"No... No way you're doing that, and all on your own? Did you hit your head somewhere? Show me." Elira grabbed my wrist, trying to stop me from walking off toward what she called a suicide mission. To me, though, it wasn't suicide as she imagined; it was a challenge. I would sneak in like a silent assassin, like in a video game. Boom. Pow. Done. How hard could it be?

Alright, I knew how hard it could be. Every sound would matter. Every move had to be planned and measured. But I wasn't planning on dying today, not here, not in this miserable rain, and certainly not leaving Elira behind to shiver alone.

"I'll be fine," I said, shaking her hand off gently. "I have skills that'll let me move quickly and quietly. You, on the other hand, are more of a walking explosion. If I take you with me, that outpost will light up like a lighthouse." I rolled my eyes, the mud sucking at my feet.

"Like what?" Elira's tone carried suspicion more than curiosity. Right. I'm so stupid, they've got no lighthouses here. Not in this world...

"Nothing, forget it. The point is, you need to wait here and keep Beelzebub out of the rain. Can you do that for me?" I lifted my hand and offered her my fist.

She hesitated, eyes searching mine, then sighed. "Fine..." Her small fist bumped against mine, soft but reluctant. I could tell she hated this, but I wasn't going to drag her into another mess. Not again.

I handed her Beelzebub, who squeaked softly and burrowed into her arms. "Keep him warm," I whispered.

Elira's lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. She wasn't a child; she knew what this meant.

Then my eyes lifted toward the tall tower that cut through the mist. Its faint light flickered through the downpour, a steady pulse in the distance. My next destination.

The storm bent the grass and pulled at my cloak, whispering its disapproval, but I smiled anyway. "Alright then," I murmured to myself. "Let's see how good I really am."

The storm thickened as I climbed, swallowing the world in gray. Why do I hear boss music playing? Must have been a wind... Each breath felt heavy with the taste of wet metal, but my pulse steadied with every step closer to the outpost. I can do it... The rain drummed against my hood, masking my approach.

Ahead of me, the wooden towers loomed through the curtain of rain, lights flickering behind narrow slits. Two guards patrolled the wall walk, their shadows merging with the storm. I crouched low, counting their steps, the distance between turns, the pause before they switched positions. Old habits I developed working in the hospital helped in this situation: observe, calculate, act.

Now I just needed my silent weapon... {Surgeon's Scalpel}

The warmth spread through my fingers. A dull ache pulsed beneath my nails before thin streams of crimson pushed free, shaping into blades as sharp as glass. Each movement of my fingers left faint trails of red light, quickly devoured by the storm.

The tower's gate was half-submerged in a trench of water. Wow... Serious deal... To the side, a fallen tree bridged the outer ditch. I crawled across, my body hugging the slick wood, letting the wind carry away the sound of my naked feet. The tower was within reach.

I tried not to breathe, quietly scanning for any watching eyes. A guard leaned against the railing, head tilted down, chin almost touching his chest. His lantern swung weakly in the wind, creeaak... clink... creak... I timed his breathing and moved. One step, then another. My hand pressed over his mouth, and my nail slid through the hollow of his throat. His body twitched once, then went limp. The lantern light dimmed when I caught it before it fell.

One down.

I dragged his corpse behind a barrel and climbed higher. The wooden steps creaked, but the thunder swallowed the noise. Two more guards stood near the top, arguing over who would check the perimeter. I waited patiently for one of them to leave.

The younger one finally turned, muttering something about freezing to death. As he passed me on the stairs, my hand met his chest, the scalpel slicing upward, neat and clean. The second had just enough time to see me before my other hand found his jaw and silenced him with a crimson smile.

The tower was mine. But that was only half the work finished.

I stepped out into the open, wind clawing at my cloak, rain stinging my face. From up here, I could see the yard: two dogs lay in their cages, sleeping soundly. So much for security. I grinned. One guard near the gatehouse, and a dim orange glow from a window deeper inside, likely the captain's quarters.

