Atop a mountain of Entity corpses, a white-haired man stood tall, his hair raging wildly within the storm.
Rain washed the color from his white robes. White eyes, white hair, white garments—everything blended into one, giving him a sacred presence, as if the world itself could not stain him.
"Truly… magnificent."
A young dove stared in awe.
"It seems this is your first time witnessing White Raven's power."
His focus shattered. He swallowed hard.
Only two words—yet unbearably heavy.
"White Raven…"
"The strongest human in history… that really is him?"
The senior dove lit a cigarette. Even as the storm roared, he paid it no mind.
"Kekeke, that's right, kid. That's him."
"The strongest human—White Raven."
A single raindrop fell, extinguishing the cigarette.
"The strongest? Of course it's White Raven."
"The strongest 7-Star? Naturally, White Raven."
"He governs the very concept of strength itself. How could he not be the strongest?"
"White Raven is the strongest."
The voices whispered endlessly into his ears.
The strongest.
The strongest.
Those words echoed without end.
"Long time no see, Senior Raven."
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
Only one person ever addressed him that way—calling him White Raven, not the strongest.
"Long time no see, Pigeon."
A man with a warm smile yet shrouded in mystery stood before him—Pigeon Xander.
"May I sit?"
"Of course."
Pigeon sat down and ordered a bowl of noodles. Two transcendent beings now took shelter beneath a roadside noodle stall.
"I heard your younger brother was in an accident. How is he?"
"He survived, but he lost his memories."
"My condolences. You won't be returning this August?"
"I will. Just a little later."
White Raven sipped his green tea, clasped his hands together, and gently tapped the table.
A server arrived with an antique teapot, refilled Raven's cup, then left without a word.
"You're not drinking?" Raven asked.
"I only drink coffee."
For those who had surpassed mortality, food and drink were nothing more than lingering habits.
Raven withdrew his offer and drank alone.
"I heard your brother joined the Entity Corporation."
Pigeon smiled, unable to resist teasing him.
"Aren't you quite the eavesdropper?"
A faint smile formed on Raven's face.
"Thank you for the praise."
"Hahaha. But it's true. My brother joined the Entity Corporation."
Raven pointed toward the television, which displayed news of Prince Claudius Jahanam's arrival in Faulust City.
"The escort mission will proceed. Aren't you worried?"
Pigeon lowered his gaze.
"Of course I am. But there are still Entities that must be captured."
"You're not finished yet?"
Raven was the strongest—he could not truly understand Pigeon's position.
"Senior, I'm sure this is trivial for you. Please don't apply your standards to us."
"Hmm." Raven paused. "Then have you identified the culprit?"
Pigeon's expression turned icy.
"7-Star Abingel."
•••
Assassin Association Headquarters.
A beautiful woman with short black hair walked through the corridor. Her expression was calm, cold, and merciless. She wore modest clothing and a long skirt.
Courtesy remained the norm in this world. Aristocratic culture still ruled. And in an era where many women flaunted their figures, her appearance made one thing clear—she was deeply traditional.
"Chimera!"
A man waved at her.
In stark contrast, he wore wrinkled clothes. His dark blue hair was a mess, his posture lazy. Yet his deep blue eyes radiated danger.
"Winter Ghost. Long time no see."
"Come on, aren't you being too stiff?"
Ghost stepped forward and thrust a pen—only for his wrist to be twisted and dislocated in an instant.
"You're still sharp as ever."
Chimera ignored him and walked past.
Meanwhile, Ghost focused on fixing his wrist.
'One o'clock—Chimera. Even after countless attempts, she's still nearly impossible to kill.'
They entered the same room.
The room was dark.
Figures with bizarre appearances gathered inside.
They shared only one thing—danger.
"So, who's taking the assassination mission on Prince Claudius?" asked a large man.
The o'clock members fell silent. Though powerful, none wished to take on such a troublesome mission—killing a prince guarded by elite escorts.
The silence stretched on.
"I'll take it."
5-Star.
2 o'clock.
A group chat member with the nickname "No scope."
He had accepted the assassination mission.
•••
Northern region of the Empire.
A land that knew only one season—winter.
Amid endless white plains stood a wooden cabin.
A blond-haired boy ran across the snow, dressed in thick northern clothes.
"Grandpa! Grandpa!"
"I caught a really big deer!"
"Oh?" The white-haired old man frowned.
"It's true! That deer was huge—about the size of a bear!"
"Then where is it?"
The boy lowered his head, looking troubled.
"I already ate it…"
Seeing his expression, the grandfather gently patted his head.
"Why look so sad, Wulf? It's fine that you ate it."
"It's just… Grandpa always saves food for me, but I ate the deer by myself."
"I see." The old man smiled. "That makes Grandpa very happy. You can hunt another one and bring it to me next time."
Wulf grinned.
"I promise!"
He ran back into the snowfield.
"Long time no see, Lord Lugh."
A dark-skinned man emerged from the shadows. He wore a neat suit, a friendly smile on his face, and an aura of charisma—yet his black eyes were devoid of warmth.
"What brings the Chairman of Double A here?" Lugh asked calmly.
That man was the founder and chairman of the Assassin Association—Cultus Ashin.
"My apologies for arriving unannounced. I bring an invitation from one of the Empire's high-ranking officials—to assassinate Claudius Jahanam."
"I refuse."
"Isn't that child the son of the sorcerer couple you killed?" Cultus stared at him. "Is he the reason you left the Association?"
Lugh met his gaze without fear.
They fell silent before Cultus spoke again.
"A child his age should be attending school, studying, making friends—not living in a place like this."
"Ten million Volar if you succeed. Even if you fail, your grandson will still receive one million Volar."
Lugh looked toward his beloved grandson hunting deer in the distance. He lowered his head briefly before speaking.
"Very well. I'll accept."
"But give me the names of every assassin involved."
Cultus smiled.
2 o'clock — Winter Ghost
One of the 100 most influential assassins in history — Grey
White Suit — Hector
Coffee Siblings — Twix Coffee
Coffee Siblings — Better Coffee
Coffee Siblings — Nextar Coffee
Marionettis — Marionettis
And more than five hundred third-rate assassins.