The Assassins' Headquarters – The Oracle’s Chamber

  The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of mana crystals. A servant, trembling slightly, approached the massive throne where the Oracle sat in meditation.

  He fell to his knees.

  "Mother... Lord Vilgas is calling. He demands an audience."

  The Oracle opened her violet eyes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

  "Put him through."

  The servant placed a large, jagged transmission crystal on the pedestal. It hummed to life, projecting the flickering, ghostly image of an Elf with sharp features and cold, calculating eyes.

  [Transmission Start]

  "I hope you have good news for me, Oracle," Lord Vilgas sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

  "I wish I did, Lord Vilgas," the Oracle replied smoothly, keeping her voice level. "But the target has proven to be... exceptionally problematic."

  "WHAT?" Vilgas slammed his fist on a table on his end. "I don't want excuses, you useless hag! I paid for a service. I want the job done. Period."

  The Oracle’s eyes narrowed. The shadows in the room seemed to lengthen.

  "Watch your tone." she warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Your target is not just a man. He is a calamity. He has returned from the dead more powerful than ever. He obliterated the Hell Docks and killed Galadion. He is beyond our standard parameters."

  Vilgas laughed—a cruel, high-pitched sound.

  "So? I killed him once. I watched the life leave his eyes myself. I don't care what he has done or who he has killed. I just want him dead again. If your clan cannot handle a single broken King, then you are nothing but trash."

  [Transmission End]

  The crystal went dark.

  The Oracle gripped the armrests of her throne until the stone cracked.

  CRACK.

  Her fury was a palpable weight in the room. The servant pressed his forehead to the floor, terrified.

  "Summon Safira and Lican," she commanded.

  (Some time later)

  Safira and Lican knelt before the Oracle. The atmosphere was tense. They expected punishment.

  "My children," the Oracle began, her voice surprisingly soft. "I owe you an apology."

  Both assassins looked up, shocked. The Oracle never apologized.

  "I was angry with you for your failure," she continued, standing up and pacing. "But I see now that I fell into Vilgas’s trap. I underestimated the target."

  She stopped in front of them.

  "This target... The King of Olympia... is a force of nature. He is willing to destroy everything and everyone to reclaim his throne. Fighting him is not an assassination; it is a war. And that is not our business."

  She looked them in the eye.

  "To protect the blood of this Clan, I am canceling the contract. We are abandoning the mission."

  The room went silent. The other assassins in the shadows murmured in disbelief.

  "This King is going to burn the world," the Oracle stated finality. "And we will not be the kindling for his fire. Safira, Lican... I am reallocating you. You are reinstated to active duty on other fronts. Do good work for Mother. You are dismissed."

  The Corridor

  Safira and Lican walked out of the heavy iron doors. The moment they were alone, the tension broke.

  Safira let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding.

  Lican, however, slammed his fist into the stone wall.

  BANG.

  "Brother?" Safira flinched. "What's wrong?"

  "She called us weak," Lican snarled, his eyes burning with wounded pride. "Did you hear her? 'He is too powerful.' 'We are abandoning the mission.' We are not weak, Safira! We have killed things far more dangerous than this King! We are the Elite!"

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  He pushed off the wall, pacing furiously.

  "I could have taken him. I know I could."

  Lican stormed off down the hallway, radiating anger.

  Safira watched him go. She leaned against the wall, a small, secret smile touching her lips.

  Thank the Gods, she thought, her heart soaring. We don't have to kill him anymore.

  She looked toward the high windows, gazing at the distant sky.

  Where are you now, Isaac?

  The Wastelands of Osireon – The Cave Entrance

  Isaac and Arian landed silently on a jagged ridge overlooking a massive cavern mouth. The air here smelled of sulfur and ancient, dark magic.

  "Okay... it's this way," Arian whispered, pointing a manicured finger. "We'll find him just ahead."

  Isaac sheathed his sword, scanning the shadows.

  "Are you sure this guy is reliable?"

  "Well," Arian smiled sweetly, though her eyes were cold, "if he isn't, I will cast his soul into my private prison in the Sub-Realm to burn for eternity. So, for his sake, I hope he is."

  They began to walk down the rocky path.

  "What is this object you want me to steal, anyway?" Isaac asked, keeping his voice low.

  "It is a pendant," Arian replied, her tone turning clipped. "It belongs to me. And my wretched sister stole it."

  "A pendant? You're risking a war between Entities for jewelry?" Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Why would she steal a trinket?"

  Arian stopped. She turned to him, her golden eyes flashing.

  "It is not a trinket. And we are close. Stop asking questions."

  She turned and kept walking. Isaac narrowed his eyes but followed.

  Suddenly, Isaac’s Sight flared. Two distinct energy signatures were approaching from around the bend. Servants of Orion.

  Arian was walking carelessly, her head held high.

  "Shit," Isaac hissed.

  He lunged.

  In a blur of motion, Isaac tackled the Supreme Entity against the rock wall. He pinned her body with his own and clamped his hand firmly over her mouth.

  "Mmph!" Arian’s eyes went wide with shock.

  "Quiet," Isaac whispered into her ear. "Patrol."

  Two robed figures walked past the bend, chanting softly, completely unaware of the God and the King hidden in the shadows mere feet away.

