The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-soaked grass. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees lining the backyard, their leaves whispering as if they, too, were watching. The ground beneath Sarion's feet felt firm yet cool, the lingering chill of night still fading beneath the rising sun. Everything was still, save for the occasional chirp of birds or the soft hum of wind through the wooden fence.
Across from him stood Nin, arms crossed, her stance casual yet unwavering. She wasn't even holding her sword. Her silver hair, tied into a ponytail, shifted slightly with the wind, catching the morning light. There was no tension in her posture, no sign that she was preparing for anything serious. And yet, despite her relaxed state, she looked completely in control, as if no attack could catch her off guard.
Sarion's heart pounded, but it wasn't just from nerves. Excitement swirled inside him, his small hands clenching unconsciously. I'm really going to train with her… He swallowed, barely able to believe it. The Silver Sword—the Silver Sword—was going to teach him. He'd read so much about her, heard the stories, imagined what she might be like. And now… she was right there, waiting for him.
It felt unreal.
For a brief moment, Sarion recalled what the Shadow Assassin had told him yesterday—that the one meant to train him was the bearded, blond-haired man. That memory nagged at him, just enough to stir a bit of confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be my master?
Yet, as he stood there, facing Nin, that question quickly faded to the back of his mind. Did it really matter? He was about to be trained by the legendary Silver Sword. The Silver Sword. The very thought made his excitement bubble back up, pushing aside any doubts. If anything, he felt lucky.
The morning air felt sharp against Sarion's skin, cool but brimming with something electric. Anticipation. Excitement. Maybe a little bit of fear. He stood in the backyard, fists clenched, facing Nin. She wasn't even in a fighting stance—just standing there, arms crossed, smirking like she was waiting to be entertained.
"Show me what you've got, Ion."
That was all she said. No instructions, no warnings. Just a simple challenge.
Sarion hesitated. His muscles tensed. Was she serious? Just like that, he was supposed to attack her? He thought maybe she'd tell him what to do first—how to stand, where to aim—but no. She wanted to see him fight without any guidance. He swallowed, then steeled himself. Alright… fine. If she wanted to see what he had, he'd show her.
His feet pushed off the ground, and he rushed in, going as fast as his small legs would carry him. He wasn't just swinging wildly—no, he was thinking. He knew she was stronger, faster, way more skilled, but maybe if he caught her off guard—maybe if he moved faster than she expected—he could land a hit.
He threw his first punch, aiming straight for her side. It cut through the air—
And hit nothing.
Nin had already moved, shifting ever so slightly, like she'd known exactly where he was going to strike before he even did.
Sarion's eyes widened, but he didn't stop. He twisted, using the momentum to send a second punch toward her shoulder. Again, she barely reacted. A tiny tilt of her body, and his fist missed completely.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. She's fast!
Frustration burned in his chest, but he didn't give up. He pivoted, sending a kick toward her leg, thinking maybe—just maybe—she wouldn't expect a low attack.
Nin sighed.
Then, before he even realized what had happened, something flicked against his forehead—just a light tap, but it sent him stumbling back a step.
Sarion froze, blinking in shock. That… that was her counter? She could've hit him anywhere, done anything, and she chose that?
His face burned. He clenched his fists again, frustration bubbling up. He hadn't even touched her. Not once.
Nin grinned. "Not bad, Ion. You've got spirit." She dropped her arms, finally standing a little straighter. "But you rely too much on speed and instinct. You don't think ahead."
Sarion bit his lip, frowning. He had thought ahead! At least, he tried. But it didn't matter—she was just too good.
She placed a hand on her hip, tilting her head. "You're predictable. That's the biggest problem." Her silver hair shifted in the breeze as she watched him, calm as ever. "But now I know where to start with you."
Sarion swallowed, still breathing hard. He had lost. Completely. But somehow… he didn't feel bad.
Because this was just the beginning.
Sarion was still catching his breath when a voice cut through the air.
"He's my student. Don't go stealing what isn't yours, Nin."
Sarion flinched. He hadn't heard anyone approach. Not a single footstep. His head snapped toward the source, and his eyes widened.
The blonde bearded man from yesterday.
The one who had saved him.
The one who was supposed to train him.
Leif stood near the backyard door, arms crossed, his adventurer's clothing slightly ruffled as if he had just strolled in from a long morning run. His expression was firm, but there was something casual about the way he said it—like this wasn't the first time he'd had to lay claim to a student.
