A dagger was thrust into the bed. The blade pierced through the bedding and reached the wooden floorboards. Just 0.5 seconds earlier, that was where Kai's head had been. The silent struggle began like this. --- In the early autumn dusk, the fields of Forena Village were dyed in orange light. The smell of soil pricked at the nostrils. The sensation of potato vines tangling around fingers. Each time the hoe entered the earth, round potatoes emerged. Kai silently tossed them into a basket. "We've got a good harvest this year, don't we, Kai?" The elderly man standing beside him crouched down and picked up a potato. Thoma Helgen. Sixty-two years old, the village chief of Forena. Short hair mixed with white, skin darkened by the sun, an old scar across his right eyebrow. A former retired soldier of the Eldorain Kingdom, his physique remained sturdy even now. "Yeah." Kai's response was brief. His voice was low, with little emotional inflection. Black short hair, deep brown eyes. His slender frame wore a white rough linen shirt and black slacks, with leather shoulder guards. An old sword scar running down his left cheek gleamed white in the evening light. To look at him, he was just a farmer like any other. But his eyes were different. Between conversations, his gaze would drift toward the forest. Milgrove Forest—the broad-leafed trees that surrounded Forena Village. Kai's eyes naturally, yet certainly, scanned the depths of those woods. A movement so subtle that ordinary people wouldn't notice. His neck barely moved. Only his eyes worked quietly. Thoma had noticed that gaze. But he said nothing. "It's been five years now. Since you came to this village, Kai." "Yeah." "After the civil war ended, things settled down quite a bit in various places... but..." Thoma looked up at the sky. "The Eldorain Kingdom, Galenorg, Zaklas—who knows what any of them are really thinking. People who fought each other in a three-way struggle for over ten years aren't going to suddenly get along." The Trias Civil War. That floated into Kai's mind. A large-scale internal conflict that began twenty years ago and finally ended fifteen years ago. It started with a succession dispute in the Eldorain royal family, and when the northern commercial cities and southern military factions each backed different heirs, it became a three-way battle. 120,000 people died in five years. The current continent was built upon the scars of that conflict. Kai had begun training at thirteen and entered the battlefield in the final stages of the civil war at fifteen. "Well... I hope peace continues." "Yeah." Thoma placed the potato in the basket and asked nothing more. A quiet time flowed between them. In the distance, the sound of cattle lowing. A village child ran down the path beyond the field. Forena Village—a small settlement with a population of 47 and 22 houses. Located about 8 kilometers north into the forest from the nearest highway, it was rare for outsiders to come here. It was the kind of place Kai had chosen. No one comes. No one knows. Just dig the soil, grow crops, live quietly. That's what he thought. --- Dinner was barley porridge and dried meat. Simple, but sufficient for Kai. A solitary table needed nothing extra. In the flickering light of the lantern, Kai moved his spoon mechanically. When finished, he washed the bowl and trimmed the lantern wick slightly. Then he performed his usual ritual. With a casual motion, he lifted one of the floorboards. Inside, a single dagger lay wrapped in cloth. Kai took it out and checked the blade's condition. No rust. No chips. He rewrapped the cloth and returned it to its place. He closed the board. A motion he'd repeated every night for five years. That's what a combatant is. Only 0.3% of the population had the aptitude. Those who had been subjected to harsh training from childhood, who had been drilled with superhuman physical abilities and combat instincts beyond ordinary limits. Perception of presence, abnormally heightened reflexes, extreme physical enhancement—on a continent without magic, they were said to possess the combat strength of thirty ordinary soldiers alone. During the civil war, they were valued as mercenaries and elite troops. Now many had retired and scattered across the land. Kai was one of them. He had decided to live as a farmer. He had decided to set down his sword. But his body wouldn't let him forget. The hand that checked the floor dagger, the eyes that turned toward the forest depths, the shallow sleep—all of it was habit ingrained in his body. (There's no need to fight anymore.) Kai lay down on the bedding. He stared at the wood grain of the ceiling. (There's no need to fight here.) He repeated it to convince himself. Something deep in his body occasionally stirred. Even in peace, something couldn't stay still. Kai himself couldn't quite explain what that was. He closed his eyes. The village night was quiet. --- In the same dusk, 120 kilometers northwest of Forena Village. The trading city of Halburn was bustling as always. Population approximately 35,000. Located at the southern edge of the Galenorg Federation, this city was a vital trading hub near the border with the Eldorain Kingdom. Developed along a tributary of the Narva River, the east gate's blue sky market had sixty stalls every morning. Stone buildings crowded the streets, and the voices of merchants and the sounds of cargo wagons never ceased. Slightly removed from that bustle, on the eastern district's commercial street, stood a building called the Crossroad Trading Company. Two stories tall. The first floor was a small trading merchant's shop. It dealt in fabrics, spices, and minor crafts. Five employees. Business wasn't bad, but there was nothing particularly distinctive about it—a dull shop. But the second floor was different. Gil peeled a map from the wall and spread it on the table. 