The moment Adrian stepped past the bloodied knights, a shadow dropped from the rooftops.

  Silent. Precise. Paid.

  A cloaked assassin nded behind him, twin daggers fshing in a cross-ssh toward his neck.

  Adrian ducked.

  The bdes sang over his head as he spun beneath them, one hand already gripping the Earth Knife. He didn’t flinch. His body moved like it had rehearsed this a thousand times.

  The assassin lunged again—daggers high, aiming to drive both into Adrian’s colrbone.

  Adrian stepped inward. Close.

  His left hand caught the assassin’s wrist.

  His right—

  Slice.

  He dragged the knife along the inner elbow, where armor was weakest. The steel edge cut through skin, vein, and tendon like paper. The assassin’s grip sckened instantly.

  Adrian didn’t stop.

  He pivoted, turned behind the assassin, and drove the bde between the third and fourth ribs, just beneath the armpit. The angle was perfect. It bypassed the shoulder guard and pierced directly into the lung.

  The assassin gasped, body buckling.

  Adrian twisted the bde clockwise, severing blood vessels with surgical precision.

  “Quick colpse. Internal bleeding. Lung failure in ten seconds,” he said quietly, almost like a teacher expining a lesson.

  He withdrew the knife slowly—no wasted motion—and as the assassin dropped to one knee, choking on blood, Adrian stepped back.

  “You were good,” he added. “But not paid enough.”

  The assassin fell face-first to the stone, twitching once—then still.

  Adrian wiped the bde on the man’s cloak and slid it back into its sheath.

  No wasted effort. No mercy.

  Just clean execution.

  The wind shifted.

  Adrian's boots crunched to a halt against the cobblestone. His gaze flicked upward.

  Five shadows leapt across the rooftops, cloaks fluttering like vultures in descent. Their bdes were drawn, intent to kill.

  Adrian didn’t flinch.

  He slowly raised the Remington 870, pump-action smooth as silk, and muttered under his breath—

  “Amateurs.”

  BOOM.

  The first shot tore through the nearest shadow mid-air. The slug hit center mass, bsting the body backwards with a spasm of limbs and shattered ribs.

  BOOM.

  The second round shattered roof tiles and caught another in the thigh. Bone splintered; the attacker fell screaming, rolling down the slope.

  Three were still airborne.

  Adrian pumped the shotgun again. The sound shhk-chk echoed with dread.

  He stepped sideways, just in time to avoid a vertical ssh.

  A bde scraped his coat—a mere scratch thanks to the reinforced pting underneath.

  The shotgun spun in his hand.

  He didn’t panic. He paced.

  BOOM.

  Another body folded at the waist, the slug punching through cheap chainmail like tissue. The man hit the ground gasping, a hole gaping in his lower abdomen.

  Two left.

  One came from the right, fast. Too fast.

  Adrian dropped to a crouch and rolled beneath the strike, rising just behind the attacker. He fired at point-bnk, the bst nearly tearing the man's arm off at the shoulder. The assassin shrieked, spinning as if confused by his own bleeding body before colpsing.

  The st one hesitated.

  Wrong move.

  Adrian closed the gap with two long strides, shotgun lowered.

  BOOM.

  This time the slug struck the leg just below the knee. Shattered bone. The attacker screamed as he crumpled.

  Adrian stepped forward, chambered the next round—shhk-chk—and aimed downward, barrel inches from the man’s chest.

  "Don’t follow professionals if you don’t want a professional’s death."

  BOOM.

  Blood spttered the wall behind.

  Adrian exhaled and pumped the shotgun one st time, casually, as if it were nothing more than a tool.

  Five ambushers.

  Zero threats.

  Adrian stood motionless in the dim alleyway, scanning the area around him. The city was quiet, too quiet. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air, remnants of the chaos he had caused earlier. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the target in the distance—the house where the mages had holed themselves up, guarding the princess, who had become nothing more than a pawn in this power struggle.

  The princess was well protected, but Adrian was no stranger to high-risk targets. His hands instinctively brushed over the Weapon System that now y hidden, waiting for his next move. He had eliminated many already, but the mages—they were different. They weren’t like the knights or mercenaries. These were skilled individuals, powerful in their own right, and they had the princess under their watchful eye.

  Adrian's expression remained stoic as he weighed his options. He could approach with his current weapons, but he wanted something specific—something that would let him handle this situation with precision and efficiency. The time had come for him to move in closer, but he needed the right tools.

  With a soft exhale, Adrian activated the Weapon System once again. He spoke, his voice calm, but with a clear intent.

  “I need a drink. A fine wine will do.”

