Assassin Rankings competition.

The air at the training grounds was a mixture of sweat, tension, and the metallic tang of fear. It clung to the damp stone walls that surrounded it, seeped into their training gear, and coated the back of Little Seven's throat even when she wasn't running. Today, the "Endurance Circuit" was designed less for physical exertion and more for breaking the mind.

A shrill whistle pierced the dim light of the main hall, echoing, which made Little Seven flinch, but quickly caught herself, forcing her gaze forward. She had a feeling she'd be joining whoever was screaming if she didn't mind her own business.

Her team members stood rigidly beside her, their faces grim, muscles already aching from the dawn's forced march. They were all older, stronger, and more experienced. All except her and Big Brother Seko.

"Round Seven," Captain Vince's flat voice barked from the shadows. His cold eyes held a calculating glint of a predator. "Four minutes, ninety seconds."

Four minutes, ninety seconds!

That was their allocated time for the 'disassembly-reassembly-target elimination' drill, which is simple enough on paper. But they had to do it blindfolded, after a two-hour session of high-intensity grappling, with the sound of a looped recording of screaming children blasting through hidden speakers.

Little Seven felt a familiar tremor begin in her hands, not from weakness, but from the raw, amplified sensory input that was both her gift and her curse. The screams tore at her, pulling at something deep and buried she barely understood.

Her enhanced hearing turned them into a physical assault. She turned her head to look at Seko, who seemed to have better endurance than she did. Determined not to be left behind by her teammates, she clenched her jaw, biting back a whimper. 

Focus, Little Seven. Focus.

A thick, rough cloth was shoved into her hands when it was her turn. She quickly tied it around her eyes, plunging herself into instant darkness. The world narrowed to sound, touch, and the phantom sensation of her throbbing muscles. The screams intensified, seeming to warp and shift, morphing into whispers that felt like accusations.

"Go!" Vince's voice was a whip.

She moved. Her fingers, small but incredibly nimble, found the cold steel of the disassembled handgun parts scattered on the mat before her. She'd practiced this hundreds of times, her mind mapping every groove, every pin, every spring. But the noise, the crushing fatigue, made every movement a strenuous effort.

Click. The firing pin. Slide. The barrel. Her breath hitched. The image of a small, frightened face of a little girl being protected against four tigers flashed behind her eyelids. She shoved it down, down into the dark abyss she was learning to dig inside herself. 

Her teammates worked beside her, their grunts and the faint sounds of metal on metal her only anchors in the swirling chaos. She could hear CJ's ragged breathing and Hawk's sharp, efficient movements besides her. They were good. They had to be.

Their lives and their rank depended on it. Vince had made them undergo a hellish training this whole month because of the upcoming Assassin rankings competition.

A sharp, metallic snap confirmed her success. The handgun was assembled. She ripped off the blindfold, blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim light. The screaming stopped abruptly. The silence was almost worse.

In front of her, a blurred target swung into view, a silhouette against a grimy wall. It wasn't human-shaped. It was a small, furry animal. A…A rabbit. Her stomach twisted, but her hand was already raising the weapon. The scent of ozone, a residual from previous rounds, filled her nostrils.

It's not real, Little Seven. It's not real. She chanted inside her head.

She aimed at it. Her genetic enhancements, usually a blessing, felt like a spotlight on her every weakness. She had noticed that her eyes were sharper than a normal human's. They picked out the faint details of the rabbit's simulated fur, the slight sway of the chain. Her mind, quicker, processed the trajectory, the air current, the subtle tremor in her hand, and converged it all into one single, devastating point.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The shots echoed as the rabbit swung wildly, a perfect hole through its painted head. What a pity, it would have made a good lunch. Little Seven thought with a subtle smile on her face.

Vince's voice, devoid of emotion, clicked his stopwatch. " Little Seven, three minutes, forty-five seconds. Mark."

A gasp of surprise rippled through her teammates. Even Seko, who was usually stoic, turned his head slightly, with slight approval in his eyes. This little girl was improving faster than he had anticipated.

Her time was not just good; it was exceptional. It almost beat his own record of three minutes, forty-three seconds, and beat the records of other members. She was the youngest, the newest, but her improvement curve was a vertical line.

Hawk dragged CJ towards her and gave her a high five. "Great job, Little Seven! But you've got to go easy on Big Brother, where would I put my face if everyone found out you beat my record? Be good, don't make me look bad!"

Little Seven giggled at the frustration which was visible on Hawk's face, while CJ snorted when he saw his buddy acting cute in front of the little girl. This guy was good at being shameless, he could kill people without batting his eye, but he was now acting as if killing a rabbit was a big deal to him.

CJ couldn't help but cast a careful glance at the little girl. Initially, he hadn't even bothered to give her more than a passing look, dismissing her as someone unlikely to survive even a week in this harsh place. He viewed her as a burden, especially after Manu sacrificed himself to protect her.

However, over time, he had witnessed her gradual improvement, and her progress was undeniable. What once seemed insignificant in the beginning now stood out as remarkable. Even when they first joined the team two years ago, they were nowhere near as quick, resilient, or determined as she was.

 The brief moment of triumph, however, was immediately crushed under Vince's next words.

"Next drill. Urban Evasion – Scenario Four. You only have thirty seconds to prepare."

There was no rest and no time to savor the small victory. That was the essence of the hellish training. They were not allowed to be proud, or tired, or even human. They were being forged into weapons, and the competition was merely the final annealing process.

Little Seven pushed the image of the dead rabbit from her mind, shoved the gun back into its holster, and ran to her next station. She could still feel the murderous glares coming her way; she didn't have to turn her head to know it was Yakama.

Over the past few weeks, she had learned to live with such glares. She suspected he was behind the accident where she almost drowned in the river, but there was no hurry at all; she would settle her scores with him after the competition. She will definitely get her revenge.

The little girl had no idea that while her body might be adapting, her soul, if she still possessed one, was slowly being chipped away, piece by painful piece.

That afternoon during the lunch hour, the compound buzzed with anticipation. The organization was holding the competition, which happened every two years, which was an elite test to rank all the assassins and determine who would advance in the assassin hierarchy.

Whispers among teams spread like wildfire, excitement mixing with dread. The ranks S, A, B, C, D, E, and F were a mark of power and survival. Only one person had ever held the coveted A rank: the right-hand man of the Big Boss, Tiger, but he was very mysterious. There was a rumor that Zain would only activate him when ZERO was facing a dangerous opponent who was a threat to the organization.

For Little Seven and her teammates, this was the culmination of all their brutal training, as Vince had already increased the intensity of their training.

The past month, they would wake up at four in the morning to start training, and yet, in the days leading up to the competition, Little Seven couldn't shake a growing unease.

Someone was watching her; she could feel it right up to her bones.