“The velociraptor is often seen as a small and innocuous creature compared to his larger reptilian brethren that roam the southern jungles. They are, however, perilously underestimated. One bite from these red-feathered demons can send a man into a pain of such relentless agony it will drive him mad before death can rescue him with warm arms. First, the individual will experience immense sweating, followed by a contorting and twisting sensation from within his stomach. He will ignore this at first, but then the second layer of pain will supplement itself, one that feels as if hot lava is running through one’s veins. Then the third layer of pain will cover the now thrashing victim, one of a consuming, unbearable acidic burning, which will send him kicking his legs until he no longer has the energy or will to kick them any longer. Some hours later, if an antidote is not administered, they will be granted the second-best gift they could ask for at this moment: the sweet release of death.
Sir Rodney Corbat – Tales of the Fortune Hunter Knight. 1305.
The night was a special kind of silent. There were stars in the sky, yet their shimmers were dwindling and meek as if they were all afraid. The moon appeared to be hiding behind the clouds, with only small beams of luminous white rays peeking through the dark grey tears. The New Jade City Library stood tall among the older buildings surrounding White Raven. It was a new shining god joining a table of the old and forgotten deities that the pious no longer prayed to or cared to remember. Its walls were built with white marble, making it appear somewhat related to the Jade Palace, and it towered over the city streets in a formidable way. It looked more like a castle than a hub for knowledge, although it might as well have been one. Only the wealthy would be allowed into its walls. Less so, only a few dozen nobles, the highest lords, and ladies were invited to the opening night. The building was also a bastard for the Night Fang to climb.
The brand-new smooth marble left extraordinarily little crevasses, grooves, or bricked edges for him to grab a hold of. Fortunately, construction on the White Raven Library had not yet been fully completed and most of the workmen had been retired for the evening, allowing the Night Fang to use the remaining scaffolding and ladders to make his ascent. He yearned for the Gargoyle’s tower. Climbing the old gothic architecture was a much easier and more natural process. Although he did not relish the thought of being kicked out of it again by the Queen of Thieves. However, who he would be facing tonight would be sure to make him also miss that smug garrulous Thief King and his sullen conniving Queen. Tonight, he would be facing the Inferno. Nissaro was enough of a handful for Hideo, and he was only one of them. I have an ace in the hole; he reassured himself. A deadly, unpredictable one, but an ace regardless.
The Night Fang climbed multiple ladders over increasingly precarious wooden platforms and constructs until he sighted an open circular window a few metres away from the shaky and creaking ladder he was currently clinging onto. He was high at this point of the climb. Too high to survive the fall. The smallest whispers of the wind kept the ladder twitching and inching disconcertingly out of balance. He leapt for the window without second-guessing. The first hand slipped across the smooth white surface that had apparently been oiled with something indiscernible. The second hand managed to grasp tight enough that the Night Fang avoided meeting his end before the night had truly started. He steadied himself with his zaffre boots crouched against the milky white wall that shined off the cloudy moonlight before flinging his slipped hand back onto the edge.
To his peril, his left hand slipped again and the fingers on his right were becoming pained, dragging off the edge by the rest of his hanging body.
A scarred hand shrouded in black grabbed his struggling arm and lifted his upper body over the edge. “Need some help, chosen and feared warrior of the Night Fangs?” Amaya asked with her casual mockery as she lured the Night Fang through the round window.
“You still plan to chastise me, even in my debt?” the Night Fang asked wryly as he stood onto another long platform within the library’s walls, steadying himself.
The Blue Archer that the Fraternity of Fangs had named “Arrowcat” gleamed at him with a devilish smirk. Her war paint was slashed across her face, just as the many scars laid underneath were long ago. Her sapphire bow hung loosely around her cloaked shoulder. “Not mocking you was never part of the agreement. You might want to look over the platform. I’m afraid you will not like what you see.”
The Archer Assassin was correct. The Night Fang most certainly did not like what he saw when he overlooked the library. They were too late, despite it not even being midnight. Bookshelves stretched out across the long hall and towered so high that he and the Archer could leap from the platform to the top of the first shelf with ease and without being spotted by the guards below. Unfortunately, and much to the Night Fang’s dread, the guards were not City Watch, nor were they the Viscount’s private escort.
