It was the next day—the day G6 would finally take her first real step. Within the private confines of the Royal Collegium Library's storage room, she began her transformation.
Her movements were not those of a noblewoman preparing for exercise; they were tactical, precise, and efficient. Each motion served a purpose. She tightened the laces of her boots with a practiced tug, tested the give in the fabric of her trousers, and adjusted the fit of her top. She was not dressing for training; she was gearing up for a mission.
The belt she saw yesterday was not merely functional. Worn as a harness over her clothes, it accentuated her petite frame, lending her an air of lethal elegance that was both strikingly attractive and intimidating. She stared at her reflection in the wall-mounted mirror. The person looking back was not Reise. It was G6, locked in and ready for infiltration.
She gathered her hair into a messy but secure knot, ensuring it concealed the chain-rose tattoo behind her ear. The simple, utilitarian clip earrings she chose were a final touch, stripping away the last hints of a delicate noblewoman and replacing them with the sharp aura of a specialized operative.
"Now this doesn't feel strange," she stated to her reflection, a faint glimpse of her true self staring back. It was a good feeling.
Taking a deep breath to shake off the lingering ghosts of her past life, she tapped her card against the hidden panel. The secret door slid open with a soft whisper.
As she stepped out, her trio of attendants—and a captivated Brenda—stared in awestruck silence. Her new appearance was not daring in the way her red gown had been; this was different. This was the quiet, deadly competence of a weapon honed to a perfect edge. She looked like someone who could receive a kill order and execute it without a second thought, and the effect was utterly mesmerizing.
"My… my lady," Brenda stammered, her usual composure lost to sheer admiration. "You look… remarkably well-suited."
G6 offered her a brief, calculated smile, a silent reinforcement of the manipulated bond she had carefully planted. "Indeed. The attire suits you exceedingly well, Lady Reise," Edmund agreed, his tone carrying a note of genuine, impressed respect.
Tina simply adjusted her glasses and gave a slow, approving nod, her sharp eyes missing no detail.
"Lady Reise!" Lilia chirped, her head tilting in adorable confusion. "You look so good! You look… beautifully handsome?"
G6 let out a short, amused scoff. "Then let's go to the training ground," she commanded, already moving past them with a purposeful stride. She paused only for a moment, glancing over her shoulder at Brenda. Her expression softened into that same, potent smirk. "See you around, Bre."
And with that, the Reaper walked away, leaving a wake of flustered hearts and bewildered admiration behind her.
As they entered the Bastion, the usual murmur of activity faltered and then died. Every knight, clerk, and passing nobleman stopped to stare at the woman who had just walked in. She moved with a predator's grace, her attire sharp and utilitarian, making her look less like a visiting lady and more like an emissary from some formidable, unknown faction.
"Is that Lady Reise?"
"I heard a rumor she would be working amongst us…"
"By the skies, she is nothing like the descriptions I've heard."
"I saw her at a ball years ago. This is… a completely different person."
The whispered commentary grated on G6's nerves. "Where is the training ground, Edmund?" she asked, her voice cutting through the noise as they continued their walk.
"I inquired yesterday, my lady. It is this way—ah, there. The stairwell in the corner leads down to the open training arena," Edmund replied, gesturing toward a stone archway.
G6 didn't bother with a response, simply altering her course and descending the stairs without a backward glance.
She was two hours ahead of the typical schedule for the high-ranking nobles. For G6, this wasn't a social call or a leisurely pastime; she had an objective, and she intended to acquire the necessary skills as efficiently as possible.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and emerged into a vast, sand-covered arena. The air smelled of earth and sweat.
G6 turned to her little entourage. "Lilia, Tina. Return to the office and rest. Edmund will suffice here," she stated, her tone leaving no room for debate.
Tina's face showed immediate hesitation. "But, my lady—"
"Don't make me repeat myself," G6 interjected, her voice flat and final.
Lilia, sensing the absolute command in her lady's tone, gently touched Tina's arm. "If that is your wish, Lady Reise, we shall prepare refreshments for your return," she said, her diplomacy a sharp contrast to G6's bluntness.
Tina looked from Lilia to Edmund, her concern evident. "Do not worry, Tina. I shall ensure our lady wants for nothing," Edmund assured her with a confident nod.
"Very well. We shall see you later," Tina relented, offering a curt bow before leading Lilia away.
G6 watched them until they disappeared up the stairs. Then, without a moment's delay, she began a series of stretches, her movements fluid and practiced.
"Edmund," she said, her voice casual yet piercing.
"Yes, my lady?"
"What's the real reason you vanished from the villa for days?" The question came out of nowhere, a perfectly aimed strike that shattered Edmund's composure.
As if you could fool a professional, G6 thought. I've lived a life of lies; I can smell them on others.
