A Background Character's Path to Power-Chapter 107: Twilight Hunt

With a final farewell to Kai and Emory, Amaniel stepped back out into the evening air. The sky was painted in deep oranges and purples, the first hints of twilight creeping in. He boarded the waiting carriage, settling in as the driver flicked the reins, guiding the horses toward the academy.

The forest path was quiet, the usual rustle of wildlife subdued as night approached. Amaniel rested his head against the window, his thoughts drifting—until the carriage lurched to a sudden halt.

His eyes snapped open.

"W-what’s wrong?" he called out.

The driver’s voice trembled. "S-sir! T-there’s a—a monster!"

Amaniel frowned. He reached out with his senses, the echo of life, probing the surroundings, but... nothing. No life, no movement.

Could it be... a spectral monster?

Cautiously, he pushed the door open and stepped out. The forest was eerily still.

"Where?" he asked, scanning the trees.

The driver, quickly hiding behind him, pointed a shaking finger toward the bushes. "T-there! G-glowing eyes!"

Amaniel’s grip tightened around his dagger. "Stay back. I’ll—"

A cloth clamped over his nose and mouth.

"Guh-!"

The effect was instantaneous. His body locked up—muscles rigid, vision swimming. His knees buckled before he could retaliate.

The last thing he saw was the driver’s face, no longer fearful but grinning in triumph as he caught Amaniel’s collapsing form.

"Heh. Easy."

Then—darkness.

_____ ___ _

The driver—no, an assassin also known as Vex—grunted as he hauled Amaniel’s limp body back into the carriage. The boy was a bit heavier than expected, his breathing slow and steady, his limbs utterly unresponsive. A testament to the effectiveness of the poison.

He glanced around, sharp eyes scanning the dim forest. There was no movement - no witnesses.

Good.

With practiced ease, he climbed back onto the driver’s seat and snapped the reins, veering the carriage off its intended path to the academy. And instead of returning to the city, he guided the horses toward a narrow, overgrown trail—one that led to a crumbling warehouse hidden just beyond the forest’s edge.

What a waste of time, he thought bitterly. All this effort for a nobody.

But then again...

His grip on the reins tightened.

The previous assassins—those sent before him—had all failed miserably.

They all vanished without a trace. No bodies, no signs of struggle, nothing, they were just... gone. Maybe so, it had been enough to make the Boss take notice, enough to warrant sending him—a professional, not some disposable low-level thugs.

"Be careful," the Boss had warned. "And finish it cleanly."

So he had been.

He had spent three whole damn weeks studying his target.

The academy’s security was a lot higher than he anticipated. It seems like something happened a month ago. So, the gates were locked tighter than a noble’s vault, guards patrolling every corridor, every courtyard, checking every person.

So infiltration was practically impossible.

He could only watch and work from the outside.

Even so, he learned the target’s habits pretty easily:

When they left -> Every evening, without fail, returning just before curfew.

Where they went -> Always the same route—through the forest path, never deviating.

Their strength -> Unremarkable, at least physically. No enhanced reflexes, no aura. Just... average.

And most damning of all—their weakness.

The target was careless.

They walked with their guard down, never suspecting anything, never sensing the eyes on them. They accepted food and drink without suspicion, moved through crowds without hesitation.

Confidence? Or stupidity?

Either way, it made them easy prey.

But fear of the unknown lingered. So he didn’t act until he was sure.

Vex’s eyes narrowed as he recalled his notes. The target always moved with that same tired indifference, dark circles shadowing those slate-gray eyes, movements sluggish—like a man running on fumes.

Was he careless because he was exhausted? He’d wondered.

But recently, something had changed. The boy’s complexion had improved slightly, and the hollows under his eyes were less pronounced.

And that was the most perfect time, when prey started feeling safe. When their guard dropped completely.

So he struck.

Vex had infiltrated the cleaning staff, blending in seamlessly. A dab of poison in the target’s lunch—a slow-acting paralytic, subtle enough to evade detection. Then, the final step—the poisoned cloth pressed to their face, the two toxins amplifying each other.

A flawless plan.

And now, the target lay limp in the back of the carriage, breathing shallowly, utterly helpless.

____ __ _

The warehouse loomed ahead, its broken windows like hollow eyes in the moonlight. Vex guided the carriage inside, the wheels creaking over cracked stone.

He hauled the target out, slinging his limp form over his shoulder before dumping him unceremoniously onto a chair. Ropes secured his wrists and ankles—tight enough to bite into skin, but not enough to cut circulation.

Vex sat across from his target, studying the boy’s slack features with cold amusement.

Then—crack!

His palm struck the boy’s cheek with a sharp, stinging slap. The boy’s head jerked to the side, his body swaying limply in the ropes.

No reaction.

Vex smirked and delivered another.

Crack!

This time, the boy’s eyelids fluttered. A faint groan escaped his lips as his face twisted in pain.

"Wake up, little rat," Vex sneered, leaning closer. "I know you’re awake now. Or do you want another?"

The boy’s breathing hitched. Slowly, with visible effort, his eyes opened—slate-gray irises dulled by sluggishness, his pupils contracting against the dim warehouse light. He blinked, his gaze unfocused for a moment before sharpening on Vex.

Then—crack!

Another slap rocked his head back.

"Urgh—!" The boy’s groan was raw, his teeth gritting against the sting.

Vex laughed, low and mocking. "Why didn’t you wake up instantly, you damn little rat? Did you think I wouldn’t hit you?" He shook his head, grinning. "Then you must be an idiot."

The boy’s jaw clenched. His breaths came slow and controlled, but his eyes, indifferent and unreadable, burned with something beyond pain.

"W-who... are you?" The boy’s voice was hoarse, laced with caution.

Vex raised his hand again, watching for fear.

But the boy didn’t flinch.

Instead, he stared back, unwavering.

Vex chuckled. "Oh, fearless now, are we?" He lowered his hand, amused. "I like that. But I will be the one asking questions here. Understood?"

Silence.

Then, a slow, deliberate exhale.

"...Understood."

Vex’s grin widened.

Good.

He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. A slow chuckle escaped his lips. "You aren’t completely stupid, knowing when to bend."

His fingers drummed against the hilt of the knife at his belt. "Now, answer my question - what did you do to the other assassins? Did you kill them?" His eyes narrowed. "And if you did, where are their belongings?"

"Where did you hide them?"

The boy’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion as he processed Vex’s question. His lips parted slightly, then pressed together as if struggling to comprehend.

"Speak," Vex demanded, noting the bewilderment in those slate-gray eyes.

"...I... I don’t know what you’re talking about," the boy murmured, his voice still thick from the toxins.

"!Guh!"

A killing intent suddenly enveloped the room like a suffocating blanket. The boy’s body instinctively tensed against the ropes, his face contorting—not in fear, but in resistance to showing pain.

Vex leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart. "Are you taking me for a fool?" he whispered, cold steel underlying each word. "Answer truthfully, or don’t blame me for being ruthless." His hand drifted to the knife at his belt, thumb testing the edge.

The boy exhaled sharply through his nose. "...I really don’t know." Then his eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. "Wait, y-you’re an assassin?"

"...Yes, so, don’t act dumb if you wanna live."

Just a little longer...