This terrible ritual they called baptism was just such a tradition.
“Are you ready, child?”
Laila, draped in a noble robe, whispered. Sien, likewise robed for the ceremony, nodded.
“It will be a very painful ordeal.”
“I’m prepared.”
“Good.”
Laila nodded quietly, then reached into her sleeve.
A black pill.
A mysterious elixir, compounded from mercury, sulfur, gold, lead, and other secret ingredients.
Before Kasan Nightwalker, the Father of Night, settled in this land, the original assassin cult of the Eastern Continent called it Elixir of Night.
It was said that simply consuming it granted power far beyond that of any human—a forbidden sacred medicine.
“Take and eat. This is my body.”
After the family settled here and merged with the local faith, the name for it changed as well.
[Holy Host].
Then Laila offered a golden chalice, filled with a rippling crimson liquid. It was not blood, nor was it wine.
“This is the chalice of a new covenant, sealed with my blood.”
A special solvent that accelerates the absorption of the Elixir of Night. They called it [Holy Blood].
“All of you, take this chalice and drink.”
Laila placed the Holy Host in the golden chalice containing the Holy Blood.
“—This is my blood. I shed it for your sake.”
Drink. Eat. My flesh and blood.
Amidst the solemn silence, the ritual procedures came to an end.
Laila passed the golden chalice to Sien, and Sien quietly accepted it.
“—Do you wish to become family?”
The Mother of Assassin, Laila, asked quietly. It was not a formulaic question, but a gentle whisper meant only for Sien.
At her words, Sien smiled.
“I’ve always been your son.”
After smiling, Sien answered. Not daring to speak further, he silently brought the golden chalice to his lips and drank deeply.