The rain in the Lower District didn't wash away the filth; it just made it slicker.
Kaelen stood in the alleyway opposite The Rusty Nail, the water sliding off his black hooded cloak. He adjusted the porcelain mask on his face. It clung to his skin like a second layer of flesh, cold and suffocating.
[Item Equipped: Mask of the Nameless (Rank D).]
[Effect: Identity Obscured. Voice Distorted. Aura Suppressed.]
"Two guards at the front," Vex whispered from the shadows of a rain gutter above him. "Three playing dice by the back exit. And inside... maybe twenty heat signatures."
Kaelen looked at Seraphina. She was huddled under a cloak, holding her staff with white-knuckled grip. She wasn't wearing a mask, just a heavy cowl.
"You stay here," Kaelen's voice was a mechanical rasp, filtered by the mask. "You are the extraction plan. If you see blue flares, blow the back wall."
"Blow the wall?" Seraphina hissed. "We're in the middle of the city! The Guards..."
"If I call for the wall, the Guards are already the least of our problems," Kaelen cut her off. "Do your job, Solar Tyrant."
He didn't wait for her response. He signaled Vex.
Move.
Kaelen walked across the muddy street. He didn't sneak. He walked with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man looking for trouble.
The two bouncers at the door—hulking Orc-blood mercenaries—stepped forward, crossing their spiked clubs.
"Closed private party," one grunted. "Get lost, porcelain face."
Kaelen didn't stop.
"I have an invitation," Kaelen said.
"Yeah? Who signed it?"
Kaelen stepped into the range of the clubs.
"Rian Valerius."
The bouncers froze for a split second, recognizing the name of their employer.
That second was enough.
[Skill: Shadow Step.]
Kaelen flickered. He appeared between the two orcs. He didn't use a sword. He slammed his palms into their solar plexus.
[Abyssal Sun (Touch).]
Black frost erupted from his hands. It wasn't fire; it was the concept of entropy. The orcs didn't fly back. They gasped, their eyes rolling back as the heat was instantly sucked out of their bodies. Their hearts froze mid-beat.
They collapsed silently into the mud.
"Invitation accepted," Kaelen whispered.
He pushed the heavy wooden doors open and stepped into the tavern.
The noise inside was deafening. Mercenaries were drinking, shouting, and sharpening weapons. The air smelled of sour ale, unwashed bodies, and roasted meat.
Kaelen walked to the center of the room. The white mask caught the light of the tallow candles, a ghostly beacon in the smoky gloom.
The shouting died down slowly. One by one, the mercenaries turned to look at the intruder.
At the far table, a man with a scarred face and a jagged steel prosthetic arm stood up. Captain "Iron-Grip" Jarek. Leader of the Black Vipers.
"You've got guts, walking in here dressed like a doll," Jarek spat, kicking his chair aside. "Or you've got a death wish. Which is it?"
Kaelen scanned the room. [Abyssal Sight] highlighted twenty-two targets. Most were Rank F fodder. Jarek was Rank D.
"I'm here to negotiate a cancellation fee," Kaelen distorted voice echoed.
"Cancellation?" Jarek laughed, and the room laughed with him. "We don't do refunds."
"I'm not asking for a refund," Kaelen raised his right hand. "I'm offering a severance package."
Jarek narrowed his eyes. "Kill him."
Three mercenaries closest to Kaelen drew their swords and lunged.
Kaelen didn't draw his blade. He didn't need to.
From the rafters above, three silver streaks descended.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Vex's throwing knives found their marks. Throat. Eye. Throat.
The mercenaries gurgled and dropped before they could swing.
"Ambush!" Jarek roared, flipping the heavy oak table for cover. "Light him up!"
Arrows and magic bolts flew toward Kaelen.
Kaelen finally drew the Mithril Sword.
[Skill: Abyssal Aura (Intimidation).]
He swung the sword, not to block, but to disperse the mana. The black energy coating his blade ate through the low-level firebolts.
He charged.
It wasn't a fight. It was a massacre. Kaelen moved like a phantom, [Shadow Stepping] between enemies. He slashed tendons, broke knees, and used the mercenaries as human shields against their own archers.
He didn't fight with honor. He threw sand in eyes. He kicked groins. He used the environment—smashing a lantern to set the bar on fire, creating chaos.
"Die, you freak!" A mage tried to cast a lightning spell.
Kaelen grabbed a beer mug and threw it with [STR 22]. It shattered the mage's jaw before he could finish the incantation.
Within two minutes, the tavern was a ruin of broken wood and groaning bodies. Only Jarek remained, hiding behind his overturned table.
Kaelen walked toward him, stepping over the unconscious bodies. His boots made a wet, sticky sound on the floorboards.
"Stay back!" Jarek screamed. He pulled a lever on his prosthetic arm. It opened up, revealing a hidden crossbow mechanism loaded with a glowing green bolt.
