Lindarion moved across the rooftop with all the grace of a seasoned assassin—well, more or less.
'I can do this… one at a time.'
His movements were fluid, blending into the darkness like a shadow. His black attire helped him vanish into the night.
'Knew this robe would come in handy.'
Slowly, he approached the camp, his steps nearly silent. His first target was conveniently… throwing up into a bush, a bottle of something strong still clutched in his shaky hand.
Short blond hair, watery blue eyes, and an overall pitiful state.
[Shadow Step, Mana Thread Manipulation.]
Lindarion moved like a specter, slipping into the bush. Two thin golden threads materialized, wrapping around the man's neck and tightening.
His voice barely escaped in a strangled whisper, eyes widening in shock.
Lindarion yanked him further into the bush, one hand clamping over his mouth, the other choking the life out of him.
'Sorry, wrong place, wrong time.'
The man thrashed, swinging at Lindarion in a weak attempt to fight back. It felt like being hit by a child—utterly ineffective. Lindarion pressed harder, squeezing with his full strength. A small crack was made in the night.
He let go. Blood dribbled from the man's lips as his lifeless body slumped to the ground like a broken puppet.
Lindarion's hands trembled.
'That makes it five now.'
The weight of each kill lingered. His stomach twisted.
Forcing the nausea down, he took deep breaths and moved to the next shadow.
'Only nine more to go I guess.'
He scanned the camp. Unfortunately, no one else was conveniently isolated.
Crouching near a bush, he contemplated his options.
'Let's see if this works.'
Drawing on his affinity, he blurred his presence slightly within the darkness.
…And now, he had no idea what to do next.
All nine of them were huddled together. The tents, though, seemed empty.
As much as he probably could take them all, he had no idea if more people were nearby. Best not to take the risk.
So, he waited. And waited. And waited…
Until, finally, they dropped like sacks of potatoes into their tents.
Lindarion's gaze locked onto his original target as the man stumbled toward his tent.
Like a shadow, he followed.
The man stepped inside, turned—
Lindarion materialized behind him.
Before he could scream, Lindarion's hand clamped over his mouth. His sword plunged into the man's chest, straight through the heart.
'Not as tough as the bartender dude made him sound.'
Silently, he withdrew the blade, catching the body before it fell. No noise. No evidence.
With slow, deliberate steps, he carried the corpse back toward the rooftop.
'…How do I get back up?'
Looking up at the high ledge, then at the body in his arms, he sighed.
Mana surged into his legs. He pushed off the ground—
Like a missile, he shot up.
His trajectory was off. He crashed headfirst onto the rooftop. The dead body flopped next to him with an unceremonious thud.
Lindarion lay there, staring at the stars.
Then, a hooded figure appeared.
"Well done," Erebus remarked coolly. "You actually used your brain. See? No need to kill everyone."
Without another word, he grabbed the corpse and turned toward Lindarion, who was still on the ground.
Erebus placed a hand on Lindarion's head. The air around them ripped, distorting space. A moment later, they stood back in front of the bartender.
Lindarion pushed himself up as Erebus tossed the body behind the counter.
"This one took longer," the bartender mused, dragging the corpse out of sight. Then, he pulled out a heavy sack of coins—far larger than last time—and handed it to Erebus, who tucked it into his cloak.
Erebus's voice was cold, like an unforgiving sea. He walked toward the door without another word.
Lindarion glanced at the bartender, who flashed him a far too cheerful smile.
"Come again, gentlemen."
There was something unsettling about it.
As they stepped into the night, the city was mostly quiet. A few drunks stumbled around, some people wandered the streets.
'Where exactly are we going…?'
Lindarion followed Erebus through the dark alleys, lit only by the faint glow of the stars and moon.
They stopped in front of a multi-story building, glowing with faint magical lights.
Lindarion read the sign hanging above the entrance.
Erebus walked in without hesitation. Lindarion followed.
