Draggarius

Kaito Renzaki, a ruthless contract killer, meets his end in a brutal betrayal—only to awaken as Jin Tae-Hyun, a weak, arrogant noble in the Murim world. Destined to die as a minor villain, he refuses to accept his fate.

Armed with an assassin’s instincts and a lifetime of deception, Kaito will carve his own path. He is not a warrior. He is a killer. And in a world where strength reigns supreme, he will rise—not as a forgotten side character, but as a force that reshapes Murim itself.

But his rise does not go unnoticed. Powerful sects, hidden warlords, and even the protagonist stand in his way.

Will he remain a villain lurking in the shadows?

Or will he become something far more dangerous?

Blood Reforged

The training grounds had been transformed.

Rows of wooden benches lined the edges, filled with disciples of all ranks. The towering banners of the Southern Edge Sect fluttered in the wind, their crescent blade insignia gleaming under the mid-morning sun.

At the center of it all stood the Arena of the Four Pillars, an open battlefield where disciples clashed to prove their worth.

This was no ordinary sparring match.

This was the Sect's Internal Selection—a brutal, merciless trial where the strong climbed higher, and the weak were cast aside.

For Jin Tae-Hyun—for Kaito—this was his first step toward survival.

Elder Baek stood at the forefront, his sharp gaze sweeping across the assembled disciples. Behind him, Elder Cho remained silent, observing, while Jin Mu-Seong watched from the sect leader's balcony.

"Today, you will fight," Elder Baek announced, his voice firm and unwavering. "Your victories will determine your worth. Your failures will decide your fate."

A ripple of tension spread through the crowd.

Kaito kept his breathing steady, his assassin instincts analyzing every movement, every nervous glance, every overconfident smirk.

They were warriors—strong, disciplined, but bound by technique and honor. Predictable.

Elder Baek raised his hand. "First match—Jin Tae-Hyun versus Kang Seong-Min!"

Kang Seong-Min was a brute of a disciple—tall, heavily built, and known for his raw strength. A warrior who had spent years sharpening his body into a weapon.

A noble. A failure. A man who had never once won a match in the selection.

Kaito stepped forward, his grip on his training sword loose, casual. Across from him, Seong-Min rolled his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Try not to cry, Young Master," he mocked, drawing his blade.

Oh, you have no idea what's coming.

The moment Elder Baek's hand dropped, Seong-Min charged.

Kaito saw it all. The tensing of his muscles, the tightening of his grip. His opponent was relying on brute force—a mistake.

Seong-Min swung down in a crushing arc.

Kaito sidestepped at the last moment.

The wooden blade crashed into the ground, sending dust into the air. Before Seong-Min could recover, Kaito struck.

A sharp, precise elbow to the side of his neck.

Seong-Min stumbled, eyes widening in shock. That wasn't a Murim move.

Kaito didn't let him recover. He slid behind him, twisting his wrist as he brought his sword up—striking the back of Seong-Min's knee.

A heartbeat later, Kaito's blade was at his throat.

Seong-Min's breath came out ragged. He tried to move, but Kaito pressed his blade against his neck, just enough for the message to be clear.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, disbelief turning into whispers.

"Did you see that movement? That wasn't normal swordplay."

Kaito simply stepped back, lowering his blade.

Seong-Min was still on the ground, dazed, humiliated. He had lost in less than ten seconds.

Kaito turned without another glance.

The ranking selection had just begun.

And he was done being looked down on.

As Kaito walked away, he felt eyes on him.

The senior disciple's smirk had faded. His sharp eyes now held something else.

And for the first time, the true warriors of the sect noticed.

Kaito exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

Because he wasn't here to survive.

A Blade in the Arena