Devicro, Incrag Republic
The moment he had made the decision, that very moment, Ion was back.
Back to the merciless, cold blooded thing he had trained himself to be. And he relished the feeling. The rage and hatred. The unbounded, unkempt hunger that formed the core of his being. It all came rushing back to him. And he was once again the remorseless, deadly mystic assassin hunter he had always been.
The wind surfed gently, so that Ion’s cloak fluttered with ripples as he stood at the top of the building. His eyes were narrowed in the very same, predatory hungry manner as he gazed across at a smaller building rising next to his – his unwavering gaze was fixed upon a window of the third storey, two storeys below the roof of the building he now stood in.
His target was inside of that window, taking down a group of mobsters whom he had tracked and hunted down here. But the poor vigilante had no clue that he wasn’t the only person on a hunt here … there was a deadlier hunter in the game now, and he was blissfully oblivious to it.
The sound of breaking glass, crashing furniture, screams, and gunshots were heard loud and clear from the window, as the vigilante took down the mobsters with his fancy equipment. But none of his fancy equipment stood a chance against the real enemy he was going to face this night … who was waiting for the chance to pounce.
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