"I… whatever do you mean, my lady?" Edmund stammered, attempting to recover.
G6 didn't even look at him, continuing her stretches. "You remember telling me that most in the Adventurers' Guild specialize in Physical Enhancement magic?" she asked.
"Yes…" he answered, his tone wary.
"You've been going outside the palace, haven't you?" she stated. "Your hands that day had the faint calluses and dirt traces of someone who'd recently been in a fight, not arranging flowers in a villa. You used my seclusion as a cover to slip away and enjoy your… filtered life." She cracked her neck, a sharp, unladylike sound that emphasized her point.
Edmund stood utterly stunned, his mind racing. How could she possibly know? She wasn't using any skills then… she couldn't have been…
"I'll keep your secret," G6 said nonchalantly, finally finishing her warm-up.
A man of the world, Edmund knew a favor was never free. "What is the condition, Lady Reise?" he asked directly.
A slow, knowing smile touched her lips. "You'll know when the time is right."
Was this the reason why she sent Tina and Lilia away? Edmund thought.
With that, she took off, beginning a long, slow, distance run around the perimeter of the arena. Her pace was steady, her breathing controlled—the methodical stamina-building of a soldier, not the pampered heir of a ducal house.
Edmund remained rooted to the spot, his thoughts a whirlwind. What, and who, exactly are you, Lady Reise? He watched her lap the arena, each stride purposeful and powerful, a complete anomaly in his perfectly ordered world.
_____
Keith was whistling as he strode through the halls of the Bastion. "Alright, perfect. A full hour early," he murmured to himself, a pleased grin on his face.
As others passed and offered polite greetings, he returned them with a genuine smile and a nod. Keith De Lune was not the typical spoiled son of a High Noble house. He was easygoing, thrived on drama and entertainment, and possessed a playful, almost mischievous spirit.
He was Dio's childhood friend—and also his cousin. The Queen was his father's elder sister, a fact that neatly explained his comfortable irreverence and his habit of teasing the future Duke without fear of repercussion.
"I wonder if she's here already," he mused, immediately changing course toward G6's office. Without a second thought, he pushed the door open.
The scene that greeted him made him pause. Tina and Lilia were lounging on the couches, looking for all the world like friends crashing at a shared apartment rather than servants in a noble's office. For a moment, all three just stared at each other in mutual surprise.
"Hmm… is Reise here?" Keith asked, his tone light and utterly unconcerned with their informal posture.
Tina snapped back to reality, quickly getting to her feet. Lilia followed suit. "G-good morning, Sir Keith," Tina said, offering a flustered bow. "Lady Reise is already at the training ground."
"Ah, I see. Later, then," Keith said casually, closing the door behind him. A wide smile spread across his face as he headed for the training grounds.
__
As he descended the stairs, he spotted Edmund standing in the shadows of the arched pathway. "Edmund!" he called out, making the butler turn. "Good morning, Sir Keith," Edmund greeted with a slight bow.
"Where is she? Is she just sitting around waiting for me?" Keith asked, his voice full of playful anticipation.
Edmund slowly gestured with his head toward the training arena floor. Keith followed his gaze, and his eyes widened.
There was G6, finishing a set of push-ups, her body glistening with sweat. But her form was all wrong—or rather, it was far too right. It wasn't the shaky, unpracticed motion of a beginner. Each movement was precise, controlled, and spoke of a deep, ingrained experience that was utterly foreign to the Reise he knew.
"Is that… her?" Keith asked, his voice hushed with awe.
G6 finished her set and sat back on her heels, showing no sign of discomfort or distaste for the gritty floor. Edmund moved toward her, a neatly folded towel and a bottle of water in his hands. Keith followed close behind.
"Lady Reise," Edmund said, offering the towel.
"Thanks," she said, her voice slightly breathless. She glanced up at Keith. "Oh, you're here." Her greeting was as casual as if she'd seen him five minutes ago.
"You look hot…. I mean, hot, in those clothes," he said, quickly correcting himself with a grin.
G6 wiped her face with the towel. "I know I'm hot," she answered flatly, leaving it deliciously ambiguous whether she meant her temperature or her appearance.
Keith's grin widened. He sat down on the ground near her, curling his knees up. "So? Are we starting?" he asked, leaning in closer. "By the way, you look really good in that… unconventional attire," he added.
G6 wiped her face with the towel. "I know I'm hot," she answered flatly, leaving it deliciously ambiguous whether she meant her temperature or her appearance.
Keith's grin widened. He deliberately sat down on the ground near her, curling his knees up. He'd been told she valued personal space, but he'd always learned more by breaking the rules and gauging the reaction. "So? Are we starting?"
