Jack’s empowered arrow flew true, slicing through the air… burying itself into the mage’s throat with a wet thud.

  The wand clattered from the mage’s hand. He gurgled something incoherent, staggered… then toppled backwards over the crumbling wall.

  Jack was already moving, bow in one hand, dagger drawn in the other, when a system notification appeared. “What the fuck!”

  [System Message-Internal View]

  [Novice Archer Class Levelled]

  [Novice Archer (1)]

  Jack dismissed the notification and tried to put it out of his mind while he dealt with the mage.

  Is he dead? Skidding to a halt five or six feet away from the wall… he hesitated. Be dead…

  If the mage was still alive, he could blast Jack point-blank as soon as he looked over the wall.

  Fuck. Jack slung the bow over his shoulder and pulled out a blinding powder. If this goes wrong, I’ll use a [Frost Breath] scroll. He touched his breast pocket where his scrolls were stored.

  The silence pressed in; all Jack could hear was his pounding heartbeat as he ducked low, creeping closer… With a shaking hand, he lobbed the blinding powder over the wall. A small pop, a flash of silvery dust, and faint drifting sparkles covered the area.

  With caution, Jack moved sideways, stuck his head up just long enough for a peek, then ducked back down. He exhaled with relief. “Thank the Gods.”

  The mage was dead.

  Jack climbed over the wall, confirming the kill. Worried the noise of several [Fireball] spells might attract attention, he scanned the street. Nothing. No shouts or running feet. Just a faint breeze and the distant sounds of city life, soft and far away.

  He crouched by the body and worked fast to loot the body. Two coin pouches, a pocket watch, a folded map and letter, a small velvet box, and a bronze ring. Jack swept everything into his pack without pausing.

  The leather armour caught his eye. “I’m not stripping another dead body,” Jack muttered to himself, shuddering as he remembered the ordeal of lying next to the half-naked dead rogue under the tree roots. “That was damn creepy!”

  He crouched again, working on the spent arrows that were embedded in the mage’s chest and throat. He didn’t want to leave any evidence. Damn! He’d remembered [Assassin’s Mark] was active on the mage when he died; with a simple thought, he could’ve checked if the target was still alive.

  The arrow in the mage’s throat slid free; he wiped the gore off on the mage’s clothing. Jack checked on the bald-headed warrior via [Assassin’s Mark]. He was alive and appeared to be still heading in the same direction.

  He began work on the other arrow, buried deep in the chest… It refused to budge past the ribs. He gritted his teeth, wrestled with it for a few more moments, before giving up. With a frustrated grunt, Jack snapped the shaft, leaving the arrowhead embedded in the corpse.

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  “This fucking sucks.” Glancing around, he spotted a rotten door propped up against the crumbling wall. He dragged it over the top of the corpse as sweat dripped down his back. It wouldn’t hide the body forever, but it might buy some time.

  Only then did he climb back over the broken wall to retrieve the mage’s wand. He scooped it up, along with the arrow that had missed its mark, before shouldering his pack and moving away.

  Jack was halfway down the ruined street when…

  Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

  The sharp, echoing sound of boots on cobbles rang out behind him.

  Jack’s chest clenched. “Shit…” He ducked into the shadow of a half-collapsed doorway, pulling his cloak tight, his heart hammering like a drum, every nerve on edge as he was swallowed by [Shadow Veil].

  As Jack controlled his breathing, voices and footsteps approaching from the north end of the street drifted closer.

  A silhouette emerged onto the ruined street; a tall, broad-shouldered, armoured male with a sword. The figure paused, looking left, then right. Another silhouette slipped out behind him, slimmer, with the telltale shape of a bow in hand.

  Jack edged deeper into the shadows and held his breath. Did they hear the [Fireball] blasts? With a racing heart, he made himself as small as possible and squeezed further into the embrace of [Shadow Veil].

  More shapes appeared; a full adventurer party. Jack counted them. A warrior in chainmail, a scout, two archers, a mage, and a priest. They slowed as they reached the derelict building, their heads turning in search of danger.

  Jack held his breath as his heart hammered in his chest.

  The scout was the first to move, slipping ahead, vanishing behind the broken wall where the body was hidden. Moments later, his voice drifted out, dry and unimpressed.

  “Another killing. Body stripped of valuables.”

  The priest gave an uneasy sigh. “That’s the third this week.”

  Jack felt ice slide down his spine.

  “What the fuck’s going on in this city?” one of the archers said.

  “Nothing we want to tangle with,” the chainmail warrior said. “Leave it. The city guard can deal with this shit. We’re here for the train contract, not to play street detective.”

  The scout reappeared, shrugging. “Fine by me. Let’s move.”

  The group turned, their boots crunching over rubble as they headed down the opposite street, their conversation fading.

  Jack stayed frozen in the shadows, his chest tight with anxiety, until they were well out of earshot. He waited as the minutes passed, and only when their voices had faded away did he slip out of the doorway, before weaving through the shadows of narrow alleys away from the scene.

  “That was too close,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the mask up just enough to wipe sweat from his face. His fingers trembled as he pressed them to his brow. He wasn’t just shaking from the kill. No, he was shaking from how fast things could’ve gone wrong. Had he been five or six seconds slower, they’d have probably seen him.

  Once he was a dozen streets away, only then did he let himself begin to relax. I’m done for the day. Definitely done. But even as he slipped back towards the heart of the city, one thought wouldn’t leave him. Another killing?

  He was relieved that the mage’s death would be just another victim in a string of recent killings, yet he couldn’t help but wonder, how many victims? And why?

  Jack recalled the new level. He opened his class screen and focussed on his archery class to confirm the level.

  [Class Screen-Internal View]

  Class: Novice Archer (1)

  Compatibility: 23%

  Novice Primary Skills

  - Silent Shot (0)

  - True Aim (0)

  - Piercing Arrow (0)

  - Eagle Eye (0)

  - Bowyer’s Craft (0)

  - Fletcher’s Precision (0)

  “That was faster than expected,” Jack recalled how fast the first Novice Archer level was supposed to take. “It’s not been four or five days of consistent training.” All the books he’d read indicated the first level would come after roughly four and a half days of training. The experts advised several hours of archery practice a day.

  Due to being injured and other commitments, he’d only trained around four hours over the past six days. Realisation hit. I’ve hit a goblin, hit the rat-face rogue, and killed the mage with arrows! The books also advised that hitting living targets resulted in faster gains.

  “The next level won’t be as fast,” Jack assured himself as he headed home. Assuming consistent practice, the next level would take around nine or ten more days.

  Chapter 102 The Murderer In The Mirror