The old women corpse hit the floor with a dull thud—not a grand fall, not a theatrical collapse.
Just flesh meeting wood.
Uneventful.
Forgettable.
Like dropping a sack of spoiled meat.
Grey stood still, the dagger loose in his grip, its edge glinting wet beneath the shop's golden haze.
The woman's blood seeped out, warm for a moment, then cooling fast.
Her body spasmed once.
Then never again.
A D-rank hunter.
Stronger than any normal human.
A shop owner with a shop full of artifacts and weapons.
An Experienced hunter.
And yet, she died by the hand of mana less boy.
One clean cut to the neck.
That was all it took to kill someone like her.
All that strength, that reputation—meant nothing the moment the blade kissed her throat.
She couldn't scream. Couldn't resist. Couldn't even understand how she died.
And that's the truth of it.
People don't die in heroic epics. They die like this. Confused. Ugly. Fast.
Death was never heroic in the first place. it was always ugly and terrifying...
Grey looked down at her his eyes cold and unblinking.
There was No regret in his eyes.
Nor disgust.
Just assessment.
Like one might give a transaction report.
This wasn't the first person he had killed. And it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. He had ended lives killed people more then one can imagine. And it had always ended the same.
"..."
With the same Silence.
Be it his previous world or this...
They were all same....
This world was no different from the previous one.
Yes, here they had mana. Scrolls. Runes. Artifacts. Fancy tricks that let them fly or burn cities to ash.
The human here were lot stronger then the ones in his previous life.
They can control nature. control fire, water wind, gravity even space...
It was like they hold the power comparable to god.
But all that? what the point of it....
At the end of the day, they were still made of blood, bone, nerves, and fear.
Still mortal.
Still human.
Still killable.
Just like in his previous world
"Fools," Grey muttered.
To him they were nothing but fools...
He experience it first hand how it feel to be dead. To be erase of existence.
Death was the only eternal and bitter truth in this world or any world
If I cut off your head, you'll die. No enchantment can change that.
You might be stronger, faster, able to control mana—but in the end, time catches up with everyone.
Even the strongest will fall someday.
No one can escape death.
Which means…
Even the powerful can be killed—if they're not careful.
Just like the old woman lying in front of him.
She was much stronger than him.
She had more mana, more resources, more experience.
But she still died.
Why?
Because she let her guard down.
Because she looked down on him.
Because she never even considered that someone without mana could harm her.
It wasn't his strength that killed her.
It was her arrogance.
Her carelessness.
That was her biggest mistake.
And it was the last one she ever made.
He crouched by her again—not to mourn her.
No.
He did it so he can study the result.
As she he look at her hollow lifeless eye that mirror his own he understood...
This is what death really looks like.
Not poetic. Not tragic.
Just quiet. Cold. Real.
There's no beauty in it.
No glory.
Just stillness.
Just silence.
Just... the end.
And yet, people pretend otherwise.
They talk about death like it means something—call it honorable, noble.
As they try to give their life a reason.
But when it finally comes, they were unable to see and understand the truth.
They lie to themselves.
That's why humans are such hypocrites.
They call you by your name your whole life—treat you like a person.
But the moment you're dead, you're not "her" or "him" anymore.
You're just the body.
A thing.
An object.
They even romanticize death.
Wrap it in big words—justice, revenge, purpose, sacrifice.
But in the end, those are just stories.
Excuses.
Decorations for a grave.
They do it to feel good...
So the one who are still alive can sleep peacefully.
But grey.
Grey was different he seen so much death so much blood that he was numb to it...
In the first place there were other option to loot this shop but grey choose killing..
He didn't do it because he like killing
No.
He didn't kill her out of hate.
He didn't kill her for justice. Or out of revenge because she scam him.
No.
He killed because it benefited him.
Because not killing her would've made him weaker.
Because letting her live brought him no benefit.
Because her death brought him gain.
Now her treasure belonged to him.
Now he can continue his journey with more ease.
There was no emotion in it.
No regret.
No satisfaction.
Just pure logic.
'Sentiment is a disease,' he whispered, not even realizing he'd spoken aloud.
And he meant it.
He had long since buried the part of himself that winced at this kind of thing.
That part didn't help you survive.
It got you stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend.
It got you killed because you hesitated.
The current him felt nothing
Because to feel nothing was freedom.
And being freed was his ultimate goal and what he yearned for...
As grey stood over her cropes.
The shop around him had gone silent—eerily so.
The artifacts shimmered under warm light, waiting to be claimed.
He didn't even feel excitement.
It was just another stepping stone in his journey.
He moved to turn away, but paused as something caught his eye.
A pouch.
Still tied to her belt.
He knelt again—calmly, like it was all part of his routine—and undid the strap.
Coins.
Gold coins.
A lot of them.
He counted by weight—around 700.
Enough to buy rare scrolls. Enough to live a year if in this small village.
Grey let out a faint breath.
As he tucked the pouch inside his coat and stood on her corpse.
His lips curled up into... a smile
Then, softly—half to himself—he murmured,
"I wonder who really got scammed here… heh."