Renard stood in the darkness, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the bow.
His eyes glowed with an eerie blue light, making him see even the pitch-black forest around him as clear as a day. Through this strange new vision, he watched as Gerald drove his dagger into the assassin's throat—burning a sharp and vivid image in his mind.
'So this is what night vision feels like.'
The ability he'd stolen from Victor —Night Vision—was even better than he'd imagined. Even in complete darkness, he could see every detail, from the leaves rustling in the wind to the blood pooling beneath the fallen attackers. No wonder he had managed to shoot so accurately from the carriage.
Though he wished he could have aimed for their heads, his young body just wasn't strong enough to fully draw the bow. Still, coating the arrows with Soul Sealer had worked perfectly.
Once struck, the assassins couldn't use their Blood Crest, making them easy targets for Gerald and the knights.
Just as he was watching the knights taking care of the remaining assassins, blue words appeared before his eyes.
[Your proficiency in using the Devoured Ability - 'Night Vision' has increased]
[You have completely devoured the ability - 'Night Vision']
'Huh?'
For a moment, confusion flickered in Renard's mind before he understood what was happening.
When he had used the 'Devour' ability on Victor, he'd stolen his Night Vision ability.
The words that describe it in his providence state were exactly these.
[Stolen Abilities: Night Vision(F)]
The current slot in the Devour ability had turned to 1/1 instead of 0/1, indicating the number of abilities he could steal.
But he didn't know why it had taken Night Vision specifically. Did Victor have other abilities? He didn't know. However, the blue words said that he could now use the Devoured ability.
Following that, he merely activated Night Vision, but it seemed like he could make even the stolen abilities truly his.
His Providence State changed before his eyes, and a change appeared.
The slot that had shown his stolen ability was now empty and was replaced with something new.
[Devoured Abilities: Night Vision(F)]
[Night Vision(F)]
[An ability that allows one to see through darkness as though it were dim daylight, though the blessing dims all colors to shades of silver and blue.]
A slow smile spread across his face as he realized what this meant - the description was more detailed than he expected.
But what truly made him more ecstatic was the fact that he couldn't simply steal abilities—he could even make his own forever.
'I can take their powers and make them mine forever!'
The possibilities made his head spin.
With this power, he could…
No.
Renard forced himself to calm his thoughts down. They were still in danger. The assassins chasing the decoys would return soon.
No maid or driver, no matter how skilled, could outrun trained killers for long. He had told them to drop the pillows disguised as himself and Aria, hoping it would give them a chance to escape with their lives.
'Please survive,' he thought, turning toward Gerald and the two exhausted knights.
"Young master… what should we do now?" Gerald asked. Despite Renard's age, they all looked to him for direction. Their carriage was destroyed, the knights were worn out, and even with horses, they couldn't outrun their pursuers.
"Gather the bodies and burn them. We will stay here," Renard said firmly, stepping toward the dead assassin leader. He needed to know who had tried to kill them.
But when he looked at the corpse, the words that appeared froze his blood.
[Name: Arnold Grim]
[Title: Vice Commander of Tiara's Castle]
Gerald stepped forward, his face pale.
"Young master… this… why is the Vice Commander…?"
Renard barely heard him.
Arnold Grim.
His mother's cousin.
His own uncle.
A bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat. Of course, he knew who Arnold was. The man had attended family gatherings, brought gifts on holidays, smiled and bowed—always playing the part of a loyal relative.
'My own blood tried to kill us.'
The truth hit Renard like a physical blow.
For years, he had blamed the Seven Houses for Aria's death and the destruction of his family. He had spent a lifetime seeking revenge against them.
Even after he returned to Draemir's Territory with Jin in his past life, he had never found the true culprit behind his sister's murder.
The Lord of Grim was too busy to care about such a matter, not to mention his heir candidate Renard was still alive. His sick mother didn't have enough power to investigate the cause of the incident, and so the truth was buried just like that and soon forgotten.
