The message arrived at dawn.
A rider in dark armor approached Sataro's tent, stopping sharply, steam rising from his horse's breath.
"You. Soldier."
He tossed a sealed scroll to Sataro.
"You've been summoned by order of King Sable."
Sataro's heart pounded in his throat.
"The king… wants to see me?"
"Yes. Immediately. Prepare yourself."
The messenger galloped away, leaving a cloud of dust.
Sataro stared down at the scroll, excitement bubbling.
The king noticed me…
He felt honored.
Proud.
He had no idea it was for reasons darker than skill.
Before the Throne
The king's field headquarters sat inside a massive white pavilion, guarded by elite soldiers with silver crests on their armor.
As Sataro entered, the air felt colder.
Inside, King Sable stood with his back to him, white hair cascading like moonlight, looking over a large war map lit by lanterns.
General Kaizen—stern, battle-scarred, intimidating—stood by his side.
They turned as Sataro stepped inside.
Sataro dropped to one knee, heart racing.
"My king."
King Sable studied him, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips.
"You're young," Sable murmured, "and yet… the battlefield bends around you as if it recognizes you."
Sataro's face warmed with pride.
"I only want to serve the kingdom, sir."
Kaizen snorted softly, impressed by the boy's humility.
The king approached, placing a hand under Sataro's chin, lifting it so their eyes met.
"Tell me, Sataro… do you enjoy war?"
Sataro swallowed.
"…I enjoy protecting people, my king."
"And the killing?"
Sable's voice was soft. Too soft.
Sataro hesitated.
"It… comes naturally to me, sir."
Sable's smile sharpened.
"I know."
The Offer
Kaizen stepped forward, holding a black wooden box.
"Inside is something very few soldiers ever earn."
Sataro opened it.
A mask.
Black, polished wood.
White streak across the left eye.
Shaped like a warrior's face without emotion.
It felt heavy in his hands.
"This," Kaizen said, "belongs to the king's Special Military Division."
Sataro blinked. "Special… forces? Me?"
"Yes," Sable said, voice proud.
"The elite shadows of the kingdom. The hand of the crown. You will infiltrate, eliminate, and strike without hesitation.
You will be unseen, unheard… unstoppable."
Sataro lifted the mask to eye level.
He felt something swell in his chest — ambition, pride, excitement.
"I accept," he said without hesitation.
Sable nodded.
"Then rise, Sataro."
Sataro stood tall.
"From today forward…
you serve the kingdom as one of my shadows."
The Black Barracks
The special forces facility was nothing like the regular camp.
High stone walls.
Dark banners.
No laughing soldiers — only killers with cold eyes.
Sataro was led inside by Captain Jiro, a tall man with two scars crossing his cheek.
"This place will break you," Jiro said.
"Or make you invincible.
There is no in-between."
Sataro nodded confidently.
"I'm ready."
Training Like No Other
Special forces training was brutal:
running until legs shook
holding stances until bones screamed
sparring with veterans twice his size
blindfolded combat
ambush drills in pitch-black rooms
silent movement tests where even breathing too loud meant failure
Every night, Sataro collapsed onto his bunk sore and exhausted.
But he NEVER complained.
Never backed down.
Never slowed.
Veterans whispered:
"Why doesn't he tire?"
"He moves like a ghost…"
"He's only a kid, but…"
One night, after sparring five adults back-to-back, Jiro approached him, wiping sweat from his scarred forehead.
"Tell me something, kid," he said. "What drives you?"
Sataro thought of Haruto's letters.
His parents' promise to return.
The village he grew up in.
The pride of wearing the king's emblem.
"I want to be strong," Sataro said simply. "Strong enough that no one can hurt the people I love."
Jiro nodded slowly.
"That's a good reason," he murmured. "Hold onto it.
Soldiers like us lose our reasons too easily."
The First Mission as a Shadow
After weeks of training, Sataro was finally issued his first task.
"Recon and elimination," Jiro explained. "Rebel mages spotted near the abandoned hill fort. We suspect they're planning an attack."
Sataro fastened the mask for the first time.
It fit perfectly, like it was made for him.
"You'll move ahead of the squad," Jiro said. "Silent. Unseen. If danger arises… remove it."
Sataro nodded, heart pounding with excitement.
He sprinted through the forest—silent as the wind, sword ready.
When he reached the hill fort, he froze.
Dozens of rebel mages.
Not a small group — a whole uprising cell.
Most soldiers would have retreated.
Sataro didn't.
He attacked.
Fast.
Precise.
Unstoppable.
He dodged fire spells by inches, decapitated one mage, rolled under a lightning strike, and cut down three more before they could raise their talismans.
"Wh-who is that—?!" a rebel screamed.
"A demon—!"
"No… it's him… the Silent Blade!"
The battle ended in minutes.
Sataro stood among the fallen, chest rising steadily.
He didn't feel fear.
He felt… proud.
His first mission as special forces was an overwhelming success.
Whispers in the Dark
When he returned, the barracks buzzed with murmurs.
"He cleared an entire rebel cell ALONE."
"He fought like he could see the attacks before they came."
"That mask suits him too well…"
Jiro clapped Sataro on the shoulder.
"Not bad, kid," he said with a rare smile.
"You're one of us now."
Sataro stood tall.
"Yes, sir."
He didn't know why the king watched his progress closely.
Didn't suspect the truth about his bloodline.
Didn't question the missions that felt… too targeted.
He only knew one thing:
He was becoming stronger.
And he believed — truly believed — he was doing the right thing.