Long before the end of the world, Sharpoon City was a place of rigid structure and dark ambitions. It was a city where the Higher-Ups, an elite council of shadowy figures, controlled a network of assassins bred and trained to serve their will. Grimar was born into this cold and merciless system, destined from birth to follow its grim path.
From a young age, Grimar endured grueling training under his assigned master. Days were filled with stealth drills, precision gun training, close-combat exercises, and lessons in magic. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, magic was something he didn't have. It set him apart, a flaw in a world that demanded perfection. Other children mocked him relentlessly, their taunts and scorn leaving him isolated.
He spent many lonely nights imagining a different life, one untouched by violence or cruelty. A life where he could be free of expectations, free of the pain that shaped him.
At the age of 26, Grimar's master—a man who had guided him through his darkest days—succumbed to wounds from his final mission. In his dying breath, the master said, "I wish I could have lived a normal life, Grimar." Those words haunted Grimar, planting the seed of doubt that would grow in his mind over the years.
Time passed, and Grimar rose through the ranks, becoming an assassin of great skill and reputation despite his lack of magic. By the age of 35, he had been tasked with training the next generation of assassins. He poured his skills and knowledge into his students, watching them grow under his guidance. Yet, the missions always came, and with them, the deaths of many of his protégés.
Each loss cut deeper into his psyche, unraveling his loyalty to the system that had raised him. He began to question the life of an assassin but his top student would always be by his side supporting him the whole way.
When the time came for the next rise of assassins, Grimar made a fateful decision. Sneaking into the Higher-Ups' most guarded building, he infiltrated the nursery where newborns, handpicked to become assassins, were kept. Row upon row of tiny, innocent lives lay in sterile cribs, their futures already decided.
Grimar moved silently among them, whispering to himself, "I wish I could save you all... but I don't have time." He stopped at one crib, drawn to a baby who reached out to him with tiny, chubby hands and a bright smile. The innocence in that smile struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Without hesitation, Grimar scooped the baby into his arms. Alarms blared as the system detected his presence. Clutching the child tightly, he donned his mask and fought his way out, evading the Higher-Ups' forces in a desperate escape.
After days of relentless pursuit, Grimar finally reached a remote village far away from Sharpoon City. There, in the dead of night, he approached a modest farmhouse. Placing the baby gently on the doorstep, he knocked once and disappeared into the shadows.
From a distance, he watched as the farmers opened their door and gasped at the sight of the baby. Their expressions softened as they brought the child inside, promising a life far removed from the horrors Grimar had known.
Grimar turned and walked away, his heart heavy but resolved. He had saved one life, and perhaps, in doing so, had begun to reclaim a fragment of his own humanity.
Grimar returns to Sharpoon City under the cover of night, weary but resolute. He discards his mask in an unremarkable alley, letting it clatter into the shadows among the trash. When he returns to his chambers as moments later, an alert echoes through the compound, summoning every master assassin to the grand hall.
The Higher-Up Council, composed of six formidable leaders, stands at the head of the hall. Their presence alone suffices to silence the thirty assembled master assassins, who exchange uneasy glances. The council reveals their purpose: there is a traitor among them.
One of the leaders, Baso, steps forward, his voice sharp as a blade. He declares that one of the master assassins stole a child from the assassin nursery. To prove the accusation, Baso plays grainy footage of the incident, showing a masked figure fighting off waves of guards with one hand while carrying a baby in the other.
The room grows tense as Baso speaks: "These moves, this precision, were taught to our assassins and only a master assassin is able to pull this off. I may not know your motives, but know this—you cannot break the system. We will find you, and we will kill you for this betrayal."
Baso claps his hands once, and with military precision, one hundred newly trained assassins land behind him, their presence a chilling reminder of the system's reach.
"Traitor," Baso commands, "step forward. Spare your comrades the consequences of your actions. If you don't, we will have no choice but to kill all of you."
The thirty master assassins are immediately thrown into chaos. Accusations fly like daggers.
"Who is it?! Come out now!"
"You're the traitor, aren't you? You've been avoiding the high-risk missions!"
"It's not me! Stop pointing fingers!"
