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

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

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