The moon hung low in the night sky, its pale glow struggling to pierce through the thick, rolling fog that enveloped the abandoned street. The eerie silence was broken only by the distant sound of dripping water, a steady rhythm echoing off the cracked and crumbling facades of forgotten buildings. Shadows danced along the walls as a cold breeze whispered through the empty alleyways.
Out of the darkness, they emerged.
A group of figures moved silently down the desolate street, their presence unsettling against the backdrop of decay. Each one wore a mask, a grotesque display of individuality cloaked in secrecy. There was the horned demon, its crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the gloom. Beside it, a porcelain doll mask, chipped and fractured, its false smile frozen in eternal mockery. Another figure donned the visage of a grinning jester, the painted laughter starkly out of place in the oppressive atmosphere.
The leader walked slightly ahead of the rest, his mask a featureless white, devoid of emotion or detail. Their movements were deliberate, each step placed with purpose as if they knew exactly where to go.
They halted beneath a flickering streetlamp, its feeble light casting long, twisted shadows across the pavement. The leader raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. They obeyed without question, their collective gaze turning to the darkened entrance of a building nearby. The door hung ajar, creaking softly as the wind pushed against it, an open invitation to whatever lay within.
"This is the place," the leader said, their voice low and distorted, as though filtered through the mask. "You know what to do."
The group exchanged silent glances, the faint gleam of their eyes barely visible through their masks. One by one, they stepped forward, disappearing into the shadows of the building. The leader lingered for a moment, their gaze sweeping the empty street, as if searching for unseen watchers. Then, with a final glance at the flickering light above, they followed the others into the darkness.
Inside the building, the oppressive silence was replaced by the faint creak of old wood beneath their boots. A figure wearing a mask shaped like a crow leaned closer to another, their voice low but teasing.
"Hey, newbie," the crow-masked figure said. "This is your first mission, right? If you're scared, feel free to come to me."
The addressed figure, hidden behind a mask carved like an intricate wolf's face, its silver etchings catching faint glimmers of light, tensed for a moment before replying in a steady tone, "Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine."
The crow-masked figure chuckled softly, the sound muffled but carrying a hint of amusement. "We'll see about that. Just don't freeze up when things get real."
The group pressed on, their movements careful and precise, each step drawing them deeper into the unknown.
Their search led them to a hidden mechanism embedded in the wall, which the leader expertly manipulated. With a low rumble, a secret door slid open, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling downward into the earth. The air grew colder as they descended, the weight of the underground pressing in around them. The faint scent of damp stone and rust filled their senses.
At the base of the stairs, the space opened into a dimly lit chamber. A single lantern hung from the low ceiling, casting flickering light.
"Alright," the leader began, his voice calm and authoritative. "This is a high-priority target. The Baron's actions have been interfering with Viscount Alwin's plans, and he's paying handsomely to have this obstacle removed."
"The Guild took the commission, and now it's on us to execute it," added the crow-masked figure, their tone laced with dark humor. "Quite literally."
The wolf-masked figure tilted their head. "But why would the Baron be in an abandoned street like this?"
The leader paused for a moment before responding. "I don't know. The Guild didn't give us any information about this place. All we know is that the Baron will be here."
The wolf-masked figure seemed unsatisfied but said nothing further.
The leader continued, "The Baron won't be an easy mark. He's well-guarded and paranoid. We'll need precision and coordination. No room for mistakes."
The wolf-masked figure shifted slightly. "Do we have an escape plan once it's done?"
The leader nodded. "The Guild has secured a safehouse nearby. Once the job is complete, we regroup there and await further instructions."
The group exchanged nods, their resolve solidifying. They were contracted assassins, bound by the Guild's code and the promise of payment. This was their trade, and they excelled at it.
The leader motioned toward the far side of the chamber, where another door stood slightly ajar, leading into a tunnel. "We move now. Stay sharp," he commanded, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
The group filed into the tunnel, their footsteps muted against the damp stone. The air here was heavier, carrying a coppery tang that made more than one of them instinctively reach for their weapons. Their lanterns illuminated only the immediate path ahead, leaving the edges of the tunnel shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
It didn't take long for the first sign of trouble to appear.
"Stop," the wolf-masked figure whispered. The group halted as the lion-masked figure raised their lantern. The light revealed bodies sprawled across the tunnel floor.
They weren't guards.
