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The forest clearing was bathed in silver moonlight, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood.
After looting the remains of Yeo Woon's Descendant, digesting his gains, and stashing the corpse in his inventory, Muyeon and Querehsha slipped through the tree line, their footsteps soundless on the damp earth.
Before them, the scene unfolded like a brutal painting—five assassins in dark blue Poison Clan robes encircled a lone figure near the weathered gravestone of Lady Hwa.
The original protagonist of this world, Yeo Woon.
Even from a distance, Muyeon could see the toll the fight had taken on his half-brother. His left arm hung limp at his side, dislocated from its socket. A deep gash across his chest wept crimson, staining his tattered robes. His nose had been broken, swelling grotesquely, yet his dark eyes burned with defiance.
At his feet, a single assassin lay motionless on the ground—clutching the hilt of a small blade embedded in his chest. 'So Yeo Woon managed to kill one of them?' Muyeon's lips twitched. 'Impressive for someone without a single drop of Ki or combat training…'
The remaining assassins moved with lethal precision, their blades glinting as they tightened the noose around Yeo Woon.
One lunged, a curved dagger aimed for his ribs. Yeo Woon twisted at the last second, his movements untrained but efficient. He didn't fight like a martial artist—no polished stances, no refined techniques. Instead, he fought like a cornered animal, all desperation and instinct.
Then Muyeon saw it—the glint of steel hidden in Yeo Woon's sleeve. A small blade, no longer than his palm, slipped into his grip.
The second assassin didn't even see it coming.
Yeo Woon suddenly collapsed to one knee, gasping as if his strength had finally failed him. The assassin hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before stepping forward to deliver the killing blow.
A fatal mistake.
In one fluid motion, Yeo Woon surged upward, his hidden blade flashing. The assassin screamed as the steel severed the tendons behind his knee, sending him crashing to the ground.
Before he could react, Yeo Woon was on him, driving the knife into his throat with a wet thunk.
'Two down.'
Muyeon exhaled slowly, watching as Yeo Woon staggered back, his breath ragged. Blood dripped from his wounds, his body trembling from exertion, yet he still stood. Still fought.
Querehsha tilted her head, her crimson eyes flickering with something akin to curiosity.
"Hmm," she mused, her voice a low purr. "This one doesn't know how to die."
Muyeon didn't respond. His fingers curled into fists, his mind racing.
This wasn't the weak, pitiable Yeo Woon from the manhwa.
Muyeon's fingers twitched at his side, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword as he watched Yeo Woon fight.
'He's better than the manhwa showed.'
The realization settled in his chest like a stone. The Yeo Woon from the pages of Nano Machine had been a desperate, untrained boy who only became a threat after receiving the Nano Machine. But this—this was different.
Yeo Woon moved with a feral grace, his body battered but his instincts sharp. When the third assassin came at him with a sweeping kick, Yeo Woon didn't try to block—he rolled, using the momentum to snatch up a broken branch from the ground and swing it like a club. The wood cracked against the assassin's knee, sending him stumbling back with a snarl.
'Adaptive. Resourceful.'
Muyeon's eyes narrowed. Yeo Woon wasn't using any formal martial arts—no stances, no techniques, nothing from the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's training manuals. Instead, he fought like a street rat who had learned survival through blood and bruises.
And yet...
He was winning.
Well, maybe not winning. But at least, he wasn't dying as fast as he should have been.
'This is the perfect chance to eliminate him.'
The thought was cold, clinical. Yeo Woon was weakened, surrounded. One quick strike from Querehsha, and the future protagonist would be nothing more than a corpse at his feet. No Nano Machine. No rise to power. No threat.
But then—
'Wasted potential is a sin in the martial world.'
The old adage whispered through his mind. Muyeon had spent his entire second life clawing for strength, for advantage. And here was Yeo Woon, fighting off trained assassins with nothing but raw instinct and sheer stubbornness.
If he had this much willpower without the Nano Machine... what could he become with proper training?
"In the original plot, he was only dangerous because of the Nano Machine. Without it..."
Muyeon's jaw clenched.
Without it, Yeo Woon was just another talented orphan.
And orphans, when properly guided, made the most loyal weapons.
A soft, amused sound came from beside him.
"This insect fights better untrained than my soldier larvae after ten molts."
Muyeon glanced at Querehsha, surprised. Her crimson eyes were fixed on Yeo Woon, her lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile—more like a predator observing an unexpectedly interesting prey.