Some of them carried long spears. Others carried katanas sheathed across bladed belts, and all of them bore demonic masks. It was as if the entire library had been compromised by a small army of Nissaros. Each mask appeared different with each Inferno assassin. Some had long curved beaks made of iron, with protruding blunt blades around the back of the mask resembling iron feathers, appearing as some cross with an oni demon and a phoenix. Another had the same steel smile adorned with bronze teeth that took the Night Fang back to that wretched night at the Duke’s manor. What they all had in common was the grotesquery. The Inferno assassins would certainly be terrifying for an ordinary civilian to gaze upon, especially a noble. Some of the assassins mechanically patrolled through the library’s long maze of gigantic bookshelves whilst others were forcefully ushering Viscount Renard’s unfortunate guests to the front of the hall, gathering them under a large portrait of Queen Sona that overlooked the entire library. The long-dead queen sported plated armour of jade and bronze, her long golden hair flowing freely as she stood in front of the verdant land that was to become New Jade City. Her oiled eyes watched in disapproval as her people were pushed into a small group and encircled by the Inferno.
The Night Fang was unsettled. He wanted a closer look at the hostages. He motioned for Amaya to follow him along the bookshelf they stood on top of. They both leapt onto another wooden platform used for construction, this one providing a much better view of the front of the hall. The creaking wooden planks underneath them did not put him at ease. Their movements were like cats, slowly and carefully inching closer to their prey.
The lords and ladies appeared as distressed as one would imagine people being taken hostage by men in demon masks would appear. One of the older ladies in a hennin wept into her husband’s breast whilst another in a red dress stood alone from the others and unafraid, giving each passing assassin a stone glare. This did not seem to unease or throw the Inferno off, not for lack of trying. One of the bearded lords in a long green kaftan attempted to bribe and threw coin at an assassin who bore an iron curved beak. The Inferno guardsman picked up the Gold Bear piece and tossed it back at him, loudly cursing at him in Arkovian. Another lord donning a bear pelt cloak was rather less dignified, rocking back and forth in a curled-up ball in the corner and incessantly murmuring prayers. There were about a dozen captives in total. They were all in a panicked myriad of fear and desperation.
An almost supernaturally large Samurai in a black and gold kabuto with a ghostly spiked face then approached the frantic hostages and shushed them all with a singular, yet firm command. “Quiet,” was what it translated to, but Hideo doubted that the Midland New Jade nobles spoke Arkovian. They all fell silent, although some of them continued to sob quietly.
“A most intriguing read,” came a hideously sharp voice. It wafted from behind one of the library’s walls of bookshelves. What emerged appeared more demon than man. Under a pointed blood-red hood was a raptor’s skull, as white as curdled milk with bottomless pits of darkness for eyes. His red jacket was clasped together by various silver broaches resembling reptilian claws. He held a fresh-looking book in one hand, the other he had tucked around his back. The Night Fang noticed the unused hand brandished a leather gauntlet, with a curved claw where the index finger should have been. Behind the deathly looking individual trailed Viscount Reynard Woodard and two more Inferno assassins escorting him from both sides. “Truly, Viscount Reynard, who wouldn’t want to read about the history of the erection and construction of the Jade Palace? It is a most invigorating page-turner.”
“Do you mock me, assassin?” the Viscount asked contemptuously. He usually held a fearless and derisive countenance for almost everyone below his station, but Hideo found himself respecting the Royalist for holding his iron gaze even against people threatening his very life. The Hooded Raptor threw the thick spine of the book at the Viscount’s face. Reynard gracefully wiped the blood from under his nose and stood tall.
“Of course, I’m bloody mocking you!” the masked figure yelled hoarsely. The voice was strange. He certainly did not appear to have been raised in Arkovia. His voice was that from the roughest parts of New Jade. A voice that had been broken and lacked empathy or grace. “You venerate yourself too much, Viscount,” he croaked, walking closer to Reynard to a point where the beak of the large raptor’s skull was inches from his eyes. “All the literature that surrounds us is nothing but Greenfire propaganda.” He then turned to address the frightened and quivering hostages, raising his clawed hand. “And that is why you all shall watch it burn to the ground.”
Viscount Reynard attempted to dart towards the Hooded Raptor. The Royalist was quickly held down by the two escorting assassins. They grabbed his arms and brought him to his knees, which slammed into the marble floor. “You’re a lunatic!” the Viscount declared in pain, his dignified wall breaking. “I worked closely with the Duke and Duchess to constitute this library. Allow me to keep it in their memory-”
The Hooded Raptor turned and paced up to him, his hoarse voice turning into scorching hot coals. “The Duke and Duchess don’t deserve a happy memory! When I am done, their legacy will be as tainted as yours.” He slapped the Viscount hard with his clawless hand. Reynard’s blood was now stained into the open book’s pages, flecks of red dampening the inked words.
