The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains of the Avalorne mansion. While the village still lay in slumber, Vergil was already awake, his sharp eyes focused on the distant forest beyond the window. His mind worked methodically as he prepared for today's training.
"Today, she learns the art of long-range assassination," Vergil muttered to himself, his breath visible in the cool morning air. "Her instincts are sharp, but precision takes more than instinct. It takes patience."
He moved with quiet efficiency, setting up small metal targets on top of the mansion. Each one was enchanted with a faint magical glow, allowing him to track each successful hit. His next destination was the forest, where a nearby hill provided the perfect vantage point for sniping practice.
Later that morning, the scent of a hearty cream stew filled the kitchen. Vergil stirred the pot with the precision of a craftsman, tasting it to ensure it was perfect. Moments later, the sound of soft footsteps echoed behind him.
"Morning, Doctor," Freya said, her voice drowsy, ears twitching as she rubbed her eyes. Her wolf-like tail swayed lazily behind her.
"Morning. Eat quickly. We have a long day ahead," Vergil replied, his tone direct but not unkind. He served two bowls of cream stew and sat down, already halfway through his portion. Freya blinked, noticing how fast he ate.
"You're in a hurry today, huh?" she asked, taking her seat.
"I am," Vergil replied flatly, finishing his meal and cleaning his plate. "After breakfast, we head to the forest. Today, I'm teaching you how to forge weapons using magic."
Freya's eyes widened with excitement. "Magic forging?! Like making weapons from nothing?"
"Yes, but it's not as simple as snapping your fingers. It requires concentration, precision, and understanding the material you're working with. Get ready."
Her tail swished with excitement, and she scarfed down her meal in record time.
After break fast, Vergil take Freya to Forest. The forest was alive with the distant sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Standing atop a small clearing, Vergil faced Freya with his arms crossed. His expression was as sharp as ever.
"Listen carefully, Freya. The first step to becoming a true sniper assassin is to understand your weapon. It is not simply a tool — it is an extension of your will. You must know every part of it, from its weight to its balance."
He stepped forward and raised his hand, his palm glowing with a faint blue light. A swirl of silver particles gathered in the air, fusing into the shape of a long, sleek blade. But with a flick of his wrist, the particles dispersed, and instead, a compact dagger appeared in his hand.
"This is the process of forging with magic," he said, handing the dagger to Freya. "But our goal today is not a dagger. It's this."
Vergil reached into his cloak and pulled out a blueprint—a simple but detailed diagram of a sniper rifle. It included every part: the barrel, trigger, scope, magazine, and even a chamber for magical energy.
"This is a magical sniper rifle, and you're going to make your own version."
Freya's eyes widened, her gaze darting between the blueprint and Vergil. "I can… I can actually make one of these?"
"With the right material, yes. Today, you'll learn to create 'Titanium Delta,' a metal unlike any other. Stronger than steel, sharper than any blade, but a third of the weight. It's perfect for weapons."
Vergil stepped back, his voice firm but encouraging. "Now focus. Close your eyes and visualize it. See the rifle in your mind. Every detail, every component. Feel its weight in your hands, imagine its cold touch, hear the click of its parts locking into place."
Freya closed her eyes, her breathing steady. Blue mana surrounded her hands as she followed Vergil's instructions. She visualized each part — the sleek, silver barrel, the grip lined with runic engravings, and the dark black scope. Sparks of magic swirled around her hands.
"Focus, Freya. The moment your focus wavers, the structure will collapse," Vergil's voice echoed.
The mana glow brightened, and before long, metal began to form. The barrel took shape first, then the frame, and finally the scope. Freya opened her eyes and gasped at the result.
Her sniper rifle was a masterpiece. Its silver frame shimmered with black runes etched along its sides, and its sleek, deadly design radiated a quiet but lethal energy.
"Doctor… I did it," she said, her voice filled with awe.
"No," Vergil replied with a small smile. "We've only just begun."
