The rain in lower district never really let up, it just went from hard pour to this annoying steady drip that made everything wet and miserable. I was standing there over the old man's body, boot pressing a bit on his chest without thinking much, watching how the blood came out slow from the stab wound, mixing with the water and sliding off toward the gutter like it had somewhere to be. His fingers twitched couple more times before stopping for good. I counted about seven seconds in my head. Not bad for an old bastard his age - maybe those spirit stones he was hiding gave him a little extra kick before the end.
He had opened his mouth right before, voice all shaky and low like he thought someone might hear and come running.
Please… my daughter… she needs the stones…
I let him finish talking, didn't cut him off rude or anything. Gave a nod, just one, polite enough. Then took the knife from my belt and put it in between his ribs where it would do the job quick. Felt the blade slide in smooth, no fight from the bone or muscle. Blood got hot on my fingers right away, sticky kind that cools fast in rain. He made a small gasp noise and that was it, eyes went dull staring at the alley wall. Died clean. No screaming mess. No shaking in my hand after. Regret? That's for weak people who can't see the path clear. I stopped keeping that shit a long time ago, weighs you down too much when you're trying to climb.
Bent down anyway, checked his robe pockets with one hand while holding the knife in the other. Found three low-grade spirit stones tucked away deep, glowing that faint blue color like they were half dead themselves. Not much power left in them, barely enough to trade for a meal or cheap healing pill, but better than empty pockets so I slipped them into my own pouch. The jade pendant hanging on a cord around his neck was cracked bad already, looked like it had taken a hit sometime before I showed up, so I yanked it off rough and tossed it into the gutter water running by. Made a little splash then sank out of sight. Gone quick. Just like whatever hope he had for that daughter of his. Gone like any obstacle that steps in front of what I need to do.
That's when the whisper hit me. Didn't come from the alley or the rain. Started right inside my head, soft at first, kind of hollow sounding.
Voren… Ashkarn…
My name yeah, but not my voice saying it. Not anyone's really. Sounded like wind finding its way through some old broken temple door, bouncing around empty rooms with no one left to pray or listen. Kept echoing faint, like it was coming from far off but close at the same time.
Stood still there for maybe two breaths. Listened proper. The pull started right after in my chest, tight squeeze but not hurting kind, more like something hooking in and tugging steady. Not fear or worry. Promise maybe. More than these weak stones could give. Strength enough to go back to the clan one day, crush the elders who threw me out like trash when the curse hit our family line. Or bigger than that, something to make this whole weak body of mine into a tool that doesn't break easy. Didn't know the details yet. Didn't need to right then. If it leads to getting stronger, I'll follow it wherever. Price for that? Whatever they want. Always paid before and came out ahead.
Pulled the knife out of his chest slow so it wouldn't tear more than needed. Wiped the blade back and forth on his wet robe until the blood mostly came off. Kept the stones safe in pouch. Stepped right over the body without bending down again or looking extra. Blood from his wound stuck a little to the bottom of my boot sole, made a small print on the stone when I lifted it. Left it like that. No point wiping in rain - mark proves I was here tonight. Proves I handle what needs handling without the hand shaking after.
Alley mouth opened up to the main street a few steps away. Paper lanterns hanging from poles swung back and forth in the wind coming down from the mountains, throwing shaky light on the faces of people hurrying by with cloaks pulled tight. They all kept heads down, eyes on ground or shadows, not meeting anyone else's gaze. Normal kind of night down here where low rank gu users scrap for bits of power and survival. Nobody glanced my way even once. Nobody cared about an alley smell or what went on inside it.
Turned left without breaking stride, headed straight for the old temple ruins sitting at the very edge of the district. Used to be the Ashkarn clan main hall back when we had something worth calling a name, before the hollow god curse rolled in and ate the whole bloodline from the inside out, left nothing but crumbling walls and bad stories. The whisper would get louder there, I could feel that pull in my chest tugging harder already, pointing the way like a string tied to bone.
Took one step after another, boots splashing quiet in puddles. Rain kept hitting my hood and shoulders, soaking through slow.
Didn't bother turning head to look back at the body laying there.
Dead weight stays where it falls.