  The system, ever responsive, understood the directive and immediately acknowledged. Its voice appeared before him.

  “Understood. Avaible points: 700.”

  Adrian considered his avaible resources and took a moment to appreciate the sheer efficiency of the system. His current mission required finesse, stealth, and most importantly, a weapon that could do the job without drawing unnecessary attention.

  “Weapon enthusiast mode activated.”

  The system hummed to life, and Adrian remained silent, waiting for it to present him with options. The familiar interface appeared in the air before him, and this time, he didn’t need to scroll. He trusted the system to make the best decision.

  “For your requirements, a high-tier sniper rifle is recommended.”

  Adrian gave a slight nod, already knowing this would be his choice. The weapon system knew exactly what he needed—an instrument of silence and precision. His voice remained calm, yet there was an edge to it, the same tone someone would use when ordering the finest wine at a restaurant.

  “Your choice: CheyTac M200 Intervention sniper rifle. Cost: 400 points.”

  Without hesitation, the sniper rifle appeared in Adrian’s hands. He examined it, the smoothness of the metal, the cold weight of it in his grip. The system’s voice continued to expin the weapon's features.

  “Effective range: 2500 meters. Bolt-action with suppressed barrel for stealth. Ideal for long-range, high-precision shots. Perfect for eliminating fortified targets.”

  He rotated the rifle in his hands, taking in every detail. This was no ordinary sniper. It was designed to ensure the cleanest kill from a distance. He wasn’t interested in anything less.

  “Magazine: 5 rounds, high-tier ammunition. .408 CheyTac AP, armor-piercing, subsonic velocity for near-silent operation. Designed to penetrate most types of armor with minimal sound disturbance.”

  Adrian smiled to himself. This was exactly what he needed.

  The mages, who had once been powerful figures, would soon learn how irrelevant their magic was when faced with precision and expertise. He gnced over the house where they were hiding. There were guards around, but they wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

  Adrian took his position, setting up for the perfect shot. His scope aligned with the first mage’s head, and without a second thought, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet tore through the air, a whisper in the night.

  The mage fell instantly, and Adrian moved with the practiced fluidity of a professional assassin. One by one, the mages were taken down with surgical precision. Their spells and incantations were powerless against the speed and accuracy of the rifle.

  When it was all over, only the princess remained. She had no idea what had just happened to her protectors. Adrian adjusted his position, taking one st steady breath. He was about to end this. The system had provided him with the perfect tools, and now, it was time to finish what he had started.

  Adrian remained calm, his eyes locked onto the princess as she paced nervously in the shadows of the house, unaware of the danger closing in on her. The remaining mages y lifeless, their blood staining the cobblestone beneath them. His target now stood before him—defenseless and unaware.

  Slowly, Adrian lifted the CheyTac M200 Intervention sniper rifle to his shoulder, the scope aligning with the princess’s head. The crosshairs were steady, his breathing controlled. Time seemed to slow as he adjusted his aim, lining up the perfect shot. He wanted her to feel the bullet before it reached its destination.

  As he squeezed the trigger, the shot rang out. The bullet zipped through the air, slicing through the silence of the night. The princess, startled by the sudden noise, turned instinctively toward the sound, her eyes wide with fear.

  The moment she locked eyes with Adrian’s position, the trigger was pulled again.

  Boom.

  The bullet tore through the air and struck her square in the head, instantly ending her life in a fsh. Her body crumpled to the ground as the life drained from her eyes.

  Adrian remained perfectly still, watching as her blood pooled around her. He didn’t need to move from his spot. This was the kind of work he was built for. Efficient. Clean. Silent.

  As the princess’s body y lifeless, Adrian whispered to himself, his voice cold and calcuted, echoing the calmness of a professional hitman.

  “Never trust anyone who believes they’re untouchable.”

  With a st gnce at the fallen princess, he slowly lowered the rifle and began to walk away, disappearing into the shadows. The night had become silent once more, his work finished with precision and expertise.

  As the rising sun bled across the skyline, Adrian stepped through the ruined gate, his boots crunching over scattered debris and shattered dreams. Behind him, silence—broken bodies, broken magic, and a royal bloodline ended with a whisper of gunpowder.

  He didn’t look back.

  He adjusted his coat, smoke still curling off his barrel, then pulled a fresh magazine from his belt and slid it into pce with a satisfying click.

  The world had thrown him into its hell... and he brought Earth’s arsenal with him.

  Adrian muttered with a low, dangerous grin:

  "Let them keep their spells and swords. I’ll take this world with gunpowder and lead."

  Then he vanished into the sunrise—his war just beginning.