They Call Themselves, Assassin slayers
Deep within the Black Veil's fortress…
The chamber was silent, lit only by the dull red glow of floating aether lamps. Stone walls lined with ancient symbols pulsed faintly, the air heavy with the weight of authority and fear.
Four assassins—bruised, bloodied, and shaking—knelt before a tall figure draped in black robes. His presence was suffocating. This was the Vice Archon.
"You failed, huh?" he said quietly, voice cold and flat. "Then you'll simply face your punishment. That's all."
He turned, cloak sweeping as he began to walk away.
"That's not all!" one of the assassins blurted out.
The Vice Archon stopped.
"I… I don't think they're just four," the assassin continued, lowering his head. "I think… they're a group. A whole network."
"A group?" the Vice Archon asked, turning back slowly. "Explain."
The second assassin raised his head. "They called themselves… the Assassin Slayers."
The words echoed through the chamber.
"Assassin Slayers, eh?" the Vice Archon repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. He stepped forward, fingers curled behind his back. "So… they're a little organization now. How charming."
He stared down at the four kneeling men, his expression unreadable. "It still doesn't matter. You were sent to bring me the heads of four. Not rumors. Not excuses. And yet… you stand here empty-handed."
One of the assassins began to speak. "Yes, but we're prep—"
Before the sentence could finish, the Vice Archon moved.
In a blink, two blades sang through the air.
Their heads hit the stone floor a second later, followed by four splashes of blood erupting from their necks. The bodies slumped forward, twitching once, then lay still.
The chamber remained silent. Cold.
The Vice Archon stood motionless, wiping the edge of his blade on one of the robes.
"Assassin Slayers…" he whispered.
He turned and walked into the shadows.
"Interesting."
The chamber was still soaked in silence, save for the slow drip of blood pooling beneath the fallen assassins.
The Vice Archon lowered his blade, his voice cutting through the stillness.
"Come forth."
Two figures stepped from the shadows, cloaked in obsidian armor, faces hidden beneath dark veils. They moved with eerie grace, as if weightless.
"Take care of the bodies," the Vice Archon ordered, his tone void of emotion. "You," he pointed to the one on the left. "And you," he gestured to the right. "Send word to the Eye of the Silence."
A subtle shift passed between the two figures—acknowledgment.
"Tell them I require their presence," the Vice Archon continued, eyes gleaming beneath the flickering red light. "Immediately."
Without a word, the two figures bowed and vanished into opposite corridors—one dragging the corpses behind him, the other already preparing the encrypted message.
The Vice Archon turned his back to the carnage, hands clasped behind him as he stared at the ancient symbol etched into the wall before him.
"Assassin Slayers… let's see how far this game goes."
At Lucas' House
Blades clashed under a pale sky.
Liam ducked low, sweeping the legs out from an armored attacker, then rose with a swift spin-kick to the jaw. The enemy crumpled before hitting the ground. Kaela moved like a storm beside him—elbowing one assassin in the gut, then driving a knee into their chest.
Lucas barked out instructions from behind, sending controlled bursts of force toward those who tried to flank them.
the perfect formation shattered, momentum stolen.
"We've got them on the run!" Kaela called out, eyes gleaming.
Liam nodded, exhaling as he stepped forward. His senses sharpened. Every movement, every breath of the enemy, felt amplified. He struck again—an uppercut powered by aether. The hit landed with a bone-crunching thud, sending the assassin flying.
But just as the last enemy staggered back, a blur darted across his vision.
He turned—
A flash of steel—
Then—
He woke up.
Gasping, Liam sat up in the dark, heart pounding.
His room was quiet. Cool night air drifted through the slightly open window. The moon hung still in the sky.
He looked around—no blood, no chaos, no assassins.
"…Just a dream," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
But it had felt so real. The precision of their moves. The clarity of Kaela's voice. The sheer presence of Dreck.
He sat there for a moment, wide awake, his eyes scanning the shadows.
Why did it feel... real??