Cozy Warrior-Chapter 14: The Shadow Beneath the Mask (Part 1)

"Sit down and talk," Hürs said with a firm tone, crossing his arms.

"Alright, but..." Jibbo hesitated, his eyes shifting.

"No buts," Hürs interrupted. "Just tell us."

The group gathered around. Burk was still channeling healing energy, his hands faintly glowing as he mended their lingering wounds from the battle. Mo leaned against the cave wall, arms crossed, watching. Afiri sat quietly, unusually still. Saishi looked nervous, but locked in.

Jibbo exhaled deeply.

"Then I’ll start from the beginning..."

[Flashback Begins]

I was seven when my memories started. Before that, there’s only haze. But what I do remember... is Darion. My brother. My only family.

We grew up in a small orphanage in Borus, a dusty village in the south of Sirca. The kind of place no one remembers unless they grew up there. Our orphanage was run by Mother Lisa—kind, warm-hearted, a woman who gave everything to keep us safe. She was our mother, our shield from the world.

Until the day the black-cloaked men came.

Three of them. Faces hidden, voices cold. They spoke to Lisa behind closed doors. I still remember her face—strained, tears in her eyes.

A week later, they returned. This time, no more talking.

They took twelve of us. All boys. Ages seven to ten.

Darion and I were among them.

"Wait... they took kids?" Burk asked, eyes wide.

Jibbo nodded.

"Yeah. And they didn’t come to save us. They came to forge us."

We were brought to Kalimar, but not the Kalimar you know. Back then, it was a different beast. No great towers, no shining city. Just cracked stone and desperation. The capital was a corpse waiting to rot, run by the old king of shadows—Garmon.

Alexandrus’ father.

That man wasn’t just a ruler. He was a tyrant. A butcher with a vision for control. And he needed tools. Weapons. Killers.

We were dragged beneath the city. Far beneath. I didn’t even know you could build so deep.

Six armored men.

Two Light Mages.

One silence that drowned every scream.

They led us to a dead-end room. Cold. Cracked. A hole in the earth. That’s where we met him.

Garmon.

White-skinned. Eyes like glass. You didn’t need to hear his voice to know you were in danger. Your body felt it.

"Welcome, children," he said, arms spread wide like we were guests.

"You are the chosen. My new soldiers."

Then—

A boy screamed.

"LET US OUT!"

And before he finished the sentence... one of the guards stepped forward and cut off his head.

Just like that.

His head hit the floor with a sickening thud.

The room went silent. We were frozen.

That’s when we understood: no begging, no talking, no crying.

Just surviving.

"You remember that boy’s name?" Hürs asked softly.

"No..." Jibbo replied. "That’s the worst part. I don’t even remember his name. Just his death."

Garmon smiled.

"So. As I was saying... Your first lesson: Survive."

And the doors closed behind him.

Locked.

No food.

No water.

Twelve terrified children.

And a corpse.

Two days passed.

We tried everything—scratching the walls, screaming for help, searching for weak spots. Nothing.

That’s when the real horror began.

My brother Darion had hidden a piece of bread in his shirt. Just a crust. We shared it quietly in the dark.

But someone saw us.

Salomon.

He was the biggest kid there. Quiet. Watchful. A brute in the making. He approached us and asked calmly—

"Got any more?"

"We can’t share. It’s not enough," Darion said.

Another boy spoke up, trying to beg for a piece too.

Salomon turned on him.

He beat him to death with his fists.

And then—he ate him.

Mo let out a soft curse. Saishi went pale.

"Are you serious?" Burk whispered.

Jibbo looked at them all.

"That day, childhood died."

After that, five others joined Salomon. A pack of wolves. He fed them off that body.

Three more days passed.

We lost another one.

Then the doors opened.

Light poured in like salvation... but it wasn’t.

It was just the next step.

Garmon walked in smiling.

"Ah. Some of you survived. Splendid."

They pulled us out.

Fed us. Washed us. Laughed like nothing had happened.

Then came the training.

For the next ten years, we weren’t children.

We were Assassins.

We trained to kill, lie, manipulate. They taught us how to be invisible. How to disappear. How to make pain feel like breathing.

Darion and I survived... barely. The others? Not all of them made it.

Some joined willingly. Some snapped.

And Salomon? He rose.

Eventually, Garmon died. Poisoned, some say. But his son—Alexandrus—took his place.

He was cleaner. More polished. But no less dangerous.

He called us the Black Seed.

I was in his top five. Until I left.

Until I ran.

Jibbo looked down, the firelight casting long shadows across his face.

"That’s why I never told you. Because once you’re part of the Black Seed... you never really leave."

Hürs finally spoke, his voice steady but soft.

"Brother... You should’ve told us."

"I wanted to," Jibbo said, eyes distant. "But I was afraid you’d look at me like a weapon. Not like Jibbo."

Saishi stepped forward, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder.

"You’re not a weapon to us. You’re family. Nothing changes that."

Burk nodded, his eyes watery. Mo stepped forward too, grinning wide as always and slapping Jibbo hard on the back.

"Now it makes sense why you’re always so moody, HAHAHA! But hey—if you survived that, I’m glad you’re on our side, little shadow boy."

Even Afiri nodded solemnly.

"You survived hell... that’s cool, Jibbo."

The group fell quiet. A long, heavy silence that wasn’t awkward—it was respectful. They had seen a darker corner of their brother’s soul... and stood beside it.

But as the silence lingered, Jibbo’s eyes lifted, and he looked into the fire again.

"...But that’s only half the story."

Everyone turned back to him.

"What do you mean?" Hürs asked, tensing again.

Jibbo exhaled slowly.

"After 10 years of training, it wasn’t all that happened, there was more. A mission that changed my life"

He paused.

A cold chill passed through the group—despite the warmth of the cave.

The story of Jibbo the assassin was not over.

There were more shadows left to face.