Eryndor Estate – Duel in the Dark
Leon barely dodged the assassin’s next strike, rolling over the table as a dagger embedded itself into the wood where his chest had been.
His attacker was relentless—silent as death itself. Their movements were precise, fluid, *inhumanly fast*.
Leon countered with a slash, aiming to force distance.
*Too slow.*
The assassin sidestepped, slipping into his blind spot.
A sharp sting—pain flared in Leon’s side. Blood dripped from a fresh wound.
Leon hissed, stepping back, saber raised.
The assassin didn’t press the attack. They stood still, watching him, analyzing.
Leon exhaled, steadying his breath. "You’re good," he admitted. "But I’ve killed better."
The assassin tilted their head.
Then they vanished.
Leon’s instincts screamed. He twisted just in time—*barely* deflecting a blade aimed at his throat. The force sent him stumbling back.
They’re reading me.
Every counter he attempted was anticipated. Every move he made was exploited.
This wasn’t like fighting The Whisper.
This was something else entirely.
And for the first time in a long while—Leon Eryndor realized he was outmatched.
---
Celica’s Return
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Celica was halfway across the estate when she felt it.
That instinct—*something was wrong*.
She quickened her pace, weaving through the ruined corridors. The air was heavy, tense.
Then—
The clash of steel.
Her eyes narrowed. "*Leon.*"
She sprinted.
---
The Breaking Point
Leon’s vision blurred as another cut opened across his shoulder. His saber felt heavier with every swing.
*I can’t win this head-on.*
He shifted his stance, switching from aggression to survival—dodging, parrying, *waiting*.
The assassin struck low, feinting for his ribs—Leon twisted, raising his saber—
Wrong move.
The assassin spun, blade slicing across his back.
Leon gasped as pain flared through his body. He barely remained standing.
The assassin didn’t hesitate.
They lunged for the finishing blow—
A dagger flew from the shadows.
The assassin barely dodged. The blade missed their eye by an inch.
Celica landed between them, daggers drawn. "You look like you could use a hand."
Leon exhaled. "Took you long enough."
The assassin didn’t react. They simply adjusted their stance—this time, acknowledging Celica as a threat.
Leon wiped blood from his mouth. "Now let’s see how they do against two of us."
---
The Assassin Retreats
The fight changed immediately.
Celica was fast. Faster than Leon. Her dual blades moved in a relentless flurry, forcing the assassin to shift their attention.
Leon pressed the attack from the other side.
Now, they were the ones being pushed back.
Then—
The assassin *jumped*, landing on the windowsill. Their cloak billowed as they looked at Leon one last time.
No words. No sound.
Just a message in their eyes.
This isn’t over.
Then they were gone, vanishing into the night.
Silence filled the room.
Leon slumped against the wall, pressing a hand to his wounds. "*That was close.*"
Celica knelt beside him, pulling a bandage from her pouch. "You’re an idiot."
Leon chuckled. "I’m alive, aren’t I?"
Celica rolled her eyes. "Barely."
Leon closed his eyes, taking a slow breath.
Draymore had just escalated the war.
And now, Leon needed to strike *before* the assassin returned.
He opened his eyes. "*We’re hitting his financiers tomorrow.*"
Celica frowned. "After that?"
Leon’s grip tightened around his saber.
"Then we go after *Draymore himself*."
---
House Draymore – The Next Move
Kain Draymore received the report in silence.
His assassin had *failed*.
Leon Eryndor *was still alive*.
The messenger knelt before him, trembling. "My lord, what are your orders?"
Kain smiled coldly.
"*Summon the Bloodhounds.*"
The messenger paled. "But, my lord, they—"
Kain’s gaze turned sharp. "*Now.*"
The messenger fled.
Kain turned toward the map of Velkath, fingers tracing the streets leading to Eryndor’s territory.
"You want war, Leon?" he whispered.
His smile widened.
"*Then war it is.*"
---
End of Chapter Eighteen
