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  Ezio desded the worn stoeps of the Assassin’s Guild, his mind occupied with thoughts of the pce he had e to uand far too well. It had been some time since he had first been inducted into this shadowy anization, a world away from the Creed he had once devoted himself to. Ba his own world, the Creed had principles—rigid, unwavering codes that guided their every move. But here, in this Guild, those principles were absent, repced by an uling orality repced by endless greed and wicked. This pce was rotten, corrupt to its core.

  The hallways were dimly lit, shadows ging to the ers as if the very walls were hidis of their own. Ezio’s boots echoed softly as he walked, the sound boung off the cold stone. Despite the dark underbelly of this anization, he had adapted, as he always did. Survival required it. Still, every step through these halls reminded how different two seemingly same anizations could be.

  As he reached the main floor, his gaze swept over the familiar faces of the Guild members—eae a reminder of what this pce truly was. Ruthless. Self-serving. The kind of people who would stab you in the back as soon as you look away. Ahey all wore masks of camaraderie, ughing and sharing stories, pretending they weren’t all waiting for the perfeent to strike.

  Ezio moved through the room, nodding curtly to those who aowledged him. He had earned a reputation here—respected by some, feared by others. It didn’t matter to him. What mattered was staying oep ahead, always watg, alnning. In this world, trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

  As he approached the Guild’s entrance, a familiar figure blocked his path—dra, the so-called “queen” of this den of thieves and killers. dra was a charmer, always with a sly grin and a glint in her eye that suggested she knew more tha on. Ezio didn’t trust her, but he pyed the game, as he always did.

  dra, or as many called her, the Red Death, fshed Ezio a smile that was as much a on as the daggers hiddeh her cloak. “Ah, Ezio. It’s been a while since you’ve taken a tract. I was starting to worry about you.” Her voice was smooth, almost too smooth, dripping with a false sweethat set Ezio’s instincts on edge. She always had that way about her—pying the ed ally while hidirue iions behind a mask of charm.

  Ezio ined his head slightly, keeping his expressioral. “I appreciate the , dra,” he replied, his tone even. He wasn’t here to fall intames, but her could he afford to dismiss her entirely. She held sway over this Guild, and he had a mission here—Nero had sent him to spy on this den of thieves and killers, and if the opportunity arose, to repce her. It was a delicate bance, pying the part while also keeping his distance.

  “Worried you might’ve lost ye, perhaps?” dra teased, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if testing the waters of how far she could push him.

  Ezio offered a small, almost imperceptible smile, more out of politehan anything else. “The edge is still sharp. I just don’t waste it on every dull tract that es ay path.” He let the words hang in the air, knowing she’d catch the underlying message. He wasn’t one of her on thugs, eager to take any job that promised . His bde served a purpose—ohat aligned with a code, even if that code had been twisted by this pce.

  dra tilted her head, her smile never faltering, but Ezio could see the calg look behind her eyes. “True enough, Ezio. But the Guild thrives on a, not hesitation. We have to keep moving, keep striking, or we risk being targets ourselves.”

  Ezio’s gaze hardened slightly, though he kept his demeanor calm. “A strike made without thought is just a wild swing in the dark, dra. It’s better to make one precise cut than a hundred reckless ones.” He knew she would uand the analogy, but whether she’d heed the advice was another matter.

  She ughed softly, the sound almost musical. “And that’s why you’re so valuable to us, Ezio. Your precision, your patience. But don’t fet, patience turn into ina, and ina be fatal in our line of work.”

  Ezio met her gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. “Don’t worry about me, dra. I know when to act.” He let a moment of silence pass between them, each sizing the other up, as they often did in these exges. It was a dahey had perfected—a careful bance of words, her fully itting nor revealing too much.

  dra finally stepped aside, giving Ezio room to pass. “I’m sure you do, Ezio. Just remember, this Guild is like a beast—always hungry, always needing to be fed. You keep that bde of yours sharp, and you’ll never go hungry.”

  Ezio ined his head again, aowledging the thinly veiled warning. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Without another word, he moved past her.

  Ezio made his way to the bulletin board in the dimly lit hall. It struck him as oddly amusing, this primitive method of unication in a world so teologically advanced. No ss, no digital interfaces—just a simple wooden board pstered with paper tracts. In a way, it made seeology could be hacked, but this... this was old-school, almost medieval. The Guild needed secrecy, and this was one way to e.

  But as Ezio's eyes sed the tracts pio the board, any trausement faded, repced by a deep sense of revulsion. The names on those papers meant nothing to the people who posted them—just targets, obstacles to be removed. It didn’t matter if the targets were guilty or i, powerful or defenseless. Money was all that spoke here. The tracts were nothing more than transas, as soulless as buying fruit at the market.

  One name in particur caught his eye—a young woman, barely iwenties, accused of being a political dissident. The details were sparse, as they often were, but the pri her head was high, indig someone in power wanted her gone. Ezio’s stomach ed. She wasn’t a criminal, just another voice drowned out by the powerful. He could almost hear Nero’s voi his head, reminding him of the mission, of the y to stay undercover. But Ezio couldn’t just ig when it was a little ss that barely reached the age.

  With a heavy sigh, Ezio pulled the tract down, folding it into his pocket. He o py his role, but that didn’t mean he had to promise his principles. There were ways to hahis—ways that wouldn’t betray the Creed.

  His eyes tio drift over the other tracts. A rival businessman. A gover official. A widow fighting to keep her nd. Eaame and face was a reminder of the corruption that festered here. These weren't enemies of the people, they were simply invenieo those with power. Each tract sied him more tha.

