A man wearing a black coat and pants, with a black hat on his head and the symbol of two hands holding a lotus on his chest, was struggling to breathe under the rubble of a collapsed building. His legs were crushed under the weight of the bricks.
"Someone, help me! I don't want to die!"
He shouted, hoping someone would hear his cries and come to save him. But no one came. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed his hands together in prayer.
"Mother… what have we done to anger you?"
"Why are we suffering in this chaos?"
"Give me… an answer, Mother Arlshuwiya!"
Suddenly, a small brick fell and struck his head. His eyes widened—he thought the rest of the rubble was about to collapse on him. He screamed in panic,
"MOTHER!"
"SAVE ME!!"
Then, through the smoke and dust, a sharp, feminine voice called out, "Shut your mouth and let me take you out!"
His eyes widened with hope.
"Mother! You're here to save me!"
But the voice replied, still strained, "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not your mother. I'm Anastasia Morozova, senior civil service officer. Now please be quiet."
He closed his mouth, but deep inside, he still believed she had been sent by the goddess herself.
A faint glimmer touched his eyes as the rocks blocking the light were pulled away. Though Anastasia wasn't physically strong, she did her best to remove the debris.
Then came the largest slab—wider than both of Anastasia's hands combined. Around them, there was nothing but smoke and fire. No one else was around to help. The heavy stones were still pressing down on the man's body. His legs were crushed, and he was already paralyzed.
"That's some heavy injury you've got… I need to find a doctor," she muttered, "but first, I need to get these big ones off you."
She tried to push the massive stone, but it didn't move an inch. Instead, the pressure worsened, and the man screamed in pain.
Anastasia stopped, breathing hard. She didn't know what to do next.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
Anastasia turned her head, thinking it was her juniors—but it wasn't.
Two people in black robes and black masks stood there, each marked with the pattern of an M.
"Who are yo—wait, can you help me push this?" she quickly changed the topic. At that moment, saving a life was more important than asking questions.
The two figures looked at each other and nodded. Then, the one on the right drew a sword and gripped his hook launcher tightly.
Anastasia's eyes widened. Then she understood.
Two strangers, hiding their identity behind eerie masks and robes. Armed with a sword—and that strange flying machine.
They were assassins.
She quickly pulled her revolver from her coat pocket.
"Stand still where you are," she warned, "otherwise I won't hesitate to shoot."
But the assassin didn't stop—he charged.
Anastasia fired.
They dodged the bullets with ease, using their hooks to launch themselves out of her line of fire.
They were fast. Too fast.
That strange machine… it was helping them...
But Anastasia didn't stop. She ran behind the largest slab nearby.
The man was scared, he hid his face and started praying to the Mother Goddess.
Anastasia peeked out a bit. A hook was about to land on her face. She quickly backed off.
The assassin was now in front of her. She aimed, but before she could shoot, something heavy hit her head.
She lost her balance, dropped the gun, and fell to the ground. She was still conscious, but her body was paralyzed for the moment.
She moved her eyes. The thing that hit her was the sword hilt of the other assassin.
Damn it, I forgot there were two. Now I have no way to run. I can't stand. I have to think of something before they kill me. I need to save as many people as possible.
One of them picked up the revolver and pointed it at her.
"Saving anyone will not take you anywhere. Give up and die. I will free you from the slavery of Russia."
That person's voice was also robotic. Anastasia couldn't tell if it was a male or female.
But she yelled back,
"I'm not doing slavery! I'm working for my nation! My motherland!
You assassins don't know anything because you don't have a nationality! You go where you find money and nothing more!
But I—I've lived, fed, and been raised on this land! I'm not a slave of Russia!
I AM A PROUD RUSSIAN!"
"Proud Russian, you say?"
One of the assassins crushed her face with his boot.
"You should be in politics instead of civil service."
Then they both started laughing.
Their robotic laughs rang in her ears—
and that hurt more than the boot pressing into her face.
Then the assassin lifted her by her hair, tore off the Russian flag from her uniform, and threw her back on the ground.
"I heard you Russians find it disrespectful when your flag touches the ground. I should try it out with this one."
"Don't even dare to think about something like that," she growled. "I swear I'll blow your head off."
The assassin didn't look threatened. He dropped the flag.
