We slipped into the night like shadows, the weight of our mission pressing down on our shoulders. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke from distant hearths, the usual perfume of the slums. Tension clung to us, invisible but suffocating. Our faces were hidden behind masks, our identities erased—just ghosts passing through the alleys. If anyone saw our real faces, we wouldn't get a second chance. We'd be gone before we could even run.
I stole a glance at my crew. They looked ready, or at least I told myself they were. In the past five years, we had survived jobs far deadlier than this, had clawed our way through dangers that should have swallowed us whole.
We weren't the same helpless children who once cowered under Father Gideon's rule. We had bled, we had fought, and we had learned. This was just another job. Another step toward something better. We couldn't afford to fail.
The slums unfolded around us in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional distant murmur of the city that never truly slept. We moved through the labyrinth of alleys with practiced ease, our steps sure, our path memorized like the backs of our hands. Every turn, every hidden passage—we knew them all.
The weight of the moment settled over us like a second skin, tightening around our ribs with every step. The factory loomed ahead, a silent beast of stone and iron, its presence heavy in the cold night air. This place would either mark the beginning of something greater or carve our names into forgotten graves. There was no in-between.
By the time we reached the perimeter, the world had shrunk down to just the factory's thick walls and the iron fence standing between us and our prize. No civilians, no wandering eyes.
Count Veyra had hidden this place well, kept it disguised as nothing more than another factory churning out cheap labor. But someone had discovered his secret. And soon, we would take it for ourselves.
Two guards patrolled the grounds, their movements practiced but relaxed, unaware that this night could very well spell their doom—if everything went according to plan.
I met Talia's gaze, then Tobias's. No words needed to be spoken. This was the point of no return. We had come too far to hesitate.
With one final breath, we moved. The fence was high, but we scaled it with the ease of those who had done this a hundred times before. Our landing was soft, barely a whisper against the earth. The job had begun.
The night wrapped around us like a cloak, hiding our movements as we slipped through the factory grounds. Shadows stretched long beneath the pale glow of distant streetlamps, our footsteps barely a whisper against the dirt. Every breath was measured, every movement calculated.
We waited, patience coiling like a predator ready to strike. The guards followed their routine, converging at a single point. That was our moment. Without hesitation, we moved—silent, swift, deadly.
Talia lunged first, her body a blur of raw power, enhanced by the mana thrumming beneath her skin. She was on the left guard before he even realized he was in danger. The sound of impact was a dull thud, over before it had truly begun.
The right guard turned at the noise, suspicion flashing across his face just in time to meet me. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, muscles tensed, breath steady. I swung, throwing my weight into the punch, but the bastard was fast—faster than I expected. He twisted, dodging, already preparing to retaliate.
But he never got the chance.
A sickening crack split the night as Tobias's metal bat slammed against the side of the man's head. His body crumpled, dazed but still breathing. We didn't take risks. A few extra strikes for good measure, then rope around his wrists and ankles.
I turned, catching sight of Talia dusting off her hands, her opponent already unconscious at her feet. The first obstacle was clear. Now was the time for the real fun.
We searched the guards with swift, practiced hands, rummaging through their clothes, turning out their pockets, every second stretching too long. Then—something cold, metallic. My fingers closed around it.
"I got the key," I murmured, barely louder than a breath. No cheers, no hesitation. Just movement.
We slipped to the door, now left unguarded, the silence thick with anticipation. I slid the key into the lock. A soft click cut through the tension, and we pushed inside.
The room was empty. No time to process the unease crawling up my spine. This had to be fast—so fast nothing could go wrong.
"Find the basement. Now." My voice was low but firm, and we scattered like shadows, disappearing into different corners of the factory.
I wove through strange machines[1], their inner workings a mystery to me. The air smelled like metal and dust, the factory's quiet humming against my ears. I reached a row of offices, testing doors, searching every suspicious gap, every hidden latch—
Then—a noise.
I turned sharply. A figure stood in the dim light. A guard.
Shit.
He was just as surprised as I was, his muscles tensing, mind catching up to the sudden intrusion. But I moved first. Instinct took over—I lunged, closing the distance before he could react. My fist shot out, aiming for his nose, but he wasn't some sluggish slum dog. He swayed back, fluid, precise—trained.
His counter came fast. A sharp swing, aimed for my temple. I ducked, twisting under his arm, my fist snapping toward his side—a quick shot to the liver. He grunted, staggering slightly, but he didn't fold. Instead, he stepped back, hand darting to his belt.
He was reaching for his baton.
I couldn't let him get that far.
In one motion, I ripped my dagger from its sheath and lunged again, slicing at his reaching hand. The blade bit into flesh, and a sharp hiss of pain left his lips. He recoiled, but he wasn't finished.
I slashed again, aiming for his upper body, but he twisted away, moving just fast enough to avoid a deeper cut. His training was no joke. His movements calculated, disciplined.
Then—a noise of feet shuffling, a breath of warning.
A bang.
The guard's body slammed into a wall, then slumped to the floor.
Talia stood in the place of the guard, shaking her hand, her expression unreadable.
"Rowan, you good?" Her voice was steady, but her eyes searched me for injury. I exhaled, nodded.
"They found the entrance to the basement."
"Good. Take me there," I said, already crouching to bind the unconscious guard's wrists. The ropes dug tight against his skin—I made sure of it. No loose ends, no room for error.
Talia was already moving, and I fell in step beside her, our pace urgent, our shadows stretching long against the dimly lit walls. When we reached the others, they were gathered around a heavy wooden door, their faces tense.
"Stay sharp," I murmured. "I don't want any more surprises tonight."
I placed a hand on the worn wood, then pushed it open. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of damp stone and dust. I took the first step down, my boots clicking against the descending stone, the sound swallowed by the deep belly of the factory.
Then I saw it—an expansive basement, cluttered with crates, rusted tools, forgotten junk. Shadows stretched along the walls, flickering with the weak glow of a single lantern.
I scanned the space, my breath steady, my focus razor-sharp. This was the moment that mattered most. Then, in the far corner, half-hidden behind discarded debris, we spotted it—a large metal door.
I turned to Handy, meeting his gaze.
"Your turn."
Handy cracked his knuckles before rolling his shoulders, eyeing the heavy metal door with the quiet confidence of someone who had cracked harder locks in worse places.
"Aye, chef, no need to remind me," he said, already pulling out his tools. "I know how to do me job."
I exhaled slowly, stepping back. This was out of my hands now. Either he got us through, or we walked away empty.
As Handy got to work, the rest of us took the rare opportunity to catch our breath. The basement was cool, the air thick with dust and old metal, the scent of rust lingering in the silence.
Tobias, ever the reckless one, leaned against a stack of crates and smirked. "You know… this job's almost too easy. Just a couple of guards? We made a quick work of them."
Talia's head snapped toward him, eyes wide with alarm. "Don't jinx it, idiot."
For once, Tobias decided not to push his luck. He let out a dismissive "Whatever" and wandered over to Handy, peering over his shoulder with an amused glint in his eye.
"Hey Handy, need a hand?" he asked with a chuckle.
Handy didn't even look up. "Me one hand is good enough for slappin' you and unlockin' this door at the same time, y'wanna see?"
Tobias held up his hands in surrender, laughing under his breath. And then soft click "I got it chef."
I heard Handy say, pulling on the large door.
We were in.
[1] Machines that operate on mana to be clear, the technology is not advanced enough to create electrical machines and such.
Although mana machinery is still in its infancy, only recently has the kingdom put importance into its development.