"Alright.. Villey... send me to a villain who had a big team, something like a family... or an organization, mercenaries, assassins or whatever kind," Razeal spoke slowly this time, his thoughts unusually structured, each condition placed with intent rather than left to chance like he usually did. "But keep this in mind properly... all their strength should not exceed Great Saint rank. At most... only great saint, or around it. Not above that. Put it on random... but within that condition. With infinite villains we have am aure there must be some that fit." He paused for just a brief second before continuing, refining what he wanted even further. "Also... the whole organization should treat each member like family. Not just allies... not just tools... actual family. Loved ones. Loyalty that isn’t forced."

It was rare. Almost unnatural for him. To give such detailed instructions. As usually he never cared enough as Villey would send him wherever, to whoever, and he would deal with it.

But this time..

He needed something very specific.

]What do you want to do, host?] Villey’s voice rang back, carrying a faint confusion, not because he couldn’t understand the instructions, but because he wasn’t used to Razeal asking like this.

"Nothing special," Razeal replied plainly, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Just do what I asked." Then he added, as if remembering something important, "And make sure... all members of that organization are currently inside system space. Not scattered or Not missing... let them all be villains and present in space. Also... send me to the leader first. Or whoever that group respects the most."

There was a slight pause after that.

Then Villey spoke again, this time with clearer understanding. [Are you trying to... bring villains out of system space now?]

The question didn’t need confirmation. Because It was already clear but still it asked.

"Yeah," Razeal answered directly, without hesitation, as if it was the most natural step forward. "Why not? Isn’t that what the system is for? Before... I didn’t try because I wasn’t strong enough. And I didn’t need it. But now..." he didn’t even finish the sentence, because it didn’t need finishing.

Now.. He could actually..

[Alright then.] Villey didn’t argue or question further.

And in the very next moment

Razeal felt that familiar shift.

As his consciousness separating from his physical body like slipping through layers that didn’t exist in physical reality.. it guided through that unseen system network, passing through selections, filters, possibilities... until it settled and Stabilized.

And then

He was there.

His awareness formed completely.

While his real body remained seated inside the carriage outside, unmoving, eyes closed, as if simply resting.

[Welcome, Host, to the SS-Rank Valley of Villey.]

[Villain Title: The Gentle Assassin.]

Razeal slowly opened his eyes as the system notification floated in front of him, clear, precise, but he didn’t focus on it as he never did. His attention instead shifted to his surroundings first, because that always told him far more than any title ever could.

Still..

He did register it.

"The Gentle Assassin haa...?" he thought, a faint, almost dismissive reaction forming in his mind. The words didn’t quite sit right together. "Gentle... and assassin." He found it slightly ironic. "Not exactly a combination you expect." But he didn’t dwell on it. Titles could be misleading and never be useful.. as how usually it never is.. actually quite the opposite of it.. Not that even that mattered.

What mattered was.. Reality.

And so he looked.. Properly and Carefully.

He was currently standing in what appeared to be a courtyard.

Old and Medieval.

The ground beneath his feet was made of worn stone, uneven in places, not broken but clearly aged, as if it had seen years.. maybe decades of use. The walls around him were high, enclosing the space completely, built from the same dark stone, carrying that faint sense of weight and age that wasn’t decay, but endurance. No obvious entrance. No open gate. Just a contained area.

Closed Controlled.. And silent.

Too silent.

Not the silence of emptiness. But the silence of something that had been stopped.

Paused or Frozen.

His gaze shifted.

And then he noticed them.

Figures all around.

Dozens. Standing... or rather.. Frozen??

Stoned. Men, Women, Warriors, Guards.. Even nobles as judging from their clothing and posture. And then there were sword or maybe dagger marks on these stone figures, all very precise, and all on very fatal places.

Razeal slowly moved his gaze across the courtyard, taking in every detail without rushing, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of what seemed like night, though the darkness here did not feel entirely natural. It was quiet.. and that silence carried a strange weight, as if the place itself had been abandoned mid-breath. His attention shifted gradually until it landed on something that broke the monotony of stone and stillness.. a blossom tree, standing alone within the courtyard, its delicate petals faintly visible even in the low light. It should have felt serene, peaceful even, but in this setting, surrounded by lifeless stone figures frozen in their final moments, it only made the atmosphere more unsettling. The contrast was wrong. He didn’t know why.. it just felt weird.

Then his gaze drifted past it.

