Chapter 45: The Awakened Assassin

The night had passed. Morning light broke through the clouds as Luke and Allison trudged down yet another slope. They had walked through the entire night until they reached the third sewer tunnel.

“Another sealed one,” Allison muttered, slumping to the ground.

Luke stood silently, staring at the thick iron bars.

“You want to keep walking? Maybe another twelve hours?” he asked calmly.

Allison groaned, pushing himself upright with his katana.

“And if we turn back, it’ll take at least a full day to return. Forty-eight hours lost, just like that.”

They fell into silence.

“In all the sewer tunnels we’ve seen so far… not a single mark, not a trace of anyone else,” Allison finally said.

Luke didn’t reply immediately. He just stood there, eyes fixed on the barred tunnel entrance, understanding exactly what Allison meant.

“I really hope someone out there was lucky enough to be teleported inside the wall,” Luke said after a while. “Because outside… there’s nothing. No sign of life. Just us.”

They had no other choice.

They started the long trek back toward the orc encampment. Their only viable path into the city.

“If the wall really surrounds the entire kingdom, it might be circular,” Allison offered, trying to sound optimistic. “There could be thousands of sewer entries. If others were teleported out here too, maybe they found another way in.”

“Or,” Luke countered, “It’s just a straight line. A wall cutting across the land, ending at a natural barrier, like the ocean or a mountain.”

They walked in silence for a while, the crunch of their steps through undergrowth the only sound between them.

The decision had been made.

They would face the orcs.

***

Luke lay flat in the tall grass, hidden deep in the shadows, eyes locked on the orc encampment. Two days of observation.

Allison was posted elsewhere, scouting from another angle. Luke had told him he wanted time alone, to watch. To learn.

The orcs moved with heavy steps and crude discipline. Tall, muscular, bestial humanoids with thick arms, tusks jutting from their lower jaws, and makeshift weapons strapped to their backs. Some wore bone necklaces or crude helmets fashioned from yeti skulls. The smell of blood and ash lingered in the air.

Luke’s eyes moved from one target to another, studying everything. The way they lifted weapons. Which hand they favored. Who trained with bows, and how fast they loosed arrows. He watched the ones that split logs with axes, calculating the force of their swings, the balance of the blades, even the slight curve in the steel that caused the wood to splinter sideways.

Every movement told a story. Every action revealed something he could exploit.

He wasn’t just watching monsters; he was watching patterns. Learning. Absorbing.

The thud of an axe, the shattering of wood. The quick pull of bowstrings. The rhythm of patrol routes. The flickers of their attention, the moments when their eyes drifted.

Instinct. That’s what it was.

These creatures weren’t trained; they were born with these roles. They moved with purpose coded into their bones.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

A lion isn’t taught to kill. A snake doesn’t learn to strike. They just do.

And maybe that calm he felt sometimes, those rare moments when his heart slowed and the world became sharp and clear, maybe that was his own instinct awakening. Not something taught. Something buried deep. Waiting.

Luke’s hand tightened on the grip of his kukri as he absorbed even more knowledge.

***

Luke slipped away into the forest, moving silently while Allison kept watch back at the edge of camp. Under the cover of shadows, he opened his system screen.

There it was, the final decision, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat in the corner of his vision.

He had held off long enough.

“I won’t be ruled by instinct,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the glowing text. “I’ll weaponize it. That includes you.”

[You have acquired the Race Skill: Dark Blood]

Pain erupted through his body like wildfire.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest as if his veins were boiling. It wasn’t just heat; it was movement, as though something alive had been injected into his bloodstream and was now writhing through every inch of him.

Gritting his teeth, Luke refused to scream.

He forced himself upright, trembling as he fought against the surge of energy inside him. Something slithered beneath the surface of his skin, tiny motions like insects crawling under his flesh, coiling along his arms and spine.

When the pain finally dulled, he reached for one of his kukris and slashed the palm of his hand.

Blood dripped out, deep red at first, then black.

A thick, inky fluid oozed from the wound.

Luke narrowed his eyes and gripped the black droplet between his fingers. It pulsed in his hand, almost… curious.

“You obey me. Not the other way around,” he said coldly. “You’re part of my body. My will. Got it?”

The black drop twitched, as if responding.

“Good,” Luke said, releasing it.

The black fluid hovered for a moment, then slithered up his arm and slid smoothly back into the cut, vanishing beneath his skin like it had never left.