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Morin hadn't chosen a person as the test target because he didn't know exactly what effect the skill would have.
The result proved his caution was correct.
After a sound like a sonic boom, and a short delay-
"I didn't expect running out of mana to feel like this..."
Morin muttered as he left behind a trash can with two new holes punched through it, along with the mess created by his explosive charge. Making sure no one was nearby, he quickly left the area.
It had been a long time since he'd felt this empty.
Just now, a single use of the backstab skill had consumed the remaining half of his mana and delivered that sensation cleanly.
It was similar to how a normal person might feel after a one-night stand.
Assuming they could even get out of bed the next morning.
Fortunately, this emptiness came purely from mana depletion. Morin waited about a minute, letting his body absorb and replenish mana from the environment, and the sensation faded.
With consumption this extreme, the effect was naturally powerful.
The moment he activated the skill, Morin entered an extreme state.
He moved at a speed that even he could barely process, rushing behind the selected trash can and instinctively executing a backstab.
The entire sequence was so fast that Morin felt certain of one thing.
If he were on the receiving end, he wouldn't have time to react, dodge, or defend.
He hadn't been holding a weapon.
Yet when he made the stabbing motion, an energy blade formed naturally in his hand.
It pierced the trash can almost without resistance.
A perfect heart stab.
(Trash can: "What did I do to deserve this, you @#&%-")
"I can use this as a final trump card," Morin decided.
"But absolutely not at the start."
If he burned all his mana at the beginning, how was he supposed to keep fighting afterward?
He couldn't afford to be that weak.
...
"What did you mean earlier?"
As Morin neared the training base, Wick called.
Although the time Morin spent with Helen had only been around ten minutes, Wick had deliberately waited several hours before calling.
For a man, many things were negotiable.
Timing was not.
Even if it was fake, face had to be saved.
"Training base?" Wick asked. "What are you planning to train me for?"
"Some techniques that'll be useful to you," Morin said, stopping the car.
"You're strong, Wick. But not strong enough."
"I'm curious," Wick replied. "What kind of techniques?"
"For example-"
Morin walked into the training base. He could already hear screams and the dull sounds of impacts from inside.
"A technique that lets bullets curve."
"Want to learn it?"
Wick: "!!!"
"If you do, hurry over," Morin continued. "Our first mission's starting soon."
He hung up and walked into the factory.
Inside, a heartwarming father-son bonding scene was unfolding.
The hitting and wailing noises were coming from Wesley being beaten senseless by Carlos.
"So this is how assassins train?" Morin walked over to Fox, who was standing nearby with her arms crossed.
"Does every assassin go through this?"
"Haven't you?" Fox asked in return.
"Of course not," Morin shook his head. "I don't need to."
"Who knows what kind of freak you are," Fox said, recalling Morin's ghostlike speed and overwhelming strength.
She explained calmly, "We use this to train willpower and to stimulate and strengthen the body."
"When the assassin bloodline is active, our vision, speed, and strength increase-but our senses are amplified as well."
"If we're injured in that state, the pain is several times stronger than normal."
"Only through repeated hardship and an iron will can we endure that pain without fainting or dropping out of the bloodline state."
"Then..." Morin frowned slightly. "I have a question."
"Hm?"
"Why not just... avoid getting hit?"
Fox: "???"
Nearby, Wesley-panting heavily-had been paying close attention to the conversation between Morin and Fox.
Like any young man nursing a secret crush, he was extremely sensitive to any man who got close to the object of his affection.
Afraid his goddess might be taken away.
Yet when it came to him, he couldn't say a single word.
But when he heard Morin's question, his eyes lit up.
"That's right, Father!" Wesley said quickly.
"If I don't get hit, then I don't need this kind of training, right?"
He was already very practiced at calling him Father.
Carlos didn't respond.
He simply punched Wesley in the face, knocking him flat.
Carlos's expression was dark.
Do you think you're that monster who can dodge bullets at will?
If you were, would you need me to train you?
Wouldn't you have taken me down in one or two moves already?
Can't you face reality, you idiot?
To avoid crushing Wesley's confidence completely, Carlos swallowed those words.
Instead, with frustration and unspeakable anger, he hit even harder.
Wesley cried out.
Fox clenched her teeth.
Morin's casual remark irritated her deeply.
Why do I feel like I'm being looked down on?
"Since you're so confident," Fox said suddenly, "why don't we test it?"
"Of course," Morin raised an eyebrow, interested. "How?"
"If all it takes is not getting injured," Fox said,
"then let's see if you can stay completely unharmed under a hail of bullets."
"What do you say?"
"As you wish," Morin agreed immediately.
Perfect timing.
He hadn't yet tested the enhancement from his newly upgraded [Beginner Templar Bloodline].
...
"Are we really doing this?" Wesley whispered nervously, looking at Morin standing fifty meters away.
He leaned toward Fox. "I just have a bad feeling. What if something goes wrong?"
"Don't worry," Carlos said grimly. "Use your full strength."
He was mildly annoyed that Wesley had asked Fox instead of him.
"That man is far more terrifying than you can imagine."
"Yes," Fox agreed seriously.
"I've seen it myself."
"It's... like a monster."
"Really?" Wesley was still skeptical. Especially since it was Fox saying it.
When the woman you like praises another man, skepticism is unavoidable-even if you know it's true.
"You'll see," Fox said, shaking her head.
She stopped talking, activated her assassin bloodline, and began taking deep breaths.