Preparation (1)
“What in the world… what is all this?”
It was just before dawn. The quiet room was now bustling with the sounds of cleaning. The shattered chandelier had been quite ornate, so its glass shards were scattered everywhere. Beyond that, a wardrobe had nearly toppled over, nearly causing a major disaster. The aftereffects of mana depletion still lingered, but I threw myself forward and barely managed to stop it.
I pressed my thumbs firmly against my throbbing temples, which seemed to pulse endlessly. The pain eased a little.
“I made a mistake.”
…Strictly speaking, it was a mistake, so it wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t expected my accuracy to be this freakishly high.
Still, seeing multiple maids summoned in the dead of night because of me left a nagging unease.
“We’re fine. This is our job, after all.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”
It wasn’t just the maids who had rushed over at the commotion.
“What’s going on?”
“Isn’t this Shion’s room?”
A few family members were peeking in from outside, so I personally closed the door on them.
“Looks like it’s mostly done.”
“…No, not yet.”
“Still, it’s late. Maybe you should head back?”
“Then we’ll finish this up and go.”
Even though they’d been dragged out in the middle of the night, these maids were dead serious about cleaning. If it were me, I’d be cursing inwardly, but their professionalism was impressive…
Salria Depon's favorability has slightly increased.
Armin Dias's favorability has slightly increased.
Correction. My assumption was wrong. I made eye contact with Salria Depon, who had been glancing my way. With my Telescopic Vision, it couldn’t have been a mistake.
The maids coughed awkwardly and gripped their brooms, pretending otherwise. On closer inspection, cleaning was an afterthought—they just wanted to linger in my room as long as possible. Cleaning was merely an excuse. They were clearly trying to butter me up. Otherwise, why polish the window frames and mirrors, which had nothing to do with the mess?
I had training tomorrow, and with these maids hovering, I couldn’t relax and sleep. The sleep I’d been craving was slipping away.
“Time to go. We’ll handle the rest during the day.”
“There’s still dust left.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“But still…”
Since they still wouldn’t leave, I personally escorted the two maids out the door. Only after confirming their retreating figures did I close it.
“…Huh.”
Just exchanging a few words had raised the maids’ favorability. It gave me a glimpse into what Shion’s life must have been like before possession.
“…Time to sleep.”
The predawn commotion had dragged on. For tomorrow’s sake, I needed to rest now.
907:20:20
The next day. Early morning, I was dragged to the training grounds. I wasn’t alone. All the Esperand children who had undergone the ritual the night before were gathered there.
“Everyone’s here on time.”
During the headcount and roll call, an unwelcome past overlapped in my mind. It felt like I’d enlisted in the military twice. Nothing was much different from back then. The only change was the fantasy backdrop. I’d hoped fantasy meant some magical conveniences, but no such luck.
“The first lesson is the mindset of an Esperand assassin.”
For now, a simple theory class. We delved into the Esperand assassin manual. Skimming the table of contents, it matched what I’d expected: start with building stamina, then reading maps and compasses, tracking prey, infiltration, and concealment techniques. The later chapters were packed with killing techniques. Grisly illustrations depicted the processes. Muscles tearing, specific bones targeted with precise impacts—unnecessarily detailed.
Fortunately, there was no demand to memorize it all. Training focused on practical ‘instinct’ building, emphasizing talent and embodiment in this world. It was flexible, which was a relief.
“Good morning, Young Master Camille.”
“Yeah.”
Each child had an assigned instructor. A common curriculum, then tailored to individual talents. With varying ages, they accounted for that. Of course, such superficial consideration didn’t change that Esperand prioritized family gain over lives, as villains.
“Pleased to meet you, Young Master Shion. I’m Sato, your assigned instructor.”
I got one too. My instructor was an Easterner—a mercenary from a distant land modeled after Japan. …I hadn’t expected archery training. He started with bow techniques, then javelin throws, throwing skills, and all sorts of tricks, teaching methodically. I worked hard to make his Eastern techniques my own. Thus began hellish physical conditioning on the first day.
“You can do it. I believe in you.”
