The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

As they ventured into the mysterious dome, a sense of intrigue engulfed them. The narrow path extended before them, beckoning their steps. Each stride amplified the anticipation that filled the assassins' hearts. Their fearless demeanor remained unshaken, fixated solely on the path ahead, where a radiant light pierced through the darkness.

In this hushed sanctuary, every footfall resonated with amplified intensity, their hidden weapons occasionally clashing, a discordant symphony of danger. Clad in obsidian-hued attire, their forms melded seamlessly into the shadowy depths of the passageway.

As they approached the end of the narrow path, a gradual infusion of light bathed their bodies, revealing a sprawling expanse that unfolded before their eyes. The stone floor, now adorned with patches of moss and hairline cracks, bore the mark of a bygone era. Fragmented structures adorned the walls, remnants of a once grand design, while scattered debris lay scattered across the ground.

Above them, the dome stretched limitlessly, yet its brilliance was veiled by a canopy of leaves, obstructing the sun's rays. However, at the farthest end of the open area, a radiant patch stood untouched, untouched by foliage, bathing the surroundings in an ethereal glow.

Drawing closer, they discerned a set of modest steps ascending to a slightly elevated platform. At its center stood an ancient stone chair, its age evident through the ravages of time. In a moment of realization, the assassins' gazes fixated on their quarry, perched upon the stone seat, his head bowed low.

"Eureka! It's him!" One of the assassins exclaimed with a surge of exhilaration, his finger pointing directly at the unsuspecting boy.

His comrades observed the scene, affirming the revelation with silent nods. Yet, their advance was arrested when the short-haired woman interjected, a glimmer in her eyes betraying her suspicion.

"Halt! Do you not find it peculiar?" Her voice resounded, and her eyes scrutinized every nook and cranny, searching for any hidden trap or lurking danger.

Squinting, she endeavored to discern the boy's expression without approaching him, only to be met with an impenetrable darkness cloaking his features.

"Why hesitate? We're on the brink of success! One swift stroke across his neck, and our mission shall be accomplished!" Impatience tinged the other assassins' words as they urged her forward.

"Miss, may I inquire about your thoughts?" Amidst the disgruntlement that rumbled through the ranks, a lone assassin, the embodiment of rationality, dared to question the woman.

The short-haired woman turned her gaze upon him, her piercing eyes sweeping from his feet to his crown, before gracing him with a faint smile. "Look," she gestured toward the boy who silently observed their exchange from a distance, showing no inkling of escape, "do you not find it curious?"

"He neither weeps nor averts his gaze, his head still bowed," she continued, her brow furrowing in consternation. "Does this not strike you as profoundly unusual?"

"He's frightened to the point of muteness," the other assassins chuckled at her observation, their laughter echoing within the confines of the dome. "See? There's no conceivable way he can elude us," one of them added, his arms outstretched in assurance.

Unperturbed by their jests, the short-haired woman disregarded her comrades, her eyes unwaveringly fixed upon the inquisitive assassin. With her arms crossed beneath her bosom, she accentuated her figure, an unspoken challenge lingering in her gaze.

"Perhaps this dome conceals a hidden mechanism?" the perplexed assassin ventured, his eyes darting around in an attempt to substantiate his speculation.

A wave of laughter erupted from his comrades, their mirth nearly bringing tears to their eyes as they reveled in his words.

"Pufhaaa, are you a child? Do you still believe in such myths?"

"Look, how old are you? Even in your black garb, we can discern the signs of budding youth!"

"Come on, let's finish this swiftly; I'm craving a cold beer."

Flushed with embarrassment, the assassin's face reddened, and he lowered his head in shame. Meanwhile, the short-haired woman shook her head in disappointment, dismayed by his response.

"Let's proceed then!" With no authority to halt them, the short-haired woman reluctantly relented. They were all seasoned experts in their field, their bodies honed to the standards of second-class swordsmen. Without hesitation, they traversed the open area, drawing closer to the stone chair.

They stood in anticipation, their gazes fixated on the boy before them, curiosity pervading their every thought.

"What are we waiting for?" One of the assassins, without bothering to seek an answer, unsheathed his sword and swung it towards the boy's neck.

*blast*

A geyser of blood erupted from the headless body, its crimson cascade resembling a macabre fountain that stained the surrounding floor in a sanguinary pool. The assassins instinctively recoiled, their steps faltering.

"At last, we have accomplished it!" cried one of the assassins, his voice brimming with exultation, joined in celebration by his comrades.

The short-haired woman regarded them with a sense of pity. Her superior had provided her with comprehensive information regarding the mission assigned to the assassins.

For years, they had attempted to assassinate the Master Witch's family, only to meet with failure. Their repeated botched attempts had incited the wrath of the king, leading to the decapitation of each failed assassin, swiftly replaced like mere pawns, with the same mission bequeathed upon them.

The short-haired woman sighed, her attention shifting to the severed head lying not far from its lifeless torso. She observed, with a mixture of horror and intrigue, as the boy's eyes widened and his mouth curled upward.

An involuntary step backward escaped the short-haired woman as a shiver coursed through her body, her breathing growing labored.

What was that? Her mind raced with questions. She redirected her gaze towards the oblivious assassins, realizing they remained unaware of her disquiet.

"What's the matter, miss?" Not everyone disregarded her, as one of the formerly embarrassed assassins inquired.

"N-nothing," she stammered, her face drained of color, stealing a quick glance at the decapitated head on the ground. "Can we... can we leave now?" she added, her voice quivering, capturing the attention of her comrades.

"Yes, but I must carry his severed head to demonstrate our success to the king," one of the other assassins responded disdainfully. He had already noticed her trembling legs and pallid countenance.

It was clear that she was terrified in this darkened domain. Women, they're all the same! He silently smirked, indulging in his prejudiced thoughts.

*steep* *steep*

As the assassins took a step forward, intending to retrieve the severed head, their movements froze in place, their eyes widening in disbelief as they beheld the head dissolve into a pool of blood.

"Hey, what is that?" one of the assassins asked, a hint of surprise evident in his voice as he pointed towards the boy's body. The assassin closest to the body instinctively took a step back, drawing his sword with caution. Unlike his comrades, he regarded the lifeless form with a wary gaze, alert to any potential danger.

The other assassins swiftly followed suit, unsheathing their own blades in response.

"A... demon," the short-haired woman finally breathed, her voice laced with fear. The courage she had mustered moments ago had now dissipated entirely, replaced by sheer terror. Her knees buckled, bringing her to the ground, her eyes wide with horror as she beheld the sight of the head still wearing a sinister smile.

Meanwhile, the pool of blood surrounding the body and severed head began to recede, seemingly drawn back into the boy's frame. To their astonishment, the blood then coalesced, reshaping itself into the outline of a head and neck.

"Oh my God..." the short-haired woman gasped, her realization dawning upon her. Before she could fully comprehend the situation, her fellow assassins charged forward, ruthlessly slashing at the boy's body.

*slash* *slash*

Fearless and relentless, they carved through each limb, severing arms and legs that thudded heavily upon the ground. Their blades then converged upon the boy's chest, only to encounter an impenetrable resistance.

*clank*

"Ah... sorry to keep you waiting." Suddenly, a hoarse voice resonated throughout the dome, echoing repeatedly and piercing their minds with a haunting resonance.