Isaac's body hit the floor with a dull thud.
The blood was still warm, pooling beneath him, soaking into the dust-covered floorboards.
For a moment, I stood frozen.
Not from fear—
From calculation.
The attack had been precise. Silent. A single strike to the throat.
Not just a murder.
An execution.
Whoever had done this was still close.
And I wasn't going to give them a chance to disappear.
Chasing Shadows
I moved.
Fast.
I kicked over the desk, sending it crashing into the nearest bookshelf. Papers flew, dust exploded into the air—chaos.
Then—
A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision.
Someone was retreating.
Through the side exit.
I bolted after them.
The door slammed open, and I emerged into the night air. The academy grounds were dimly lit by lanterns, casting long, twisting shadows.
And ahead of me—
A figure in black.
Moving too fast for a student.
A trained killer.
I gave chase.
The Rooftop Duel
The assassin was fast.
But I was desperate.
I had no training. No technique. But I had rage.
And something else—
The Manuscript.
As I ran, my fingers dug into my sleeve, gripping the book.
The pages shifted under my touch, as if reacting to the danger.
A single line burned itself into my vision:
⟡ "The hunter must become the prey." ⟡
My grip tightened.
Fine.
I stopped running.
The assassin glanced back, expecting pursuit. Instead, they saw me standing still.
A hesitation.
Then, the tiniest shift in their stance.
I had learned something crucial.
They weren't just running.
They were leading me somewhere.
Which meant they had a plan.
I let out a slow breath.
Then I did the only thing I could—
I rewrote the moment.
Flipping the Script
Instead of chasing, I cut left, vaulting over a stone railing and dropping down onto a lower rooftop.
A gamble.
If I was right—
The assassin's escape route would lead them right to me.
Seconds passed.
Then—
A blur of black fabric landed exactly where I expected.
I moved first.
No hesitation.
I threw my weight forward, tackling the assassin before they could react. We hit the stone hard, rolling.
A flash of silver—
A dagger slashed toward me.
I barely dodged, feeling the cold edge graze my cheek.
This wasn't a duel.
This was kill or be killed.
I fought dirty—grabbing their wrist, slamming their head into the stone. The assassin twisted, kicking me off, but I didn't let go.
Their mask cracked.
For a split second—
A glimpse of red eyes beneath the cloth.
Then—
"Tch."
They yanked free and disappeared into the shadows.
I lunged after them—
But they were gone.
Vanished into the night.
And all I had left was a single piece of evidence.
Their broken mask, lying at my feet.
The Real War Begins
I stood there, panting.
The Manuscript's pages fluttered in the wind.
New words appeared.
⟡ "You have seen the first assassin. But they are not the last." ⟡
⟡ "The true enemy watches from above." ⟡
I exhaled slowly.
This wasn't just a single killer.
This was a syndicate.
An entire organization operating within the academy.
And I had just put myself on their radar.