2-3: Night time, a long overdue reunion.

Night time.

On the darkened tiled roofs of Trianna, two shadows glided like felines. The night wind howled as it played with their scarves, one of blood, and one of ash. With each confident step, they leaped from one rooftop to another, while the crescent moon’s light shrouded their presence against the foreboding dark sky.

Their ascent led them to the rooftop of a grand cathedral. They scaled the foreboding bell tower, their nimble fingers latching on every conceivable edge, ledges, window frames, and ornate carvings. Such was the art of thievery, to be able to take alternate paths. At last, they pulled themselves up to the bell chamber and met the gaze of a female Archer, her tone bare shoulder pressed against a weathered stone pillar.

"Salute," replied the Archer. She looked no older than 30, but experienced nonetheless.

Assa drew in a deep breath, casting his gaze over the expansive vista, within which the ominous Trianna Prison stood. It was known that the number of crimes in a city is reflected in the security of its prison, and Trianna was no doubt a crime ridden city. Rising dominantly against the horizon, the fortress was built with thick stone walls, three stories high, barring the solitary bell tower. Eight towers encircled the compound, linked by sturdy stone ramparts, each manned by a Wyvern Rider. These creatures appeared like miniature dragons, yet with two legs only. They stood watch atop their lofty perches, their silhouettes akin to giant gargoyles. Outside, a protective moat surrounded the prison.

"I already went ahead and put the bell tower guard to sleep," the Archer said.

"You really managed to hit him from this distance?" Assa said, pointlessly shading his eyes with his hand at this hour of the day. "That's quite impressive."

"You can go ahead and tell that to the rest of the Guild." Then she chuckled, "but nay, I have powder on the tip of my arrow. Just hitting any surface will release the powder and put anyone in the vicinity to sleep. Funny how the worst thing you can do with this method is actually hitting at the target."

"That's still pretty ingenious to me."

"Aw, aren't you a sweet talker? Bet that tongue of yours got you out of some real icky situations, huh?"

"In more ways than you think, if you believe me," Assa smirked.

The Archer chuckled, "Yeah right, boy! Alright, enough chit chat, you got the pay?"

Assa tossed a small bag of coins to the Archer.

"Sweet. Now then, let's get the show starting!"

With a decisive turn, the female Archer raised her bow and notched a special arrow. There was a small hole at its end, where a fine silver thread was attached. Setting her sights on the prison's bell tower, she let the arrow fly, drawing a clean arc from tower to another. It plunged into the prison tower's wall, the crunch of impact loss among the howling winds. The Archer held on to the wire, pulling it taut a few times before securing it to a stone pillar. Even from Assa's distance, the string was barely discernible.

"There you go," the Archer smiled.

"Thank you," Assa saluted her and walked ahead.

"Only three hours before the guards change shift, so you must come back to the tower before then if you want to get out this way. After that, I can't help you."

"That's more than enough for us, thank you," Assa stepped on the ledge, his crimson scarf fluttering under the night wind.

"I know it's not my business to poke my nose at what you're planning to do there," she called out, "but whatever it is, Cyrene's love guides you always, eh?"

"Oh? That’s quite cute of you to say that. I didn’t know you had that in you."

"Heh?"

With a swift motion, Assa threw his scarf over the silver string, then seized it firmly in both hands and leaped forth into the abyss.

Assa descended through the air like a diving eagle. Down below, he beheld the heart-pounding sight of the wyverns’ expanding pinions, silently praying for their oblivion. Don’t look up!

At length, his legs met the wall, bending softly against its strategically marred surface. Assa commenced his ascent, while Ero followed from behind. They quickly reached the bell chamber, where the Sentry’s body lay limp and unconscious on the floor.

Assa and Ero drew their shawl up over their noses, then descended the winding stair from the bell tower to the level below. Through a wooden door, they found themselves at the end of a long, dimly lit corridor, its stone floors and walls coated in a thick shroud of dust. On either side were rows of cells barred with black iron, illuminated only by the faint amber gleam of wall-mounted sconces. Within the shadows of the cells could be seen huddled forms, some deathly still, others weeping softly in the gloom.

