In the Kingdom’s Outer Region, a hut could be seen in the heart of a lush, dense forest, nestled comfortably between a towering mountain and a crystal-clear stream.
The Mountain was behind it and the stream was in front of it.
In this simple hut, a man could be seen sitting on a chair and reading a newspaper.
This man had striking grey eyes. His eyes were intense and cold as if he was a reaper from hell ready to claim souls. His skin was unusually pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He was dressed in black, his mouth covered by a mask, and his most distinctive feature was the three-streak tattoos running across his eyes.
There was a table next to him. On the table, a long-distance communication cursed artifact was placed.
Ring-ring-ring!
Suddenly, the artifact stirred from its slumber, ringing with an intensity that drew the man’s attention.
He swiftly shifted his gaze from the newspaper to the artifact, curiosity replacing his previously calm expression.
Without wasting a second, he picked up the long-distance communication cursed artifact and answered the incoming call, saying, “Who’s calling to place a hit?”
This man went by the name Marvick, a name that held a fearsome reputation within the shadows of the kingdom.
His role in society was one that many shunned, for he was an assassin.
Marvick had a simple, though grim, line of work: he dealt in death.
For the right price in gold or the highly valuable zombie nuclei, he would exterminate anyone, be it a lowly peasant or an influential noble.
His bloodline skill set was a unique commodity in this treacherous world of great inequality where human life was sometimes as cheap as cabbage and sometimes more valuable than a mountain of gold, and he exploited it to its full potential.
The individuals who dared to reach out to him were those who had a deadly objective in mind. These were not the faint-hearted, but people who were desperate, vengeful, or power-hungry. They all sought his lethal services for one reason – they wanted someone eliminated from their paths.
This demand for his lethal skills translated into more work opportunities for Marvick, and naturally, more income.
Marvick was not perturbed by the ethical implications of his profession.
To him, the concepts of morality and immorality were simply two sides of the same coin.
In his view, he was merely a facilitator, a tool wielded by those who sought his services.
His job was to execute orders without question and to collect his payment once the deed was done.
So, in this harsh world where survival was the only thing that mattered, Marvick thrived as one of the most renowned affordable assassins.
His name was synonymous with death as he had never once failed a job!
A moment of silence, then a voice crackled over the artifact, “It’s me, Marvick. Keith Stroud.”
At the sound of the name, a smirk played on Marvick’s lips.
Keith Stroud – the man to whom he owed his life.
The past unspooled in his mind with crystal clarity.
He was no stranger to Keith or his background. 𝞸𝔳𝓛xt.𝑪𝗈𝐌
Keith Stroud was the adopted son of the previous head of the Stroud noble family.
Marvick held Keith in high esteem as when he was the slave of the Strouds, he was the only one who showed him kindness.
The Strouds had raised Marvick into an assassin.
In a week alone, they had him eliminate more than a dozen targets.
Among his victims was a high-ranking noble, a known adversary of the Stroud family. The noble was a powerful individual, a rank 5 bloodline user with immense wealth. Yet, Marvick, who was a level 3 bloodline user then, successfully executed the hit.
Marvick’s unique bloodline skill was his trump card. His ability to cast illusions that targeted one’s consciousness was a terrifying weapon. Those who were burdened with guilt and fear were unable to resist his power, falling prey to his deadly illusions.
However, his strength came with limitations. He had to make the first move. If he failed to launch the initial attack, the tables would quickly turn against him. This was due to the significant gap in power between a level 3 and level 5 bloodline user.
The noble he had assassinated was far from virtuous. His sins were many, his guilt profound, and he was a devout follower of the God of Light.
This combination made him vulnerable to Marvick’s illusions, ultimately leading to his downfall.
However, the repercussions of his actions were dire. Killing a noble was a transgression of the highest order, akin to defying the Queen herself.
Marvick became a wanted man, pursued by the Queen’s guard and bounty hunters alike!
Moreover, the Stroud family, concerned about their role in the assassination being discovered, turned against Marvick.
Betrayed, he found himself fighting for his life against not only the Queen’s guard, and the bounty hunters, but also his former masters!
Keith intervened at the crucial juncture, saving Marvick from the pursuers and smuggling him to the outer region where Marvick found a new lease on life. Sometimes he worked as Keith’s shadow, assassinating whoever he wanted dead, but most of them, he worked as an independent contractor, and he had earned a lot from this.