G6 turned her head, and suddenly their faces were mere inches apart. Edmund, standing between them, felt his heart hammer against his ribs. This proximity was completely improper for a noblewoman, let alone one who was betrothed.
"I am…" G6 answered, her voice a low whisper. Then, in a flash of movement, she leaned forward and bumped her forehead against his—not hard, but enough to make him yelp in surprise and tumble backward onto the sand. "Not too close, perv," she stated, standing up and handing the towel back to Edmund in exchange for the water bottle.
She took a long drink, then pointed the bottle at the two men. "You two. Show me. Spar with each other."
"Pardon, Lady Reise?" Edmund repeated, certain he had misheard.
"It's not a problem, right?" It was a question aimed at both of them, but it demanded only one answer: No, it is not a problem.
Edmund hesitated for only a second before stepping back. He removed his watch, loosened his tie, and rolled his shoulders. Keith got to his feet, brushing sand from his clothes, a new spark of interest in his eyes. He shrugged off his coat and removed the decorative apparatus from his vest. "Edmund, the practice swords are in that storage closet," Keith said, gesturing to a small door.
G6 settled onto a bench, cooling down. Fuck. In my old body, this would've been a warm-up. This vessel is pathetic. Maybe I should just activate 'Perfect Assassin Form' and be done with it.
"Hey," Keith called out, walking slowly toward her. He stopped a respectful distance away this time, a thoughtful, almost assessing look on his face. "Those moves... that's not standard noble etiquette training. Where did you learn to train like that?"
The question hung in the air, a direct hit that most would deflect with a flustered lie. But G6 just looked at him, her grey eyes calculating. He's more observant than he acts. Good. Stupidly smart.
She took another sip of water, buying a half-second. Play it off. Not a lie, but not the truth. Something they can swallow.
"Where does anyone learn discipline?" she finally said, her voice cool and even. "From being bored out of their mind for eighteen years in a gilded cage. You find ways to pass the time." She gestured vaguely with the water bottle toward the now-empty arena. "This just happens to be more productive than arranging flowers or sighing over portraits."
It was a perfect answer. It acknowledged a past of frustration they all knew about, hinted at a secret life of rebellion they didn't, and revealed nothing real. It was the kind of truth she excelled at.
Keith's assessing look softened into a smile, though the curiosity in his eyes didn't fade. "Well, it's a hell of a way to pass the time. I'm impressed."
"Don't be," G6 said, standing up as Edmund returned with two practice rapiers. "Save it for when you show me something that actually impresses me." She nodded toward the center of the arena. "Now, get to it. I don't have all day."
Edmund accepted the practice rapier from Keith, its weight familiar in his grip. He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as he moved to the center of the sandy arena. Keith mirrored him, falling into a relaxed but ready stance, a playful glint still in his eyes.
"Don't hold back on my account, Edmund," Keith called out. "The lady wants a show."
"I would not dream of it, Sir Keith," Edmund replied, his voice taking on a formal, focused tone. The air around him began to shimmer faintly, a visible sign of mana coursing through his body. Kinetic Augmentation: Full-Body Enhancement. His posture straightened, his muscles coiling with suppressed power. He was no longer just a butler; he was a combatant.
Keith's smirk didn't fade, but his eyes sharpened. He didn't rely on full-body enhancement; instead, a concentrated glow enveloped his arms and the practice blade he held. Physical Enhancement: Focused Striking. It was a swordsman's approach, favoring precision and speed over raw power.
They moved at the same instant.
Edmund was a blur, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His enhanced strength wasn't for a powerful swing, but for explosive footwork. He didn't slash; he thrust, the practice sword becoming a piston driven by immense force. "Piston Drive!" he grunted, the attack simple, direct, and incredibly fast.
Keith didn't try to block it head-on. His own enhanced speed allowed him to pivot, deflecting the thrust with a sharp crack of wood on wood. The force of the parry would have numbed the arm of a normal man, but Keith's magic absorbed the shock. He used the momentum, his blade whipping around in a tight, elegant arc aimed at Edmund's exposed side. "Rippling Counter!
*Crack. Thwack. Crack.*
The sounds echoed through the arena. Edmund was a power and relentless advance, each step kicking up sand, each thrust a potential fight-ender. Keith was fluid and evasion, his movements economical, his parries precise, turning defense into instant offense.
G6 watched, utterly still. But internally, her mind was a whirlwind.
<
Subject: Edmund. Fighting Style: Overwhelming Force. Relies on Kinetic Augmentation for speed and power. Leaves recovery windows after full-power strikes.
Primary weakness: predictability.
Subject: Keith. Fighting Style: Duelist's Finesse. Uses Enhancement for precision and reaction speed. Wastes movement on stylistic flourishes.
Primary weakness: cannot withstand a direct, overpowering strike.
<
It wasn't enough to just watch. She needed to feel it.
