This is a brutal moment. Arya lay on the cold floor, unable to move. His body trembled from shock and pain, both arms lost. His vision had faded the moment his mask shattered—now, he couldn't even see. All he could do was listen.
He was near death.
Heavy footsteps echoed toward him. Slow. Powerful. Each step sent vibrations through the stone. The Shadow Orcs were coming.
His face was drenched in blood, warm and sticky. He tried to make a sound, to speak—to cry out—but his throat refused to work. Even breathing felt like torture.
This is the end.
His mind drifted. A blurry memory surfaced.
Sorry… sister.
His heart ached more than his broken body. He had failed her. He had fought, survived, clawed his way through death—only to die here, alone.
The Shadow Orcs loomed over him. One, larger than the rest, stood at the front. A massive steel war hammer rested in its hands. It stepped closer. Arya could feel its presence towering over him.
Then—
The orc raised its hammer high. Both hands gripped the handle. The air shifted with sheer force as the weapon reached its peak.
Arya didn't even have time to think.
BOOM!
The steel hammer came crashing down.
A sickening crunch echoed through the hall. Blood splattered across the stone floor. Arya's head was gone.
His lifeless body twitched once. Then—nothing.
But as the blood sprayed into the air, a single drop landed—
—on the black mask.
99 heard the distant sound of Arya's final moments—the sickening crunch of bones, the splatter of blood—but he didn't stop. He didn't look back. He just kept walking, his steps echoing through the dark corridor.
Then, everything went black.
Arya's consciousness drifted in an empty void, a place where time and space seemed meaningless. For a moment, there was nothing—no pain, no sound, no sensation.
Then—light.
A sudden flash blinded him, forcing him to rub his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing on solid ground, staring at a breathtaking sunset. The sky was painted in warm hues of orange and gold, stretching endlessly over a vast, calm ocean. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin.
Arya looked down at his hands.
Both were there. Whole.
He flexed his fingers, barely able to comprehend it. But I… I died. He touched his face. No mask. No blood. Even the cursed mark on his hand was gone.
"Am I in heaven?" he whispered.
Then, a voice called from the distance.
He turned.
Far ahead, near the water's edge, a young man sat on a lone chair, gazing out at the sea. His back was to Arya, making it impossible to see his face.
Arya felt an unexplainable pull toward him. He took a step forward.
But the moment he moved, the distance between them grew.
Confused, he tried again. Another step—yet the man seemed even farther away.
He broke into a run. The gap only widened.
Panting, he stopped, frustration and exhaustion settling in. What is this place? What's happening?
Then, the young man finally spoke.
"Don't come any closer."
His voice was calm, yet firm. It held an undeniable weight, as if defying it would be a mistake.
"If you try to reach me, you never will," the man continued. "So stay where you are and listen."
Arya swallowed hard, forcing himself to obey.
"Before you ask anything," the man warned, "don't. No questions like 'where is this?' or 'who i am?' Just listen."
Arya clenched his fists but nodded.
"I can bring you back to life," the man said.
Arya's breath caught. "What?"
"I said—no questions."
Arya bit his tongue.
"But," the man continued, "if you want to live again, you must do exactly as I say."
A long silence followed.
Arya's mind raced. This didn't feel like a dream, but it wasn't real either. Was this some kind of test? A punishment? Or… was it truly a second chance?
The man's voice softened. "When I look at you, I see myself."
Arya stiffened.
"You're just like me," the man said. "And you have no other choice."
Arya's heart pounded. "Why do you care?"
The man ignored the question.
Instead, he spoke of things only Arya should have known.
"You live with your sister in a small house, barely scraping by with the money you earn from E-rank missions."
Arya's eyes widened.
"You hide her from the world because she can't walk… and because of the red curse mark on her body. A sign that she's turning into a monster."
Arya's chest tightened.
"Assassins with black marks are cursed to kill," the man continued. "But those with red marks? They are hunted. Killed before they can become something worse."
Despite knowing the rules, Arya had broken them for her.
"You've fought to keep her alive," the man said. "She spends her days in bed, suffering, yet she survives—without a mask. And you… you've done everything you can. Saving every coin. Enduring every hardship."
Arya's nails dug into his palms.
"You knew you needed more money to save her," the man said. "That's why you took an S-rank mission. A mission that got you killed."
Arya felt his breath grow shallow.
"Now," the man said, his voice unwavering. "I'll ask you one last time."
A cold wind swept through the space between them.
"Do you want to live?"
"But how do you know about me?" Arya asked.
"That doesn't matter now. Just listen," the young man replied.
"What do you want from me?" Arya said. "I just want to live. Not for myself, but to save her. If there's any chance to save my sister, I'll die happy. I don't need to know who you are right now, as long as you help me save her. I'll do what you want. But why are you sitting there? Why not show your face?"
The young man hesitated before speaking. "For now, it's not time to reveal my face. But before you leave, you need to understand something. That world you came from... how was it?"
"For me, it was normal," Arya said.
"You don't see the truth about the assassin world. You only see what the system shows you," the young man said. "People in your world are living like puppets. I can't explain everything now. You won't understand until you face the problem yourself. When that time comes, you'll know. Look in front of you."
Arya looked ahead, and suddenly, a black mask appeared before him.
"If you want to become like me," the young man continued, "you'll gain power beyond your imagination. But right now, I can't give you all the power because your body is weak. It can't handle it. Take this mask with you. I won't force you to choose my side, but once you leave, you will be blind until you use it. After you wear it, you'll understand."
The black mask began to change color, shifting into white.
"Look at it now," the young man said. "From now on, it's a normal mask. If you want my help, you can call me 'In Heat.' Once you wear it, we will be connected."