An Assassin's Fleeting Journey of the Mind

Puddles of crimson liquid reflects the cold, desiccated corpses scattering across mossy cobblestone tiles.

A man tramples over these bodies, flicking off the crimson staining his bladed edge.

The blood smears the remnants of glass, opaquely mirroring the crescent moon above.

He walks with rhymetic grace, eyes dull and listless but yet it carries an underlying pressure.

The air hung heavy, suffocating in its thickness. The cold wind brushes across like a knife scrapping its edge across the skin. Decay permeates the vicinity without rest causing nearby civilians to feel an inescapable churn to their stomach.

With each soundless step, he treads to a downward slope heading toward a narrow doorway. It's precarious location, situated beneath an arc bridge covered by dusty, stacked wooden barrels.

Covered in a pitch-black cloak, he confidentially strides through the bat infested tunnel leading to a plain, wooden squared door on the ceiling.

The door is currently located ten metres above him, but, without delay, he latches onto the thick walls with his leather boots and propels himself upwards by jumping to the other wall, resembling a zig zag motion.

He twists the doorknob and leaps through, landing amidst three enigmatic figures.

The environment was eerily quiet, a glass of beer was quietly been scrubbed with a piece of pristine blue cloth by a white masked man in a black suit. That man was located at the very back of this hidden establishment. Then there are two individuals covered in the same black cloak as he was wearing sitting on a wooden stool by their own tables drinking in peace. The hidden establishment was lit by multitudes of flickering candles situated on the thick wooden rails connecting the wooden walls together. The place had no windows, the air ventilation system is unknown. The space was mostly covered with four neatly arranged wooden, circular tables placed at the front with their respective wooden stools.

Making his way to the very back, he greets the white masked individual with his blood stained sack.

He silently rolls the heads out of a blood stained sack.

The masked man observes the bounty batting his eye no longer than three seconds, he then taps three times lightly on the bench signalling a peculiar individual to make entree.

Recognising who was about to enter, this individual had a slimmer physique and longer hair. They appear with a darkened tray made by an unknown material.

They used one hand to shuffle their voicebox, cracking, snapping, rearranging its size and shape. Then, they said with a disturbingly deep voice slightly catching him off guard, "150 Silverdians."

He grabs the bag of coins, placing it within his back pockets.

The masked man then flipped a switch, showcasing a range of bounties and missions on the side of this hidden establishment.

Analysing the list on a thin questboard, his eyes dart toward a peculiar piece of paper showing a brightly coloured 'B'.

"How much is her technique?" He had an air of authority carried by his many years of experience and hardened exterior.

His narrow gaze pierced through the masked man observing his expression with anticipation.

Noticing his unkind gaze, the masked man giggles slightly, "It seems that you want to apply for a Special B Grade mission."

"Indeed… I require this person's technique for that matter."

"…"

"The price of this method cost 1000 Silverdians. However—"

Hearing such a high amount of Silverdians, he raises his eyebrows with intrigue, drawing his scarred, tan face and perked up ears closer to the masked man.

"I can make an exception for your contributions. That is if you manage to complete this mission."

"I rather not." He hand waves it off with a low scoff.

Before he made any moves to leaving, the masked man interrupts, "Consider this a gift."

The masked man hands him a sealed scroll. Its content shimmers a light green, hidden in the gaps of the waxed seal.

"This—"

"Indeed, it is what you think it is. While our relationship is strictly transactional. I know that you are valuable enough to warrant this small gift, Noah."

Poker without a fault, he looks at his gift with paranoia.

'It's far too invaluable as a gift. What is the catch?'

The two other cloaked individuals subtly observe, glinting a bright red on their bloodshot eyes.

Sensing their unpleasant bloodlust, he inwardly sighs, 'Another pair of greedy idiots.'

Fluttering his cloak, he delivers a light-hearted smile.

He opens up the trapdoor, dashing through the exit of the narrow tunnel.

The snickers were loud and vicious like dogs eying a piece of bone attached to a rod. The two cloaked individuals tailed him, eyeing the scroll in his hands.

"Hand that over!"

"We will let you go if you do."

As he makes his way through a forest maze, he finds their comments amusing.

"Third-rate people should just be quiet."

"What did you say?!" One of the cloaked individuals threw ten consecutive knives aiming at his vitals. Each knife laced with a smidgen of green liquid, oozing the corrosive properties.

He swiftly dodges each knife by a hair's width, staring at each blade with focus.

'Yes! This thrill!' A smile crept up, his senses tingles with excitement.

Changing his pace, he begins jumping from one tree to another causing his movements to be erratic.

Ahead, there lied an intricate set of invisible tripwires thinner than a strand of hair. The pursuers saw this coming, hurdling over them with quick steps.

Their faces grin with a silent joy, their eyes were clouded and sinister. It's gleaming crimson hue gauges the person up like a pair of predators sizing up its prey.

Noticing their outwardly signs of arrogance, he begins navigating through a tight, narrow pathing of conjoined trees similar to a tree fortress.

This forest wasn't just a battlefield for him—it was a playground that he had mastered a long time ago.

Every root, every shadow, every stone played a part of his plans. He wasn't an ordinary hunter—he was an architect with an already made blueprint for their demise.

He throws a knife towards a piece of string hanging by a tree. Next to that tree, a massive pit was revealed, barring its deathly spikes at its crux.

The two cloaked individuals simultaneously dodged the massive pit by leaping forward laughing at his obvious trap.

But to their demise, they fell into another rabbit hole covered in leaves—it was placed in front of the massive dip.

"I had so many more traps to try out." He scornfully watches the two cloaked men impaled by metal spikes with a deep sigh.

Without a moment of rest, the masked man from the hidden society appears before him putting him on edge.

"It's fortunate that you came out on top, Noah." Out of nowhere, the masked man appears by a tree.

'When did this guy get here?!'

He feigns his inner shock with a question, "Why do you think so?"

"You're young, and your potential is limitless."

"…I don't like how you phrased that. But I do take compliments." He insisted a smile, noticeably easing the mood of the conversation.

'This must be a set up.'

"You planned this right?"

Suddenly, a circulation of darkness seeps through the tight cracks of the domain. A deathly and palpable bloodlust summons a wave of heavy within a small area. It was targeted, it was as if the masked man could tangibly control something that was not tangible.

"It's really unfortunate, Noah…" the masked man said, his tone heavy with intent. Noah's eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body taut. A voice in his mind whispered, 'This isn't a conversation—it's a hunt.' He glanced at the shadows, ready for the inevitable."