Chapter 94: No mercy
The crimson flare blossomed high above the endless canopy, lingering for a moment before melting into the morning sky.
The final examination had officially begun.
Candidate Number Four ghosted through the dense forest.
Every step was deliberate. Every breath was a measured release. His eyes swept across the surroundings, scanning every bush, branch, and patch of shadow.
Eight years of training had taught him one absolute truth: the greatest danger wasn’t the beasts lurking in the brush. It was the other candidates.
He tightened his grip around the cold handle of his dagger.
Stay calm...
Find a hiding place first...
Let the others kill each other...
He stepped over a rotting log—
SNAP!
His eyes widened.
"What—?!"
Before a defense could cross his mind, a rough grip clamped around his ankle. A thick vine, buried beneath the dead leaves, coiled tight against his skin.
WHOOSH!
The snare pulled taut with a violent jerk.
"AAAAH!!"
The forest floor blurred as the trap yanked him into the air. In a heartbeat, he found himself hanging upside down, dangling twenty feet above the dirt. His fingers gave way. The dagger slipped from his grasp, swallowed by the dense undergrowth below.
"Damn it!"
He thrashed against the binding, clawing at his own leg to break free. Yet the harder he fought, the deeper the vine bit into his ankle. His chest heaved against the rush of panic.
A trap...
Someone set a trap...
His wide eyes darted across the canopy.
Then, the air hitched in his throat.
A mere arm’s reach away, another body hung from a thick branch, swaying with the breeze.
Candidate Number Nine.
A gaping wound stretched across his throat from ear to ear. Fresh crimson drops fell from the cut. His lifeless eyes remained wide open, fixed in a dead stare toward the trapped boy.
"N-No..."
The color drained from Number Four’s face. He opened his mouth to scream for help.
Before the sound could form, a shadow dropped from the upper branches. The figure landed on the wood right behind the snare, making no sound at all.
The trapped candidate’s pupils shrank. He caught just a fraction of a second’s glance at a cold pair of eyes. A glint of steel flashed across his vision.
SHHK!
A razor-sharp blade swept across his neck. His scream died in his throat. Blood sprayed into the air, raining down onto the forest floor.
The killer grabbed the boy’s shoulders to steady the swinging body, watching with dead-eyed focus as the light faded from the victim’s gaze. Only when the final twitches ceased did the figure let go.
The fresh corpse hung upside down next to the first victim. Two bodies now swayed among the branches.
The masked figure crouched on the thick tree limb beside them, dragging a rag across the wet blade. He checked the wristwatch strapped around his arm.
Candidate Number 1.
The boy beneath the black mask was Leo. His expression remained unbroken.
"Two down..."
"Six left."
"Lia, stay safe... I am coming soon."
The forest settled back into stillness. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, scattering patches of gold across the damp earth.
Several hundred meters away, Lia navigated between the trees without making a sound.
Unlike Leo, she carried no sense of rush. Every few steps, she paused. Her sharp gaze picked apart the surrounding terrain, reading the broken branches, footprints, disturbed leaves, and the bent direction of the grass.
Eight years of assassin training had pounded one rule into her mind: information meant the difference between life and death.
Her right hand rested near the throwing knives concealed up her sleeve. Her left hovered close to a small leather pouch on her belt.
The pouch held dozens of slender steel darts, each tip coated in a fast-acting paralytic poison. It wasn’t potent enough to kill. But it was more than enough to stop a fight.
Lia halted mid-step. Her eyes narrowed.
Footprints. Fresh ones. The dirt was still settling.
Someone had passed through less than a minute ago. Instead of trailing right behind, Lia arched her path around the tracks, blending into the dense bush for cover.
Within moments, she spotted her target.
A young man advanced through the forest. His sword was drawn, his head pivoting at every rustle of the wind.
Candidate Number Three.
Lia observed him from behind a thick tree trunk. She held her ground. She waited.
The candidate paused beside a fallen log, then crouched to examine something in the dirt.
His attention shifted downward. His stance relaxed.
Lia saw her opening. With a flick of her wrist—
Whoosh!
A tiny black dart cut through the air.
Pfft.
The needle buried itself into the side of the candidate’s neck. He spun around, clapping a hand to his skin.
"What—"
The word caught in his throat. A heavy, creeping numbness washed over his limbs. His fingers went slack, and the sword clattered to the dirt.
"N-No..."
He pushed his weight forward, trying to force another step. His legs refused to obey. The paralysis took hold, locking his muscles in place. Soon, only his eyes could move, wide and trembling with fear.
Lia stepped out from the cover of the tree. The candidate stared at her in horror.
"You..."
He forced the word out, his tongue turning thick and sluggish.
Lia stopped a few feet away. No excitement or cruelty touched her features. Her expression was empty of malice.
"I’m sorry."
A throwing knife slipped into her palm.
Swish.
A silver streak flashed across the forest shade.
Shhk!
The blade sliced cleanly across his throat. The candidate’s eyes widened one last time before the light within them faded away. His stiff body collapsed heavily onto the forest floor.
Lia caught the dropping knife in mid-air, keeping it from burying into the dirt. Crouching beside the corpse, she pulled a clean cloth from her pocket and wiped the blade spotless before returning it to its hidden sheath.
Her gaze drifted toward the wristwatch on the dead boy’s arm.
Candidate Number 3.
She looked up at the endless woods stretching before her. A flicker of worry broke through her steady composure.
"Big Brother..."
"I hope you’re safe."