3rd person POV-
TAK— TAK— TAK.
The horses thundered across the dirt-laced marshland, hooves cracking against the wet stone and sludge.
Three figures rode under the looming silver moon, their silhouettes crisp against the eerie twilight haze. The wind tangled their cloaks as the creatures beneath them galloped like shadows chasing vengeance.
Among the trio, voices broke the night.
"What's the plan from here on, Father?" Anna asked, her tone calm, almost unreadable.
"Plan?" Nara snorted, her voice thick with venom. "Hell, what else do you think we're doing? We're going to thrash their heads in. Frankly, I want to obliterate those bastards with my own goddamn hands."
Her hands tightened on the reins. "That freak dared lay a hand on my boy."
Silence.
Tension pulsed like lightning between them.
"Nara… don't be rash," Reynolds finally said, his voice low. "I'm as livid as you are. The state my son came back in—"He paused. His throat clenched. "I haven't recovered from it either."
He exhaled hard through his nose, the air cold enough to fog.
"But this—" he gestured to the path ahead, "—this is my fault. All of it. My choice to stay hidden. My silence. And because of that… people are getting hurt."
His knuckles whitened against the reins.
"We take down Obscurum's base. At any cost."
"I've laid low all this time, swallowed pride and dirt alike, but now—"He looked up at the sky, eyes sharp. "They touched something they shouldn't have."
"The nobles won't stay quiet once they hear a fallen house is stirring again... but that's a storm I'm willing to face."
"Father, we've arrived," Anna said, her voice calm — too calm — as her eyes narrowed at the shadowy settlement in the distance. It looked like a bandit hideout, half-sunken in ruin, half-disguised by terrain.
But her gaze…There was something unreadable in it. Something dark. Vile. Brewing deep beneath her skin.
Despite her silent nature, Anna cared deeply for Roy — more than anything. She never admitted it aloud. Not to him. Not to anyone. But the state in which Roy returned…
Broken. Bloodied.
It had cracked something inside her.
The trio dismounted their horses.
"Opimum Introspecta," Reynolds muttered, casting a layered concealment spell.
In seconds, the horses vanished from view — illusion and silence both activated. They were still quite far from the hideout, concealed under the cover of Reynolds' stealth array.
"Let's go," he said, eyes scanning the dark.
"Jon and Munroe are already in position at the rear gate. Their squad is ready. Left flank is covered by our mercenary guard. Right flank has Lara and her assassins on standby."
His tone hardened:
"We don't make mistakes. Anyone from Neandth — take them alive. Anyone from the Organization...Do as you please. Just finish the task."
Both Anna and Nara nodded — murderous intent dripping from their silent figures.
With a swoosh, the trio vanished, swallowed by shadow as they slipped into the dark.
SWIK. SWIK. SWIK.
Three arrows zipped through the night air — silent, graceful, lethal.
The guards posted along the outer wall didn't even realize they were dead. Their bodies dropped with a soft thud, collapsing into the mud below.
From the shadows, three figures emerged — masked, silent, cloaked in veils of mana. With quick precision, they dragged the corpses into the darkness, shadows swallowing them whole.
Seconds later, the assassins took their places — now posing as the guards they'd just erased.
Further down the wall, two real guards were making their patrol round.
"Hey, Jordan," one said, half-whispering, "you heard about Neandth's Chancellor? Bastard's getting married again."
"Old man's what, sixty-five now?" Jordan muttered back, his eyes still scanning the dark horizon.
"Yeah. And the girl's... sixteen. I swear to the Ancients, the whole place is just rot."
"Watch your mouth," Jordan warned, voice low. "Slip like that near a noble envoy and they'll be wearing your teeth as charms."
"..."
"..."
The casual talk died in the wind.
That's when a figure appeared behind them — no footsteps, no warning.
"Hey, Jordan," a voice asked, calm and cold. "Mind telling me what exactly happened to the slum down south?"
GASP—
"Shit! Who the hell—?"
He turned, eyes wide.
"Wait. You're not— Call the—"
SHHHK.
His head separated from his body with a sound like slicing wet cloth. It fell forward, body following — still in shock.
"Jo…Jordan… you fuc—"
CRACK.
The second guard's body froze mid-word, his expression twisted in horror.
SNAP.
He shattered cleanly — a brittle ice sculpture reduced to dust.
The figure lowered her blade, the frost still clinging to the steel.
Then, she pulled a small, rune-etched mana device from her waist — glowing faintly blue. She pressed a finger to the crystal set into its surface.
"Outer wall secure. Nothing worth recovering."
From the device, a gruff male voice answered through a static-like pulse of magic:
"Anna, begin next phase."
A second voice followed — sharper, brisk:
"Nara. Move in. Finish your work before we enter."
The woman didn't respond — she was already gone.
.
.
.
In the dark, gloomy night, a lone figure walked the stoned streets, a hood pulled low over her head. She looked like just another gambler, dressed casually — maybe on her way to the nearest dice den.
As she made her way down the lane, her eyes scanned the stone-and-wood buildings, the hanging lamps, and the well-kept signs of a thriving night economy. The streets were empty, yet brightly lit — a strange contrast. Everything about this place screamed exuberant life.
Then she stopped.
At the end of a crooked path, she stood before a massive wall — old, cold, cracked with age.
Suddenly—
Twenty figures stepped out, surrounding her in the narrow corridor.
"Well, well," one of them sneered, his voice thick with menace. "It's late, sweetheart. What's a lady like you doing here alone?"
He licked his lips.
"Or... maybe you're here for fun? Twenty of us can give you plenty. What do you say?"
The woman tilted her head. Her voice came low, slow, teasing:
"You're soldiers, right? Only twenty? I expected more…"
That made them laugh.
"Feisty one, huh? "Another chimed in. "We like feisty. You'll be a real treat."
She smiled.
Just slightly.
The hood fell back, revealing her face — calm, cold, predatory.
And in one smooth motion, she pulled out her twin khopesh blades, their crescent curves dripping fresh crimson.
The ground beneath her already stained.
"Oh, you'll feast, alright."
She moved with inhumane speed, slashing through them head to toe — no hesitation, no sound.
The air filled with red.
Their screams? Silenced with single strokes across the throat —clean cuts through every larynx.
She was ruthless and devoid of any emotion.
Just pure madness flickering in her eyes. Eyes that weren't just killing — they were feeding on the carnage.
Then she stopped.
In a single, bone-splitting step, she planted her foot and lunged forward, grabbing the man who had first taunted her.
Her grip crushed his collarbone.
"Enjoying now?" she asked with a devilish grin. "Answer all of my questions — or I'll show you a fate worse than death."
He shook. He begged.
She didn't care.
With a casual snap of her fingers, the alley twisted. The ground beneath them rippled — and the corpses sank into the stone, absorbed like ink into dry parchment.
The street was left squeaky clean. No blood. No noise. No mercy.
She leaned in close.
"Last chance."
And once he broke — once the answers spilled from his mouth like rotten water — she stood, gave him a long, pitiful look, and said nothing.
The ground opened once more.
He was swallowed whole, his face the last thing visible…while his nose still sucked in fresh air.
BEEP BEEP
"All done here. Let's finish up," Nara muttered, wiping the blood clean off her khopesh blades with a cloth torn from one of the corpses.
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, crystal-etched Rune Linker — glowing faintly with pale blue mana.
She tapped in a new sequence, and held it to her lips.
"Front and back sides are cleared. The flanks can move in now."
"I'll share all the intel I picked up — once you've got yours, we finish these bastards."
Without waiting for a reply, she shut the device off and slid it back under her cloak.
The night was still.
But the blood in the walls was already boiling.