With Freya's rifle in hand, they climbed the hill near the forest. From here, the Avalorne mansion could be seen in the distance. The metal targets on the rooftop shimmered faintly in the sun.
Vergil pulled out a small object from his pouch — a rectangular device with a lens. He placed it over his eye, the runes on its surface glowing faintly.
"This is a Sniping Scope," he explained, adjusting the lens. "With this, I can track your shots. Every time you fire, I'll see the bullet's trajectory, and I'll correct your mistakes."
Freya blinked. "So, you'll be able to see every shot I take?"
"Correct. Now, lay prone."
Freya followed his instruction, dropping into a prone position with her sniper rifle aimed downrange. Her eyes focused on the distant targets.
"There are three stances for sniping," Vergil explained, crouching next to her. "Standing, crouching, and prone. Each has its pros and cons."
He motioned to the horizon. "Standing is fast but unstable. Crouching gives more stability but exposes you. Prone is the most stable but reduces your mobility. Each stance serves a purpose, depending on the mission."
Freya nodded. "Got it. So when do I shoot?"
"Right now," Vergil replied. "Line up the shot. Steady your breathing. Exhale as you pull the trigger."
Freya inhaled deeply, then exhaled, her fingers gently squeezing the trigger. A soft magical hum vibrated through the air as the shot flew through the sky with a faint blue trail.
Vergil's Sniping Scope tracked the bullet. "Too high. Adjust your aim down two degrees."
Freya nodded, correcting her aim. "Understood."
She pulled the trigger again. This time, the bullet struck one of the rooftop targets with a loud "PING!"
"Bullseye," Vergil muttered, watching the impact through the scope. "Now, do it again. I want you to hit every target on that roof."
For hours, Freya trained. She fired from standing, crouching, and prone stances. Vergil observed every shot, correcting her form and adjusting her approach. Her hits became more consistent as she adjusted for wind, distance, and even slight shifts in elevation.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Freya's arms were trembling, and sweat dripped from her brow. Her hands ached from the repeated recoil, but her eyes shined with pride.
"How did I do, Doctor?" she asked, wiping her forehead.
Vergil gazed at the rooftop through his Sniping Scope. Every target had a hole in it, some with perfect headshots, others center mass. He lowered the scope and turned to her.
"You did well, Freya. Better than I expected."
Her tail wagged at the praise, her exhaustion briefly forgotten.
"But remember," Vergil continued, his tone serious, "this is only the beginning. Being a Sniping Assassin is not just about hitting targets. It's about patience, control, and choosing the right moment to act. If you miss, there are no second chances."
Freya nodded, her eyes filled with renewed resolve. "I understand, Doctor. I'll master it."
Vergil placed a hand on her head, ruffling her hair slightly. "I know you will."
As they walked back to the mansion under the glow of the setting sun, Vergil's thoughts turned toward the future.
"A Spymistress… someone to oversee Avalorne's information network…" he thought. "It's time I begin scouting for recruits."
His eyes glanced down at Freya, her wolf-like ears twitching as she hummed softly to herself.
"But first, let's see how far you can go, Freya."
The sun dipped behind the distant treeline as Vergil and Freya returned to the Avalorne mansion. The echoes of their intense training still lingered in the air, the faint hum of magical energy clinging to their clothes. Freya's silver sniper rifle rested on her back, her arms aching but her heart filled with pride.
"That was a good session today, Doctor," Freya said, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her wolf-like ears twitched, and her tail swayed lazily. "I can already feel the difference. My shots are more precise."
"Precision comes with repetition, Freya," Vergil replied, his eyes sharp and calculating as he scanned their surroundings. "But precision is useless if your resolve wavers. Remember that."
As they reached the mansion's entrance, something unusual caught Vergil's eye — a lone white pigeon perched on the window sill of his study. It was too still, too patient. A thin parchment was tied to its leg with a red silk ribbon bearing the emblem of the Imperial Seal of Empress Eliza II.
Vergil's eyes narrowed. "We have a guest."
