The moon had shifted behind a veil of clouds, casting long shadows across the quiet rooftops of Moonveil.
Five silhouettes dashed over the curved tiles in perfect silence, their robes stitched tight to avoid flapping in the wind. Each movement was calculated. Fluid. Predatory.
When they landed on the roof opposite the Jade Petal Inn, they crouched low, eyes locked on the second-floor window that faced the mountains.
No lights inside. No movement.
But they knew she was there.
"She's alone," one of them muttered under his breath, his voice flat, emotionless.
Another pulled out a small, flickering talisman. It glowed briefly—then snapped in half with a soft crack.
"She activated a barrier. High-grade. Something demonic, maybe even royal-tier. That room's locked tight."
The man in front—taller, older, his mask cracked along one cheek—clicked his tongue and looked down at the inn.
"She's gotten cautious."
A younger one shifted beside him. "Should we wait till she sleeps?"
"She doesn't sleep like we do," the older man said. "That's Zarisha Veyen down there. Full-blooded demon from the Crimson Vale. She's on the Cult's blacklist and the Empire's hitlist."
He spat over the edge of the roof.
"Thirty thousand spirit shards for her head. Sixty if it's clean."
The others tensed. Sixty thousand was the kind of reward you retired on. If you lived long enough.
"But I thought she disappeared months ago," one of them whispered.
"She did," the leader replied. "Until tonight."
He pulled a scroll from his sleeve, unraveling it slightly to reveal a sketched likeness of her—eyes red as rubies, hair as dark as the void, veil always drawn.
"We have confirmation. That's her. Demon Noble-Class. Specializes in seal-breaking and shadowcraft. Possibly former Cult enforcer. Hasn't been seen since the massacre at Boneglass Harbor."
"And now she's here?"
"In this village?" another muttered. "What's she doing in Moonveil?"
The leader stared at the window.
"Doesn't matter. She dies tonight."
He gave a low whistle, and one of the men pulled out a short black blade etched with faint gold script.
"Piercer-class toxin," the assassin explained. "One scratch and even a high-rank demon's spiritual core begins to fracture."
The leader nodded. "Good."
He looked around at the team.
"We split. Two on the roof. Two down the back alley. I'll breach directly through the front. Keep her boxed in. We only get one shot at this."
"And if she breaks the array?" the youngest asked.
The leader's gaze hardened.
"Then you run."
The group moved again—vanishing from the rooftop with ghost steps, spreading out around the inn like a closing noose.
From her room above, Zarisha's eyes opened slowly.
Her lips curled into a faint smile.
She whispered to herself.
"About time."
The silence shattered.
A small ripple in the air—barely more than a breath—triggered the array. One of the amber stones flared red. Then black.
Zarisha opened her eyes fully. Her veil was still drawn, but her hands had already moved. She didn't rush. She didn't panic.
She waited.
Below the floorboards, footsteps—light, but trained. One… two… then a pause.
The back window creaked open by a hair. A figure slipped through—one of the assassins, breathing slow, blade reversed in his palm. His shadow curved up the wall like a wraith. He scanned the room.
Empty.
Just a flickering lantern. Just a teacup still warm. Just silence.
He stepped forward.
Click.
A red sigil flashed beneath his foot.
Too late.
The floor erupted with thorns of crimson light, slicing up through his legs like paper. He didn't scream—but his teeth ground so hard blood ran down his chin. His blade flew from his hand. His knees hit the floor next.
A whisper behind him.
"You should've knocked."
Zarisha's voice. Cold. Soft. Carved from midnight itself.
He turned.
She was right there.
No flash. No sound. Just her figure—veil lowered halfway now, eyes glowing with lazy violence. Her hand moved like smoke.
[Blood Script: Fang Thread]
A thousand thin red wires sliced through the air. They wrapped around his body, digging into his spirit armor like it was rice paper. The runes lit up, pulsing once.
Then the assassin exploded—silent, clean, body torn into ribbons and scattered across the warded space like falling petals.
Outside, on the roof—
"She triggered the trap! Go!"
The second rooftop assassin kicked through the outer window, spinning through the frame midair with his blade drawn. His spirit aura surged—sky-blue and needle-thin, a cold killing intent forged for assassination.
He landed in the room.
No one there.
"Where—?"
THUD.
His head turned just in time to catch a shadow moving from the ceiling.
Zarisha dropped like a specter, her knee crashing into his back. He went straight through the floorboards with a boom, splinters and dust exploding across the lower hallway.
He rolled. Fast reflexes. Spit blood. His aura flared and formed a jagged barrier.
[Secret Technique: Frost Bloom Guard]
Ice circled him instantly, defensive spires rising like glass flowers.
But Zarisha didn't stop.
She extended her palm.
[Shadow Inversion Field]
The entire hallway turned inside out. His senses twisted—up became down, right became left. He staggered back, but the shadows already crawled up his limbs, sinking into his soul.
"You think your tricks hide you from me?" Zarisha whispered from the dark. "I wrote the manual you copied."
She dragged her fingers across the air.
The shadows erupted.
Tendrils of pure ink-black burst through the hallway, dragging him into the wall itself, where he screamed once—then vanished like he never existed.
Outside—
The leader cursed. "She's wiping us out."
"Plan B," said the one in the alley. "Rush her from two sides. I breach—she won't expect it."
The leader nodded, raising his hand.
[Breaching Skill – Shadow Step: Fang Lunge]
He vanished—turning into a blur of ash and light, reappearing in front of the door mid-lunge.
His blade ignited with gold-and-purple Qi, carved for anti-demon kills. The door exploded inward as he launched.
She was there.
But waiting.
Zarisha didn't dodge.
She moved her fingers again—one, two, three.
[Reverse Rune: Hollow Binding Seal]
The space between them bent.
His blade struck empty air.
Then stopped.
Mid-swing.
Frozen.
He looked down in horror. His body wasn't moving. His arms were still locked in the motion of the attack—but the rest of the world had kept going.
She'd frozen him inside a mirrored space.
"No—!"
Zarisha stepped forward.
"You broke the wrong door."
Her palm rose slowly.
[Blood Scripture: Heart Piercer Mark]
Her index finger pressed gently against his forehead.
A red rune bloomed under her touch. No pain. Just a symbol.
Then—
BOOM.
His core shattered internally. Silent. No blood. No scream. His soul blinked out of his body, as if it had been swallowed by a void needle.
He dropped in one smooth motion, eyes wide, body intact. Dead before he hit the floor.
Only two assassins remained now.
They saw it. Felt it.
Too late to back out.
One of them ran, sprinting across the rooftop.
The other leapt through the second hallway entrance, blade drawn.
"ZARISHA!!" he roared, desperation coating his voice.
She turned to face him as the moonlight finally spilled through the ruined ceiling. Her full veil had fallen away now.
Her face was still. Beautiful. Terrifying.
Eyes like twin rubies.
Crimson lines carved faintly beneath them—runic marks of her bloodline.
He saw her.
And froze.
"You're—"
He didn't finish.
Zarisha flicked her wrist.
[Final Seal – Crimson Verdict]
Every shadow in the room converged into a massive seal behind her. It spun once in the air, then slammed forward like a judge's hammer.
He tried to scream.
Then vanished.
Only his blade clattered to the ground.
Outside, the last man kept running.
But the village was already shifting.
Rykarion, standing on the inn's porch, finally turned his head.
He felt it.
The pressure. The blood. The vanishings.
He cracked his neck.
"…So much for quiet."
He looked up toward the moonlit rooftop.
His eyes shimmered gold.