Massacre in London

The ancient stones of the Tower of London towered before them, an imposing fortress with centuries of history. Lucas walked alongside the group of older students, his small frame a stark contrast to their lanky builds. Despite the age gap, his piercing gaze and confident manner commanded a presence that didn't match his six years.

"Everyone, gather around," the tour guide called out, her voice carrying across the courtyard. She was a cheerful woman brimming with knowledge, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Welcome to the Tower of London, one of the city's most iconic landmarks."

The students huddled closer, their chatter subsiding as they turned their attention to the guide. Lucas remained on the periphery, his expression neutral as he scanned the ancient walls and towers.

"This gateway was built in the late 13th century, during Edward I's reign," the guide explained, gesturing towards the intricate stonework of the Byward Tower. "It served as the main entrance to the inner ward, where the royal apartments and state rooms were located."

Lucas absorbed every detail, his perfect memory etching the information into his consciousness.

"Wicked," one of the students murmured, his eyes wide with awe. "Can you imagine living in a place like this?"

"I'd feel like a bloody king," another chimed in, eliciting a few chuckles from the group.

The guide smiled indulgently. "Indeed, the Tower was a symbol of power and prestige. But it also had a darker side, as you'll soon discover."

As they moved on, passing through the Bloody Tower, the guide regaled them with tales of intrigue and execution. Lucas found himself captivated by the violent history, his curiosity piqued by the accounts of power struggles and betrayal.

"The name 'Bloody Tower' comes from the tragic events that unfolded within these very walls," the guide said, her voice taking on a somber tone. "It was here that the young princes, Edward V and his brother Richard, were allegedly murdered on the orders of their uncle, Richard III."

A collective gasp rippled through the group, and one of the teachers shot a concerned glance at Lucas, wondering if the subject matter was too grim for a child his age. Lucas, however, met the teacher's gaze with a relaxed stare, his eyes betraying no hint of discomfort.

As they approached the Wakefield Tower, the guide launched into another narrative, her voice carrying across the ancient courtyard. "This tower was once the residence of Henry VIII's ill-fated wife, Anne Boleyn, before her..."

Her words were abruptly cut off by a billowing cloud of smoke that erupted from the far side of the complex. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group as the acrid scent of burning filled the air.

"What the bloody hell was that?" one of the students exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear.

"Is it a fire?" another cried out, her voice trembling.

The guide's expression shifted from scholarly enthusiasm to concern, her brow furrowing as she attempted to assess the situation. "Everyone, please remain calm," she called out, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, but let's proceed with caution."

The students huddled closer, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Lucas, however, remained an eerie oasis of calm, his mind processing every detail with cold precision.

With a deep breath, Lucas immersed himself in the vastness, aligning his essence with the warmth of the sun, the boundless sea, and the gentle air. He merged his awareness with the thermal currents and the breezes above, becoming one with the natural world around him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated deeply, channeling his magic into the complex visualization known as Thermal Currents of the Vast Sea. This process demanded several seconds of intense focus to fully manifest.

After six strenuous seconds, he exhaled, releasing the spell into the sea and air. His breath mingled with the wind, enhancing its ability to detect and relay warmth signatures back to him. As the thermal currents flowed through his consciousness, Lucas became aware of the numerous thermal imprints of those nearby, each unique and distinct. This blanket of thermal signatures enveloped him, offering a comprehensive sense of everyone around.

A subtle smirk played upon his lips as he meticulously sorted through these thermal signatures. It was then, amidst the myriad of warmth, he discerned two anomalies—two distinct signatures aggressively moving towards his precise location. The visualization provided him an unparalleled level of awareness, allowing him to manipulate the air and condense the smoke to veil their approach.

While the ability granted him an exceptional level of perception, maintaining it demanded much of his will. Lucas quickly focused on the critical task at hand, the two advancing threats.

"What's happening?" one of the students cried out, his voice laden with fear. "Is it a terrorist attack?"