[Warning: Poison Tipped Bolt (Neurotoxin).]
"You think a mask scares me?" Jarek yelled, aiming at Kaelen's chest. "I've killed better men than you for copper!"
He pulled the trigger.
Twang.
The bolt flew. It was fast. Too fast to dodge at this range.
Kaelen didn't dodge. He caught it.
His left hand—the [Sin Eater] hand—snapped out. He grabbed the shaft of the bolt mid-air, inches from his mask. The force of the impact pushed him back a step, but his grip held.
The neurotoxin sizzled against his skin, but the [Abyssal Sun] energy simply consumed the poison before it could enter his bloodstream.
"You caught it..." Jarek whispered, his eyes widening in horror. "That's impossible."
Kaelen snapped the bolt in half and dropped it.
"Impossible is just a lack of preparation," Kaelen said.
He kicked the table aside. Jarek scrambled back, drawing a dagger, but Kaelen stepped on his prosthetic arm, pinning him to the floor.
Kaelen crouched down, the blank white mask hovering over Jarek's terrified face.
"The contract," Kaelen demanded. "Where is it?"
"I... I burned it!" Jarek stammered. "Standard protocol! No paper trail!"
"Liar."
Kaelen placed his hand on Jarek's chest.
[Sin Eater: Active.]
[Targeting: Fear.]
"I can taste your fear, Captain. It tastes like ink and parchment."
He applied pressure. Black frost began to spread across Jarek's chest.
"Okay! Okay!" Jarek screamed. "It's in the safe! Behind the bar! The combination is 4-9-2!"
"Thank you."
Kaelen knocked him out with a swift punch to the temple.
He walked behind the burning bar, found the safe, and inputted the code. Inside was a bag of gold and a single scroll.
He opened it.
Target: Kaelen Vance. Payment: 5,000 Gold Coins. Client: The House of Valerius. Special Instruction: Make it look like an accident.
Kaelen smiled behind the mask. It wasn't just Rian's signature. It was the seal of Count Valerius, Rian's father.
[Ding!]
[Quest Complete: Pre-emptive Strike.]
[Item Acquired: Incriminating Contract.]
[Loot: 2,000 Gold Coins (Mercenary Stash).]
[Reputation Gained: The Nameless (Urban Legend).]
"Jackpot," Vex called out, dropping from the ceiling. She was covered in soot but grinning. "2,000 gold? That buys a lot of mana crystals."
"Grab the gold," Kaelen ordered, tucking the contract into his coat. "We're leaving."
They moved toward the exit.
But as Kaelen reached for the door handle, he stopped.
The rain outside had stopped. The noise of the city had vanished.
"Too quiet," Kaelen whispered.
[Abyssal Sight] flared.
Outside the tavern, surrounding the building in a perfect semi-circle, were fifty heat signatures. Not mercenaries. These were disciplined. Uniformed.
And standing right in front of the door was a heat signature that burned like a supernova.
[Warning: Rank B Entity Detected.]
"This isn't the City Guard," Kaelen realized, backing away from the door.
A voice amplified by magic boomed through the wooden walls.
"This is Inquisitor Silas of the Church of Light. We have the building surrounded."
"To the Heretic inside... surrender the artifact of the Abyss, and we will grant you a swift execution."
Vex cursed. "The Church? How did they know?"
"They didn't," Kaelen said, his mind racing. "Rian didn't just hire mercenaries. He leaked the location to the Church. He set us up."
If Kaelen walked out, they would sense the Abyss on him instantly. If he fought, he would be branded a Demon Worshipper and hunted by the entire Kingdom.
"Seraphina," Kaelen spoke into the comms stone. "Change of plans."
"Did you find the contract?" Seraphina's anxious voice replied.
"I found a trap," Kaelen said, looking at the back wall of the tavern. "Are you in position?"
"Yes. But the Inquisitor... I can see him. He's charging a spell!"
"Do not engage him," Kaelen ordered. "Aim for the water tower next to the tavern."
"The water tower? But..."
"Do it!"
Kaelen grabbed Vex and dragged her behind the heavy oak bar.
"Hold your breath," Kaelen warned.
Outside, a beam of golden light shot into the sky.
CRACK.
The massive wooden water tower on the adjacent roof groaned and shattered. Thousands of gallons of rainwater cascaded down, slamming into the roof of The Rusty Nail.
The roof collapsed.
The tavern was instantly flooded, the fire extinguished in a cloud of blinding steam and debris.
"Now!" Kaelen roared.
Using the chaos of the collapse and the steam as cover, he activated the [Mask of the Nameless's] secondary ability.
[Skill: Ghost Walk.]
[Description: Grants 5 seconds of intangibility.]
[Cooldown: 24 hours.]
He grabbed Vex and phased through the back wall, sprinting into the flooded alleyway just as the Church Paladins kicked down the front door.
They vanished into the night, leaving the Inquisitor staring at an empty, ruined tavern.