The Greatest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Tensura

A Broken Emperor, A Fading Pride

After getting the most brutal beating of his life, Rudra had changed.

Gone was the arrogance, the unshakable pride that had once driven him to believe he was destined to rule everything. He had faced countless warriors in his time—heroes, demon lords, even dragons—but none compared to him.

The Storm Crusader.

Even the mere memory of that relentless storm of power sent chills down his spine. He remembered the blows that shattered his body, the crushing force that had ground him into the dirt, the overwhelming sense of helplessness as he realized he was completely outmatched.

He had been powerful. But power meant nothing before an absolute force.

Rudra sat in his war chamber, staring at his reflection in a silver chalice. His fingers clenched the cup so tightly it warped under his grip. Even now, he could still feel the phantom pain of that battle. The way his bones had cracked, the way his pride had been torn from him.

Velgrynd had noticed the shift in him. His once-endless talks of conquest had faded. He no longer spoke of ruling everything, of uniting the world under his banner. At first, she thought he was simply maturing, realizing the weight of leadership.

But Rudra knew better.

He had stared into the abyss. And it had stared back with eyes that promised utter annihilation.

The Storm Crusader had shown him mercy once.

There would not be a second time.

Deep within the Underworld, far below the realms of mortals and gods, a storm of abyssal energy was forming. The Eternal Abyss, a realm where fallen demons and forgotten beings lay in slumber, trembled with dark power.

A hand burst from the cracked obsidian ground.

Then another.

Muscle and flesh knitted back together, bones reforming as energy surged through them. A slow, deep breath echoed through the cursed land as crimson eyes snapped open, burning like molten embers.

Guy Crimson had returned.

For a moment, he lay there, feeling his body, his strength, his power. He grinned, flexing his fingers. "Heh. Took long enough."

But before he could rise—

A presence descended upon him.

No. Not one. Four.

A suffocating aura of absolute darkness spread through the abyss, swallowing the infernal light around him. The very fabric of the Underworld shuddered, as if something beyond comprehension had arrived.

Then, in an instant—

A black boot slammed into Guy's chest.

The force sent him flying, his body crashing through jagged rock formations before slamming into an obsidian pillar. The impact was so violent that the entire land quaked.

Guy groaned, coughing out black ichor. He barely had time to process what had just happened before—

A silver flash streaked through the darkness.

A second strike—a brutal, precise heel drop—crushed him further into the abyssal ground. The weight of it was unbearable, as if the very world was pressing down on him.

For the first time in centuries, Guy felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Fear.

"Hah... ha..." He struggled to breathe, his crimson eyes flickering with confusion. "Who the hell—"

From the shadows, four figures emerged.

Each one radiated an overwhelming presence, a terrifying blend of elegance, malice, and absolute authority. They moved like wraiths, their footsteps silent, their eyes piercing through the darkness.

Then, the tallest among them stepped forward—her icy-blue aura freezing the very air itself.

"You should have stayed dead," she said, her voice like a whisper of death.

Guy's eyes narrowed. "Tch... and who the hell are you supposed to be?"

The crimson-eyed woman beside her chuckled darkly, tilting her head.

"We are the shadows that dance unseen."

"We are the silence before the storm," the silver-haired one added.

Then, the last one, the one who had struck him first, crouched beside his battered form. Her blood-red lips curled into a sinister smile.

"We are the Eminence in Shadow."

Guy's breath hitched. This wasn't normal. These weren't just some rogue assassins or ambitious demons trying to make a name for themselves.

This was something else entirely.

He had dealt with many monsters in his time. But these four?

They were on another level.

"What do you want?" he gritted out, wiping the blood from his mouth.

The leader stepped forward, her piercing gaze colder than the void itself.

"We are here to deliver a message."

Guy chuckled, despite the pain. "Oh? And what message is that?"

The ground shattered beneath him as a merciless kick crashed into his ribs. His body twisted mid-air before slamming back into the abyssal terrain.

"You don't ask questions," the silver-haired one murmured, stepping over his fallen form.

"You listen."

Guy groaned, rolling onto his side. He was strong. Insanely strong. But these four moved like ghosts, struck like nightmares, and carried the weight of something far beyond mere strength.

The leader knelt beside him, tilting his chin up with a single, gloved finger.

"This world has changed while you were gone. If you think you can return and act as recklessly as before..."

Her grip tightened, claws digging slightly into his skin.

"...You'll disappear for good."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then—without another word—they vanished.

No teleportation circle. No energy signature.

Just—gone.

Like shadows fading into nothingness.

Guy lay there for a long time, staring at the swirling abyss above him.

Then—he laughed.

A deep, slow, almost deranged laugh.

"Hah… ha… hahahaha… Damn…" He wiped the blood from his lips, grinning despite the pain.

"Now this… this is interesting."

After his brutal resurrection in the Underworld, Guy Crimson—still feeling the effects of the merciless beating he had received from the enigmatic Eminence in Shadow—teleported to the Ice Continent.

The moment he arrived, he noticed something was off.

The once-unforgiving blizzards had calmed, the ice that once stretched endlessly had begun to thaw, and the bitter cold that once defined this land was less severe.

It was still cold—but not as cold as it should be.

His golden eyes narrowed as he took in the sight. Then, two familiar presences appeared before him.

Two figures knelt immediately before him, their heads bowed.

Rain and Misery.

His most loyal aides, still here, still waiting.

"Lord Guy," they said in unison, their voices steady.

"You have returned."

Guy crossed his arms, eyeing them both carefully. They looked the same—Rain, composed as ever, her violet eyes calm but watchful. Misery, her silver hair swaying slightly in the wind, her expression unreadable.

But there was something… different about the way they knelt.

Something was wrong.

His voice came out cold and direct.

"Where is Velzard?"

The reaction was immediate.

For the first time, they hesitated.

Rain and Misery exchanged a brief glance—a glance filled with meaning.

Then, Rain answered.

"She is gone."

A brief silence followed.

Then Guy spoke, his tone sharp.

"Gone? Where?"

Misery's voice was softer, almost reluctant.

"She left, my lord. She did not wait for you."

The words hit harder than expected.

Velzard… left?

Not waited. Not searched. Just left.

He had thought, maybe, she would have at least lingered here. But no. She had moved on.

His fist clenched at his side, but his face remained unreadable.

The cold wind picked up slightly, swirling ice and snow around them.

But he forced himself to push that aside.

Now wasn't the time.

"What happened while I was gone?" he demanded, shifting the conversation.

Rain and Misery, sensing the change in focus, immediately straightened.

"The world is still in motion, my lord," Rain began.

"The balance of power remains with the same Demon Lords: Luminous, Draguel, Leon, Ramiris, Milim, Frey, Carrion, and Clayman," Misery continued.

"There have been wars, conflicts, and changes, but the core structure remains intact," Rain added.

"But you…" Misery glanced at him. "You have been forgotten."

That sentence hung in the air.

Guy didn't react immediately. He simply… processed.

Forgotten?

That should have angered him.

Should have made him want to crush something, destroy something, remind the world who he was.

But instead—

A slow, sharp grin stretched across his face.

It wasn't a pleasant smile.

It was dangerous.

Forgotten?

That meant he could start over.

That meant he could reshape everything as he pleased.

That meant he had work to do.

He turned slightly, gazing at the Ice Continent—his once unshakable domain, now beginning to crumble.

And then, for the first time in centuries,

Guy Crimson laughed.