Crash.
Max hit the ground with a sickening thud, pain jolting through his body like a shockwave. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and for a moment, all he could do was lie there, dazed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
“Ugh…” A groan escaped his lips as he forced himself upright, his limbs sluggish from the fall. His knees wobbled beneath him, unsteady, the sensation of freefall still lingering in his bones. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, but there was nothing to adjust to.
The world around him was empty.
Pitch black.
No walls. No floor. No ceiling. Just an endless abyss of darkness stretching in every direction. It was suffocating—thick, heavy, pressing in on him from all sides like a living entity. His own breath sounded deafening in the silence, his heartbeat a steady drum against his ribs.
Max flexed his fingers, his senses on high alert. The air was stale, void of any scent or movement. No wind, no shifting of space, just absolute stillness. He reached down, feeling the ground beneath him. Cold. Solid. Stone, maybe? But it was impossible to tell with no light to guide him.
“Ahh, finally! Someone with the good sense…or utter lack of it… to stumble into my humble abode!
Now, before you go screaming about demons and curses, let’s get one thing perfectly clear—I may be dead, but I’m not gone. No, no, no. That would be boring. And I do so despise boredom.
So, tell me, dear trespasser, what exactly brings you down here? Treasure? Power? Or just an unfortunate misstep in the dark? Hmm, let me guess—fate led you here. Ah, fate! Always dragging poor, unsuspecting fools into the most deliciously terrible predicaments.”
“I’m here for…”
Max hesitated, the weight of his words pressing against his throat. Should he lie? Say he had stumbled in by accident, feign ignorance, and hope to slip away unscathed? Or should he tell the truth—the real reason he had sought out this forgotten tomb?
He exhaled. Lying wouldn’t work. Not with him.
Straightening his back, Max spoke, his voice steady despite the tension tightening his chest.
"Noctyros. I’m here for your manual and your sigil."
The darkness did not respond.
For a moment, nothing. The cold weight of the underground pressing in around him.
Then—laughter.
Not loud. Not booming. But deep, curling at the edges with something ancient and amused. The air itself seemed to shift, as though the shadows breathed.
“Ahh, bold, are we? Confidence! How refreshing! Or maybe just foolish—I do so love when the two blur together.
So, you seek my manual and my sigil? Tsk, tsk. You march into my tomb, call upon a forgotten name, and demand my legacy as if it were some bauble waiting to be claimed.
Tell me, what makes you think you are worthy of what I once was? Of what I still am?”
“I am because I found your tomb,” Max said, his voice firm despite the cold weight pressing down on him. He could feel it now—Noctyros' presence. A formless thing, vast as the night itself, lurking in the unseen corners of this forgotten crypt.
Silence.
Max continued.
“It has been thirty years since your disappearance and unknown death,” he said, his words cutting through the emptiness like a blade. “The world has moved on. Your name has faded from history, your legacy buried beneath newer heroes and louder stories.”
The air stirred. A shift. Not of wind, but of something older—something watching.
Max inhaled, steadying himself. He knew who Noctyros was. A hero built not on glory, but on sacrifice. A man who had done the impossible time and time again, only to be cast aside when he was no longer needed.
“But I don’t think you care if I’m worthy or not,” Max said, his voice unwavering. “Because if you did, this tomb would have had a trial. A test. A guardian to keep me out.”
Max didn’t flinch. The weight of Noctyros’ presence bore down on him, pressing against his skin like unseen hands.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Because you want me to.”
Silence. A stillness deeper than death itself.
Then—movement. Not physical, not tangible, but a shift in the very air, as if the crypt itself exhaled.
"Hah… clever again." Noctyros’ voice curled around the edges of the darkness, thoughtful now, considering. "You see what others would miss. Good."
The formless presence loomed, vast and unseen.
"I was cast aside. Forgotten. The world did not mourn me—it replaced me. New heroes, new legends. And yet, here you stand, speaking my name when no one else remembers. Asking for my sigil, not to honor me, but to carry what I once was. To change what I could not."