I took a deep breath and leapt. My feet hit the mud with a soft splash. The nearest dog stirred but did not bark; the storm drowned its nose. I slipped behind the kennel and circled toward the gatehouse. The guard there hunched over a brazier, rubbing his hands. His sword leaned against the wall beside him.

I moved close enough to see the reflection of the flames in his eyes. Then I kicked the brazier. The coals burst into the mud, steam rising.

"What the hell?" He cursed, bending to fix it. That's when I struck in one clean slice across the back of his neck. His head dropped forward silently.

Blood mixed with rain, the color disappearing into the dirt.

Inside the gatehouse, the smell of oil and metal filled the air. Chains, spare weapons, and a small bell rope. I cut the rope first, tossing the bell into a puddle. Then I doused the oil lamp with my wet fingers. Darkness soon covered everything.

I need to hurry... I don't like this. The wind is dying, and the rain is fading too.

My eyes swept over the surroundings until they settled on the commander's room at the far end. The wooden door hung slightly open. Inside, a figure sat slumped over a table, half-asleep and half-drunk. Maps, wine, and a journal were scattered across the surface, his sword resting within easy reach.

I stepped closer, blade glinting faintly. He stirred, muttering under his breath. I froze, waiting for his head to drop again. When it did, I moved behind him and pressed my palm against his forehead. The scalpel entered at the base of the skull, sharp and precise. He didn't even have time to gasp.

His body went still, hand falling limp over the map. I rolled the parchment, tucking it into my belt, and wiped my blade on his sleeve.

The next part was simple.

One by one, I cleared the rest. A knife through the ribs of the cook asleep by the hearth. A slit throat in the armory where another guard cleaned his boots. A final shadow in the tower whose eyes widened too late.

By the time I was done, the rain was slowing, the storm thinning into a soft drizzle. The outpost stood silent, its torches flickering and dying one by one. I stood in the yard, soaked, breathing quietly. Not a sound but the soft tap of rain against wood.

A faint red glow lingered on my fingertips before fading back into flesh. I looked at the bodies, half-buried by the storm, and felt nothing but stillness. The kind that came after a successful operation.

I walked to the commander's quarters again, sat in his chair, and poured myself what remained of his wine. It was bitter, cheap, and tasted like victory.

What am I doing with my life? Killing like it means nothing. I sighed, a thin breath lost in the cold air, the weight in my chest sinking deeper. There was a loneliness to it all, one I couldn't explain with words, the kind that made everything feel hollow, even victory.

Or maybe a few things still mattered.

Through the cracked window, I caught sight of Elira's faint silhouette on the distant hill, a small figure cloaked in rain with a tiny hamster perched beside her. She waited for me patiently, just as she promised. Good girl. Though knowing her, she was probably cursing me under her breath too.

A quiet laugh escaped me. My lips curled into a smile before I even noticed.

I stood and wiped my hands dry, whispering, "Mission complete." A quiet pride stirred in my chest, knowing my promise had been fulfilled without a single mistake.

Then I left the outpost the way I came, feet sinking into the soft earth, rain washing the blood from my clothes. The hill greeted me in silence, and the wind no longer felt like resistance.

When I returned to the hollow, Elira was petting Beelzebub. Her eyes widened when she saw me: drenched, mud-streaked, but alive.

"So umm... Did you—?"

I nodded, sitting beside her. "It's done."

She stared at me for a long moment before whispering, "You're insane."

"Maybe," I said softly, leaning back against the cold rock. "But it worked."

Beelzebub crawled up my arm, sniffing at my sleeve, and then nestled on my shoulder again. His warmth felt like life returning to me.

"But you're amazing too, Beatrice." Her shoulder brushed against mine, a tired smile tugging at her lips.

The storm found its breath again, wind and rain rising around us. We barely had time to rest before it forced us onward, running toward the outpost to wait out the night. My strength was fading fast. The rush was gone, replaced by a heavy pull in my chest. My bravado was crumbling, and I knew if I stopped for even a moment, sleep would take me.

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