The rain fell again.
The wind whispered through the alleyways like a funeral murmur. In the shadow of a collapsed tower, two figures watched the lower city: Ishi Crush and Lysa, hooded, her eyes glowing beneath the black fabric.
— "Do you see that large building, atop the hill?"
He pointed toward an opulent manor, surrounded by guards, magical torches, and enchanted walls.
— "That's where Lord Veldan lives, the man responsible for the human trafficking in this area."
Lysa didn't answer immediately. She studied the manor with the focus of a predator evaluating its prey. Ishi glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
— "And me?" she asked calmly after a moment.
Ishi turned his head, his black eye gleaming like a drawn blade.
— "Kill him. Quietly. Cleanly. Without raising an alarm."
He slowly straightened up.
— "If you fail... you will be of no use to me. If you succeed... I'll know you can survive in my shadow."
A silence hung between them. Then she said:
— "What's the deadline?"
— "Before dawn."
Lysa nodded. Not a word more. She vanished into the night.
Midnight.
The manor was alive. A private feast was underway, gathering slave traders, corrupt nobles, and a few mid-tier mages. Laughter, music, drunkenness... all of it masking the moral stench of the place.
Lysa had slipped through the sewers, tunnels, and cracks in the walls. She moved through the shadows like a forgotten memory. Each step, each breath, was a calculation, a silent prayer to the blade.
A servant crossed her path. A movement. A breath. Silence. Dead.
She donned her dress. Exposed legs, bare arms, collar slightly undone. She played the part. Walked slowly. Not a glance suspected that the young woman carrying wine between the tables was a latent killer.
No one noticed the girl with grey eyes climbing the Lord's stairs.
Inside Veldan's private chamber, a bath awaited him. The old noble smiled, sipping red wine.
— "Finally... a girl to my taste..."
Lysa approached. Her gaze empty. She leaned in... then whispered:
— "What if this was your last taste?"
A fine needle shot from her sleeve. Stab. Inject. Paralysis.
The Lord's eyes widened, his mouth unable to scream. Lysa brought her lips to his ear.
— "Ishi Crush sends his regards."
Slice. A black thread cut his throat silently. The blood flowed into the bathwater, mixing with the scented bubbles.
Outside.
Ishi watched the light from the room go out.
— "Perfect."
But it wasn't over.
He entered. Not the house... the entire district.
He moved like a specter. Guards fell one by one, sometimes without even realizing they were dead.
By dawn, flames consumed the entire district. Guard posts were ransacked. Merchants killed in their sleep. Their bodies hung in the streets, like warnings.
"He's back."
Those words, written in blood on the walls, sent shivers through all of Sahel.
Lysa, beside him, watched without blinking.
— "You didn't ask me to help with this," she said.
— "It wasn't your mission. It was my message."
He looked at the bodies lined up.
— "This is just the prelude. The prelude to the collapse of a world built on betrayal."
A guard, still alive, crawled toward him. Blood, tears, pleading.
— "P-please... I beg you..."
Ishi stared at him. No hatred. No anger. Just cold justice.
— "Mercy? And when you sold children? When you broke lives for gold?"
The guard trembled.
— "I... I obeyed..."
Strike.
A blade pierced him. Clean. Silent.
— "You obeyed evil. Now die for it."
In the blood haze, a rumor rose.
"The Cursed General is alive." "He kills." "He's looking for something."
Ishi turned away.
— "Get ready, Lysa. The next to fall... will be one of the three."
And in the silence of the city, an invisible war had just begun.