While Neo was still catching his breath, wounded but proud after dropping those two thieves, Shiro was on a whole different battlefield.
He was deep inside enemy territory, and he wasn't showing mercy.
Bodyguard after bodyguard fell. Bullets flew, knives clashed. Shiro wasn't flashy—he was efficient. Ruthless. Once the last guard dropped, silence took over.
He stepped inside the mansion. Quiet.
Too quiet.
Then, out of nowhere—a little girl ran across the hallway. No warning. No time to think.
Bang.
One shot to the skull. She dropped.
She was Vanlek Omaric's daughter.
Shiro didn't flinch. His eyes were cold. Distant. His voice? Just a whisper to himself:
"I'm an assassin. Nothing else matters."
He kept moving, slow and steady. Reaching the kitchen, he saw a woman—smiling, soft, unaware.
"You're already home, honey!" she said, turning around—
Two bullets.
One for each eye. She didn't even scream.
Blood on the tiles. Shiro just stood there.
Vanlek Omaric wasn't home. But he would be.
So Shiro dragged a chair into the middle of the living room, sat down, bleeding a little, but calm like death was on his side. Four hours passed.
Then the front door creaked open.
Vanlek stepped in—big, tall, built like a war machine. He froze when he saw the rookie waiting in his living room like it was his own home.
Vanlek's face twisted. Shock, then a smirk.
"They sent a new recruit to kill me?" he scoffed.
From the floorboard, Vanlek pulled out a hidden rifle.
"You know I'm going to kill you, right?" he said.
Shiro stood up slowly, cracking his neck.
"I murdered your wife and daughter," he replied. "She didn't even get a chance to scream."
Vanlek's hands shook. "You sick bastard!"
Gunshots lit the room.
Shiro was hit—shoulder, leg, side. He dropped hard.
Vanlek laughed as Shiro groaned. "Where's the real assassin, huh? You're nothing but a broken kid!"
But then... flashback.
Back during the guard fight, Shiro was cornered. Outnumbered, tired. He had to run and hide in the forest just to survive. He knew—if only he'd mastered Metro, it would've been over already.
But he wasn't there yet.
So he closed his eyes.
Breathed.
He reached for his belief—his key—and suddenly, click... something shifted. A weapon formed in his hand. It wasn't metal—it was Concept Weapon.
It drained him, burned through his body like fire, but he used it. Clean shots. Smart angles. He outplayed them and came back bloody but alive.
Now, in the present, as Vanlek stood above him laughing—BANG.
A shot echoed.
Vanlek stumbled back, hit square in the chest.
He gasped. "Why... do your bullets... burn like hell?"
Shiro pulled himself up, blood dripping from his lips.
"Because they come from metro," he said, eyes cold. "And right now, I believe you're the one who's weak."