Chapter 11: What's with those looks

The air hung heavy with the scent of blood and smoke as the rest of the team burst through the inn doors, their faces grim, their hearts pounding. They had raced back to the headquarters as fast as their legs could carry them, driven by a primal fear that something was terribly wrong. And they were right.

The scene that greeted them was a tableau of carnage. Red-clothed bodies lay scattered across the floor, their faces contorted in death, their weapons scattered like discarded toys. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, and the silence was broken only by the soft, rhythmic thump of their own hearts.

They moved through the inn, their eyes scanning every corner, their senses on high alert. They found Adi, kneeling in the center of the room, his body a canvas of blood and grime. His dagger, a small, deadly blade, lay beside him, its surface slick with crimson. The bodies surrounding him were a testament to his brutal efficiency, a picture of raw, unbridled fury.

A wave of awe and fear washed over them. They had heard rumors of Adi's abilities, of his training, of his potential. But nothing could have prepared them for the sight before them. This was no ordinary assassin. This was a force of nature, a whirlwind of destruction, a warrior who fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast.

Nita and Deo, their faces etched with concern, rushed to Adi's side. He looked up at them, his eyes bloodshot, his face drawn and pale. He tried to rise, but his legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed back onto the floor. Nita and Deo gently helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as they guided him towards a chair. He sank into it, his shoulders slumping, his body wracked with exhaustion.

The rest of the team, their minds reeling from the carnage, began to search for clues, for any indication of who these attackers were, what their motives might be. Celine, her face pale, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination, grabbed a carrier pigeon from her bag. She carefully penned a message to the Niziari Elders, detailing the attack, the casualties, and the desperate need for reinforcements. She released the bird, its wings beating against the night air, carrying their message into the darkness.

They worked tirelessly, their movements a blur of activity. They disposed of the bodies, their faces grim as they carried the red-clothed men away from the city, ensuring that their presence would not be discovered by the authorities. They cleaned the inn, scrubbing away the bloodstains, erasing the evidence of the battle, preparing for the inevitable arrival of the guards.

After a day of rest, their bodies aching, their minds still reeling from the events, they gathered in the main room. The air hung heavy with unspoken questions, with a sense of unease that permeated every corner of the inn.

"What should we do next?" Roxan asked, her voice sharp, her eyes searching for answers.

Geoffrey, his arm bandaged, his face pale but his eyes filled with a steely determination, entered the room. He had spent the day explaining the situation to the authorities, assuring them that it was nothing more than a brawl between rival gangs. He had managed to convince them, but he knew that it was only a temporary reprieve.

"We need to get out of here," he said. "Find a new hideout. This city is compromised. We can't stay here."

Nita, her face grim, nodded in agreement. She knew that he was right. The society needed to move, to find a new sanctuary, a new place to call home. She excused herself, disappearing into her room. A few moments later, she emerged, transformed.

Her skin, usually pale, was now radiant, her cheeks flushed with a healthy glow. Her lips, normally a neutral shade, were now a vibrant red, adding a touch of sensuality to her face. She wore a stunning red dress, its fabric flowing around her like a silken waterfall, accentuating her curves, her elegance, her beauty.

The room fell silent. Jaws dropped. Eyes widened in disbelief. Even Adi, his face a mixture of shock and admiration, stared at the woman who had once barked orders at him with a sharp, no-nonsense tone.

"What's with those looks?" Nita asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I was a noble before I became a part of Niziari."

The transformation, the revelation, was a stark reminder that even the most hardened assassins, the most skilled warriors, carried within them the remnants of their past

Anita, her true name now revealed, stood tall and proud before the imposing mansion, a stark contrast to the shadows that clung to her. She was a princess in disguise, a warrior in a silken gown. Adi, Deo, and Mikael followed close behind, their movements silent, their presence a whisper in the night, their eyes ever vigilant, ensuring her safety.

A guard, his face etched with respect, stood before the grand entrance. He saluted as Anita approached, his hand coming to his brow. "Welcome home, Lady Anita," he said, his voice deferential. He stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

Adi, his senses sharp, saw his opportunity. He signaled to Deo and Mikael, who moved with practiced ease, creating a diversion, a distraction, a moment of chaos. Adi slipped past the guard, his movements silent, his presence a ghost in the night. He followed Anita, his steps light, his eyes fixed on her back, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

Anita entered the mansion, her presence filling the grand hall with a quiet authority. Her father, a man of imposing stature and a kind face, greeted her with a warm smile. "How are you, my princess?" he asked, his voice filled with affection.

"I'm fine, Father," Anita replied, her voice a soft melody. "There's something I want to ask of you."

Her father, his face etched with concern, lowered himself into a plush armchair. "You've been away for a while," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of reproach. "And the first thing you want is to ask me for a favor? You didn't even greet me properly. You didn't ask if I was alright."

Anita sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Father," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "I will stay here tonight. I will sleep over."

Her father's face lit up. "That's wonderful," he said, his voice filled with joy. "Your mother will be so happy to see you."

After dinner, Anita led Adi to a balcony overlooking the manicured gardens. "You're there, right?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

Adi emerged from the shadows, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. "Yes, Head Master," he said, his voice low and respectful.

"As you can see," Anita said, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, "I'm different from them. My parents are bubbly. I'm not. We're a lower type of noble. My father is a baron. He's a good man, but people take advantage of his kindness. I want to protect him. A long time ago, I was kidnapped. A Niziari helped me escape. After that, I searched for them, begged them to let me join. Twenty-four years later, here I am. I don't know if I'm suited to be a Master."

Adi listened, his heart filled with empathy. He understood her struggles, her desire to protect her family, her dedication to the society. He nodded, his eyes reflecting his understanding.

The next day, Anita went to her father's office. She emerged a short time later, a grin on her face, a key in her hand, and a piece of paper tucked into her pocket. Mikael and Deo, who had been waiting outside, greeted her as she walked out of the mansion.

"Everything alright, Head Master?" Deo asked, her voice filled with concern.

Anita smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Everything is perfectly alright," she said. "Now, let's go."

She turned and walked away, her steps light and confident, her heart filled with a newfound purpose. She was Anita, the Head Master, the princess, the warrior. And she was ready to fight.