Lindarion moved across the rooftop with all the grace of a seasoned assassin—well, more or less.
'I can do this… one at a time.'
His movements were fluid, blending into the darkness like a shadow. His black attire helped him vanish into the night.
'Knew this robe would come in handy.'
Slowly, he approached the camp, his steps nearly silent. His first target was conveniently… throwing up into a bush, a bottle of something strong still clutched in his shaky hand.
Short blond hair, watery blue eyes, and an overall pitiful state.
'Disgusting.'
[Shadow Step, Mana Thread Manipulation.]
Lindarion moved like a specter, slipping into the bush. Two thin golden threads materialized, wrapping around the man's neck and tightening.
"M-Mmgh—"
His voice barely escaped in a strangled whisper, eyes widening in shock.
Lindarion yanked him further into the bush, one hand clamping over his mouth, the other choking the life out of him.
'Sorry, wrong place, wrong time.'