Assa and Ero glided noiselessly down the passage, avoiding the guards with memorised clairvoyance. The layout of the prison and its patrol patterns were as familiar to Assa's keen mind as the information provided by the Black Fox.

At last, they came upon a door bound in black iron bands. Before it lay a sentry, supposedly standing guard though now in deep slumber. With a subtle gesture, Assa signalled to Ero, who nodded in silent understanding.

Assa withdrew from his pack a set of slender tools with strangely notched edges, his trusty lockpicks. Into the keyhole he inserted them, working with a skill born of long practice. Behind him, came muffled struggles as Ero subdued the sentry, wrapping his brawny arms about the man's neck until he fell still.

Stubborn was the lock, but Assa's deft fingers persisted until there came a satisfying click. Pushing the door open, he entered, glancing back to see Ero dragging the limp form of the guard inside the chamber.

Within the Warden's office, as deemed by the Fox, Assa and Ero scanned their surroundings in search of their objective. Assa approached the grand desk in the centre, while Ero surveyed the shelves and cabinets lining the walls.

Scattering of papers laying upon the desk proved to be of no use. However, his attention was turned to the chest right underneath. Locked it was, but such was no obstacle to Assa's skillful fingers. *Click*. With a practised motion, he lifted the trove’s lid and began rifling through its contents.

He noticed a ledger of some sort, a register containing the names of all prisoners within the prison's walls. There was a description of their crimes, and their respective cell locations. This is it!

"Ero!" Assa hissed, and the Assassin swiftly came beside him.

Assa's finger raced down the extensive rows of names, seeking a particular set of characters. Name: Lina. Class: Mage Knight. Noting the chronological arrangement of the entries, he swiftly rifled to the newest page. Three new names were added today.

None of them was Lina...

Assa's heart sank, but he was far from giving up. He studied the newcomers carefully. Kaleb, Esmond, Bord—none of these names appeared to be female. Their crimes appeared ordinary, mundane, insufficient to justify the stringent escorts for the morning prisoner's passage.

"This is odd. It’s as if the prisoner from the morning was not even scribed here," Assa clutched the ledger.

As he pondered the enigma, Assa felt a gentle touch upon his arm. Turning, he beheld Ero, extending a rolled parchment. Upon unfurling, it revealed a map of the prison's level. The layout bore resemblance to the one detailed by the Fox, save for one stark difference:

"Basement?" Assa exclaimed. "The Fox didn’t say anything about a basement."

With haste, Assa returned to the ledger, his gaze scanning the entries, tracing the cell locations of each prisoner. As he suspected, "Not a single prisoner is put in the basement, yet there are prison cells there." Assa muttered. "Or perhaps, the prisoners in the basement are simply not recorded here. Not even the Fox knows about his place. Goddess, this is huge."

Assa then located the entrance to this eluded basement, situated at the southeast corner of the ground floor. Nearby it was an out-of-place scribble that read: 'Coordinate 4,20'.

"We have to go there, Ero. This secret basement. That prisoner must be there." Assa closed the book, before turning to Ero.

Two rogues leapt from the high window of the office, grasping the rough stone with their sure hands. They descended to the dusty ground with the softness of spiders. Hugging the outer walls, they glided towards their new objective.

And lo, a row of ornate windows beheld them, unlike the crude functionality of the fortress's usual iron bars. Assa unlatched the frame with his skill and slid inside, his brother following close behind. Inside, the room was bathed in warm, flickering glows, the light emanating from four sconces and a grand fireplace. Decorated with plush armchairs and polished mahogany bookshelves, a reading room seemed to be its purpose, though unlikely for the incarcerated.

Assa's gaze lingered on a seemingly unremarkable wall, yet to his keen eyes, it whispered secrets invisible to others. Three bookshelves stood sentinel against it, two long flags draped above the left and right ones, while the middle one stood alone and bare.