Nin clicked her tongue and turned to him, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she crossed her arms again. "Meh. I like Ion, so I'm taking him away from you. Deal with it."
Leif's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, you like him, huh? That doesn't mean you get to claim him."
"It does, actually," Nin shot back smoothly, her smirk growing.
Sarion stood frozen between them, looking back and forth, unsure of what was happening. Was this… a fight? They didn't look mad exactly, but their words carried a sharp edge, like two kids bickering over a toy.
Leif sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Klein told me I'd be Sarion's master. You don't just get to waltz in and snatch him away because you feel like it."
Nin shrugged. "Sounds like a you problem."
"A me problem?!" Leif threw his hands up. "How is this my fault?! You're the one butting in!"
"And yet, here we are." Nin grinned.
Sarion blinked. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something, but it didn't seem like they were paying him much attention anymore.
Leif exhaled through his nose, glaring at Nin like an older brother dealing with an annoying younger sibling. "Why do you even want to train him? You're a knight—he's not even using a sword!"
Nin's expression didn't change. "Because I want to."
Leif stared at her, deadpan. "That's it? That's your whole argument?"
"Yup."
He groaned, rubbing his temples. "I swear if you weren't so—"
"—amazing?" Nin supplied.
"—infuriating," Leif corrected.
Sarion just stood there, utterly lost. This… wasn't what he expected when he woke up today.
Leif and Nin were still at it, their voices bouncing off the backyard walls.
"You're impossible!"
"And you're slow. What's your point?"
"I—That's not even— Ugh, forget it!"
Sarion wasn't sure how long this would go on, but then the backyard door opened again.
This time, it wasn't another young warrior stepping through. It was an old man.
He wore a long cloak, slightly tattered at the edges, his movements slow but deliberate. Sarion barely had time to react before the man shoved Leif aside, making him stumble a few steps back.
Leif scowled. "Seriously? Can't you ask me nicely to move?"
The old man didn't even look at him. "You should respect your elders."
Sarion thought that was the end of it, but Nin? She burst out laughing.
Leif shot her a glare. "Oh, shut up."
Nin grinned. "I'm just enjoying the moment."
The old man ignored them both. His eyes settled on Sarion.
Sarion stiffened. There was something about that gaze—sharp and calculating. The way the old man studied him made his stomach twist a little, like he was being measured.
Then, after what felt like forever, the old man gave a small nod.
"I like him as well," he murmured. Then his lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "I can see why Young Klein thought it a good idea to bring him back."
Nin smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She placed a hand on Sarion's head and ruffled his hair.
"He's adorable," she declared. "I'm adopting him. From today onward, he's my little brother."
Sarion blinked up at her, stunned. Little brother?
The old man let out a hearty chuckle, amused by her claim. "That so?"
"Yup," Nin said confidently. "He's mine now. You guys can argue all you want, but I've already decided."
Sarion wasn't sure how to respond. He'd never had an older sister before. It felt… strange, but not unpleasant. Nin was cool—strong, famous, and completely different from the noblewomen he'd seen back home.
But while the old man laughed, Leif didn't say a word.
He just stood there, arms crossed, staring at Sarion with an unreadable expression.
Unlike Nin, he didn't seem thrilled about this.
No, if anything… he looked bothered.
Sarion didn't understand why, but Leif's thoughts were elsewhere.
Another child. That's what this was. They had brought another child here, into this life.
He knew why the kid wanted revenge. The Black Tower had burned his home, killed his family. And Leif… Leif couldn't argue with that. He was doing the same, wasn't he?
But that didn't mean he liked it.
Sarion was a noble. He still had uncles. He had a name, a place in the world where he could start over and live comfortably.
Yet here he was.
Leif exhaled quietly. He didn't say anything, but the weight in his chest wouldn't go away.
The backyard door suddenly burst open with a loud bang.
Leif barely stepped aside in time before it could slam into him. He scowled, already knowing who the culprit was.
A girl with short, wild red hair stood panting in the doorway, sweat on her brow from the morning run. She wasn't much older than twelve or thirteen, but she was athletic, built like someone who spent her days running, climbing, and fighting.
Her sharp eyes immediately landed on Sarion.
And she did not look happy.
Sarion flinched under her gaze. He didn't know why, but it felt like she was mad at him.
The girl jabbed a finger in his direction.
"My name's Mellisa," she declared. "You call me that. Got it?"
Sarion blinked. "Uh… okay?"
