Chương 8: Into the Assassin’s Mind

[Your [Assassin] class has reached Level 5!] (+2 Agility, +1 Strength, +1 Vitality, +1 Perception, +1 Free Point.) [You have unlocked a new Class Skill] Luke frowned. For the first time, the system gave him a choice. Not random, not automatic, but deliberate. A chill crawled up his spine. There were too many coincidences. He had reached level five on the very last monster of that floor, as if the entire place had been built to give him exactly the right amount of experience. No more. No less.

Like someone wanted him ready. Luke decided not to think too hard about it. He took a slow breath, and the screen changed. Five skills appeared in a clean vertical list. He read the first one. [Silent Step (Common)]: Drastically reduces footstep noise for one minute, allowing the user to approach without being detected. Luke raised an eyebrow. It was good, perfect for the job ahead. Not offensive, but he didn't need damage right now. His only job was to get in... and get out without being seen.

Still, it was easy to see how the skill captured the core of an assassin: close the distance in silence, strike from the dark, and vanish before anyone knew what hit them. [Sharp Eye (Common)]: Sharpens the Assassin's perception, allowing the user to identify vulnerable points on an enemy's body. With a brief moment of focus, reveals minor weaknesses such as a poorly positioned guard or muscle tension. Very good. Useful in combat, no doubt.

Knowing an enemy's weak points could mean the difference between surviving and dying in a real fight, but Luke doubted he would have any chance of hurting the boss. If that thing woke up, there would be no fight. Just death. He set the second option aside. The first was still in the lead. [Perfect Throw (Common)]: The Assassin channels focus before throwing a blade, adjusting angle and force to maximize penetration. The blade flies with surgical precision, dealing bonus damage when it strikes vital areas.

Offensive. Obviously. The third skill had one purpose: impact. Luke weighed the first three and sorted them almost by instinct. Stealth, analysis, power. He even considered whether each one scaled with a different attribute: agility for the first, perception for the second, strength for the third. But he killed that thought right there. This wasn't the time to get lost in guesses. He moved on to the fourth.

[Basic Chameleon Skin (Uncommon)]: Grants light camouflage while the user moves slowly or remains still in shadow. Enemies will have difficulty detecting the user. Luke's eyes widened. A camouflage skill? For a second, he almost picked it on the spot. But when he read the description again, something clicked into place. It wasn't invisibility. Just light, temporary camouflage. He had no idea how it would work once activated, whether it would hide his clothes or only his skin.

Useful, especially for stealing the key. But the boss was asleep. If the creature's eyes were closed, camouflage might not matter at all. Once he looked at it coldly, Luke realized stealth alone wasn't enough. He needed a contingency. Not for success, but for when success went wrong. If the demon woke up, camouflage wouldn't save him. That made him reconsider everything, even [Silent Step].

The skill seemed like the safest choice, but with his assassin instincts sharper and his body trained like a predator's, Luke could already move in near silence. Barefoot. Controlled. Precise. He didn't need a skill to walk like a ghost anymore. So he discarded the first skill. A moment later, he discarded the camouflage too. Neither one would save him if the creature opened its eyes. Everything came down to the last option. Luke let his gaze settle on it and read.

[Assassin's Dash (Uncommon)]: The Assassin bursts forward at blinding speed, crossing a short distance in an instant. Can be used to close in on a target with a swift, lethal strike or to escape imminent danger. Luke's mind sharpened like a blade. That wasn't just instinct. It was calculation. If the boss wakes up, this is my way out. He pictured it. Smoke bomb. Key in hand. Dash. Gone. He could also use the skill to reach the chest if the demon moved too soon.

He'd get one opening, a ridiculous sliver of time, almost nothing. But maybe enough. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The other skills no longer mattered. This one didn't promise victory. It promised a second chance, and right now, that was worth more. His instincts agreed. His logic did too. Luke chose. [You have acquired the Class Skill: Assassin's Dash] Hours later, the forest learned what his choice had changed.

A sound cut through the silence as a knife whipped through the air and buried itself in a tree. Beneath it, other blades already lined the trunk in a nearly straight row, an improvised target marked with quiet precision. Luke didn't stop. He sprinted in a zigzag through the clearing, threw another blade, jumped, rolled, twisted left, then right. With every transition, a knife left his fingers. Every tree was a marker. Every step changed the angle.

His body demanded balance, strength, and focus, while his arms calculated angle, rotation, and force. He wasn't training to look lethal. He was training until lethality became natural. Throwing knives while standing still was easy. In a real fight, the ground was uneven, enemies moved, blood got slick, and fear gnawed at your guts. Luke was preparing for the moment everything stopped going according to plan.