Assa approached the middle bookshelf, his mind alight with the coordinates '4,20'. He counted four rows up, then twenty books to the left, anticipation building with each touch. Yet, behind the chosen tome, a plain grey stone stared back at him, a far cry from what he expected.

Undeterred, Assa moved to the left bookshelf, replicating the same sequence. As he pulled out the corresponding book, a keyhole emerged from the shadows.

Assa, the master thief of the two brothers, wove his lockpick through the intricate mechanism of the lock, confident in his tools. Yet, as the minutes trickled by, beads of sweat glistened upon his brow, and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips.

"Seems like you met your match," Ero said, with a smidge of smugness.

"I’d like to see you try, then. Nay? Then be useful and help me find the key, brother," Assa replied annoyedly.

As Assa returned to his tireless struggle, Ero embarked on an exploration of their surroundings, his gaze sweeping through every nook and cranny. After a time, the Assassin ventured away from the window, heeding Assa's counsel to explore the warden's office.

Assa, alone in the lavish chamber, silently swore an oath to conquer this unyielding lock before Ero's return. However, time continued its flight, and Ero reappeared, only to find Assa still locked in a futile battle with the stubborn mechanism.

The cold rogue threw a gilded key to Assa, which he caught with a defeated sigh. Then, he inserted the key into its rightful hole, and upon turning the device, a rumbling sound could be heard. The middle bookshelf began rotating, grinding against the stone entrance. It stood still at a right angle, revealing a dark, hollowed descent.

They began their descent into the darkness, the faint amber light at the end of the passage their only guide. At the bottom, an ancient archway stood, dimly lit by two flickering scones.

Beyond it, lay a vast and lofty chamber, its ceiling supported by mighty stone pillars, reminiscent of a cavern. The floor was a neatly arranged grid of galvanised square steel cages, through which revealed a basin filled with a strange, luminescent green liquid. A peculiar odour, dry and cloying, permeated the air, stirring unease in their hearts. Assa felt his body weaken, and instinctively, he tightened his shawl-turned mask around his nose.

They were walking on top of the cages, whose entrances are crude steel trap doors set onto the floor. Many were empty, but some contained a body each, lifeless, but perhaps not dead. Assa and Ero looked around, butterflies inside their stomach. This was their moment of truth.

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And lo, within one cage, lay one female figure…

It was not Lina.

She looked young, Assa wagered she was only around the same age as them. That was enough for him to know.

"So it's all for nothing after all," said Ero coldly. He looked like he wanted to cry, but no tears could come out. "Let's go."

Though not the woman they sought, Assa was still drawn to her nonetheless. Her visage, though marred by grime and hardship, bore a haunting beauty, her tattered garments barely concealing her frail and motionless limbs. Red lines, the scars of torment, etched themselves upon her skin. She seemed not much different from them in age, yet she had already suffered this much. Assa shuddered.

They had ventured into the depths of this abyss, he reasoned, and to abandon her here would be an act of unspeakable cruelty. She could not be a common criminal, not someone who had been cast into this pit of despair, their existence hidden from the official papers. She must have been a fighter, those who dared to stand against this unjust regime, and was punished as a result. It should be the right thing to do, he should at least save this girl.

"What are you doing?" Ero grabbed Assa's shoulder as Assa took out his lockpick.

"We should at least save her," Assa said, still looking at the girl, but above all avoiding Ero's gaze. "We already went all the way down here, and she looked like she was in much pain, and you know she's not a criminal."

"We should leave. Now is not the time to stick your nose in other people's business."

"I'm not going to leave her," Assa said. "She probably has her own Assa and Ero looking for her, but they are not here, we are. Imagine if they stumbled into a dungeon and found our mother instead. Wouldn't we want them to rescue her? You know she's no ordinary criminal. If we aid her now, she might owe us a favour, and who knows, perhaps she could lend us a hand in return."

"Tch..." Ero clicked his tongue in contempt, but eventually conceded. "Perhaps you’re the one who owes me, brother."