Inside the dimly lit study, Vergil moved with fluid precision. His gloved fingers untied the ribbon and unraveled the message. The faint scent of rose oil clung to the parchment — the signature fragrance of the Empress. His eyes scanned the message with a cold, analytical gaze.
To Vergil Ragnaros,
I have received troubling reports regarding an orphanage managed by a group of men involved in the exploitation of young girls. One of my soldiers witnessed the sale of several of these girls to Count Vayne, where they were to be used as tools for his depravity. I do not need to explain how unacceptable this is. Investigate, gather evidence, and rescue the girls if necessary.
I grant you full authority in this matter. Count Vayne is to be dealt with accordingly, but I require him captured — alive, if possible.
— Empress Eliza II
Vergil's eyes flickered with something sharp, something cold. "Exploitation... trafficking..." he muttered, his tone laced with a chilling calmness. "So, Count Vayne finally shows his true face."
He glanced at the second document that accompanied the message. It was a pamphlet from the orphanage — simple, colorful, and filled with soft, inviting imagery. Smiling children, caring "fathers," and comforting slogans like "A Place of Love and Growth."
Vergil's eyes darkened. "I remember this place," he said, his mind racing. "We passed it on the way to Avalorne. I considered visiting to recruit potential students... but it seems fate has shown me a different truth."
He turned the pamphlet over, revealing a handwritten note from one of the Empress's informants.
"Spotted suspicious men taking young girls out at night. No sign of them returning. Soldiers reported seeing wagons bearing Count Vayne's crest."
Vergil's jaw clenched, his fingers crumpling the paper slightly before he regained control. He turned to Freya, handing her the Empress's letter.
"Read it," he ordered.
Freya read the letter carefully. Her eyes widened, and her ears flattened against her head as a low growl escaped her throat. Her tail bristled in agitation. "They're hurting children... and selling them? Monsters!"
"Indeed," Vergil replied, his voice a cold whisper. "It's worse than that. They are using an orphanage — a place meant to protect and nurture — as a front for human trafficking. The Count is untouchable by normal means, but we are not bound by the rules of nobility."
His cold blue eyes met Freya's fiery golden gaze.
"Prepare yourself, Freya. This mission is not a lesson — it is the real thing. We are not dealing with bandits or soldiers. These men will be paranoid, desperate, and cruel. If you falter, you die."
Freya straightened her posture, eyes filled with determination. "Understood, Doctor. I won't hesitate."
Vergil's lips curled into a faint, approving smile. "Then prepare yourself. Get your gear from the armory. You have ten minutes."
Freya rushing to mansion's underground Armory, and the place was dimly lit by glowing yellow torch embedded into the stone walls. Freya stepped in, her steps steady, her breathing calm. Her eyes scanned the racks of weapons — daggers, swords, short blades, throwing knives, and even specialized magical ammunition.
She went straight to her personal locker, opened it, and grabbed her black light armor. It was lighter than standard armor, designed for speed and agility. The material was resistant to blades and arrows, but most importantly, it didn't hinder her movements. Her sniper rifle, freshly enchanted, lay on a custom rack. She slung it over her back and secured her small utility belt filled with smoke bombs, flash pellets, and a set of enchanted needles laced with sleeping poison.
Her reflection stared back at her in the polished surface of a steel shield. Her wolf-like ears twitched with resolve, her eyes sharp like a predator hunting its prey.
"Monsters deserve no mercy," she muttered to herself. "No mercy at all."
Meanwhile, Vergil stood in his personal armory room. He reached for his black light armor, his fingers running along the edges, checking for any signs of wear. His equipment was meticulously maintained — every buckle polished, every blade sharpened.
He fastened his black cloak over his shoulders, its edges enchanted to shift like a living shadow. From the weapon rack, he retrieved his European-style twin sword and his trusted other gear, both secured at his back. His belt bore multiple throwing knives, enchanted smoke bombs, and the small vial of "Silent Night" poison dart — one of his deadliest creations.
Vergil stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes cold as ice. He saw not just a doctor but a predator, a shadow of death.