The corpses were civilians, their faces twisted in terror, mouths frozen mid-scream. Deep gashes marred their bodies, some with limbs bent at unnatural angles. Blood pooled beneath them, glistening darkly in the faint light.
"What... the hell is this?" the jester-masked figure muttered, their usual bravado slipping.
The crow-masked figure crouched down, inspecting the nearest body. "These wounds..." they began, their voice trailing off.
"Not our concern," the leader said sharply, though their tightened grip on their weapon betrayed their unease. "Eyes forward. We have a job to do."
The group stepped over the corpses, their movements careful, their breathing shallow. The oppressive silence of the tunnel weighed heavily on them, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing from somewhere unseen.
Then, a sound cut through the quiet.
It was faint at first, a soft, high-pitched wailing. A child's cry.
Every figure froze in place, their heads snapping toward the sound. It seemed to emanate from deeper within the tunnel, its echoes bouncing off the walls and making it impossible to pinpoint.
"Is that a kid?" the lion-masked figure asked, their voice low and hesitant.
"Doesn't matter," the leader snapped, though their gaze lingered on the darkness ahead. "We keep moving."
But the crying continued, growing louder, more distorted. It carried a strange, unnatural quality, as if it were coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
The wolf-masked figure hesitated, glancing at the leader. "Maybe we should turn back. This... doesn't feel right."
"Enough," the leader barked, though their voice lacked its usual confidence.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the crying stopped.
The silence that followed was absolute, the kind that made ears ring. The group stood motionless, their lanterns casting weak, flickering light that seemed to make the shadows dance.
Unbeknownst to his subordinates, the leader's sharp gaze pierced through the illusion that cloaked the scene before them. As a high wizard, he could easily see the truth: the corpses were a ruse, carefully constructed to disorient and frighten. He knew without a doubt that their assassination plan had been leaked, and they were walking into a trap.
But the leader said nothing. Instead, he feigned confusion, allowing his body language to mirror the unease of the others. If the illusionist thought their deception had succeeded, it would provide the perfect opportunity for an ambush. The leader's mind raced, calculating every possibility as they approached the source of the weeping sound, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the silence, dripping with disdain. "I don't have time for this. How long do I need to wait for a few rats to be caught in a trap?"
The group froze, their attention snapping to the source of the voice. Standing in the middle of the chamber was an old man with striking white hair, his presence radiating an aura of authority. His piercing gaze swept over the assassins, and his lips curled into a sardonic smile.
The old man continued, his tone sharp and condescending. "To kill these rats, I didn't even use my illusions."
The assassins exchanged tense glances, their weapons at the ready. The leader's grip tightened on his blade as he studied the old man, his mind racing to decipher this unexpected turn of events.
As the tension mounted, another presence emerged. From the shadows, a figure clad in noble attire stepped forward, flanked by heavily armed subordinates. The Baron had revealed himself, his confident demeanor a stark contrast to the assassins' growing unease.
The leader's sharp instincts confirmed the worst: the old man was a high wizard, just like himself. Despite being of the same realm, the leader could sense the old man's superior experience and mastery. The old wizard's calm arrogance made it clear he saw no threat in the group before him.
The Baron's voice was cold and steady. "You thought you could kill me so easily? My traps are not so easily avoided."
The leader's mind raced, formulating a plan as the standoff teetered on the edge of chaos.
"Kill the others," the leader ordered, his voice low but filled with intent. "I will take care of the old man."
"Yes, sir," the group replied in unison, preparing to execute the plan.
The Baron's eyes narrowed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Arrogant young man, it seems you don't know about the 'Fire Serpent Aliyak.'"
Hearing those words, the group's hearts sank. They had underestimated the Baron's power, and the realization hit them like a cold wave.
As the group turned toward the old man, the realization set in, the "Fire Serpent Aliyak" was no ordinary being. Aliyak was a high wizard, known for his unmatched power in his realm.
The lion-masked figure, his voice laced with awe, spoke first, "Who would have thought the Baron could mobilize a high wizard... and it was Aliyak, who is so powerful and experienced in his own realm."
The leader's gaze remained cold, his face unreadable. "It doesn't matter. We are assassins. Even if we may die, we need to do what we agreed to do."
The Baron let out a maniacal laugh, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Heh, I can't wait to see that idiot Viscount's face tomorrow when he sees me alive!"
The tension in the room escalated, and the air seemed to crackle with the unspoken understanding that the battle was about to begin. Each member of the group steeled themselves for what was to come.