Assa smiled in relief, before turning his focus to the lock—a rather dull looking one. Came forth his trusty little lockpick, its tip grazing against the keyhole…

*BONG* * BONG* * BONG* * BONG* * BONG*

Bells tolled, their chimes piercing the silence. Assa felt his heart writhing, as if squeezed by an unseen hand. Curse Dameth!

"Leave now!" Ero hissed.

They raced toward the exit, Assa's plan of saving the girl was but a distant dream, faded into the shadow of their desperate escape. They ascended the stairs, passing through the bookshelf entrance. From the reading room's main entrance, a host of guards burst forth, their ominous faces illuminated by flickering flames.

They leapt out of the window and landed on the dirt, where another host of armed men awaited them. They raced along the outer wall, their optimism waned as they discovered themselves swiftly hemmed in. Trapped in all cardinals, they seeked the sky for escape as they latched onto the wall, an arduous ascent, while their pursuers flooded the ground below.

"ARCHERS!" a cry erupted, a harbinger of their doom.

But of course, within their reach was the opened window of the warden office. Assa and his brother flung themselves inside the chamber, just as a volley of arrows pricked the stone wall.

Through the steel door, they fled into the prison hall, their footsteps echoing alarmingly against the stone surfaces. Their destination: the bell tower. From the shadows, soldiers emerged, their sharp blades and tough armour forming a barricade. Assa and Ero, undeterred by the overwhelming odds, charged headfirst.

Taken from his mantle, Assa smashed a round object on the floor, and a cloud of grey smoke billowed forth. The guards stumbled and fumbled. Meanwhile, Assa slipped between their arms and legs with a practised familiarity, his golden short sword tracing through the swirling smoke like a shooting star. He impaled the heart of one man, sending him groundwards with a swift kick. Besides him, Ero, the elusive Assassin, was within his elements. Under the mist, he became a phantom, his form as if ethereal. No sword could touch him; he glided through the ranks of enemies, his red-stained knife slicing through their flesh with a whisper, relishing the taste of new blood.

They continued racing through the prison's labyrinthine corridors, Ero now leading the charge. Two paths lay before them, one guarded by eight men, the other by a smaller force of four. Ero charged towards the four Swordsmen and Axemen, his movements swift and silent. The first swordsman engaged, sweeping this blade across the cramp hallway, leaving no room to advance. But Ero, feline-like, leapt onto the wall and ran along it, slicing the Swordsman's neck in a single, fluid motion.

As he landed, an Axeman swung his weapon at him, but Ero evaded it by a hair's breadth. He then slit the guard's wrist, snatched the axe and hurled it at the second Swordsman, sending him crashing against the wall.

Meanwhile, the second Axeman slipped by Ero and swung at Assa. But Assa was also no slouch in combat. He dodged the blow, before seizing the guard's hand and pulling him close, sending his neck toward Assa’s blade at a blood-splattering encounter.

Assa and Ero kept moving forward. And although Ero was able to cleave a path through the ranks of their onslaught with ruthless efficiency, their stamina began to dwindle. Their lungs burned, their muscles screamed in protest. There were cuts on their skins already. Not much time left before they hit their limits.

Gasping for air, they stumbled into an expansive chamber, a large dining hall lit by flickering scones. They slammed the door shut behind them and jammed a sturdy chair beneath the handle. Their eyes darted around the room, taking stock of their surroundings. The walls were adorned with an array of weaponry, showcasing an assortment of styles, quality, and adornments. A lone door stood opposite them, offering a potential escape.

Yet, a solitary figure stood in their path, a haunting presence that sent a chill down Assa's spine, someone who he was terribly familiar with…

"No…" Assa choked, feeling nauseated. There the figure stood, stood draped in a black hood, a scythe clutched in its skeletal hands, a near perfect recreation from his nightmares. This couldn’t be…

With a slow, deliberate movement, the figure removed its hood, revealing a bald head and a scar, jagged and angry, stretching from cheekbone to chin. The lips it cut across formed a cruel sneer. His weathered face bore numerous wrinkles, yet his eyes remained unaltered, the same dark, cold eyes that Assa had seen that night, the night of Lina's capture, the night of this everlasting nightmares.

