Night draped the city like a velvet curtain as Solace descended from the skies, his figure melting into the alleyways. He needed a disguise—one that would blend him into the human night. Shhh... he glided past shuttered windows, the sound of his breath barely a whisper in the empty streets.
He spent 300,000 mana stones in a single breath—purchasing baggy black sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and nothing else. Barefoot. Mask on. All black from head to toe. Click-click, the coins exchanged hands bureaucratically, but Solace barely registered them. He looked in a cracked mirror, nodded, and vanished into the darkness.
"System, how long will this war last?" he asked while ascending into the star-kissed sky.
[If things continue unchecked, another 5–10 years. But... your assassination of the Dragon Prince could swing the war.
• If humanity gains ground, expect 25–30 years of drawn-out conflict.
• If the dragons go all out, they'll crush every human hold.]
Solace's black eyes glinted beneath the mask. "Fuck that. I do this my way. That prince—and Solara—owe me. Big time."
Up above, the lands of the Fire Dragons spread like scarred muscle—volcanic peaks, battle-ravaged villages, rivers of ash. Shhh, the wind whispered around him as he surveyed.
He dropped down into the shadows again, dwarfing into an alley amidst dragonkin guards. Rustle... rustle—he tail-shadowed them, absorbing their routines. Patterns. Weak points. Patrol distances. Watch rotations.
Once armed with intel, he unfurled his clinched fists, tension and purpose intertwining. Whoosh—he was airborne again, light as a ghost, heading toward the heart of the Dragon realm: the Prince's stronghold.
He dropped into the shadows again, merging seamlessly into an alley where dragonkin guards patrolled. Rustle...rustle—he mirrored their strides, absorbing patterns, memorizing weak points, watch rotations.
Once armed with intel, he tensed. Whoosh—he was back airborne, ghostlike, heading toward the heart of the Dragon realm: the Prince's stronghold.
Upon reaching the stronghold, his Abyssal Eye scanned methodically. Two guards, chatting distractedly near a torch-lit hallway.
Leaning into the darkness, Solace let them speak:
"This war drags on until the Prince gets what he wants. He could care less about the Humans—what he wants is that Princess."
"Speaking of the Princess… whatever happened to that consort? He disappeared years back."
"Tsk—who cares about that pathetic human! Haha, thought he could touch the Prince's woman. He's probably long dead."
Solace remained motionless. With lethal grace, he plucked a single pebble from the ground and flicked it toward the pair.
|Swap|
SHK!
THUD! THUD!
They collapsed—silenced before they knew what struck. This time, oddly, Solace received no essence. He didn't pause to question it; instead, he melted once more into the shadows.
He wasn't just there to kill the Prince—he was there to raze the stronghold in one night.
Hour after hour, he slashed through patrolling dragons with feather-quiet efficiency—each strike precise, each fall silent. The Phantom Slash cut bones and armor like paper, while Shadowstep kept him undetected.
For every corpse, he did something peculiar: he collected their blood into a mystic container—blood of roughly sixty Dragons now preserved in chilling silence.
Finally, Solace stood at the threshold of the Prince's chamber. The door marked the end of his journey tonight. His heart pounded—not with fear, but with the fire of revenge.
Beyond the wood, he could hear rhythmic breathing. The Prince lay on a lavish bed, alive, confident, oblivious to the doom approaching.
Solace didn't intend a simple kill tonight. No.
He would repay his pain... a thousandfold.
Solace stepped from the shadows, his silhouette framed by shattered moonlight. In his hand, the all-black katana dripped with deep crimson—each droplet a testament to his silent resolve.
"System—just to be clear, after I… dispatch him, the task is considered complete?"
[Yes, Solace. Technically, yes—though this has history. But remember assassins don't succumb to emotions. From now on, only the kill matters.]
Solace said nothing further. His expression was unreadable behind the mask as he approached the sleeping prince.
With eerily calm precision, he grabbed the dragon by his hair and flung him across the chamber.
BOOOM!
The Prince slammed against the opposite wall with thunderous force.
"Wake up, lizard boy. It's time for reparations."
The Prince blinked twice, his dazed senses reorienting. Sulphurous air tingled as the moonlight glimmered off his scaled skin.
Eldest Dragon Prince smiled wickedly seeing the familiar mask.
"So, you're still alive? This makes it all the more… worth it, pitiful human."
With a roar, the Prince lunged forward. His clawed hands sliced through the air, aiming straight for Solace's mask. But Solace moved with fluid grace—whoosh, imperceptible movement.
Then came the monumental blow: Solace's foot collided with the Dragon's ribcage, sending him flying across the chamber.
Thud!
As the Prince groaned to his feet, Solace's voice cut through the tension with chilling clarity.
"You know, I never thought about it either—but who the fuck said I'm a human?"
The words rang with quiet steel.
The Prince staggered upright, his expression changing. No longer smug—now, uncertain.
"H-how… how could you already be—peak of the Mortal Realm? Level 500—like me...?"
A heavy stillness filled the chamber as Solace stood facing the fallen prince. Shadows danced across cracked stone and the scent of burnt ash mixed with the faint coppery tang of spilled dragon blood. Solace's masked silhouette radiated cold power.
Then, in a voice that broke the silence, he murmured.
"Fuck it."
With that declaration, he slid his hand up—smooth and deliberate—to his mask. The world seemed to pause as he removed it. The mask hovered in his grip for a heartbeat, then vanished into the System's inventory with a faint click.
When he finally turned, Solace's face was revealed—handsome beyond memory. Years of suffering had refined, not ruined him. His features were sharp as obsidian, skin tanned and resilient. His pitch-black eyes held only white specks of light—cold and unblinking.
It was that face the Prince would never forget.
"Remember this face—the one who will make your life a living hell… just before you learn what hell really means."
A brittle silence followed the words. Even the air seemed to tighten. Solace's eyes didn't waver. They held focus, promise, and a quiet intensity that spoke of the power lingering underneath.
The Dragon Prince, still on one knee, bristled. Shock and fear flickered across his features—a blur of astonishment that faded into unwavering resolve. He rose slowly, clawed fists clenched around the memory of that unmasked visage.
---
Solace didn't waste a heartbeat.
HUMMM!
CRACKLE!
All of his affinities erupted in explosive unison.
White Phoenix flames spiraled and engulfed him like a sacred torrent—swoosh—scorching darker corners to ash.
Lightning crackled, shards of electric fury dancing across his skin—ZZZZAP!—air buzzing with power.
Shadows slithered, crawling across the floor, wrapping around the Prince like phantom chains—whoosh, wrap.
Space itself twisted, walls stretching, distance collapsing—warp, rip—as Solace bent reality around them.
The chamber became both arena and storm, Solace the eye.
He walked towards the Dragon Prince and went his katana he slowly began cutting into the dragon. From head to toe, for hours on end the dragon was cut in every way possible. He didn't simply assassinate the Prince, no, he paid back all the humiliation more than 1,000-fold. By the time he was done, the prince had no horns left on top of his head, his scales were shaved off, his tail was cut off as well.
Once Solace was done, he used his blood moon ring to control the blood in the room. Majority of it was gathered into his container, but at small portion was left for something else.
At the end of it all he beheaded the prince and left a message written in blood.
'Faceless was here.... Solara you're next'
And with that Solace put his mask back on and left the Dragon Lands.