175 centimeters tall, with reddish-brown short hair that stuck up somewhat carelessly. Bright green eyes scanned across the map. Thirty years old, his public face was that of a trading company owner. But the reality was different. "Three now..." It was a murmur to himself. He looked at the names written on paper. All of them were former combatants. All had disappeared from the Halburn area in the past six months. Disappearances, or— Gil turned his gaze out the window. The city in dusk. A bustling street. An ordinary sight. But something was moving beneath the surface. Even Gil, who maintained an information network across the entire continent, couldn't grasp the reality of one particular opponent. Veil Hand. That name, derived from an ancient word meaning "the covered hand," appeared only in fragments of information before vanishing. The name existed. But the organization's form was invisible. Its members unknown. Its purpose unknown. Even the intelligence agencies of various nations supposedly couldn't confirm its existence. For Gil, this was a rare situation. It wasn't that there were no leads. Fragments did accumulate. But whenever he tried to connect them, they dissolved into mist. A surge in assassination requests, the disappearance of former combatants, and fragmentary mentions of the name "Veil Hand"—if these were connected... Gil leaned back in his chair. His green eyes looked up at the ceiling. For once, he felt something like anxiety. --- Deep night. Forena Village was completely asleep. No wind. No insect sounds. An autumn night was quiet and heavy. Kai's consciousness rose from the depths of sleep. He didn't know why. He hadn't been dreaming, and there was no sound. His body simply moved first. He rolled sideways off the bed. Immediately after—*thud*—a sound cut through the darkness. A dagger was thrust into the bed. The blade pierced the bedding and reached the floorboards. Just 0.5 seconds earlier, that was where Kai's head had been. In the darkness, Kai remained motionless on the floor. He searched for presence. One person. Near the door. Light body weight. The attacker moved. Kai moved too. Silent combat makes no sound. Two shadows crossed. A blade grazed Kai's left cheek. Shallow. There was pain. But he could ignore it. Kai stepped in. He grabbed the attacker's right wrist. He twisted it inward, hyperextending the joint. A dull sound. The sound of bone crying out. The attacker stifled a gasp. Kai used that moment to sweep their legs and pin them to the floor with his weight. He wrapped both their arms behind their back and held them down with his body. Complete restraint. Less than twenty seconds had passed. It was less a silent struggle than a one-sided suppression. --- When Kai lit the lantern, the attacker's form became visible. Silver-colored short hair. Disheveled. A frame about 165 centimeters tall. Slender build. Kai's brow furrowed. A child. Or rather, a girl. Her features still held youthful softness. Sixteen years old, or perhaps younger. Pale ice-blue eyes looked up at Kai. An expression enduring pain. But something else was visible beneath that. Fear. She was trying to suppress her killing intent. Yet it seeped from the depths of her eyes. Behind the will to move coldly, something trembled. The eyes of someone whose obedience to an organization had seeped into her body. Moving as instructed, yet not knowing who she was—those were the eyes she had. Kai quickly examined the girl's body. Weapons: two daggers. In her pocket: small vials of poison. The equipment of a professional assassin. And her neck. Kai's hand stopped. A brand was carved there. A shape like a palm covering something. The skin was discolored, blended like an old scar. Burned into her body over a long time. Kai saw that brand. His expression froze. He said nothing. The girl said nothing. The lantern flame wavered. Kai bound the girl's arms with rope. Her ankles too. Completely immobilized. He pulled the dagger from the floor and held it. He had known someone would come tonight. He had felt it. Not like that. But they came. For five years, no one had come. (Why now?) Kai looked at the girl. Silver hair, ice-blue eyes, a brand on her neck. There was no answer yet. But he understood that the peaceful night had ended in this very moment. --- In the second floor of the Crossroad Trading Company in Halburn. Even as the night deepened, Gil remained awake. His hand organizing documents stopped not because something moved outside the window, but because a message from a collaborator had arrived. A small slip of paper. Hastily written. The content was brief. 'Forena direction, request executed' Gil placed the paper on the table. His carefree expression vanished. His green eyes narrowed. Forena. A small village in the eastern part of the Eldorain Kingdom, deep within Milgrove Forest. Someone was in hiding there. Gil had known this for five years. He hadn't pried. It was what that person wanted. But the words "request executed" meant something different. The connection between Veil Hand and assassination requests. The disappearance of former combatants. And an assassin sent to Forena—the fragments seemed to connect. But there was still no confirmation. Gil stood and took his coat. He would move in the morning. First, gather information. Whether that person was safe or not—whether Kai was safe or not—he didn't know. But if he wasn't safe, that would be a problem. For Gil, Kai was someone with whom he had an old relationship of trust. Few words. Almost no contact. Yet something had been built up over a long time. The nightscape of Halburn spread beyond the window. Stone buildings, lantern lights, the distant sound of a flowing river. The usual city. But tonight, it looked somehow different. The underworld was moving quietly. Gil returned his coat to the chair and spread the map again. He would do what he could before the night ended. --- The night in Forena Village remained quiet. Kai had t