  Once they passed, Isaac relaxed his grip.

  "You have zero stealth instincts," he whispered, stepping back. "Is it hard for you to go anywhere without announcing your presence to the world?"

  Arian straightened her peasant dress, looking indignant.

  "I have never needed to hide, human. Usually, I just do this."

  She looked at the backs of the retreating guards. She snapped her fingers.

  SNAP.

  There was no sound of an attack. No explosion.

  Two pillars of concentrated holy light descended from the ceiling. The guards didn't even scream. They were instantly vaporized, turned to ash before their brains could register the heat.

  "And I remove the annoyances," Arian finished, smiling like she had just swatted a fly.

  Isaac stared at the piles of ash. He looked at Arian. His expression darkened.

  "Look," Isaac said, his voice low and dangerous. "I agreed to help you. But I have rules. No unnecessary deaths. I'm going in, grabbing the item, and getting out. Do you understand?"

  Arian looked at him, genuinely amused by his morality.

  "Okay... 'Oh Great King,'" she mocked with a theatrical bow. "But I find it very unlikely that we won't have to kill a few more. These zealots are such a pain in the ass."

  She walked past him, humming a tune. Isaac sighed, rubbing his temples, and followed.

  The Meeting

  They reached the hidden alcove near the main entrance. A hooded figure was pacing nervously in the shadows.

  Arian stepped into the light.

  "Thaddeus."

  The man jumped, nearly dropping his lantern. He squinted at the peasant woman.

  "L-Lady Arian? Is that really you? What are those... rags?"

  The air temperature spiked. Arian’s eyes began to glow.

  "Kneel before you speak to me, worm."

  Thaddeus turned pale. He threw himself to the ground, pressing his forehead into the dirt.

  "Yes, Mistress! Forgive me! I did not recognize your majesty!"

  Arian stepped forward and placed her boot on the back of his head, grinding his face into the gravel. Isaac watched, his jaw tightening.

  "Has the Ritual started?" she asked casually.

  "Yes... yes, my Lady!" Thaddeus muffled into the dirt. "The portal is open. But... we have a problem. Melina has arrived."

  Arian paused.

  "So, the little slut showed up after all."

  "Orion's daughter," Isaac realized. "Another Semi-Entity."

  "Exactly," Thaddeus whimpered. "She came through the portal and is personally overseeing the offerings."

  "Fine," Arian said, lifting her foot. "Did you bring the robes?"

  Thaddeus froze. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

  "No... Mistress," he whispered, his voice shaking with terror. "They... they were suspecting me. I feared for my life... if they found me with disguise robes, they would have executed me. I had to discard them."

  Arian’s face twisted into a mask of pure divine wrath.

  "WHAT?"

  Her voice wasn't loud, but it shook the cavern walls.

  "YOU FEARED FOR YOUR LIFE? YOUR LIFE?"

  Gold energy crackled around her hands.

  "HOW IS HE SUPPOSED TO INFILTRATE NOW WITHOUT THE VESTMENTS?"

  "Please, Mistress! Have mercy!" Thaddeus sobbed.

  "Mercy is for those who are useful!"

  Arian raised her hand. A blade of pure, blinding light formed in her palm, ready to decapitate the spy.

  GRAB.

  A hand clamped around Arian’s wrist. Hard.

  The blade of light flickered. Arian froze. She turned her head slowly to look at the hand, then up to the face of the man holding her.

  Isaac.

  "What do you think you are doing?" Arian whispered, her voice vibrating with power. "Mind your business... human."

  Her aura flared. The pressure in the cave skyrocketed, enough to crush a normal man's bones. Isaac’s Shadow-Weave Armor absorbed the brunt of it, but the ground beneath his feet cracked.

  "Do you think you can defeat me, Fallen King?" she hissed, her eyes becoming two suns. "I am not Galadion. Let me go. Now."

  Isaac didn't flinch. He didn't let go. He stared directly into the blinding light of her eyes.

  "I told you back there," Isaac said, his voice calm, cutting through her aura like a blade. "No. Unnecessary. Deaths."

  He tightened his grip on the Goddess's wrist.

  "If you kill him... I walk away. And you can get your pendant yourself."

  They stood locked in a stalemate. The Goddess of Light and the Fallen King. The air crackled with the tension of their colliding wills. Thaddeus scrambled backward, watching in absolute horror.

  Finally, the light in Arian’s eyes dimmed. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

  "Fine."

  The blade of light vanished.

  Isaac released her arm.

  Arian rubbed her wrist, looking at the spot where a mortal had dared to restrain her. She looked at Isaac, a strange mix of annoyance and arousal in her gaze.

  She turned to Thaddeus.

  "You got lucky, trash. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind."

  "Yes! Thank you! Thank you!"

  Thaddeus scrambled up and ran for his life, casting one last terrified, awe-struck look at Isaac before disappearing into the night.

  Isaac stepped toward the rocks, peering at the swirling vortex of the portal ahead.

  "We go in quietly," he said.

  Arian walked up beside him. She leaned in close to his ear.

  "You are very bold, Isaac," she whispered. "I like it."

  Isaac ignored her, focused on the mission.

  "Let's move."