Death System: I awakened SSS rank System

Chapter 82 82: Dominance Of the Assassins

The Rift Hall had been uneasy from the moment the system signals began to pulse through its vast structure. Hundreds of players stood scattered across the glowing floor plates, each of them waiting for the next level announcement that would decide their fate, rank, and survival.

Myia stood close to the center but slightly withdrawn, her eyes constantly searching the crowd with growing unease. Her eyes searched for one person— Zakar.

Beside her, Sera remained composed on the surface, but her stillness was not peace, it was calculation. Her eyes tracked movement across the hall in slow, deliberate scans, reading tension in posture, reading fear in breathing patterns, reading the slightest abnormalities that most people would ignore.

Myia, on the other hand, was less controlled, her fingers curling and uncurling slightly as she tried to suppress the growing anxiety in her chest.

"He should have been back by now," Myia muttered quietly, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the Rift systems activating.

"The next level is about to start… where did he even go?"

Sera didn't answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on a group of players near the far edge of the hall, where the light seemed slightly darker than it should have been.

"If he's not here," she said finally, her voice calm but low, "then either he's already caught in something beyond our control."

Myia swallowed, that thought sitting heavily in her chest.

Before she could respond, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first, a pressure change. Conversations across the hall faltered one by one. Movement slowed. Even the system glow overhead flickered faintly, as if reacting to an external interference it did not recognize.

Then the Rift Hall split with presence.

A ripple tore through the far end of the chamber not physically destructive, but spatially wrong. It wasn't an entrance so much as a forced opening in reality itself.

From it, a figure stepped forward.

He walked slowly, unhurried, as if the chaos around him was irrelevant. His presence alone made space feel tighter.

Myia instinctively took a step forward.

"That's—"

Sera grabbed her wrist instantly, pulling her back down with controlled force. "No," she said sharply, her voice suddenly colder.

"Don't move."

Myia frowned, struggling slightly. "But why?—"

"That's exactly why you don't move, you don'tknow he is here." Sera cut in, her eyes fixed on the newcomer.

"That's not someone who comes here to talk."

The figure stopped at the center of the hall. The silence that followed was unnatural. Even breathing felt louder. He looked around slowly, as though measuring every soul present, not with curiosity but with judgment.

Then he spoke.

"Where is Zakar?" The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It sank into the hall like a weight pressing down on every shoulder at once.

No one answered. Not because they didn't hear him. But because something in their instincts told them answering would be worse than silence.

The man's gaze narrowed slightly. "I will ask once more," he said, slower now, each word deliberate. "Where is Zakar?"

Still nothing.

Myia's heart pounded in her chest. She shifted again despite Sera's grip, but Sera held her firm, eyes never leaving the man.

A tense moment stretched...then it shattered.

An S-rank player stepped forward.

His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere slightly confidence returning to those who recognized his rank. He cracked his neck, irritation clear on his face.

"You've got a death wish walking in here like that," he said loudly. "

This is a Rift preparation zone. We're about to begin official level transition. You don't interrupt that."

A few nearby players murmured in agreement, emboldened by his stance. The S-rank smirked slightly, stepping further into the open space.

"Whatever business you have, take it outside. We're not your—"

He never finished the sentence. The air snapped and the S-rank's body froze mid-step.

For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then—

Multiple knives appeared in the air. Not thrown, not seen moving. Just there.

They embedded into him in a brutal, synchronized instant piercing shoulder, chest, abdomen, locking him in place like a specimen pinned by an invisible hand.

Blood exploded outward in a sharp burst, splattering across the glowing floor tiles.

The hall detonated into chaos.

"What—?!"

"Move!"

"Get back!"

Screams erupted as players scattered in every direction, panic tearing through formation instantly. Some tried to retreat toward the exits, others drew weapons instinctively, but no one understood what they were facing.

The S-rank coughed violently, staggering back despite the blades. His aura exploded outward in raw force, shaking the ground beneath him as he forced his body upright.

"You think—this is enough?!" he roared, voice strained but defiant. "I'm not falling here!"

His energy surged, wind pressure blasting outward in a widening circle, pushing nearby players back. The knives trembled in his body but did not falter.

And still—

He moved forward.

Step.

Another step.

Blood dripping.

Aura burning.

He raised his hand, gathering power for a counterstrike but above them, something shifted again.

High in the Rift Hall's skeletal upper structure, two figures stood in silence.

The crowd looked up and froze.

Two heads.

Two heads of two Guides hanging and dripping blood above their heads.

Still dripping with fresh blood, held casually by their hands. The realization hit the hall like a second explosion.

The system flickered violently, unstable.

And panic turned into full-scale collapse.

Players rushed blindly now, no formation, no order just survival instinct taking over. Some attacked anything near them, others trampled weaker players in desperation.

Myia's face went pale. "Guides… they killed the Guides…"

Sera's grip tightened. "This isn't a disruption," she said coldly. "This is domination."

The S-rank on the ground suddenly trembled again.

Then—

He laughed.

A broken, furious sound.

"You think—this—" he gasped, forcing himself upright, aura flaring violently despite his injuries, "—will stop me?!"

His body surged forward again, dragging the embedded blades with him, tearing flesh as he moved. Pain warped his voice, but rage kept him standing.

"I am still standing!" he roared, launching forward in a desperate, explosive charge toward the hall's center.

But Sholing finally moved his eyes. Just slightly. A glance not even full attention was all it took.

And the S-rank stopped mid-air. His momentum vanished. His body locked. For a brief, horrifying moment, it looked like he was suspended by an unseen authority.

Then his expression twisted in confusion before his body cracked with invisible force, sending him crashing violently into the ground, sliding across the Rift floor in a broken arc.

The hall fell into stunned silence for half a second.

Then Sholing spoke again. Calm and controlled but deadly as he'll.

"Zakar," he said softly, voice carrying effortlessly through the chaos. "Bring him out."

And the Rift Hall, once a place of structured advancement, stood on the edge of complete collapse.

AUTHOR'S WISH =SUPER GIFT PLEASE. I'LL BE EXTREMELY HAPPY TO GET ONE FROM YOU.