"Count Vayne… you will wish for the mercy I never offer."
Freya stood at attention in the main hall. Her heart pounded with anticipation, but her eyes were filled with purpose. Vergil approached her, his eyes sharp, his presence suffocating.
"Listen closely, Freya," Vergil said, his voice low but commanding. "This mission has three objectives. First, gather evidence of the orphanage's crimes. We cannot rely on accusations alone. Second, we will adopt some of them or all of them. Their safety is non-negotiable but is also server as reactional of their movement. Third is captured the chairman of orphanage alive and send them to authority, i believe the chairman is just like bandit "
"If they ressist?" Freya asked, her voice steady.
"broke them down," Vergil said coldly, "then give it to informant with evidence and testimony from chairman."
He handed Freya a small device, size nothing more than palm. "This is a communicator device. With this we can talk to each other, i already set the channel so only us can talk"
Freya nodded, putting the device to her pocket. "Understood, Doctor."
Vergil turned, his eyes fixed on the forest path that led toward the orphanage. His fingers tapped the hilt of his sword, his mind already calculating every possibility.
Freya stood at attention in the main hall. Her heart pounded with anticipation, but her eyes were filled with purpose. Vergil approached her, his eyes sharp, his presence suffocating.
"Listen closely, Freya," Vergil said, his voice low but commanding. "This mission has three objectives. First, gather evidence of the orphanage's crimes. We cannot rely on accusations alone. Second, locate and rescue any captives. Their safety is non-negotiable. Third, if the Count is present, he is to be captured alive. But if he resists, do not hesitate."
"If he dies?" Freya asked, her voice steady.
"If he dies," Vergil said coldly, "then it must look like an accident."
He handed Freya a small device with size of palm. "This is our communicator. With this device we can communicated and coordinating much better. I am already set the channel so we can talk and press the button and hold on right side if you want to talk."
Freya nodded, putting the device on her armor. "Understood, Doctor."
Vergil turned, his eyes fixed on the forest path that led toward the orphanage. His fingers tapped the hilt of his sword, his mind already calculating every possibility.
"We move at nightfall," he said, his tone as cold as the steel on his back. "Shadows are our greatest allies. No one will see us coming."
The sun vanished, replaced by the glow of a pale silver moon. The air was still. Not a single bird chirped. It was the perfect night for a hunt.
Vergil and Freya moved like phantoms through the forest. Their movements were soundless, the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs avoided with absolute precision.
As they approached the orphanage, Vergil crouched behind a bush, his eyes scanning the building. The faint light of lanterns flickered in the windows. Shadows moved inside — men laughing, drinking, unaware that death had arrived.
Vergil's blue eyes glowed faintly as he whispered. "Freya, listen. Watch how I move. Observe how I kill. Learn from it. Tonight, we walk the path of shadows."
Freya's golden eyes flickered with resolve. "Yes, Doctor. I'm ready."
Vergil's lips curled into a predatory smile.
"Then let the hunt begin."
The two figures melted into the shadows, and in the still night air, only silence remained. But soon, the silence would be shattered — by the echoes of fear, by the whispers of death, and by the quiet, fading breath of those who lived in sin.
No one escapes the shadows.
The moon hung high in the sky, its pale glow filtering through the twisted branches of the forest. The faint rattle of a carriage echoed in the distance, fading as it moved further away from the orphanage. The silhouette of the building stood like a silent monolith, surrounded by the stillness of the night.
Vergil crouched behind a thicket of trees, his eyes locked on the departing carriage. His blue eyes glowed faintly like sharpened ice. Beside him, Freya's ears twitched in response to the distant sounds, her sharp instincts on high alert.
"Tch," Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Someone left in a hurry. No doubt they're moving something... or someone."
Freya's eyes followed the carriage. "Should we chase them, Doctor?" she asked, her voice low but firm.
Vergil's gaze lingered on the carriage tracks for a moment longer before shaking his head. "No. If we chase them now, we risk losing the bigger target. Patience, Freya. The hunt is most effective when prey feel safe."
