It was a stormy night.
Drops of heavy rain fell upon a young man standing in front of a huge castle.
Loud noises of rain and thunder echoed in his ears. But his attention was elsewhere.
He placed a hand on his chest. The rhythmic beating of his heart sounded a little faster today.
Maybe because he was nervous? Or simply excited?
It didn't matter. Neither did the weather nor the eerie atmosphere of the castle in front of him.
Gripping the katana in hand, he walked into the mansion.
As he walked, his form merged with the shadows like a wraith, leaving nothing but a silencing echo in its wake.
The hall of the castle was spacious, with luxurious furniture adorned with gems and jewelry.
As expected of a Duke's castle.
The young man moved silently through the shadows to assess the situation.
A total of eleven guards were stationed on the floor, each holding a silver lance.
Without a moment of hesitation, he jumped out of the shadows.
One guard took notice of an irregular shape in the dark.
But he noticed too late.
Splash. Thud.
Blood splashed on the swordsman's robe and face as he mercilessly beheaded the guard.
The head fell to the ground with a dull thud.
It took a moment for the guards to realize what had just happened— but they were quick to retaliate.
"Intruder! Get him!"
A guard lunged at him with a lance aimed at his chest. He swiftly dodged and carved a diagonal red mark across the attacker's chest.
The guards swarmed him with numbers when they realized it was futile to engage one-on-one. The young man vanished, possessing one guard's shadow.
He quickly stabbed the guard from behind and ducked a double attack from two others, grabbed one by the neck, and threw him into the other.
Three guards coordinated a pincer attack, cornering him against a stone wall.
A smart move—but it wouldn't work.
He kicked off the wall and got behind them.
Blood sprayed in the dark, and three bodies lay in halves.
After witnessing this, the remaining guard realized they couldn't handle him—the merciless swordsman with silver-white hair.
Someone could have easily mistaken him for a ghost or a wraith.
But the guard never reached the door to call for reinforcements.
The sound of rain masked everything—the screams, the breath, the blood.
The man stared at the stormy weather through the windows.
The unexpected storm had actually played in his favor. The full moon was clouded, leaving only darkness.
And darkness was his domain.
Just as he was about to ascend the stairs, the ground shook with the sound of numerous footsteps.
The man held the katana tight.
Time for round two.
"You blasphemous fiend! By the name of Duke Midas, I shall punish you!"
The swordsman looked up as he heard the voice.
It was a knight in silver armor, holding a greatsword in his hand.
Must be the Duke's knight.
He looked fairly strong—but it didn't matter.
The guards descended the stairs as the swordsman sprinted upward.
They clashed in the middle.The swordsman cut through them down with ease.
The guards fell one after another, overpowered by his katana and unorthodox shadow technique.
"You!" the knight spat angrily as he charged down the stairs.
His heavy swing met the thin steel of the katana, the impact ringing with a metallic clang.
The swordsman and the knight clashed.
The runes on the knight's greatsword glowed as he gained more strength.
"How do you like that, you fiend?!" the knight barked as he pressed the blade downward.
The swordsman didn't flinch. He didn't need to.
This wasn't his first time facing such opponent.
He slid beneath the knight's legs and finished off the two guards trying to assist.
All the guards were dead.
Now it was just him and the knight.
Lightning illuminated the staircase, followed by the roar of thunder.
"Why are you doing this? What's your goal?!" the knight shouted.
The swordsman gave no response.
He was here because someone needed him—just like he had needed someone ten years ago.
But nothing mattered now.
"Are you looking down on me?!"
The knight angrily lunged at the swordsman.
The swordsman didn't strike back—he blocked.
That only made the knight angrier.
"You fucking brat! I'll kill you!"
But the swordsman wasn't blocking randomly—he was analyzing.
The knight fought in a fit of rage.
So, it wasn't hard to read his attacks and know what to parry.
The knight gripped the greatsword tight and brought it down with the full force of his massive body.
He meant to overwhelm.
But the swordsman had been waiting for that.
He parried at the exact moment—not missing even a split second.
Countering with his own force, he easily disarmed the knight.
A series of katana slashes followed.
Blood splattered beneath the knight's armor as he dropped to one knee.
In desperation, the knight raised his fist at the swordsman.
The swordsman caught it with one hand.
"Where is she?" he spoke for the first time.
The knight spat blood.
"Screw you..."
The swordsman twisted his wrist.
"Where is she?"
There was anger now. And impatience.
The knight sneered, blood on his lips.
"The Duke will not forget this."
The swordsman sighed.
The katana rose—and the stairs fell silent once again.
After slaying another wave of guards on the second floor, he made his way to the third.
The final floor of the castle.
She must be here.
The third floor wasn't as spacious as the others. Just an empty hallway without windows.
At the end was a small, locked room, flanked by two pillars.
The hallway was quiet—except for the shallow breathing of someone hiding behind one of them.
"I know you're there. Come out."
A frail-looking woman stepped out from behind a pillar. She trembled at the sight of him.
"F-Flame-," she stammered as a magic circle appeared behind her.
The swordsman sighed.
"If you don't want to meet the same end as the people below, I suggest you leave quietly."
The woman gasped, but quickly nodded and canceled her spell.
She ran past him without daring to look back.
Once she was gone, he walked toward the small room.
He tried to put on a calm face—but the heartbeat inside betrayed the face he tried to put outside.
So he forced the door open which didn't take much effort.
The door swung wide in an instant, startling the person inside.
A woman with dark hair was huddled in the corner.
Her hands were tied behind her back. Her mouth was gagged tightly with a rag.
Her eyes were wide with fear and shock at the sight of the blood-stained swordsman.
She backed into the corner in fear as he stepped closer.
The swordsman held the blade with both hands.
A sharp sound echoed in the room—followed by a deafening shriek.
And then—silence.