The Whisper's payment awaited in a dead drop, but so did an ambush.
Caelan sensed it before he saw anything wrong. A stillness in the air, a silence too perfect for the normally bustling night market district.
The hairs on the back of his neck—a warning system Marcus Chen had learned to trust implicitly.
He paused in the shadow of a closed pottery shop, eyes scanning the narrow street ahead.
The dead drop location was exactly as the Whisper had described: the third barrel behind the Blue Lantern Tavern, marked with a faint chalk crescent.
But the tavern itself was unusually quiet for this hour. No drunken patrons spilled into the street, no music drifted through its windows.
"Too obvious," Caelan murmured to himself.
Whoever waited for him had cleared the area of witnesses.
After completing Thane's assassination four days earlier, Caelan had followed the Whisper's instructions for claiming payment: place the black feather on the body, then come to this location on the third night after the merchant's death.
The promised reward would contain critical information about Lord Fenn's financial dealings—leverage Caelan desperately needed as the royal conclave continued.
But something had gone wrong.
Either the Whisper had betrayed him, or someone had intercepted their arrangement.
Korrin's warning about the Black Halo echoed in his mind.
An elite assassin guild led by a fellow transmigrator who combined modern tactical knowledge with this world's magic.
Had they been watching him all along?
Caelan adjusted the shadow cloak around his shoulders, feeling for the weapons concealed beneath.
His body had grown stronger through constant training and Nullcraft practice, but he remained far from his peak physical condition as Marcus Chen.
If this was indeed the Black Halo, he would be facing killers whose abilities matched or exceeded his own.
He needed to change the rules of engagement.
Rather than approaching directly, Caelan circled to the rear of the tavern, climbing onto an adjacent rooftop with the aid of the climbing spikes from his Albrecht arsenal.
From this vantage point, he could see what had been invisible from street level: five figures positioned around the dead drop, each concealed in shadows that seemed unnaturally deep.
Their stillness was unnatural, their positioning precise, covering all obvious approaches with overlapping fields of fire.
Professional killers, without question.
And something else caught his eye—the faint shimmer of magic surrounding each figure, some sort of enhancement or protective spell.
Caelan reached into his pouch for the shadow salve, applying it to his exposed skin. The familiar cold tingling spread across his face as the substance took effect.
Time to test what he'd learned.
He began with a Nullcraft technique designed to detect magical signatures, mentally tracing the symbols described in his ancestor's texts.
As he completed each pattern, his awareness of the magical energy below sharpened.
The shimmering around the assassins resolved into distinct patterns—speed enhancement, sensory amplification, and what appeared to be some form of armour spell.
Formidable, but not impenetrable.
Caelan removed a small pouch of sand from his belt—ordinary sand that had been prepared with a Nullcraft infusion.
He scattered it across the rooftop in a specific pattern, creating a field that would temporarily disrupt magical energy.
Then he positioned three small shock stones at strategic points, similar to those he'd used at Blackthorn Keep.
When his preparations were complete, Caelan took a deep breath and vaulted over the roof edge, landing on a stack of crates that partially collapsed under his weight.
The noise was deliberate, drawing immediate attention from the hidden figures.
"The Raven arrives," a voice called from the shadows—female, with an accent Caelan couldn't place.
"Right on schedule."
Two figures emerged from their hiding places, moving with a fluid grace that instantly confirmed Caelan's suspicions.
One was a tall woman with close-cropped white hair, her face marked with ritual scars.
The other was a shorter man whose hands glowed with a faint blue light—a mage, ready to cast.
"The Whisper sends her regrets," the woman continued.
"She's been... temporarily detained. We're here in her place."
"The Black Halo," Caelan stated, not a question.
"I'm honoured by such attention for a minor contract."
The woman smiled coldly.
"This was never about Thane. He was bait. We've been watching you since Blackthorn Keep. Unusual techniques. Efficient kills. Someone trained... elsewhere."
She emphasised the last word meaningfully.
Another test, probing to confirm what Korrin had already suspected about Caelan's true nature.
"I'm simply a nobleman protecting his interests," Caelan replied mildly.
"A nobleman who moves like a professional killer," the mage added.
"With techniques not taught in Velderra."
Caelan saw movement in his peripheral vision—the other three assassins repositioning to surround him. The trap was closing.