The door creaked. Inside, the place was empty except for an old man behind the counter.
The innkeeper's hands trembled as he looked up at the two shadowy figures standing before him. He forced a smile.
Erebus pulled out a handful of coins.
Lindarion finally got a closer look at them.
'Gold… and whose face is that?'
The innkeeper took the money and handed over two keys.
"Th-The room numbers are on the keys," he stammered.
Erebus read his key and tossed the second one to Lindarion, who caught it effortlessly.
Lindarion climbed the stairs after Erebus. The doors were numbered along the hallway.
Erebus, however, continued up to the second floor. Without a word.
Lindarion stopped at Room 10.
The key turned smoothly in the lock. The door creaked open.
A plain room. However no bathroom..none at all.
A single bed. A nightstand. White walls. Minimalist. The nightstand was black-painted wood—Lindarion tapped it. Solid.
It was stiff. Rock-hard.
'They charge money for this?'
He sighed, stripping off his black robe. Underneath, his training clothes were still on.
A single digit was marked on them.
His mind drifted back to training. Only a day ago. Somehow, that felt better than this entire night.
With another sigh, he laid down onto the bed shut his eyes.
Screams. Horrible, gut-wrenching screams. Begging. The room was drenched in blood, dark stains seeping into the walls like they belonged there. A sword floated in the middle, slick and glistening red, and a shadowed figure loomed over the corpses that were piled up like a macabre collection.
Then, the figure turned.
Lindarion jolted upright in bed, grabbing his head.
'Just a dream. A fucked-up dream.'
His chest heaved, his skin damp with sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged beast. He exhaled, rubbing his face, and glanced out the window.
The sun was beginning to rise.
With a tired sigh, he reached for his cloak, throwing it over his shoulders.
'Maybe today will be slightly less shitty than yesterday.'
A knock on the door shattered the fragile silence.
Lindarion stiffened before pushing himself up. With a quick pull, he flipped his hood on and swung the door open.
Erebus stood there, draped in his usual shadowy cloak, expression unreadable.
Lindarion nodded, shutting the door behind him.
'Well, the place could have been way worse.'
Descending the stairs, they were met with a stark shift in atmosphere. The once quiet inn was now bustling with patrons, but the moment Lindarion and Erebus appeared, a heavy silence fell over the room.
The old innkeeper, standing behind the counter, gave them a nervous, stretched smile.
'You really don't have to do that, old man.'
Lindarion and Erebus handed back their keys. The innkeeper fumbled to take them, his hands twitching slightly.
"T-Thank you for staying with us…"
Neither responded, just gave a brief nod before heading out the door.
As they stepped into the cold morning air, Lindarion shot a glance back.
'Poor bastard. He's probably traumatized for life.'
Erebus led them into an alleyway.
"Knew it. Another teleport—"
Before Lindarion could finish, a firm hand clamped onto his head. Space twisted, the world tore apart at the seams, and his stomach lurched.
'I fucking hate this.'
When the distortion settled, Lindarion quickly surveyed his new surroundings. Towering stone walls. Armored figures moving in disciplined formations. Swordsmen, archers, and even mages filled the space like a military outpost.
Then, a voice rang out.
It was light, almost excited. A woman strode toward them, her snow-white hair flowing in the breeze, eyes shimmering like cut sapphires. She was small, almost delicate-looking, her frame slender and agile.
Lindarion's gaze flickered over her, sharp but concealed beneath his hood.
She stopped in front of them, casting a curious glance his way before shifting her focus to Erebus.
Erebus cut her off before she could finish.
Her gaze swept over Lindarion again, but the heavy cloak made it impossible for her to see much of him.
However, Lindarion wasn't paying attention to that.
His mind was too busy reeling from something far more disturbing.
Erebus… sounded happy.
His voice was—warm? Almost polite?
Lindarion stared at him, his brain short-circuiting.
'What the actual fuck?'