The man sat perfectly still, an unsettling calm radiating from him. He barely lifted his head when he turned to Number Two.
"How's the kid doing? The one you mentioned."
Number One shifted uncomfortably but couldn't help himself. "Master, sorry to cut in, but... what was that entity was here? The... 'Second Heaven of the Demonic Wings."
The man he called Master just looked at him for a moment, then turned away without answering.
Number Two straightened up, looking confident. "Out of all thousand prisoners we've got, that kid's got the best shot at making it through. Way better odds than any of the adults."
Number One frowned. "What makes you so sure?"
"At first glance, the boy looked fragile as hell. Like you could knock him over with a feather," Number Two started. "But when Number Eight went to grab him, everything flipped."
The Boss's eyes sharpened. He gestured for Number Two to keep talking.
"Number Eight swore he hit the kid's pressure point clean. Knocked him out cold, or so he thought. Should've been a simple snatch-and-grab. But that kid... he's not what he seems."
"What're you getting at?" Number One asked, still skeptical.
Number Two's mouth twisted into a slight grin. "The kid wasn't unconscious at all. He was faking it. And here's the kicker—before Number Eight even made his move, the boy already knew exactly where he'd step, which way he'd come from, how he'd attack. Everything."
Number One's eyebrows shot up. "Hold on. You're saying he couldn't physically keep up with Number Eight's speed, but he predicted every move?"
"Exactly." Number Two nodded. "Right before Number Eight rushed him, the kid glanced around in what looked like random directions. But those looks weren't random at all. He was reading the terrain, planning. A few seconds later, he stepped backward. Number Eight was already behind him, just like the kid expected. And even when he got hit, he didn't actually pass out. Just played the part of a helpless victim perfectly."
The Master leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping low. "What else did you find?"
"I got curious, so I checked out every spot the kid looked at before the attack," Number Two said, his tone getting more excited. "The first place he glanced at had this big rock that looked stable. But when I stepped on it, the damn thing was balanced on a half-circle hole. Any pressure at all would make it tip and throw you off balance."
Number One looked confused. "So?"
"The second spot was positioned exactly where someone would put their foot when trying to catch themselves from the first rock," Number Two continued. "Another loose stone, but this one tilted the opposite way. Step there while you're already off-balance? You're going down face-first."
The Master remained stone-faced. "And the third spot?"
Number Two let out a breath, his eyes narrowing. "The third one was brutal. Too brutal for an eight-year-old kid to think up."
Number One's patience snapped. "Just spit it out!"
"Sharp bones. Animal bones, driven into the ground at perfect angles," Number Two revealed. "Not random placement either. Those bones were positioned exactly where Number Eight's throat would hit when he fell forward from those rocks."
Dead silence filled the room.
Number One stared, stunned. "You're telling me... this kid calculated Number Eight's height, his fall path, and set up a death trap? All in seconds?"
"That's right," Number Two said firmly. "The spacing between the rocks and the bones was precise. The kid turned being weak into his strength. Couldn't overpower Number Eight, so he outsmarted him instead."
The Boss's cold eyes glinted with something that might've been interest. "And that rib bone you mentioned?"
Number Two's grin widened. "The kid had hidden an animal rib bone in his shirt, right at his neck. When Number Eight struck his pressure point, the bone took most of the impact. That's why he stayed conscious. He planned for that too."
Number One's face twisted in disbelief. "Are you seriously saying this boy turned the entire area into a weapon, predicted Number Eight's every move, and *let* himself get kidnapped?"
Number Two nodded slowly. "Yes. Every action we thought was ours—it was his. He orchestrated the whole damn thing."
The room went quiet except for the soft crackling of a fire somewhere. Number Two let out a brief, unsettling laugh.
"I completely missed what that boy was really up to," Number Two admitted, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "At first, I figured he was just trying not to get captured. But I was dead wrong." He paused, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "That kid *wanted* us to take him."
The Master's cold, cutting gaze locked onto Number Two. "Explain."
Number Two straightened up, still grinning. "Before Number Eight even got close, the boy had already set up the whole field. The last place he looked at was some animal skeleton. When I checked it out, I noticed eight ribs had been torn out. Seven of them were placed at his trap site."
Number One frowned. "What about the eighth one?"
Number Two's smirk got wider. "He had it hidden in his shirt. When Number Eight hit his neck, the kid used it like armor to absorb the blow. Made sure he wouldn't actually get knocked out. He knew exactly where the hit was coming."
Number One's jaw clenched. "You're saying he predicted not just the attack, but every single movement?"
"That's right," Number Two replied smoothly. "He read Number Eight's patterns, calculated his reach, his height, how hard he'd hit. Every step was planned out. And what's even crazier... he set up the whole thing so *we'd* think we outsmarted him. He played us into taking him, making sure he got exactly what he wanted."
The Master's expression stayed ice-cold, but there was a flicker of interest in his sharp eyes. "You're suggesting he wanted to be captured?"
"Absolutely, Master," Number Two said, his voice full of twisted admiration. "This wasn't just survival instinct. It was calculated. Every glance, every step, even his 'collapse' all part of his strategy. And the kid's only eight years old."
Number One leaned forward, still skeptical. "But why would he want to get taken?"
Number Two's smile widened, but he stayed silent, letting the question hang in the air.
The Master's voice, cold and deliberate, cut through the silence. "Because he knew what he'd find here. He saw us as an opportunity a way to get what he wants."
The weight of that realization settled over the room.
Number One hesitated before speaking. "Master, what should we do with him?"
The Master's gaze hardened.
Number Two jumped on the moment. "Master, can I suggest something? The boy hasn't gone through the Key Ceremony yet, but he's already shown more potential than any recruit we've ever had. If all eleven of us train him, he could become our ultimate weapon. He might even..." Number Two's voice dropped, almost reverent. "...surpass him."
"The one who swallowed the Star."
At those words, the Master's expression turned dark, his piercing eyes narrowing dangerously. A long, tense silence stretched out before he finally spoke.
"Didn't I tell you never to mention his name...?"