Novels by rindiyoon

The rotting warehouse walls shuddered violently as Urum slammed his back into the chest of one of the gray-robed intruders. The sharp crack of breaking bone pierced the terrifying silence of the night. Without wasting a second, Urum swept the enemy's legs out from under them and plunged a short dagger into the gap of his opponent's wolf mask.Kato gasped for air, his body feeling like a furnace stoked from the inside. The veins in his neck bulged and turned black, while the golden fire behind his eyelids continued to push for release. Don't let go. Hold it in, dammit! Kato thought, cursing himself. He gripped the dusty wooden floor so hard his fingernails cracked. If he exploded now, it wouldn't just be these assassins who vanished; the entire slum district would be reduced to ash.Urum moved with the precision of a predator. He didn't fight blindly; instead, he exploited every single opening in the assassins' formation. He took a deep breath, channeling energy into the soles of his

The pungent, metallic scent of blood was the first thing to greet Kato's consciousness as his brain began to throb. It wasn’t just a normal headache; it felt as though his skull was being struck repeatedly by a sledgehammer. Every time he tried to open his eyes, his lids felt as heavy as lead. The darkness that had swallowed him earlier slowly receded, replaced by the dim light of an oil lamp flickering in the wind blowing through the cracks of a rickety wooden wall.He tried to move, but his body protested. A sharp pain radiated from his left ribs to his shoulder, the remnants of the brutal battle against Askar’s assassin team. Kato winced, his memories returning in chaotic flashes: blades piercing skin, heat exploding from within his chest, and the screams of the assassins before they collapsed into mangled heaps.Am I still alive? he thought bitterly."Don't move too much if you don't want those stitches to rip open again. An injury that deep would have turned an ordinary man into

The world seemed to freeze. The air in the narrow alleyway of the Slum District suddenly grew heavy, compressed by the pressure of the golden aura radiating from Kato’s pores. Askar, the leader of the assassins who had just moments ago looked so arrogant with his poisoned dagger, was now frozen. His face, usually as cold as carved ice, was now distorted by a primitive fear he had never experienced in his life."What... what the hell is this?" Askar muttered. His voice trembled, a stark contrast to his reputation as the ShadowBlade clan's most merciless executioner.Kato didn't answer. His eyes, usually a dark brown, now glowed with a metallic golden fire, as if a small sun were trapped within his irises. Kato’s own consciousness was drifting in the depths of a dark ocean. He felt as though his body was no longer his own; something else, something ancient and bloodthirsty, was taking the helm of his nerves. Foreign memories flashed through his mind: a roar that shook the heavens, the s

The sound of the killers’ bodies slamming into the concrete walls felt like a sickening echo of death. Cement dust swirled, dancing beneath the dim moonlight filtering through the holes in the tin roof. Kato still stood frozen, his breath coming in gasps. The old man, the figure who had just saved him from instant death, had vanished into the darkness without a trace, leaving Kato alone with the fear still stinging the back of his neck.Kato had no time to offer his thanks. His instincts, which for years he had dismissed as a survivalist's illusion, were now screaming at him. Something was wrong. The air around him suddenly felt heavy, smelling of metal and the copper tang of blood.Dammit, he thought as he wiped cold sweat from his forehead. They didn't come alone.From the shadows of the alley the first killers had passed through, two figures dressed entirely in black emerged, cloth masks covering half their faces. They moved soundlessly, like predators stalking wounded prey. This w

Kato didn’t close his eyes. His mind was made up. In the Slums, deep sleep was a luxury equivalent to suicide. With the remaining tough, rancid dried meat, he forced his jaw muscles to work, chewing slowly to squeeze every bit of energy from the meager rations he had. His thoughts drifted to the mysterious figure who had been watching him. Whoever it was, that person possessed a talent for stealth that couldn't be underestimated, far beyond the average market thugs who only knew how to fight in a mob.At the same time, deep within the main headquarters of the ShadowBlade Clan, the atmosphere was far from the peaceful darkness of the Slums. The secret hall, hidden behind the double walls of the elders' archive room, was thick with the heavy, almost suffocating scent of sandalwood incense.Askar stood in the center of the room, arms folded across his chest. His black robes bore the clan emblem embroidered in silver thread, the mark of a commander of the special elimination unit. Before

The night wind blew sharp, piercing Kato’s skin, which was wrapped only in a clan robe that now looked like a tattered rag. After the great ShadowBlade gates closed with the heavy clang of iron that ended everything, Kato was truly on his own. He didn't look back again. His back was straight, even though every step felt like dragging a thousand-pound weight on his shoulders.He walked down the rocky path, slick with leftover dew and moss. The silence of the forest at the foot of the mountain felt oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of crickets that sounded like a mockery of someone who had just lost their entire identity. His bare feet, his sandals of devotion having been confiscated by the clan guards as a final insult, began to bleed, leaving red stains among the sharp gravel.Kato didn't care. The pain in his feet actually helped him stay conscious, distracting him from the tightness in his chest. His mother. The image of her face, locked in the clan's isolation ward, continue