The dock smelled of rust, oil, and salt.
Five assassins surrounded him — spread out, forming a loose circle.
Professional spacing. No gaps. No escape.
Kieran's hands were slick around the spear shaft.
Cold reality hit him:
They weren't here to scare him.
They were here to kill him.
Scar — the one he'd wounded — pressed a cloth around his bleeding shoulder.
"You're outnumbered. Low skill. Low experience. No chance."
Kieran didn't answer.
He couldn't afford to.
His brain was calculating, replaying the last few seconds like a video:
His Pierce skill was strong But it had a cooldown And he was fighting trained killers who knew how to avoid thrusts
He checked the System timer mentally.
Pierce Cooldown: ~34 seconds.
Thirty-four seconds was a lifetime in a fight.
Or a death sentence.
The first assassin moved.
Quick. Silent. Efficient.
No wasted motion.
He slashed outward — not a deep cut, just testing distance.
Kieran jerked back, barely dodging.
Scar called out, instructing:
"Probe his reactions. Make him panic."
They were studying him.
Kieran's pupils shrank.
He forced himself to breathe. Slow. Measured.
The memory of the masked woman's training echoed:
"Your body moves. Your mind stays still."
He saw an opening.
Not in their formation.
In their confidence.
He shifted his grip, spear held close instead of extended.
Short grip. Faster defense.
The assassins frowned — they recognized the change.
Good.
Kieran wasn't strong.
He wasn't fast.
But today, he was learning.
Assassin number two dashed in low, dagger aimed at Kieran's thigh.
He stepped backward—
Wrong.
A fist slammed into his ribs from the side he wasn't watching.
Kieran gasped, the spear wobbling.
Pain.
Sharp, breath-stealing pain.
His system flashed:
───────────────
Microfractures detected (2 ribs)
───────────────
He gritted his teeth.
He forced himself to stand straighter.
Scar tilted his head.
"You don't scream? That's rare."
Kieran spat blood.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I want to know what kind of monster you'll become."
The assassins moved again.
Third assassin threw a handful of sand — a dirty street-fighting trick.
Kieran reflexively shielded his eyes.
That was their mistake.
They expected him to dodge backwards.
He charged forward.
His shoulder slammed into the sand-thrower's chest.
He wasn't trying to be elegant.
He was trying to hurt someone first.
The assassin stumbled.
For the first time, they were surprised.
Kieran didn't wait.
He swung the spear sideways like a staff — not a thrust — smashing the butt end into the man's jaw.
CRACK.
Teeth flew.
The assassin dropped.
Scar blinked.
He wasn't expecting improvised violence.
Kieran breathed heavily, chest burning.
His ribs felt like shattered glass.
He knew the assassins weren't going all out yet.
They were testing him.
Studying him.
Hunting his reactions like prey.
He tightened his grip.
"Come on then," he growled.
Two assassins attacked simultaneously.
Left and right.
Diagonal angles.
Professional killers didn't fight one-on-one.
Kieran shifted low, spear horizontal — defense stance.
Left dagger—
blocked.
Right dagger—
blocked.
Their eyes widened.
He wasn't thinking anymore.
He was surviving.
Only Scar remained still, observing.
Pierce — 7 seconds.
He needed to last seven more seconds.
He feinted left, then smashed the spear butt into the shin of the assassin on his right.
The man yelped, balance broken.
Kieran kicked his knee backward, hard.
POP.
The assassin screamed and fell.
2 down.
Pierce — 3 seconds…
Scar's voice sharpened.
"Enough. Kill him."
The last standing assassin lunged with full intent.
No hesitation.
No testing.
Just death.
Pierce — 1 second…
Kieran inhaled.
Everything slowed.
The docks.
The muffled crash of water.
The assassin's dagger inches from his throat.
Ready.
───────────────
Pierce — AVAILABLE
───────────────
Kieran thrust.
Not wide.
Not wild.
Straight.
Precise.
Controlled.
The spear punched into the assassin's chest, driving him backward into a container wall.
Blood splattered onto Kieran's face and lips.
The dagger clattered to the ground.
The man collapsed.
Silence.
Scar stared, breathing shallow.
"You killed him."
Kieran didn't speak.
He couldn't.
Not because of guilt…
…but because of the realization:
He didn't hesitate.
Not even for a second.
Scar slowly smiled.
Not fearful.
Interested.
"You evolve during combat. That's why they issued a kill order."
He flicked blood off his dagger.
"This is getting fun."
He advanced.
Alone.
Kieran raised the spear.
His arms trembled.
His ribs screamed.
His vision blurred.
Scar's tone was almost gentle:
"You're not strong enough yet."
Kieran replied, voice low and steady:
"I don't need to be strong."
He stepped forward.
"I just need to outlive you."
End of Chapter 7