THE SILENT PRICE OF BLOOD

As at the Night draped the town in shadows. The usual hum of distant voices and street vendors had long faded, replaced by the rhythmic chirping of insects and the occasional rustle of the wind. Inside his small home, Nayra sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, his breathing slow and controlled. His parents were fast asleep in the adjacent room, their bodies still adjusting to the effects of the Bone-Tempering Weed. 

That was when he sensed them. 

Two distinct presences. 

The first one… Strong, sharp, carrying the aura of disciplined warriors. Red Hawk Faction. 

"So, Liam sent his dogs after me?" Nayra mused, his lips curling in amusement. 

Red Hawk Faction prided itself on freedom and strength, but they were just as bound by their own beliefs as any other. They must have assumed that because Nayra had obtained the Bone-Tempering Weed, he had not yet consumed it. 

"Fools." 

The second presence… It slithered through the air like a creeping mist, filled with greed, desire, and malice. This was unmistakably Golden Snake Faction. 

"Interesting… Two factions, one target. Me." 

Nayra closed his eyes, feeling the ripples of their energy shift in the night air. They were unaware of each other. 

A small chuckle escaped his lips. 

"Perfect." 

He stood up, careful not to make a sound. Moving towards the dimly lit hallway, he peeked out the window. Three Red Hawk members stood in the alleyway adjacent to his home. Their chakra signatures were restrained, hidden just enough to avoid detection from ordinary eyes. 

They whispered among themselves. 

"Are you sure the brat hasn't used it yet?" A gruff voice—likely their leader—muttered. 

"Liam said he's a coward," another scoffed. "If he had consumed it, we'd already see changes in his body." 

"If we take it now, we can split it before dawn," the third added greedily. 

Nayra smirked. Fools. 

Then—another ripple. 

Further down the street, concealed behind a merchant's abandoned stall, he felt Golden Snake's presence shift. 

"Damn Red Hawks are already here," a hushed voice hissed. 

"If they take the weed first, Sistie won't be pleased," another whispered back, tension lacing their words. 

"Should we just kill them?" 

A plan snapped into place in Nayra's mind. 

Two enemies. One outcome. 

"I don't need to fight them… I just need them to fight each other." 

Nayra took a deep breath, then moved. 

With absolute precision, he adjusted his voice due to he can because of Demonic Art practice and whispered—just loud enough for Red Hawk Faction to hear. 

"Golden Snakes always slither in the dark, huh?" 

The effect was immediate. 

The three Red Hawk members froze, turning sharply toward the alley's entrance. 

"What was that?" the leader growled, hand instinctively going to his dagger. 

Golden Snake's presence shifted, their suppressed bloodlust flickering in response. 

Then— 

"We've been spotted!" 

The whisper came from Golden Snake's hiding spot, though none of them had actually spoken. 

Nayra had thrown his voice, directing it just right. 

Red Hawk reacted as expected. 

"Those damn Golden Snakes are trying to ambush us!" the leader snarled. 

One of them rushed forward, drawing his dagger. The others followed, chakra flaring as they confronted their unseen rivals. 

Golden Snake, caught off guard, had no choice but to engage. 

"Kill them!" a Snake member hissed, blades flashing in the moonlight. 

Steel met steel. A grunt of pain. 

"You bastards—!" 

Nayra leaned against the wall of his home, watching as chaos unfolded outside. His grin widened as he heard the first pained grunt, followed by the wet sound of blood hitting stone. 

"That's one down." 

Nayra never needed to fight them. 

He just needed to make them believe that they had already lost. 

Tonight, they thought they came to hunt him. 

But in reality— 

They were the prey. 

From the shadows, Nayra watched as the two factions tore into each other, their hatred and greed blinding them to the truth. 

"Fools," he murmured, shaking his head. "You should have known better than to hunt a ghost." 

And with that, he melted back into the darkness, leaving them to their fate. 

The hunt had only just begun.

The alley reeked of sweat and iron as the two factions clashed, their earlier skirmish reignited with fresh fury. Nayra watched from the shadows, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm against his thigh.

Then—he stepped forward. 

Moonlight cut across his face as he emerged, his voice slicing through the chaos like a knife. 

"You fight like starving dogs over a scrap of meat." 

The words landed with deliberate weight. Blades stilled. Heads turned. 

A Red Hawk warrior, his lip split and bleeding, spat on the ground. "Shut your mouth, brat. You think this is a game?" 

Nayra tilted his head, amused. "Isn't it?" 

A Golden Snake fighter, her knuckles white around the hilt of her dagger, narrowed her eyes. "You're the one who started this. You lured us here." 

"Me?" Nayra pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I was just standing in my own home when armed thugs decided to pay me a visit. Tell me—who really started this?" 

Silence. 

Then, a low chuckle escaped him. "But since you're all so eager to die for a prize you don't even have… why not make it interesting?" 

He reached into his sleeve—slow, deliberate—and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. The faintest shimmer of energy pulsed from it. 

Every eye locked onto it. 

"The Bone-Tempering Weed," a Red Hawk member breathed. 

"Still fresh," Nayra confirmed, letting the cloth fall open just enough to reveal a glimpse of the glowing herb before snapping it shut again. "And still very much for sale." 

A Golden Snake fighter licked his lips. "Name your price." 

Nayra grinned. "Two things. First—" He gestured to the bloodied alley. "Prove you're the stronger faction. Wipe them out." 

The Red Hawks tensed. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his nose, barked out a laugh. "You expect us to believe you'll just hand it over after?" 

