The Cheat Seed

Chapter 35

"WHO ARE YOU?"

Marcus's voice boomed, the sound reverberating through the woods with enough force to scatter birds from nearby trees. The three culprits sprawled before him flinched in unison. The fourth remained planted in the earth, his legs pointing skyward in a grim monument to Marcus's power.

The trio trembled, exchanging terrified glances. What they had anticipated would be "easy as f**k" had turned into a nightmare scenario—a boss-level encounter set to ultra-hardcore difficulty with no save points.

"Ah, so you won't speak?"

Marcus stepped toward the man who had impersonated his father. He raised his leg slowly, deliberately, giving the fallen assassin ample time to witness what was coming. The methodical nature of the movement somehow made it more terrifying than any sudden attack.

He brought his foot down with a sickening boom. The man's leg shattered, bone splintering beneath the impact. The lower portion of the limb detached completely, flying several feet into the air. Blood fountained from the wound, a crimson geyser that painted the grass. Marcus casually grabbed a rock beside him and kicked it directly into the wound, sealing it like a grotesque cork. The man's scream crescendoed into a voice-cracking shriek before fading into whimpering sobs. The blood flow stopped.

"Well, that worked."

Marcus smiled innocently, eyes closed as if reflecting on a pleasant memory. When he opened them again, his pupils had returned to their calm turquoise green rather than the blood-red fury of moments before.

"If you want to live, then tell me now—who are you guys, why are you here, and mainly... who sent you?"

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the wounded man's muffled groans. Marcus stretched his neck, satisfaction evident in his expression when it cracked.

"So... you've chosen death?"

He raised his right hand skyward. This wasn't his Galactic Palm or Fist—just his normal punch, which now packed enough power to level an entire country. The System noted internally that this was only a country now, rather than a continent or planet, due to the power reduction from the Flame Emperor's "gifts."

Just as his fist began its deadly descent, the sniper woman shouted desperately:

"We are truly sorry, please don't kill us!"

Marcus halted mid-strike. He nodded once, then vanished. In less than a heartbeat, he reappeared with a wooden chair from his home.

"You have two minutes." He sat down slowly but leaned his torso forward, eyes boring into the intruders.

"We... we are the Quadra Hydra," the sniper stammered.

"Hm! Go on." Marcus prompted, suddenly interested.

The woman swallowed hard and continued, ignoring the looks of disgust and fear from her fellow assassins.

"We are renowned assassins and former members of the Mercenary Guild. We received a contract from an unknown source at our secret base—a letter with payment of 2000 gold coins already beside it."

"What did the letter say?" Marcus asked, resting his chin on his hand, expression twisted into curious surprise.

The sniper hesitated, glancing at her injured companions. They both silently pleaded with her to remain silent, despite their pain. Marcus understood their hesitation—the strict code of their assassin crew forbade revealing contract details unless they successfully eliminated their target.

But the terrified woman had no choice. The being before her wasn't human by any measure—he was something else entirely, something beyond comprehension.

"Well, thank you," Marcus smiled.

The woman gasped, realizing he'd read her thoughts. Telepathic reading, another perk of the Emperor's seed—a skill that had helped identify honest court members during his rule.

"Now that you know you can't hide anything..." Marcus's innocent smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by something feral and predatory. "Why don't you just spill the beans already?"

The sniper lowered her head, fixing her gaze on Marcus's feet, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"The letter... it said... to capture the G Orno family, especially the elder son," she admitted, hesitating before forcing herself to continue.

"Go on," Marcus urged.

"There was nothing else except the target address and the final payment amount on the rest of the letter." She slumped back to the ground, exhausted by fear as much as her injuries.

"I knew it," Marcus whispered to himself.

Since returning from the Dungeons just yesterday, he'd sensed something—or someone—watching him. It was as if whoever had sent these assassins had been waiting for his arrival. He remembered reaching Krozon around 4 PM, hearing the clock tower strike as he passed through town toward home.

"Wait!"

Marcus bolted upright, sending the chair flying into the woods with a distant thump. The sniper jolted up reflexively, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"Tell me... when did that assassination contract arrive?"

"Eh?" The woman frowned in confusion before concentrating.

Her memory reconstructed the previous evening: walking toward a stone wall, sliding it open, finding the letter at her feet. She recalled reading the contract carefully before being called downstairs by Cloy—the man whose leg Marcus had just destroyed. She had closed the rock wall and bounced downstairs, glimpsing the clock as she went.

"YESTERDAY!!! AT 3:58 PM!!!" she exclaimed.

Marcus's eyes widened. His suspicion was confirmed—someone had been stalking him. But why? He'd been in Krozon mere minutes before the contract was issued. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air, quickly absorbed by his sweatshirt.

Questions flooded his mind. Who could have known he would return? Who would want to capture him rather than kill him outright? And why target his family too?

Gradually, his surprise transformed into something else—a twisted smile spread across his face as his eyes glowed crimson once more.

"Whatever! At least now I'll get a decent challenger," he grinned, turning his back to the assassins and raising both hands toward the sky.

The shirt he'd thrown earlier spread itself open before gently landing in his outstretched arms. With a single shake, he slipped it on and wiped sweat from his forehead. He considered the three broken assassins sprawled before him.

What was he supposed to do with them now?

After a minute of contemplation, Marcus broke the silence with a low chuckle.

"Why don't you guys..." He paused mid-sentence and turned to face them fully, hands sliding into his pockets, shirt hanging open at his sides. With subtle manipulation of air currents, he arranged his hair perfectly. "Work for me?"

The assassins exchanged confused glances, uncertain if they'd heard correctly.

"What?" the sniper managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You heard me," Marcus replied, his eyes calculating beneath their friendly veneer. "Someone out there knows I'm back and wants me captured. I want to know who—and why."

He crouched before them, bringing his face level with theirs. "And who better to help me find a secretive enemy than professional assassins?"

The woman's expression shifted from fear to careful consideration. The two men remained silent, one unconscious from his fall, the other grimacing through waves of pain from his destroyed leg.

"But... why would you trust us?" she asked. "We tried to kidnap your family."

Marcus's smile grew sharper. "Trust? Who said anything about trust?"

He stretched out his hand, palm open, a strange symbol burning into existence on his skin. "I'm offering you a choice between death and service. But make no mistake—if you choose service, you'll be bound by something far more powerful than your assassin's code."

The woman stared at the glowing mark, recognition dawning in her eyes. "A Soul Binding contract..."

"Exactly," Marcus nodded. "So what will it be? Die here as failed assassins, or live as my eyes and ears in Krozon's underworld?"