The streets were dark, dimly lit by a partial moon lacking half its entirety, its silver glow barely illuminating the forms of Ryan and Ruck, who threaded through the streets purposefully, their footsteps against the cobblestone a repeated disruption to the silence.
It was a considerably cool night, and yet Ruck's face was covered in sweat, his hands trembling slightly as he walked beside Ryan. He had waited for this night for so long, so much so that he had begun losing faith in the possibility of justice. Yet here he was, walking alongside the man who would deliver it.
A man whose countenance greatly contrasted his own, steps measured and deliberate, eyes indiscernible, and a stride that lacked the slightest hint of hesitation—a man on a mission. A man who did not seem the slightest bit worried at challenging six others.
There could be no doubt that Ryan was a murderer; however, he had never killed anyone while as clear-headed as he currently was. No murder of his had been as premeditated as this, yet he exuded the confidence of a seasoned assassin, of a killer with a thousand souls to his name.
At the outskirts of the town, a building, well distant away from the others, rose—a structure noticeably more luxurious than the rest of the town's residences.
"This is it?" Ryan's voice whispered. This was perfect; the sounds and noise wouldn't reach the other townsfolk.
"Yes, sir," Ruck replied as they stood at the front of the door. He looked around to find another entrance in. "Should we try to get in through the win-" Ruck's words were disrupted by the sound of loud banging.
As he turned around, his gaze met Ryan, banging on the wooden door aggressively. Ruck just stared in total confusion. "What are you doing?" Ruck tried to inquire, but in response, Ryan just banged on the door again.
Suddenly, with a loud creak, the door swung open, revealing one of the men from the bar—dark-haired and slender, now visible with his armor taken off—who seemed to have just woken up from a deep slumber.
"Who the hell are you, and why are you banging on our door at this time?" The man bellowed in anger. Ryan met his gaze for a few moments before turning to Ruck.
"Come on," Ryan gestured as he walked past the angry man to enter the residence, Ruck following behind him.
Walking into the house, he saw the imperial foot guards slumbering on the floor and chairs in deep sleep. He looked around, identifying if every single one of his targets was present.
"Good, you're all here," Ryan said as he walked to the middle of the room. The man who he had left at the door, utterly confused at what was happening, and the fact he was still slightly drunk and sleepy did nothing to aid it.
"Are you crazy? Do you know where you are?" The dark-haired man slammed the door, walking toward Ryan.
"Wake your friends up; it's best if we begin early," Ryan stretched his hands towards Ruck. "Gloves, please," he asked as Ruck pulled out one of the pair of dark gloves and handed it to him.
"Two of you must be drunk," the slender, dark-haired man, still shocked by their audacity, remained a bit cautious as he hesitated in his approach. He walked over to the side of the room, grabbing a sword that lay on the wall.
"Seems the both of you'll only understand when you are bleeding," the man raised the sword.
"Since you won't wake them up," Ryan pulled the dark glove up his right hand, stretching his fingers outwards, the gloves fitting perfectly. "I'll do it for you."
Ryan's open palms faced outward, fingers splayed. Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the snoring of the guards. Then, with a hiss of displaced air, a dark circle pulsed to life on his palm, its patterns swirling like smoke tendrils. A strangled gasp escaped Ruck's lips, mirrored by the man at his side.
Without warning, the circle erupted. A deafening shriek tore through the chamber, accompanied by a burst of energy so dark it seemed to suck the light from the room. It slammed into the far wall, leaving a smoking crater where stone once stood. Debris rained down in a clatter, dust motes swirling in the aftermath.
[Black burst]
The rest of the legion foot guards scrambled to their feet, woken up by the chaos. Even Ruck and the dark-haired man, thrown prone by the blast, couldn't help but stare in stunned disbelief. The air still crackled with raw power, the acrid scent of melted stone burning their nostrils.
"M-Magic?" Ruck finally managed, his voice a mere whisper in the stunned silence.
"Good, you're all awake," Ryan declared as everyone stared at him in shock.