Another shift, a slow, inevitable unraveling.
"Very well."
The air crackled. Something unseen coiled around Max’s outstretched hand, ancient and heavy. Cold, searing, alive.
"Take it. Take what remains of Noctyros. And when you walk from this tomb, know this—"
The darkness trembled.
"I will not speak to you again. This is my last gift, my last mark upon the world. Use it well… or become as forgotten as I was."
The sigil burned into Max’s palm, and the voice of Noctyros faded, swallowed by the silence he had left behind.
Torches came ablaze all around the room.
There was a black statue in the center of the room, Noctyros the infamous trickster and assassin dressed in his gear stood in stance.
Max looked at his palm and saw nothing, the sigil left no mark.
Max checked his stats.
Name: Maximus Augustus
Rank: F
Strength: F
Agility: G
Stamina: F
Mana Capacity: G+
Intelligence: G
Luck: E
Charm: E
Profession: Assassin/Swordsman
Manual: 5-Star Nightstalker - Created by Noctyros, the 5-Star Nightstalker focuses on speed, deception, and precision—killing from the shadows before engaging in direct combat. Every movement is calculated, every strike aimed at a vital point.
Max's smile deepened as he stood there, feeling the weight of what he had just secured. One of the most powerful manuals in the world of assassins—and it was his now.
His fingers flexed, feeling the tingling sensation of the sigil, despite it not being visible. Endless potential. That phrase kept repeating in his mind, like the hum of a siren calling him forward. The power was in his hands now, a dangerous, slippery thing that could evolve and adapt, all depending on how he wielded it.
But it wasn’t just about the power.
The sigil’s true gift wasn’t its immediate effects—it was what came after. A promise of growth, limitless potential. The kind that could make him stronger than even the most legendary heroes of this world, the kind that could lead him to unimaginable heights.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Max couldn’t help but smirk again. He had heard about it.
Noctyros.
The assassin who lived only in the shadows, literally and metaphorically. A character introduced after the main story ended, in a side-story that was only mentioned in passing. The author had crafted Noctyros as an afterthought, something for the die-hard fans, a hidden jewel in the corners of a forgotten tale. A figure so powerful that it was almost laughable. But Max knew better than anyone.
Max had read every scrap of information the author had ever put out. Every tweet, every post, every interview, and every unlisted reference buried deep in side stories and commentary. He was a fanatic in the truest sense of the word, and this story, these heroes, were a world he knew inside and out. So when the author mentioned, almost as an afterthought, how Noctyros' sigil worked? He paid close attention.
Max’s eyes drifted over the tomb’s interior, the stone walls bathed in an eerie glow that only seemed to accentuate the quiet desolation. He’d combed through every corner, every crack, but nothing had been left behind. No treasure, no hidden weapons, nothing that could aid him further. The tomb seemed almost intentionally bare, as if someone had purposefully erased its secrets, or perhaps, it was never meant to be found in the first place.
Frustration gnawed at him, but it wasn’t something he would show. Instead, he turned his gaze to the statue standing tall in the middle of the room.
Max approached slowly, every step deliberate. The air in the tomb was thick with age, the weight of forgotten centuries pressing in on him. As he drew closer to the statue, he noticed something faintly etched into the base—words so faded they were almost indiscernible at first.
He crouched down, the dust beneath his fingers soft as he wiped away years of grime, until the words became legible:
"Forgotten Hero."
…
Max ascended the narrow, crumbling stairwell, his boots sinking into the moss that clung to the stone steps like a living thing. The air felt damp and heavy, thick with the smell of decay, while the faint hum of insects filled the silence. Each step brought him closer to the surface, yet the walls seemed to close in, whispering the history of the forgotten tomb.
At the top of the flight, a stone pedestal stood, aged and weathered by time. A button, worn smooth by countless years, sat at its center, almost inviting him to press it. Max hesitated only for a moment, knowing what it signified. His fingers brushed the stone, pressing it gently.
