Blades in the Dark

The room erupted into chaos.

Swords clashed, steel ringing against steel as Evelyn, Damien, and Ronan found themselves outnumbered. Lord Garreth Vale stumbled back toward the far wall, barking frantic orders, while his guards surged forward.

But Evelyn barely registered them.

Her focus locked onto the assassin.

The cloaked figure stood unnervingly still amidst the chaos, their curved blade reflecting the flickering candlelight. They weren't rushing to attack, nor moving to defend Vale.

No, they were waiting.

Watching.

Assessing.

Then, in a single, fluid motion, they struck.

Evelyn barely had time to react as the assassin lunged, their speed blistering. She raised her sword just in time, steel meeting steel in a violent clash that sent a shockwave up her arm.

The force behind the blow was immense. Too strong. Too precise.

Evelyn's boots skidded across the floor as she absorbed the impact. Her muscles burned as she forced the assassin back, but her opponent recovered instantly, pivoting with a dancer's grace before twisting into another devastating strike.

Evelyn parried—barely—but the assassin was relentless.

Blades clashed in rapid succession, the metallic clang filling the room as they exchanged strikes too fast for the untrained eye to follow.

It was like fighting a reflection of herself.

Every move Evelyn made, the assassin countered—effortlessly.

Every feint, every opening she tried to create—anticipated, dismantled, punished.

They know my style.

The realization hit like ice in her veins.

Her enemy wasn't just skilled. They had studied her.

And that meant…

They knew how to kill her.

A flicker of hesitation was all it took.

The assassin struck low, sweeping Evelyn's legs. She barely evaded, rolling aside as the curved blade sliced clean through the air where her head had been moments before.

She scrambled to her feet just as the assassin was on her again, closing the distance in the blink of an eye.

Evelyn had fought countless opponents—bandits, knights, mercenaries—but this… this was different.

This assassin wasn't just fighting to win.

They were playing with her.

A blur of movement. A flash of steel.

Evelyn gritted her teeth, forced onto the defensive. She blocked an upward slash, twisted to avoid a follow-up strike to her ribs, then barely ducked in time to dodge a final, lethal downward arc.

She countered—finally—driving her sword forward in a thrust meant to force distance.

But the assassin disappeared.

In a single, impossibly fast motion, they shifted to the side, flowing around her attack like smoke through cracks in stone.

A sharp sting exploded across Evelyn's cheek.

She staggered back, breath hitching. The assassin had cut her.

Not deeply. Just enough to prove a point.

Damien's voice cut through the battle. "Oh, come on—only I'm allowed to make her bleed."

The assassin actually smirked.

Evelyn's heart pounded as she wiped the thin line of blood from her cheek, fingers trembling slightly.

This wasn't just an assassin.

This was a hunter.

And she was the prey.

Meanwhile

Damien barely had time to duck as a guard swung a broadsword at his head.

With a lazy twist, he dodged, grabbed the man's wrist, and drove a dagger up beneath his ribs in one fluid motion.

The guard let out a choked sound before crumpling.

Damien sighed dramatically. "You know, I really wish you people would let me monologue first."

Another attacker lunged.

Damien sidestepped at the last second, letting the momentum carry the man forward. He tripped the fool, sent him sprawling, and disarmed him with a flick of his wrist.

Then, turning, he caught sight of Evelyn's fight—and his smirk vanished.

She was losing.

Evelyn never lost.

Damien moved before he could think, closing the distance in seconds.

The assassin noticed.

They turned—just in time to block Damien's blade.

For the first time, their smirk faltered.

Damien grinned. "What, didn't expect me to be this fast?"

The assassin pushed him back with a precise, practiced motion. Their golden eyes flicked between him and Evelyn.

Then, without warning—they moved.

Straight for Damien.

Fast.

Too fast.

Damien barely got his sword up before the assassin slammed into him, their blade glancing off his guard before a well-placed kick sent him skidding backward.

"Okay, ow." Damien groaned, shaking out his arms. "That's gonna leave a bruise."

Ronan appeared beside him, daggers drawn. "This one's different."

"No kidding." Damien rolled his shoulders. "Guess I should stop holding back."

He lunged—this time, attacking first.

The Turning Point

Damien's strikes were sharp, unpredictable, and relentless. He wasn't a traditional fighter like Evelyn—he fought like a rogue, a brawler who used speed, deception, and raw unpredictability to gain the upper hand.

And for the first time…

The assassin was forced to adjust.

They still parried, still dodged—but they weren't predicting Damien's movements like they had with Evelyn.

He saw it in their expression—the briefest moment of recalibration.

"Oh, you don't know me," Damien realized, grinning. "You didn't study me."

That was their mistake.

Damien pressed the advantage. His footwork shifted, his strikes became erratic, making himself impossible to predict. He switched grip mid-swing, forced the assassin to move reactively instead of proactively.

And then—

A small opening.

Damien saw it.

So did Evelyn.

She moved in sync with him. As Damien feinted high, Evelyn struck low, sweeping the assassin's legs out from under them.

For the first time—

They fell.

The assassin landed hard, rolling to recover, but Damien and Evelyn were already on them, blades at their throat.

For the first time, the assassin hesitated.

Their golden eyes flicked between them. Calculating. Thinking.

Then—they smirked.

Before Evelyn could react, the assassin threw something onto the ground—

A thick, curling smoke bomb.

The room filled with a blinding fog.

Evelyn cursed, swinging blindly, but the assassin was already gone.

The smoke cleared—and they had vanished.

Damien let out an exhausted breath. "That is the second most annoying person I've ever met."

Evelyn, still gripping her sword, exhaled sharply. "We let them escape."

Ronan's voice was grim. "No. They let us live."

A silence stretched between them.

Then, Vale's panicked voice broke through. "You don't understand—you can't stop what's coming."

Evelyn turned sharply. "Who is she?"

Vale's expression was haunted.

"She's one of them."

A loud explosion rocked the manor.

Damien groaned. "Oh, fantastic."

Ronan moved to the window. "Guards. Lots of them."

Evelyn clenched her jaw. This wasn't over.

Damien smirked. "Well. Time to make a dramatic exit?"

Evelyn sheathed her sword.

"Let's go."