"Assassination should always be unexpected, right?"

That’s what he told me once.

My mentor. The one who taught me the skills of a killer.

Knives. Ropes. Explosives. Poisons. Even lethal neurotoxins and far-fetched hypnotic techniques.

"I’m tired of these toys. Time for something new."

His bloodstained hand launched a paper plane from the rooftop’s edge. He watched it wobble through the air—steady at first, then tossed wildly by the wind until it shattered into pitiful fragments.

"Tired of playing? Want a change?" A man beside him rasped, tongue lolling as he sharpened a bayonet on a whetstone.

"A change? What’ve you got in mind, Teacher?"

"Of course. Heard about the new thing lately?"

*Heard what? None of this makes sense.*

"Supernatural Power. Killing with it. Doesn’t that sound fun?"

"Supernatural Power… I’d love some. But~ I don’t have any~"

Frustration gnawed at him. That power was beyond his reach.

Grace. His name. His codename. A killer needed no feelings—only the will to act. And this? This was why he did it. All of it.

He’d entered this world for play. The thrill, the blood—it had been exhilarating. But now? Every game had lost its flavor.

Paper planes were his favorite. Watching them slice through air currents, soaring until… like life’s inevitable end… they fell and vanished.

*What’s the next game?*

"Grace… need us to bring you anything?"

——————————————

"Thanks to that man… for the fun."

Grace twirled his finger. Two paper planes spiraled down, slipping between Eira’s twin blades mid-swing.

Her glowing swords left afterimages in the air. She’d sliced the planes—but the impact felt unnaturally solid.

"Who *are* you?"

Eira lunged forward, a streak of light closing the distance. Her left blade pressed against Grace’s throat; the right aimed to impale his back, pinning him to the ground in a pincer move.

Paper planes burst from Grace’s coat seams. They zipped past Eira’s swords like blades, homing in with eerie intent—their sharpest points aimed at her eyes.

Her goggles shielded her vision, but she couldn’t risk it.

She twisted backward, arching her waist. The planes whistled over her upturned abdomen.

Grace seized the opening—not to flee, but to charge.

His foot hooked under her chin, driving down to snap her spine.

"Heh. Gotcha~~~"

"Sorry. Not quite."

Eira rolled, sprang up, and thrust her crossed swords forward.

The short blades *stretched*—two elongated beams of white light shot toward Grace.

Caught off guard, he took both beams through his chest. The force slammed him backward into the wall.

*Did it work?*

Eira straightened, blades raised defensively. She advanced slowly, muscles coiled.

*My move now—*

"Not bad for ‘Void Blade’! So versatile!!"

"*You!?*"

Grace stood up, unharmed except for two clean holes in his shirt. He dusted himself off and grinned.

Beneath the crimson fabric was not blood, but a sheet of paper he slowly withdrew. It clattered to the ground like metal.

"Is *this* your power?"

*That’s just paper.*

Eira’s eyes widened. The texture…

Grace folded the paper in his hands. A knife shape emerged. Torn scraps became origami cranes.

"Folding… then adding a little~~~"

He bit his thumb, smeared blood across the paper.

Instantly, the folded knife hardened. The cranes fluttered to life, wings beating.

They swarmed toward Eira like crimson snowflakes—a beautiful, lethal blizzard.

*Focus. Threats first.*

She charged, blades carving arcs through the storm. Each crane shattered under her steel. She advanced, parried, never losing sight of her hidden target.

When the metallic cranes blocked her view, she fought to find patterns in the chaos. Because—

"*Hahahaha~~~*"

Grace materialized behind her, paper knife descending. Eira’s split focus left her back exposed.

A slash opened across her spine. Her blades stayed locked against the oncoming crane swarm.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she whirled—fury flashing in her eyes.

Her sword flashed upward. But a fresh wave of cranes swallowed the strike.

"Tch." Eira reset her stance, pushing forward again.

"Your power… lives up to its name."

His voice drifted from the crane storm.

Attacks. Position. All obscured.

"You know my ability?"

"Heh. Who knows? Next round starts now~~~"

The cranes encircled them, wings humming with menace.

Officer Chen had nearly reached the building—ready to act.

But something stopped him.

[Old Chen, stand down. No assistance needed.]

The voice crackled over the police radio. Behind the speaker stood two figures: a man in head-to-toe black with crimson-lensed goggles—High-Rank Hero "Shadow"—and a bandage-wrapped woman in vampire garb—High-Rank Hero "Bloodsucker 89." Both held position.

This wasn’t orders from above. It was a woman’s command.

"No one moves."

A military-uniformed woman stood rigid nearby, gaze fixed on the fight. Her sharp beauty carried an untouchable aura—a dangerous presence no one dared cross. Elusa. The woman who rose to General without a single supernatural gift.

"No one helps her. She’ll handle it alone."