Echoes Of The Silent Weaver

The rain poured down relentlessly, shrouding the empty streets in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the deluge, a sinister act unfolded. A man's desperate cry pierced the air: "Have mercy!"

A young figure, clad in black robes, stood over the victim. Half his face remained hidden beneath a sodden hood, while the other half revealed an unsettling gaze. His icy crimson eyes seemed to gleam with malevolence as he sneered at the plea for mercy.

"The word mercy..." he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Where did I hear it from?" With a swift, deadly motion, he drew his blade across the man's neck, ending his life.

As the victim's lifeless body slumped to the ground, the young assassin's gaze lingered, his eyes burning with an unnerving intensity. Suddenly, he sensed a presence and swiftly retreated into the shadows, vanishing into a narrow alley.

The rain and darkness proved to be his allies, concealing his figure as he slipped through the streets. He navigated through buildings, using the trees as cover, until he reached the playground. There, he set his sights on his next target.

'Anita'.

His target had their back facing him but he could tell well enough who they were because the target happened to be a member of his organization.

Not like he knew every one in the organization, he knew none and didn't bother to mingle with them. He was a solo man, doing his things silently, and that earned him a title 'the silent weaver'

But the fact that he didn't move around with the other members of the organization didn't matter to him as he made sure to study every single one of them.

'Fool.'

He scoffed, watching Anita's movements.

The organization's target was a rich woman who in the face of the earth is a kind human who enjoyed playing with children and having them have fun in her playground while underneath that colorful facade is a beast, feeding on the vitals of innocent children who lost their way around the playground.

Anita was given the job to hunt her down during the target's next feed but the way she was going about it, the target could find out and escape before she is cut.

He watched Anita's every move for the meantime, his eyes fixed on her back as she navigated the deserted playground. Her careless demeanor was a stark contrast to the precision and stealth required of a Shadow Weaver. He muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rain, "What a useless weaver..."

Her methods were sloppy, lacking the finesse and strategy that the 'Shadow Weavers' were known for. A spark of anger ignited within him, fueled by her recklessness.

If nothing's done, the target would escape, he couldn't risk that.

Without hesitation, he decided to confront her. He glided silently through the shadows, his footsteps masked by the rain. As he approached Anita, he focused his energy, summoning the technique known as "Wither Hand."

His hand began to glow with a faint, eerie light. The air around his fingers seemed to distort, as if space itself was bending to his will. With a swift motion, he reached out and touched Anita's shoulder.

The moment his skin made contact with hers, Anita's body stiffened. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt her strength begin to wane. The Wither Hand technique was designed to drain the life force from its victim, leaving them vulnerable and helpless.

Anita tried to struggle, but her movements were slow and labored. She knew she had to break free from the Wither Hand's grasp, or risk being completely drained of her energy. But as she looked up, she saw the young assassin's face, his icy crimson eyes gleaming with an unnerving intensity...

"You..."

Shock, anger, betrayal, were evident in her eyes as she fell to her knees.

The organization's ultimate Rule is...

Never kill a fellow member.

Unfortunately, Sage Blackwood did not care about that particular rule.

Anita's eyes blazed with anger and betrayal as she gazed up at Sage. Her voice was above a whisper, but it carried a weight of indignation. "You're...you're breaking the rule, Sage."

Sage's expression remained impassive, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "The rule doesn't apply to those who are incompetent," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Anita's face twisted in a mixture of pain and rage. She tried to speak, but her words were cut off by a fit of coughing. The Wither Hand technique was draining her life force, leaving her weak and vulnerable.

Sage watched her with an unemotional gaze, his eyes fixed on her struggling form. "You're a liability, Anita," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "If you can't even complete a simple mission, then you're of no use to the organization."

Anita's eyes flashed with anger, but she knew she was no match for Sage. Not in her current state. With a Herculean effort, she managed to speak, her voice shaky. "You'll...pay for this, Sage..."

Sage's expression didn't change, but a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "I'm shaking in my boots," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

With a swift motion, he reached out and ended Anita's life, the Wither Hand technique draining the last vestiges of her energy. Sage watched her lifeless body slump to the ground, his eyes gleaming with an unnerving intensity.

The rain continued to pour down, washing away the evidence of the crime. Sage grabbed Anita's robes and stood up, his black robes blending seamlessly into the shadows. He left that spot and went into an alley before dumping the body there.

He turned to leave but something came up in his mind that made him pause and bend down towards the body.

'Two silver daggers, some silvers.'

Seeing the objects hidden in the dead person's robe, he squinted his eyes.

'I don't need the daggers but the silvers will come in handy.'

After packing the silver coins into his own robes, he stood up and left, blending into the darkness once more.

To kill a target who is not a human but a beast, one had to be strong, fast, clever, and skillful. The mission was not meant for dumb people like Anita who had plans to jump into action without first making necessary plans.

Sage navigated the deserted streets, his footsteps silent on the wet pavement. He knew the target's location, an underground base hidden beneath the playground's haunted room. The rich woman's facade was impressive, but Sage had uncovered her dark secret.

As he approached the playground, he noticed the swings creaking in the wind, the sound echoing through the empty streets. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, casting a misty veil over the scene.

Sage's eyes scanned the area, his gaze lingering on the haunted room. He knew the entrance to the underground base was hidden behind a secret door. With a swift motion, he drew his blade, the metal gleaming in the faint moonlight.

He approached the haunted room, his senses on high alert. Sage's stomach churned from the rotten smell coming out from the place, but he didn't falter. He pushed open the creaky door, revealing a dimly lit room filled with cobwebs and dusty items.

A chill ran down Sage's spine as he stepped inside. He knew he was getting close. The secret door was hidden behind a tattered curtain, adorned with strange symbols. Sage recognized the markings, a signature of the target's dark magic. She was a beast that practiced dark magic, this was in accordance with the report the organization gave him.

With a deep breath, Sage pushed aside the curtain, revealing a set of steep stairs leading down into darkness. The air emanating from the stairs was heavy with malevolent energy. Sage steeled himself, gripping his blade tightly.

He began his descent, the stairs creaking beneath his feet. The darkness swallowed him whole, but Sage's eyes adjusted slowly, revealing a labyrinthine network of tunnels and chambers.

He knew he was closing in on the target. The rich woman's lair was hidden deep within the underground base. Sage's heart pounded in anticipation, his blade at the ready.

As he turned a corner, he caught sight of a faint glow emanating from a nearby chamber. Sage's eyes narrowed, his senses on high alert.

"Welcome, the silent weaver."