"Understood," Freya nodded, tightening her grip on the sniper rifle slung over her back. Her golden eyes glowed faintly, filled with a mixture of determination and restraint.
"Focus. We're moving in," Vergil whispered. "Remember the plan. No one sees us. No one hears us."
Freya's ears perked up. "No witnesses."
Vergil's eyes narrowed as he turned toward the orphanage. "No survivors, if necessary."
The orphanage's front door was old, made of aged oak and reinforced with iron. Its locks were rudimentary — child's play for someone like Vergil. He crouched at the door, producing his lockpicking kit. The faint click-click of the picks echoed softly, blending into the ambient rustling of leaves in the wind.
"Five pins. Standard lock. Sloppy craftsmanship," Vergil muttered as his fingers worked with mechanical precision. Within moments, the lock turned with a faint click, and the door creaked open.
Vergil stepped inside, his movements as silent as the drifting shadows around him. Freya followed closely, her steps as quiet as a stalking wolf. The air inside the orphanage was damp and heavy, carrying the faint smell of mildew and faint traces of something far worse — sweat and fear.
The two assassins exchanged glances. "Main office first," Vergil whispered, his eyes scanning the dark hall. "We need ledgers, documents, anything that ties them to Count Vayne."
They moved in unison, their movements fluid and methodical. Freya's eyes darted around, her heightened senses picking up every creak of wood, every distant scuttle of mice behind the walls.
The main office was a cramped, dimly lit room cluttered with stacks of paper, ledgers, and old, stained furniture. On the far end of the room, a desk sat covered with open books, quills, and spilled ink. Above it hung a large portrait of the orphanage's owner, Audlik, a pudgy, middle-aged man with a face that radiated false kindness.
Vergil stared at the portrait, his eyes cold. "A mask of virtue to hide a monster," he muttered. "Typical."
He scanned the room, his eyes narrowing in on a locked drawer on the desk. Without hesitation, he knelt and pulled out his lockpicks once more. Freya moved to the bookshelf, running her fingers across the spines of the ledgers, searching for anything unusual.
"Old ledgers... donation records… supply purchases..." Freya whispered as she pulled one out. Her eyes narrowed. "Doctor, the food supplies listed here don't match the population of the orphanage. There's no way they're feeding all the children with this amount of grain and meat."
"They're pocketing the money," Vergil replied as he unlocked the drawer. "Or worse, they're selling it elsewhere."
The drawer slid open, revealing a black leather-bound journal. Its cover was marked with the name Audlik. Vergil flipped it open, his eyes darting across the scribbled entries.
"June 4th: Acquired five strays from the lower district. Ages range from 7 to 11. Sent four to the textile room. One is being... disciplined."
Vergil's eyes sharpened as he read on.
"June 10th: Received a request from Count Vayne. Payment confirmed. Special order — prefers girls 10 to 14. Arranged delivery in two weeks."
Vergil's grip tightened on the journal, his knuckles turning white. His breathing was steady, but Freya could see the quiet rage brewing beneath his calm exterior.
"They're trafficking them..." Freya's voice was a low growl. Her ears flattened, and her tail bristled in anger. "These animals."
Vergil's gaze remained cold. "No, Freya. Not animals. Animals kill to survive. These are men. They kill and exploit for greed and pleasure."
Back at the mansion, Vergil sat at his desk, his pen gliding across a sheet of parchment. His eyes remained cold and focused, every word a weapon sharper than any blade. The letter was addressed to the Empress Eliza II.
To Her Majesty, Empress Eliza II,
The situation is worse than anticipated. The orphanage is not merely an exploitative labor facility. It is a den of human trafficking. The journal of the owner, Audlik, contains entries confirming child abductions and sales directly linked to Count Vayne. Evidence of physical abuse and malnourishment was also discovered.
I humbly request a meeting with your informant to ensure no other orphanages are involved. I will handle Audlik and his associates, as well as Count Vayne by the law of Empire.
This world does not forgive monsters.
