The master of the house calls the tune.

After a Half an hour-long battle of magic and combat, The Countess staggered, her breath shallow and labored. Her body ached, each movement a reminder of the brutal assault she had just endured. Her arms hung at her sides, blood dripping from the countless wounds that marred her body. The inferno of battle had long since faded, leaving behind nothing but the suffocating silence of defeat. She could barely keep herself upright, her vision blurred and her thoughts scattered. Every inch of her being screamed in agony.

I've used everything, she thought to herself, her mind spiraling into dark corners. All my power... gone.

Glide stood over her, a silent predator, blood dripping from her daggers as she watched the Countess struggle to remain standing. Her eyes were cold, and the satisfaction in her gaze was unmistakable.

"You're pathetic," Glide hissed, her voice sharp and cruel. "This is the end for you."

Countess's mind raced, piecing together what had happened, what was about to happen. Ikos... he's still in danger. He's so close to passing out. And Mindy, Sally... all of them.

She was barely aware of the beastman approaching, holding the broken forms of the other three. Mindy, Sally, and Rosie, their bodies battered and limp, were thrown at her feet like discarded toys. The beastman sneered, his eyes cold and cruel as he dropped the women unceremoniously beside the Countess.

Countess could barely process the sight before her—the faces of her comrades, all bloodied and broken. This... I couldn't protect them. I failed.

Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and strained as she reached out, but there was no strength left in her limbs. Her body trembled, her thoughts clouded by the overwhelming weight of failure.

"I... I'm sorry..." Ikos's voice was faint, barely audible, but she could hear it—his guilt. His regret. His words cut deeper than any physical wound.

The beastman grinned, his malicious eyes flickering toward the masked man. "They're all together now. Can't escape this time, can they?"

The masked man, still standing unaffected by the carnage around him, looked down at the battered group. He observed them with cold amusement, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Now you understand how stupid all of this was," he said, his words deliberate and cutting. "You should have begged. Maybe if you had, those old men would have been alive. But now... it's too late. This is the price of defiance."

The Countess's body trembled with anger, with frustration. If I had just... if I had been stronger...

Shaun stood at the broken gate of his once-grand mansion, his sharp, youthful features contrasting with the cold glint in his eyes. At just ten years old, he carried himself with the confidence of someone far older and infinitely more dangerous. Ignis and Umbra, his two bird familiars, circled above him, their ominous cries piercing the otherwise dead silence of the estate.

He ran a hand through his messy black hair, his annoyance palpable as he surveyed the wreckage. The grand stairs lay in ruin, his carefully chosen furnishings smashed beyond recognition, and scorch marks marred the intricate walls.

"Oh, look at what those bastards have done to my mansion," Shaun muttered, irritation dripping from every word. "It was already in bad shape, but that doesn't mean they can just bulldoze it. How annoying." He sighed, kicking aside a broken vase with a calculated nudge. "They're definitely not street thugs if they managed to pull off this level of destruction. This feels... coordinated."

As he walked, his boots crunching against the shattered debris, a group of assassins emerged from the shadows. Their eyes glinted with murderous intent as they wordlessly rushed at him, weapons drawn.

But before their blades could even reach him, they simply ceased to exist. Three heads fell to the floor simultaneously, their bodies crumpling like lifeless dolls. Shaun's sword gleamed in the dim light, though he hadn't even broken stride.

"Idiots," he murmured under his breath, sheathing the blade with a flick of his wrist. "You really think I'd skulk around in my own house like a thief? I'll take the main gate any day."

With that, Shaun pushed open the mansion's shattered doors, stepping into the chaos within. Behind him, corpses littered the entrance, their blood pooling in the broken marble floor. He didn't even spare them a glance.

"Gods... they destroyed the stairs, the table, everything. This place is in the worst state possible!" Shaun shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined halls. The anger in his tone was genuine, not from the carnage but from the blatant disregard for his property.