As the Night Fang watched from above, he glanced at the Archer Assassin next to him. She was observing with curiosity and with the slightest emergence of an intrigued smirk. “I think we’ve found our Thane,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off the commotion below. The Night Fang feared that she was correct.
Viscount Reynard attempted to stand, struggling between the two assassins holding him down with iron gauntleted arms. “You don’t frighten me,” he defied. “You use fire to scare and hurt people. It’s a coward’s weapon.”
The slight beckoned the Hooded Raptor back, who was about to address the hostages again. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Viscount,” he said with a voice of burning firewood. Quieter that time, yet seething. He grabbed Reynard Woodard with his clawed hand, the sharp end of the steel claw caressing his neck. “Tell me, is there a book about your little religion from 1250? I’m sure your adoring audience would be most curious to learn about that.”
The Viscount’s look was scornful. He spat blood into the raptor’s skull. The blood stood out on the white and shined gaudily. Reynard Woodard leaned in close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with iron.
“Every time you lie to me, I feel my blood begin to boil a little more,” the Thane of the Inferno said with a screeching whisper. His clawed grip on the Viscount’s shoulder grew tighter. “Perhaps I should’ve brought Redeye with me. She can make people talk with ease, but I’m happy to cut the truth out of you inst-”
Reynard started croaking. As if the air had vanished from within him. His mouth gaped open. Blood started trickling down from the side of his thin, curled mouth. His eyes were still alive. They frantically looked to his side and widened. The curved raptor claw was fully embedded into his left shoulder blade.
The Night Fang flinched in anger. He was about to drop down to intercede when Amaya grabbed his arm with her scarred hand. “Do you really think it is wise for us to fight them all at once?” she questioned with that patronising tone.
“I know that wheeze the Viscount made,” Hideo hissed in his normal voice. “He’s reacting the same way Anastasia did.”
“Let the event unfold, Hideo,” Amaya whispered, not unkindly. “We need to pick them off one-by-one.”
Down below, the Hooded Raptor yanked his curved index claw out of the Viscount’s shoulder. “Bollocks,” he said in casual irritation. “That was not meant for you yet, little viscount. Now we are at madam time’s mercy. I intend for you to die watching your precious work turn to ashes around you, and not a second sooner.” He clicked with his clawed finger and the demon-faced assassins around him stood firmly to attention. He turned to face his audience of captives with his clawed hand tucked behind his back. Hideo wondered if that was this twisted individual’s way of showing clemency towards them. “You all shall be escorted downstairs where you will watch your beloved Viscount wither away.”
“Please spare us,” the older woman in the hennin begged, finally tearing herself away from her husband’s doublet'd bosom.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“Oh, you all shall be allowed to leave,” the Hooded Raptor reassured her. “Who else will tell the papers of what happened here? Assuming none of you tries anything against my fellow assassins or in any way aid the Viscount.” He clicked his steel finger again and, as if fastidiously rehearsed, the assassins scattered forward in a synchronised manner.
Many of them followed the giant Samurai, escorting the hostages towards the stairs whilst the Thane left in the opposite direction with three others. Two other assassins remained and began to light matches. They lurked through the library bookshelves where the sounds of flickering flames were soon heard.
The Night Fang looked at Amaya with piercing eyes. “Go after the hostages and rescue them and the Viscount,” he commanded, his modulated echo beginning to return to his voice out of habit. “I will pursue the Inferno’s Thane.”
Amaya’s lips curled, and an eyebrow raised above her scarred face. “Hideo, is that wise?”
“You can handle them. Just like you said. Pick them off one by one until only a few remain-”
“I was actually more concerned with what you would be doing,” she cut in. “The others at Darkfall may hail you as some unstoppable force of nature, but I know you just got lucky that night in Star Snow. Fighting the Inferno Clan’s Thane will not end well for you.”
Behind his black and sapphire mask, Hideo ground his teeth. “I don’t see a better choice. If we both pursue the Thane, the Viscount will die.”
“Then let us both pursue the Viscount,” Amaya concluded.
“No,” the Night Fang obstinately objected. “The Thane can’t get away.”
