Chapter 3 - Shadows

  Lethe stepped out of the arena, the echoes of his fight with Aery still buzzing in his head. His muscles ached, and his mind felt heavy. That fight had been closer than he wanted it to be—way too close. Aery had been faster, stronger, and more skilled, leaving Lethe questioning just how far he had come.

  Aren walked beside him, his usual cocky smirk absent. Instead, the soldier's expression was unreadable.

  “That Iron guy you fought,” Aren muttered, glancing sideways at Lethe. “He was tougher than expected, but hey, you still defeated him.”

  Lethe nodded without much thought. He wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter. The fight had rattled him. He hated the feeling of barely keeping up. The nagging doubt about his own strength wouldn’t go away, but he pushed it down for now.

  Then, as they turned into a quieter street, a flash of movement caught Lethe’s attention. A group of men in dark robes quickly slipped into an alley. Their movements were calculated, purposeful. Something about them felt wrong.

  “Did you see that?” Lethe asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Aren raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I saw them. What do you think they’re up to?”

  Lethe paused for a moment, then shrugged. "They’re shady, that’s for sure. I’m gonna follow them."

  Aren looked at him, lips curling into a grin. “Alright. I’ll be around if things get messy.” Without another word, he disappeared into the shadows, his presence vanishing as if he had never been there.

  Lethe’s gaze fixed on the cloaked figures as they moved deeper into the alley. He started following them from a distance, keeping his steps light and quiet. The men had a purpose in the way they walked, as though they were used to being unnoticed.

  But Lethe wasn’t just anyone.

  Three guys in a group... Lethe thought to himself as he analyzed the situation. Common assassin gear. Probably fighters or curse users. Sloppy movements, though... they’re not hard to defeat.

  Then another thought crossed his mind. He frowned. What kind of assassins attack in groups? That wasn’t normal. Assassins worked alone, slipping in and out of places unseen. Moving in a group like this? That wasn’t just sloppy—it was stupid.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Something wasn’t right.

  A few more turns, and they stopped. The tallest man of the group, who had been walking at the front, turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. His face remained expressionless, but Lethe could see the slight tilt of his head. He knew.

  They knew he was following them.

  Tch, Lethe thought, his fingers twitching instinctively. Trying to waste my time. Maybe even leading me into a trap.

  The tall man finally stopped, and the others turned with him, forming a loose triangle around Lethe. One of them drew a short blade, while the other cracked his knuckles. The tall man simply stood there, still expressionless.

  Lethe let out a small sigh. "Alright," he muttered to himself. "If they want a fight, they’re going to get one."

  In an instant, he dashed forward, his fist connecting with the first assassin’s gut. The man gasped, stumbling backward. Before he could recover, Lethe spun around and drove his elbow into the man’s temple. He dropped to the ground without a sound.

  The second man lunged at him, the blade flashing in the dim light. Lethe barely managed to tilt his head, the blade grazing the air just inches from his skin. He grabbed the assassin's wrist, twisting it sharply. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the alley. The man let out a choked scream before collapsing, unconscious.

  Two down.

  The tall assassin was still standing there, his eyes cold, an unreadable expression on his face.

  “Not bad,” the tall man said in a calm voice, his words almost sounding like a compliment. “But it’s a shame. You’re strong... but not strong enough.”

  Lethe didn’t reply. His stance didn’t change. He just waited.

  The assassin let out a deep sigh, stepping back slightly. Then, without warning, he turned and ran.

  Lethe cursed under his breath and sprinted after him.

  The chase was on. They darted through the winding streets, past startled civilians and darkened alleyways. The man was fast, but Lethe was faster. He gained ground with each stride, his body moving on instinct.

  He reached out, fingers brushing the man’s shoulder—almost there.

  Suddenly, a blinding light flared up in front of him. A sharp pain shot through Lethe’s body, and he stumbled, his legs buckling beneath him. Something was wrong. His body felt heavier, slower, like something was pulling him down from the inside.

  What the hell?

  The assassin turned, a faint glow surrounding his palm. The sigil burned bright for a moment before fading.

  A curse?

  Lethe gritted his teeth and forced himself to move, his legs trembling under the pressure of the curse trying to drag him down. His vision blurred for a second, but his target wasn’t stopping. The assassin's grin widened.

  “Still moving, huh?” he said, voice dripping with amusement.

  Lethe didn’t answer. He clenched his fists, willing himself to move. The assassin was reaching for something else, another spell perhaps, but Lethe was quicker.

  With one last push, Lethe’s fist collided with the assassin’s stomach, lifting him off the ground. The man gasped, his eyes wide in surprise. Before he could recover, Lethe’s knee slammed into his ribs, and there was a sickening crunch. The assassin fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

  But it wasn’t over yet.

  Lethe grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him slightly as he crouched down to meet his eyes.

  “Who sent you?” Lethe asked, voice cold and dangerous.

  The assassin coughed up blood, a weak chuckle escaping his lips. “Doesn’t matter,” he rasped, a smile flickering on his face despite the pain. “I already lost.”

  Lethe’s grip tightened, but before he could say anything else, the assassin’s body began to glow.

  What?

  Before Lethe could react, the body flickered and vanished, leaving only the faint trace of glowing energy.

  A soul contract.

  A cursed contract.

  Lethe took a step back, his breath coming in short bursts. This wasn’t just some random attack. Someone was behind all of this. Someone powerful enough to erase their own failures.

  Footsteps approached from behind, and Lethe turned, still tense.

  Aren stood at the edge of the alley, his expression unreadable.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked, eyes scanning the empty space where the body had been.

  Lethe didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His mind was already working, piecing the puzzle together.

  Someone was watching them. And whoever it was... They knew.

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