Grey stood still in the narrow alleyway, the moonlight casting long shadows that flickered against the damp brick walls. The faint glint of silver danced in his eyes as he looked upon the three men before him, his smile calm, yet curiously amused.
"Gentlemen," he whispered, tilting his head like a predator examining wounded prey, "please do reply. I asked for your boss's name."
His voice, though low, echoed unnaturally in the tight corridor, sending an involuntary shiver down the spines of the men who had once approached with murderous confidence.
Their expressions shifted. The smirks they once wore were now replaced with uncertainty—no, fear. The man with the wooden stick narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, and after a brief silence, he muttered, "Could it be... you're a Paladin?"
The words dropped like a stone in a still pond. The other two flinched as if struck. They exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes wide, breaths shallow. One of them,a wiry man with sunken cheeks and quick hands,took a step back subconsciously.
These weren't mere thugs. Grey could tell now. Their movements, formation, and observation of him revealed disciplined men, likely trained since childhood.
Loyal dogs serving a master from the nobility, the kind used for dirty work no official record would ever bear.
But it wasn't just their skills that intrigued him. It was their fear.
So they recognized the possibility. That meant they weren't here by coincidence. Perhaps... they knew what he was. Or at least, what they feared he might become.
Grey's thoughts swirled like a dark fog. Had the Church caught wind of his presence already? Was this a warning, or a trial execution? The thought coiled in his stomach like a serpent. He had read about their methods,their ruthlessness. A mere suspicion was enough to wipe entire bloodlines from existence.
He clenched his fists behind his back, the shadows around his feet flickering subtly.
If they were from the Church, he could not let them leave alive.
The fat one,Leo, he recalled,grunted and began to rise. Blood still stained his shirt from Grey's earlier strike, yet somehow, he stood, staggering but not broken.
Grey narrowed his eyes. That blow should've shattered bone and ruptured organs. Ordinary men didn't stand after a direct kick like that. These weren't simple assassins. They were enhanced, perhaps not Paladins, but forged in steel and fed on meat while others gnawed on crusts of bread.
Then they turned to run.
Smart men, they know their situation,
Grey sighed,
He didn't chase, not immediately. He sighed, as if saddened by the inevitable. He closed his eyes for a breath and whispered.
"Stealth of Darkness."
His form shimmered, then vanished, swallowed by the night. Not even a flicker of movement betrayed his position.
Leo ran, his boots slapping against the cracked stone of the street, breath ragged and frantic. He turned to check behind him, but saw only the empty street drenched in silver moonlight.
Then something pulled him sideways.
It wasn't a hand. It wasn't anything visible. One moment he stood upright; the next, something flung his body like a rag doll into a wall with a sickening thud. The wind knocked from his lungs, he gasped and choked, blinking furiously.
His heart seized as pain erupted through his chest. He looked down and saw it,a gaping hole, blood pouring like wine from a shattered cup. Before the scream could rise from his throat, the world tilted.
His vision floated above his dying body, and then… darkness.
Grey stepped over the corpse, his breath steady. Blood pooled beneath Leo's limp form, steam rising faintly in the cold air. The man's head lay on the ground separate from his body, mouth frozen mid-howl.
There was no pleasure in this. No joy in the kill. Only necessity.
Grey's eyes, now colder than before, swept the alleyway. There were three more. He had no time to waste.
He turned, the shadows embracing him once more, and vanished into the night,silent, deadly, unseen.