Grimar's heart pounds. He struggles to remain calm, knowing the consequences of stepping forward. His guilt weighs heavily on him, but he cannot allow the life he saved to be in vain.
Baso raises his hand, signaling the one hundred assassins to advance. Just as blades are drawn, a flash of motion disrupts the scene. Among the army of assassins, Grimar's top student leaps forward, his blade aimed not at the masters but at Baso himself.
Gasps ripple through the room as the assassin takes out a mask—Grimar's discarded mask.
"It was me," he announces, his voice steady despite the danger. "I only wished for a normal life for that child."
Shock ripples through the hall. Grimar feels his breath catch in his throat. It isn't him standing there—it's his top student, a prodigy who had excelled in every aspect of the system's rigorous training.
The young man turns to the thirty master assassins and smiles softly. "I'm sorry for involving you all. I was already on the path to becoming a master, but I chose a different path."
Baso's laughter breaks the tension, cold and mocking. "Of course, it would be you," he says. "Our top student. Only you—or a master—could have pulled this off."
Without hesitation, Baso snaps his fingers. Magic blades pierce the young man's body from all directions, cutting him down in an instant.
Grimar's heart shatters as he watches his protégé fall, he clenches his fists but keeps his composure, knowing that showing emotion would reveal the truth.
Moments later, Grimar steps into Baso's chamber, summoned alongside several other master assassins. The room is dimly lit, Baso's imposing figure casting a long shadow over them. His gaze pierces each one, but it lingers on Grimar.
"You were the master of our top student," Baso says, his voice measured but sharp. "Surely you know his ways better than anyone. If anyone can retrace his steps and locate the missing child, it's you."
Grimar nods silently, his expression unreadable. He knows refusal isn't an option. Alongside the other masters, he sets out to track the child.
Years went by as the child remains elusive. Grimar intentionally sabotages the search where he can, feeding misleading information or misdirecting the group to ensure the boy remains hidden. But his actions come at a cost—time runs out, and the mission is marked as a failure.
The assassins are summoned back to Baso, whose fury is evident in his every word.
"Even you," Baso growls, glaring at the masters, "the best of our kind, couldn't find a mere child. Perhaps our top student truly was a greater assassin than we gave him credit for—his tracks are untraceable even to the likes of you."
With a dismissive wave, Baso delivers his judgment: months of excruciating punishment. Grimar and the others endure brutal torment, their strength and will tested to the brink of death.
When the punishment phase finally ends, Grimar stumbles out of the cells, his body battered and his resolve unshaken. As he leans against a wall to catch his breath, he mutters to himself, "No matter what, I'll make sure that child lives the best life possible."
Grimar resumes his role as an assassin, completing missions with cold efficiency to maintain his cover. However, every few months, he makes the perilous journey back to the small, distant village where the child—Charlie—was raised by kind farmers.
From the shadows, Grimar watches as Charlie grows, his bright smile and warm demeanor stark contrasts to the cold, deadly life Grimar has known.
At age 14, Charlie becomes the first in the village to manifest magic, mastering basic spells with surprising ease. Grimar feels a pang of pride watching the boy cast his first fire spell.
"He's growing stronger," Grimar whispers to himself. "Even becoming a magic user."
By age 17, Charlie discovers a unique ability that sets him apart from other magic users: the power to nullify any magic inside of a magic user just as long as he comes into contact with them. His newfound ability stuns the village elders, who speak of it as a gift unlike any they've seen before.
One fateful evening, Grimar watches from the treeline as Charlie defends the village from a rogue magic user. The enemy's spells fizzle and fade the moment Charlie hits them, leaving them defenseless against the boy's counterattacks.
Grimar feels an immense sense of fulfillment but also dread.
"He's special," Grimar murmurs, clutching the hilt of his blade. "The kind of special that will make him a target."
Grimar knows it's only a matter of time before word of Charlie's abilities reaches the wrong ears. His vow to protect the boy solidifies, and he quietly prepares for the day the higher-ups—or worse—will come to reclaim what they believe is theirs.
