Sable, the assassin

When Victor Shieldman heard the knocks on the door, he looked up and took a deep breath. His heart was racing, his senses were heightened and his mind was in overdrive.

The moonlight faintly illuminated the hall of the shed, and Victor could feel the tension in the air, like static electricity about to explode. This was his second chance, like a second life, and he didn't know if he'd get another one. His body was tense, but Victor approached the door with careful steps. His hand slowly reached out towards the handle. 

Contrary to what Victor's heart was telling him, the atmosphere was calm. Everything was silent and there was no pressure in the air or murderous intent. Despite this, Victor was literally able to feel with his soul a presence hidden behind the wood of the door. This presence didn't have an exact silhouette like the others, it was blurred and distorted like an ordinary presence, and this was so normal that it seemed purposeful.

Then, the moment Victor touched the handle, the whole atmosphere changed. A wave of energy ran through his body, a sense of immediate danger, just as he felt when the door suddenly closed and separated him from Wanda. His instincts screamed, warning him to back off, to get away before it was too late. Victor stepped back sharply, and the door was cut in half a few moments later, revealing, in the moonlight, the same woman Victor had fought earlier.

"Come on, you shouldn't be here," said Sable, entering the foyer.

Her smile, the damn smile, was exactly the same as when she was about to kill Wanda, which made Victor's expression stiffen even more. He stood, holding his sword in one hand, and looked at Sable from head to toe. This was the first opportunity he'd had to see her full body without the darkness getting in the way.

Soon, he noticed a small tattoo on her neck that consisted of a fleur de lys surrounded by a red circle.

"So, you're an assassin from the Garden of Lys." Victor said as he looked Sable in the eye. "Whoever hired you is certainly very rich and influential."

This time, her smile disappeared completely. 

Victor knew immediately that he had hit the nail on the head. "Interesting, as far as I knew, the Garden of Lys almost went extinct twenty years ago, but seven members survived that attack. Judging by the fact that you use two poison swords, I believe you are a descendant or apprentice of one of them. Are you trying to rebuild your order while working for the kingdom's fat-cat politicians? I wouldn't say that's a wise decision." 

Sable started walking, circling Victor like a predator circles its prey. Her heels echoed on the ancient floor of the place.

"You're not completely wrong, Mr Shieldman. But you are wrong to assume that I am still part of the Garden of Lys, after all, that order of assassins no longer exists." Sable raised one of the curved swords he was carrying. "These blades have done their job well in killing all the other incompetents who have tainted that order. I'm just a living tribute to the best assassins this kingdom has ever seen."

On the blade she was showing, there were six scratches lined up, like those of a prisoner counting down the days to get out of the dungeon. 

"I'm also the last one left and the best one too. Now, do me the favor of dying quickly for me, because I still need to kill your daughter." She said and then advanced relentlessly.

Victor wasn't a particularly exceptional hunter. He had no special skills, no extraordinary talents, or rare blood relations, but Victor certainly wasn't weak, because he trained much harder than most people to try to overcome the lack of natural abilities and talents that weren't granted to him when he first opened his eyes to this dangerous world.

Seeing Sable advancing towards him, Victor planted his feet on the ground, to the point of making the ground crack, and spun his sword. He wouldn't be foolish to advance blindly as he did when he was killed by this assassin; on the contrary, he now knew that prudence would reward him, because, considering that Wanda was still in the city, she could arrive at any moment. 

In other words, for Victor, an old warrior weakened by age, this was not a battle against Sable, but against his own resistance.

Quick as a cheetah, Sable attacked with her right sword. Victor defended easily and the cold glint of steel reflected the intensity of the fight that was beginning. 

Victor, with his sword raised in defense, successfully blocked Sable's attack but felt the impact of her blade against his. Victor's dense muscles, trained over decades of battles and arduous training, responded with unique precision. He avoided the next attack from Sable's left sword simply by deftly spinning his sword, which surprised Sable.

Their eyes met as sparks flashed in the darkness.

The hall was plunged into an atmosphere of tension. The air was suddenly impregnated with the metallic smell of steel, and the echo of the combatants' footsteps resounded off the old walls. Their silhouettes danced in the darkness, lit only occasionally by the pale rays of the moon. It was a scene of conflict, where every move could be fatal.

Sable was a formidable opponent, agile as a feline and lethal as a viper. Her blows were precise and every move seemed to have the sole purpose of piercing her opponent's defense and killing with a single hit. Victor recognized the danger she represented, a threat that could not be underestimated.

As the two warriors faced each other, time seemed to dilate, each second stretched to the limit of perception. 

Victor was fighting not only for his own survival but also for the safety of his daughter. Despite his age, his reflexes were as sharp as the blade he wielded. He anticipated his opponent's movements, dodging her attacks with a skill born from experience. Every time their swords met, sparks flew. 

Robe had promised to hide until Victor said it was safe to come out, but he couldn't contain his curiosity and had to snoop on the fight through a crack in the door leading to the basement. In this way, he got a glimpse, albeit a limited one, of the battle and was startled by the level of agility of the two warriors. 

Sable and Victor moved through the hall like two blurs, and the hissing of their blades cutting through the air and clashing against each other produced an intense melody.

Startled to see this, Robe closed the door to the basement as quickly as he could and stood against it to make sure no one would get in if they tried. Seconds later, a blade came through the wood of the door, and passed so close to hitting Robe that he could see his own face reflected in the sword that fortunately missed its target.

"He's not your enemy," Victor said to Sable as he held her other hand to stop her from throwing the second sword against the door.

The assassin smiled, kicked him in the chest and, with an acrobatic move, stepped back slightly. "My work policy is to leave no witnesses, what else can I do?" Sable said as he raised his head.

With Sable stretching out her right hand after that, the sword stuck in the basement door was enveloped in an aura and returned to her hand.

"But you're right, he's not my enemy yet, but he will be after I've finished with you. And I think I'm going to have to stop playing with you because it's clear that you're just trying to buy time," she declared.

Suddenly, the air inside the shed began to vibrate and a magical aura enveloped Sable's body. At that moment, Victor could see her muscles pulsing with the naked eye and the veins all over her body glowing.

'Is that... dark magic? Damn, an assassin who can use dark magic is news to me.' Victor thought as he gritted his teeth. 

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