Dawn filtered sparingly through the grimy window of the rental room, casting faint light upon the cluttered floor. The air hung thick with a cheap ramen and mildew blend.
Rin, a young man with a delicate yet somewhat sickly pale complexion, abruptly sat upright on the hard cot. His eyes were wide, pupils filled with chaotic bewilderment. This wasn't his room, nor anywhere he recognized. He couldn't recall who he was, or where he came from. His mind was a blank slate, like a beach scoured by a tsunami, leaving no trace behind.
His hand instinctively reached for the pillow, his fingers brushing against something cold. It was an antique-looking short dagger, its sheath intricately etched with dark patterns. He picked it up; the blade shimmered with an ominous blue glow in the morning light. The moment his hand closed around the hilt, an inexplicable familiarity surged through him. The dagger felt like a natural extension of his palm, even vibrating imperceptibly, as if a sleeping beast had been roused.
Every cell in his body screamed with an impulse, an almost primal instinct to perceive danger and counterattack. He tried a practice swing; his movements were fluid and swift, like flowing water, without the slightest hesitation. Each swing seemed to tear through the air, emitting an almost inaudible whistle. This was definitely not something an ordinary person could do. He stared at his hands, long and strong, with distinct knuckles and palms calloused from prolonged gripping of some kind of implement.
"Who… who am I?" he croaked, his voice so unfamiliar it startled even himself. His throat was parched, as if he hadn't had a drink in ages.
Footsteps clamored outside the door, followed by a crude banging.
"Hey! In there! How long have you been overdue on rent? Don't blame us if we get rough!" A gruff male voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Rin frowned, instinctively gripping the dagger and hiding it behind his back. Though he was amnesiac, his body was already in a defensive posture, reacting faster than his conscious mind. The door was kicked open, and three burly men barged in, sinister smiles plastered across their faces.
"Kid, playing dead, huh? Is this place your ancestral property or something?" The leading thug, fatty with a cigarette dangling from his lips, spoke with malice.
Rin didn't reply, simply sweeping his gaze across the three men with cold intensity. His eyes held an extreme calm, yet harbored a chill capable of freezing hearts. The fatty thug flinched under his stare but quickly flushed with anger.
"What are you looking at? Think I won't throw you out?" He cursed and lunged forward, swinging a fist the size of a sandbag.
In a flash, Rin moved. It was a reaction purely based on instinct, too fast for the fatty thug to even register. He sidestepped, and his short dagger flashed, precisely grazing the thug's wrist. It wasn't a deep, fatal wound, but a cunning cut to the tendons. The thug shrieked, his fist dangling uselessly.
The other two thugs froze, stunned that this sickly-looking kid was actually a tough nut.
"Damn it, you're looking for death!" One of them snapped out of his shock, drawing a short stick from his waist and savagely striking at Rin's head.
Rin remained terrifyingly calm. He tilted his head slightly, evading the heavy blow, while his left hand shot out like lightning, seizing the assailant's wrist. With a reverse joint twist, a sharp "crack" echoed in the small room as bone snapped. The man collapsed to his knees in pain, his stick clattering to the floor.
The last thug was scared out of his wits. He stumbled backward, trying to flee, but Rin was faster. The dagger sliced through the air, pinning itself precisely into the doorframe, less than an inch from the thug's cheek. The cold blade tip reflected a faint light; the thug froze, his face whiter than paper.
"Scram." Rin uttered the single word coldly, his voice deep and resonant.
The three thugs scrambled out, the room instantly falling silent. Rin slowly lowered the dagger, his confusion deepening. How did he possess such skills? He had never learned these moves, yet his body performed them as if seasoned by countless training sessions, already refined to perfection.
He looked around, his gaze falling on a worn-out backpack in the corner. Zipping it open, he found a few simple clothes and a crumpled admission letter.
"Shadow Academy."
These two words, imprinted on the letter, scorched into Rin's blank memory like a branding iron, stirring a faint ripple. The name seemed to carry a certain fatalistic summons. The letter also bore his name: "Rin."
Rin. A name that sounded stark and powerful, yet stood in stark contrast to the chaos he currently faced.
He knew he couldn't stay here. Those thugs would soon return with more people. He picked up his backpack, carefully tucking the dagger into his waistband, and left the rental room that felt like a cage.
The streets teemed with people, the clamor deafening. The architecture here was a strange mix, with towering steel jungles alongside dilapidated slums. A strong stench of blood hung in the air, yet no one seemed to notice its peculiarity, as if the scent of blood had become part of the city's everyday life.
Rin acutely noticed that the eyes of passersby held a hint of wariness and indifference. People brushing past, whether ordinary citizens or street vendors, unconsciously displayed a readiness to strike back at any moment. He even saw a child who accidentally knocked over goods from a roadside stall while playing; the vendor not only didn't scold them but swiftly produced a small knife from his sleeve, only retracting it after the child's parents offered apologies and compensation.
