One of the lights was flickering in a lamppost on the side of the dusty street. The sea crashed against the shore, unseen in the night as a figure stalked through the shadows, hunting. The target was high-value and mysterious, Steven was ready for the simple job. It was cold on the island but no more that he couldn’t handle. The moon was a crescented
The contractor had approached him silently in the Assassination syndicate, giving only the pay, the target’s preferred appearance, and last known whereabouts. The pay was surprisingly high for such a normal-looking person. Steven had accepted easily, keeping a blank face so as to not show his emotion, all assassins were trained to do such, and also to kill themselves if they were captured so information of the syndicate couldn’t be leaked. Steven was climbing the ranks but already a very accomplished assassin killing a Grand Navy Rear Admiral, and two Grand Navy Commodores. He needed the extra coin. He had inquired how to contact him and the contractor had answered simply, “I will return in a month, show us his sword and we will pay you.”
Now Steven had found himself following this man. His footfalls were silent on the pavement as he slowly unsheathed a dagger walking up to the tavern, the man was inside chatting with someone. Steven stopped outside and opened the door silently with his wind magic, the two were in the back room. Steven walked in, closing the door behind him silently, before maneuvering between the tables like a cat hunting for a mouse. He started to hear talking from the two.
“. . . you had quite the adventure!” the first person chuckled. they sounded like a heavy built man, might be a challenge to deal with Steven thought.
“You bet, I’m glad I met such a nice guy, said he was happy to row me back, had business to take care of at redwake or something,” Steven’s target spoke. They were like a child with how he spoke of life so simply with an air of childish immunity. Why did his contractor want him dead? Wasn’t his place to question.
“I wonder wha-” the owner of the tavern was interrupted as Steven stepped through the doorway and threw his dagger at his target, a black haired male, slightly short who wore a black sword on his hip. He was dripping some sort of black blood and his hair was messed up but clearly the target. The wind magic Steven casted propelled the dagger forward. It would imbed in the back of his head instantly killing him. No human could dodge the dagger from where Steven threw it from. His target wasn’t human. The man turned around faster than anything should physically be able to move, and grabbed the dagger from the air. A snap resounded through the air as his body came to a stop holding the dagger inches from his face.Patches of skin on his side were torn from the movement.
Steven’s training didn’t let him pause, he unsheathed his arcanium sword and swung. It was imbued with wind to move faster than any normal sword. Yet the target matched his blows with the dagger entering a defensive stance. The other man who was the tavern keeper retreated, he was hairy and strongly built but in this fight with two trained killers he would only get in the way. Steven was surprised by the speed at which his target moved, he had expected an easy kill, but without using any magic the man was defending against his wind powered attacks. Even with magic sense Steven hadn’t felt his presence. Everyone seemed to have some magic including the tavern keeper. He could sense some of the strongest shadow users even but nothing came from his target, like a void in the light.
Then the target while defending launched himself through a window that led into the main chamber. The glass shattered outward with a crash. Cursing himself for his foolishness, Steven chased after him going around through the doors. Entering the main room, the black-haired man was standing in the center of the room, bleeding from cuts and holding his black blade. His stance wasn’t one Steven had seen used often, the first attack he’d likely use could easily be blocked by Steven’s blade.
Launching himself with a wind magic burst Steven prepared to block the target’s sword. At that point he realized. The target wasn’t aiming for his head, he was aiming for his sword. Steven launched himself back but too late. The black blade suddenly seemed to ignite in some black void mist as it came singing through the air.
Steven’s blade was clean cut in half. The blade clattering to the ground. Then the target started laughing, “They always fall for it, you as well. Always thinking they can block a blade who cuts through rock like butter.” His eyes had the look of a predator who had cornered their prey. Steven felt like a single mouse trying to kill a cat.
Steven grabbed a table and flung it at the man before turning and running out the door with a boost of wind magic, Steven could not fight that creature. Because that’s what it was, not human in any way. Blocking attacks that would kill any normal man and cutting through the strongest metal like it was nothing.
Running down the street he headed for the cove where his sailboat was anchored. No footsteps followed, thank magic. No one else was out which was good. Reaching his sailboat he hopped aboard and raised anchor before turning to sail. Steven looked back and his target was watching him leave, his black sword still in hand. He was still there, watching, even when Steven was far out to sea on the choppy waves in the black of night.
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