"What do you want?" he asked directly.
"Two possibilities," the woman answered.
"Join us—your skills would be valuable to the Halo. Or..." She shrugged.
"The alternative is less pleasant."
"An interesting offer," Caelan said, subtly shifting his weight to prepare for what would come next.
"And if I joined, who would I serve?
You?
Or the Eclipsed Order?"
A flicker of surprise crossed the woman's face.
"You're better informed than expected."
"Information keeps me alive," Caelan replied, echoing Korrin's words.
His hand closed around one of the shock stones in his pocket.
"I assume the Eclipsed Order's interest in House Albrecht explains your generous recruitment offer?"
"Smart and perceptive," the woman said approvingly.
"Our employer believes the last Albrecht has... unique value. They'd prefer you alive, but dead works too."
"I'll need time to consider such a life-changing proposal," Caelan said, edging back toward his prepared area on the rooftop.
The woman's expression hardened.
"There is no time. Choose now."
Caelan smiled.
"I choose option three."
He threw the shock stone at his feet.
The explosion was more flash than force, but it served its purpose—momentarily blinding the assassins while Caelan leapt back onto the roof.
As expected, they recovered quickly.
The mage shouted a command word, and all five assassins suddenly moved with preternatural speed, two scaling the wall while three circled to find other access points.
But they entered Caelan's prepared ground.
As the first assassin reached the rooftop, he crossed the Nullcraft sand pattern.
The magical enhancements around him flickered and dimmed—not extinguished completely, but weakened enough to slow him down.
Caelan struck with precision, a quick combination of strikes to nerve points that Marcus Chen had perfected over years of operations.
The assassin dropped, temporarily paralysed but still conscious.
"Speed enhancement failing," the man gasped to his companions.
"Magic dampening field!"
The warning came too late for the second assassin, who suffered the same fate as she crossed the sand pattern.
But the remaining three adjusted quickly, the mage floating up to the rooftop on a cushion of magical energy that avoided touching the prepared surface.
"Nullcraft," the mage spat the word like a curse.
"Outdated tricks won't save you, Albrecht."
He raised his glowing hands, preparing a spell.
Caelan triggered his second shock stone, not at the mage directly, but at the chimney stack behind him.
The explosion wasn't powerful, but it didn't need to be—the crumbling bricks forced the mage to dodge, breaking his spell's preparation.
In that moment of distraction, Caelan closed the distance, drawing on every combat skill Marcus Chen had ever learned.
His movements were fluid, efficient, and each strike was calculated to maximum effect with minimal energy expenditure.
The mage was skilled but unprepared for hand-to-hand combat against someone who negated his magical advantages.
Three precise strikes later, he lay unconscious on the rooftop.
That left the woman and two others—the most dangerous opponents.
They emerged from different directions, coordinating their attack with practised ease. One threw small knives that seemed to change direction in mid-air, magically guided.
Another began a chant that made the air waver with heat.
Caelan triggered his final shock stone, not as a weapon but as a signal, causing a specific pattern of light that he hoped a certain person might recognise.
The woman reached him first, her dagger slashing with blinding speed. Even with her magic partially dampened by his Nullcraft field, she was formidable.
Caelan parried her first attacks but took a shallow cut across his ribs. The wound burned unnaturally—poison, most likely.
"Impressive," she said, not even breathing hard.
"But you can't beat all of us."
"I don't need to," Caelan replied, backing toward the edge of the roof.
The burning in his side intensified, and he could feel the poison beginning to slow his reactions.
The black lines beneath his skin pulsed painfully as his Nullcraft fought against the magical toxin.
The woman saw his weakening and pressed her advantage, her dagger a blur of motion.
Caelan defended as best he could, but found himself forced to the roof's edge.
"The Eclipsed Order wants to know how you awakened the shadow magic," she said, advancing steadily.
"Even if we have to cut the answers from you."
"I've awakened nothing," Caelan replied, his voice steady despite the pain.
"House Albrecht's shadow magic died generations ago."
"Lies," she hissed.
"We've felt the changes. The seals, weakening. The Seraph stirring after centuries."
That confirmation of the Whisper's warning—that the Eclipsed Order sought to free the Black Seraph—sent a chill through Caelan despite the burning poison.
The woman lunged again, but this time Caelan didn't parry.