His tirade was cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. A towering figure, the giant assassin, rounded the corner, his massive sledgehammer slung over one shoulder. He paused mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the boy.

"Hey, kid," the giant rumbled, his voice a deep growl. "What are you doing here? How did you get past the spell? Doesn't look like it's broken."

Shaun tilted his head, his expression one of mild annoyance. "That's a weird question to ask the master of the house, don't you think? Shouldn't intruders like you be the ones explaining why you're in my mansion, breaking my things, and sitting around like you own the place?" He gave a slight smirk, his gaze sharp as a blade. "As for the spell, I left it active. Figured it'd be more fun if no one could hear your screams."

The giant's face twisted into an expression of fury, veins bulging in his neck. "Oh, so you're that Shaun brat everyone's been going on about. Good. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down. Now I can finish this job and collect my pay."

The giant swung his massive hammer off his shoulder, hoisting it high. "Tell me, kid, how would you like to die?" he sneered before hurling the weapon at Shaun with devastating force.

Shaun didn't flinch. As the hammer hurtled toward him, he caught it mid-air with one hand, the impact barely shifting him an inch. His grip tightened around the weapon's handle, and with a quick motion, he snapped the sledgehammer in two as if it were made of dry twigs. The pieces clattered to the floor.

The giant froze in disbelief, his jaw slack. "Wha—"

Before he could finish, Shaun moved. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, appearing before the giant with lightning speed. His small fist, glowing faintly with concentrated mana, slammed into the giant's face with such force that the man's skull caved in. Blood and shards of bone splattered everywhere as the giant staggered back, his eyes rolling into his head.

The giant let out an agonized scream, clutching his ruined face, but Shaun wasn't finished. With cold precision, he delivered a spinning kick to the man's neck, the impact shattering bone. The giant's body went limp as he crumpled to the ground with a thunderous crash, the floor trembling under his massive weight.

Shaun wiped a splatter of blood from his cheek, his expression calm and unbothered. "What a waste of a perfectly good hammer," he muttered before stepping over the body and continuing his path through the mansion.

Shaun ascended the broken staircase leading to the fourth floor, each step echoing in the hollow silence of his devastated mansion. His pace was unhurried, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage as if committing every bit of destruction to memory. The closer he got to the fourth floor, the more his sharp, predatory senses picked up. The faint sound of muffled voices reached his ears, and he recognized them immediately. It was the assassins—and the scent of blood and death grew stronger.

"So they made it this far," Shaun muttered to himself, his voice low but cold. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as his aura intensified, the air around him becoming suffocatingly dense with hostility.

battered door leading to the fourth floor, he paused. His fingers brushed over the scorch marks and cracks marring its surface. "Even my favorite room," he murmured, a flicker of annoyance breaking through his cold demeanor. "Where am I supposed to train now?" He sighed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "They've destroyed the enchantments with brute force—took them all night, I bet. No sense of subtlety. No finesse." He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "I'll make them pay for every single coin and in every way possible."

as shaun walked inside the fourth floor he finds more sign of fight and conflcit and damge and finally his eye met those behind it

The masked man stood at the far end of the floor, his arms crossed as he observed the destruction with an air of detached amusement. Glide was wiping blood from her daggers, her lips twisted into a cruel smile as she cast glances toward the Countess, who was slumped against the wall, battered and barely conscious. Ikos lay nearby, his body motionless save for the faint rise and fall of his chest, while Sally, Mindy, and Rosie were sprawled in a heap, broken but alive.

As the door opened, the masked man turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the boy standing in the doorway. His expression didn't change at first, but there was a flicker of something—a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

"Well, well," the masked man said, his voice smooth and mocking. "The boy himself. Shaun. The one everyone keeps whispering about. I must say, you're smaller than I expected." He gestured theatrically at the destruction. "What do you think of the new look we've given your house? A bit of a mess, but I'd say it's an improvement."

Shaun stepped into the room, his face unreadable. His small frame seemed almost out of place in the grand, war-torn hall, but the oppressive aura he exuded left no doubt about his presence.

