Seeing his face, Cier quickly recognized him as the leader of the Clemine gang, and the immediate reaction of the gang members confirmed his suspicion.
"Hello, boss," they said in unison, their voices laced with a mix of respect and wariness.
"Um," the bald man, Aron, replied with a curt nod, his sharp eyes scanning the room.
"Boss, why did you call us so urgently here?" one of the members asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, boss, what's the matter?" another chimed in, curiosity and unease evident in his tone.
Aron crossed his arms, his expression unreadable as he stepped further into the room. "I'll explain soon. First, tell me—has anyone seen those two fools who are always late?"
The gang members exchanged confused glances before shaking their heads. "No, boss, they haven't shown up yet," one replied.
"Forget about them; you can fill them in when they come," Aron said dismissively, his tone firm.
He looked around at the gathered members and continued, "I called you all here to tell you this—starting today, you're to go into hiding until I give the order to come out. Understood?"
The gang members exchanged uncertain glances before one of them asked, "But why's that, boss?"
Aron sighed, his expression heavy. "I was informed by a member of the Gale Brotherhood that their gang had a small conflict with a family from the inner city. While the family can't openly move against the Brotherhood, it's easy for them to target small gangs like us." His voice carried a note of frustration as he spoke, his broad shoulders sagging slightly.
"So," he continued, his tone firm again, "all of you must go incognito and hide your identities. If the matter resolves, I'll inform you by placing a black flag atop this building. Until then, keep your heads down."
Listening to their conversation, Cier quickly pieced together the situation. The task to clean up the Clemine gang was nothing more than a show of strength directed at the Gale Brotherhood. It wasn't just this gang—many other small gangs or locations affiliated with the Brotherhood might face purges or suppression in the days to come.
However, this larger game of power struggles had nothing to do with him. His focus remained singular: the task at hand. Cier scanned the room carefully, ensuring that all the remaining members of the Clemine gang were present. Once satisfied, he resolved to finish them all here and now, ending this swiftly and without leaving loose ends.
Cier carefully opened the window just enough to slip through, making as little noise as possible. The dim lighting and the scattered crates inside provided ample cover as he silently entered the room. Most of the gang members were too engrossed in the discussion Aron had initiated to notice anything amiss.
Moving swiftly but cautiously, he positioned himself behind a stack of crates, ensuring he remained hidden. From his vantage point, he scanned the area, mentally mapping the positions of each gang member. He made sure they were all within the range of his threads, roughly 100 meters, as to attack them.
Taking out his dagger, Cier deftly bound it with a thread, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light. With precise control, he guided it silently through the air, targeting a gang member positioned at the farthest edge of his range.
Squash
The dagger pierced through the back of the man's neck, the sound muted but unmistakable. The gang member froze for a brief moment, his body trembling before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.
With the dull thud of the body hitting the floor, every gang member snapped to attention.
"Everyone, get ready! There's an enemy!" shouted Aron, his voice booming with authority. Without hesitation, he pulled out a massive blade concealed beneath his cloak, its edge gleaming faintly in the dim light.
The other gang members reacted swiftly, drawing their own weapons—daggers, short blades, and even clubs—all hidden within their garments. Their movements were tense, their eyes darting around the room, scanning the shadows.
'Three down, nine more to go,' Cier calculated silently, his expression calm and focused.
With a subtle motion of his hand, the threads danced again. Two men standing close together suddenly turned their weapons on each other, their faces contorted in shock and disbelief.
"What are you two bastards doing?!!" Aron roared, his fury shaking the air.
But instead of an answer, he was met with a horrifying sight. Blood erupted from their neck in a crimson stream, their bodies crumpling to the floor in a grotesque heap.
The sudden and bizarre death of the two men sent a wave of panic through the remaining gang members. The atmosphere in the room shifted to one of utter confusion and terror.
"W-what happened, why did they attack each other??" one of the members shouted, his voice trembling with fear.
"I-It looked like they were possessed or something," another one stammered, his eyes wide with dread.
"Shut up, all of you!" their boss, Aron, barked, his voice a mixture of anger and fear. His eyes scanned the room, trying to keep his composure, but the fear was evident.
After hearing Aron's shout, the members quieted down a bit, but the fear and tension in the room remained palpable.
Before they could process what was happening, another chilling sound broke the silence. Two nearby members suddenly turned on each other. One's mace swung, smashing into the other's face with brutal force, while the other's knife slashed across the neck of his attacker.
With a sickening thud, both bodies collapsed to the ground, lifeless. The room was filled with the sounds of their dying breaths, adding to the mounting terror in the air.
'Seven dead, five more to go', thought Cier, coldly observing the falling corpses.
"Get away from each other!!" Aron shouted to the remaining four members.
At his command, the others quickly scrambled to create enough distance between them, their eyes frantically scanning the darkened surroundings, tension and fear evident on their faces. They knew something was horribly wrong, but they couldn't figure out what was happening or where the threat was coming from.
Looking at the strange and unexplained deaths of his men, Aron quickly realized that the one targeting them must be an evolved person.
Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, Aron shouted, "Whoever you are, show yourself! We know you're an evolved one, but listen carefully—if you kill us, it won't end well for you! We're connected to Gale Brotherhood, and crossing us will bring down their wrath. Let us go, and we won't make trouble. You have our word!"
His voice was firm, trying to convey both a warning and a plea. Despite the fear gnawing at him, he hoped the mention of the Gale Brotherhood would deter the attacker.
But the only thing that answered him was silence.
After a few moments, Aron let out a sigh of relief, thinking his warning had worked. But suddenly, a sharp pain surged through his neck. Looking down in horror, he saw blood pouring from the deep cut that had appeared across his throat. Before he could even process what had happened, his own hand was moving against his will, the knife he had been holding slashing deep into his neck.
Similarly, One by one, the rest of his gangmates fell, their bodies collapsing to the floor in a grotesque display of blood and death.
The silence that followed was deafening. Only the slow, ragged breaths of the final moments remained in the air, as the last member of the Clemine gang met his end.