Instead, he deliberately fell backwards off the roof, twisting to catch a clothesline stretched between buildings.
Using it like a trapeze, he swung down to a lower balcony, then dropped to street level.
The assassins followed immediately, but the brief reprieve had given Caelan time to retrieve a special weapon—a smoke bomb mixed with powdered nullstone that would disrupt magical tracking.
He threw it at his feet as they closed in, filling the narrow street with thick, gray smoke that absorbed magical energy.
Then he ran, pushing his poisoned body to its limits, zigzagging through the back alleys he'd memorised during his previous nights in the capital.
Behind him, he heard the assassins' frustrated shouts as their tracking spells failed.
But the poison was working quickly now, each step becoming more difficult than the last.
He needed to find sanctuary before the toxin paralysed him completely.
With his vision beginning to blur, Caelan remembered Lady Elara's offer of emergency assistance: "The Gilded Quill" shop in the eastern market, with the passphrase "Ravens fly where thorns cannot grow."
It was his only chance.
Caelan staggered through the sleeping market district, the poison fire spreading through his veins. He found the shop—a modest storefront with a painted quill sign—and pounded on its back door.
When it opened, revealing a startled middle-aged man, Caelan managed to gasp out the passphrase before collapsing across the threshold.
He awoke hours later on a narrow cot, his side bandaged and the burning poison neutralised.
The shopkeeper explained that Lady Elara maintained several such safe houses throughout the capital, equipped with antidotes for known assassin poisons.
"The lady said you might come," the man explained, handing Caelan a sealed letter.
"She also asked me to give you this if you arrived in distress."
Inside the envelope, Caelan found a small key and a note in Elara's elegant handwriting:
"The Whisper was detained by Fenn's agents after your success with Thane, but managed to place your payment before her capture. The dead drop was compromised, but this key opens a lockbox at the Golden Crown Inn, room twelve. What you seek is there. —E"
Despite his still-weakened state, Caelan insisted on collecting the intelligence immediately.
The shopkeeper provided a disguise—simple merchant's clothes—and directed him to the inn through back streets to avoid any watching eyes.
The lockbox contained exactly what the Whisper had promised: detailed records of Lord Vaeron Fenn's financial dealings, including massive debts to foreign banking houses in Merkesh and Ostoria.
The documents revealed that Fenn had overextended himself, purchasing political influence and expanding his estates.
His public display of wealth was largely an illusion—he stood on the brink of financial ruin.
More importantly, the records showed that Fenn had personally guaranteed these loans with all his lands and titles.
If exposed, his creditors could legally seize everything House Fenn possessed.
It was the leverage Caelan had been seeking—a weapon that could destroy Vaeron without a single drop of blood spilled.
As he studied the documents in the shopkeeper's back room, Caelan reflected on the night's revelations.
The Black Halo was more dangerous than he'd anticipated, combining magical enhancements with professional killing skills.
Their connection to the Eclipsed Order confirmed the cult's growing influence and resources.
Most disturbing was their insistence that Caelan had somehow "awakened" the shadow magic, causing the Black Seraph to stir in its prison.
Despite the Whisper's explanation that Morvian Albrecht had trapped rather than bargained with the entity, the cultists believed otherwise—and wanted Caelan for their purposes.
The wound in his side throbbed, a reminder of how close he'd come to capture or death.
The Black Halo would try again, now that they knew his capabilities more fully.
Next time, they would be better prepared for his Nullcraft techniques.
But so would he.
Every encounter with an enemy revealed their methods, their weaknesses.
The poison they'd used was now known to him, its antidote available.
Their magical enhancements, while powerful, were susceptible to Nullcraft disruption.
Every enemy makes you stronger if you survive the encounter.
And now, with the financial records in his possession, Caelan had gained something even more valuable than combat experience—the means to destroy House Fenn without ever facing Vaeron in battle.
The shopkeeper brought him tea and fresh bandages, along with news that Lady Elara would meet him the following evening to discuss what he'd found.
As dawn approached, Caelan carefully secured the documents and prepared to return to his lodgings where Aldric waited anxiously.
The royal conclave continued for another week, during which he would need to maintain his facade of weakness while maneuvering his newly acquired pieces on the board.
The game had grown more dangerous, but also more promising.
For the first time since awakening in this world, Caelan could see a clear path to House Albrecht's resurrection.