Chapter 198 - The Third Assassin

"What happened to you?!" Kinue exclaimed upon seeing me, dropping a cup to the floor of the apartment as a worried expression spread across her face.

Chloe and I had spent the weekend at the mansion but returned early so as not to be late for our classes at the Academy. Kinue hadn’t been with us during those days since she seemed to be going through a period of sensitivity. As a demi-human, her bestial form sometimes brought side effects like fatigue, pain, and drowsiness. It was a phenomenon that occurred while her body was still growing, both in her humanoid and bestial forms, until one day, as an adult, it would stop.

I had learned most of these things from living with Cylla and observing such changes in her physical and emotional state. Kinue, on the other hand, was more reserved when dealing with these crises. Sometimes, her animal instincts would flare up. I remember a time when we were younger, and she jumped on my back, pinning me to the ground. Back then, I didn’t understand the reason, but now I know it was related to her instincts. My phoenix friend, on the other hand, sometimes becomes extremely jealous and territorial.

“You look terrible!” Kinue rushed over to me, her eyes fixed on my bandaged arms.

The healing potion had treated about 80% of my external injuries, but some burns still remained. Inside, I could feel my bones slowly regenerating. It was a strange sensation, hearing the cracks of my body realigning itself. Most of the pain had subsided, but a trace of discomfort lingered.

My past training as an assassin had prepared me to endure a lot of pain. They had even cut off my fingers before, only to help reattach them using a healing potion. Even so, I was always amazed by the potion’s effectiveness and healing magic.

"It was a sudden mission…" I said, trying to reassure her.

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of concern and faint sadness. She held my hand, her cold fingers contrasting with the warmth of her touch. I felt embarrassed for a moment. A part of me wanted to protect her from this world, to keep Kinue from feeling obligated to fight alongside us. Over the past two years, she had withdrawn from field missions due to the academy, and Chloe and I had promised not to burden her with these responsibilities again.

"It's because…" I tried to explain, but her narrowed eyes showed doubt.

"You’re keeping me out, aren’t you?" Her voice was laced with hurt. "I knew it!"

“It’s not like that,” I tried to explain, but it was clear she wasn’t convinced.

Kinue sighed, and the sadness became palpable.

"I worked so hard to get stronger… Am I weak? I'm sorry… I thought I had improved." She sat on a nearby chair, her shoulders slumped, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“You’re not weak, Kinue; we never thought that about you.”

She remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing my words, but didn’t seem convinced. “I tried talking to Chloe about what the missions were like without me, but she always avoided the topic…”

Kinue looked up, and the weight of her words hit me hard.

“I promised to be your personal maid, yours and hers, remember?” Her voice was filled with emotion, a reminder of a promise we made in the past.

“I remember…” I replied, feeling ashamed.

She stood up and approached me with a mixture of determination and sadness. "If you think I’m weak, fine… I’ll prove you wrong and change that." Her hand gently touched my injured arm. "But until then, I'll still be a maid… even if just an ordinary one."

Before I could respond, she leaned down and kissed my bandaged hand, surprising me and making me blush slightly.

"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling awkward.

"I heard it helps with healing," she said, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Now, come on. I’ll make you breakfast, and I’ll have everything ready by the time Chloe finishes getting dressed."

She gently pushed me toward the kitchen.

"I'll pamper you a little. If you don’t see me as a warrior maid… then at least let me be your ordinary maid."

Quinn:

I was anxious about the silence. It had been days without any news from the other two assassins. Our mission was simple and clear: assassinate Nathan Evenhart. While they handled the abduction, I was in charge of the killing. We planned every step with precision, dividing tasks to avoid suspicion and ensuring our alibis were foolproof. After all, orchestrating the death of a high-ranking noble was a crime no one in their right mind would dare to commit on this continent.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The plan was perfect.

Nathan Evenhart wouldn’t just be killed. His death was to be staged as the result of his own vices and recklessness. First, he’d disappear for a few days, drugged and kept away from prying eyes. Next, we would begin his "journey" through villages and taverns around the city of Apsalon. To the public, he’d just be a wealthy young man enjoying his freedom, drinking and indulging in shady brothels. In the end, we’d return to the city, and he’d die of an overdose in some random street in Apsalon. The beauty of the plan lay in the doubts it would create. No one would know for certain how he really died or where he’d been while he was missing.

The kingdom would surely investigate Nathan Evenhart's sudden death, especially if it was from something as unexpected as a drug overdose. However, we had meticulously planned the scenario. As the investigation progressed, the clues would lead investigators to discover that he had spent days "enjoying" brothels and bars, always appearing drunk and drugged. Everything would be carefully staged to make it seem like Nathan Evenhart, a young noble, had succumbed to the excesses of his wealth and freedom.

To investigators, it would be a classic tale of a spoiled brat ignoring his responsibilities to indulge in worldly pleasures, only to meet a tragic and avoidable end.