Even if the training wasn't essential to the mission, he wanted to enter the lair at the absolute peak of what his current body could offer. He still remembered what he had felt when he brought down the last kobolds: that brief instant of alignment, that sharp calm, that glimpse of something deeper and more instinctive. Now he was trying to return to that state, trying to force that same clarity into every movement. Then the change came. The chaos became control. Luke began walking barefoot, in absolute silence.

Each step touched the earth so carefully it barely raised dust, as if the ground beneath him were a tightrope. One foot in front of the other. Spine straight. Weight perfectly distributed. Every step was intentional. Every movement, predatory. His mind wasn't only on his feet. It flowed through his whole body, down his spine, through his shoulders, all the way to his fingers. He was repeating something he hadn't learned from books. Instinct. Predators. Cats. Silent by nature.

Assassins long before blades, classes, or systems ever existed. They moved in sequence: the rear paw landed exactly where the front paw had been. Less noise. More control. Lower risk. Luke was replicating that, adapting it to a human body and to a killer's mind. And deep down, he understood. That was the true purpose of the class. Not just passive bonuses. Not just flashy skills. A class was a lens. It changed how you saw the world. And Luke was learning to see.

Luke used the assassin's mindset to return to that state, to drag out whatever knowledge was buried inside the class itself. He didn't want to feel it only once. He wanted to control it, call it up, awaken more of it. Whatever truths were buried inside that class, Luke wasn't going to wait for the system to hand them over. He was going to rip them out. After hours of walking on the balls of his feet in short, silent, disciplined steps, he moved on to something harder: falling without making a sound.

He threw himself sideways, rolled through the damp grass, and adjusted his posture midair to reduce impact, noise, and exposure. Total control. That was the exercise. A bad fall could give away his position. One slip could kill him. The secret was not just landing softly, but using every muscle at once, spreading his weight, shaping his body to the surface like water flowing down a slope. Luke remembered something he had read years ago on some random trivia site, of all places:"Cats always land on their feet.

It's called the righting reflex." They twisted in the air, extended their limbs, absorbed the impact, and never dropped their guard. Predator instinct. Nothing more. Luke didn't want to copy it intellectually. He wanted to teach his body. He wanted to fall like a cat and come up ready to kill. More hours passed. Hunger came. Thirst followed. Luke ignored both. His focus had gone somewhere else. Luke plunged into the freezing water beneath the waterfall and let the cold bite into him. His body wanted to live.

Only control would let it survive. He surfaced, took a deep breath, and sank again. Held the air in his lungs. Let the world dissolve. He trained his breathing. Trained his heart. Trained the part of him that stayed still. Luke was no longer chasing a skill. He was chasing something deeper. He wanted a true assassin's stillness, something that could walk up to a sleeping monster and leave it sleeping. He didn't want the creature to ignore him. He wanted its instincts to ignore him.

At the bottom of the lake, eyes closed, Luke understood. The trick wasn't silence. Not really. Not breath control. Not movement control. It was the absence of intent. Not hiding. Not sneaking. Becoming part of the environment. He needed to become like the water around him. Calm. Cold. Untouchable. He needed to disappear in plain sight. There, but beneath notice. That was how a true assassin moved. Luke balanced on one foot, the other hovering just above the ground, not moving a muscle.

It wasn't just physical training. It was study. He wanted to feel the weight of his own body, understand where imbalance began, and track every tiny adjustment his muscles made to keep him upright. When he finished, he lowered his foot with silent precision and returned to the blade drills. Two knives in hand. Arms in constant motion. Quick cuts. Measured. Clean. Flowing through the air. To an ordinary observer, it might have looked useless.

After all, attributes were supposed to determine speed, strength, and precision. But Luke knew better. The assassin's mindset whispered a different truth: he could be faster, more flexible, more precise, if he learned how to draw out everything his numbers allowed. The body was the weapon. The mind was the trigger. And now he was trying something new: awakening that understanding whenever he chose. Entering the assassin's mindset whenever he wanted.

Flipping the switch as a trained reflex, not as a reaction to danger. A choice. The movements continued. Faster. Sharper. Smoother. Every strike wasted less motion. Every turn carried more intent. Every gesture became quieter. Until, at last, Luke stopped. His eyes opened slowly, and a faint smile touched his lips. He had felt it. Perfect calm. The absence of doubt. The complete union of body and will, as if he and his purpose had become the same thing. And in that instant, Luke understood.

"There's nothing left for me here." Now… He just had to rob a sleeping demon.