An elite group of assassins advanced toward the outpost with this world’s star rising behind them. Each one employed their own method of achieving stealth, whether through their bloodlines, combat arts, or pure physical skill. They quietly sneaked through the tents and past the unsuspecting guards, who were focused on recent arrivals. In a sudden, brutal attack, two shadows pounced on the nearest soldiers, killing them both—one with a slit throat and the other with knives through his eyes sockets. However, in a distracted, amateurish moment of violent inebriation, a sword fell, its resonating clink alerted nearby guards.
"Assassins!" a torrent of voices cried out. "Two spotted southeast!"
The soldiers assumed defensive positions and alerted the whole outpost.
"Rommien and Souriel are down!"
“Damn it! Get in position!” they shouted to each other.
The captain sprang into action, shouting orders. "Lieutenant Abaddan, take one man and flank them. Spotters, activate wards and drop two Protocols of Invalidation!" Grandiloquent words meant to be on active spotting duty for assassin-type combat units and deploying countermeasures, supported by wards. Seven soldiers moved into defensive positions as word spread throughout the camp.
"Rainel, beside me, we defend the spotters,” commanded the captain. “And you Sheileina, my beautiful witch, you know what to do."
The human squad moved cautiously. Some strode confidently, having obtained anti-assassin training, despite being ambushed by concealed attackers. Though the captain suspected a spy amongst the company, he had no time to dwell on speculations.
Both spotted assassins moved back into the shadows.
“Woinky? A freaking sword!?” the piggish-sounding assassin demanded answers.
“Shiiitbag twitched strange, the fuuuck am I to do!?” her fellow assassin baaed his response.
“Oink! Oink! Your fucking job!” Between squeals and snorts, she reprimanded her fellow assassin.
At the other side of camp, shrouded figures prepared to strike.
“Damn it! Two spotters, Heiran, and a witch,” exclaimed Ferraine.
"Leave the captain to me. Forget everyone else and get the two spotters. Signal Orjas and Yeres to make them their top priority, then the witch... Now!" ordered the assassin orc.
Ferraine’s fiery eyes burst alight, and she vanished soon after. She took an advantageous position in a blind spot near the human squad and kept advancing, hidden by her race’s inherent cloaking capabilities. The female assassin moved like an unnatural smoke, a hazy mist—legacy of her bloodline. She then performed a combat art, creating a whistling sound with the exact frequency signaling the two spotted assassins to follow her lead.
"Incoming attack from the flanks!" soldiers shouted as the squad scrambled to defend their spotters.
“Ahrgh!”
A spotter fell to several daggers in the chest and an elemental spear rammed through his nose. Ferraine, Orjas, and Yeres moved to the next one, but Lieutenant Abaddan arrived just in time to defend the second spotter from certain death, blocking the assassins' ranged attacks. After that first burst of action, the assassins stood in the open, their specialized assassin-type combat arts greatly diminished by the survival of one spotter.
“Fuck! They got Jhussel!” shouted a soldier.
Combat art after combat art burst into being from humans and putrajados alike. The witch began to recite an incantation, while the captain charged into the melee, swinging his two-handed sword at the nearest assassin.
“Heee’s quick!” shouted Orjas, the baakin.
“Damnoink!” seconded Yeres, his feralis companion.
A clank boomed, followed by sparks as metal clashed against metal. Heiran used his short sword to stop the captain’s swing.
“Thaaanks!” bleated the baakin.
“Look alive,” said Heiran to the assassins as the lieutenant and two other knights began casting combat arts and engaged them in combat.
Ferraine dashed towards the witch, she needed to go down, but two knights stood between her and her target. She pushed forwards, buffed with magic. The knights swung at the incoming assassin, but Orjas and Yeres stopped their attacks.
“Damn it! Shielena!” yelled the human captain.
“Cometh God of the Underworld, Shaktyur—” The witch was finishing her casting when Ferraine, who furiously rushed her position, buffed herself again and used a mid-range assassination art. “Silent Assailant!” This severed the witch’s left arm.
“Arghh! My arm you bitch!” screamed the witch.
“Sheileina!” yelled the captain.
Her magic hanged in the air for a couple seconds before shooting out randomly.
“Incoming!” warned Lieutenant Abaddan.
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Everyone scrambled to dodge the black-goo missiles falling from the sky.
“Ah!” Ferraine had been struck on her right shoulder, which burned from the corrosive touch of the witch's coral flames. However, she didn't have time to assess the damage as the surviving spotter and lieutenant descended on her.
With a spotter still alive and the witch not yet out of commission, the assassins needed to act quickly. The longer the fight dragged on, the worse their odds beccame. Heiran was evenly matched with the formidable captain, and neither could assist their allies. Two knights fought back-to-back, shields raised like a single tower, while two agile figures unleashed flurry of attacks on them. Sheilena cast a spell on her severed arm to temporarily stop the bleeding. After the initial shock, she started casting again, one-handed. It could be her last spell in the battle, but she refused to go down without a fight.
Orjas and Yeres clashed in an intense battle, while an injured Ferraine struggled against two relentless pursuers. A barely conscious Sheilena mustered the strength to cast a powerful spell that would lock their enemies in place. “Oh, Lost Disruptor of Vengeance and...” she began.