"You're the one behind all this?" Shaun's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut steel.

The masked man chuckled

Glide sneered, flipping one of her daggers in her hand. "So, this is the kid everyone's making a fuss about? I thought he'd be taller."

"Run, kid!" the Countess croaked weakly, struggling to lift her head. "This is beyond you. You'll just—"

Shaun didn't even glance her way. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the broken, lifeless bodies of Harold and Smith. The faintest twitch crossed his face, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade.

"Which one of you butchered them?" he asked, his voice quiet but heavy, like the calm before a storm. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, the air thick with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Glide opened her mouth to respond, but the masked man raised a hand, silencing her. "They were stubborn, your servants," he said, his tone light but taunting. "But no match for us. You should've stayed hidden, boy. Coming here was the last mistake you'll ever make."

Shaun tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. "You're wrong about one thing."

The masked man arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

"This isn't my last mistake," Shaun said as he drew his blade in a smooth, fluid motion. The air around him rippled with raw power as the sword began to glow with a faint, otherworldly light. "It's yours."

Before the masked man could respond, the beastman lunged at Shaun, his massive claws tearing through the air with terrifying speed. But just as his instincts screamed danger, it was too late. Shaun's blade transformed in an instant, reshaping into a sleek firearm. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

A blazing inferno erupted from the gun's muzzle, engulfing the beastman in an unrelenting torrent of flame. The creature howled in agony, his screams piercing as the magical flames devoured him, burning through flesh, muscle, and bone. The masked man quickly cast a water spell in an attempt to extinguish the flames, but the fire didn't waver. It clung to the beastman like a living entity, fueled by Shaun's unyielding mana.

Moments later, the beastman collapsed, reduced to ash and embers, his screams silenced forever. His charred remains crumbled to the floor, leaving nothing behind but scorched stone and a lingering sense of dread.

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Shaun slowly lowered his weapon, his gaze locking onto the masked man.

Shaun stepped forward, his gaze cold and unrelenting, his voice eerily calm as he asked, "Which one of you was responsible for killing my servants?"

Glide let out a laugh, sharp and cruel, as she twirled her dagger. "Hah! I did it! And what are you gonna do about it, brat?" She smirked, her confidence oozing arrogance. Without waiting for a response, she surged forward, her body crackling with energy as she infused her dagger with her strongest magic. "Lightning Cat Cleave!" she roared, her attack blurring with speed as she aimed for his throat.

The masked man's voice cut through the air, a sharp warning. "No, Glide! Don't—"

But it was too late.

Shaun didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't even blink. The blade struck him squarely, the charged lightning magic crackling and sparking as it made contact—only to dissipate like a puff of smoke. Glide's expression twisted from triumphant glee to stunned disbelief as she realized her attack had done absolutely nothing. His aura swallowed the energy whole, his body untouched.

"Oh, is that so?" Shaun murmured, his tone low and icy. His hand shot out with lightning speed, gripping her wrist in a vice-like hold before she could retreat. His eyes, now gleaming with a beast-like intensity, locked onto hers, sending a chill down her spine. "Thanks for your honesty," he continued, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of menace. "As a reward, I'll reduce your punishment… by two percent."

The words, spoken so casually, hit Glide harder than any weapon could. Her bravado crumbled in an instant, replaced by a paralyzing fear she'd never felt before. Her dagger slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor as she stared into Shaun's predatory gaze, unable to move.

"You should feel honored," Shaun added, his grip tightening just enough to make her wince. Then, without warning, he drove his fist into her gut with devastating force. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through her body, her eyes rolling back as the air was driven from her lungs. A strangled gasp escaped her lips before she collapsed, unconscious, her body crumpling to the floor like a broken doll.

Shaun stood over her motionless form, his expression as calm and detached as ever. He released a small sigh, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve. "I'll deal with you later," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "You should consider yourself lucky. Most don't get a second chance."