The key to escaping an investigation is to ensure it happens—but that it’s conducted on your own terms. Fragmenting the clues, providing just enough information to mislead investigators, and allowing them to draw false conclusions was the essence of how an assassin should operate.

Nathan Evenhart, despite being a mage with a rare element, was nothing more than an inexperienced farmer. Ricardo and Eliza, my partners, were extremely powerful mages, trained assassins with precision. Any attempt by Nathan Evenhart to face them would, at the very least, seal his death.

"At least… that’s what I thought..." I murmured to myself, taking in the scene of devastation stretching across the forest.

The rain had been falling relentlessly for days, transforming the world around me into an ocean of darkness and chaos. Thick clouds dominated the sky, an oppressive curtain showing no signs of clearing. Lightning sliced through the air, followed by deafening thunder that reverberated across the gloomy landscape, shaking the ground and unsettling even the bravest of souls.

The journey here had been extremely challenging. The already rough roads had turned into muddy trails, with deep, treacherous puddles. Unexpected waterfalls cascaded from higher ground, forming torrents that threatened to sweep away anyone attempting to cross. The horses, usually faithful and obedient, were visibly distressed, neighing in fear at each thunderclap that exploded above our heads.

Along the way, I encountered groups of people seeking refuge in taverns and inns. The conversations were dominated by fear of the relentless storm that seemed never-ending. Men and women spoke of floods and signs of ill omen.

The forest was now enveloped in a thick fog that slithered between the tree trunks like a living creature. Visibility was limited, the air heavy with moisture, and an eerie silence lingered, broken only by the sound of heavy raindrops striking the foliage. The fog made the path even more treacherous, creating indistinct shadows and vague figures that could be either branches or something more menacing.

When I finally reached the site, I was overwhelmed by surprise and desolation. The place was in a miserable state: water had invaded every corner, turning the ground into a muddy swamp. What might have been solid terrain before was now a sea of mud and deep puddles, making each step a struggle.

The smell of dampness and slightly burned wood filled the air as the rain continued to fall mercilessly, intensifying the sense of abandonment and despair that emanated from the place. Fallen trees blocked parts of the path, their roots exposed by the force of the rushing waters, while bare branches swayed ominously under the howling wind.

The desolate landscape was a mix of darkness and devastation, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.

I walked for hours, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders as I tried to map the exact site of the battle. The devastation was terrifying: trees had been uprooted, others burned to their core, while some bore strange marks on their trunks, like scars from some supernatural force. The trail of destruction was impossible to ignore; the forest seemed to have been torn from its serenity and transformed into an abandoned battlefield.

“There’s no way Ricardo and Eliza could have lost to that boy…” I murmured to myself, incredulous, as I touched a tree with a large black stain on its trunk. The wood wasn’t burned, but there was something sinister about the mark—as if it had been struck by a tremendous magical force.

Eliza’s fire? Or maybe the boy’s thunder?

The rain fell incessantly, like a cold veil that refused to relent. The heavy drops struck the leaves and the muddy ground, complicating my search for clues. Water mixed with mud, making each step a challenge, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to understand what had truly happened here.

I found a wide trail of completely scorched and blackened trees, a path of destruction left by a giant fire jet.

Before me, a vast swath of completely burned and blackened trees stretched through the forest, like a deep scar on the landscape. The smell of charred wood was still pungent, even as the torrential rain tried to wash away the traces of chaos. It was as if a colossal fire jet had blazed through, mercilessly consuming everything in its path.

The scene was desolate: broken trunks, scorched to their core. Twisted trees, shredded by extreme heat, stood like black shadows against the gray mist.

Even with the flooded terrain and the marshes formed by the storm, I had no doubt who could have caused such devastation.

“Eliza’s Soul Golem…” I muttered, recognizing the familiar signature of the devastating power. That giant salamander, imbued with a unique destructive force, was capable of leaving such a fiery trail.

The path was wide and direct, a silent testament to the intense battle that must have taken place here. The Soul Golem was one of Eliza’s deadliest weapons, a creature of fire and fury capable of ravaging anything in its path with its blazing power. And now, seeing the destruction before me, I feared the worst had happened.

Ricardo and Eliza fought with everything they had, I thought, trying to imagine the intensity of the confrontation.

Ricardo and Eliza were seasoned assassins, not the type of fighters who would fall easily, especially in direct combat. Our basic rule had always been to never ask about each other's lives; it was an essential protection to keep our civilian identities intact. I was the contact, the link between them and the clients. They did the dirty work while I remained in the shadows, managing the contracts and keeping them invisible to the world.

I felt a tightness in my chest, a weight that grew heavier with each new sign of destruction. It was impossible not to be consumed by concern.

"For Nathan Evenhart’s sake, I hope he’s dead," I murmured. "And that my sister, Eliza, is merely missing, hiding somewhere due to severe injuries..."