Refinement

Observation. Analysis. Execution.

These three words had defined my existence. They were not just principles but instincts, sharpened over years of calculated precision.

And now, they were what I needed most.

Someone had already tried to kill me, and I had barely lived in this new world.

Why?

"Sage, how old is this kid?"

Twelve. Just twelve. And already, I had enemies lurking in the shadows. What did this boy possess that someone feared so much?

Succession.

Of course. Someone wanted to ensure that I never grew strong enough to claim my rightful place.

I exhaled.

Then I'll just have to get stronger. Fast.

I pushed myself up from the bed, standing without hesitation.

The last time I tried this, my body had nearly collapsed under its own weight. But now?

I felt stable. Solid.

I stepped to the center of the room, inhaling deeply before I moved.

One step turned into a burst of speed—my form a blur as I darted from one side to the other.

I stopped—pivoted.

Then launched forward again.

Faster. I needed to be faster.

My muscles responded with a raw energy that hadn't existed before. This body, once frail, now moved with the precision of a fully trained warrior.

I jumped.

The ceiling came dangerously close.

I twisted midair, flipping before landing without a single sound.

I exhaled, a smirk creeping onto my lips.

Good.

I was physically capable. I could move again. Which meant it was time to see if I still had what made me truly dangerous.

I turned toward the open balcony. The cool morning wind carried a gentle breeze through the estate.

Ezra Vael had been a ghost.

Even warriors of the highest caliber had struggled to sense my presence. I had erased myself from the world, moving undetected through the most heavily guarded fortresses.

Could I still do that?

I moved toward the door, stepping lightly.

No sound.

A good start. But it wasn't enough.

I adjusted my stance, channeling Ki through my body. It felt foreign at first, as if I were using a new muscle. But then—

It clicked.

I leaped toward the balcony, landing with no impact. No disturbance.

I stood on the wooden rail, overlooking the estate.

A smirk tugged at my lips. Still got it.

From my vantage point, I took in the grandeur of the Ryoma estate.

The architecture radiated discipline, tradition, honor. I had been so focused on regaining my abilities that I had barely considered my new identity.

Kaito Ryoma.

The son of a king. The heir to a samurai legacy.

With that came expectations. Responsibilities.

I wasn't just another assassin lurking in the shadows anymore.

I needed to understand what it truly meant to be a samurai.

I leaped from the railing, landing without a single sound.

A group of guards stood near the courtyard—an opportunity to test my stealth.

I moved.

A blur of motion, weaving through their ranks. Not a single one reacted.

Nothing.

Sage, are you assisting me?

I see.

Everything I just did… was instinct.

Even in this body, I was still the same. I could still disappear when I wanted to.

But being an assassin wouldn't be enough anymore.

I returned to my room, knowing my next step.

"Sage, tell me everything about samurai traditions."

A sharp buzz pulsed through my mind. Then—knowledge flooded in.

Honor. Discipline. Loyalty.

These were the core tenets of a samurai warrior.

They weren't just soldiers—they were masters of both combat and philosophy. Their swords were wielded not for murder, but for duty.

Unlike assassins, who thrived in the shadows, samurai walked in the light.

They did not kill for convenience but for justice.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples.

"…Interesting."

For the first time, not just in this world, but even in my past, I realized—assassination alone would not be enough.

If I wanted to thrive, I had to become something greater.

I sat on my bed, settling into a meditative stance.

"Sage, how's my Ki control?"

I closed my eyes, drawing a slow breath.

I felt my Ki instantly.

It was vast—an endless ocean.

But unlike mana, it did not wait to be pulled.

Ki was alive.

It flowed with my breathing, pulsing with every beat of my heart.

The first time I tried, I had felt resistance.

Now?

It moved with me.

I let it expand, feeling the warmth spread from my core, flowing into every limb.

No hesitation. No struggle.

For the first time, I was in complete control.

I opened my eyes, a quiet laugh escaping me.

"Thanks."

This was only the beginning.

I had gained strength. Understanding. A path.

But there was still much more to learn.

I had to be unmatched.

THIRD PERSON POV

The grand halls of Ryoma Palace gleamed under the soft glow of golden lanterns, their intricate carvings and lavish decor reflecting the wealth and power of its rulers. Every surface was polished to perfection, the scent of fresh incense lingering in the air.

A lone figure walked with purpose through these corridors—a boy, no older than ten, yet carrying himselffe with the guise of someone much older. His sharp features bore a resemblance to Kaito, enough to make passing servants do a double take. The resemblance was striking, almost eerie.

As he strolled, snippets of hushed conversations flitted past his ears like whispers carried by the wind.

"Three months? How did he even survive that long?" a maid murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Who knows? It was a miracle," another replied with a resigned shake of her head.

The boy smirked. A miracle, huh? He supposed that was one way to describe it.

With a confident stride, he continued his path, his presence alone commanding silent bows from the staff. He paid them little mind, his focus set on a singular goal. It had been far too long since he last saw his brother.

His steps quickened. Anticipation thrummed through his veins.

Reaching his destination, he didn't bother with pleasantries. Instead, he slid the grand doors open with a resounding slam.

"Brother!"

But the sight that met his eyes was nothing short of shocking.

His confident smirk wavered. His breath hitched.

What in the world…?