Throughout the years, Marvick had efficiently handled various assignments from Keith.
The tasks were challenging but manageable, and the rewards were sufficient.
The arrangement benefited both of them.
Thus, their relationship was quite solid.
“Lord Keith,” Marvick said, “It’s only been a few days since you last contacted me. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“No pleasantries needed, Marvick,” came Keith’s straightforward reply. “I have a task for you.”
Marvick leaned back, his interest piqued.
“Who’s the unfortunate soul?”
“A young boy named Val V. Whitemore.”
Keith Stroud had a deep-seated reason for wanting Val Whitemore dead. Val had crossed a line by brutally beating Keith’s son.
For Keith, this was an affront he couldn’t bear quietly.
However, he was unable to retaliate openly due to Joshua’s influence and power.
However, that didn’t mean he would let this act go unanswered.
Therefore, he decided to orchestrate Val’s assassination in secret.
If everything was done skillfully and without a trace, Joshua would be left without any concrete proof of who was behind his son’s demise.
The absence of solid evidence would be a barrier to his pursuit of justice.
Even if he had his suspicions and believed that the Strouds were involved, without proof, his hands would be tied.
Additionally, Joshua would have to consider the political ramifications of his actions.
If he chose to retaliate without proof, he risked sparking off a conflict not only with the Strouds but also potentially with the Queen’s Court and the other influential figures of the kingdom.
Not to mention, although Joshua’s status as a level 7 warrior, he was not the only one in the kingdom with such power.
There were many others of equal or even greater strength, and causing a disturbance could draw their ire.
Even if he were filled with rage and grief over the death of his son, he would be forced to act with restraint unless he wished to antagonize these powerful entities.
Thus, the political balance and need for evidence would act as a shield for Keith.
As long as he played his cards right, he could ensure the death of Val while keeping himself safe from reprisal.
The court was a place of cold facts and irrefutable evidence, and without these, no one could touch him!
Marvick frowned at the revelation. “You mean the second son of Joshua V. Whitemore? The Ruler of the IronSpire Stronghold?”
“That’s the one.”
Marvick let out a hollow laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Lord Keith. Assassinating the son of a level 7 warrior right under his nose is a death sentence, even for an illusionist like me.”
Illusionists were bloodline users who could weave intricate mirages that blurred the lines between reality and illusion.
They were adept at creating vivid, immersive illusions that ensnared their opponents, making them victims of their own perceptions and trapping them within a maze of deceptive imagery.
Marvick’s ability allowed him to manifest the deepest fears of his targets in front of their eyes. The horrors the victims see would be so petrifying and realistic that they might be immobilized in the best case. In the worst case, their mental stats might shatter.
It was because of this skill that Marvick managed to assassinate a person two levels stronger than him in the last.
However, Joshua was 4 levels above him. The gap in their abilities was astronomical. He had no confidence that he would be able to assassinate someone under his nose.
“Don’t shoot the idea down so quickly,” Keith said, “Val’s leaving the IronSpire stronghold soon. He will be heading to the Northern Frontier on a train tomorrow. There would be no Joshua to protect him on that train. You just need to make sure that he stops breathing before the train reaches its destination.”
“Killing a bloodline user in a train filled to the brim with prying eyes? That’s a risky play, especially considering there are bound to be other bloodline users keeping watch. It’s like setting myself up for a swift arrest,” Marvick argued.
“Why do you underestimate so? I’ve thoroughly accounted for all variables, Marvick,” Keith retorted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms with a confident smirk. “I’ve devised an intricate plan to assassinate Val. I’ll orchestrate a diversion to keep the gaze of the Bloodline Users protecting the Train fixed where we want it. I’ll sow a seed of chaos to misdirect their focus. All you need to do is wait for the perfect opportunity amidst the confusion, then strike decisively.”
Marvick was silent for a moment, contemplating.
This wasn’t a simple hit.
After all, the Whitemores were influential, and Val was the son of a Level 7 Warrior.
However, he owed Keith, and in their world, a debt must be repaid.
Not to mention, the plan proposed by Keith seemed plausible.
“Alright, Keith. I owe you for saving my skin. I’ll do this. But we’re even after this.” Marvick said after a moment.