Behind the tree, partially obscured, stood a structure a house, or perhaps a resting place. The architecture seemed old, almost traditional, carrying elements that reminded him of ninja-style interiors, though he could not say for certain. It was built with intent, not decoration, its presence blending into the environment rather than standing apart from it. Nothing about this place was random. Everything had purpose

"Where are you?" Razeal murmured inwardly, his expression unchanged, his voice existing only within his own thoughts as his eyes continued scanning the surroundings. He knew the system well enough by now to understand that he would not be placed directly in front of the target. There was always distance. Always a layer of separation. Whether it was a test or simply how the system functioned, he had stopped questioning it.

After a moment, he stopped relying on sight.

Instead, he let his senses expand.

His kneen hearing first, stretching outward, catching the faintest disturbances in the air subtle shifts, almost imperceptible to anyone else. Then came his flow sensing, spreading through the space like an invisible net, tracing the structure of the environment, mapping every presence, every irregularity, every point where something did not align with stillness.

And slowly..

A faint smile formed on his lips.

"Found you," he thought. But still he didn’t move.

There was no need.

Instead, he simply turned his head slightly, directing his gaze toward a specific point within the courtyard a particular statue among many, one that appeared no different at first glance.

But just as his eyes settled on it

The presence vanished without any sound or whatever.

The figure behind the statue disappeared completely, as if it had never been there to begin with.

And in the very next instant

Without even the faintest whisper of wind cutting through the air

Razeal felt a cold sharp dagger pressed lightly against his neck from behind, the edge resting just beneath his jaw, positioned with such precision that even the slightest movement would be enough to open his throat.

"How did you locate me so fast...?" a voice came from behind him, low and quiet, carrying a strange mix of laziness and lethality, as if the speaker did not need to raise his tone to convey danger. "I was completely unseen. I even stopped my heartbeat... there shouldn’t have been any sound either."

The man stood close whispered in razeals ear.

Clad entirely in black, his form blending into the darkness, his face partially covered by an assassin’s mask, leaving only his eyes visible dark, sharp, and observant.

Razeal didn’t move.. Not even slightly.

His gaze lowered just a fraction, acknowledging the blade resting under his chin, but there was no tension in his body, no reaction that suggested fear or urgency.

"No sound?" he said calmly, a faint smile forming again. "I wouldn’t say that."

The assassin’s eyes flickered.

Just for a moment.

His grip on the dagger tightened slightly, the pressure against Razeal’s neck increasing just enough to remind him of its presence.

"Don’t move," the man whispered, his voice now closer, leaning in just enough for his words to reach Razeal’s ear directly. "And don’t try to be clever with me." There was no anger in his tone, only quiet certainty. "Believe me... I’ve killed more people than you’ve probably seen in your entire life. And many of them tried to talk like this."

"And now.. Guess how many of them survived?"

His voice remained low. Almost lazy.

But his eyes.. Were sharp and.. Focused.

Extremely Deadly.

"So.. I suggest you stay exactly as you are," he continued, his breath steady, his control absolute. "And cooperate with whatever I ask from now on."

Razeal listened.

Or rather.. He didn’t.

Because in the very next moment

He moved without warning and any hesitation.

His elbow shot backward in a clean, direct motion, aimed precisely at where the man stood behind him. The movement was fast, controlled, not reckless but intentional, a strike meant to connect without overcommitting.

But before it could land..

The space behind him emptied.

The assassin had already moved.

Gone from that position instantly, his body reacting before impact, disappearing without leaving even the slightest trace of displacement, creating distance between them in a fraction of a second.

Razeal’s strike cut through empty air.

He didn’t follow through.

Instead, he simply let his arm fall naturally, as if the outcome had already been expected.

"What a stupid action," The assassin’s voice came again, now from a short distance behind him, his tone unchanged, still carrying that same lazy edge, though his eyes remained sharp as ever. "If that had pushed me even slightly... my reflex would have been to cut your throat open immediately." He tilted his head slightly, observing Razeal’s still form. "Your blood would have followed... after your soul had already left your body."

Razeal slowly turned around as his eyes met the assassin’s directly now, taking in his full figure the black attire, the masked face, the relaxed stance that hid lethal readiness beneath it.

"I did that because I knew you wouldn’t," Razeal said simply, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "Not to mention..." his gaze sharpened just slightly, "...I didn’t sense any killing intent from you."

"Your intention wasn’t to kill me in the first place."