The others raised an eyebrow. Nin smirked in amusement, while the old man chuckled.
"Don't you like it more when we call you Mell?" he asked, teasing her.
"That's for close family only!" she shot back, crossing her arms.
Sarion felt a pang in his chest.
She didn't like him.
He wasn't sure why, but it was obvious. The way she glared at him, the way she made sure to set a boundary right away—it was like she wanted him to know he wasn't welcome.
But… why?
He hadn't even done anything yet.
Sarion lowered his gaze, feeling a little hurt.
Nin immediately noticed Sarion's gaze drop, and just like that, she was on it.
With a grin, she reached out and ruffled his hair, making him look up in surprise. Her touch was light, playful, the way an older sister might tease her younger sibling.
"Hey now," Nin said, her tone light but firm as she turned to Mellisa. "Don't you dare make my little brother upset, got it?"
Mell's eyes widened.
"Little brother?!" she blurted out, staring at Nin like she'd just grown a second head.
Mell's face scrunched up in annoyance as she looked from Nin to Sarion, her hands on her hips, clearly not expecting to be talked to like that. Her usual confidence faltered for a moment as she scoffed, "Little brother? Seriously?"
Nin simply grinned, giving her a playful wink. "Yeah, little brother. Deal with it."
The old man chuckled softly, watching the interaction with mild amusement. "Ah, children these days," he muttered, shaking his head but smiling all the same. "Aren't they adorable?"
Leif, still looking uncomfortably serious, cleared his throat. "As much as I'd love to watch you play sibling games, I'm pretty sure we should get back to the matter at hand." He glanced pointedly at Sarion, who was still standing there, blinking in confusion.
Sarion looked between all of them—Nin, Leif, the old man, and now Mell, who seemed to be staring him down with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Why was everyone so focused on him all of a sudden? He had no idea how to feel about it. One minute, Nin was patting his head and calling him her "little brother," and the next, Mell was almost glaring at him as if he were stealing her spotlight.
Nin, however, wasn't backing down. "I said it first, Leif," she teased, crossing her arms with a smirk. "And I'm not giving him up. Ion's training with me."
Leif's jaw tightened slightly, frustration creeping into his voice. "Klein gave me the responsibility to train him. I am his master."
"Well, I don't see any Klein here right now," Nin shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I think Ion's better off with me."
Mellisa rolled her eyes and walked over to Sarion, still looking unimpressed. "Are you really okay with this, or do you just let people call you whatever they want?" she asked, half teasing, half annoyed.
Sarion blinked, feeling a bit awkward under her gaze. "Uh... I don't really know." He didn't know how to answer. His mind was still swirling from the confusion of everything happening so quickly. One minute, he was getting training from Nin, the next minute, Leif and Nin were arguing over who got to train him. And now, there was a girl calling him her "little brother" and... Why was she mad at him?
Nin, never missing a chance to tease, winked at Sarion. "It's alright, little bro, I've got your back."
Leif sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'll see about that. The kid needs structure, and I'm the one who's going to give it to him."
Sarion had never felt so out of place in his life. Everyone was arguing over him, but all he wanted was to know who was going to train him and what he was supposed to do. What was all this "structure" Leif kept talking about, and did it really matter who trained him? He just wanted to get stronger, to be useful, to be able to protect himself.
For now, though, he just stood there, caught in the middle of the chaos.
Leif and Nin squared off, their faces locked in playful yet competitive glares. They were inches away from starting what seemed like an actual fight, not out of malice but from some unspoken challenge. Sarion couldn't help but feel a slight pang of worry for Leif. After all, Nin wasn't just any warrior—she was the famous Silver Sword, renowned for her swordsmanship across the continent. And Leif? Well... Sarion didn't know much about him other than he was kind, a little stern, and not quite on Nin's level.
The thought of them fighting sent a nervous flutter through Sarion's chest. Was Leif really strong enough to handle Nin?
The old man, who had been quietly observing, chuckled at Sarion's worried expression. "Don't be too quick to judge, kid," he said with a knowing smile. "You shouldn't underestimate Leif."
Mell, still irritated by Sarion's presence, looked over at him with a slight nod of agreement. "Yeah," she chimed in, though her voice was tinged with annoyance, "Big Sis Nin might be stronger, but Leif's super strong too."
Sarion blinked, taking in her words. Leif, strong? Well, that was a bit of a surprise. But Mell wasn't done yet.
