MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Anthony sat in front of his television, engrossed in a gripping TV series.

With deliberate slowness, he ate his popcorn, his anticipation mounting as the mastermind behind every intricate scheme was about to be revealed.

His excitement had reached its peak.

Though he had formed a few guesses, he dismissed them just as quickly, keeping his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the screen.

Outside, the moon hung high in the sky, casting its ethereal glow over the world, while the wind whispered through the rustling leaves, weaving a quiet symphony of the night.

A shadowy figure moved with ghostly silence, slipping through the night undetected.

With effortless grace, they leaped from tree to tree, each movement executed with flawless precision.

A deft touch brought them to a halt upon a sturdy branch, barely disturbing the leaves.

Their piercing gaze fixed upon the dimly lit room beyond the window.

Inside, their target sat, eyes locked onto the screen, his face etched with expectation.

Oblivious.

Unaware.

The figure stood at the Sovereign Rank, an echelon of power beyond the reach of many in the world.

Beneath his effortless control, mana swirled in subtle currents, a force both restrained and absolute.

Shadows coiled around him, merging seamlessly with the night until he became little more than a whisper in the darkness.

And then, he vanished.

With a movement too swift to perceive, he leaped from the branch, passing through the window like a phantom, leaving neither tremor nor trace behind.

Not even the wind stirred.

Silent as death itself, he landed on the ground.

At this moment, he was invisible, a ghost in the darkness.

An artifact had already cloaked his presence, allowing him to slip effortlessly through the Null family's formidable defenses.

To him, he was undetectable.

To him Anthony remained entirely oblivious to the impending strike, unaware that calling for his guards was now an impossibility.

The Assassin's Guild had estimated Anthony's strength to be at the Paragon Rank, an extraordinary feat for someone his age.

But it was irrelevant.

Once the guards were bypassed, the rest would be as effortless as drawing breath.

Unbeknownst to the assassin, twenty figures sat perched atop the roof of Anthony's room, his personal guards, handpicked by his parents.

They remained ever vigilant, their watchful eyes trained on him every hour of the day.

The only time they did not physically observe him was during his moments of solitude in the bath.

Now, their playful yet piercing gazes bore down upon the would be killer, amusement flickering in their eyes as he crept forward, twin daggers gleaming in his hands.

"It seems another insect has come for the Young Master's head"

One of the guards remarked, his tone laced with mild amusement as he watched the seemingly invisible assassin inch closer to Anthony.

"At this point, I think the outer guards are just letting these pests through so we can deal with them"

Another chimed in, stretching lazily.

"How do you think the Young Master will handle this one?"

A bearded man, his expression unreadable, leaned forward slightly, his voice carrying only boredom, as though this was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

They never doubted Anthony's ability to kill someone at the Sovereign Rank.

At first, it had seemed unbelievable, but after witnessing him eliminate assassin after assassin with chilling ease, they had come to understand just how monstrous he truly was.

"Won't it be the same as always? Those shadow like beings he summons will take care of it"

One of them stated matter-of-factly.

"Besides, why won't the Young Master just go into seclusion? Others his age across the world are retreating into isolation to cultivate, yet here he is, lazing around"

A woman intoned, watching as Anthony casually munched on his popcorn.

"The Young Master is a genius. The minds of geniuses don't work like ours"

A petite woman responded with unwavering confidence.

"What others struggle to achieve in seclusion, he might accomplish in a week or two of casual training"

"The Young Master is almost eighteen now. Do you think he'll follow tradition and join the military like the Patriarch and Grand Patriarch?"

A man, using a massive hammer as a pillow, spoke lazily as he lounged atop the roof.

"Well, both the Grand Patriarch and Patriarch served in the military, so it would make sense"

Another guard replied with a shrug.

"But what if he doesn't want to?"

Someone else mused.

"Among the top families of the Human Domain, the patriarchs and their heirs rarely enlist. It's usually their siblings or cousins who do. The Null family is the only exception, their patriarch has always been in the military"

"There's no point debating it"

A veteran guard interjected, ending the discussion with a tone of finality.

"In the end, the choice belongs to the Young Master"

At those words, the others simply nodded in agreement, falling silent as they turned their attention back to the spectacle about to unfold.

With blistering speed, the assassin lunged toward Anthony, his movements like a phantom cutting through the night.

The moment he struck, his invisibility shattered, revealing his presence in an instant.

His twin daggers gleamed under the moonlight, their edges reflecting a cold, merciless sheen as they sliced forward, aimed directly at Anthony's throat.

But before the attack could land, before even infinity itself could intervene, a long, double edged sword, black and blue in hue, shot upward from below, intercepting the strike with a resounding clang.

The assassin's eyes widened in shock.

'Wasn't he supposed to be alone?'

Realizing that the element of surprise had slipped from his grasp, he wasted no time, his fingers wove a rapid spell, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished once more into the shadows.

Igris emerged silently from Anthony's shadow, his presence like a specter materializing from the abyss.

His black cape billowed in the wind, and his eyes gleamed with an eerie light.

"These assassination attempts are getting a bit repetitive, don't you think, Igris?"

Anthony finally turned his gaze toward the assassin, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and mild irritation.

Igris did not speak.

He merely nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever.

The assassin, realizing that his invisibility was useless, wasted no time.

Without hesitation, he bolted toward the window, his only thought now was escape.

But it was useless.

Igris was a Swordmaster, one who lacked neither speed nor strength.

His form flickered, vanishing in an instant, only to reappear before the assassin at the window, his presence an immovable wall against escape.

There was no hesitation.

No wasted motion.

His sword rose and fell in a single, deceptively simple stroke, clean, precise, absolute.

The assassin barely had time to react, crossing his daggers in an X shape to block the attack.

It made no difference.

Igris' blade met them, and in an instant, both daggers shattered like fragile glass.

A heartbeat later, the sword cleaved clean through the assassin, splitting him in half.

Blood splattered against the windowpane, streaking it in crimson, while the floor tiles beneath became painted with the remnants of a life that had ended before it even had the chance to struggle.

Anthony watched Igris with a knowing smile.

He had to admit, there was something about Igris' swordsmanship that always screamed 'show-off'.

But at the same time, it was perfect in every literal sense.

A blend of elegance and lethality, refined to an art form.

"Well, since my movie is over and I have nothing else to do…"

Anthony mused, stretching leisurely.

"How about I pay this Assassin's Guild a visit?"

A slow, almost mischievous smile spread across his lips as he rose from his seat.

As he stood, the blood splattered on the window and tiles simply vanished.

Even the thick, metallic scent lingering in the air dissipated as if it had never existed.