Shadows is a group of vultures, though they are different from other vultures in the wastelands as they handle delicate face-to-face deals with the armies of the myriad races.
Although their dealings involve the lower-ranking officers and knights of the aristocrats, this little bit of privilege placed them heads and shoulders above their peers, the peers that struggled to earn recognition from these new masters of the land.
Every lord values their property and resources, and no lord would enjoy the reputation of being merciless and cold to their own. Thus, each lord would also require a group of individuals willing to do the dirty jobs in the dark to benefit those in the light.
Such practices could be found throughout the feudal layers of the seven earldoms, the so-called Seven Nations of the Skysplit era.
From the high throne to the tattered barracks, whatever hands must be kept clean are always clean while the opposite is also true. These lords always search for sharp swords, swords willing to become scapegoats when necessary.
Shadows, as a group of renowned vultures in the wastelands, have been recruited by an official to become the swords in the dark, and if and when necessary, the scapegoats in the light.
The wastelands thought of the resistance army as an opportunity to score contributions and enter the radars of the aristocracy. Alas, they trudged through unaware of what radars they'd stepped into.
The few leaders in this operation of harvesting fresh evil blood hadn't expected their cast to net two unique fish… Well, these two seemed much more than simple children out to see the world.
One of the leaders, recognized by Tu from a distance as the passerby who recruited them, looked over with amazement.
Across the piles of dry corpses on the ground, the two groups stood in confrontation.
On one side, Tu wiped away her sweat, apparent exhaustion on her delicate face as she panted through the mask of shadows concealing her delicate features.
Aza'zel stood next to her, though the perceptive eye would notice how the little girl had kept a distance of half a step behind the former.
On the other side, the leaders stood aloof, flanked by over twenty vultures, their bodies scaled with wounds and torn clothing.
"I didn't expect that girl to be so fierce," spoke the passerby, despite the odd, elusive feeling of being stared at by the little girl.
"You know them, Eddison?"
"Yeah," Eddison answered, "That brat's body gives off a strong pulse of vitality, and I could sense the source energy lingering about his body, so I figured he'd fetch a pretty good quality evil blood here."
Then, Eddison clicked his tongue and added, "I haven't expected the little girl to have compressed all her source energy into her muscles. Other than the excruciating pain, the tension must severely injure her body upon release for a burst of power. Truly incomprehensible!"
"You might have bitten more than you can chew this time, Edd."
Eddison turned to look at the female leader who spoke, and while the rebuttal was on the edge of his tongue, he decided to let it be and laugh awkwardly.
"Well," she touched her exposed chin and said, "You wouldn't mind if I grab them for myself, right? I've been lacking quite capable subordinates as of late."
Even as she spoke, she broke off from the group and sashayed her way through the dry corpses.
Eddison shrugged. "I'd think twice about that if I were you, Mask. That kid had got quite the sharp mouth, plus I owe them 600 points of resources… If you want them alive, you'd have to cover the tab for me."
Mask chuckled while her pace picked up. "A mere 600 points for two extraordinary kids like them? If that's not a bargain, I have no clue what is."
As she moved through the corpses, she kicked up six bean-sized pearls of blood with flowing black miasma swirling within… The six pearls landed in her palm as she hummed, "There, that's 600 points."
Eddison's lips twitched as he glimpsed out the remaining eight evil blood pearls.
Almost two hundred and eighty lay dead to produce fourteen pearls, and that woman claimed six of them just like that, leaving only eight for the group.
"That shameless woman!" Eddison hissed under his breath, though he wouldn't dare speak up his mind.
In some sense, he was held accountable for this mishap and he knew that they only had two choices now.
First, killing these two to keep the operation a secret.
Second, recruiting them into Shadows, turning them into the same sharp sword they are.
Judging from their potential and performance, it'd be such a waste to fall out with them so early on.
By this time, Mask had arrived in front of Aza'zel and Tu, a charming smile displayed on the exposed part of her face.
At first glance, she determined the relationship dynamics between the two, waving her hand to toss the six pearls at Tu while her eyes focused on Aza'zel.
"600 points worth of resources, as promised," Mask spoke softly while crossing her arms. "Now, you little ones have seen something you shouldn't have, so I don't need to explicitly express your current situation, right?"
Her words had barely finished echoing in the air when a gust of wind buzzed by her ears. The next moment, the gray coat draped over Aza'zel's figure fluttered as he scaled the distance between them in no time.
His right-hand reaches into the coat, retrieving one of his double-action revolvers with the muzzle pressure point-blank on the woman's solar plexus.
With a soft click, Aza'zel knocked back the hammer.
Hands steady, the cold metallic muzzle caressed Mask's collarbone as the young boy said, "You were saying?"
From the distance, Eddison gaped, touching his forgotten as he sighed to himself. "That woman never listens! Did she think someone who had such a follower would be an easy target?"
Of course, Aza'zel was bluffing, as he didn't dare pull the trigger under these circumstances. However, he wouldn't let the scene that played out with Wendy Sunflower repeat itself here.
He didn't understand why people found it so appealing to stand so close to him, thinking he wouldn't dare hurt them.
So, before she could respond or open her mouth, the muzzle of his revolver strayed from her chest to her right arm's elbow while the hammer descended in a swift motion.
With a bang, a bullet hole that displayed flesh, blood, and the cracked earth behind took shape in her arm.
Mask's unannounced chuckle was shoved back into her throat with a grunt. She hissed in pain, body more rigid than ever, as the echoes of the gunshot cycle in her mind while sweat poured from her forehead.
As if sensing something, the miasma in the air swarmed in the direction of the wound, pouring into the bullet hole, and slowly assimilating into the bloodstream.
"Let me bandage the wound," Mask spoke, not daring to move her other arm under gunpoint.
Aza'zel said, "Tu!"
Waiting by the side, Tu walked over toward Mask, proceeding to shred the latter's cloth from the robes and wrapping the bullet wound deftly.
Black, wriggling lines extended from the wound all over the woman's arm, almost reaching for her twisted face.
Aza'zel pressed the gun to her chest once again and asked lightly, "I don't need to explicitly express your current situation, right?"