Manson’s satisfaction only lasted for a moment. His heart skipped a beat the next moment, realizing he had said something he shouldn’t have. The satisfaction was short-lived, but the price he might pay for it was steep.
He gave a quick glance around and rushed away, hoping that no one would mind what he had said too much.
What he didn’t expect was to be called for a meeting just a few hours later—and by an even more unexpected person at that.
Silver Assassin Raiden sat in a simple wooden chair, his clothing prim and formal, as though preparing to attend a ball. He crossed one leg over the other as Manson walked in, looking up with a calm gaze.
The accommodations for Silver Assassins were beyond that of Bronze ones by a good measure, but Manson didn’t dare to look around and confirm. The Bronze Assassin stared right at Raiden’s feet, not looking up even once.
“I’ve heard that the Greycoat mission has been completed?”
“Uh—yes, yes.”
Manson hurried to nod, almost feeling that he was answering too slowly.
“And it’s not by Bronze Assassin Lyn?”
“A new recruit?”
Raiden raised an eyebrow. Even while sharing the same title of Bronze Mancer, not all such assassins were created equal. There were strong divisions and large gaps between them all.
The Association would only bring those who had yet to cultivate into the fold; it was the only way to weaken the possibility of spies. The largest demographic of new blood came from orphans.
The last batch of new recruits was from four months ago or so. Assuming even his own speed of progression, this new recruit couldn’t possibly have surpassed more than the Third Resonance.
“Y-yes, Silver Lord.”
Raiden chuckled at the ridiculous title but didn’t pursue it.
“How do you know this… ‘new recruit’?”
“I-I don’t know him well. I came across him as a new recruit and stole his welcome gift.”
Manson grit his teeth after explaining this. What he had done was against the rules, and there were punishments for it, but he also didn’t dare to lie to a Silver Assassin.
Plus, although he used the word “stole,” there wasn’t much resistance at all. Theron hadn’t fought back like the others and had simply handed the quota of bronzes and pills over without a word. It was such a short interaction that Manson wouldn’t have remembered it if not for how odd it was.
Most would feel dissatisfaction, unwillingness, at least a hint of anger… but Theron was like an icy well. He had fathomless depths and a frigid core.
Even today, he made no attempt at revenge, as though he had truly not cared back then.
“I see,” Raiden nodded. “I also heard that you mentioned something you shouldn’t have today.”
Manson froze, his shoulders trembling. He wanted to grip his fists, but fearing that it would be seen as a sign of aggression, his fingers splayed outward instead. It would have been a comical sight if not for already being drenched in sweat.
“I wonder… who would you have heard such a thing from?”
Raiden uncrossed his legs, recrossing them with the other on top. He leaned onto the wooden chair’s armrest, staring at Manson like he was looking at a plaything.
The answer was clear to them both. That day Lyn took the mission, Raiden and Manson had been there. What others didn’t know was that Raiden was the one who pushed his younger brother to take the mission.
Back when Raiden was a Bronze Assassin, he had wanted to take this mission as well, but his master refused. When he asked why, he hadn’t received an answer.
Since then, Raiden had been somewhat obsessed with finding out more about this, so he sent his younger brother, hoping to gain an inkling.
He knew how dangerous it would be, especially if Lyn somehow succeeded. It was just that he didn’t care. Brotherly affection was nowhere near the top of his list of priorities.
That glory should have been his, but much like Manson didn’t dare to slight him, he didn’t dare to ignore his master’s words.
Now it seemed he might find out what was so special about that mission. It had just happened in unexpected fashion.
“Where is Lyn?” Raiden asked.
“I-I-I…” Manson was so shaken by the earlier threat that he couldn’t formulate his words. What made it worse was the fact Raiden didn’t even try to hurry him, sitting there and staring with a smiling expression. “… He-he… he still hasn’t come back.”
“Hm… you may go.”
Manson scrambled away, feeling like he had just been pardoned.
Neither knew just yet that Lyn would never return, but Raiden had a suspicion. He was already wondering just who had killed his younger brother.
Could he have failed the mission and left an easy path for Theron?
Or…
Raiden chuckled. “If a new recruit was so bold, things might get interesting…”
**
Theron had long fallen into the embrace of sleep. The lines of his face looked much gentler now, painting the image of a time long past. The cold sternness was washed away, replaced by the image of a fourteen-year-old boy with delicate, yet-to-mature features and a natural state that was both gentle and playful.
Unfortunately, even Theron himself didn’t know if that version of himself would ever return. His mind was haunted by images of that day—the flashes of lightning and the last moments of his family.
He had read many books about the selfishness of humans, but it wasn’t until that day that he truly understood the extent of it.
To wipe out a family, a clan, a lineage, for no other reason than to further your strength…
The most sickening part was that he should have died with them. If he hadn’t been so hung up on his stupid books, he would have been there.
Then he wouldn’t have to suffer this pain alone.