Rain poured relentlessly from the ink-black sky, blurring the edges of the world into a swirl of shadows and glistening reflections. The rhythmic patter of water on the streets masked the faint sounds of bustling life, casting an eerie backdrop over the alley.

Under the veil of midnight, Lyra crouched on the rooftop's edge, undisturbed by the weather. Peering through her rifle's scope, she aimed at an ornate building across slick, neon-lit streets—a stronghold of criminal influence.

Whispers in shadowed corners spoke of his ruthlessness and ambition, fueling Lyra's resolve. For her, morality had become abstract, drowned out by harsh realities where trust was a luxury and betrayal a constant companion.

As she waited patiently, Lyra's mind briefly wandered to fragments of her past—a childhood lost to violence, mentors who shaped her into a weapon rather than nurturing a life.

She harbored no regrets; after all, they had been the ones who accepted her despite her past.

Yet, deep within her heart lay a weariness, a profound exhaustion from a life that had stripped everything away from her.

The door clicked below, snapping her back to the present. It swung open in eerie silence, revealing a faint figure against distant streetlights. Her target was on the move.

With practiced ease, Lyra adjusted her position, aligning her aim as her finger tightening around the trigger.

*Blast*

A shot rang out, cutting through the rain, resulting the target fell, life extinguished instantly.

'Done. Perfectly.' 

As she prepared to depart, a sudden movement caught her eye–a glint of steel in the darkness.

*Bang*

Before she could react, pain exploded through her chest, a searing agony that stole her breath. Blood mingled with rainwater as she staggered back, her rifle slipping from nerveless fingers.

*Bang*

*Bang*

Another gunshots tore through her side with brutal force. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Lyra fought to stay upright, clutching her wound with one hand while reaching for her dagger with the other.

"Foolish assassin," a voice taunted from the shadows, dripping with malice. The figure emerged, looming over her with predatory grace. "Did you think you could escape your fate?"

"That's your last task. You've been discarded," he added with a smirk.

Lyra paused, a self-pitying laugh escaping her lips. Behind her cool demeanor, pain churned. With a steadying breath, she managed a defiant glare.

"You'll have to do better than that," she retorted, her voice strained but unwavering. "Death... doesn't come so easily for me."

The assailant chuckled darkly, a cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. "Perhaps not tonight," he conceded, lifting his weapon for another shot.

Before he could pull the trigger, Lyra lunged forward with surprising speed, her dagger slicing through the air and sinking into his side, eliciting a grunt of surprise and pain.

"Argh!! How dare you?!"

He quickly fired another shot, the bullet tearing through her body, but Lyra ignored the pain and the blood rushing from the wound. Clenching her teeth, she focused on continuing her dagger's maneuver, carving numerous marks into his flesh.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice low and venomous. "I've survived worse than you."

Bloodied and fierce, she pressed her advantage, targeting vulnerable spots—joints, ribs, abdomen—with calculated precision. Each thrust forced grimaces and grunts from her opponent, who struggled to defend against her relentless assault.

"You... you'll pay for this," he gasped, trying to muster his strength.

"Promises, promises," she mocked, a cold smile playing on her lips. "But we both know how this ends."

The assailant faltered, his defenses weakening under Lyra's relentless assault. With a final, fatal blow, she brought him to the brink of collapse, his lifeless body crumpling at her feet.

Breathing heavily, adrenaline surging, Lyra chuckled grimly. Standing over him, she whispered, "Who's dying tonight, huh?" Her voice, tinged with exhaustion and triumph, echoed through the silence.

Her body drenched in blood, she turned away, leaving behind the aftermath of her deadly confrontation.

However, with each labored breath, the world around her blurred. The once sharp edges of the alleyway turned into a haze.

'Ugh, am I losing too much blood?'

She groaned weakly, muscles protesting as she sank to the ground. Leaning against the cold wall, its rough surface scraped her back as the stone's chill seeped through her clothes, contrasting sharply with the feverish heat of her wounds.

Her resolve faltered, a whisper of doubt creeping into her mind. 'Is this truly the end?'

She couldn't be sure. But she could feel her strength waned and darkness closed in around her.