The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

"Jenna!"

They turned to the side to see the village head hurrying toward them, relief written all over his face.

"Jenna! Thank the Iron Father—I thought I lost you!"

He pulled her into a crushing embrace the moment he reached her.

"...father..."

A flicker of emotion passed through Jenna’s eyes, but she relaxed into the hug and returned it.

"Jenna..."

A moment later, Guren approached as well. His fists were clenched tightly as he lowered his head, as though weighed down by disappointment.

"I’m really sorry, father... Jenna. I couldn’t stop it. I should have... I should have..."

Zephyrion held back a frown.

’He’s faking.’

His clenched fists and twisted expression painted the image of regret, but his eyes told a completely different story. No matter how skilled one was at pretending, the eyes were the hardest to change.

"Guren..." The village head pulled away from Jenna at once and stepped toward him, placing both hands on his shoulders as he spoke gently.

"It’s not your fault. You did what you could. What matters is that you learn from it and do better. Do you understand?"

Guren silently gritted his teeth, then nodded.

"...yes, father. I’ll do better. I promise."

"You’re a Tome. Don’t let this weigh you down. We don’t break—we move forward. Now, look at me."

Guren swallowed, then slowly lifted his head, meeting his father’s gaze with renewed resolve.

"...yes, father."

The village head smiled warmly and gave a small nod.

"Tch."

A flicker of irritation passed through Jenna’s eyes at the sight. She turned sharply and stormed off.

"Jenna!"

The village head called after her, but she didn’t respond, continuing to walk away.

"She’ll be fine, father. You know how she is." Guren said, giving his father a light pat on the back.

"...yes."

The village head let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. She was just like her mother.

Then, as though on cue, both father and son turned toward Zephyrion.

A faint cold light passed through Guren’s gaze before disappearing. The village head’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to make sense of what stood before him.

"You must be one of the warriors from Calderalth the villagers mentioned. I’m Guren Tome. Nice to meet you."

Guren smiled and extended his hand for a handshake.

As he stepped closer, a faint scent brushed against Zephyrion’s nostrils, and he held back a frown. It felt... familiar. However, the stench from the slain beasts nearby made it harder to place.

’Later.’

Zephyrion gave the offered hand a brief glance before taking it.

"...likewise."

Suddenly, Guren’s eyes narrowed slightly, and the next instant, Zephyrion felt a subtle weight settle over him as the grip tightened around his.

’Hm?’

The pressure of Guren’s grip was far tighter than necessary. If Zephyrion’s arm had been weaker, it would have been crushed.

’He’s trying to intimidate me.’

However, even under the intense grip, Zephyrion showed no reaction. He applied a bit of pressure in return, then...

Crack!

Guren’s eyes twitched slightly as Zephyrion’s grip crushed his, clearly fighting off the pain.

’What...’ 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

He stared at Zephyrion in shock. He had tried to assert dominance and show him his place by crushing his grip, yet his own had been crushed instead. Why did it feel like he was gripping metal?

Guren forced a strained smile and quickly retracted his arm, hiding it behind his body as he spoke.

"...what you just did... thank you. If you hadn’t stepped in, we would’ve lost people. You’re not hurt, are you?"

"I’m fine. It was nothing."

A Drogoth... nothing?

Guren’s smile twitched as he let out a short laugh.

"Heh... impressive. In that case, we’ll talk later. As you can see, we’ve got a lot to handle."

Gesturing toward the injured warriors and villagers, he gave a nod and turned to leave.

"..."

"..."

A moment of silence settled as the village head stared at Zephyrion with an unreadable expression, his fist slowly clenching. Even so, Zephyrion could see the emotions shifting within his gaze.

Shock. Disbelief.

It was expected. The same man had disregarded them upon their arrival, yet he had just witnessed him easily dispatch a Drogoth. Now, there was no trace of that disregard, only curiosity.

Regardless, it went unsaid on the battlefield: true warriors and veterans never asked another about their strength, as it was considered rude.

Zephyrion was certain the village head wouldn’t ask about his current mark. Even if he revealed he was mark five, clashing head-on with a Drogoth was still far beyond that level.

Still, since he couldn’t ask about his rank, he had no way of knowing just how powerful Zephyrion truly was. In such a case, Zephyrion was an anomaly, one he couldn’t understand.

However, he was a strong anomaly.

And in this world, the strong were respected, no matter where they came from.

Finally, the village head exhaled, then lowered his head in a deep bow.

"...as the village head of Pulsegrove, and as a father... I offer you my deepest thanks. Thank you for stepping in."

"It’s nothing. I only did what I was supposed to. I’m just glad no one died."

As Zephyrion glanced around the clearing with a faint hint of concern, a flicker of surprise passed through the village head’s eyes.

’This youth...’

They had seen their share of warriors from Calderalth over the years. As members of a high house, almost all of them carried an air of superiority, making it clear they stood above those who lived in a secluded village.

Yet, though this youth had just done something truly incredible, he could sense none of that usual arrogance from him.

If anything, the boy had even shown concern for the villagers’ safety.

It was clear he had greatly misjudged him.

"...still, you’ve done us a great service." the village head said, a smile forming on his face. "We’ll be holding a banquet tonight to welcome my son and his team back. I’d like it if you and your companions joined us."