"You!" Assa growled, his hand shaken from squeezing his sword.

"Like luring rats with bread crumbs." He laughed with a hoarse voice. "I knew you would always choose the path with the least amount of guards."

Beside Assa, Ero slowly rose to his full height from his slump of breathlessness, as if revitalised by hatred. His blood-stained dagger aimed at the foreboding figure, his eyes devoid of emotion:

"To think that this day would come first. Very well, state your filthy name before I end your life, demon."

"Of course! I am the most renowned Headhunter of Mystict. Daement, son of Lorgen. Let that name burn into your brain before I plunge you criminal scums to the pit of hell, figuratively or literally. Consider it an honour for at least making this far."

"Headhunting, huh?" Assa exclaimed. "Then you remembered seven years ago? Did you capture a Mage Knight named Lina?! Where is she now?!"

"Huh? Curse Dameth if I remember. It was already seven years ago. But now that you mention it, hmm I think I remembered now. She was a little sparkley, right? She was pretty cute I have to admit, but I got bored of her pretty quickly-"

Ero vanished from Assa's sight like a wraith of vengeance. He leapt into high above, his daggers flashing like fangs of a venomous snake. Deament swiftly brandished his scythe, its blade swirling through the air, forming a lethal barrier, rendering him untouchable. Ero leaped back, contemplating his approach. Despite wielding a seemingly hefty weapon, the Headhunter manoeuvred it with a seasoned mastery. The scythe's reach allowed him to maintain a safe distance, a strategy he planned to take full advantage of.

Yet, Ero remained determined. Assa realised that if his brother could somehow close the gap, he could end the fight immediately. However, all participants of this battle knew that they were almost spent. How many tries could they attempt before time ran out on them?

Crouching low to the ground, Assa stealthily approached Daement, who was taking a stance atop a dining table. A momentary lapse of his foe’s attention was all Assa needed. If Ero could not close the gap, he would. A fair fight? Justice was a distant dream for those who had wronged his mother.

Ero lunged forward, his daggers flashing. Daement reacted swiftly, his scythe slicing through the air in a deadly arc. Ero twisted and dodged, narrowly avoiding the attack. The villain's crescent blade crashed into the table, cleaving it in twain with a thunderous crack.

Seizing the moment, Assa rose from the shadows, his golden sword ablaze with a righteous fury at his enemy's heart. Yet with a turn, the Headhunter’s cloak billowed, obscuring Assa’s vision like a dark haze. Thus, his lethal strike was rendered into a light graze. Then, Daement's skeletal fingers caught Assa’s wrist and, with a cruel twist, disarmed him with a clang on the wooden table..

"Argh!" cried Assa. Yet despite the bone-shattering pain, he caught the scythe's shaft with his other hand. From his rear, his Assassin brother was closing in.

"Twat!" cried the Headhunter, then came his roundhouse kick to Assa's stomach, sending him flying across the room. His body slammed against the rows of weapons hanging on the wall.

"GAH!"

A shrill cry tore from Assa's lips as he crashed onto a dining table. Tears oozed from his eyes and blood from his mouth, his spine felt as if broken into pieces. Weapons rained around him, adding insult to injury.

How could this be? How could their journey end at a note this low? The tormentor of his mother was laughing, yet they were powerless against him. Daement was too skilled, too alert, his scythe impenetrable…

Among the fallen weapons, one drew Assa’s gaze, a sword with a sheath wrapped in teal silk, its curved blade bore a crude resemblance to Daement’s curved edge. A revelation sparked within his mind. Perhaps, they had been too fixated on Daement himself. Perhaps, it was his weapon that they should have focused on.

Assa’s right hand lay limp and unresponsive, but with his left, he reached for the sword's hilt, managing to draw it a fraction. The blade emerged, pristine and keen, a glimmer of hope.

Suddenly, a piercing cry cut through the air. Assa's blurry vision caught sight of Ero flying across the room, felled by a savage kick from Daement. He didn't have much time, he had to act now. Move!