  But despite the disgust gnawing at him, Ezio knew he couldn’t act recklessly. He couldn’t save everyone, couldn’t tear the Guild apart on his own. He had to be strategic, to bide his time. That was how he’d survive here—by pig his battles, choosing his moments.

  Ezio tore down another tract, this oargeting an old man accused of harb fugitives. He crushed the paper in his fist, resisting the urge to burn it right then and there. This pce... it would turn ao a monster if they let it.

  But he wouldn’t let it. Not now, not ever.

  He turned away from the board, his eyes catg dra’s gaze from across the room. She was watg him, as she always did, a faint smile pying on her lips. Ezio gave her a curt nod, hiding his disdain behind a mask of indifference. He knew she was waiting for him to crack, to show weakness. But he wouldn’t give her that satisfa.

  Not today.

  With the tracts hidden in his cloak, Ezio moved toward the exit. Even though Nero had sent Ezio with a mission to this corrupt anization, he was still guided by principles that defined him—a creed that was unyielding. He had ation in eliminating those who were truly corrupt, like the time he had taken down Harold Givens, the head of a child traffig ring, immediately after Nero released the tract. But that didn't mean he would kill anyone just because their name appeared on the board.

  The enter with dra had gone as he’d expected—a carefully crafted exge where her of them revealed their true iions. But Ezio khat he was different from the rest of the assassins here. He wasn’t just a bde for hire, eager to spill blood for the highest bidder. His targets had to deserve it, to embody the corruption that he had sworn to fight against. The Guild didn’t care about such distins, but Ezio did.

  He pushed open the heavy wooden door leading outside, the cold air of the night hitting his face. The chill was a wele trast to the stifling atmosphere ihe Guild. As he stepped into the darkness, he allowed himself a moment to breathe, to clear his mind.

  From the moment Ezio was summoned, he knew he was in a game much grahan anything he had known before. It wasn't just the advaeology—though even that had its limits in how much it could surprise him. After all, he'd seen the Apple of Eden, a reli a civilization far beyond his own in both teology and ambition. But this world was different, not just in its maes but in the raw power that seemed to pulse beh its surface. Gods walked the earth, aies far beyond them lurked in the shadows, maniputis in ways that made his previous life feel small in parison.

  As Ezio stepped into the night, the cold air sharpened his senses, cutting through the murk of the Guild’s corruption that still g to him. The city sprawled before him, alive with possibilities—both dangerous and promising. He adjusted his cloak, the familiar weight of his hidden bdes reassuring against his wrists, and began to walk.

  The streets here were far removed from the warmth of his native Florehis city, like all cities, had its underbelly, but it was alsnant with opportunity. Ezio’s sharp eyes sed the darkness, pig out the hidden movements of thieves, beggars, and meraries. They were all pyers in this grand game, eae a potential ally or enemy. Ezio had no illusions about where he stood among them.

  Ezio soon found the quaint café he had been searg for. It was tucked away in a quiet er of the city, far from the bustling streets and prying eyes. The sign above the door was weathered, the paint chipped and faded, but that art of its charm. It was the kind of pce where people came to disappear, to blend into the shadows ahe world move around them unnoticed.

  He pushed open the door, the small bell above tinkling softly as he ehe inside was dimly lit, the soft glow of nterns casting long shadows that danced across the wooden floor. The air was thick with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and aged leather, a st that reminded Ezio of aime, another pce.

  His eyes swept the room, noting the few patrons scattered around the small tables, each lost in their own world. It didn’t take him long to find the man he was looking for. In a shadowed er sat a figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat, his features obscured as if the light itself was afraid to approach him. The man’s posture was rexed, almost too rexed, and Ezio could feel the weight of his gaze, even though their eyes hadn’t met.

  Ezio moved quietly through the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the worn floorboards. He took the seat behind the man, their baow to each other, a small wooden divider between them. It was a setup designed for secrecy, for versations that weren’t meant to be overheard.

  Without turning, the man—known to Ezio only as Nigel—spoke, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the soft murmur of the café. “How is it?”

  Ezio leaned ba his chair, his gaze fixed on the wall ahead as he sidered his response. “Rotten,” he said finally, his toraying little emotion. “The Guild is a viper’s . dra keeps them in line, but only just. They’re more ied in gold and power than anything else.”

  Nigel chuckled softly, the sound devoid of humor. “Not surprising. That’s what happens when you lose sight of the Creed.”

  Ezio’s fingers drummed lightly on the arm of his chair. “She’s clever, though. Too clever. She senses something, knows I’m not just another bde for hire. I’ve kept my cover, but it’s only a matter of time before she starts probing deeper.”

  Nigel remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of Ezio’s words settle between them. Finally, he spoke again, his tone softer this time. “You’re still following the Creed, Ezio. That’s more than most in this world say.”

  Ezio’s lips pressed into a thin lihe Creed is what keeps me grounded. Without it, I’d be er than them.”

  Nigel’s hat tilted slightly, as if he was nodding. “Good. Hold onto that. Because if you lose it, she’ll have you. And there’s no ing back from that.”

  Ezio said nothing, his thoughts swirling as he stared into the shadows. He knew Nigel was right. This pce—this world—was a test, ohat stantly pushed him to his limits. But as long as he held onto the Creed, he could navigate the darkness without being ed by it.

  A soft rustle of fabridicated Nigel was shifting in his seat, preparing to leave. “I’ll pass your report to Nero,” he said quietly. “For now, keep pying the game. But remember—wheime es, don’t hesitate.”

  Ezio ined his head slightly, aowledging the unspoken and. “I won’t.”

  With that, Nigel rose from his seat, his presence fading into the background as if he had never been there at all. Ezio remained seated for a moment longer, his mind turning over the versation, weighing the choices that y ahead.

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