— Vergil Ragnaros
Vergil poured red wax onto the folded letter and pressed the Brotherhood of Shadows seal into it. As the wax cooled, Vergil tied the letter to the leg of the same pigeon that had delivered the Empress's message.
"Deliver this to the palace," Vergil said as he released the pigeon into the night sky.
He watched it vanish into the darkness, his gaze distant and calculating. Freya approached from behind, her eyes filled with silent understanding.
"So... what's the plan, Doctor?" she asked.
Vergil turned, his gaze as cold as the void itself. "Tomorrow, we knock on the front door."
Freya's ears perked up, her tail swishing with interest. "The front door?"
"Yes," Vergil replied with a faint smirk. "As a man seeking to adopt."
Freya's eyes lit up with realization. "We'll see their true faces."
"Correct," Vergil said, his eyes sharp with purpose. "And when their masks fall, we will drag them into the abyss."
As the shadows of the night deepened, Vergil gazed at the horizon. His mind was clear, his path set. Tomorrow, the predator would walk through the front door, and none of them would leave unscathed.
"Monsters think they're safe behind closed doors," Vergil muttered, his voice as sharp as a dagger. "But we are the shadow that walks through them."
The first rays of sunlight broke through the fog-laden forest, casting golden streaks over the grand mansion of Avalorne. Birds chirped, their songs calm and unaware of the approaching storm.
A faint clop-clop echoed as hooves beat against the dirt path leading to the mansion. A group of armored soldiers, led by a broad-shouldered man with a thick, grizzled beard, dismounted their horses at the front entrance. The man's sharp eyes scanned the mansion's exterior, calculating every potential entry and exit point.
"This is it," the man grunted, his tone firm but respectful. "Stay alert."
The soldiers straightened their postures. Their presence radiated authority, but none dared move ahead of the man in charge.
Inside the mansion, Freya's sharp ears twitched. She was already up, sharpening her dagger in the armory. "Company's here, Doctor," she called out casually.
Vergil stood by the window, his gaze locked on the approaching group. His sky-blue eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor unchanged. "Looks like the Empress sent her wolves," he muttered as he walked toward the entrance. His light armor shifted silently beneath his cloak, each step precise, deliberate.
When he opened the door, his gaze locked onto the leader of the soldiers. The man strode forward with an air of authority. His dark eyes met Vergil's with the sharpness of a man who had seen battle one too many times.
"You're Vergil Ragnaros, correct?" the man asked, his deep voice steady but firm. "Captain Brentrand, Royal Guard of the Empress. I'm here under her orders."
"An unexpected guest," Vergil replied, folding his arms. "But not an unwelcome one."
Captain Brentrand snorted, stepping forward with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "The Empress doesn't waste time with pleasantries. She received your letter. I'm here to ensure the capture of Audlik, his lackeys, and Count Vayne."
"Hmph, quick response," Vergil remarked with a slight smile. "I expected it to take longer, but I'm not one to complain."
Vergil invited Captain Brentrand and two of his lieutenants into his study. The air inside was calm, but the air of strategy and preparation was undeniable. Freya leaned casually against a wall, watching the soldiers with her arms crossed and her golden eyes keenly observing their every move.
Captain Brentrand pulled off his gauntlets and dropped them onto the table, his rough hands spread over the wood. "I read your report. I'm guessing you have a plan for how this will play out."
Vergil leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Not a guess. A certainty." His eyes shifted toward Freya. "Freya, explain."
Freya's ears perked up as she stepped forward. Her gaze moved between the soldiers, ensuring she had their full attention. She spoke with confidence, her tail swaying behind her as she explained.
"The operation will be executed in four phases," Freya began, her voice steady and clear. "Phase One: Doctor Vergil and I will head to the orphanage as planned. We will pose as prospective adopters seeking to take custody of some of the girls. Our goal is to observe the staff, learning the habit, and obtain key evidence."
Captain Brentrand raised an eyebrow. "Why not just steal the ledgers last night? You had access, didn't you?"
