The street stretched before Sanemi like the mouth of a beast—dark, cold, and hungry. At the far end, a lone figure stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, dressed head to toe in black, waiting with an unnerving stillness.
Sanemi froze, his chest a tight knot of panic. His thoughts rattled like dice in a cup. Is that my target? Or just some stranger? Should I go to him? Should I run? What if this is all some twisted prank? His legs trembled, but he forced himself to move, one cautious step at a time. The sound of his shoes slapping the wet pavement echoed louder than his own frantic heartbeat.
Maybe if I just walk past him… maybe he'll ignore me. A bitter laugh bubbled in his throat. Yeah, right. Because masked men at night are always friendly neighbors.
He tried to steady his breathing, but halfway down the street, the world shifted. A blur. A shadow. A sudden, violent force came at him from a side alley—a man leaping from the darkness, a knife flashing in his hand as he lunged straight for Sanemi's chest.
"Damn!" Sanemi jerked back, barely dodging the blade. His reflexes, honed from his father's old self-defense drills, saved him from a fatal blow. But this was no ordinary attacker. The man's movements were sharp, inhumanly fast, his blows landing with the weight of something unnatural. The attacker's eyes glowed faintly beneath the mask, a sure sign of the System's power flowing through him.
Sanemi raised his fists, his voice sharp with desperation. "Why are you doing this?! Who the hell are you?!"
The man didn't answer. He simply attacked again, fists and blade whistling through the night air. Each strike was brutal, calculated. Sanemi dodged, blocked, and rolled, his lungs burning with every move. His knuckles ached, but every bone in his body screamed one truth: he was on the defensive, and without a weapon, he was at a devastating disadvantage.
A fist slammed into his face, snapping his head back. Pain exploded across his cheek, warm blood trickling from his lip. Before he could recover, a kick rammed into his abdomen, sending him crashing to the cold pavement.
"Ugh—damn it!" He curled into a ball, clutching his stomach, gasping for air.
The attacker loomed above him, raising the knife to strike. "Your life is useless. Stop struggling. Don't you want to die peacefully?"
The words slithered into Sanemi's mind like venom. His vision blurred, but a primal rage roared in his spirit. "My life… is not useless!" Sanemi shouted, a ferocious power boiling in his chest. He lashed out with his foot, slamming a kick into the man's gut. The attacker stumbled backward, taken by surprise.
Sanemi scrambled to his feet, his legs quivering like brittle sticks, but he stood tall. The man's voice echoed, distorted and cruel, "Useless… you should die today. That's your only worth."
At that moment, Sanemi's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled it out, his eyes darting down to the screen.
[Task Update: 2 hours remaining.]
His heart sank. "Two hours?!"
The attacker saw his moment of distraction and seized it. He lunged, the knife flashing in the dim light. But instinct, born from a need for survival, took over. Sanemi's hand shot up, clamping around the man's throat. With a furious roar, he slammed him into the wall, holding him there, choking him with every ounce of strength he had left.
The masked man clawed at Sanemi's arm, his muffled gasps answering nothing. Sanemi's grip tightened unconsciously, anger and fear fueling him. His fingers dug into flesh.
And then it happened.
Light burst from the attacker's body—from his eyes, his mouth, even the seams of his mask—like a spirit tearing free. His body convulsed once, then went completely limp in Sanemi's grasp.
Sanemi froze. His own hand trembled as he released his grip. The body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud.
"…No." His voice was a whisper, a broken plea. "No, no, no, no."
Kneeling, he ripped off the man's mask. His breath caught in his throat. The face beneath wasn't a monster. It wasn't some hardened criminal. It was a young man, barely older than him, with soft features and a strangely polite expression—the kind of boy you might see in class, not in a back-alley fight to the death.
Tears blurred Sanemi's vision. His chest heaved as a suffocating wave of regret washed over him.
His phone vibrated again, a cold, indifferent buzz.
[$400 Deposited. Task Complete: Kill C-Grade.]
Sanemi's fingers shook as he stared at the glowing text.
"…Four hundred dollars… for a life?" His voice cracked, torn between a laugh and a sob. "What the hell is this world turning me into?"
He dropped his phone onto the pavement, clutching his head with both hands. His voice rose into the empty street, breaking into a cry of pure rage and sorrow.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME?!"
The street remained silent. But then, faintly, like a whisper crawling on the wind, came a voice from where the shadowy figure had stood earlier.
"Until we meet again… Sanemi."
Sanemi's head snapped up. The spot beneath the streetlamp was empty. The figure was gone. A chill clawed down his spine, colder than the wet night air. For the first time, he realized the worst part wasn't just killing a man… it was the terrifying fact that someone, somewhere, was watching him.