“You’re letting your emotions take you down a bad path,” Amaya cautioned. “Alas, I am the one in your debt, so if this is your asinine wish, then so be it.” She leaned in close to the side of his mask and whispered. “We had some fun times back in Arkovia. I hope this isn’t the last I see of you.” She leapt down from the platform.
She moved so quickly that the Night Fang already lost sight of her before he himself landed on the library’s grey marble floor. On silent footsteps, he walked down the long line of bookshelves to see that Amaya had already done away with the two arsonist assassins, their bodies sprawled out and buried under dozens of open and toppled books. The Night Fang moved cautiously down the towering aisles until he saw one alive assassin in a bronze mask adorned with spikes that stretched over and around the scalp as if styled as a mohawk and circling around to a row of iron teeth. He was about to drop the match into an open paperback when the Night Fang kicked him in the back of the knee and took a hold of the chin of the fiend’s mask. The Night Fang forcefully lifted it to expose the weak point of his neck. The Inferno assassins were fair game, all their ends explicitly ordered by the Empress. He unsheathed his curved dagger and with a slash and a gargle; it was over.
From the aisles of bookshelves beyond him, he began to hear the flames flourishing, crying out as if having just been born. When he looked up, he saw smoke beginning to fill the domed ceiling. He could smell suffocating ash and the air dying.
When he ran back to the front of the hall, he saw that the painting of Queen Sona had become infected by the fire. Her face deteriorated whilst the verdant land behind became engulfed in orange swirls. The Night Fang brought himself back to his senses and ran after the man in the skull mask.
He nearly made it to the iron doors but was pounced upon by an Inferno in a bronze and black oni mask. The oni pinned him to the ground and looked at him through contorted eyeholes and iron fangs. The Night Fang withdrew his curved dagger and slashed it against the steel katana that was brought down on him. The Night Fang kicked him away and parried another slash from the oni’s katana that showed the rising flames emerging around them in the reflected steel. Out of desperation, the Sapphire Assassin grabbed one of the scattered books that had not caught the blaze and used it to shield the next attack. The point of the oni’s katana lodged itself firmly into Seasons and Sorrows, a hardback romantic novel. The Night Fang snatched the book away, along with the sword, spun, and kicked the oni directly in the bronze chest plate. The oni assassin fell on his back. The Night Fang made one deft throw and his curved dagger penetrated the assassin’s throat, just under the mask. The Night Fang dislodged his curved blade from the limp oni and kept moving.
Once he pushed through the iron doors, it felt like he had been transported into a different world. The walls were filled with faded green stone bricks and when the sounds of burning books and memories were cut off by the iron doors behind him, everything fell to a peaceful silence. He faced a long corridor, and it appeared that no assassins were ordered to remain there. Through nothing but guesswork and simple inclination, the Night Fang turned left and ran. Eventually, the stone walls dissipated and faded away until he found himself walking above poorly constituted scaffolding, wooden planks being the only thing keeping him from a long and deadly fall. He was still within the grand library’s walls. It just appeared that the crown had forgotten to build this section. It soon occurred to the Night Fang that he was perhaps walking above what was to become a long, cavernous spiral stairway as down the end of the thinning wooden walkway was no doorway but a green and gold stained-glass window of King Sigismund Greenfire. His glassy eyes watched the Night Fang with a furtive gaze.
“Night Fang,” he heard the unpleasant voice call from behind him. He was standing at the other end of the walkway where the Sapphire Assassin had just arrived from. It chilled the Night Fang to the bone to think that he had been the one being chased and followed the entire time. The red-hooded man in the raptor’s skull mask raised a long and curved scimitar in one hand and a black and bronze katana in the clawed one. The katana, evidently, had already been used, as it was stained by some poor soul’s blood. “You’re a hard man to pin down,” the Thane of the Inferno said hoarsely.
“The feeling is mutual,” the Night Fang echoed, feigning calmness.
“That is quite the outstanding suit of armour that you’re wearing, and that voice!” He failed the scimitar around dramatically. “What a spectacle! No man would sound like that if he did not fear for his identity. Who are you then?”
“I was going to ask you the same question,” the Night Fang replied. He could hear the precarious wooden planks he stood on creaking in the cold draft.
The Hooded Raptor shook his curved, clawed finger from side to side. The katana dangled in his hand as he tauntingly tutted. “That’s not how this works. Tell me, Night Fang, has your Empress ordered you to end me?”