"Neither of them come close to Big Bro Klein, though," she added casually, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sarion frowned, confusion furrowing his brow. This "Klein" had come up so many times already, but no one had explained who he was. "Wait, who is this Klein guy?" he blurted, voicing the question that had been gnawing at him for a while.
Mell blinked at him, as if the question was ridiculous. "Are you serious?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Big Bro Klein? He's only the Shadow Assassin. You know, the guy everyone's always talking about?"
Sarion opened his mouth to ask more but was interrupted by the old man's deep voice. "Klein is the Shadow Assassin," he explained, his tone heavy with respect. "A legend in his own right. Far stronger than either Leif or Nin."
The weight of his words settled on Sarion's shoulders, and the name Klein took on a new, heavier meaning. It wasn't just some random name; it was a name attached to a figure with untold power, someone who had earned a reputation that made even the legendary Silver Sword seem lesser by comparison.
Sarion glanced between the old man, Leif, and Nin, trying to process everything. There was a lot more going on here than he had realized, and he was just beginning to scratch the surface.
Sarion stood there, his mind racing, trying to process everything around him. It felt like he had just stumbled into a monster's den, one filled with creatures far beyond his understanding. Everywhere he looked, there was someone strong, someone capable of things he could never imagine.
First, there was Klein—the Shadow Assassin, a name that echoed like thunder in his mind. He had been the one who saved him, the one who had kept him alive, but Sarion had no idea just how powerful he was until now. "Far stronger than Leif or Nin," the old man had said. Sarion shivered. Was this Klein a monster, too? Was there anyone in this house who wasn't some kind of legend?
Then, there was Nin—the Silver Sword. Her grace, her confidence... she was a living legend, someone whose skill with a sword was probably unmatched. And she was here, right in front of him, about to train him. He had to be careful not to mess up, not to embarrass himself in front of someone like her.
Leif... Leif was supposedly close in power to Nin. Sarion wasn't sure how that worked, but from the way they bickered, it seemed like they both had enough skill to back up their words. Sarion couldn't even imagine going up against either of them in a fight. He barely knew how to swing a sword.
And the old man? He had to be strong, right? The way he spoke, the way he carried himself—there was an authority in his voice, something that made Sarion feel small. Was he a monster, too?
But then, there was Jon—the muscular man who had helped him earlier. He wasn't as legendary as the others, but he'd been kind to Sarion, and his strength was clear. Was Jon also hiding some kind of insane power? Sarion gulped. This house was filled with terrifying people, each one stronger than the last.
And then there was Mell... She couldn't possibly be a legend, right? She was barely older than him—just a kid. She looked tough, though, and Sarion could tell she didn't like him one bit. Was it because she thought he was weak? Or was it something else?
Sarion's head swirled with all the new information, and for a moment, he felt very, very small. He was just a kid. He didn't belong in a house filled with all these powerful people. It was like he had stepped into a world he couldn't even begin to understand. Would he even survive here? Or would he just get lost in the shadow of legends?
As the bickering between Nin and Leif escalated, the tension in the air grew thick. Sarion could feel it. The way their bodies tensed, their hands subtly inching toward their weapons—it was clear that a fight was about to break out. Nin's right hand moved toward the silver sword strapped to her waist, her fingers brushing the hilt. Leif, too, made his move, his hand sliding toward the long sword at his side. Sarion felt his heart race. He had never seen such an intense standoff before.
He wanted to say something, to step in and stop it, but he felt small and helpless in this moment. He didn't know who to root for. Would Nin, the Silver Sword, win? Or Leif, who was said to be just as strong? Sarion had no idea what to expect.
Just as their gazes locked, and the air seemed to crackle with the impending clash, a new voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Cut it off."
Everyone froze. Sarion blinked and turned toward the sound of the voice, not sure what to expect.
A blue-haired young man stood in the doorway, his presence immediately commanding attention. His skin was tan, and his eyes—sharp, narrow, and almost unreadable—seemed to carry an intensity that matched the rest of the room. There was something foreign in his gaze, something that felt both calm and alert, as if he was always observing and always in control. Sarion couldn't quite explain it, but it made him feel a little uneasy, like this young man saw through him.
The newcomer's voice was steady, but his words held weight, enough to stop the bickering in its tracks. Nin and Leif both paused, their hands still hovering near their weapons, but they didn't draw them. Instead, they exchanged a quick glance, as if silently deciding whether to challenge the stranger or not.