A deep rumble echoed through the tomb as the rock before him began to shift, grinding against its ancient frame. The earth seemed to groan in protest as the massive stone rolled aside, revealing the world beyond. The starlit sky greeted him, the distant glow of the moon casting shadows on the hilltop. Max's heart raced as he stepped into the fresh air, the weight of the tomb finally lifting from his shoulders.
He didn’t look back immediately. Instead, he took a moment to let the stillness of the night wash over him. The tomb, its secrets, its history—it was all locked away behind him now. The stone door slid back into place with a soft click, its surface blending seamlessly with the hillside, as though it had never been disturbed.
Max pulled out his phone, his fingers cold against the smooth surface of the screen. He swiped it to life, the map glowing brightly in the darkening air. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the blinking dot that marked his location.
“Where am I?”
He zoomed in on the map, finding the route to the nearest station. It wasn’t far—maybe a few miles from here. Max set the course and sighed, grateful for the simplicity of the task ahead. At least, for now, he didn’t have to think about what came next.
The forest around him felt almost... alive, but not in the way it should. The trees swayed, but there was no wind. The path ahead was shrouded in mist, a quiet, creeping fog rolling over the ground, making everything feel hazy. Max tightened his grip on his phone and started walking, keeping his steps steady and purposeful. His heart was still racing, but he wouldn’t let himself get lost in the panic. He had something he needed to do, and it was all he could focus on.
He pulled his jacket tighter against the growing chill, feeling the weight of the night settle in around him.
…
Max arrived at the station, the silence around him pressing in. There were no eyes on him, no one to care whether he was there or not. It was just him and the space, a quiet backdrop to his movements. He approached the bench beneath the overhead canopy, offering minimal shelter from the light drizzle that had started to fall.
He pulled out his ID, swiping it through the nearby machine. The screen flickered to life, showing a map of the area. It was simple, functional—nothing to grab attention. Max scanned through the stations, his eyes moving over the names until one caught his eye. The closest station to Nexus.
Max tapped it, the ticket printer buzzing to life. He grabbed the ticket, sliding it into his pocket.
…
Max stood by the platform, his eyes flicking between the rolling cityscape and the tracks ahead. The train rumbled into view, its headlights slicing through the evening haze like a predator stalking its prey. It screeched slightly as it came to a halt, the doors opening with a soft hiss, almost as if inviting him inside.
Without a second thought, Max stepped forward and walked through the threshold, his footsteps light on the metal floor as he chose a seat by the window. The train jerked once, then smoothly began its descent back into the city
‘Pretty successful day…’ Max thought, leaning back in his seat. ‘I think I’m getting a little comfortable with this world too. Just a little.’
Max looked out the window as the rain fell in a steady rhythm, each drop streaking across the glass like thin veins. The city lights flickered to life as the train rumbled through, a cascade of colors spilling across the wet streets. The buildings around him seemed to glow, their edges softened by the misty air, as if the whole city was wrapped in a thin veil of light.
The contrast between the slick, rain-soaked roads and the sharp, artificial brilliance of the lights was almost surreal. Streetlights painted pools of gold on the wet pavement, and the headlights of passing cars created trailing ribbons of light that stretched out into the distance.
…
The train pulled into the station with a quiet screech of metal against metal, and Max stepped off, his boots hitting the wet pavement with a soft thud. He could feel the cool air seeping through his jacket as he pulled it tighter around himself, the rain misting down on the street.
This time, Max decided to challenge himself. No map. No shortcuts. He’d find his way back to Nexus on his own terms. The thought of it gave him a small sense of purpose.
The streets were nearly empty, the wet pavement gleaming under the flickering city lights. A few people scurried past, heads down, their umbrellas mostly useless against the sideways rain.
It wasn’t much of a challenge in the end—Nexus was so massive it loomed over every corner of the city, its towering spires visible no matter where you stood. But the feeling of taking the long way was enough. The little victories mattered to him.
