Rain slicked streets reflected the neon glow of the city like shattered glass. Shadows moved between shadows, and among them, he walked—silent, deliberate, invisible to all but the most vigilant.
The gauntlet pulsed against his hand, shifting slightly as if testing the air.
"Target ahead. Guards: four. Magical wards: active, but weak," it whispered. Its voice was calm, almost teasing.
He flexed his fingers. The metal rippled, forming a thin, elongated barrier along his forearm, shielding him from the faint glow of a rune trap. Muscle memory guided his movements with uncanny precision—leaps, rolls, and subtle strikes all flowing like water from a hammer once wielded in a forge he could not recall.
"You move too slow," it scolded lightly.
"Shut up," he muttered under his breath. Not really annoyed—he needed the focus. But the voice made the night less lonely.
Ahead, the target—a merchant known for smuggling forbidden mana relics—stepped into the alley, unaware of the predator following him. The guards were too confident, their strides heavy, their attention divided. Perfect.
He raised his arm, and the gauntlet shifted into a sleek gun. Not ordinary metal—it hummed with its own life, energy flowing along its barrel. The shot was silent, a single pulse of mana piercing the target's chest. No scream, no warning, nothing but a soft thud.
The guards noticed too late. He leapt into shadow, and the gauntlet morphed again, forming a shimmering barrier just in time to deflect two bolts of warding magic.
"See? Told you the alley was safe," it said with a hint of amusement.
He exhaled slowly, landing atop a nearby roof. Rain soaked him, but he felt nothing. Focused. Detached. Alive.
The city sprawled beneath him, a labyrinth of light and dark, of contracts, monsters, and secrets. Somewhere in the chaos, fragments of his past lingered, like sparks buried in ashes. And somewhere, the gauntlet knew more than it let on.
"You're thinking about the forge again," it noted softly.
He looked at his hand, at the living metal hugging his arm. How could it know?
He didn't answer. For now, survival demanded silence—and the next contract waited, as always, in the dark.