Sarion couldn't help but wonder who this new person was. He looked young, but something about the way he held himself made Sarion feel like he was someone to be reckoned with.
Sarion's eyes widened as he took in the newcomer's appearance. His eyes, sharp and narrow, reminded him of Jon's—of those from the Eastern Empire, with that same cool, calculating look that didn't quite betray their thoughts. There was a certain stillness to his gaze, but it wasn't cold or distant. It was the kind of look that made you feel as though you were being seen entirely, in ways you didn't even understand yourself.
The man stood there, calm and collected, his expression unreadable as he surveyed Nin and Leif, his eyes softening just a bit. It was the look a father might give his children, even though this man looked only a few years older than either of them. His small beard only enhanced his mature aura, though it was clear he wasn't as much of a stranger as he appeared.
Nin and Leif exchanged a quick look, a silent understanding passing between them, before they both reluctantly relaxed their stances. Their hands moved away from their weapons, the tension lifting just enough for them to nod at each other, agreeing to postpone their argument for now. It was clear they respected this new arrival, even if they didn't fully agree with him interrupting their rivalry.
But Mell... Mell was a different story.
She completely ignored the shift in mood, her focus only on the new person. Her face lit up as she waved eagerly, a bright smile spreading across her face. "Big bro Klein!" she called out, her voice ringing with familiarity and affection.
The words hit Sarion like a bolt of lightning. He froze. Big bro Klein? It was only then, with that familiar nickname, that it clicked in his mind. The Shadow Assassin—the mysterious, frightening figure from the previous day—was standing in front of him. But today, he wasn't dressed in his intimidating dark armor. Today, he was just... a man.
He looked far less menacing without the armor, almost ordinary, and yet, Sarion could feel a weight of power in him that still made his chest tighten. He was Klein, the one everyone spoke of with such respect, the Shadow Assassin who was apparently so important to all of them.
It was an overwhelming realization for Sarion. The house wasn't just a haven for legendary warriors. It was home to a collection of people, each of them remarkable in their own right. And now, with Klein's presence, Sarion couldn't help but feel a little small in comparison.
Mell jumped for joy as she rushed up to Klein, her excitement contagious. She grinned from ear to ear, practically bouncing on the ground.
Klein chuckled softly and reached down, ruffling her short hair. The smile that spread across his face was the first one Sarion had seen from him, and it was warm—genuine, even. The Shadow Assassin, the figure shrouded in mystery and fear, had a side to him that Sarion hadn't even considered.
The boy stood frozen, still processing this sudden shift in perception. The image of the bloodthirsty murderer, the killer who had wiped out countless lives, slowly crumbled in his mind. The man in front of him was nothing like the figure Sarion had imagined. Klein wasn't some heartless villain. He was just... a person. A man who could smile, ruffle a little girl's hair, and show affection for those around him. It confused Sarion, and the more he thought about it, the more it unsettled him.
The old man, noticing Sarion's confused expression, offered a small smile of his own. It was the kind of smile that suggested he understood what was going on in Sarion's mind. As if he could sense the boy's disorientation, but didn't mind it. It was, after all, a lot to take in.
Meanwhile, Leif, noticing the change in atmosphere, couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. With Klein here, the balance had shifted in his favor. No longer did he have to worry about Nin's relentless insistence that she would be the one to train Sarion. The leader was here—Klein was here. He could feel the weight of Klein's presence, and that weight was enough to shift the dynamic.
Leif wasted no time. His lips curled into a knowing smile as he stepped forward, locking eyes with Klein. "So, who's going to train the kid?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge of excitement.
Klein glanced at Leif, then at Sarion, before giving a subtle nod. He pointed at Leif without hesitation. "Leif," he said, his tone cool but definitive.
Nin's face immediately twisted into a pout, her arms crossing over her chest in a childlike display of frustration. "What?! You can't just pick him!" she huffed, her voice laced with playful defiance. "I'm the one who was training him! I've already gotten started, you know!"
The banter between them was familiar, almost sibling-like, and Sarion couldn't help but watch in awe as they bickered over something so trivial. But it was clear—Klein had spoken, and that meant something.
Sarion, still processing everything around him, couldn't help but feel a little unsure of his place in all this. A few moments ago, he had been standing alone, unsure about everything. Now? He was in a whirlwind of legends. Klein, Nin, Leif, the old man, even Mell—all of them seemed so much bigger than him. So much more powerful.
—End of Chapter.