[Welcome to the Assassin System.]
[Your vengeance begins here. Prove yourself worthy.]
For the one-millionth time that day, Mako blacked out.
The darkness came like a wave, folding over his consciousness, pulling him under. When he awoke, the world hit him like a hammer. His body screamed in agony, every muscle and nerve alive with pain. He gasped, sharp and shallow, as his senses returned in a disoriented blur.
It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, and when he did, a single, chilling realization gripped him.
"I was dead," he muttered to himself, the words falling heavily in the silence. His throat felt raw, like sandpaper scraping over stone. "And I found a system… an assassin system."
Mako tried to sit up, groaning as he forced his body to comply. The sharp, oppressive air around him bit at his skin. His eyes darted around the room, adjusting to the dim, flickering light. What he saw made his breath hitch.
"I'm in prison!" he exclaimed, the words echoing off the cold, gray walls.
The room was small and suffocating, its walls rough and stained with streaks of grime, as if the years had clawed at them without mercy. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, its faint, yellow light struggling against the gloom. It flickered occasionally, throwing jagged shadows across the floor.
In one corner, a scratched metal bucket sat, its purpose unmistakable and grim. The stench of sweat and despair hung heavy in the air, curling in Mako's nostrils and making his stomach churn.
The barred door stood resolute, letting in a faint glow from the corridor outside. Beyond it, the sound of distant footsteps echoed—sharp, deliberate taps that seemed to carry a weight of authority. Occasionally, the clanging of metal against metal punctuated the silence, a sound that sent a shiver down Mako's spine.
As he took in his surroundings, a sense of unease settled over him. This was no ordinary prison. It felt like a place where hope came to die.
It was then that Mako's gaze shifted to the other occupants of the cell.
The cramped space held three men, each so distinct that it felt as if fate had chosen them to be here together.
The first man was muscular and of average height, his presence commanding attention. Broad shoulders strained against the thin fabric of his uniform, and his arms, thick and powerful, bore the scars of countless battles. His square jaw and permanent scowl gave him a menacing air, like a wolf in a cage. His knuckles were rough and scarred, evidence of a life lived through fists and fury. He moved with a deliberate slowness, each motion heavy with unspoken warning, as if daring anyone to challenge him.
The second man was slimmer but no less dangerous. His wiry frame seemed coiled with a tension that hinted at speed and precision. His face was sharp and angular, with piercing eyes that glinted with cunning. Tattoos marked his arms and neck, twisting into patterns that seemed both chaotic and calculated. He leaned casually against the wall, his posture relaxed but his gaze ever watchful. There was an unsettling calmness about him, like a blade waiting to strike.
The third man was the most unassuming of the trio. Short and slim, he had a gentleness about him that felt entirely out of place in the grim cell. His soft, round face and wide, almost innocent eyes gave him an air of vulnerability. He sat quietly on the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly in his lap, as if he were merely a visitor here. Yet, something about his stillness was unnerving. It was the quiet of deep waters, hiding untold secrets beneath the surface.
Mako's throat went dry as he took them in. He had no memory of how he had ended up here, but the reality of his situation was sinking in fast. Whatever this was, it wasn't a dream.
Just then, something flickered in his vision—a faint glow that grew brighter until it solidified into a hologram.
[Name: Lucian Stone]
[Rank: Initiate]
[XP: 10/100]
[Quest: Escape the prison]
[Skills: None]
Mako blinked, staring at the glowing text as his mind raced.
"So this is the system," he muttered under his breath. The words felt foreign, as if spoken by someone else. He stared at the name displayed before him. Lucian Stone. The name felt strange, yet familiar, like a coat he hadn't worn in years but still somehow fit.
The word Initiate caught his eye. He didn't know what it meant or how far it was from whatever the top rank was. But he didn't have time to dwell on it.
Movement stirred around him, drawing his attention.
His exclamation and sudden movements had not gone unnoticed. His cellmates had shifted, their eyes now fixed on him with predatory intent.
The muscular man straightened, cracking his knuckles with an audible pop that reverberated through the room. His scowl deepened, and he took a step forward, each footfall heavy with menace.
The wiry man pushed off the wall, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous grin. His piercing eyes seemed to dissect Mako, calculating the best way to break him.
Even the short, gentle-looking man stirred. His wide eyes narrowed slightly, and his hands unfolded from his lap. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if peeling away the facade of innocence he wore so well.
Mako's heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the tension thickening in the air, pressing down on him like a weight. He was cornered, fresh meat in a den of wolves.
The system's words lingered in his mind: Prove yourself worthy.
This was no coincidence. The quest, the cellmates, the prison—everything had been orchestrated to test him. He didn't know how he'd survive, but one thing was certain. If he failed, this grim prison would be his grave.
Forcing himself to his feet, Mako—Lucian—readied himself.
The screen before his eyes glowed faintly.
[Side quest: Survive opponents attack]
Lucian looked around him for anything he could use to fight, then it dawned on him… he had no weapon.