"Stay together, everyone," the guide insisted, her tone firm yet filled with concern. "We'll follow the evacuation procedures and..."

Without hesitation, Lucas's telekinetic grip seized the assailants' bodies, halting them in their tracks. Ignoring the panicked cries of his classmates, he delved into the assailants' minds, ruthlessly extracting their memories for clues and motives.

The Ebon Hand, an assassin organization, had accepted a contract on his life from the oil magnate Khalid Al-Mansour. His eyes hardened, devoid of mercy.

Fools, he thought, his mental voice echoing like the crash of waves against a rocky shore. They have no idea who they're dealing with.

A deep chasm opened in the earth before the wide-eyed assassins, their pleas silenced by his telekinetic grasp.

Frostfire Beam, Lucas commanded, and twin beams of searing frost and flame erupted from his body, consuming one half of their bodies while encasing the other in ice. Their agonized screams were muffled, eyes bulging as the relentless magic consumed them from within.

Within five seconds, their bodies shattered into ten thousand burning ice shards that melted into watery ash. With a casual gesture, the ash swirled into the chasm, and the earth closed, leaving no trace of the grisly scene. Repair magic restored the area to pristine condition, as if nothing had transpired.

Rejoining the gathered students, Lucas calmed their frantic emotions with a subtle spell, gently dispersing the smoke until it dissipated naturally. The bodyguards, relieved to find him unharmed, received his reassuring smile, none the wiser to the brutal execution that had unfolded mere moments ago.

"Are you alright, lad?" one of the guards asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "We saw the smoke and feared the worst."

Lucas met the guard's gaze, his expression serene. "I'm quite alright, sir. It was merely a minor incident, nothing to worry about."

The guard exchanged a relieved glance with his companion, content that nothing bad had happened.

"Is everyone alright?" the guide asked, her voice shaky but regaining its composure. "It appears to have been a minor incident, nothing to worry about."

The students exchanged uneasy glances, their minds still reeling from the sudden chaos.

"What the hell just happened?" one of the students muttered, his face pale.

"I don't know, mate," another replied, his voice trembling. "But I'm glad it's over."

"Perhaps we should continue our tour," the guide suggested, forcing a smile. "There's still so much history to explore within these walls."

As the group began to move forward, Lucas looked behind him, his gaze fixed on the spot where the assassins had met their grisly fate. A fleeting glimpse of satisfaction flickered in his eyes before his smiling mask settled once more.

oo0ooOoo0oo

The train's steady clunking echoed through the compartment, a familiar rhythm that Lucas found oddly calming. He sat invisible, his small body decorated with coiled snakes, their scales gleaming in the dim light from the window. Nyx, his constant companion, rested comfortably around his neck, her forked tongue flicking out every now and then, tasting the air.

"It's been a while since I've traveled like this," Lucas murmured in Parseltongue, his voice a soft hiss that only the snakes could understand. Nyx responded with a gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgment of his words.

Lucas's mind wandered back to his past life in the Netherlands, where public transport was a daily routine. He remembered the efficient trains and buses that crisscrossed the country, taking him to and from his software engineering job with ease. The memory brought a faint smile to his lips as he considered revisiting his former home, if only for a touch of nostalgia. "Perhaps when I'm older, I'll take a trip back," he said aloud, his voice barely audible over the train's rumble. "It would be interesting to see my old house again."

Nyx's tongue flicked against his cheek, a gentle reminder of her presence. As the train neared London, Lucas's thoughts shifted to the more pressing matter – the assassins' organization he had uncovered through the memories of the two would-be attackers. Anticipation stirred within him as he considered the potential challenges ahead.

"We have work to do, my friends," he hissed, addressing the coiled snakes adorning his body. "When we arrive, I need you to investigate the building thoroughly. Leave nothing unchecked, and report back to me with your findings." The snakes responded with a chorus of hisses, their bodies undulating in acknowledgment.

