The Last Paragon in the Apocalypse

Under normal circumstances, when a person kills another human, they are supposed to feel some form of guilt or fear. Even cold-blooded killers feel something, even if it’s just for a brief moment. Killing a fellow human is too cruel in so many ways.

So, when someone kills without feeling anything at all, that person is often seen as emotionless. People like that are called demons, psychopaths, sociopaths, or monsters. They have no attachment to anything, no remorse.

Klaus is one of those people, but his case goes beyond that. When he first killed Matin Guan, he expected to feel something—regret, guilt, anything. But after wiping the guy out, Klaus felt perfectly fine. In fact, he felt happy.

He doesn’t know where that part of him came from, but he never cared. He craved it—the bloodshed. A part of him needed it. After his first encounter with Matin Guan in Sunlight Forest, something inside Klaus wanted more.

Embark on a quest at freewebnovel

Again, he doesn’t know why, but the thought of killing humans felt invigorating to him. The rush, the thrill—it made him feel alive. So, when he woke up from his coma after the assassination attempt, his blood had been boiling for slaughter. Today, he had the perfect opportunity to satisfy that craving. The right situation to shed some blood.

Knock, knock.

“Room service,” Klaus said, knocking on the door. A second later, it opened, revealing a man wearing dark shades. Klaus smiled, his face calm, and muttered, “Hello… Bye.”

A dagger flashed forward, and before the man could react, his head came tumbling down the floor. Klaus didn’t need to use his Eye of Malevolence to stun his soul—there was no point. The man was just a Saint, too weak. The dagger sliced through his neck like butter, the head falling to the ground with a soft thud.

“One down, 36 more to go,” Klaus muttered, kneeling to place the head on the chest of the body. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the body and the head. Then, without a second glance, he moved out, heading to his next target.

A few seconds later, another Saint opened the door. His head rolled to the floor before he could react to the familiar face greeting him. Klaus didn’t need any special skills to enhance his strength; his normal strength was more than enough.

But aside from appearing ordinary, his features are now more visible making the people he was killing recognize him that split second before their death.

The next door opened, and another head fell. There were 34 Saints and 3 Sages, and Klaus planned to kill every last one of them before he left.

Since the hotel was exclusively for assassins and workers of the Dark Order, Klaus knew anyone who heard a knock would answer. They trusted each other, thinking they were safe within their own organization. Sneak attacks weren’t even a concern.

That’s what they thought.

The hideout had no cameras or security measures—nothing to alert them. It was a free-range playground for Klaus to unleash his darker side. The fourth door opened, revealing a woman in her mid-30s. But even she wasn’t spared. Another head hit the floor.

Klaus moved swiftly, his footsteps light and precise. No one expected death to come knocking at their door, quite literally. He approached the fifth door and knocked softly.

“Who is it?” came a voice from inside.

“Room service,” Klaus answered, his voice calm as always. The door cracked open, and another Saint appeared. Before the man could fully register what was happening, Klaus’s dagger had already sliced clean through his neck. The headless body dropped to the floor with a thud, and Klaus barely blinked.

“Five down,” he muttered under his breath, stepping over the body. His movements were fluid, cold, and efficient.

As he approached the next door, he didn’t bother to knock. With a swift kick, he broke it open, catching the occupant by surprise. The Saint inside barely had time to reach for his weapon before his head was cleaved clean from his body.

“Six.”

There was no hesitation. No pause. Klaus was a storm of death, moving door to door, cutting down Saints as though they were mere practice dummies. It didn’t matter if they were armed, unarmed, or prepared—none of them stood a chance.

He wiped some blood off his dagger, his face completely void of emotion. There were still 28 Saints and 3 Sages to go. The thrill of it coursed through his veins, and the more he killed, the calmer he felt. A

very cold sensation he never knew he could crave yet here he was.

Klaus knocked again, and this time, when the door opened, it was one of the Sages. The Sage’s eyes widened in recognition, but Klaus was faster. The Sage raised his hand to block the attack but Klaus’s dagger was already at his throat. One clean slash and the Sage crumpled to the ground.

“One Sage down,” Klaus whispered with a small smile.

With his Spirit Eye fully activated, Klaus moved swiftly from door to door, cutting through the hotel like a shadow of death. An hour later, 30 Saints were dead, along with two Sages. Only four Saints and one Sage remained. The last Sage was the woman who had led him to the elevator earlier.

The remaining four Saints were lounging in the hotel’s welcoming area. Klaus didn’t immediately descend to the ground floor. Instead, he headed straight to the top floor, where his eye caught a button labeled “Self Destruct.”

Beside it was a timer. Without hesitation, Klaus set it to a day after he return to Ross City, ensuring the place would crumble long after he was gone. He then left the top floor and made his way to the ground floor.

When the elevator chimed, Klaus stepped out, now hidden beneath his disguise like how he was when he entered. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the four Saints sitting at a table, casually drinking. They had no idea what was coming.

Nobody expected anyone to infiltrate their hideout. In truth, even if someone managed to kill one of the assassins, they wouldn’t know the value of the ring they wore. Unless, of course, they extracted the information from the assassin—if they somehow managed to capture them.

But that was unlikely since one of their teeth was poisoned. Before anyone could interrogate them, they would commit suicide by biting down on it. So, no one ever expected an infiltration. But Klaus did, and now he has stepped out of the elevator, ready to kill.

He shifted his gaze to the Sage behind the counter and smiled—a smile that promised nothing but death.

Without a word, a 14-inch needle materialized in his hand. In an instant, it flew through the air. Before the Sage behind the counter could react, a hole appeared in her forehead, the Void Piercing Arrow drew a sleek hole through the skull.

But the arrow didn’t stop there. It continued its deadly path, and before anyone could blink, the last four Saints collapsed, lifeless, their bodies hitting the ground with dull thuds.

Klaus stood in the middle of the room, his work complete. The hotel, once a fortress for assassins, was now a silent graveyard.

He quickly took the images necessary for his plans in the next few days before leaving. The Hotel is for Assassins and since no civilian will come strolling in since he made sure to lock down the place, he was confident his work is done there.

He quickly made his way back to the Third Finger Royal Hotel making sure he remained as discreet as he could be.

The massacre was already a distant memory to him. The weight of the lives he had taken didn’t linger. He knew this act would anger powerful people, but did it matter to him? Probably not.

After returning to his hotel, Klaus took a long bath, washing away the blood and sweat. He slept like a baby that night, unbothered by the massacre he had just committed.

The next day, he and the others left, each heading back to their respective cities. They now had four passes to enter a Forbidden Zone, and no one wanted to waste any more time.

When Klaus landed at the Ross Mansion, Kofi was already there, waiting to pick him and his sister Hanna up. Two days later, two major events shook the entire world, sending shockwaves through powerful circles and leaving many trembling in fear.