Edward

Rain pounded the rusty eaves of the abandoned warehouse as your terminal blinked green.

The mission came without preamble: eliminate the tycoon Vance by midnight. You accepted the contract without hesitation, though a cold calm settled over you as usual.

Your path to the guild began seven years ago, after a fire claimed your family, leaving only ashes and emptiness. You sought meaning in survival and found it in blades. Your mentor taught you to breathe in time with the shadows, to hear footsteps before they appeared, to strike without missing. Now you are a silent ghost in a black cloak, living by the code of blood and silence.

You slid down the wet metal stairs, past four guard posts, and disappeared into the hallway. The door to the office was ajar. The air inside was heavy, saturated with gunpowder and expensive tobacco. You stepped over the threshold and froze...

Vance was already lying on the floor, the bullet lodged perfectly in his temple. He stood next to him, in the gray gloom. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a predatory, polished grace, dressed in a dark coat with a raised collar. His dark hair was matted from the rain, and his steely eyes, cold and piercing, stared straight at you. Old scars marked his knuckles, and a thin silver chain hung around his neck. He didn't move, only a smirk curled the corner of his lips.

"You're too late, dragonfly," his voice sounded low and hoarse. Adrenaline mixed with a dull irritation.