The battlefield was quiet now.
Ash drifted like snow. Swords were cracked, fists bruised, breaths heavy. The concept wraiths had been defeated—or at least, driven off. For now.
The test administrator, calm as ever, stepped forward. His voice cut through the silence like the wind before a storm.
"If you've been given a badge… congratulations.You're now official. An assassin. Licenses and certificates will come soon."
That was it. No fireworks. No applause. Just quiet acceptance and the cold weight of reality settling in.
Only sixteen badges were handed out.
The other five? Left standing in the dust, eyes wide, hearts sinking. No complaints though. Just silence. The kind that stings more than shouting ever could.
Neo stared at the metal badge in his hand, fingers trembling a little. It was heavier than he thought it would be. He had it. He passed. But something still tugged at him.
"How do I actually master Metro?" he asked, voice soft but serious.
One of the administrators looked at him, half-smiling, half-knowing.
"You've got to find the balance.Between what you believe… and what's real.Some people just get it. They're born with that spark. No consequences, no struggle.But for most of us? It takes time. Pain. Reflection. You'll learn. Eventually."
Neo nodded, trying to take it all in.
Then, as if on cue, Shiro bumped his shoulder from behind, his usual cocky grin back on his face.
"Man, that was too easy.What now, huh? We get hunted by gods?Or do we go get some ramen first?"
Neo let out a small laugh. Tired. Relieved. Still thinking.
"Let's see what comes next."
A couple of days passed. The buzz from the last test had died down, but something lingered—like the quiet before a storm.
Shiro was home, tossing a ball against the wall, bored out of his mind. That's when a knock hit his door. Not loud, not soft—just... intentional.
He opened it. Some guy in a long coat stood there, face half-covered by a hood. No name. No intro. Just handed him an envelope and a sealed certificate.
Inside: his first mission.
No partners. No backup.
Shiro didn't even flinch. He grabbed his two pistols, the ones that had saved him more times than he could count, and slipped his pocket knife into his boot.
No dramatic goodbye. No deep thoughts.
Just him. A target. And a path.
Meanwhile, over in Neo's part of town, the air felt a little heavier.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the mission letter in his hand. His first task was simple on paper—deliver a message to some old guy living way out east in Tasved, a city that hugged the border of his hometown.
Sounded easy. But Neo knew better. In this world, even a delivery could spiral into something twisted.
He packed light. Just a satchel, a water flask, and that message sealed tight. Slid it into his jacket like it was gold.
Before stepping out, he looked in the mirror, just for a second. No speeches, no "you got this." Just a breath.
Then he walked.
Not because he was ready. But because it was time.