The imperial capital, Eryndor - in the outer city's crowded marketplace.
A heavy wooden door suddenly burst open with a thunderous kick.
A thug wearing a wide-brimmed hat swaggered in, his expression ugly with menace.
"Old Jack! It's already the second day. How much longer do you plan on stalling me?"
On a rickety wooden bed, an old fishmonger with a crippled leg struggled to sit upright. His hands trembled as he pressed them to the sheets. His eyes filled with desperation as he looked at the thug.
"Boss Harlin… you must be mistaken. I already paid everything yesterday! I gave the coins to your man Danny, and he said the debt was cleared…"
"Bullshit!" Harlin snarled. His brows arched sharply, his eyes flashing with cruel light.
"You think you can cheat me, old man? You dare?"
Without warning, he stomped down viciously, his boot grinding into the old man's face.
"Tell me! Where are you hiding the rest of your money?"
Old Jack screamed in pain, clutching desperately at Harlin's boot as he sobbed,
"Boss Harlin, I swear, I have nothing left! Please… please let me go!
"When I first borrowed from the Blackfish Gang, it was only two gold coins. But I've repaid you twenty already! Isn't that enough?"
Harlin only sneered, his lips curling.
"Enough? Not for me."
His foot pressed down harder. The crunch of bone followed, and Old Jack's cry of agony tore through the shabby room.
But then—
A small shadow darted out from beneath the bed. With a scream of defiance, a little girl sank her teeth into Harlin's arm.
"Let go of my father, you bad man!"
Harlin winced in surprise. His gaze dropped, landing on the tiny figure.
"Well, well… Old Jack, I didn't know you had a daughter this big already."
His grin twisted into something vile.
"Fine then. Let me play with her for a few days… and we'll call your debt paid."
Ignoring Old Jack's desperate pleas, Harlin roughly seized the girl by her collar and dragged her outside.
The neighbors in the marketplace had been watching silently.
As Harlin emerged, holding the child in his grip, they all lowered their heads, pretending not to see.
No one dared speak. No one dared resist.
They knew too well what it meant to defy the Blackfish Gang.
And in truth, they hardly found this surprising. Such things happened every day in the outer city. If anything, they thought, Old Jack was lucky.
At least his family was still alive.
Usually, when the Blackfish Gang set their eyes on someone, the process was simple: seize the person, loot their house, slaughter the family. A one-stop service of terror.
Compared to that, Old Jack and his wife surviving could almost be called mercy.
Meanwhile, inside the Blackfish Gang's headquarters—
The deputy leader shifted uneasily, casting a nervous glance at the bald, scarred man seated at the head of the hall.
"Boss… don't you think we've gone too far this time?"
He swallowed, lowering his voice.
"This is still Cardinal Austin's territory. If we stir up too much trouble, won't we draw the Cardinal's wrath?"
The bald boss chuckled darkly, leaning back with contempt written across his face.
"What's there to fear? Do you really think the one who placed us here did so without preparation?
"Do you think he doesn't know about Austin?"
He smirked.
"Either he's already made arrangements with the Cardinal… or perhaps the Cardinal himself is part of the plan.
"And besides—if they ever decide to crack down on us, how will they keep bleeding the Treasury for 'security funds'?"
The deputy's expression didn't ease. A shadow of worry lingered in his eyes.
"Boss, I'm afraid they'll use us until we're no longer useful. Then they'll cast us aside like trash.
"They won't care whether we live or die."
The bald man's smirk faded. His eyes grew thoughtful. He was no fool, and the possibility gnawed at him.
But before he could reply, a sharp, mocking laugh rang from the doorway.
"Bennett, you think too much!"
The voice was smooth, youthful, full of scorn.
"Cowering like pigeons… no wonder you're always afraid of dying."
The doors swung wide.
Three figures stepped inside.
All wore luxurious silken robes, their presence regal and refined. But beneath their elegance radiated something more terrifying—an invisible pressure that crushed down upon the gang members like an iron weight.
