Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 44: Evil Schemes

Chapter 44: Evil Schemes

At the mansion, the gates creaked open, guards saluting as he passed. Sylvara’s voice rang out, her small form darting across the courtyard. Sera trailed behind her with a shy smile.

"Kael! You’re back!" Sylvara called, waving a wooden bow. "Sera’s teaching me to shoot!"

Kael dismounted, ruffling Sylvara’s hair. "Good. Keep practicing. You’ll need to be strong." His tone was gentle, but his silver eyes held a distant fire.

Sera met his gaze, her expression soft. "You look... troubled," she said quietly.

Kael’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. "Just thinking. The world’s bigger than I remembered."

She nodded, understanding he meant more than what he said. Sylvara tugged at Kael’s mantle, oblivious to the weight in his words. "Come see my target! I hit it twice!"

Kael let her pull him along, his heart steadying. Revenge was his anchor, but moments like this were sparks of something new.

He leaned against a wooden fence, his Bloodthread Mantle swaying gently in the breeze. His silver eyes followed Sylvara and Sera, who stood twenty paces away, aiming at straw targets pinned to a tree.

Sylvara’s small hands fumbled with her wooden bow, her auburn hair bouncing as she giggled. "Watch this, Kael!" she called, loosing an arrow. It sailed wide, thudding into the grass, and she stomped her foot, her face scrunching comically. "Stupid bow!"

Sera stifled a laugh, adjusting Sylvara’s grip. "Keep your elbow up, Syl. Like this." She demonstrated, her own bow steady, her arrow striking the target’s edge.

Sylvara mimicked her, sticking out her tongue in concentration, and her next shot clipped the target’s corner. "Yay!" She squealed, hopping in place, and Kael’s lips curved into a rare smile, the weight of his thoughts lightening for a moment.

***

Hundreds of miles away, in the heart of Duskmoor, the main city of House Valcroft pulsed with shadowed life.

Moonveil Pavilion towered over the Duchy of Shadowfen’s bustling streets, its lacquered walls and jade-tiled roof gleaming under lantern light.

The restaurant’s top floor was a sanctuary of luxury—silk curtains, ebony tables, and crystal goblets catching the glow of moonstone chandeliers. Three figures sat in a private alcove, their voices low, and the air thick with conspiracy.

Torren Veyne leaned forward, his dark hair falling over his brow, his fingers tight around a goblet of spiced wine. His green tunic was pristine, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

Across from him, Dorian Valcroft leisurely reclined, his golden armor traded for a sleek black doublet, his smirk lazy but sharp. Evelyne Crowne, his Runebound Knight, stood at his side. Her sword was sheathed at her waist but the runes glowed faintly as her cold gaze fixed on Torren.

"You swore Kael wouldn’t walk out of that dungeon," Torren said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. His jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured, wary of Dorian’s identity. "He’s back, strutting around Wolfswood like nothing happened."

Dorian swirled his wine, the liquid catching the light. "I kept my word, Torren," he said, his tone bored but edged with irritation. "My men ensured he’d meet his end. That he’s breathing baffles me as much as it does you." His eyes flicked to Evelyne, who gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable.

Torren’s fingers twitched, his goblet trembling. He didn’t believe Dorian, not fully, but pressing a Valcroft in his territory was a dangerous game.

He set the goblet down, the clink sharp in the quiet. "What now?" he asked, his voice tight, desperation creeping in. "Father’s still at the border. This is our chance to dispose of Kael before he returns. He’s... too dangerous to be left roaming freely."

Dorian’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "It’s simple, really. If you’re really determined, contact Nightshade Valley." His voice was smooth, almost casual, but the words carried a venomous weight. "Pay their price, and they’ll send assassins—wave after wave—until one takes his head. They don’t fail. Not for the right price."

Evelyne’s runes pulsed faintly, her hand resting on her sword’s hilt. She said nothing, but her eyes flicked to Dorian in silent agreement.

Torren’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the table. His mind raced. Nightshade Valley was a league of assassins within the Aurelian Empire with branches in almost every kingdom. Their blades were as silent as shadows.

The cost would be steep no doubt, even to the extent of draining Wolfswood’s coffers, but Kael’s survival threatened his plans and his claim as heir. Dorian’s suggestion was tempting, too tempting, and the noble’s calm certainty gnawed at him.

Torren rubbed his thumb along the goblet’s rim, his lips pursed. "Nightshade’s... it’s extreme," he muttered, his voice wavering. "There’s got to be another way."

Dorian’s laugh was soft, but mocking. "Extreme? You want Kael gone forever, don’t you? He humiliated me in that dungeon, and he’s a thorn in your side. Don’t pretend you’re above it, Torren." He leaned forward, his smirk fading, his eyes hard. "Nightshade’s clean. Nothing will be traced back to you. Or are you too scared to act?"

Evelyne shifted, her runes flaring briefly, her voice low. "You should decide quickly, Veyne. Opportunities like this will hardly come by again." Her words were clipped, and her gaze piercing, as if measuring Torren’s resolve.

Torren’s brows furrowed in thought, his fingers digging into the table’s edge. Dorian’s words stung, pricking his pride, and the thought of Kael’s silver eyes which were always looking condescending, always challenging his authority—fueled his resolve.

He took a slow breath, his voice steadying. "Fine. Nightshade Valley it is. How do I reach them?"

Dorian’s smirk returned, satisfied with Torren’s answer. He slid a small, black-sealed scroll across the table. Its surface was etched with a faint viper image.

"Give this to a shadow broker in Duskmoor’s undercity. He’ll handle the rest. You pay the coin up front, and then half on completion." He sipped his wine, his tone light again. "Don’t worry... Kael won’t see it coming."

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