"He's got the survival instincts of a roach," she mused, tilting her head as Yeo Woon ducked under another blade, countering with a brutal elbow to the assassin's throat. "Crushing that kind of spirit seems... wasteful."
A pause. Then, with deliberate indifference:
"Of course, he's still just an ant." She muttered, turning to Muyeon. "Should I kill him now? Or would you like to do the honors?
Muyeon stared at her, not answering just yet.
That was the closest thing to praise he'd ever heard from the Plague Monarch.
And it was directed at Yeo Woon.
His half-brother, who was currently bleeding from at least three major wounds, yet still standing. Still fighting.
Muyeon exhaled sharply, his mind racing.
If Querehsha of all people saw something worth sparing in Yeo Woon...
Maybe killing him was the wrong move.
But if not death—then what?
Muyeon's fingers twitched as he watched Yeo Woon barely dodge another killing strike. The assassins were closing in, their movements growing more coordinated. His half-brother wouldn't last much longer.
"Do you have something to control him?" Muyeon asked abruptly, his voice low.
Querehsha's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "How delightfully ruthless of you."
"Just answer the question," Muyeon sighed.
With a theatrical flourish, Querehsha materialized a small, crystalline beetle atop her fingertip. It was no larger than a grain of rice, its carapace shimmering between translucent and an eerie, iridescent blue under the moonlight. The creature skittered along her pale finger, its tiny legs clicking against her skin.
"A little creation of mine," she said, her lips curling into a smirk. "Monarch-tier biology. Useless against those with trained inner energy(Ki), but perfect for... unrefined specimens like him."
Muyeon eyed the beetle warily. "How does it work?"
Querehsha balanced the creature on her fingertip, watching it flex its wings. "It bonds with the host's cardiovascular system—but only if there's no Ki to interfere with the initial process. Your brother is weak, untrained. His body is empty of energy. The beetle will take root seamlessly, with no resistance, no risk of detection."
She paused, her gaze locking onto Muyeon. "But you must be the one to place it inside him. Otherwise, the control functions won't recognize your Ki signature."
Querehsha tapped her chest with one clawed finger. "Once implanted, it nestles in the heart's left ventricle." She gestured to one of the dead assassins nearby. "Watch."
With a subtle flick of her wrist, one of the assassin corpses slid toward them, unnoticed by Yeo Woon and his attackers. As the body settled at their feet, the crystalline beetle shot from her palm and burrowed into its chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—
*BOOM.*
The assassin's torso erupted in a grotesque spray of blackened viscera, the force of the explosion sending chunks of flesh splattering against the nearby trees. The beetle, unharmed, skittered back to Querehsha's hand, its carapace now stained red.
"A single thought from you," she said, wiping the blood off on her sleeve, "and his heart becomes shrapnel."
"But the real beauty is in the subtleties," Querehsha continued, rolling the beetle between her fingers. "When he even thinks of betrayal, you'll know."
She reached out and tapped Muyeon's wrist. "You'll feel it here—a subtle itch, like a spider crawling under your skin. A warning before the treachery takes root."
"But my favorite function?" Querehsha's smile turned predatory. "The slow rewrite."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Weekly Ki synchronization. Every time you channel your energy into the beetle, it rewires his neural pathways. Five percent more suggestible per month."
Her crimson eyes gleamed. "After twenty months? One hundred percent fusion. The beetle becomes one with his very soul. No extraction, no reversal—not even I could remove it then. He'll be your loyal servant... eternally."
"That sounds far too good to be true…" Muyeon muttered. "What if he detects it?"
"It's Invisible to all scans below Monarch-level," Querehsha assured him, letting the beetle crawl up her arm. "And if exposed to air for more than thirty seconds before implantation?" She blew gently on the creature, and it dissolved into harmless blue dust. "Poof. Gone."
"During the first twenty months, extraction is theoretically possible," she admitted, "but only by myself, or possibly another Monarch. Or a divine-tier surgeon." She scoffed. "Neither of which exists in this pathetically weak world."
Muyeon stared at the new beetle she produced, then at Yeo Woon—now on his knees, barely fending off the remaining assassins. A weapon. A perfectly loyal weapon. All he had to do was reach out and take it.
"Give it to me," he said, extending his palm.
Querehsha's smirk widened as she dropped the crystalline creature into his hand. It was colder than he expected, its tiny legs prickling against his skin like needles of ice.
"One last thing," she murmured. "The implantation must be done while he's unconscious. And you'll need to speak the activation phrase as you channel your Ki into it."
