Returning to the Guild
The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of blood and steel as
Seraphis
and the twins made their way back toward the
Assassin’s Guild
. The weight of the severed head in her grasp was familiar—solid, warm, lifeless.
There was no conversation between them. There didn’t need to be. The silence was
comfortable
, the only sounds coming from the quiet crunch of dirt beneath their boots.
A Shadow in the Dark
Seraphis kept her senses sharp. Just because the contract was complete didn’t mean
they were safe
. Someone could be watching. Someone could be waiting.
Her grip on the head tightened slightly. The mercenary leader had been strong—skilled—but in the end,
skill wasn’t enough against them
.
A faint rustle in the trees made her pause.
An Unwelcome Presence
She turned her head slightly, just enough to see a dark figure move among the branches. They weren’t
amateurs
—whoever they were, they knew how to hide.
Seraphis exhaled softly.
“Company,” she murmured.
The twins reacted instantly. Their hands shifted toward their weapons, bodies tensed and
ready to strike
.
A Test or an Attack?
The figure didn’t move closer, didn’t speak. They simply
watched
.
Seraphis narrowed her eyes. Was it an enemy? A rival assassin? A scout sent by another faction?
She didn’t like
being observed
.
“Leave,” she called into the darkness, voice even. “Or I’ll cut you down.”
A Silent Departure
For a few tense seconds, the only sound was the wind. Then—
a retreat
. Whoever it was
vanished
back into the shadows, slipping away like a ghost.
Seraphis clicked her tongue.
“Coward.”
The twins exchanged glances but said nothing. There were always eyes in the dark, but unless they
posed a threat
, Seraphis wasn’t interested in chasing shadows.
The Guild’s Doors Await
The rest of the walk was
uneventful
. The towering silhouette of the
Assassin’s Guild
came into view—an ominous structure of stone and steel, standing tall against the dark sky.
Seraphis pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the dimly lit interior.
The smell of blood, smoke, and alcohol
was thick in the air. Assassins of all ranks lounged in corners, some laughing over drinks, others
sharpening blades
, waiting for their next contract.
Eyes on the Prize
As she strode toward the front desk, heads turned. Murmurs rippled through the room.
The
black-mark contract
had been a dangerous one. Few had expected them to return—let alone
victorious
.
Seraphis ignored the stares. She had a job to finish.
Proof of Death
The guildmaster stood behind the desk, his face unreadable as Seraphis
dropped the severed head onto the counter with a dull thud
.
Blood pooled beneath it, the lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.
“Your proof,” she said.
The guildmaster’s gaze flicked over the head, then back to her.
A slow, approving nod.
“Well done.”
A Sizable Reward
A leather pouch was tossed onto the counter, landing beside the head. The weight of it was
satisfying
—a heavy sum.
Seraphis didn’t count it. She didn’t need to.
The guild never shortchanged its assassins.
A Reputation Solidified
More whispers. More glances.
Seraphis felt the shift in the air—
respect
. She had already earned her place in the guild, but this contract had sealed it.
She wasn’t just another assassin. She was
one of the best
.
Drinks in Celebration
One of the twins grabbed the pouch, slipping it into their coat as they turned away from the desk.
Seraphis stretched her arms. “Drink?”
The twins exchanged grins.
“Drink.”
A Moment of Rest
They moved to one of the tables, where a
barmaid
quickly slid over a tray of strong, dark liquor. The first sip burned, but it was
welcome
.
For now, there was
no killing, no hunting, no blood
—just the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
A Challenge Approaches
But the peace didn’t last long.
A
figure
approached their table—a man clad in dark leather, a long scar running down his jaw.
He stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes cold.
“I saw what you did,” he said. “You’re good. But I wonder…”
He tilted his head.
“Are you good enough?”
The Weight of a Challenge
Seraphis set her drink down, eyes locked onto his.
“Are you looking for a fight?”
He smirked.
“Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see if you’re as dangerous as they say.”
The Guild Watches
The room had gone quiet. Assassins were
always hungry for a fight
, and this was
exactly the kind of entertainment they lived for
.
Seraphis considered it.
She didn’t
need
to prove herself. But she wouldn’t back down from a challenge either.
A Decision Made
She stood slowly, the chair scraping against the wooden floor.
“If you want a fight…” She rolled her shoulders. “I won’t stop you.”
The Circle Forms
The other assassins
cleared space
, forming a rough ring around them.
The man smiled, drawing a thin, curved dagger from his belt.
“No weapons,” Seraphis said flatly. “Bare hands.”
His smile widened.
“I like you already.”
The First Strike
He moved first.
Fast. Efficient.
Well-trained.
Seraphis ducked under his first strike, twisting away before his fist could connect. She countered immediately—
a sharp elbow to his ribs
.
A True Brawler
The impact sent him back a step, but he barely reacted. He had felt worse.
He came at her again.
A punch—she dodged. A kick—she sidestepped. He was
strong
, but she was
faster
.
Trading Blows
Seraphis
blocked, struck, dodged, countered.
Their movements were
fluid, relentless
—two fighters locked in a deadly dance.
She took a hit to the shoulder—nothing serious. In return, she
drove her knee into his stomach
, forcing a sharp exhale from his lips.
Pushing Limits
The fight
dragged on
longer than she expected. He wasn’t just some low-level thug—he had
skill
, experience.
But he wasn’t
better than her
.
The Ending Blow
She waited for his next move.
The second he lunged—
she struck first.
Her fist
connected with his jaw
, the force sending him
crashing to the floor.
Victory Earned
Silence.
Then—
cheers, laughter, approval.
The man groaned, rolling onto his back. He let out a strained chuckle.
“Yeah… you’re good.”
A Final Word
Seraphis smirked.
“I know.”
She turned, walking back to her table as the onlookers
dispersed
, the excitement fading into the usual
murmur of the guild
.
She took her seat, picked up her drink, and took a slow sip.
Just another night. Just another victory.
4o