"Shhhh… We wouldn't want to wake them up now, would we?" a soft voice whispered. "After all, you've worked so hard to ensure no one knows you're here. Let's keep it that way, shall we?"
The voice belonged to an adolescent, not quite a man but no longer a boy. To the shadow writhing on the floor, it seemed like the voice of a monster. Quite ironic, considering their race could be considered minions of the 'dark' gods. But such was life.
The scene unfolded in an ancient castle, its grandeur evident even in the faint moonlight that seeped through the sliver of the night sky. Moonholt, the capital of the Great Empire of Lunaris Regnum, stood as a testament to architectural magnificence. It would be even more splendid when illuminated by the rise of the three moons later.
In order to infiltrate Moonholt, one had to possess exceptional stealth. Yet, all those skills seemed futile in the presence of this… this monster in human guise. What a waste! This behemoth should have been the primary target instead!
"Now, now, why don't we have a little chat?" the voice spoke again, its tone irritatingly light. "After all, you did barge in here uninvited. Please forgive my lack of manners for a moment, as I am still new to this place and may not be well-versed in all the intricacies of your kind."
The shadow, still considered an apprentice, seethed with frustration. Having spent its entire life in darkness, being toyed with by this newcomer within the shadows was unbearable. And to make matters worse, this kid wasn't even the anointed 'Hero' of Lunar, as falsely proclaimed. It was all a load of nonsense.
"Oh?" The voice seemed to have a sudden realization, causing the assassin to grow nervous. The room they were in was vast, a guest chamber meant for viscounts and the lower earls. Though not as opulent as the quarters reserved for the royals, it was still sizable and guarded
Despite being aware of the challenges posed by the high vaulted ceiling and the obstructed vision due to the opulent furniture, the shadow had already accounted for them. The problem lay in the multitude of shadows cast in the room, making it difficult to pinpoint the assassin's exact location.
The assassin's hand trembled, and the other was rendered useless, with a sliced and frozen tendon from the ice shards. Fear and regret engulfed him in that moment. He realized he was being toyed with, a realization that sent shivers down his spine.
Slowly, the assassin began to retreat, his back pressed against the wall. If he could just reach the window, he might have a chance to survive.
Or so he thought. Midway through the dark room, despite having the wall as his support, he felt his Achilles tendon sliced and frozen. Despair consumed the killer. He may have been a cold-blooded murderer, but he never toyed with his prey in this manner.
It was then that his assailant, the original target of the mission, stepped into the dim moonlight. He wore a small smile on his face, appearing even younger than his twenty years. With his sparse beard, he could easily pass for sixteen. There was an air of innocence and vulnerability about him, invoking a sense of protectiveness.
If he had possessed a more mature appearance, he would have been considered handsome. Unfortunately, his youthful features and short stature made him an easy target for those with such inclinations.
However, the shadow pitied anyone who fell for the act. This was a monster, and how anyone could perceive him as weak was beyond comprehension. Had they been deceived? Yet, their spy existed within the highest echelons, concealed even from most members of the organization. Only the leader knew their true identity.
"Chillax, my guy," the young man named Royce said. "Oh, where are my manners? Name's Royce. I'm from Earth, and I'm new to all this, so please go easy on your judgment. I came here with my friends... I mean, this trial world we've been sent to, where we can do as we please, I guess? We weren't exactly given a manual. So, yeah, you could say I'm part of the hero's party. I mean, who am I to stop them all from playing hero? Oh, listen to me rambling. Your turn. Who the fuck are you?"
Despair deepened within the shadow. He didn't want to admit it, but there was no escape. This kid was not only a monster but also a powerful mage, surpassing even the hero by a significant margin. There was only one option left. He was ready to die and was about to crack the capsule in his molar, but his teeth met a solid, steel-like barrier.
"Ouch, that must have hurt," Royce remarked. "So, don't do that. I reinforced all your teeth with my mana. Consider it remote mana control practice. It's challenging, but delicate work like reinforcing teeth is where I excel. So, talking or being flayed alive by me, healed by our healer, and going through it all again are your only two options."
Royce grinned, his expression tinged with madness. Yes, he was aware of his insanity, and now, in a world awakened to mana, he would no longer be constrained by pretense. Being a member of something aptly called the Hero's party might be bothersome, but he would endure it for the sake of his crew. They had endured enough for him, enough to earn the respect of a madman.
Besides, it would serve as a cover. Who would suspect that the party's scout was stronger than the hero?
Right what was that thing about books and covers again?