By the time Max reached the gates of Nexus, the rain had softened into a steady drizzle. The large iron gates creaked open, the usual hum of activity nowhere to be found. The outside of the school was empty, no students or faculty lingering outside in the rain.
‘Everyone must be inside,’ Max mused. ‘Makes it easier for me.’
He moved through the campus, not in a hurry but not taking his time either, just gliding through the shadows of the walkways, the rain pattering on the stone pathways. His footsteps were quiet, careful—he didn’t want anyone to notice him out here, especially with the late hour. Getting caught out in the rain wasn’t the kind of rumor he wanted circulating.
But as he walked, something caught his eye—a figure out in the rain. He squinted looking at the figure.
‘Oh shit… That’s Ophelia.’
Max’s heart skipped for a second as he recognized the girl standing alone in the rain. Test tubes were lined up neatly in front of her, droplets of water clinging to the glass, the rain blurring the air around her. She wasn’t just some student here—she was someone important. Someone who could be a problem if they crossed paths too soon.
Without thinking, Max speed-walked, almost slipping on the slick ground as he hurried toward the dorms. His movements were fast but calculated, every step designed to avoid drawing attention. It was the last thing he needed: anyone noticing him. He just wanted to slip by unnoticed.
Max made his way through the darkened courtyard and up the stairs to the dorm building, slipping inside with a quiet exhale of relief. He couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips as he glanced back at the empty, rain-soaked campus. For a second, it felt like the whole world had just frozen, every shadow too heavy with possibility.
‘That was close,’ Max thought, rubbing a hand through his wet hair.
Ophelia, the others—he’d keep his distance from them for now. If he was going to survive this place without stirring up anything unwanted, it was better to stay under the radar. The less they knew, the better.
He moved quickly through the halls of the dorm, the faint hum of the building his only company as he returned to his room.
Max sat down on his bed with a long stretch, his muscles protesting as he finally let his body relax. The tension he'd been carrying since arriving in this world seeped out of him, but it was quickly replaced by a dull, nagging sense of unease. He hadn’t fully adjusted yet, and something about this place still felt off.
With a huff, he pushed the thoughts away, and turned to his desk, grabbing his notebook and a pencil. The small creak of the chair echoed in the room as he flipped through the pages until he found a blank one, its emptiness waiting for his pen. He placed the pencil to the paper, its tip scratching against the surface, and began to write.
The plan.
Max paused for a moment, the pencil hovering above the page. This wasn't just any plan—this was his lifeline, his framework for navigating this chaotic, unfamiliar world.
He exhaled slowly, then wrote the first point.
1. Don’t mess up the storyline since the heroes won in the end.
That was non-negotiable. He didn’t care about getting involved in their battles or saving the world. His job was simple: stay out of the way. The heroes had done their part, and now it was his turn to be the unseen observer, the one who kept his head down. Messing with things was out of the question. He couldn't afford it. Not if he wanted to get out of here.
2. Try not to interact with the main characters unless necessary. Like a butterfly effect where one was going to die.
Max paused again, the pencil held just above the page. Interacting with them was dangerous, but sometimes, it was unavoidable. He couldn’t just sit back and let someone important get killed, because of a butterfly effect. The slightest misstep could throw everything off balance.
He scribbled the next point down quickly.
3.
Find a way back home.
The hardest part. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know how to even begin looking. But this was the one thing that kept him going—he had to find a way back. A way out of this world that wasn’t his.
He let the pencil hover for a second longer before finishing the last point.
4. Live long enough to figure that out.
Max smirked at the simplicity of the last line. That was the bottom line, wasn’t it? He wasn’t stupid. He knew he needed to survive first, and everything else would come after. Survival was the key. No matter how long it took to find his way back, he had to stay alive to do so.
He set the pencil down on the desk with a soft tap. The plan was simple, but it was enough. It was all he needed. Keeping things straightforward would make it easier to navigate, easier to survive.
Max leaned back in his chair and stared at the list. There was nothing to do but wait. Because tomorrow was the first day of the Academy. He wasn’t going to rush things.