The Cheat Seed

Chapter 37

"Thank you for giving me a second chance at life," the man said, finding his voice as he tested his newly healed legs with tentative steps.

Marcus nodded, satisfaction glimmering in his eyes. "Consider this a down payment on your future service." With that, he turned his attention to Cloy, whose leg he'd brutally severed moments before.

Approaching the fallen assassin, Marcus crouched beside him. Cloy flinched, anticipating more pain, but Marcus merely smiled. With a swift, precise motion, he tapped the broken stump where the leg had been. His fingers brushed against the rock he'd jammed into the wound to stop the bleeding, and it crumbled to dust at his touch.

A warm glow emanated from the point of contact. Muscle fibers stretched and wove together like living threads, bone materialized from nothing, and skin crawled over the newly formed limb. Within seconds, a perfect leg had replaced the severed one.

"Stand," Marcus commanded.

Cloy hesitated, disbelief etched across his face.

"I said stand," Marcus repeated, his voice gentle but firm.

The assassin obeyed, wobbling slightly as he put weight on the newly formed limb. His eyes widened when it supported him perfectly—stronger, in fact, than it had been before.

"This is impossible," he whispered.

Marcus merely shrugged and moved to the masked lady next. She cradled her broken arm against her chest, her eyes watching him warily above her half-mask. Unlike his approach with Cloy, Marcus moved with deliberate gentleness, kneeling before her.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing toward her shattered limb.

After a moment's hesitation, she extended her injured arm with a grimace of pain. Marcus carefully took her hand in his, his touch feather-light. He tapped her broken wrist, and like Cloy's leg, the injury began to mend itself. Bone fragments fused back together, dislocated joints snapped into place with an audible c***k.

The woman sat up with a jolt, a small gasp escaping her lips. She flexed her fingers in amazement, rotating her wrist back and forth as if testing the reality of her healed limb.

Finally, Marcus turned his attention to the sniper. He bent over her cautiously, noting how she cringed away from him. There was something almost endearing about her reaction—a vulnerability at odds with her deadly profession.

"Easy," he murmured, reaching toward her face. "I'm not going to hurt you."

His fingertips brushed against her broken nose with exquisite care. The bleeding stopped instantly, and the cartilage reshaped itself, not merely returning to its previous form but becoming somehow more refined, more perfect.

Marcus tilted his head slightly, studying her face with newfound curiosity. "What's your name?" he asked.

She appeared to be around his age, perhaps a year older. Now that the terror had subsided from her features, he could see she was quite attractive, with delicate features that contrasted sharply with her deadly occupation.

"Ke... Kerin," she stammered, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Ah, Kerin. Quite a beautiful name you got there," Marcus replied with a genuine smile.

Her blush deepened at his words. "Thank you," she whispered.

"And... I'm really sorry for doing that to your nose," Marcus said as he straightened up.

He turned to address the rest of the crew. "I apologize to you guys too."

They stared at him in surprise, then nodded hesitantly, clearly bewildered by this shift from terrifying adversary to polite young man.

"No, we are sorry!!" The older man, now standing on his own two legs after years in a wheelchair, fell to his knees before Marcus, tears streaming from his newly restored eyes.

"Ah, it's okay," Marcus said, bending down to lift him back to his feet. "After all, nothing serious happened."

As if the universe had waited for precisely this moment to contradict him, a tremendous crash echoed behind them. All five turned to witness Marcus's house crumble in on itself, walls collapsing and roof caving in with a resounding boom.

Marcus stared at the wreckage of his childhood home, his expression shifting to awkward embarrassment. "Ah... OOPSIE."

He turned back to the assassins with an apologetic grin. "Well, it would be nice if you guys could help me in fixing this though... hehe."

Kerin was the first to react, breaking into uncontrollable laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Here stood the most terrifying being she'd ever encountered, looking sheepishly at the ruins of his home like a child who'd broken his mother's favorite vase.

Her crewmates stared at her in disbelief, clearly fearing Marcus's reaction to her amusement. But to their astonishment, Marcus's blank stare dissolved into genuine mirth. He joined in her laughter, the sound rich and warm in the afternoon air.

The tension drained from the scene as the remaining assassins cautiously added their own nervous chuckles, the bizarre camaraderie of shared absurdity bringing them together.

---

By five o'clock that evening, the house stood fully rebuilt. Marcus had done most of the work, zipping around the globe at impossible speeds to gather materials, while the assassins helped however they could. His face lit up with childish delight when he surveyed the completed structure.