Vergil tilted his head slightly, a faint grin forming. "If we did that, they'd know they were compromised. Audlik would burn all remaining evidence and flee with the children. Our goal isn't just to gather evidence — it's to make sure none of them escape."
Brentrand grunted, nodding in understanding. "Clever. No signs of a break-in means no panic."
"Exactly," Vergil confirmed. "We need them to feel safe. Arrogant."
Freya continued, her eyes sharp with focus. "Phase Two: After our visit, Audlik and his two assistants will likely prepare for their 'delivery.' We'll ensure they believe everything is normal. That's when you, Captain, will block the road leading away from the orphanage. You will have full authority to stop the carriage under the pretense of an inspection."
One of Brentrand's lieutenants spoke up. "What if they resist?"
Freya's eyes darkened. "Then you do what you must." Her tone was cold, like frost creeping over a battlefield. "These men are traffickers. No mercy is required."
Captain Brentrand nodded firmly. "Understood. We'll have them pinned before they reach the destination."
"Phase Three," Freya continued. Her eyes burned with resolve. "This one is more dangerous." She glanced at Vergil before turning back to Brentrand. "Count Vayne will be expecting a 'delivery.' We will give him one."
Captain Brentrand's brow furrowed. "How do you plan to get close to him?"
Freya's gaze hardened, her eyes like molten gold. "I'll go as one of the girls."
Silence filled the room for a moment. Brentrand's lieutenants looked at her in surprise.
"Absolutely not," one of them said. "It's too risky."
"It's necessary," Freya replied without hesitation. "They'll never expect it. I can use illusion magic to mask my ears and tail. The moment I'm inside, I'll signal you, Captain. You and your soldiers will storm the place and capture him before he realizes what's happening."
Brentrand's eyes flickered with doubt, but Vergil raised a hand. "If Freya says she can do it, she can." His tone left no room for argument. "Besides, she won't be alone. We'll have anything for that one so don't worry so much."
Freya smirked. "I'm a wolf, Captain. Don't worry about the foxes."
Brentrand leaned forward, his eyes filled with renewed respect. "Fine. But if I see anything suspicious, I'm calling it off."
"Fair," Freya replied with a grin.
"Phase Four," Freya said as she folded her arms. "Count Vayne won't know what hit him. The moment he's exposed, your soldiers will swarm his estate. Capture everyone — guards, servants, all of them. No one walks away."
Captain Brentrand's eyes narrowed. "And what of Count Vayne?"
Vergil's eyes gleamed like sharpened daggers. "Alive." His tone was filled with venom. "He will answer for his crimes. Publicly."
"A public trial?" Brentrand raised an eyebrow.
Vergil's smile was cold and sharp. "No. A public confession. We will make him scream his sins to the world. No noble blood will protect him from the wrath of the people."
Brentrand sat back, his lips curling into a satisfied grin. "He'll be exposed as a monster. The Empress will see to that."
"Monsters belong in cages," Freya muttered, her eyes distant but focused. "Or graves."
Captain Brentrand and his men prepared to leave. Vergil walked him to the entrance, his eyes gazing into the distance.
"Do you think this plan will work, Assassin?" Brentrand asked, glancing at Vergil.
"It's not about 'thinking,' Captain," Vergil replied, his eyes unwavering. "It's about certainty. Plans change, but precision never falters. We will succeed because failure is not an option."
Brentrand smiled at that. "I see why the Empress trusts you."
"We just Empire Shadow Guard ," Vergil replied coldly. "I never fail."
The Captain mounted his horse and raised a hand. "We'll be ready for Phase Two. I expect that signal."
"You'll have it," Vergil replied.
The soldiers departed, their silhouettes fading into the forest fog. Freya leaned against the doorframe, her eyes on Vergil.
"You sure about all this, Doctor?" she asked, her tail swishing lightly.
Vergil's eyes were locked on the distant orphanage.
"I've never been more sure of anything," he replied, his eyes sharp as blades. "Tonight, the hunters become the hunted."
Freya's grin widened. "Then let the hunt begin."