The night was unusually quiet.
Raven Xian crouched atop a massive tree branch, his breath slow and measured. His black spirit-threaded cloak melted into the darkness, making him nearly invisible. Below, in the clearing, three figures moved cautiously—mercenaries hired by Elias.
He recognized the emblem on their leather armor: a black reaver tattoo over the heart.
The Black Reavers.
Assassins. Elite hunters. Killers of cultivators.
His first true test.
Lyra's voice echoed in his mind:
"Trust your instincts. Feel the flow. Strike when they least expect it."
He narrowed his eyes, focusing. Threads of golden energy connected everything—trees, stones, the men below.
Their auras were jagged, violent. Bloodthirsty.
They thought they were the predators.
They were wrong.
---
The Hunt Begins
The largest of the three mercenaries, a burly man with a scar across his face, sniffed the air.
"He's close," the man growled. "I can feel it."
The others fanned out, blades drawn.
Raven waited, patient as the stars.
The moment one of them strayed too far from the others, Raven moved.
Silent as a ghost, he dropped behind the man, grabbed him by the mouth, and drove his dagger deep into the soft flesh beneath the ribcage—upward, into the heart.
The man shuddered once, then collapsed without a sound.
Raven caught the body before it hit the ground, lowering it gently into the grass.
One.
The others noticed too late.
"Alaric?" the scar-faced man hissed, spinning.
Raven was already gone, a shadow among shadows.
Panic set in.
They clumped together, back to back.
A mistake.
Raven circled them, letting the fear build.
He could smell it—their growing terror.
When one foolishly stepped forward to call into the trees, Raven struck.
A flash of silver.
The man's throat opened in a crimson smile, and he crumpled.
The last mercenary—the scar-faced leader—roared in rage and charged blindly into the trees.
Exactly what Raven wanted.
He led the man in a wide arc around the clearing, weaving through the forest like a ghost. The man grew tired, angry, careless.
Then Raven dropped in front of him.
The man's eyes widened in shock, but he swung his sword in a brutal arc.
Raven ducked under the swing and punched the man's exposed ribs—ribs that cracked with a sickening crunch.
The mercenary staggered.
Before he could recover, Raven slipped behind him and drove his dagger into the base of the skull.
The body went limp instantly.
Raven exhaled slowly, wiping the blade clean on the man's cloak.
Three down.
He had drawn his first real blood.
Not in rage.
Not in desperation.
In cold, calculated silence.
The Path of Shadows was becoming a part of him.
---
Aftermath
Raven dragged the bodies into a ravine and covered them with rocks and leaves. No need to leave evidence for the next group.
As he finished, Lyra stepped from the trees, her expression unreadable.
"You're improving," she said.
He wiped sweat from his brow. "They were sloppy."
She arched an eyebrow. "No, they were professional killers. You're just better."
He paused at that, the compliment sinking deep into the parts of him still scarred from betrayal and doubt.
"You have talent for the kill," Lyra continued. "It's in your blood."
Raven didn't respond immediately. The taste of victory was bitter on his tongue. He didn't revel in death.
But he accepted it.
It was a necessity in this world.
And soon, the ones he truly sought would fall just like these mercenaries.
Elias.
Selene.
All of them.
---
Later That Night
Raven sat by the fire, sharpening his blade, the rhythmic scrape of stone against metal soothing in the stillness.
Lyra watched him from across the flames.
"You should know," she said finally, "this was just the beginning."
He glanced up.
"The Black Reavers don't stop after one failure. They'll send more. Stronger. Smarter."
He nodded, unsurprised. "Good."
Lyra tilted her head. "You're not afraid."
"Fear doesn't change anything," he said simply. "Preparation does."
She smiled, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.
"You're learning faster than I thought."
He returned to sharpening the blade.
"Because I have no choice," he said quietly.
Every day wasted was a day Elias tightened his grip on the city Raven had once protected.
Every delay gave Selene more time to spin lies.
The world moved fast.
He had to move faster.
---
Meanwhile — The Fortress
In the heart of the city, Elias stood before a grand map sprawled across a marble table, fingers tracing the paths of patrols and assassins he had dispatched.
The report he had just received made his blood boil.
Three dead.
No sign of the target.
Only faint traces of battle, and a missing team.
Selene stood to the side, nervously wringing her hands.
Elias turned slowly, his eyes burning with fury.
"You assured me he was broken," he said, voice dangerously calm.
"He was!" Selene insisted. "No one survives a Heart Shatter Blade!"
Elias slammed his fist into the table, cracking the marble.
"He's not just surviving. He's thriving."
He pointed to the map.
"He's moving. Hunting. Growing stronger."
Selene shivered under his gaze.
"What do we do?" she whispered.
Elias's lips twisted into a cruel smile.
"We don't kill him yet," he said. "We bleed him first."
He turned to a robed figure lurking in the shadows.
"Release the Soul Hunters," he commanded.
The figure bowed low. "As you wish, Lord Elias."
Selene paled visibly.
The Soul Hunters were infamous even among assassins. They didn't just kill.
They destroyed mind, body, and soul.
Even the strongest cultivators feared them.
Elias's smile widened.
"Let's see how long the lost dog can survive," he whispered.
---
Back in the Forest
The stars shone cold and bright above as Raven stood on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the misty valleys below.
He could feel it.
The world stirring.
More threats gathering.
More bloodshed coming.
He tightened his grip on the sword at his side.
For the first time in a long time, he felt truly alive.
No more chains of false loyalty.
No more cages of guilt and expectation.
He was free.
And he would carve his own path—with blood and iron if he must.
Lyra joined him, her presence a calm anchor in the chaos.
"Storm's coming," she said.
"I know," he replied, voice steady.
He lifted his gaze to the horizon, where the faint glow of distant cities marred the night sky.
"I'll meet it head-on," he said.
He had bled for this world.
Now, it would bleed for him.
---
[End of Chapter 4]