With his remaining willpower, Assa rose from the ground and hurled at the black-cloaked foe. No time for stance or strategy, his only hope lay in the element of surprise, and the unfamiliar sword he now clutched in his left hand...

This clean and curved sword.

He held it backwards.

It had to be done this way.

It was all he had left.

Assa rushed forth, weaving and turning. The Headhunter observed Assa with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with condescension. Assa knew his movement was pale compared to his Assassin brother. But he didn't need to be. Assa feinted to the left, then shifted to the right, before closing his distance, his body obviously open for an attack. Daemaent’s scythe descended, yet in that moment, Assa pivoted, altering his sword's path to meet his foe's attack.

The teal curved sword locked blade with the scythe’s crescent edge, their inseparable bind possible only through their shapes. Assa's intent became clear as he flexed his arm, straining against Dameth's strength, determined to wrestle the weapon from his grasp. The Headhunter held his ground, his superior physicality slowly taking over. But Assa was more desperate. His stance widened, his feet firm, and with a surge of will, he threw his weight into a twist, a forceful cry escaped his mouth. Both weapons were flung from their masters' hands, clattering loudly on the stone floor.

The exchange won, but at what cost? Assa found himself mere inches from Dameth with his back turned. The Headhunter, fully prepared, brandished a dagger from behind his back. His arm came down Assa like judgement.

*SWISH*

Blood spattered! But it was not Assa’s. A sudden cry came from Daement as he clutched his torso, where a blood-stained dagger was embedded in his flesh. Thinking quickly, Assa seized his opponent’s knife-wielding hand, and with the same technique the Headhunter once used against him, he wrenched the knife from his skeletal grasp, before delivering a decisive kick on his stomach. The Headhunter stumbled backward, his steps faltering, but the grievous wound forcing him to fall upon his knees, his once proud form humbled by the debilitating pain.

Assa towered over Daement, the stolen dagger he aimed at its own master. At his side, Ero joined him, his gaze fixed upon the Headhunter's diminishing figure.

"Speak," Assa said, his voice steely. "Where is Lina, the Mage Knight, whom you captured seven years ago?"

A dry, mirthless laughter issued from Dameth's lips, filled with contempt. "And what would you do if I told you?" he sneered. "Would you grant me mercy, boy? Do you believe yourself capable of such an act for someone like me? I think not."

Ero lunged forward, his eyes aflame with fury. He seized Dameth by the collar, his other dagger poised at the Headhunter's throat. "Where is she?!" he cried harshly. "Tell me now and you might die with some honour left!"

But Dameth's laughter only grew more grotesque, "Hahahahaha! By Dameth, what a stupid brat you are. Curse you! Your mommy’s gone, you will never find her. Killing me will do you nothing! Killing me won’t bring your mother back! Killing me won’t undo what I’ve done to h…"

"AAAAAARGH"

A hoarse scream filled the chamber, overflowing with pain, yet it was not Daement’s as he was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest. Assa stood there, unmoved at the horrific sight before him, gnawing his teeth, his hand shaking from the force with which he clutched the dagger. Despite being the ones delivering judgement, he felt no justice.

In the end, that man was not wrong. Killing him wouldn't get rid of their nightmares, Assa knew that. Ero knew that, tears streamed down his demented face as he administered his ruthless execution.

At last, Daement lay flat on the ground, blood-soaked and unmoving. Ero slumped over the man’s body, his form shaken.

Suddenly, a piercing pain lanced through Assa's head, so immense that Assa fell on his knees. Horrid visions danced before his eyes, memories that he had thought to bury deep within himself, now rose up to torment him. There was no light in their eyes. Lina's lifeless body, Ero's bloody corpse, master Treath's cold remains... No! No! It can't be! How could this happen? Where did I go wrong?! Why is everybody dead?!

Why is everybody dead?

Blood soaked their whole bodies...

Ma… Ero… Master…

They were calling his name, screaming it, so full of hate, so full of resentment…

I'm sorry…

It's all my fault!

I should be the one who died!

His eyes became heavy, his mind blurred, and before long, darkness had engulfed his entire body…