Slave of Fate

The Master, seated with an icy calm, lifted his head slightly and turned to No. 2. "How is he?" the child you spoke of

No. 1 hesitated but finally spoke, "Master, my apologies for interrupting, but may I ask why that entity was here? The... 'Second Heaven of the Demonic Wings.'"

but the master ignored the question. Instead,

No. 2 straightened, his face firm with confidence. "Out of the thousand captives, he has the highest probability of survival. Far higher than any of the adults."

No. 1 frowned, his expression blank but skeptical. "What makes you think that?"

"At first glance, he seemed fragile, someone who could collapse with a mere touch," No. 2 began. "But when No. 8 moved to abduct him, that boy turned the situation on its head."

The Master's gaze sharpened, and he motioned for No. 2 to continue.

"No. 8 claimed he struck the boy's vital point, rendering him unconscious. From his perspective, it was a straightforward capture. But the boy… wasn't as simple as he appeared."

"What are you implying?" No. 1 asked, his tone doubtful.

No. 2 smirked slightly. "The boy wasn't unconscious. He *pretended* to be. And what's more, before No. 8 even made his move, the boy knew exactly where he would step, what direction he would come from, and how he would attack."

No. 1 raised an eyebrow. "Wait, are you saying he couldn't physically follow No. 8's movements, but he predicted them?"

"Exactly," No. 2 said. "Before No. 8 rushed him, the boy glanced around in seemingly random directions. But those glances weren't random at all. He was analyzing the terrain. Moments later, he moved backward. No. 8, as expected, was already behind him. And yet, despite being struck, the boy didn't lose consciousness. He acted the part of a helpless victim to perfection."

The Master leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "And what did you discover?"

"In my curiosity, I investigated the spots the boy glanced at before No. 8's attack," No. 2 said, his tone growing more intense. "The first spot he looked at had a large, seemingly balanced stone. But when I stepped on it, I realized it was precariously balanced over a half-circle hole. The slightest pressure would cause it to tilt, throwing anyone off balance."

No. 1 frowned. "So what?"

"The second spot was positioned where the unbalanced person's foot would land while trying to stabilize themselves," No. 2 continued. "Another stone, set up the same way, but this one tilted in the opposite direction. If someone stepped there, they'd lose their footing entirely and fall forward."

The Master's expression remained unreadable. "And the third spot?"

No. 2 exhaled, his eyes narrowing. "The third spot was cruel. Too cruel for an eight-year-old. It was a trap."

No. 1's patience frayed. "Just tell us what it was!"

"At the third spot, sharp bones were embedded into the ground at precise angles," No. 2 revealed. "The placement wasn't random. The bones were positioned exactly where No. 8's neck would strike if he fell from the destabilized stones."

The room fell into silence.

No. 1 blinked, stunned. "You mean to say… the boy calculated No. 8's height, fall trajectory, and ensured his death? All within moments?"

"Yes," No. 2 said, his voice firm. "The distance between the stones and the bones was deliberate. The boy turned his frailty into a weapon. He couldn't overpower No. 8, so he outthought him."

The Master's cold eyes gleamed with something akin to interest. "And the rib bone you mentioned earlier?"

No. 2 smirked. "The boy hid an eighth rib bone in his shirt, positioned at his neck. When No. 8 struck his vital point, the bone absorbed most of the impact. That's why he didn't lose consciousness. He planned for everything."

No. 1's face twisted in disbelief. "Are you saying that boy turned the entire terrain into his weapon, No. 8's every step, and *allowed* himself to be abducted?"

No. 2 nodded. "Yes. Every action we thought was our own—it was his. He orchestrated the entire scenario."

The room was silent, save for the low crackle of the fire. No. 2's manic laughter echoed briefly, his exhilaration unsettling everyone present.

"I neglected the true purpose of that boy…" No. 2 admitted, a faint grin curling his lips. "At first, I thought he was just trying to avoid being taken. But I was wrong." He paused, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper. "That boy *let* us take him."

The Master's cold, unyielding gaze settled on No. 2, cutting through the air like a blade. "Explain."

No. 2 straightened, his grin never faltering. "Before No. 8 even approached him, the boy had already prepared the field. The last place he glanced at was a skeleton of an animal. On closer inspection, I noticed eight ribs had been removed. Seven of them were placed at the third spot of his trap."

No. 1 furrowed his brow. "And the eighth?"

No. 2's smirk deepened. "He hid it in his shirt. When No. 8 struck his neck, the boy used it to absorb the impact, ensuring he wouldn't lose consciousness. He knew exactly where No. 8 would hit him."

No. 1's jaw tightened. "You're saying he predicted not only the attack but every movement?"

"Yes," No. 2 replied smoothly. "He read No. 8's patterns, calculated his reach, his height, his power. Every step was anticipated. And what's more… he orchestrated the entire scenario so that *we* would believe we had outmaneuvered him. He manipulated us into taking him, ensuring the result he wanted."

The Master's cold expression didn't waver, but there was a flicker of interest in his piercing eyes. "You're suggesting he wanted to be captured?"

"Precisely, Master," No. 2 said, his voice brimming with twisted admiration. "This wasn't just survival instinct. It was calculated. Every glance, every movement, even his 'fall'—it was all part of his strategy. And he's only eight years old."

No. 1 leaned forward, his tone skeptical. "But why would he allow himself to be taken?"

No. 2's smile widened, but he didn't respond, leaving the question hanging in the air.

The Master's voice, cold and deliberate, filled the silence. "Because he knew what awaited him here. He saw opportunity in us—a means to his own end."

The realization settled heavily over the room.

No. 1 hesitated before speaking. "Master, what should we do with him?

The Master's gaze hardened.

No. 2 seized the moment. "Master, may I suggest something? The boy hasn't undergone the Key Ceremony yet, but he's already demonstrated qualities beyond any of our recruits. If we all—if all eleven masks—train him, he could become our ultimate weapon. He could even…" No. 2's voice dipped, almost reverent. "…surpass him

"The one who swallowed the Star "

At the mention of that name, the Master's expression darkened, his piercing eyes narrowing. A long, tense silence followed before he finally spoke.

Didn't i saw you not to mention his name