“Yes,” the Night Fang said.
“Not surprising. But what does perplex me is why your ancient order is so eager to protect such a tyrant as Sigismund Greenfire. Has your Empress not told you about his little cult from the twelve-fifties?”
Through the visor of his mask, the Night Fang raised an eyebrow incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
The Hooded Raptor started laughing nastily. He sounded like a cackling Hell Pig from the Arkovian forests. “You really don’t know?”
“We owe him a debt,” the Night Fang said hesitantly. “We are to protect him from your pyromaniac clan.”
The Thane’s laughter grew nastier. “So, the Empress doesn’t know either. Kind Sigismund is playing her like a fiddle.”
The Night Fang could feel his blood transitioning from fearful to hateful. The skull-adorning monster’s sadistic laughter was unveiling a sudden anger within Hideo as he remembered Anastasia’s last moments. Her puffy and pleading eyes had been burned thoroughly into his mind and nightmares. “What of Anastasia Aubrey?” he found himself asking with his echoing voice turning thicker and fiercer. “She wasn’t a royalist. Why did she have to die?”
The raptor skull tilted slightly and the bottomless pits in the eye sockets appeared curious. “Because she knew yet did not act. And why is a ninja assassin seemingly so attached to the likes of her?… Nothing to say to that? Most interesting.” He tossed the katana and it landed by the Night Fang’s zaffre boots. “Well come on then, little tiger,” the hooded ghoul taunted. “The Empress has ordered my death. Do your duty and fight like a ninja.”
The Night Fang picked up the blade and steadied himself on the walkway. He took a cautious step, the creaking echoing down the cavernous and stairless stairway. He twirled the katana in his hand to get a feel for it in the few moments he had before the Hooded Raptor descended upon him. It did not surprise the Night Fang that he had been given the rustier, worn-down weapon for the duel. All the light and shine had been beaten out of the blade, and the pommel felt sweaty and stained with overuse.
The Thane of the Inferno brought his scimitar on him slower than one might expect, but there was a power and force behind the downward slash that caused the Night Fang to jump back like a scared cat rather than parry and deflect. When the Thane slashed the scimitar upwards, the Night Fang clashed his katana against it. The blades screamed and screeched a sad song as the two assassins fought for dominance over their weapons. Eventually, the red-hooded fiend kicked the Night Fang back and dragged his scimitar away with another harsh screech. He swung diagonally. The Night Fang managed to agilely dodge and returned the attack with a quick straight thrust of his katana. The Hooded Raptor whacked it away with his steel claw like it was nothing but a nuisance fly and walked closer towards him. Hideo felt as if he was facing death himself. This is what they felt, he thought, thinking of the cruel men he had slain back in Arkovia, about Nissaro and the assassins he had dealt with back in the burning library mere moments ago.
The Hooded Raptor had apparently grown tired of the back and forth and revealed his true fury. He started swinging the scimitar with frantic and unwavering agility that the Night Fang struggled to keep up with. His parries and dodges became meeker, the breaths behind his black and sapphire mask becoming louder and desperate. He kept stepping back with each powerful hit the Hooded Raptor’s scimitar dealt him. His katana sounded like it was on the verge of snapping like a tiny twig. Each clash against the waning steel resulted in the katana making a metallic howl.
It wasn’t long before the Night Fang felt his back being pressed against the cold stained glass. He blocked another of the Thane’s brutal swings of the scimitar, using the pommel of his katana to keep both their blades locked in place and spare himself the final fatal blow. “Watch out for your king, Night Fang,” the Hooded Raptor hissed gleefully as their swords sang in their embrace. He launched his body forward into the Night Fang and King Sigismund Greenfire smashed into pieces around them.
The stars had dwindled and completely died when the Night Fang fell through the first wooden floor of scaffolding outside the library window and crashed into a weak tripod holding building appliances. When he looked up, with his body winded and quite possibly fractured, he saw that the grey clouds had consumed everything that stood in their way. He also saw the wild red flames dancing around the top of the library’s tallest tower. The Night Fang and that masked monster had not been the only ones smashing windows during the cold night. Fire and explosions set up by the Inferno had made sure that not a single glass tribute to the Jade City monarchy remained to grace the marble architecture. The Night Fang supposed that he should have been grateful that the scaffolding above had cushioned the fall. He grunted in pain as he looked around to see that he had landed on the library’s lower roof, which stood at a more modest size, matching the height of the White Raven buildings around them.
