The cold wind swept through the Ironveil foothills as General Darion Bragg stood tall, his red-plated armor glinting beneath the afternoon sun. His massive black eagle, Shatterwing, flapped its wings, sending dust and loose stones scattering. Below, the makeshift camp of his envoys remained stationed—temporary tents, crates of supplies, and scouts stationed with precision.
"The mine is within our grasp," Darion sneered. His grizzled beard trembled as he spoke with disdain. "That runt child, Lucas, and his crumbling barony will be swept aside. The Council will praise once Greystone falls."
He mounted Shatterwing with effortless grace, the eagle letting out a shriek that echoed down the rocky cliffs. With a gust of wind, the general took off toward his city to begin military preparations.
The instant his silhouette disappeared into the horizon, a notification rang softly in Lucas Carter's mind.
DING!
SYSTEM MISSION UNLOCKED!
Mission: Eliminate the Ironveil EnvoysObjective: Assassinate all 8 enemy envoys before they escape. Reward: Skill Book - Predict (Rare): Grants the ability to predict an enemy's movents for 10 seconds. 10-second cooldown. Duration: 10 seconds.
Lucas closed the ssage window and turned to Elira, who crouched beside him on a boulder overlooking the camp.
"We strike now," Lucas said. "Before they have ti to dig their claws deeper into Aerion."
Elira gave a quiet nod, already drawing two arrows from her quiver. Luna, her Wind Lynx, crouched low, fur bristling with anticipation.
...
The sun dipped lower as the shadows lengthened over the envoy camp. Eight n and won—envoys from the neighboring Ironveil city-state—chatted idly around the campfire, unaware of the silent predators watching them.
Lucas activated Stealth Step, the air shimring slightly around him. Umbra, in his gauntlet form, pulsed with dark energy. Zephyra's daggers were strapped tightly to his hips.
He dropped into the first tent silently, wrapping his arm around the sleeping envoy and ending him with a swift blade to the throat. No sound. No struggle.
One down.
Elira, from her perch above, loosed two arrows in rapid succession. Both struck true—one piercing the temple of a guard by the supply crates, the other skewering a scout who had just turned.
Three down.
By the ti the others noticed, chaos erupted in the camp.
"We're under attack! To arms!"
But the attackers were already ghosts.
...
Lucas dashed through the camp like a storm, blade in one hand, claws of Umbra shimring with black energy. The fourth envoy swung a short sword, but Lucas ducked beneath and drove his claws into the envoy's gut. A red mist followed as the man collapsed.
Elira vaulted from her rock perch, landing softly beside Lucas. "Four left," she said.
They moved as a unit—Elira covering from range, Lucas striking with surgical precision. One tried to escape into the woods but was caught mid-sprint by a wind-forged arrow that pinned him to a tree.
Lucas felt the rush of the system tracking their kills.
Kill Confird. 6/8 Envoys eliminated.
The remaining two fled into the deeper cliffs, hoping to reach a hidden exit path carved by smugglers. But Lucas activated Beast Sight, locking onto their life signs.
"I've got them. West cliff."
He and Elira moved swiftly, leaping over ravines, weaving through trees. They caught up just as the two panicked envoys tried climbing a rope ladder strung along the rocky wall.
Lucas threw Zephyra's blade, and it spun in the air before slicing the rope. The two n fell—one twisted his ankle and scread, the other reached for a dagger.
Too slow.
Lucas lunged and struck, the final kill clean.
DING! Mission Complete!
Reward Unlocked: Skill Book - Predict has been added to your Inventory.
Lucas opened the book and absorbed its contents. Knowledge flooded his mind—arcane flows of movent and preemptive calculations burned into his brain.
Skill Acquired: Predict (Rare)
Grants the ability to predict an enemy's next move for 10 seconds. 10-minutes cooldown.
Elira stood silently as the system ssage faded. "We did it," she whispered. "They won't know what hit them."
Lucas looked toward the distant mountain, where Darion Bragg had flown off to prepare for war.
"But he will."
The light breeze turned cold.
Lucas turned toward Elira. "We return to Greystone. It's ti we prepare for what cos next."
The assassinations were clean, brutal, and necessary. War was coming.
As the wind howled above the jagged ridges overlooking Greystone, General Darion Bragg flew across the skies, his cloak billowing like a battle banner behind him. His beast—Stormrazor, a massive thunder-plud war eagle—sliced through the air with effortless grace.
But Darion's eyes narrowed, and his knuckles whitened around the reins.
"Sothing's wrong," he muttered.
Reviews
All reviews (0)