At the last moment, a fifth shadow swooped in, slamming into the witch and interrupting the final, critical part of the spell—the target-acquiring incantations. Slllamagga crashed down, bringing the witch along with her.
“Ah! What the—!” yelled Shielena.
“Shit!” Slllamagga barely escaped her spell.
Magic surged forth, unguided, striking a knight and paralyzing him. Orjas and Yeres capitalized on the opportunity and dispatched the knight in a flashy manner; his head rolled to their feet. Momentum tipped in their favor, and they pushed forward. Yeres and Orjas found their next target, the spotter, who ran but not fast enough. The lieutenant and the last surviving knight tried to stop the two feralis assassins, but only managed to halt the baakin, Orjas. Yeres continued on and plunged a dagger into the spotter's heart, ending his life. Only three soldiers remained.
Upon the last spotter’s death, the assassin squad could almost taste victory. His ward would soon expire, allowing them to freely stealth and stalk from the shadows once more. All fighting creatures understood the current situation, the tide had turned in the assassin’s favor. Yet Yeres, overconfident, moved toward the captain, attacking from behind.
“Yeres, wait!” Heiran raised his voice.
Taking advantage of their decomposing team fight, the lieutenant and a knight dashed towards the assassin’s leader, while their captain buffed himself, turned around, and struck the attacking assassin in her abdomen.
“Ahrg!” she screamed.
Without any more time to lose, Heiran began the Deathblade Dance, while Ferraine and Orjas met an enraged lieutenant and knight midway and engaged in a ferocious battle.
Before finishing off the bleeding yoinkolin assassin, the captain’s acute and trained senses detected a surge in the aether, a signal of powerful arts.
“Liutetant Abaddan! Riveo! Fall back to me now!” the captain commanded his surviving men.
“What?!” the knight felt the sudden explosion of bloodlust.
“Geeet the fuckers boss!” shouted Orjas.
“Bastards!” cursed the knight, Riveo.
However, the captain’s warning came too late. Heiran vanished from sight and entered the shadow realm, causing his world to become shrouded in a gray blur while he dashed through it, his prey stood well-defined and in focus as he moved.
A two-pronged attack struck the knight, with Ferraine attacking head-on while Heiran struck from the shadows. To inexperienced beings, it appeared as if blades manifested out of thin air. Heiran’s daggers hit flesh, the knight fell to the ground, breathing his last moments in this world, bleeding out from multiple cuts in his body. The captain and lieutenant linked up, back-to-back, ready to fend off the attackers, who promplty turned their attention to them.
“This is it, Captain! We’ll die here!” shouted Lieutenant Abaddan.
“Get a hold of yourself, Lieutenant Abaddan!” replied the captain, determined. "We won’t fall to these putrajados’ lesser arts! Steel yourself!”
“Here they come!” shouted the lieutenant, assassins within arm's length.
Three assassins moved in perfect synchrony, they knew how this would go down. Heiran lunged forward, showering the captain in a hail of blades. The captain stood his ground, fending off the orc’s attack, but with each strike, he lost more ground. The lieutenant stood guard, shields raised, deflecting the ranged attacks cast his way. Both defenders had cast Soldiers Pact, a close-combat defensive buff between allies—a last-ditch effort that lowered their attack prowess in favor of defense. They hoped the fight would turn into a slow attrition battle, giving them a chance. But their attackers had other plans. Slowly and without arousing suspicion, their attacks separated their targets, until their backs were open for attack.
“Abaddan, turn around!” yelled the captain.
"Argh!”
“Abadaaan!” But it was too late for Lieutenant Abaddan.
The assailants switched targets, and while the captain managed to defend himself from Ferraine’s attacks, Heiran slashed Lieutenant Abaddan in four weak spots in his armor. Moments later, the lieutenant lay dead in a pool of blood.
Ferraine could take no more. She needed to tend to her wounds, and Herian’s three underlings were running low on stamina. The orc emerged from the shadows, and addressed his team of assassins, “Ferraine, look after your wounds. Orjas, go help Yeres. This one is mine.”
Ferraine objected, “But—”
“Go!” ordered the orc.
The three assassins retreated, leaving the orc to face the human captain alone.
“You made a fatal mistake, putrajado. You're not good enough to take me on your own,” spoke the captain.
“We'll see,” said the orc.
With that, Heiran disappeared into the shadows once again.
X had seen most of the fights from a privileged position, first row to the carnage. At the climax of the violence, he convinced Slllamagga that they stood a better chance with the assassins than with the humans. Not a difficult thing to do, as she felt almost the same. She just needed a little push. After that, he had ample time to witness their inhuman fights—things he’d never thought possible, more combat magic, and well, blood, guts and tears as any conflict should be.
Tired and hungry, X sat beside Slllmagga on hard ground. She was lost in thought, searching for a way to stay alive for a while longer. Understandable. Near them, the sounds and colors of Heiran and the captain’s fight flashed intermittently, appearing more extreme than what he had seen so far. Their fight continued into the other side of camp, and while X would’ve liked to see it, his eyes fell on the camp’s center, where a small bonfire and food awaited him. He dragged Slllamagga over with words and indulged in a feast. The redheaded elf felt closer to paradise with each bite—the taste of fresh roasted meat took him back home.
Under an autumn star, with fresh blood and guts covering the ground around him, and while fighting raged on in the distance, he smiled wide. Life, after all, smiled back at him once more.