Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 907: Bonus Chapter. (Of The old world)

The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light reflecting off the polished obsidian walls of the Velrunian Castle. The castle was a monolith of grandeur, its spires stabbing into the heavens like accusatory fingers. Large banners adorned with the king’s emblem—a golden lion devouring a serpent—draped over the towers. The air was cold, laced with the faint scent of dew and steel.

Agent X stood poised atop a nearby oak, his silhouette merging with the shadows. His lean frame was cloaked in black leather, snug but flexible, designed for both mobility and concealment. His heels, striking crimson stiletto boots, gleamed faintly. To an outsider, they might seem impractical, but to him, they were tools of precision. Each step balanced and calculated, each movement intentional.

He adjusted his gloves, smooth black satin that hugged his hands. His face was calm, porcelain-like in the dim light, with a faint smirk curling his lips. He whispered to himself, his voice soft but laced with venom.

"Tonight, the lion falls."

---

Through the lenses of a compact monocular, Agent X studied the perimeter. The castle’s main gate was a fortress unto itself, guarded by four soldiers in plate armor wielding halberds. Two patrols circled the inner wall at timed intervals. A single watchtower loomed on the eastern side, its sentries armed with crossbows, their eyes scanning the grounds.

"Predictable," he muttered, slipping the monocular back into his belt.

The outer wall was lined with climbing ivy. He’d noticed during his earlier reconnaissance that this patch led directly to the third-floor balcony—a servant’s quarters, judging by the faint hum of a lullaby that had drifted out earlier. The king’s chamber, however, was deeper within, on the fourth floor at the heart of the castle.

---

Entering the Grounds

Agent X slid down the oak tree, landing with feline grace. His heels clicked softly against the ground, but he silenced the sound with a thin layer of fabric coating the soles. He darted through the shadows, weaving through blind spots he’d memorized earlier.

Two guards stood chatting by the servant’s entrance, their torches casting flickering light across their faces.

"I’m telling you, the King’s gotten paranoid. A dozen guards just for the feast tomorrow? Who’s going to attack us in Velrunia?" one scoffed.

"Doesn’t matter. If we slack off and someone does get in, it’s our heads," the other replied.

Agent X crouched low behind a barrel. From his sleeve, he drew a slender stiletto dagger, its blade no longer than a pen. With a flick of his wrist, it flew through the air, embedding itself in the first guard’s neck. The man crumpled silently, his torch dropping with a muffled thud. Before the second guard could react, Agent X was upon him, his movements fluid and precise. The blade sliced across the man’s throat in a clean arc.

"Quiet," he whispered as the guard collapsed, gurgling.

--

The ivy was damp and cold against his gloved hands as he ascended, his heels locking into small footholds. He moved quickly, muscles coiled with precision honed from years of practice. The faint sound of laughter and clinking glasses wafted from a nearby window. Peering in, he saw a small dining hall where off-duty guards were playing cards.

"Perfect," he murmured, retrieving a small satchel from his belt. Inside were several vials of sleeping powder. He carefully dropped one vial into the room through a slit in the window. Within moments, the laughter turned to yawns, then silence as the guards slumped over the table.

---

The servant’s quarters were dimly lit, the faint glow of an oil lamp casting long shadows. The scent of stale bread and lavender soap hung in the air. Agent X moved silently, his heels making no sound against the stone floor. He passed rows of bunk beds, each occupied by snoring figures.

The staircase to the fourth floor was guarded, as expected. Two sentries stood at the base, their spears crossed. Agent X drew a small glass orb from his belt—a smoke bomb laced with a mild hallucinogen. He rolled it toward the guards.

"What the—" one started, before the orb exploded in a cloud of silvery mist. The guards staggered, coughing and rubbing their eyes. Seizing the moment, Agent X dashed forward, his daggers flashing. A quick jab to the ribs incapacitated one guard, while a slice to the leg and neck felled the other.

---

The fourth floor was a maze of opulence. Thick red carpets muffled his footsteps as he navigated the halls, their walls adorned with gilded frames and ornate sconces. He paused by a large stained-glass window depicting the king’s coronation. His reflection stared back at him, a shadow amongst the gaudy brilliance.