He brought a large tank of water for his helpers, who gratefully quenched their thirst after the labor. Meanwhile, his parents remained safely asleep in the basement, still under the sleep magic the assassins had used during their initial attack. Marcus had discovered them that morning during his frantic search for Evy's impersonator.

Now, all five sat in the newly rebuilt living room. The assassins occupied chairs on one side, facing the wall, still nervous despite Marcus's apparent forgiveness. They fidgeted with their torn clothes, anxious energy finding small outlets. Kerin twirled a strand of her blonde layer-cut hair and adjusted her tilted beanie.

Marcus pulled a chair close to the table by the wall. He removed his shirt and tied it around his waist, his sleeveless sweatshirt revealing perfectly sculpted biceps and shoulders. As he sat down and rested his head on one hand, his muscles flexed subtly, drawing Kerin's attention before she quickly looked away.

When she glanced at her female colleague, she noticed the woman was also staring appreciatively at Marcus. Kerin felt an unexpected pang of jealousy and pouted.

"Let's start with the introductions then," Marcus suggested.

The eldest began. "Good evening. My name is Luka, age 45, previously a member of the Assassins Guild."

Marcus nodded with a smile and turned his attention to the next assassin.

"Good evening, I am Cloy, Cloy Ravens, age 24, previously a member of the Assassin Guild and a comrade of Luka."

The surname struck Marcus like a physical blow. "Hey Cloy... are you... connected to Ancestor Ravens by any means?"

"Ah, he is my Great, Great Ancestor Uncle," Cloy replied casually.

"Woah." Marcus's eyes widened in genuine amazement. "It must feel amazing to be the descendant of the Ravens family!"

"No... not at all." Cloy shrugged dismissively.

"Eh?" Marcus couldn't hide his surprise.

"He was a traitor, a traitor who caused the entire world to suffer because of his obsession to gain more power," Cloy continued, his voice bitter.

"Huh?" Marcus's surprise deepened.

"Wasn't it him, who went against the King's words and summoned another god from the f*******n land?"

Marcus stared in disbelief. Everything he'd learned in the dungeons contradicted this version of history. It had been the king who summoned the Evil God to destroy Ravens—not the other way around. But he couldn't correct this falsehood without revealing how he knew the truth.

"What are you telling Cloy?" he managed, carefully controlling his reaction.

"I'm sorry, I can't continue anymore, please forgive me," Cloy said, seemingly uncomfortable with the topic.

"Ah, I am sorry for prying too much into your personal matters," Marcus replied.

Using his enhanced abilities, Marcus peered into Cloy's memories. He witnessed a woman—likely Cloy's mother—speaking to her son while gently massaging his head: "Our Ancestor Ravens, your Ancestral uncle was a traitor. He is the only reason why the Earth might get destroyed at any time. He craved for power, and when the other god came and got out of control, it almost wiped out our own Ancestors. They barely managed to escape. So Cloy, you must not crave for more power than you can achieve. It will eventually turn out to be a hazard for you and to the whole human existence. Remember this. Don't degrade our family name more than it already is."

Marcus shook his head imperceptibly. The Ravens family had been fed lies for generations, their own ancestor vilified to protect the king's reputation. He silently vowed to clear Ravens's name someday.

Masking his thoughts, he smiled and turned to the masked woman.

"Good evening, I am Melova, Melova Queen. Age 24, I was also a part of the Assassins Guild alongside Cloy and Luka," she said, her voice smooth and melodic behind her half-mask.

"You have a nice throw, by the way," Marcus grinned. "It almost took away my head."

Melova blushed at the compliment and nodded her thanks.

Finally, Marcus turned his attention to Kerin. "Care to tell more about yourself, Kerin?" he asked, his voice dropping to a deeper register.

(*What the hell? Since when did he become such a playboy?*) the System commented silently in his mind.

Kerin's cheeks flushed crimson. Her eyes darted around the room as she rubbed her hands together nervously. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled slightly.

"He-Hello, Good Evening, I am Kerin Oretta. Age 19. I dropped out from the Unreal Academy and was a part of the Assassins Guild."

"Wait, Unreal Academy?" Marcus perked up with genuine interest. "You must have some amazing talent then. What's your Seed?"

Before Kerin could answer, Luka interjected, noticing her discomfort. "All three of us have Monarch ranked Seeds except Kerin," he explained. "She has a Legendary Seed."