As the train pulled into the station, Lucas disembarked, his invisible form slipping through the crowds unnoticed. The platform was a commotion of sounds – the clatter of luggage wheels, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional shrill whistle piercing the air. Lucas navigated the chaos with ease, his senses tuned to the ebb and flow of the crowd.

He made his way to the nondescript building that housed the assassins' base, positioning himself in a secluded alleyway nearby. The alley was a stark contrast to the lively energy of the station, its walls covered in graffiti and littered with discarded trash. The air carried a faint hint of stale urine, mingling with the acrid scent of cigarette smoke.

"Go," he commanded, and the snakes slithered away, their lithe forms disappearing into the crevices and shadows of the building. Time ticked by as Lucas waited, his mind contemplating possible strategies.

At last, the snakes began to return, their tongues flickering with urgency as they relayed their findings. "The building is full of assassins," one hissed, its scales gleaming in the dim light. "They move with purpose, armed to the teeth."

"And there is one among them," another added, its voice laced with trepidation. "A human who wields magic, like you do. We saw him brandish a wand when he thought himself alone."

Lucas's eyes widened, a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, as if electrified by a sudden jolt. A wizard, he thought, his mind racing. This changes everything. While I have faced numerous opponents in this life, almost all have been non-magical beings, helpless against my magic. But a wizard, especially one who commanded a force of assassins, would be a true test of my skills.

He felt drawn to the test, eager to pit his magic against another's. But he hesitated. He was still young and knew facing an adult wizard could be perilous, despite his talent.

"An ambush, then," he murmured, his mind already formulating a plan. "We must strike swiftly and decisively, leaving no room for error." 

oo0ooOoo0oo

The narrow alley reeked of piss and cigarette butts, with piles of trash rotting in the shadows. Lucas stood invisible, staring at the plain building that hid the assassins' hideout. This is it, he thought, his mind going over what his snake scouts had learned. The assassins' base, a snake pit that needs cleaning up. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat currents flow through his mind, painting a clear picture of the building's insides. The assassins' body heat flickered like candle flames, their movements etched into his awareness.

Most have likely moved since the scouts checked, he figured, but their starting spots will still help. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he planned his approach. First, I must check for any magic defenses or wards.

With a subtle hand motion, Lucas floated a small pebble through the doorway, letting it hover inside for a full minute. No alarms went off, no magic barriers appeared – the way seemed clear, at least for now.

Lucas glanced at the necklace around his neck, a subtle nod to the protective spells woven into it. His wristband too held hidden power, a backup plan if needed. Nyx and the other snakes stayed safely away, not needed for this mission. 

Breathing deeply, Lucas started the Thermal Currents of the Vast Sea visualization. With skilled frost magic, he visualized his own thermal current enveloped by icy currents, blending seamlessly with the ocean's chill.

A smarter way than senselessly giving off great amounts of heat, he thought, his mental voice echoing like crashing waves. Hiding my presence through subtlety instead of force.

Invisible and thermally camouflaged, Lucas approached the building, his footsteps silent on the cracked pavement. Let's prioritize stealth, he decided, reaffirming his approach with a silent resolve. He positioned himself beside the entrance, ready to slip inside unnoticed at the right moment. 

Twenty-two minutes ticked by, the alley's shadows growing longer as the sun moved. Lucas's focus never wavered, his senses tuned to the slightest shift in the thermal currents around him. 

Suddenly, a flicker of warmth caught his eye, a body heat rapidly nearing the door. Lucas's eyes narrowed, his mind already probing the newcomer's surface thoughts with subtle Legilimency.

An assassin, he confirmed, sifting through the man's memories. A husband and father, living a double life to support his family. He snorted quietly, he shouldn't have joined The Ebon Hand if he wanted his family to have a husband and father.

With skilled calming magic, Lucas lulled the man into a trance, ensuring he went unnoticed. As the assassin unlocked the door and went inside, Lucas followed closely, slipping through the narrow gap before the door closed behind them.