"Which is?"
Querehsha's lips curled.
"Kneel."
Muyeon stared at the beetle, then at Yeo Woon—now on his knees, no longer able to fight back.
A weapon. A loyal weapon.
All he had to do was reach out and take it.
A split second later, the leading assassin's spear tip flashed silver in the moonlight as it punched through Yeo Woon's shoulder, pinning him to the damp earth. A wet gasp escaped his lips, his remaining strength bleeding out with the dark stain spreading across his robes. Another assassin loomed over him, raising his blade for the final strike—
"Decide now, little admin."
Querehsha's voice cut through the night like a scalpel, her breath warm against Muyeon's ear. The crystalline beetle pulsed cold in his palm.
Pros:
Elite Subordinate: Yeo Woon's raw talent was undeniable. With proper training, he could become a blade sharper than any in the Dark Clan.
Redirectable Hatred: Lady Mu had used the Poison Clan's signature venom to kill Yeo Woon's mother. The perfect scapegoat. "They murdered your mother," Muyeon could whisper. "Let me help you burn them to the ground."
Cons:
Unpredictability: Even with the parasite, Yeo Woon remained himself—stubborn, relentless. At least for the first twenty months, while the beetle worked its slow corruption. After that? The risk vanished. He'd become Muyeon's most loyal subordinate, body and soul.
Maintenance: Weekly Ki syncs. Constant monitoring.
Resources: Trivial. Between the Dark Clan's treasury and Querehsha's herbs, costs meant nothing.
The assassin's blade descended—
Muyeon moved.
"Without the Nano Machine..." His hand closed around the beetle. "...he's just another talented orphan."
And orphans, when given purpose, became the most loyal hounds.
"Save him."
The moment Muyeon gave the order, Querehsha's fingers twitched—a nearly imperceptible motion. A faint green mist shimmered in the air for just an instant before dissolving.
The remaining assassins froze mid-step.
Muyeon watched, fascinated, as black veins spiderwebbed across their exposed skin. Their weapons slipped from nerveless fingers, clattering against stone. Not a single death rattle escaped their lips as they collapsed, their bodies shriveling like grapes left too long in the sun. The stench of rotting fruit filled the clearing.
Yeo Woon's eyelids grew heavy as he collapsed, his final glimpse a blur of his assassins' writhing demise—then two silhouettes emerging from the forest edge like specters from the gloom. Darkness swallowed him before he could understand.
"Efficient," Muyeon remarked.
Querehsha merely wiped her hands on her robes. "A child's trick. Now hurry—your brother won't stay unconscious forever."
Muyeon knelt beside Yeo Woon's limp form. Up close, the damage was worse than he'd thought—three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and that gruesome spear wound still weeping sluggishly. He pressed two fingers to Yeo Woon's neck, checking his pulse.
"He's still alive… for now, at least…"
"You'll need to say the words as you push your Ki into it," Querehsha reminded him. "The beetle will help keep him alive once it settles in…'
The beetle stirred as Muyeon channeled his Ki. Blue light pulsed through its translucent carapace, tiny legs twitching eagerly. He brought it to Yeo Woon's chest.
"Kneel."
The parasite scuttled into his chest with unnatural speed, burrowing into his body. Yeo Woon jerked once—a full-body spasm—then stilled.
Almost immediately, the bleeding slowed. The punctured lung reinflated with an audible pop. Color returned to Yeo Woon's ashen cheeks.
"Told you," Querehsha said, examining her nails. "The beetle repairs critical damage to preserve its host. Convenient, no?"
A sharp ping reverberated through Muyeon's meridians. His vision blurred momentarily—when it cleared, Yeo Woon's body glowed with a faint blue outline, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. The parasite's presence thrummed at the edge of his awareness, a new limb he hadn't known he possessed.
"It worked."
Querehsha smirked. "Obviously."
————
In the dead of night, after leaving some gifts for Yeo Woon's awakening and dismissing Querehsha back to her universe with a promise of payment by morning, Muyeon finally returned home. A deep satisfaction warmed his bones as he crossed the threshold.
'Today was... remarkably productive.'
He shed his clothes and collapsed into bed. Just as his head hit the pillow, a holographic screen blazed to life before his bleary eyes.
[00:00:02... 00:00:01...]
[System Upgrade Complete.]
[Lvl. 2 Acquired!]
[Searching for new member… (Standby)]
A/N: 2413 words :)
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