Three men are walking home late at night through the streets. “It’s getting late. We should hurry a little. Lately there have been more of those assassins who kill in the pure darkness.” One of them said to the other two. “Like that so called MakenZero? Whether he exist or not, we’ll crush the rebellion soon.” The heavy-set man replied. “Now, now, let’s not talk shop when we’ve got reason to celebrate. Aren’t you getting married next month?” The old man nudged the youngest. “That’s right,” the man was about twenty years younger then the other two. The old man continued on, “Marrying your beautiful childhood sweetheart, you lucky dog you.” “Thank you.”

Soft footsteps come from behind them without them knowing. “But I can’t help worrying. In these trouble times, why should I--,” the young man was cut off by the older one. “What are you talking about?” An intense gaze follows their every move. “In this world, everyone’s trying to find a little happiness. If anything, if we make a new age in this work of ours, that’s the form it should take. The old man smiled. The man walks out of an alleyway in front of them. “You must be Juba Troup. Though I bear you no grudge, for the sake of the new era, I must have your deaths.” A young cold looking boy is standing before the three men. He was speaking to the oldest one.

“Who are you?” The heavy-set man screamed as he put his hand on his weapon wanting his question answered. “I am MakenZero the assassin in the shadow of the dark, both are the same.” They all reach for their weapons most likely swords. MakenZero took his sheath out of his belt hold poking the heavy-set guy that was charging towards him in the left eye. In the very same process, he pulled out his sword leaping a bit in the air striking down cutting into the man’s chest. The blood squirted out as Maken pulled the sword out so fast that it spins the man to his death before he could even pull out his weapon.

The old man known as Juba pushed the young man away, “Run!” You cannot die here--,” “But Mr. Juba!?” The young man’s eyes went wide; Juba was already dead. MakenZero stood only two feet away from the old man. However MakenZero’s sword was through the bottom part of the mouth vertically going through to the top of Juba’s head. The old man mouth was pouring out blood. MakenZero pulled back splitting the old man’s face apart getting his sword free.

“Mr. Juba!” The young man screamed as he got his sword up able to block MakenZero’s attack, but is driven back against the wall, MakenZero’s bloody sword just inches away from his throat. “Give up,” MakenZero spoke clearly. The young man thinking, “I won’t die. I don’t want to die, why should I have die here!?” They begin to fight, trading blow for blow. In the fifteen years between amidst all these ambitions and ideals, those who carried weapons were split into two. Causing the war they were now in.

With a battle cry the young man charges. MakenZero swoops in at him and his blow strikes the young man who collapses in a pool of blood. His sword lightly grazes MakenZero’s cheek in a long, thin vertical line. MakenZero touches his cheek and looks at his own blood in amazement—it’s the first time he has been touched. Behind him the young man groans. “I. No. I don’t want to die. I was. Finally going to. I was to marry her very soon. I’ve always. Loved her.” MakenZero walks over to him putting his sword through the back of his neck with the tip of it coming through his throat twisting giving the final blow.

Two men come out of the alleyway where MakenZero came from. “We’ve come to see.” MakenZero nodded to them, “Inspectors. Good work.” “Your cheek,” the man said looking at him. “It’s nothing.” “But he reached your face with a sword he must have been very good.” “No. His skill itself was nothing. But his will to live was incredible. I’ll leave the rest to you.” MakenZero starts to walk off, but then looks back at the young man lying dead in his own pool of blood, “May you find happiness in the next world.” The inspector looked at him. “You say something?” “No nothing.” The men leave papers with “Heaven’s Justice” written on them with the bodies. The inspectors talk among themselves. “Will to live, huh? I guess a first-class assassin like him can tell that just by crossing his sword in battle with someone.” The other agreed but added, ‘Maybe he could tell that, but he killed them all without even blinking. He really is that MakenZero guy.”