South Glade Town, Lower District
Although it was still daytime, a bar in the lower district of the south glade town was alive with shadow. Crimson name tags shimmered faintly in the low light — red players packed into every corner, their presence radiating menace. The air was thick with tension and dark energy.
Amidst this sea of danger, several green-tagged players sat awkwardly in a distant booth, clearly out of place. Rhine and a few of his subordinates had chosen the most dangerous place in South Glade to meet someone they didn't dare contact anywhere else.
Across from him sat the man known as Nightshade Vale — one of the most feared assassins in all of Glory.
"Nightshade Vale," Rhine said, keeping his voice low. "I need someone eliminated. Name your price."
The man didn't respond.
He leaned back in his seat, one arm draped around a well-endowed woman curled against him, the other lifting a half-empty beer bottle to his lips. He drank slowly, seemingly indifferent to the world.
His face remained expressionless — yet the wicked smile that tugged at the corner of his lips sent a chill crawling up Rhine's spine.
The assassin's silence wasn't ignorance.
It was dominance.
Rhine's expression darkened, but he held back his impatience. He knew better than to provoke someone like Nightshade Vale.
But Beside him, one of Rhine's subordinates Didn't and so he slammed his hands on the table, voice brimming with anger.
"Hey! Can't you hear our boss talking to you? Quit pretending you're deaf, you damn—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a flash of silver flickered across the table.
A snow-bright dagger sliced cleanly across his throat. In the blink of an eye, it reversed, stabbed deep into his chest, and then dragged downward in a single fluid motion. Stab. Pull. Slash. Three moves — executed so smoothly it was as if they had been rehearsed countless times.
The man's eyes bulged. But not a sound left his mouth.
He collapsed instantly, lifeless, before his body could even register the pain.
Rhine stood frozen, jaw clenched, fists trembling. He stared at the corpse, then locked eyes with the killer across from him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? I came here to talk business — and you kill one of my men?" he shouted.
But he didn't draw his weapon. He didn't move an inch.
Because he knew — if he dared to lift a finger, his fate would mirror the man now bleeding out on the floor.
Across the table, Nightshade Vale tilted his head and finally spoke, voice cool and casual.
"Because I felt like it. Got a problem with that?"
He spun his dagger lazily between his fingers, the polished blade leaving faint trails in the air — forming what looked almost like a blooming flower of death.
Rhine's lips twitched, his rage bubbling just beneath the surface.
"You… you—" he stammered, fists tightening.
But the words never left his throat.
He swallowed his fury — and his pride.
Nightshade Vale was the kind of thing you shouldn't provoke.
Nightshade Vale wasn't just a feared assassin in Glory — he was a real-life hitman, a notorious figure in the underworld. Rumors of his past were murky, but his reputation as a top-tier expert in VR games was undeniable.
Very few players knew of his identity. And those who did… were usually the ones who'd been on the receiving end of his blade.
Rhine had encountered him in a previous game years ago — and not in a friendly way. He had been assassinated by Vale multiple times, and that string of brutal defeats was how he learned the man's name.
But Nightshade Vale wasn't just skilled — he was unpredictable.
His temperament was notoriously strange. If a request didn't spark his interest, he wouldn't accept it, no matter how absurd the payment. He didn't work for credits or gold alone — only for the thrill of the hunt.
And once he did accept a job?
He had never failed.
Yet if someone tried to pressure him… well, the outcome was almost always tragic — for the one doing the pressuring.
Rhine had once witnessed a player trying to hire Nightshade Vale for a full-wipe assassination — to hunt down a target until they were reduced to Level 0. But Vale refused.
That customer, enraged by the rejection, made the mistake of threatening him, that he would wipe Vale too.
The result?
Nightshade Vale personally hunted that man across the game, killed him repeatedly until his level hit rock bottom... and forced him to delete his account out of sheer humiliation.
Since then, Rhine had learned a valuable lesson: you don't pressure a man like that.
Now, as silence stretched between them, Vale simply smirked. He pulled the woman at his side closer, took a long swig of his beer, and leaned back with a relaxed sigh — as if the death of the player, that had just occurred never even happened.
The slain body still lay there, but no one in the bar reacted.
Not a single player spared it a glance.
Violence was routine in this den of shadows. Death was just background noise.
Rhine, meanwhile, had to inhale deeply — once, twice — suppressing the fury boiling inside him.
"Nightshade Vale," he said, voice steady, "don't be so quick to refuse. If you hear the name of the target… I guarantee you'll be interested."
But the assassin didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
He just sat there, caressing the curve of his companion's waist, eyes half-lidded with disinterest.
To him, Rhine was nothing more than empty space — an annoyance in a crowded room.
"This person's name is Raen," Rhine said coldly. "He's a top-tier expert. I want him dead—wiped to Level 0, or better yet, forced to delete his account and start from scratch. As for the price... you name it."
As he spoke, Rhine pulled out a virtual recording and slid it across the table.
It played a scene from the Blackstone Ravine battle — the clash between Kaito's Genesis team and the Everhold Dominion.
Two swords. Four phantom images. Unblockable, precise, overwhelming.
The final blow that struck down Rhine was devastatingly fast — a blur of motion that cut through his defenses like they weren't even there.
Nightshade Vale's expression finally shifted.
He leaned forward slightly, pausing the footage mid-slash, then let out a low chuckle. "One million credits. One-time payment."
Rhine's heart clenched. That price tag wasn't a joke.
He'd expected something steep — perhaps triple the normal fee of 100,000 for elite targets — but this was nearly ten times that.
Still, he gritted his teeth and nodded. He already knew Nightshade Vale charged based on the threat level. And the fact that Kaito was priced this high only deepened his conviction.
"Fine," Rhine replied. "Give me your account ID. I'll transfer the funds immediately."
"How much time?" he asked next, eyes narrowed.
Vale didn't hesitate. "Five days."
Rhine nodded slowly. As the funds were transferred, his thoughts ran ahead — already savoring the image of Kaito's broken figure lying at Level 0.
Finally… vengeance was in motion.
Meanwhile, the person in question had already returned to the Black Market.
After dealing with Everhold and instructing his team to proceed with the Echoing Deep dungeon, Kaito had made his way back—just in time for the auction, which was now only ten minutes away.