The hunt for the third pillar of Zayn's faction would be unlike the others. Raiden had been a force of sheer, undeniable strength. Elara had been a mind that twisted the fabric of knowledge itself. But this one? This was a ghost. A myth. A name whispered in the dark, one that had the potential to bring empires to their knees with the precision of a single blade.
Varian Nightshade.
An assassin so skilled that, in Zayn's previous life, he would go on to achieve the unthinkable—killing the Holy Emperor himself.
Zayn exhaled as he leaned against the balcony of their temporary hideout. The city of Noctharis stretched before him, a warren of towering spires and narrow alleys, where the rich feasted atop golden towers while the destitute bled in the streets. It was the perfect hunting ground for a man like Varian, who thrived in the darkness between power and ruin.
Elara, now standing at his side, studied the city with a thoughtful expression.
"You're sure he's here?" she asked, voice laced with skepticism.
Zayn smirked. "If he's anywhere, it's Noctharis. This city was built for people like him."
Raiden snorted, arms crossed over his chest. "People like him? You mean phantoms and cowards who'd rather stab someone in the dark than fight them head-on?"
Elara gave Raiden an unimpressed glance. "That 'coward' would one day assassinate the Holy Emperor. Try not to underestimate him."
Raiden rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Yeah right. As if an assassin would get close to the Holy emperor"
Raiden was simply unaware of the fact that Varian 10 years out of the academy grew to be so fearsome that he assassinated the holy emperor within 10 days.
Zayn turned his gaze back to the city. They didn't have time for infighting. He had spent months tracking whispers, bribing informants, and piecing together fragments of rumor. Now, all signs pointed to a single name—The Black Veil.
An underground network of assassins, mercenaries, and spies, known for harboring ghosts who wanted to disappear. If Varian was hiding, the Black Veil was where he'd be.
The Black Veil's hidden entrance was tucked away in the ruins of an abandoned cathedral, a place where faith had died long before the people in it. It was a sanctuary for the damned, where contracts were made in whispers, and death was dealt for the right price.
Zayn, Raiden, and Elara moved through the shadows, their presence concealed by magic and the hush of the midnight streets. As they approached the entrance, a lone sentry barred their path—until Raiden's fist sent him crumpling to the ground.
Zayn stepped over the unconscious body and pushed open the rusted iron door.
Inside, the scent of smoke and steel filled the air. The cavernous hall was lined with cloaked figures—assassins-for-hire sharpening daggers, mercenaries drinking away their last job, and spies selling secrets worth more than gold.
At the far end of the room, seated on a throne of broken weapons, was a figure clad in black. A dagger twirled idly between his fingers, his face obscured beneath the hood of his cloak.
Varian Nightshade.
Zayn's lips curled into a grin. "Been a while, hasn't it?"
The dagger stilled. Slowly, Varian looked up.
And for the first time, Zayn saw it—the recognition in the assassin's cold silver eyes.
But it wasn't because of past lives or hidden truths.
No, Varian knew him because of Kael Draymoor.
Zayn had destroyed Kael in a match. Brutally. He had left the once-proud noble humiliated, broken, and bleeding in front of an entire audience.
Varian had been there. He had watched from the shadows as Zayn shattered a prodigy of the Empire. That was why he recognized him.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The air between them crackled with tension.
Then Varian smirked.
"Didn't think I'd see you again, Prince."
Zayn stepped forward, unfazed. "You don't know it yet, but one day, you'll have the skill to assassinate the Holy Emperor himself."
Varian tilted his head. "And why does that concern you?"
Zayn's grin widened. "Because I don't intend for you to waste that talent on the wrong target."
Varian leaned back, watching him. "Let me guess. You're not here for a contract."
Zayn's voice dropped into a whisper, his golden eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "No. I'm here with an offer."
Varian chuckled darkly. "You want me on your side?"
Zayn nodded. "I want the best."
Varian's expression turned unreadable. He studied Zayn for a long moment before finally speaking.
"I don't serve kings."
Zayn leaned in, his voice a ghost of a promise. "Good. I don't want a servant." He extended his hand. "I want a shadow that can kill gods."
The room was silent.
Varian looked at Zayn's outstretched hand. Then, with a slow, calculating smirk, he reached out and grasped it.
[Varian Nightshade has joined your faction!][Faction Stealth and Lethality Increased!]
"I better get paid for my work" Varian muttered, before merging into Zayn's shadow, seamlessly transitioning into the void.
The final piece was in place.
The real game was about to begin.