But now, he knew.
The first betrayal, the one that started it all, had come from within. From his own kin!
"Gather the other bodies," Renard ordered, his voice cold enough to freeze even fire.
Gerald hesitated for a moment. He couldn't begin to imagine what was going on in the young master's head right now. But he only hoped that Renard had the strength to face it all.
As the knights moved to take care of other bodies, Renard reached for Arnold's corpse, his hand trembling—not with fear, but with rage.
It was time to take everything his dear uncle had to offer.
The night wasn't over yet.
_____
Not everything in life goes according to one's plan.
Sometimes, even the most carefully laid schemes can crumble, forcing you into a corner.
That was exactly where Renard found himself now.
Using the smoke as a beacon for Jin had been a gamble—it could just as easily have drawn the assassins straight to them. But with Jin's location unknown and assassins on their trail, it had seemed like their best option.
Yet even the best plans can fail.
Renard and his exhausted knights had barely caught their breath when they heard the sound of approaching hooves.
The assassins had arrived before Jin!
The knights didn't wait for orders. Though their hands trembled and their bodies ached, they raised their swords and formed a protective wall in front of Renard.
"Young master," Gerald turned back, his voice heavy with worry. "Please hide. Let us handle this."
Renard remained silent, his eyes fixed on the approaching figures. The assassins' silhouettes emerged through the haze, their horses moving with deadly purpose. The rising smoke had clearly unsettled them.
"Hand me a sword, Gerald," Renard said quietly.
The knights exchanged nervous glances.
"Young master," Mathis protested, "these are trained killers. You should-"
"Hiding won't save me," Renard cut in. "Look at them. They're not here for you. They want me—and Aria."
Gerald's fingers tightened around his sword. "But, young master-"
"Can you protect me, Gerald?" Renard's words were soft but sharp enough to wound their pride.
"Can you fight off these assassins and guarantee my safety?"
The knights' silence was answer enough.
They knew their limits. They couldn't even protect themselves, let alone their young master.
Renard's lips curled into a bitter smile.
"That's what I thought." He met Gerald's gaze. "If I hide, they'll ignore you and hunt me down. I won't let that happen. The sword, Gerald."
Reluctantly, Gerald handed over his spare blade—a longsword almost too heavy for Renard's small frame. He adjusted his grip, finding his balance.
Soon, six assassins approached, their eyes gleaming like cold steel beneath their hoods. Their leader raised a hand, bringing the group to a halt. The group then surveyed the burning corpses, rage simmering beneath their controlled expressions.
"You've got nerve," the assassin's words cut through the air. "Do you know who you've killed?"
"Scum who tried to murder children," Renard replied evenly, raising his borrowed sword. "They got what they deserved."
The leader sneered, drawing his weapon. "Brave words from someone hiding behind knights. You think they can protect you?"
Instead of answering, Renard stepped in front of the knights. The sword pulled at his arm, but he held firm.
"Stay behind me," he ordered the knights without turning. "If anyone gets past me, kill them."
The assassins charged, their blades catching the firelight.
Renard exhaled slowly, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wasn't foolish enough to let their taunts enrage him.
He may not have his past life's strength, but his knowledge and experience remained. And against these small-fry Essence realm assassins, that was more than enough.
As the first horseman struck, Renard moved like water. He sidestepped the blade aimed for his neck and twisted unnaturally. His sword found the horse's flank, sending the mount and the rider tumbling.
In one fluid motion, Renard repositioned his blade.
The sword pierced the falling assassin's skull with surgical precision. Blood sprayed across Renard's face and clothes as he withdrew the blade.
The body crumpled, its head nearly severed.
Everyone froze—assassins and knights alike, all staring at the little boy in shock.
Only Renard remained unmoved, his gaze already fixed on his remaining opponents.
"One down," he said coldly. "Five to go."
一一✽✽✽一一