I kept walking through the street, rain hitting my hood like someone tapping fingers on my head, annoying as hell. People rushed past, cloaks up, eyes down, nobody looking at me or the blood still on my boot. Good. Last thing I need is some low-rank idiot noticing and starting trouble.
The pull in my chest got stronger, tugging me toward the temple ruins like a rope around my ribs. Not hurting, just there. Constant. The old Ashkarn place used to be something, back when the name meant power instead of curse. Now it's just broken stone and vines everywhere, red curse marks still glowing on the walls from when the hollow god rolled through and ate the whole family line. My family line.
I got to the gate - big cracked arch, half leaning over like it was drunk. Pushed it with my shoulder. Wood creaked loud, almost broke. Inside the air was thick, smelled like dust and old rot. My boots made wet squish sounds on the tiles.
The whisper hit again, louder now.
Voren…come…
I stopped in the main hall. The altar was split right down the middle, like someone punched it from below. Moss everywhere, old blood stains on the floor from the curse days. The pull was so hard now it felt like something was trying to yank me forward.
Take…the shadow…
Shadow? I looked at my boot old man's blood was still stuck there, dark and sticky. Then it moved. Just slid off like oil, pooled at my feet, then rose up slow into a thin black line that wrapped around my wrist. Cool. Not cold. Just... there. I moved my hand. The shadow moved with it, sharp at the end like a knife tip. Felt solid. Felt mine.
More…if you give…
I stared at it. This thing could kill better than any blade. Could make the clan elders who threw me out regret ever opening their mouths. I flexed my fingers. Shadow twisted. Good.
What do you want? I said out loud, voice bouncing off the broken walls.
The whisper took a second, like it was thinking.
Regrets… give them… all…
I snorted. Regrets? I got none left. Threw them away years ago when the clan said "curse blood" and kicked me to the street.
Take them. I don't have any.
The shadow on my wrist tightened for a second, then spread up my arm, thin and dark. Felt strange. Not bad strange. Just... different. The pull eased a little. Like it was happy.
Rain hammered the broken roof above. Water dripped through cracks onto the floor. My cloak was soaked. Boot still had some blood on it. I should probably clean it later.
Whatever. This shadow thing better be worth it.
Ugh—fk—
Wh-what... what's happening? My body—my organs—wha—?!
Blood kept dripping from my body - out of my ears, my nose, my mouth. Everything hurt. I forced myself to look up at the huge door in front of me, and that's when I saw her. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. She was standing there, smiling. The same woman I had cried for, the one I believed was dead… my mom.
Somehow, through the pain, I tried to speak.
Mo… mom… ho—how are you a-alive?
Just as I spoke, blood started to drip from my eyes, warm and thick against my skin. Then she whispered it softly, as if it meant nothing at all - Just die already.
My body started shaking after hearing that words, anger boiling up inside me. I moved without thinking, my legs giving way as I dropped to the floor, no energy left to lift myself up. My heart began to slow, each beat feeling heavier than the last. It was like the weight of everything crashing down on me, and in that moment, I was completely drained.
I heard footsteps coming closer to me. He started laughing as he kicked my body again and again. Then a group of four men grabbed me and lifted me up. I was conscious, yet not aware, but lost at the same time. I didn't understand what was happening.
When I opened my eyes, I was hanging from a wooden plank in the middle of the kingdom square. A crowd surrounded me, watching, laughing, throwing things - rocks, hammers beating me with hunting whips. I felt nothing. My entire body had gone numb.
Then a woman stepped forward. Without hesitation, she crushed my fingers and broke my leg. She screamed, "Why did you kill my husband? Why?"
When I saw her face, I remembered her. She was the same woman who had paid me to kill her husband with her own hands.
So why was she here now?
Did she regret what she had done… or was this just another form of entertainment for her?
After the woman stepped away, a huge, muscular man came closer, a heated steel rod glowing in his hand.
"now Who the f**k are you? I don't remember ever seeing you… or killing anyone for you." I asked in a broken, cracking voice.
Just as the words left my mouth, he slammed the heated rod into my leg.
"Just shut up," he said with a laugh. "You know what's more entertaining than killing people? Watching them die in front of a crowd. You're right I don't even know who you are. I'm just having fun."
As soon as he finished speaking, he shoved the heated rod toward my face. A blinding agony tore through me, and my vision vanished in an instant.