We ran dozens of laps around a training ground the size of four school fields. The instructors showed no mercy. They wouldn’t give water until we hit the target laps. The Esperand kids looked dissatisfied but didn’t dare defy them, meekly complying.
“Is that all you’ve got?! You’re Esperands! Fail to adapt, and you’ll be culled!”
“Yes!”
“Repeat after me!”
“Yes!”
Brutal training that left our tongues shriveled and parched. …A horrific day dragged into the afternoon.
885:45:30
“As you know, magical beasts inhabit the Esperand forest.”
“Yes!”
“You will now traverse the forest. No support until you retrieve the target item. Do you agree?”
“We agree!”
We had no choice after selecting weapons. Refusing meant discard. We had to endure desperately.
“Prepare. Supplies are here.”
Real life-or-death training against genuine beasts. Esperand kids were thrown into the forest one by one.
“Ah, I can’t see!”
“Crocodile! There’s a crocodile!”
“Watch out!”
Some got lost, others never returned. Corpses would be recovered later, but my Eastern instructor said few actually were. …Finding even parts was lucky. The reason was obvious: most native beasts were ferocious carnivores.
817:18:52
“Today, one-on-one mock battles. Opponents randomly selected.”
A tournament among Esperand kids. Winner got a day off—though who knew if true. No winner emerged.
“Whoever reaches here fights me.”
The final opponent was the instructor. Me, Camille, the others—no one surpassed them. Expected, really.
739:10:40
A week into training. Surviving Esperand kids were less than half the original number. Some confirmed dead, others missing, some dropped out from grueling regimens. Dropouts vanished somewhere… never to return.
571:25:00
Two weeks passed. The grueling training became routine.
“Nilbania Mountain, blanketed in eternal snow. Survive a week: procure winter gear or build shelter. We trust your judgment.”
…All my assumptions were wrong. Prior training was just practice. The real deal started today. Endless snowfields. Esperand kids got only a single dagger each.
403:00:12
“As you see, this is a desert. No grass grows. Find an oasis or procure water and food yourselves.”
“…Yes!”
“Fail to reach the pyramid in time, and you’re out. Remember that.”
“…Yes!”
Three weeks in. Dumped in a desert. Pyramids everywhere, but illusions—natural mirages, not mage-made. Only one real.
“That one?”
“There’s one over there too.”
“Easy.”
Kids relaxed at the grand structures. But only one was real among many.
Sense
Reward for finding the real pyramid first: a new trait.
235:18:52
Volcanic zone with boiling lava.
“Real drakes here. Get spotted, you die. Steal a drake egg using learned stealth.”
…Deeming it dangerous? Instructors armed too. Lead instructor shouldered a greatsword. We entered the lava caves.
Fwoosh! …Drake roars echoed everywhere. The long training’s end was near. Surviving Esperand kids: about ten. And finally…
67:35:47
“You’ve worked hard. Training ends today. You are now Esperand assassins. May fortune favor you who passed.”
…Three days before main story. The long, horrific ordeal concluded. Graduation ceremony began. Survivors ascended the stage together.
“…It’s over. Finally.”
A kid beside me wept, pent-up sorrow bursting. No handkerchief to offer.
“Haa, huu…”
“…”
Camille Esperand, authoritarian throughout, was silent today. His followers had all dropped or died. It softened him somewhat, but full redemption per original plot? Unlikely.
As I pondered, a badge pinned to my chest: octagonal, engraved with Esperand crest.
Sensations anew during the ceremony. Traversed snowfields, deserts, volcanoes, jungles. Desperate survival. Horrific, unwanted curriculum. Esperand’s villainy etched in my body.
Techniques I’d rather forget now ingrained. Endless endurance. Self-reflection. Resolve hardening. Daily self-battles. Looking back, how did I endure?
But the result:
Bang!
Sharp Shooter proficiency has increased by one level.
Current proficiency: Advanced
Target shattered by bullet.
“Excellent, Shion Esperand.”
“Impressive… Worth teaching as an instructor.”
“…”
We Esperand kids had become proper assassins.