The assassin didn’t respond immediately.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

And Razeal continued, his tone unchanged.

"And besides..." he added, his gaze steady, "...no one can die in this space anyway."

The statement hung there.

Clear and Certain. As if it was not a guess But something he already knew too.

And as expected.

The assassin’s gaze locked onto Razeal’s eyes, unblinking sharp but there was nothing immediate for him to grasp, nothing that betrayed weakness or uncertainty, and after a brief moment of silent observation he finally spoke, his voice low yet direct, no longer circling around the situation but addressing it head-on.

"Who are you... and how did you come into this space?" There was no hesitation in his question, no distraction, because to him that was the only thing that mattered. This place.. this world had been absolute, sealed, isolated. For as long as he could remember, or perhaps far longer than memory itself could hold, it had been only him here. No entry. No exit. No change.

Just an endless stretch of existence where time had lost its meaning, where aging had stopped, where death had no place, and where even decay refused to touch anything. He had tested it. Pushed against it. Broken himself against its boundaries countless times, only to find nothing ever changed. And now.. suddenly someone stood in front of him. A person? A Real Person?

Still he remained.. composed.. Not broken by solitude, not twisted by isolation, not desperate or unstable. For someone like him, who had endured centuries alone, the mere presence of another human being should have been overwhelming. A lesser mind might have already collapsed under the weight of that realization, might have lost control, might have broken down completely. But he didn’t. His mind held. His control remained intact. And that alone spoke volumes about who he was.

"I didn’t come here with ill intent," Razeal replied, his tone calm, unhurried, as if the situation held no pressure for him at all, and as he spoke, a faint smile formed on his face, not mocking, not overly friendly, just controlled. "In fact... I came with something valuable. An offer. You could call it a deal." He watched the assassin carefully as he spoke, observing not just his reaction, but the subtle shifts beneath it the tension in his stance, the focus in his eyes, the restraint that held his killing instincts in place.

Then, without asking for permission, without waiting for agreement, Razeal moved.

He lowered himself slightly, shifting into a seated position, but before he could even reach the ground, the shadow beneath his feet responded. It stretched outward, thickened, took form, and within a moment shaped itself into a chair beneath him. Smooth. Controlled. Effortless. As he sat down, the shadow adjusted naturally to his weight, solidifying just enough to support him while still retaining that fluid darkness that defined it.

At the same time, another extension of shadow rose from the ground in front of him, forming a small table, its edges clean, its structure stable. And then, without pause, a second chair formed on the opposite side of the table, identical in shape and presence, positioned precisely for the person standing before him.

The entire setup

Calm. Almost absurdly casual.

Like two people about to have a quiet conversation over tea.

The assassin didn’t interrupt. Didn’t react outwardly. But his eyes tracked every movement, every shift of shadow, every detail of the ability being used. He didn’t miss anything. The way the shadow moved wasn’t chaotic. It wasn’t raw power. It was controlled. Refined. Intentional. That alone made it dangerous.

"Please," Razeal said, extending his hand slightly toward the empty chair across from him, his gaze steady on the assassin, inviting but not forcing. "Sit. We can talk." Then, just as the moment settled, he added with a faint, meaningful smile, "And yes... there is a way to leave this place."

That .. Changed everything.

The assassin’s expression didn’t explode into shock or anything.. But something shifted..

Deep within his eyes. Centuries of stillness.. Of isolation.. Of a world that never changed.

And suddenly

A possibility.?

So without another word, he spun the dagger in his hand once, a smooth, practiced motion, before sliding it away, disappearing it into his attire as if it had never been there. There was no hesitation after that. No dramatics. No wasted time as he stepped forward, his movements careful but not fearful, controlled as always, and lowered himself into the chair across from Razeal, his posture relaxed but ready, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

He studied him.

From head to toe.

Every detail.

Every presence.

Every inconsistency.

"What’s the price?" he asked directly, his voice steady, cutting through any unnecessary buildup. He wasn’t naive. He didn’t expect freedom to be handed to him obviously.

That be stupid to think afterall nothing came without cost. And someone who could appear in this space, sit so calmly, and speak of exit as if it were trivial.. was not someone who would offer anything for free.

Razeal’s smile deepened slightly.

He liked Straightforwardness also..

So.. Without wasting time, he placed his hand lightly over the shadow table, and in the very next moment, a contract materialized into existence above it. As if pulled from nothing, a parchment floating gently in the air before settling between them, its surface faintly glowing with the authority of the system itself.

