Past of mask man

The Past of an Assassin

The Last Walk Home

The bag in his hand was light.

Instant noodles. A drink he didn’t really want.

Shopping was simple. It gave him a reason to be outside without explaining himself. No one questioned a boy walking home with plastic bags and tired eyes.

The street was loud. Engines, footsteps, voices overlapping. Life moving forward without noticing him—just like always.

Then he heard it.

A small laugh. Too close to the road.

He turned.

A child stood at the edge of the street, frozen, clutching a toy with both hands. The traffic light hadn’t changed yet, but the truck didn’t slow down. Its horn screamed too late.

For a moment, everything felt familiar.

The speed.

The distance.

The certainty.

His body moved before his thoughts did.

He dropped the bag.

Noodles spilled onto the road like useless offerings.

He ran—not as an assassin, not as a weapon—but as the boy he used to be. The one who always wished someone would come for him.

He reached the child and pushed them back with all the strength he had left.

The child fell.

He didn’t.

There was no fear.

No regret.

Only a strange calm.

As the world faded, he lay there staring at the sky between buildings. Sirens were distant. People shouted. Someone cried—but it wasn’t for him yet.

His last thought was quiet.

So this is what it feels like… to matter once.

When the street finally settled, the child was alive—held tightly by trembling hands.

And he was gone.

At home, dinner waited on the table.

The television played on.

No one noticed he never came back.

Second Chance

The One Who Was Never Seen

When darkness fully swallowed him, Saburu expected nothing.

No heaven.

No hell.

No voices calling his name.

That was how his life had always been—ending the same way it was lived.

But instead of oblivion, there was light.

Soft. Endless. Quiet.

Saburu stood in a white expanse with no walls and no sky. The air itself felt warm, like it was holding him together. His body felt… whole. No pain. No weight.

Footsteps echoed gently.

A woman appeared before him, cloaked in radiance so calm it hurt to look at. Her eyes were ancient, yet kind.

A goddess.

She studied him in silence for a long moment.

“Saburu,” she said.

He flinched.

Someone remembered his name.

“You were born into a house full of people,” she continued, “yet you grew up alone.”

Images surfaced around them.

A child eating dinner in silence.

A bedroom lit only by a screen.

Hands bruised from training no one asked about.

“Your parents did not hate you,” the goddess said softly. “But they never learned how to see you.”

Saburu clenched his fists.

“They gave you shelter,” she went on, “but not warmth. Rules, but not guidance. Time passed… and you learned to survive without being held.”

Another image appeared.

Saburu older now—training at night, eyes dull, movements precise.

“You learned discipline because chaos surrounded you,” she said.

“You learned silence because no one listened.”

His throat tightened.

Then came darker images—missions, shadows, blood that vanished too quickly.

“You became a weapon not because you loved killing,” the goddess said, her voice steady, “but because being useful felt better than being forgotten.”

Saburu lowered his head.

“I never wanted praise,” he said quietly. “I just… didn’t want to be nothing.”

The goddess’s expression softened.

“And yet,” she said, “at the very end, when you finally had nothing to gain—no order, no reward—you chose to act.”

The final memory appeared.

A child.

A road.

A moment that could not be undone.

“You gave your life without expectation,” she said.

“No one commanded you. No one promised you thanks.”

She stepped closer.

“That choice erased the weight of everything before it.”

Saburu looked up, eyes shaking.

“So… was my life meaningless?”

The goddess shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly.

“It was unfinished.”

She raised her hand.

“I will grant you reincarnation—not as compensation, but as opportunity.”

A translucent screen unfolded before him.

“You will be given an Assassin Skill Set, not to kill—but because it matches who you already are: observant, restrained, decisive.”

Another symbol appeared.

“You will also receive a World Interface—a system to help you understand this world, its rules, and yourself.”

Saburu hesitated.

“…Will I still be alone?”

The goddess smiled—gentle, but honest.

“That depends,” she said, “on whether you believe you deserve to stay.”

Light surged forward.

The World Beyond

Saburu woke with a sharp breath.

Grass pressed against his palms. The scent of soil and wind filled his lungs. Above him stretched a sky impossibly blue—clear in a way his old world never was.

“…So it’s real.”

His body felt light. Strong. Responsive. No scars. No fatigue.

He stood slowly. His clothes were simple—travel-worn, practical. Comfortable.

My kind of outfit, he thought.

In the distance, a forest stretched endlessly, its trees thick with shadow and life.

Then—

A scream.

Saburu froze.

It came from deep within the woods.

His body moved before doubt could rise.

The First Choice

Between shattered branches, he saw them.

A girl—bleeding, barely standing.

Two companions collapsed behind her.

A goblin corpse nearby.

She had fought. Poorly. Desperately.

A low growl echoed.

A wolf burst from the trees.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut.

Steel flashed.

The wolf collapsed mid-leap.

Saburu appeared like a shadow, dagger clean and precise. Another wolf lunged—then another.

Three movements. Three strikes.

Silence returned.

The girl stared at him, stunned, breathing hard.

Saburu knelt beside the injured companions and reached into his bag.

“Healing potion,” he said, holding it out.

She hesitated—but took it.

As the potion worked, color returned to their faces.

Tears welled in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, bowing deeply. “My name is Serena.”

Saburu nodded once.

Then he turned away.

“…Wait!” she called.

He didn’t stop.

Because staying felt dangerous.

Because being remembered still scared him.

Behind him, Serena clenched her fists.

She hadn’t even learned his name.

Status Window

Saburu sat beneath a tree and exhaled.

“Alright… show me.”

A blue screen appeared.

Name: Saburu

Level: 20

HP: 200

Mana: 100

Defense: 25

Agility: 19

Magic: 30

Unassigned Points: 20

“…A system,” he murmured. “Figures.”

Another window followed.

Inventory

Iron Dagger (Attack +20)

Healing Potion ×3

Mana Potion ×2

Dried Boar Meat ×2 stacks

Silver Coins ×20

Gold Coins ×2

Copper Coins ×30

Eye of Orc ×1

He closed the window.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “I’ll walk this world… my way.”

And for the first time—

He didn’t feel like running because he was unwanted.

He walked because he chose to move forward.

3 months later he earn 10,000 and buy a slave

The story continues

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