"Of course not," Nayra said smoothly. "Which brings me to the second price." He held up two fingers. "One hundred gold coins. To the winner." 

A sharp inhale from the Golden Snake side. "That's robbery!" 

"No," Nayra corrected. *"That's business." 

For a heartbeat, the alley was dead silent. 

Then— 

A Red Hawk fighter lunged first, his sword aimed at the Snake fighter throat. 

"Kill them all!" 

The battle erupted anew, fiercer than before. Blades flashed, bodies collided, and the stench of blood thickened in the air. 

Nayra leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with detached interest as men and women who had trained for years tore each other apart for a chance at power. 

A dying Red Hawk warrior crawled toward him, his fingers leaving smears of red on the stones. "You… bastard…" 

Nayra crouched beside him, tilting his head. "Me? I didn't make you greedy. I just pointed you at each other." 

The man's breath rattled—then stilled. 

Standing, Nayra sighed and brushed dust off his knees. "Humans really are predictable." 

By dawn, only one faction would remain. 

And he? 

He'd be long gone—richer, and with fewer enemies to worry about.

Nayra stood there, bathed in moonlight, watching the carnage unfold with a twisted grin stretching across his face. 

He had seen war before. He had seen massacres, betrayals, and battles between gods and devils in his previous life. 

This? 

This was nothing more than a bunch of fools clawing at each other for a dream that didn't exist. 

Because the Bone-Tempering Weed he promised them? 

It was fake. 

Days before, Nayra had planned ahead. 

He bought a fake Bone-Tempering Weed from an underground dealer. These merchants made forgeries that looked real, smelled real, even felt real—but in truth, they were worthless. 

The only problem? Under normal light, an expert could still tell the difference. 

But Nayra? 

He wasn't normal. 

He had coated the fake weed with Moonstone Dust—a rare mineral that made anything glow with an ethereal brilliance under the moonlight. It blurred the fine differences between the real and the fake, making it nearly impossible for these brainless thugs to notice the deception. 

"Idiots." Nayra chuckled under his breath. 

They were killing each other over nothing. 

The real Bone-Tempering Weed? 

That was long gone—already consumed by his parents. 

But these fools would never know. 

Steel clashed against steel. Fists slammed into ribs. The ground was soaked in blood 

A Red Hawk warrior ripped a Golden Snake fighter's arm from its socket, but before he could celebrate, a dagger was plunged into his throat. 

"More coins! We'll give you more coins, just hand it over!" one of the Red Hawks shouted, blood dripping down his temple. 

"Not a chance! This belongs to us!" a Golden Snake warrior roared, swinging his axe. 

Nayra, leaning lazily against a stone pillar, fought the urge to laugh. 

"Ah… humans. Give them hope, and they'll slaughter their own brothers for it." 

He tilted his head, watching another head roll across the ground. 

This was better than any stage performance. 

A war created by a single lie.

And all he had to do—was watch.

The Moment of Silence-

The war had turned into a massacre. 

Blood soaked the earth. Corpses piled on top of each other. 

The last few survivors—wounded, barely standing—clutched their weapons with trembling hands. 

Then, they felt it. 

A presence. 

An abyss staring back at them. 

Nayra exhaled. 

A cold wind swept through the battlefield. 

For a moment, it was as if time itself had stopped. 

Then— 

—Terror. 

Their minds screamed. Their bodies froze. 

This wasn't just fear. This was absolute despair. 

It was the same sensation a deer felt when staring into the eyes of a beast **that had already decided its death. 

"H-how…?" One of them stammered, his sword rattling in his grip. 

A boy. 

A four-year-old with no chakra unlocked. 

Yet the pressure he emitted… was something even veterans of war could barely endure. 

How? 

"I didn't kill you at the start," Nayra said, stepping forward, his voice eerily calm, "because the Black Wolf Faction was watching." 

He tilted his head, watching their expressions twist in horror. 

"But they've left now." 

A step forward. 

The remaining warriors staggered back.

"So I can finally kill you all."

The first to move was a Golden Snake warrior—he lunged forward, sword gleaming under the moonlight. 

—Too slow. 

Nayra twisted his body, his footwork flawless. His fingertips brushed against the man's wrist. 

"Demonic Art: Second Form—Vein Snare." 

A single press. 

The warrior's veins exploded. 

He dropped his sword, his body convulsing as blood gushed from his pores. 

"A-AHHH!" 

Dead. 

The others tried to run. 

Too late. 

Nayra dashed forward, his body moving like a phantom. 

"Demonic Art: Third Form—Rib Shatter." 

His elbow struck the next target's chest—shattering every rib at once. The man let out a choked gasp before collapsing lifelessly. 

The last two dropped their weapons, falling to their knees. 

"M-mercy! Please!" 

Nayra smiled. 

"Mercy?" He knelt beside them, his fingers lightly brushing their throats. 

A soft touch. 

A gentle press. 

"Demonic Art: Fifth Form—Eclipsing Silence." 

They stiffened. 

Then— 

Their eyes rolled back, blood trickling from their noses. 

They were already dead. 

The battlefield was silent once more. 

Nayra wiped the blood off his hands, staring at the pile of corpses with a satisfied smile. 

"Half-information leads to false assumptions." He muttered, stepping away. 

By tomorrow, the story would be simple: 

"Some Red Hawks and Golden Snake warriors fought and killed each other." 

No one would suspect a four-year-old. 

Even if they suspect him they will not able to prove because he not even have unlocked chakra yet...

No one would ever know the truth. 

He walked away, leaving behind nothing but death and whispers of a phantom killer.