Unfortunately, Hideo had not been the only lucky one. He felt a swift kick hammer into his shin. The Hooded Raptor then kicked him in his black and sapphire mask. The Night Fang reached for his katana but found nothing but debris and dust laying next to him.
There was another hard kick, this time in the kneecap. “Who do you think you are?” the Hooded Raptor’s voice was scorching. He kicked him again with the pointed end of his soot-black boot. He was lacking his scimitar after the fall. Instead, he slashed his steel, clawed finger down on the Night Fang in a relentless and animalistic ferocity. The Night Fang blocked the first slash with his sapphire gauntlet. “I have spent years planning for this,” the Raptor continued shouting furiously. He slashed the curved claw again.
The Night Fang blocked it with the other gauntlet. “Do you really think I’m going to allow that blue-haired harlot to send her little pets to ruin everything I have prepared?”
The Night Fang lost his luck on the third slash. The raptor claw embedded into his upper arm. He ignored the stabbing pain, pulled the clawed hand out and kicked the Hooded Raptor away. He crawled towards a wooden shard that had joined him on the fall from the scaffolding. The broken wood was mouldy, decayed, and sharp. “It boggles my mind that she sent just two assassins,” the Thane of the Inferno continued admonishing. He stepped down hard on the Night Fang’s leg. Behind his mask, Hideo winced. “What is so special about you? What power do you possess that she thought you would be enough?”
The Night Fang stretched his arm close enough so that the shard was within arm’s reach, but with the Thane’s boot pinning his leg to the ground he could crawl no further. “Let me show you,” the Night Fang echoed as he felt his hand beginning to vibrate and burn. Blue sparks, the purest colour of blue, started to flicker from his hand. With the other, he reached out and grabbed the wooden shard. The Night Fang leapt up and launched his blue sparkling fist into the Hooded Raptor. The red-hooded figure grabbed him by the elbow, the sparks from the Night Fang’s fingertips mere inches from his milky white skull yet impotent to do any damage. With his other hand, the Night Fang slashed the wooden shard across the Raptor’s leg. There was a screech. The masked monster released the Night Fang from his grasp. As an acidic, burning sensation started to creep around his torso, the Night Fang dropped a small zaffre pouch and sapphire dust burst into a swirling neon cloud of blue around them.
With his opponent temporarily blinded, the Night Fang took his chance and desperately limped away. The pain of the venom was starting to take hold, and he stood truly no chance of seeing the fight to its end. From behind his mask, Hideo was sweating profusely. He felt something strange in his pained belly, as if his guts were shifting and trying to swap places with one another. He ran to the edge of the roof and grabbed the first ladder he saw. He slid down onto another platform. He assessed that he could survive the drop from here. He sighted an unattended carriage. Hideo would have preferred that it had been filled with hay, but he supposed the empty boxes and crates were better than nothing. His stomach twisted inside into a tight, unyielding knot. He winced. He knew what was happening to him. If Anastasia and the Viscount were anything to go by, then he did not have long. Where could a masked and wanted man seek aid in the heart of the city?
He leapt just as another twisting sensation erupted around his abdomen. The wooden crates made a most unpleasant cacophony of smashing sounds when he landed. He did not notice any further pain, externally, that is. Inside him, his stomach was in agony and the burning sensation crept around through his veins like crawling hot lava. He struggled out of the wreckage and limped around a corner and into a dark alleyway.
The pain was searing at this point, as if he had been stung by a thousand scorpions. He could hear the dinging of bells from the City Watch carriages in the distance. There was yelling and shouting from civilians and watchmen alike, only a few streets away. The lava running through his veins became hotter, reaching a level of agony that Hideo did not think was possible. He rested against the stone wall, dragging his body along it. Down at the end of the alley stood a figure shrouded in night-time shadow. The figure appeared to be leaning over something, perhaps a bundle of hay or some saddlebags. Hideo could not see who it could have been, for his vision had become blurry and split. Perhaps it was a noble, perhaps a watchman, maybe another Inferno assassin. The pain was too great for him to care anymore. His body slid down against the stone wall and the Night Fang fell into a muddy puddle. His stomach twisted again, and his veins burned and flared. He saw the hooded shadow rising and taking notice of his presence.
“P… Pax…” was the only word that he could muster before everything turned dark and cold.