The assassin’s eyes moved to it immediately.

As he began reading.

Word by word.

And then

He stopped.. Right at the very beginning.

"Slave contract?" he murmured, his voice low, but the shift in his expression was immediate. His eyes lifted slowly from the parchment back to Razeal, and for a brief moment, something dangerous flashed through them.. pure, unfiltered killing intent, sharp enough to cut through the air itself. If this had been the past if he had still been the person he once was.. he would have already cut Razeal down without hesitation, reduced him to nothing before a second thought could form.

But he didn’t.. Because he needed this.

Because this.. Was his only way out. The killing intent didn’t disappear though..

It was just suppressed.

Forced down.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice colder now, sharper, his gaze fixed on Razeal with a level of intensity that made it clear he was not someone who would accept humiliation lightly, no matter the situation.

Razeal didn’t react to the hostility. Nor defend himself.

Didn’t soften the truth.

"It’s not what I wanted either," he said honestly, his tone calm, without manipulation or pretense. "But if you want to leave this place... there are only two ways." He leaned back slightly in his chair, maintaining eye contact. "The first... is to sign that slave contract. A binding agreement. Where i become your owner. You follow my orders which which cannot betray me." His words were direct, unembellished.

"And the second..." his expression remained unchanged, "...is for me to release you freely."

"But that," he added, his voice steady, "is not something I’m willing to do.. and not will i."

There was no apology in that statement.

Only logic.

"As that wouldn’t be in my interest," he continued, explaining without hesitation. "And it could very easily become a problem for me later." He didn’t hide or sugarcoat it. He just spoke the truth as it was.

Because in this place.. There was no need for lies.

And honestly, he would have preferred it differently. If it were up to him, he would have removed that word entirely.. ’slave’ and turned it into something else. A contract or A partnership or whatever Something cleaner. Something easier. However the system didn’t allow that. It defined the rules, and he had to work within them. If not..

This would have been far simpler.

Instead

He was left with this.

A harsh choice...

To be presented plainly without any disguise.

"You really expect me to sign this?" the assassin finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made the air around them feel heavier, his gaze locked onto Razeal with a cold sharpness that did not waver even for a second.

"I am a Great Saint peak rank powerhouse... Standing at very top of world.. and you want me to become a slave?" A faint, cruel smile formed beneath the edge of his mask, not exaggerated, not dramatic, but filled with something far deeper pride, hardened and unbroken even after centuries of isolation. His chin lifted slightly as he spoke, his posture straightening just enough to reflect exactly what he believed himself to be.

"I may hate this place," he continued, his tone steady, almost indifferent on the surface, yet carrying an undercurrent of something darker, something restrained, "But no amount of torture... no matter how long... will ever bring me to kneel as someone’s slave." His eyes did not blink, did not shift, staring at Razeal as if the very idea itself was an insult he was barely tolerating.

Razeal watched him quietly, the reaction neither unexpected nor surprising, because he had already accounted for it long before this conversation even began. A man like this.. someone who had reached the peak of Great Saint rank, someone who had survived eight dont know how many years of isolation without losing his mind was not someone who would break easily, and certainly not someone who would accept chains, even if those chains were the only path to freedom.

Still, Razeal did not look displeased. If anything, there was a faint acknowledgment in his eyes, as if this response aligned perfectly with what he had anticipated.

"I know," Razeal replied calmly, his tone even, without confrontation or dismissal. "And I never expected you to accept it so easily." He leaned back slightly in his shadow-formed chair, his posture relaxed, his fingers resting lightly against the armrest as if this was nothing more than a normal negotiation. "But you’re focusing too much on the word... not the conditions." His gaze sharpened just slightly, not aggressively, but with intent. "The terms are adjustable. The law of this space enforces the contract, but I decide the conditions within it."

He paused briefly, letting that settle before continuing.

"You see, I need manpower right now," he said, speaking plainly, without hiding his intentions. "Someone capable. Someone reliable. Someone strong enough to actually matter." His eyes remained on the assassin. "Someone like you." There was no flattery in his tone, only assessment.

"And believe me If it were up to me, I would’ve made it a normal job contract or Something cleaner. Something that doesn’t carry this... unnecessary label." His lips curved slightly in mild annoyance. "But that choice isn’t mine."

He exhaled quietly before continuing, his voice steady, deliberate.

