Trials of the Multiverse

"Your client for this mission is a man named Libert Mulling, Thorn Princess..."

I found myself utterly unfamiliar with the person I had to kill, but that didn't matter. He was nothing more than a stain on the Libert Family name, described a wretched existence society deemed the embodiment of disgrace. And rightly so, for he harbored clandestine plans to betray our very nation.

I didn't need to know more about him as I prepared for the very same night to kill him.

Since it was all his own doing, his family has to not be touched.

That won't be a problem.

From the several reports we had, Libert Mulling was a pampered fool, who never touched a weapon in his cushy life.

Taking out a guy like that should be a walk in the park.

But as a seasoned veteran, I wouldn't make the grave mistake of underestimating my target, no matter how easy my job seemed– a truth ingrained in my very being.

---

Under the ethereal glow of the moon, I silently infiltrated his residence, pinpointing his room according with the reports.

However, as I slid the window open, a disconcerting sight awaited me.

"...You are here, welcome to my humble home."

Seated nonchalantly on a chair, a man in his twenties acknowledged my presence as if it were a casual afternoon, not the dead of night. His gaze remained fixed forward, indifferent to the intrusion.

He was unmistakably my target – crimson eyes, ebony hair, and the right age; he checked all the boxes.

A jolt of surprise coursed through me – how could he have anticipated my arrival?

Before I could voice my confusion, he preemptively silenced me.

"Before you start asking, don't bother, Thorn Princess. You will not get any answers out of me."

Silent in response, I pondered the implications. The underworld might recognize me, but this man hadn't spared me a single glance. He knew, not just of the impending assassin but the very identity of the one dispatched.

Was there a traitor within our ranks, leaking information? A momentary doubt flickered before I dismissed it;

Now, whatever reason he had to know mattered little.

"Pardon my intrusion, Libert Mulling-sama--"

Before I could finish, the man sitting on the chair disappeared as I felt a sudden chill down my spine.

I could feel...danger!

"You have taken it too many times, Thorn Princess. I will not let you take it again."

From behind.

Instinctively, I lunged to cut his throat, my blade flashing with lethal intent. Yet, to my astonishment, he evaded with minimal effort.

"Give up. You cannot defeat me."

Being in close quarters now, his face came into sharp focus. The hollowness in his crimson eyes struck me, as if staring into the abyss of a lifeless vessel.

For some reason, it didn't feel like this was the man I came here to kill.

Reports claimed he was untrained? Utter nonsense. Our organization's intel had gravely misled me.

Retreat should have been a logical choice, preserving the crucial importance of accurate information. Yet, I pressed on, driven by the unwavering commitment to my mission.

His words fell on deaf ears as I unleashed every tactic at my disposal, determined to corner him. However, every effort proved futile.

His bare-handed mastery outmatched me. It felt like an unsettling dance where he effortlessly predicted my every step.

Adding to the humiliation, I spotted a sheathed sword on the desk where he had sat earlier – a weapon left untouched. He didn't deign to confront me properly, since he didn't need it to confront me.

I was never treated like that for as long as I can remember.

"...I cannot give up, Libert Mulling-sama. My mission is to kill you. If I cannot do that, the only other choice I have is to die by your sword"

That was my creed, what I believed since I was very little.

If I could have the arrogance of claiming people's lives, then it was perfectly fair for the other party to claim my life as well.

"...I see"

He pondered for a fleeting moment before aligning with my philosophy. Retrieving the sword from the desk, he unsheathed it.

I took a deep breath. To be honest, this was the first time I felt so close to death.

Regrets flickered briefly – the unexplored emotions surrounding my 'marriage,' both as a wife, and as a mother. Yet, the unfolding battle allowed no room for contemplation.

With unwavering resolve, our weapons finally met in a resounding clash that echoed through the room, a symphony of steel meeting steel. Moonlight filtered through the open window, casting eerie shadows.

The initial exchanges were a whirlwind of precision and speed, each movement I calculated to gain an upper hand. But despite my seasoned skills, he effortlessly turned the tide against me. His movements were fluid, almost dance-like. 

In the blink of an eye, the momentum changed. Since I was already on the losing end, I could not bear his strength anymore as one strike from him left me stumbling backward, the taste of blood staining my lips.

The cold touch of the floor met my hands as I found myself on the ground, disoriented and vulnerable. The metallic scent of my own blood mingled with the musty air of the room.

He closed in with silent footsteps.

The moonlight traced the edge of the blade as he pointed it at my neck.

"...Please kill me."

With the expectation of impending death, I shut my eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

Yet, nothing transpired, even as moments lingered.

Reluctantly opening my eyes, I found him still staring at me with an unwavering gaze. His expression, an impenetrable mask, revealed no hint of emotion.

He uttered, almost growling

"Admit defeat, and I will kill you"

...?

I was quite confused. Does he want me to say I lost?

"I, uh...I lost"

I said so in an uncertain tone, and for the first time, his expression changed

"Good."

Silence hung in the air, and I braced myself once more for the embrace of death.

Instead, a sudden sting, unexpected and sharp, reverberated across my cheek.

Followed by another.

And another.

He... slapped me exactly 12 times.

...Why?

That hurts....

"Today, I will let you go. Consider the slaps as my own retribution for the attempt on my life. Here's a piece of advice: try this assassination attempt from tomorrow; I can guarantee its success by then."

A flood of questions swirled within my mind, as I had to massage my cheeks since they hurt quite badly...

if the target didn't wish for my death, that was awkward, but it's not my fault. It's not like we could argue about that or something...right?

Thus, I retreated using the same window I came from.

Facing the Shopkeeper would be a challenge. Where does one even begin to explain what just happened?

---

Author's Note:

FYO: We will go down what happened in all the loops in the next chapter, and in 2-3 chapters, we will begin with the second trial.