"Baron Krothu." Bren bowed his head down with utmost reverence at the orc. "Thank the Divines you are here."

"Yes, Elder Bren." Krothu nods with a sad look. "I apologize if I just arrived. I only received word about the fire not too long ago when a courier notified me when I was asleep in the guild. As soon as I heard the commotion, I instantly rushed here as soon as I could to check up on the current state."

"It's alright, Baron Krothu, sir," Bren replies, a.s.suming the same look of grief. "It was out of our control. The thief proved to be quite elusive in his escape as he even possesses the audacity to burn a significant portion of the farm as a means for him to do it."

"Hmm, a bomb, huh." Krothu rubbed his chin with a grim expression.

Isamu raised his hand as he inquires about something to the orc. "Do you know what the thief has stolen from your manor, sir?"

"A weapon of G.o.dly tier," Krothu answered with a rather calm voice despite the content of the words that he has announced.

Indeed, both Isamu and Bren's eyes widen with extreme surprise upon hearing the orc's reply.

"A G-G.o.dly weaponry?" Isamu tried his best to contain the astonishment that he now felt at this very moment. "Why is a weapon of such divine nature inside your manor?"

"Malic's orders." The orc answered. Instead of feeling distressed, however, a smirk a.s.sumed on the orc's face. "And don't worry too much about it, though."

"What do you mean?" Isamu t.i.tled his head in confusion.

Krothu's smirk simply grew even wider.

***

u003cEleven days later at an unknown location.u003e

Inside a slightly dark area lighted by small candles that are fitted to a sconce on the walls, a young man, the same thief who escaped from the farmlands, is seen to be walking around casually in the small s.p.a.ce.

The man spotted what he is looking for as he walks further inside the place, a door with a watchman stationed as he is witnessed to be leaning against the wall.

The watchman standing on guard is a tall, middle-aged man with a scar on his blind right eye. He wears a set of leather armor with a hood, a bit similar to the one that the thief is wearing as well.

"Hmm, who's this then?" The watchman said as soon as he saw the younger man approaching him.

"It's just me, Grim." The thief spoke in a calm tone as he eyed the taller man without hesitation.

Grim

Lvl 28 u003ca.s.sa.s.sinu003e

Health: 1,571 / 1,571

Stamina: 3,690 / 3,690

Mana: 380 / 380

"Heh, Connor." The watchman who goes by the name of Grim, grinned mischievously. "Back from playing farmer, I see. I can only a.s.sume that you are successful with the task, right?"

"You a.s.sume correctly." The thief whose name actually is Connor crossed his arms with a stoic look. Then he proceeds immediately to his business as he asks. "Is the Mistress here?"

"Yup." Grim answers as he gave way to Connor. "Go on right in."

Connor merely nods in acknowledgment as he slowly opens the door.

Now inside, the area reveals to be some sort of office with bookshelves in every corner, containing most likely the sensitive doc.u.ments that are well-arranged.

As Connor set his gaze in front of him, he could not help but shook his head annoyingly at the messy sight that was presented in his very eyes.

Connor sighed as he thought. 'How troublesome.'

Indeed, the thief's irritation is justifiable as he saw a beautiful woman with long black hair pa.s.sed out with her head laying on her desk.

The woman is seen to be wearing a simple long-sleeved black dress with a belt strapped on her waist, being her casual attire.

Speaking of her desk, it was littered with empty bottles of ale and booze all over, a bedlam of a drunken mess that unquestionably causes her state of comical unconsciousness as she snores rather loudly for Connor's eardrums to shake.

Connor could not help but twitch in complete annoyance at the woman's current state of stupor. Even if he was used with the woman's antics, being in familiar terms with her, he still thought that it's rather unbecoming of someone like her who holds an extremely important position in their shadowy organization.

Approaching the desk, Connor shakes the woman in an attempt to bring her back to consciousness.

"Mistress, wake up," Connor said a bit loudly for the woman to hear.

"Mph, five more minutes, Grim." The woman uttered in her sleep as she s.h.i.+fts her head slightly away to the right.

"Mistress." Connor sighed in displeasure. No matter how many times he shook the woman off, she would never budge. He then released his hand from her as he palmed his forehead at this predicament.

'It appears I have no other choice.' Connor thought as he took a deep breath in preparation of the danger what he is about to do. 'This is going to be troublesome in my part.'