"So ignore the name. Focus on what it actually is." He leaned forward just slightly now, enough to emphasize his next words without appearing forceful.

"Four years." The number was spoken clearly.

"Serve me for four years. Help me with what I need to do." His expression remained composed. "After that... you’re free." No hesitation. No ambiguity. "Completely free. Out in the real world. You can live however you want." Then, after a brief pause, he added, 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Of course... don’t go around causing problems that come back to me. If you interfere with my interests, that’s different." His tone remained calm, but there was a quiet firmness beneath it. "But beyond that... your life will be yours."

He let the words settle.

"And this contract..." he continued, gesturing lightly toward the floating parchment, "is absolute. It’s enforced by this space itself. Even I cannot break it." His gaze held steady. "So when I say you’ll be free after four years... that’s not a promise. That’s a guarantee."

There was no manipulation in his voice. No attempt to soften the reality.

Only clarity.

"You can add conditions too," Razeal added, almost casually. "Anything reasonable, I can consider." His tone remained open, but measured. "We can shape it into something that works."

Then, with a faint, almost easy smile, he asked, "How does that sound?"

But behind that calm exterior, Razeal was already calculating. He had chosen carefully. A peak Great Saint, yes.. He should bring that level of villain out.. but not beyond what he could handle.

Like what if the system failed? Contractnot working? So this way even if something went wrong, he was confident. More than confident. After observing the man even briefly, he had already reached a conclusion. Strength alone did not determine everything. And this man.. despite his rank was not someone Razeal considered beyond his reach. If it came to it, he could deal with him. Easily.

Risks existed.

But he needed this. And without risk.. There would be no progress anyways.

The assassin, however, did not respond immediately. Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable as he processed everything Razeal had said. Then, after a moment, he spoke again, his tone colder this time, more probing.

"And what makes you so confident," he asked slowly, each word deliberate, "That I won’t capture you... torture you... and force you to show me how to leave this place myself?"

And here it was.

The real question. The threat beneath the negotiation.

Razeal though didn’t care.

Instead

He just smiled.

"There are several reasons actually," he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "First... I can leave this place whenever I want so.. you cant do that..." His gaze remained steady. "Second... whatever torture you’re imagining... or you can do to torture me? it won’t work.. Beleive me it wont..." No arrogance in tone—just certainty. "Third..." his smile sharpened slightly, "...I don’t need you."

He let that linger.

"I have options. Infinite ones." His eyes held the assassin’s directly now. "There are countless others who would accept this deal without hesitation." His voice dropped just slightly, quieter but more pointed. "And finally..."

A brief pause.

"This might be your only chance."

There was no need to raise his voice. The meaning was clear. It wasn’t Razeal who was desperate here.

The silence that followed stretched longer this time.

Heavier.

The assassin didn’t speak or move.

Because for the first time

The weight of the situation settled fully.

Eight hundred years.

Alone.

A world where nothing changed. Where time had no meaning. Where existence itself had become a slow, endless form of suffering.

He remembered who he was before dying.. Just.. Forty-four years old. A small rank powerhouse.

Surrounded by people.

By purpose.

By something that mattered.

And now..

Nothing.

Just this.

Endless, Unchanging.

Emptyness..

He had grown stronger here.

Yes.

But strength meant nothing.. When there was no one left to use it for.

He wanted to leave.

More than anything.

Slowly, his gaze lifted back to Razeal.. As if he had decided.

Then

He shook his head.

"No."

The word came out quietly, but firmly.

"I won’t become anyone’s slave," he said again, his voice steady despite everything, despite the conflict beneath it. "No matter the reason."

Razeal looked at him for a moment.

Then.. He smiled.

Not mocking.

Not disappointed at all.. But... interested.

Because that level of resistance.. Was just impressive.

But also very Predictable.

So he adjusted.

"What if," Razeal began slowly, his tone shifting just slightly, becoming more precise, more targeted, "I told you... I can bring your team out with you as well?"

"All of them," Razeal continued, watching him closely now. "Every member of your organization." His voice remained calm, controlled. "Under the same conditions. Four years. Work for me. Then freedom." He leaned back slightly again, one leg crossing over the other, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp.

"I assume," he added, almost casually, "As their leader... you’d want what’s best for them."

And that

Finally.. Broke the stillness.

Because the assassin’s eyes which hadn’t changed all this time.

Changed.

The laziness that had remained there throughout the conversation

Disappeared.. Replaced by something else now.

——