Fangs In The Dark

The masked warriors encircled Jin Tae-Hyun, their weapons gleaming under the pale moonlight. They moved without sound, their footsteps weightless against the dirt.

Assassins.

Jin's fingers tightened around his sword. His body was still recovering from the brutal fight with Wu-Jin, but exhaustion wasn't an excuse. The moment he showed weakness, they would strike.

The masked leader tilted their head. "You don't seem surprised."

Jin smirked, shifting his stance. "I'd be more surprised if no one came after me."

There was a brief silence.

Then, the leader moved.

A single step forward.

The signal.

The air exploded with motion.

Jin dodged the first strike, parrying the second with a sharp clang of steel. A blade scraped past his shoulder, slicing through his robe but missing flesh. He countered instantly, twisting his sword to drive a knee into his attacker's ribs.

A grunt. A stumble.

But no hesitation.

The assassins fought like wolves, their strikes coordinated and relentless. They weren't here to test him. They were here to kill him.

Jin's smirk widened. "Not bad."

But not enough.

He shifted his weight, using the momentum of an incoming attack to spin—his blade flashing in the dark. A spray of blood. A body hit the ground.

Then another.

Two down.

More to go.

The remaining assassins didn't hesitate. They adjusted instantly, tightening their formation. The leader lunged, their sword moving too fast for the eye to follow.

Jin barely dodged, feeling the wind of the strike against his neck.

Fast.

He countered, aiming for a quick kill—only for his blade to be deflected. The leader was already moving again, their attacks pushing Jin onto the defensive.

His smirk faltered.

Annoying.

He needed to end this now.

Jin feinted left, drawing the leader into an opening—then kicked a fallen corpse into their path. It was only a fraction of a second.

But that was all he needed.

His sword flashed.

A clean cut.

The leader staggered, clutching their shoulder as blood dripped down their sleeve.

Jin exhaled, rolling his neck. "Still want to keep going?"

The leader didn't answer. They simply took a step back.

A retreat?

No.

Something was wrong.

The other assassins stopped moving. Their formation shifted, creating space.

For what?

Jin's eyes narrowed.

Then, he felt it.

A presence.

A real threat.

The treetops rustled. And then, in a single, effortless motion—he landed.

A man draped in dark robes, his expression unreadable. His aura was suffocating, pressing against Jin like an unseen force.

Not an assassin.

Something worse.

The masked leader dropped to one knee. "Master."

Jin clicked his tongue. Of course.

A master-ranked warrior.

The real fight was just beginning.