The building's insides were dimly lit, the air thick with stale cigarette smoke and the tang of sweat. Lucas paused, letting his senses adjust, his mind mapping the flickering heat currents dancing around him. 

Clear, he concluded, his gaze settling on the unsuspecting assassin. With a subtle gesture, he enveloped the man in a powerful wave of calming magic, gently lulling him into a deep sleep. As the assassin's body went limp, Lucas floated him a few inches off the ground, ensuring a silent descent.

Conjuring a dense sphere of air, Lucas infused it with a sticky charm to hold it together. With a deft flick, he guided the sphere into the unconscious man's open mouth, forcing it down his throat and blocking his airway.

A slow, silent death, Lucas thought, his face impassive. No evidence of magic, no foul play – just another sad accident. Though nobody will think that to be the case at the end of the day. 

Leaving the man's sealed fate, Lucas ventured deeper into the building, his footsteps whisper-soft on the worn floorboards. The stale tobacco smell grew stronger, mixed with cheap cologne and musty old paper.

A murmur of voices drifted down the hallway, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Lucas followed the sound, alert for any potential threats.

The voices led him to a dimly lit room, where four men sat around a table engrossed in cards. The air was hazy with smoke, the flickering light of a single bulb casting long shadows across their faces.

Fools, Lucas thought with disdain. Their wizard leader should have spent more effort on guarding the base through magic, any magical being can just waltz in and take them all out… 

With subtle air currents, Lucas began siphoning oxygen from the room, gradually depriving the assassins of breath they squandered so carelessly. Simultaneously, he wove calming magic into their minds, lulling them into sluggish lethargy.

One by one, the men began to panic, gasping for air that wasn't there. Their movements turned frantic, arms flailing, as laughter and conversation turned into desperate, silent pleas for oxygen. In their growing hysteria, Lucas lifted them from their chairs, leaving them suspended in a chilling display. They reached out, trying to grasp the guns laid out on the table, but found themselves helplessly adrift, unable to touch anything that might offer salvation.

Nobody will hear them, he observed coldly. Just a silent descent into oblivion, their lives snuffed out like candles.

Lucas's eyes fell upon the pistols on the table. With a slow movement, he extended his hand, one of the guns levitating towards him. He grasped it firmly, a dark contingency plan forming in his mind. Should his magic fail him at a crucial juncture in the future, this firearm would serve as his insurance. Silently, he commanded the pistol to adhere to the inside of his jacket, secured by an unseen force.

With a casual flick, Lucas lowered the lifeless bodies back into their seats, arranging them as if they'd merely fallen asleep mid-game. A faint smile tugged his lips as he surveyed his work.

Four down, countless more to go, he thought, his mind already on the next phase.

As Lucas navigated the hideout's maze-like corridors, he encountered more groups, each met with the same silent, inexorable fate. Some suffocated, lungs starved of oxygen as the air around them grew thin and stale. Others collapsed, gasping for breath as invisible forces seemed to leech the very life from their surroundings. Still more clutched at their throats, faces turning shades of purple and blue as the atmosphere itself became a weapon, denying them the vital essence they so desperately craved. 

Throughout, Lucas maintained invisibility and thermal camouflage, his presence a mere whisper in the air currents. He left no trace, no evidence, save the growing trail of bodies.

With the lower-ranking assassins fallen, Lucas turned his attention to the leader's office, his steps measured. The air grew thick with anticipation, the weight of the coming confrontation pressing down.

He climbed the stairs, senses attuned to any shift in the heat currents around him. The leader's body heat flickered like a candle, a beacon guiding Lucas.

As he neared the office door, a sudden pop echoed through the corridor, the sound sharp and unexpected. In that instant, the leader's heat vanished, only to reappear directly behind Lucas. 

Time seemed to slow as Lucas whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of the leader, wand outstretched and lips already forming the dreaded words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A blinding emerald flash erupted from the wand's tip, hurtling towards Lucas with lethal intent.