Aiden stood with an almost serene expression on his face, his eyes calm as they tracked the assassins darting from tree to tree around him. He did not move; he remained utterly still, his posture relaxed and collected, a silent sentinel waiting for them to strike. There was no tension in his body, no hint of fear or haste, he simply observed, patiently, as if the passage of time itself had slowed to accommodate this lethal theater of predators.

A silver sword hung idly at his waist, Aiden's silence was deliberate, a part of the intricate psychological game he was weaving. The assassins moved with the precision and fluidity of dancers, each leap from branch to branch choreographed with deadly intent, unaware that they were already within the web of a predator far more skilled than themselves. And then, as if on cue, the first assassin finally made her move.

She lunged toward Aiden with a velocity so rapid it left a ghostly afterimage trailing in her wake, a blur that seemed almost supernatural in its swiftness. Yet the moment she reached striking distance, her momentum faltered. For an instant, she hung there midair, her form frozen in anticipation, or perhaps realization, before her body split perfectly in two.

The top half collapsed to the right, the lower half to the left, blood pooling beneath Aiden's boot. The scene was gruesome, yet Aiden did not flinch. Not a muscle twitched, not even a glance was cast toward the lifeless form on the forest floor.

He remained unmoved, a pillar of unshakable calm. The assassins, for all their training and coordination, had not witnessed how effortlessly he had dispatched their comrade. One moment she moved, the next she lay dead, and the gap between those moments was so narrow it seemed almost nonexistent.

"It seems none of you wish to move," Aiden finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate, carrying a subtle note of weariness at the unbroken silence.

"Were you not the ones who attacked us?" he continued, still calm, hands clasped behind his back as though he were a master observing mere students. "Why, then, do you suddenly pause as if admiring me?"

He allowed a slight pause, letting his words settle before continuing with deliberate composure. "Since the beginning of this journey, my teammates have been the ones to enjoy the thrill of the mission. Now, it is my turn. And since we both know that only one side will leave this place alive, why not end this swiftly… shall we?"

The assassins remained frozen, unmoving, as if unable to speak. A small, almost imperceptible smile spread across Aiden's lips. "If you will not come to me, then I shall come to you," he added, voice calm, final, irrevocable.

The assassins braced themselves, forming barriers and deploying Astra-forged shields, yet even as they prepared, a gentle gust of wind swept the forest. The next moment, Aiden was directly before them, his palms extended in a casual gesture, almost inviting, yet dripping with lethal intent.

Death screamed in the ears of those who had underestimated him. None dared strike; instead, they relied on their shields and barriers as they leapt backward with blurring speed, desperate to escape. But it was futile.

Twenty wind slashes erupted from each of Aiden's palms, slamming into the Astra-forged barriers with the relentless force of a natural catastrophe. Some barriers shattered instantly, leaving those behind them reduced to little more than shredded remnants of flesh. Others barely held, blood already seeping through their cracks, a testament to the overwhelming power behind Aiden's control of wind.

Aiden possessed the ability to manipulate wind, bending it to his will and thought as effortlessly as one might move a hand. Though a master swordsman, he preferred to wield the wind in combat, reveling in the destructive artistry it allowed. Furthermore, his extraordinary reservoir of Astra energy, vastly exceeding that of ordinary combatants, permitted him to indulge in this preference without restraint.

It was precisely because of this overwhelming energy that Norman had entrusted him with the responsibility of controlling the Enduron horses that pulled their carriage. Were it otherwise, Aiden would have eagerly slaughtered every adversary in his path personally. Norman had no choice but to make this arrangement, knowing full well the danger of attempting to restrain a man with such prodigious Astra energy.

The assassins' eyes darted frantically, searching for his presence, yet Aiden had already shifted. He seemed to move without sound, almost without mass, a whisper carried on the wind.

"I am up here, if you are looking for me," came Aiden's voice, calm and deliberate. His hands remained clasped behind his back, the epitome of serene control. "Is this not a bit tedious? I am sure you must agree…" he added, levitating effortlessly above the forest floor, defying gravity as the wind cradled him.

Astra energy pulsed visibly through his Astra veins, and with a subtle gesture of his left hand, every assassin was blurred backward, learning again the price of underestimating him. Aiden said nothing, his eyes fixed on the small wind cyclone forming above his palm. It spun quietly at first, gentle and unassuming, yet its potential was unmistakable.

His white eyes swept over the remaining assassins below, and then, with a simple inversion of his palm toward the earth, Astra energy surged. The cyclone expanded rapidly, transforming into a colossal, maddening vortex spanning over two hundred meters. Yet this was no ordinary cyclone, every gust of wind within it was a razor-sharp blade, slicing through anything caught within its sphere.

Within moments, every assassin within its reach was subjected to merciless destruction. Flesh and bone were reduced to bloodied remnants, minced beyond recognition, leaving nothing but the remnants of bodies in the cyclone's wake. The cyclone then exploded outward, sending waves of slicing wind blades tearing through anything beyond the initial radius, leaving an even larger trail of devastation.

Those who had initially thought themselves safe beyond the two-hundred-meter range found themselves fighting desperately for survival, as wind blades, seemingly infinite in number, rained down upon them from every direction.

The forest, once vibrant and teeming with life, had become a macabre tableau of devastation. Over a two-hundred-and-fifty-meter radius, trees, flora, and fauna were obliterated, reduced to mere shreds and splinters, a testament to Aiden's unparalleled mastery over wind.

The remaining assassins looked up at him, floating above them with an almost casual smile, the man who had erased an entire landscape with a mere gesture of his hand. They had not yet even launch any attack themselves, their fear and awe leaving them paralyzed.

And the worst part? They had failed to seize the opportunity when he had initially instructed them to strike.

"It seems some of you are still alive," Aiden's voice rang out, calm yet menacing, Astra energy pouring from him unchecked as he prepared yet another devastating attack. No thought was given to conservation; his energy reserves were immense, nearly limitless... to him at least, allowing him to wield destruction as easily as one might breathe.

The forest trembled beneath the sheer force of his presence, the air itself seeming to bend and warp under the weight of his power and control as he prepared another ridiculous attack.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: We need those golden tickets. We are ranked in the forties of the golden ticket ranking. Thanks for reading.

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