"L-Lords… why are you here?"
Both the bald boss and his deputy immediately bowed low, their foreheads nearly touching the floor.
These were no ordinary men.
They had never revealed their true origins, but the aura of awakeners radiated from them like a storm.
In their presence, even the gang leader, a man feared throughout the outer city, dared not breathe too loudly.
It was only thanks to these three that the Blackfish Gang had risen so quickly, seizing territory and spreading like fire.
The leader of the trio—a boy with chestnut curls and an aristocratic face—spoke coldly.
"Your orders are simple. Cause chaos. Spread disorder in the outer city.
"When the time is ripe, you will be permitted to leave."
He waved a hand, his tone casual, yet filled with authority.
"Do as I command, and you will be rewarded. Defy me… and you know the price."
The bald boss forced a grin, nodding rapidly.
"Yes, my lord. Of course. We'll do exactly as you say."
The boy sneered faintly, arrogance written across his every feature. It was this aloofness—this pride—that made the gang leader obey him all the more.
He was no ally. He was a master, and they were dogs.
"From now on, escalate your actions," the youth continued.
"Stir enough chaos, and the treasury will be forced to release military funds.
"The Secretary-General is old and weary. When the empire can no longer sustain itself, he will be forced to extract resources from the palace itself.
"And the royal family… will be left dangling on the edge of collapse."
The bald boss laughed hollowly, eager to please.
"Yes, yes, my lord. We've already begun sending men out. Soon, you'll see the results. Please believe me—we won't let you down."
The boy's lips curled upward.
"The royal family is finished. They are nothing but toys now, pieces on a board to be moved and broken.
"And to toy with them, even for a little while… that, at least, is amusing."
The bald boss forced another laugh, preparing to flatter further.
But then—
A breeze stirred through the hall.
Soft. Almost unnoticeable.
And in the blink of an eye—
The deputy leader's head flew into the air.
Blood sprayed across the floor, scarlet rivulets staining the boards.
The room froze.
Every face turned white.
"What—what just happened?"
The bald boss stared, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
The hall was empty.
No shadows. No assassins. Nothing.
Yet his deputy was dead.
A second breeze swept through.
The chestnut-haired awakener stiffened. Terror filled his eyes.
"An assassin!" he roared, lightning crackling to life along his wrist. Sparks danced furiously, casting the room into jagged illumination as he lunged forward, chasing a phantom he could barely glimpse.
But before he could take more than a step, cold steel kissed his leg.
A single, razor-thin cut.
Then the pain hit.
"AAAAHHHHH!"
He screamed as his leg split open, severed cleanly at the thigh.
Blood gushed out in a fountain, soaking the stone floor. He collapsed, writhing in agony, his screams echoing through the hall.
The other two awakeners panicked, calling forth their powers in haste. Flames and frost shimmered across their hands.
But before they could release their strikes—two shadows rose behind them like wraiths.
And in a heartbeat, both men were cleaved in half.
Their bodies crumpled, torn and broken, the light of their powers extinguished.
The bald boss, Bennett, dropped to his knees.
His body shook violently, drenched in cold sweat.
"What… what is happening?"
His mind reeled.
There were no assassins here. The hall was empty. No intruders, no shadows—nothing.
And yet his deputy, and the three awakeners, were dead within breaths.
These were no ordinary killers.
These were ghosts.
Phantoms that struck without warning, without sound, without mercy.
Panic surged through him. His instincts screamed at him to run.
With a desperate burst of energy, he seized the chance, scrambling toward the door.
But he had barely taken two steps when a flicker of silver light passed before his eyes.
A short blade pierced cleanly through his right eye, bursting out the back of his skull.
His body convulsed once, then collapsed lifeless to the floor.
The headquarters of the Blackfish Gang was silent once more.
Silent… except for the quiet footsteps of assassins unseen, slipping back into the night.