The night air was crisp as Seraphis landed on the
guild’s rooftop
, her white raven form dissolving into a swirl of dark mist. Her feet touched the cold stone tiles, her breath steady despite the rush of
adrenaline
surging through her veins.
She had found the
hidden passage
.
She had tracked the
courier
.
Now, she needed to find out
who was behind the letter.
Stepping off the edge of the rooftop, she dropped into the shadows of the alley below, her form seamlessly blending into the darkness.
Silent. Invisible. Deadly.
Her target was the
abandoned chapel
.
But she wouldn’t just walk through the front door.
The Entrance No One Sees
Seraphis crouched near the building’s
rotting wooden walls
, her fingers tracing along the stone foundation.
Old places always had hidden ways in.
She searched for cracks, hollow spaces—anything that could be an
unseen entrance
.
Then she found it.
Beneath the tangled roots of an overgrown tree, the stone was
looser than the rest
. Carefully, she pressed against it, feeling the slight
give
of a hidden mechanism.
With a soft click, the stone
shifted
, revealing a
narrow tunnel
.
A
second entrance.
She smirked. Amateurs.
Slipping inside, she descended into the
darkness
.
The Underground Lair
The tunnel was
cold
, damp, and smelled faintly of
mildew and old blood
. The further she walked, the clearer she heard voices
echoing
through the passage.
She moved
closer
, hugging the walls, her steps
soundless
.
Then, at the end of the tunnel, she saw them.
A
dimly lit chamber
, lined with
cracked stone pillars
. A long, wooden table sat at the center, surrounded by
figures in dark cloaks
.
And at the head of the table, a
man
sat with his fingers steepled, his presence radiating cold authority.
Seraphis narrowed her eyes.
So, this was the one behind the letter.
"Seraphis Must Die"
She remained hidden in the shadows, listening.
The leader—the one sitting at the head of the table—spoke in a
low, commanding voice
.
"The thief must be eliminated. She’s dangerous, unpredictable. We sent a warning, but it seems she’s chosen to ignore it."
A second figure spoke up, voice tinged with unease. "Are we sure we want to move against her? She’s… not normal."
The leader scoffed. "She’s still just one person. We have the numbers. We have the resources. And most importantly—"
He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"—we have a plan."
Seraphis’ smirk deepened.
Oh? You have a plan?
She almost felt bad for them.
Almost.
Crashing the Party
She counted the
figures in the room
.
Eight.
Most were probably just
messengers or hired thugs
, but a couple of them—especially the leader—might be
competent.
Alright, let’s make this fun.
She reached into her
coat
, pulling out one of her
razor-sharp metal playing cards
. With a flick of her fingers, she
sent it flying
Straight into the
candle on the table.
The
flame sputtered out
, plunging the room into
darkness
.
The reaction was
instantaneous.
"What the—?"
"Who blew out the light?"
"Check the entrance!"
But by the time they moved, she was already
inside the room
, her steps soundless, her presence
a whisper in the night
.
She moved behind the
first man
, slipped a
dagger to his throat
, and whispered—
"Hello there."
Before he could scream, she
slammed his face into the table
, knocking him unconscious.
Panic erupted.
The Dance of Blades
The
second thug
lunged toward where he thought she was—
But she was already
gone
, flipping over the table, her hand
grabbing a chair mid-air
and using it as a
makeshift weapon
to
smash into his skull
.
Another came at her with a
short sword
She dodged, twisting around him, and
kicked his leg out
, making him crash onto the floor.
The
leader
finally stood, his eyes flashing with
fury and recognition
.
"You," he hissed.
Seraphis grinned. "Me."
And then,
he attacked.
The Leader's Mistake
He was
faster
than the others.
Trained. Skilled.
His
dagger came for her throat
, but Seraphis was already moving. She caught his wrist, twisted it, and forced him backward—
Only for him to
counter
by spinning into a low kick, nearly sweeping her legs.
She leapt over it, landing
gracefully
on the table.
"Not bad," she admitted. "For a guy who writes dramatic threat letters."
His expression darkened. "You shouldn’t have come here."
"Really? Because I feel like this is going
exactly
how I wanted it to."
She flicked her wrist—
And her
metal playing cards shot from her coat
,
circling around her
like a deadly storm.
The leader’s eyes widened.
Seraphis smirked. "Oops."
She
snapped her fingers
.
The cards
launched forward.
The End of the Meeting
The leader barely had time to react.
One card
sliced his shoulder
, another cut
deep into his hand
, forcing him to drop his weapon.
He staggered back, gasping.
The remaining men?
Gone.
They had
fled
, leaving him
alone
with her.
He clutched his wounded hand, glaring at her with a mix of
pain and hatred
.
"This isn’t over," he spat.
Seraphis stepped closer, crouching so she was
eye level
with him.
"Oh, but it is," she murmured.
Then, with one final
strike to the temple
, she knocked him out cold.
The Aftermath
Seraphis stood, rolling her shoulders.
The chamber was
a mess
. Bodies on the floor, papers scattered, the scent of
blood and burnt candles
in the air.
She sighed. "They really should’ve just left me alone."
With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the
unconscious leader
as a reminder of what happened.
Let them send threats.
She’d just keep sending them back.