Moments later, Grimar stands in the dimly lit chamber, surrounded by his fellow master assassins, all of them weary from years of servitude but sharp as ever. Baso's voice echoes with authority as he delivers the grim news:
"I've sent scouts and spies to verify the rumors about this so-called 'magic farmer,' Charlie," Baso begins, pacing slowly before the group. "They speak of a child blessed by the gods, the one who protects the farmland and its people. Sound familiar? Of course it does. He's our missing child."
A tense murmur ripples through the room. Grimar keeps his head low, his expression impassive, though his heart pounds in his chest.
"We higher-ups decide which children become an assassin," Baso continues, his voice growing colder. "This boy's resemblance to one of the chosen parents confirms it. It's him You are to retrieve him. Offer him a chance to return to the system. If he resists..."
Baso pauses, his piercing gaze sweeping the room.
"...kill him."
The room falls silent. The weight of the order hangs heavily in the air.
Baso then raises a hand, his expression turning grim. "A word of warning: this boy possesses a unique ability. If he touches you, your magic will be nullified. You'll be vulnerable. But we have an advantage..."
His eyes lock on Grimar, the lone master assassin who has never relied on magic.
"Grimar, you've always been our most resourceful. You, of all people, are uniquely suited to handle this task. If it comes to the worst, you'll lead the strike to eliminate him."
Grimar bows his head slightly, hiding the turmoil beneath his calm demeanor. "Understood," he replies, his voice steady.
The sun rises over the tranquil village, casting a warm glow on the simple homes and lush fields. At the front gates stands Charlie, a young farmer with a strong sense of duty and a burgeoning magical talent. A group of stern men approach him, their expressions serious and voices unwavering as they reveal startling truths about his origins.
Charlie looks at them thoughtfully, a mix of confusion and determination in his eyes. "Maybe it was God's plan for me to get away from you guys and protect this village. Thanks, but I'd rather live out my years here as a farmer."
The men draws their weapons, intent on enforcing their will, but Charlie is ready. His hands glow with magical energy as he swiftly defends himself, effortlessly neutralizing each attacker with precise bursts of magic. The farmers, inspired by Charlie's bravery, join the fray, turning the tide against the relentless assailants.
In the nearby forest, Grimar and fifty other assassins watch the confrontation unfold, their presence concealed by the dense foliage. Grimar's heart races as he signals his team to advance, the memories of his past tugging at his conscience.
The battle intensifies as Charlie and the farmers defend their home with unwavering resolve. Grimar steps onto the battlefield, torn between duty and emotion. Unable to suppress his feelings, he engages the assassins with unmatched skill, cutting down foes one after another. His actions astonish by Charlie and the farmers.
As the last assassin falls, Grimar removes his mask, revealing his true identity and explains everything. "Charlie," he says, his voice heavy with emotion, "I owe you everything."
Charlie steps forward, embracing Grimar tightly. "Thank you for giving me this life," he whispers, tears welling in his eyes.
Grimar looks around, sensing the impending threat. "Everyone here should run away. The Higher-Ups will send a stronger team of assassins. We can't hold them off for long."
But Charlie and the farmers refuse to abandon their land. "We choose to stay and defend our homes," Charlie declares, his resolve unshaken. Grimar nods, understanding the depth of their commitment. He stands beside them, knowing that they are no match for them but regardless he wants to spend time with Charlie.
Weeks pass as Grimar integrates into the village life, savoring the normalcy he never knew. He and Charlie grow close, sharing stories and building a bond forged through shared struggles and mutual respect. Grimar finally experiences the peace he had long yearned for.
However, tranquility is short-lived. The Higher-Ups, enraged by the failure to retrieve Charlie, dispatch a formidable team of assassins to obliterate the village and eliminate the traitor within their ranks. One fateful night, the invaders descend upon the village with ruthless efficiency, leaving destruction in their wake.
Grimar and Charlie fight valiantly to protect their home, but the overwhelming force of the Higher-Ups' team proves too much. The village burns as Grimar barely escapes with Charlie, fleeing into the deep forest. Charlie succumbs to his grievous wounds.
Grimar collapses beside him, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry, Charlie," he sobs, cradling the boy's lifeless body. "I promised I'd protect you, and I failed."
Determined to honor Charlie's memory and driven by an unyielding thirst for vengeance, Grimar vows to dismantle the Higher-Ups and avenge the lives lost.