Voices echoed down the corridor.

"I’ll check the west wing; you stay here," one guard said.

Agent X ducked into an alcove, pressing himself flat against the wall as the guard passed. The man’s footsteps faded, and Agent X exhaled softly, his fingers brushing the pommel of his dagger for reassurance.

Ahead was the king’s chamber, its heavy double doors adorned with intricate carvings of lions and serpents. Agent X smiled faintly, a predator savoring the hunt.

With one last glance behind him, he pressed his ear to the door, listening for movement within.

It was time.

Agent X eased the door to the king’s chamber open, his movements as silent as a shadow. The room was vast and lavish, dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in crimson velvet. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, mixing with the waxy aroma of a half-burnt candle. The king sat at a grand oak desk near the far window, his broad back to the assassin. His golden crown rested on the table beside a goblet of wine.

X’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he stalked forward, each step measured and deliberate, his crimson heels muted against the plush carpet. He could almost hear the rush of the king’s heartbeat in the stillness of the room.

"Checkmate," he whispered, raising his dagger to strike.

But before he could plunge the blade into his target, the king stiffened. His head snapped up as if sensing danger, his body twisting to leap from his chair.

The sharp crack of a gunshot split the silence. A bullet tore through the window with a violent shatter, its trajectory perfect. It struck the king in the temple, flinging him to the floor in a lifeless heap, blood pooling rapidly beneath him.

Agent X froze, his dagger still raised mid-strike, his mind racing to process what had just happened. His kill—his meticulously planned assassination—had been stolen in an instant. He turned toward the shattered window, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond.

There, on a distant hill, he saw the faint outline of a figure retreating, their sniper rifle glinting in the moonlight before they disappeared into the shadows.

Rage flared hot and bright in X’s chest. His smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, furious scowl.

"Unacceptable," he hissed.

Before he could act, the castle erupted into chaos. Alarms blared, the sound shrill and deafening, echoing through the halls. Heavy footsteps thundered as guards scrambled toward the chamber.

Agent X moved quickly, his mind a storm of fury and calculation. He darted to the door, peeking into the hallway. Two guards sprinted past, their weapons drawn. Once they were out of sight, he slipped into the corridor, his body pressed low to the ground.

He navigated the maze-like halls with the precision of a predator, avoiding patrols and slipping into shadows. But the closer he got to the outer wall, the thicker the guard presence became.

---

Once outside, Agent X sprinted across the open courtyard, his eyes fixed on the distant hill. The alarms blared louder, and guards shouted from the walls above, crossbow bolts zipping through the air.

One bolt grazed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood, but he ignored the pain, his heels pounding against the earth as he reached the base of the hill.

Several guards were stationed there, blocking his path. These were no amateurs—they moved in coordinated formation, their swords gleaming in the moonlight.

"Stand down, or you’ll regret it," one of them barked.

Agent X smirked, twirling his daggers. "Regret? Darling, I invented it."

The fight was brutal and quick. X danced between the guards, his movements elegant and precise despite the uneven terrain. His daggers flashed in the moonlight, slicing through armor and finding soft flesh beneath. One guard lunged at him, but X sidestepped, driving his stiletto heel into the man’s chest before finishing him with a blade to the neck.

Another guard swung at him, but X ducked low, slashing the man’s Achilles tendon and watching as he collapsed with a scream. Blood painted the grass as the last guard fell, his cries cut short by a dagger to the heart.

Breathing hard but unshaken, Agent X wiped his blades clean and looked up the hill.

The sniper had gained significant ground, but X was relentless. He climbed the hill with single-minded determination, his heels digging into the soft earth. The distant figure was now a shadow against the horizon, but X could feel his anger driving him faster, his body fueled by the need for retribution.

Whoever they were, they had made a grave mistake. This wasn’t just about the kill anymore. This was personal.

And then just as he was about to take yet another step, he hot an alert from the assassin headquarters.

Alert: Number one assassin rank now taken.

Kill: King Radnock The fourth.

Assassin: Lenny Tales....

Agent X fell to the ground in realization that his rank he had worked so hard for had been stolen from him.

(Author’s note : A quick flashback of the old world)