Anastasia wasn't in a state to move even an inch.
The flag was about to touch the ground.
Anastasia shut her eyes in guilt.
"AAAAAA!!"
She heard two screams at once.
When she opened her eyes—
both of them were beheaded, their bodies on the ground, blood pouring.
She wasn't used to such brutality.
She screamed, fear kicking her body into motion, and backed away.
"What happened to them?! Who did this?!"
Anastasia shouted, looking around—but saw no one.
Not even the flag that the assassin tore from her uniform.
"Where's the flag?" she muttered, searching quickly.
Then a voice echoed, calm and sharp:
"Are you looking for this?"
She looked up.
A person stood on top of the largest slab—the same one crushing the man.
He wore a black mask with 47 written in red.
The robe matched the other assassins', but the mask was different.
Anastasia grabbed the revolver from the dead assassin's hand and aimed it up at him.
"I'm not your enemy," the person said.
"How can I trust you? You're dressed just like them. You're an assassin too, even if you're from another organization," she snapped, eyeing the corpses.
"What is your organization? Who are you? Answer me."
She narrowed her eyes.
Her hands didn't shake. Her aim was locked.
The person stood silent for a moment, saying nothing. His grip was loose on the sword. He looked up for a second, then at the fire all around.
"What are you waiting for?! Answer me! Or I will shoot you!" Anastasia's grip tightened on the revolver.
He looked straight into her eyes. "I am..." hmm... if I honestly say, then I have a useful ability... useful... ace.
Pause...
"Ace."
"What?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Ugh... please save me first!" the man beneath the slab groaned in pain.
"I'm coming to hel—" before she could reach the slab—
The person 'Ace' cut the whole slab in half with his sword. The man took a relieved breath.
Then 'Ace' started leaving.
Anastasia, stunned by his strength, came back to reality and called out, "Wait, Mr. Ace!"
Ace looked back, pointing at himself. "Me?"
"Who else is here with the name Ace?" Anastasia's grip on her revolver loosened, as if she was beginning to trust him a bit.
Mr. Ace. That sounds better to me.
He moved back and picked up the black hat of the man who was still thanking the goddess for saving him.
Then he wore it—a guy with a black hat, a strange black mask with 47 written in red characters, wearing a black robe.
Mr.Ace...with this new identity I can kill assassins, without getting my real self dragged in.
Before anything else, she ordered someone through her handheld transceiver, giving her location.
"There's an injured devotee here. Send help immediately."
Then she looked back at Mr. Ace.
"You're physically pretty strong. You cut that slab with just one sword slash."
I'm not strong. I just activated Playtime by tapping my little toe on the slab—though it stopped just before touching it. Then I used Playtime to cut it and acted like the sword did it.
[Even a Small act of harming yourself can activate The Playtime].
That's what he thought, but he couldn't say it out loud. So, he simply nodded.
"And also, you still haven't told me—what organisation are you from? Who's your boss? Who sent you here?" she asked, raising her revolver again.
"I'm not from any organisation," he replied calmly. "But I'm planning to make one…
An organisation that will kill assassins."
"What?" Anastasia narrowed her eyes.
An assassin talking about killing other assassins? That's irony.
"Why do you want to kill other assassins after being one yourself?"
"I can't tell you that."
He reached out a hand. "How about you join me?"
"What?" She was shocked—an assassin asking her to join him.
"I'm a civil service officer. I will not become an assassin. Never!"
Mr. Ace sighed, then looked at her. "But you saw it yourself—you can't save anyone."
Pause..
"Even now, when those two assassins came, you couldn't even put up a proper fight. They disrespected you and your nation."
She looked down and clenched her fists.
"You know it deep inside. You're weak. You can't save anyone like this. But if you join me... you can save as many people as possible. You could even stop a war that might destroy your nation."
"And why do you think that joining you would let me save people?"
He walked toward her. She raised her guard. But then he leaned close and whispered in her ear,
"Because I can give you... Power."
Then he stepped back.
"The choice is yours. Your people's future depends on your decision."
He turned and started walking away. That's enough talking. I need to find Nadya.
She stood there, lost in her thoughts, watching him leave. She didn't even know if they would ever meet again.
Then something clicked inside her. She called out—
"Wait! I... I can't..."