Chapter 653: Rise, Assassins!

"Perhaps the rest of the world truly believes... that the Underground Council is the most elite guild of assassins on earth." Luther reclined upon his broad, plush chair, a sneer gracing his lips. They were merely dealing with a pack of cutthroats; even commoners held such rogues in contempt, let alone those of their own elevated standing. "They will never comprehend why their attempts at assassination are nothing more than a farce in our presence."

He turned his gaze toward the Knight-Captain standing beside him and asked, "Would you care to know why?"

The Knight-Captain bowed low and murmured, "I dare not presume..."

"There is no harm in telling you now. The oldest brotherhood of assassins resides within our very sanctuary," Luther declared, his voice swelling with pride. "Whether it be the art of assassination or counter-assassination, everything else is but a facade shown to the world. This is the most covert unit within our shrine. These fools have incurred the wrath of Lord Saint Durant and provoked Lord Saint Hynes. This time, we shall let those worms of the Underground Council witness what a true assassin is!"

"What of the ancestral assassin Altair, or Ezio, the Eagle of Florence?" Luther scoffed. "In the presence of our shadow, they are naught but fledglings whose feathers have barely grown."

"I am certain it will be a splendid spectacle, milord," the Knight-Captain replied with a obsequious smile.

...

Within an utterly unremarkable tavern inside Cyan City, several figures seemed to melt into the shadows, conversing in hushed, low tones.

"Ah, that truly is a magnificent tale! Even having glimpsed only this much of it, I can feel its weight."

"Gaze upon it, but do not dwell too deeply. Men of our station might not see tomorrow's sun; it is best not to harbor too many idle dreams."

"If I manage to return alive, I must try that art of sword-riding."

"Haha! Perhaps." Haxin meticulously counted and packed his belongings, arranging his newly crafted throwing knives and hidden blades. With a sudden flick of his wrist, a bleak, cold glint of steel snapped into the dark night. "If I perish in that godforsaken place, remember to burn the end of the story for me, my friend."

"And for me as well!" another assassin added, letting out a helpless laugh.

In her private quarters, Irina swiftly changed into a suit of jet-black assassin's garb—an attire modeled after the Brotherhood. The black, swallow-tailed robe possessed a scholarly elegance, paired with form-fitting trousers and gaiters. She gently pulled her hood forward, concealing all but the delicate contours of the lower half of her face.

This was a war belonging solely to assassins, fought in the darkest, most forgotten corners of the world, known to almost none.

It was the shadow beneath the bright sunlight.

The nights in Cyan City were invariably serene. The nobility, in their refined sensibilities, disdained venturing out after dark, while for the common folk, the dead of night was the finest hour for cultivation—a precious time they refused to squander.

In White Dove Square, even the birds had returned to their nests. The silent plaza seemed to whisper of its past prosperity, the echoes of cheers and gasps of wonder still lingering vividly in the air.

Haxin retraced his steps into that pitch-black alleyway. It felt as though the shades of those two down-and-out assassins still lingered there from days gone by, their hearts once brimming with hope for the future.

Yet now, he stood solitary and alone. Haxin clasped his hands against his chest, offering a silent prayer: "Oh, brother... though I know full well this is a snare laid by those devils, I cannot restrain myself."

"Do you know? I finally understand the true creed of an assassin. If you wish to hear it, I think I would like to tell you everything..." he murmured at length. "Though I know not if you still draw breath... hold on, and whatever you do, do not die before I arrive..."

At this moment, the entire square seemed to transform into a realm of assassins.

Figures clad in cloaks of black or white, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods, began to assemble upon the grounds.

Haxin stepped out from the alleyway, merging into the square.

"Brothers!"

"Sisters!"

Irina’s gaze swept across the gathering. She knew that at this very hour, she must rally these shadows together.

"Fight alongside me! Show them the consequence of offending an assassin!"

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted." Haxin stepped forward. Perhaps in the eyes of others, he had become a rather accomplished assassin, yet the truth was far from it. He carried the deep-seated insecurity of his impoverished birth, along with the self-pity of one whose talents fell short. But as he walked onto this ground, his heart was entirely altered from what it had once been. "Beneath the hidden blade, all lives are equal!"

"The hour has come! If we stand united, we are the Brotherhood!"

"Perhaps we can forge an impossible piece of history!"

"Victory belongs to the Brotherhood!"

"Victory belongs to the assassins!"

Such voices suddenly reverberated through the quiet expanse of White Dove Square.

"All Brotherhood members, prepare to strike!"

A clear, sharp cry of an eagle pierced the early morning sky, accompanied by the roaring battle cries of the shadows.

"Mother, what is that?" Awakened by the commotion, young Joseph rubbed his eyes, flung open the window, and cried out in astonishment, "Eagles! So many eagles! They are flying toward Grey Eagle City!"

...

"You know how to arrange the trap, then?" A sliver of dawn broke along the pale eastern horizon.

At this moment, Luther was in his courtyard, leisurely sipping his morning tea.

"Lord Luther," an elder clad in sacerdotal robes spoke with deep reverence. "We have long since bribed the Lord of Grey Eagle City. That fellow is a wretched creature who craves nothing but wealth and status. Throughout the entire day, the city will maintain its highest-grade anti-aviation magic array. Even the 'Cat's Grace' spell used by mages to enhance their leaping abilities will be utterly useless here. If they wish to enter, they must pass through the main gates, where we have stationed ranks upon ranks of guards."

Luther, now dressed in magnificent, noble attire as if preparing to preside over a grand ceremony, asked, "The magical traps have been laid as well, I presume?"

"Yes, milord. They are of the absolute highest specification, guaranteed to elude even the spiritual detection of a grand mage."

"Furthermore, this time, we have deployed... the Mana-Nullifying Array," the red-robed High Priest added. "Once activated, the stealth incantations of those assassins will fail entirely!"

"Most importantly, whether they be warriors or spellcasters, their strength will be suppressed to its absolute nadir within this domain. Only our divine arts can be exerted to their full perfection here."

"The moment they show their faces, their deaths are assured!"

...

Simultaneously, the assassins stood with their backs to the golden, rising sun, perched upon the towering eastern walls of Grey Eagle City.

Several figures in snow-white cloaks stood tall against the sky.

They looked down upon the dense clusters of houses below, the white-walled, red-tiled buildings, and the bustling crowds of people.

Countless soldiers and Temple Knights patrolled the streets.

The entire city was enveloped in an invisible, immense shroud of magical energy.

Haxin could feel it now; it was exceedingly difficult to summon even a single thread of his internal energy, precisely as it had been during his last assassination attempt.

Yet in this moment, he felt neither panic nor disarray.

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

The memories within his mind echoed continuously.

"To understand that we are the architects of our own actions, and that we must bear their consequences, whether they bring us glory or end in tragedy."

The words of the past seemed to ring clear in his ears.

"To work in the dark, to serve the light."

"This is the maxim left by our ancestors, the creed passed down through the ages:"

"..."

"When other men blindly follow the truth, remember—nothing is true. When other men are bound by law or morality, remember—everything is permitted."

"Rise, assassins!"

At this very moment, there was no fear in their eyes, nor any hesitation or doubt.

They stood firm and unyielding, for they were assassins, and it was a title they bore with absolute pride.