This was a world of assassins. The thought surfaced in Rin's mind unbidden, as if etched deep into his soul. A chilling cold ran through him, yet there was also a bizarre sense of familiarity. It was as if this was the world he had always lived in.
He followed the address on the admission letter, navigating through crowded alleys, eventually arriving at a majestic complex encircled by high walls. Black gates and iron fences everywhere exuded coldness and severity.
"Shadow Academy," he murmured the name, an oppressive atmosphere washing over him.
A long queue of mostly teenagers, about his age, snaked in front of the school gate. Their eyes held a mixture of bewilderment, excitement, and barely concealed killing intent. Rin blended into the crowd, observing his surroundings. He noticed that many people in the queue bore scars, some deep, some shallow, and their palms, like his, were covered in calluses.
"New student?" A cold, flat voice spoke beside him.
Rin turned his head. A stone-faced guard stood next to him, his gaze sharp, sweeping over Rin like a blade.
"Yes," Rin replied.
The guard handed him a form: "Fill it out. Then go in."
Aside from basic information, the form contained one particularly glaring question: "Why have you come? For survival, or for slaughter?"
Rin held the pen, his hand trembling slightly. He didn't know the answer. Survival? Slaughter? His mind was blank, filled only with fragmented images and a deep-seated craving for power.
He finally checked the box for "For survival." He didn't know his past, but he knew he wanted to live, at least to figure out who he was.
Stepping through the academy gates, the interior presented a stark contrast to the exterior's severity. This place resembled a massive military training base more than a traditional school. Towering training grounds, rows of shooting ranges, and an air thick with the scent of sweat and blood.
New students were led to a massive assembly hall. Hundreds of teenagers stood within, the atmosphere tense and oppressive.
An instructor in a black uniform strode onto the podium, a gruesome saber scar marring his face, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
"Welcome to Shadow Academy," the instructor's voice was deep and powerful, carrying an undeniable authority. "Here, there are no rules, only one truth—kill to survive."
The instructor's words thundered through the assembly hall. Many new students' faces contorted in horror, but even more had a bloodthirsty glint ignite in their eyes.
"You are the future of this world, and its sharpest blades. From today, you will learn how to become competent assassins. You will learn how to disguise yourselves, how to track, how to silently take a life." The instructor's tone remained flat, as if stating an ordinary fact.
"Your classmates may also be your enemies. In Shadow Academy, there are no friends, only competitors. Every training session, every mission, could be your trial. Those who fail will be permanently eliminated."
Rin stood among the crowd, listening to the instructor's address. He felt a coldness that seeped into his bones. He had never imagined he would find himself in such an environment. Yet, that inexplicable sense of familiarity deep within him grew stronger. It was as if he inherently belonged here.
"Alright, now, follow me to the dorms." The instructor waved his hand, gesturing for everyone to follow.
The dorm was an eight-person room, cramped and simple. Rin was assigned a lower bunk by the window. He set his backpack down, tucking the dagger securely against his body.
The seven other boys in the dorm were mostly taller and sturdier than him, their eyes carrying the arrogance and unease typical of new recruits. One powerfully built boy with a buzz cut and a thin scar on his face walked over to Rin's bunk, looking down at him.
"New here? You look sickly. Wouldn't surprise me if you passed out before training even starts," the buzz-cut boy said with clear provocation.
Rin ignored him, continuing to organize his bunk.
The buzz-cut boy was clearly annoyed at being ignored. He stuck out his foot and harshly kicked Rin's bed frame, creating a grating screech.
"Hey! Are you deaf? I'm talking to you!" he raised his voice, even more arrogant.
Rin slowly lifted his head, his gaze calm as he looked at the buzz-cut boy. There was no anger, no fear in his eyes, only a profound indifference.
The buzz-cut boy felt a prickle of unease under this gaze, but he quickly turned angry. He swung a fist at Rin's face, attempting to teach this impertinent fellow a lesson.
However, the fist stopped less than an inch from Rin's nose, firmly caught by a long, strong hand. Rin's fingers clamped around the buzz-cut boy's wrist like an iron vice, rendering him completely immobile.
The buzz-cut boy's face flushed red; he struggled with all his might but found he couldn't break free. He felt an immense force emanating from Rin's hand, as if it would crush his bones.
"Let… let go!" he gritted out.
Rin looked at him expressionlessly, tightening his grip slightly. Cold sweat beaded on the buzz-cut boy's forehead, and his face began to pale.
"You… who exactly are you?!" He finally felt a flicker of fear.
Rin slowly released his hand. The buzz-cut boy stumbled back a few steps, vigorously shaking his numb wrist, his eyes filled with shock and a hint of unbelievable dread.
The other seven boys in the dorm, who had been watching with amusement, were now utterly silent. They saw the powerful strength hidden within Rin's lean body, and it made them uneasy.
Rin didn't spare the buzz-cut boy another glance. He turned and continued to organize his belongings.
He knew that in this world of assassins, showing weakness would only invite more bullying. And the power within him, though strange, was his only reliance.