<
There was no grand light show. No roar of energy. It was a silent, internal shift. One moment she was G6 in Reise's weak body. The next, every muscle fiber, every nerve ending, every synapse was perfectly aligned and under her absolute control. The lingering ache from her run vanished. The world didn't just slow down; it became a series of calculable data points. She could see the micro-tremors in Keith's wrist before he decided on a feint, the slight shift in Edmund's weight that telegraphed his next lunge. This was her true self.
The match ended a moment later. Keith had managed to slip past Edmund's guard, his practice rapier tapping lightly against the butler's ribs. "A fine match, Edmund!" Keith said, breathing heavily but grinning.
"Indeed, Sir Keith. Your skill is as sharp as ever," Edmund replied, conceding with a slight bow.
They both turned, expecting to see G6 on the bench. Instead, she was already standing, having picked up a practice rapier of her own. She held it not with the elegant grace of a noblewoman, but with the cold, efficient grip of someone who knew how to make a tool lethal.
"My turn," she said, her voice flat and devoid of its earlier casualness. It was a command.
Keith and Edmund exchanged a worried glance. "Reise, these are practice blades, but they can still bruise—" Keith started.
"I am aware of their function," she interrupted, not moving. "Edmund. You first."
"My lady, I really must protest—" Edmund began, horror on his face at the thought of striking his mistress.
"Your protest is noted," G6 stated. "Now, attack me. Use your Piston Drive."
The fact that she knew the name of his technique froze him in place for a second. Swallowing his hesitation, he nodded. He would make it slow, controlled, just enough to show her the form—
<
The moment he lunged, G6 moved. She didn't retreat. She flowed inside the thrust, her body a shadow passing through the space his attack occupied. Her own blade didn't parry; it simply tapped his wrist with pinpoint accuracy, right on the nerve cluster that controlled his grip.
*Thud.*
Edmund's practice sword dropped into the sand. He stared at his numb hand, then at her, utterly dumbfounded. She had disarmed him in the blink of an eye without seemingly any effort at all.
"Keith," she said, turning her head. Her grey eyes were like chips of ice. "Your Rippling Counter. Now."
Keith, now completely serious, didn't hesitate. He knew a predator when he saw one. He lunged, his blade moving in that same fluid, deceptive arc.
<
To G6, his attack might as well have been moving through syrup. She saw every minute adjustment, every shift of his weight. She didn't block or counter. She simply leaned back, letting the tip of his blade pass millimeters from her nose. As the force of his swing carried him forward, off-balance, she took a single, precise step forward and pressed the tip of her practice sword against his throat.
He froze, his eyes wide. The entire exchange had lasted less than two seconds.
G6 lowered the blade and took a step back. The intense focus in her eyes faded, replaced by a look of pure, analytical satisfaction.
<
A wave of fatigue washed over her, but she locked her knees, refusing to show it.
"I see," she said, as if to herself. She looked at the practice sword in her hand, then dropped it onto the sand beside Edmund's. "The principles are transferable."
She looked at the two stunned men. "Thank you for the demonstration. That will be all for today."
G6's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat that had nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with the alarming void spreading through her limbs. The power of the Perfect Assassin Form was gone, and in its wake, it left not a drained mana pool, but a body screaming in protest. Every muscle fiber felt shredded, every bone turned to lead.
Shit. It doesn't drain mana, it burns through the host's physical fuel. This vessel is a piece of junk. It can't handle the software.
She couldn't let them see. Weakness was a vulnerability she could not afford. Without a word, and without looking back at the two stunned men, she turned and strode for the exit, her pace deceptively steady.
But with every step, the world tilted slightly. The grand arches of the Bastion seemed to sway. Her vision tunneled, the edges blurring into a fuzzy grey static. She focused on the doorway, making it her extraction point.
Just get to the stairs. Get to the office.
She pushed through the main hall, ignoring the lingering stares, her expression a mask of cold indifference that hid the system failure occurring within. She reached the bottom of the stone staircase leading up to the offices. It looked like a mountain.
Gripping the cold stone railing, she forced one foot in front of the other. Halfway up, a wave of dizziness washed over her so violently her knees buckled. Her grip on the railing slipped.
This is so uncomfortable. Her thoughts, as she never experienced this much of fatigue except in her years of training when she was a kid.
Before she could crash onto the steps, a pair of strong hands caught her, stopping her fall effortlessly. The scent of sandalwood and old books filled her senses. Through the blurring haze, she registered the fine black fabric of a sleeve.
Her head spun, too heavy to lift and identify her rescuer. The last of her strength evaporated. The carefully constructed mask shattered. Her body went utterly limp, consciousness fleeing as if a switch had been flipped, leaving her a dead weight in the stranger's arms.
— To be continued… —