Asher watched closely.
"You're not the mastermind," he said. "But you're closer than the last one."
He drew his sword slowly.
"This time," Asher said, stepping out of the shadows, "I'm not stopping at the tool."
The person froze.
Then turned around.
The person turned slowly.
He was a man in his late thirties, wearing layered robes reinforced with light armor plates. Thin soul conduits ran from his gloves into the frame behind him. His face was tense, but not shocked.
"So," the man said, "you found this one too."
Asher stopped a few steps away. "You knew someone would."
The man glanced at the construct, then back at Asher. "Not this fast."
Asher kept his sword low but ready. "Who are you working for?"
The man hesitated.
Asher didn't move. He didn't rush. The pressure alone was enough.
"…A collector," the man said finally. "That's all I know."
Asher frowned. "Not a name."
"He doesn't give one," the man replied. "We don't meet him. We just deliver."
