Night of a Hundred Killings (Continued)

"Within the entire Slane Theocracy, there was only one person worth paying attention to." The shadowy figure recalled what that person had told him.

"Only the unofficial seat of the Black Scripture—"

If that person were deployed, could that demon truly be defeated?

"Then... I'll be the one... to kill him..."

The shadowy figure muttered softly.

"Kill... assassinate..."

That was right. There was no need to attack head-on. As long as the target could be killed, the method did not matter.

Assassination was the most efficient and cost-effective approach.

"Assassination... assassin... Assassin..."

To carry out an assassination, he had to use the power of an assassin. And when it came to assassins, one particular figure naturally came to mind.

The etymology of "assassin" was the white-skulled assassin. Originating in the Middle East, he was the leader of the Order of Assassins—the "Old Man of the Mountain," Hassan Sabbah.

The shadowy figure removed the purple-black robe draped over his body, revealing himself beneath it.

His body was made of a nauseating substance condensed from pure darkness. Those shadows formed his flesh, constantly writhing without pause.

Human faces would occasionally emerge upon the surface of his skin. Without exception, they were grotesquely twisted visages, as though they were reaching out from hell with wails of anguish.

Since being created in this world, he had devoured no fewer than a hundred people. Their flesh and souls had been imprisoned within those twisted shadows, suffering torment for all eternity.

"Go... follow your instincts... go and kill..."

The shadowy figure howled in a low voice. At the same time, his body "collapsed."

Cracks opened across his body one after another, and black sludge poured out from them, like pus flowing from the body of someone suffering from a severe infection.

The black sludge dripped onto