"I knew this would happen, Kieran. Pretentious fool, boasting about being the Akrest Clan's Swordmaster, and now look at you. Kehehe…"
A hunched figure nudged Kieran's corpse with his foot.
Flies had already begun to gather.
At least two hours had passed since his death.
Now, the once-proud warrior was nothing more than a pale, blood-drained body.
"If you're an assassin, act like one. If you're a swordmaster, live like one. Otherwise, this is what happens."
His eyes gleamed with murderous intent, his crooked nose broken multiple times and twisted in various directions.
A deep scar ran across his face, evidence of a blade that had once slashed through his left cheek, leaving the wound crudely stitched.
He was Ezekiel, the Leader of Midnight Celestial Pavilion, an elite assassin unit under the Akrest Clan.
A disciple of the legendary Shadow Lord, he carried a reputation as the Shadow's Sole Blade.