Sheathing a black dagger from its scabbard, Connor, with outstanding agility, proceeded to slash the woman in her sleep with murderous intent, his eyes gleaming cold like a true a.s.sa.s.sin.

Instead of the blade connecting to the woman's head, however, her hand suddenly reacted despite her state of unconsciousness as she blocked the incoming attack with a black dagger of her own with G.o.dly precision.

With the blades still in a fierce contact, Connor could not help but feel uneasy at seeing the woman opening her eyes slowly and now looking at him with an expression that promised absolute despair.

Connor immediately retreated a few steps out of fear, fully aware of the woman's exceptional abilities and skills that are unmatched by no one in their organization.

Connor gulps in apprehension as he eyed the woman known for her unparalleled skill in the shadowy arts, utilizing both blade and subterfuge with deadly efficiency as she strikes from the shadows like darkness itself has personified, the last thing that all victims witnessed before their utter demise.

Her real name is an enigma, obscured even among the group that she leads by secrecy.

As such, the people only refer to her by her t.i.tle, the word ushering fear into the heart of many as they spoke of the many dreaded tales of thievery and anarchy that circulate her and the organization that she leads.

Her t.i.tle? One simply calls her the Mistress of Shadows, leading the shadowy organization of thieves that is known as the Guild of Shadows.

Mistress of Shadows

Lvl (??) u003ca.s.sa.s.sinu003e

Health: (????) / (????)

Stamina: (????) / (????)

Mana: (????) / (????)

Connor, after a short while, manages to calm himself down as he voiced out his displeasure at the woman who is now gradually waking up and regaining full awareness. "Such a pain in the a.s.s. Does this have to happen every single time when someone wakes you up from being drunk? I pity Grim for having to put up with you every single day."

Rubbing her eyes, the sight of the woman slowly regains its clarity as she stares at Connor.

"Ah, Connor, you're back." The Mistress of Shadows yawns nonchalantly as if the act that was done earlier by the young man was of no big deal to her. She then leans her face against her arm resting on the desk with a bored look while twirling the dagger with her other hand like a true expert. "So, what brings you here?"

"The mission, remember?" Connor crossed his arms in annoyance as he could not believe how laid-back this woman is.

"Oh, right, that mission." The Mistress of Shadows said as she rubs her chin in thinking. "Wait… was was it again?"

"Are you serious?" Connor looked at her with an unimpressed expression as he sweatdrops.

"Oh, relax, I was just messing with you, hehe." The Mistress of Shadows chuckled playfully. "So, do you have the item then?"

Connor nods as he conjures the item mentioned from his Inventory and lays it at the desk.

The item reveals to be a sword, more specifically, a katana. Its blade glistens remarkably with the golden color, showcasing a quality unlike any other. The guard is also gold in color while the pommel is green with a small sculpture of a lion that serves as its pommel.

The Mistress of Shadows picks up the katana as she marvels at every detail of it.

"One of the very ancient blades that Paragon Neverath himself originally wields, Arondil." The woman smiles as she inspects the G.o.dly weapon of legends. "I'm impressed, Connor. Obtaining this weapon is quite taxing on your part, I can imagine."

"Yes, especially the trouble that I have run to in the end." Connor frowns as he crossed his arms. "Hopefully, the rewards will be worth it."

"Trouble, huh." The Mistress of Shadows eyed the young thief with interest. "I do enjoy hearing tales of thievery and adventure from a fellow brother of the shadows. Since we're not in a hurry in our transactions, would you be so kind as to regale your story as to how you possess this item?"

"Very well." Seeing no reason to reject his leader's request, Connor told her of his undertakings as a farmer at Chadena's farmlands and the moment eleven nights ago when he was caught on sight by the cat-folk, forcing his escape in a somewhat chaotic manner. While he was telling his story, The Mistress of Shadows opted to inspect the blade even further while listening.

"I see." The Mistress of Shadows nods in response. "You were forced to use a bomb. Oh well, not every time will a plan s.h.i.+ft into one's favor. I commend your efforts in stealing the blade, but there is one particular problem, however."

"A problem?" Connor questions as he does not like the sound of her tone in her last remark.

"This blade." The Mistress of Shadows' smile turns upside down as her eyes gleamed with utmost killer intent at the weapon she is holding.

"It's fake."