The moment the air shifted, Ryouma moved.
His sandals barely touched the packed earth of the training grounds as he sprinted toward the palace's inner halls, katana whispering from its sheath. His amber eyes cut through the dark, following the faintest traces an unnatural ripple in the stillness, the lingering scent of steel and ink.
He slipped through the silent corridors, past rows of lanterns swaying in the night air. Every sense screamed of intruders. And then—there. A fleeting shadow darted across the roofline.
Ryouma leapt. His blade glinted as he landed on the tiles. Before him, six figures flowed like water, black cloaks snapping in the wind. Their movements were impossibly smooth, each jump perfectly measured, each landing soundless.
"The Wausau…" Ryouma's breath burned cold in his chest.
He charged, muscles coiling. The distance between them narrowed, the rhythm of pursuit pounding in his veins. For a heartbeat, one of the cloaked figures—the one with jade-green eyes—turned their head back at him. Their eyes locked. Calm. Cold. Beautiful.
And then—gone.
Like mist in the morning sun, the shadows dispersed, melting into the night. No broken tile. No lingering presence. No sound. Like they were never there.
Ryouma stopped, chest rising and falling. His katana remained steady at his side, though his pulse thundered. He had faced generals, swordsmen, and beasts. But never anything like this.
"They walk as ghosts," he murmured.
-------
Morning Uproar
By dawn, the palace was chaos.
Servants whispered fearfully in corners. Guards barked orders, combing through courtyards, overturning storage rooms, shaking their heads in shame. The Hall of Painted Dragons was stripped bare—its imperial seals violated, the scroll gone.
In the council chamber, voices clashed like swords.
"This is a disgrace! How could intruders penetrate the very heart of Shenzhou?" one official roared, his face red.
"They moved like shadows," another guard stammered. "Our men… they were not slain, only struck down unconscious. Their pride will suffer more than their bodies."
An elder slammed his staff against the floor. "Do you not see? Only one name matches such phantom skills. Across the Seven Nations, they are feared. The Wausau."
At that name, silence rippled through the chamber. Fear even when they weren't here anymore they had instilled great fear.
Murmurs broke out immediately after.
"They belong to no banner, no king. They cant be bought."
"Mercenaries, assassins, demons in human skin."
"They will plunge us all into ruin if unchecked!"
A younger official raised trembling hands. "Then let us do what must be done. Spread their names. Wanted posters. Offer gold, land, titles—anything! Let the whole of esteria turn against them!"
The chamber erupted again, but Ryouma said nothing. Standing at the edge of the gathering, he stared at the faint scar on the palace wall, probably left by the Wausau. His amber eyes burned with unspoken resolve.
He had seen them. He had felt their presence.
And though the others called the Wausau monsters, assassins, ghosts—Ryouma knew one truth:
They were human.
And humans could bleed.
The chamber grew loud again, voices competing with each other.
"Wanted posters across all seven nations!" An official cried.
"Yes, yes! Let the people hunt these assassins down!" another agreed.
"We'll draw their faces—"
"No."
The single word cut through the noise like steel.
All eyes turned to Ryouma.
"You can not hunt a shadow," he said calmly, amber eyes steady. "How do you draw the faces of people no one has seen?"
The chamber fell into uneasy silence.
"That is true…" one of the generals admitted, frowning. "These men are unknown. How do we catch what has no name, no face?"
Ryouma's gaze drifted briefly, remembering the fleeting moment on the rooftops. The way one of them had turned back at him, eyes locking with his.
Not cold like a man's. Not blunt with fury or pride.
But sharp. Calculated.
Beautiful.
He almost spoke then. Almost told them the truth that had burned itself into his memory.
Not men.
But he swallowed the words. Who among them would believe it? That the most feared warriors in all esteria… were women?
That would shatter their pride more,
Ryouma's hand tightened on his katana. His silence was his answer.
He was not under any obligation to correct them. After all, it was still a theory itself.
The hall dissolved into chaos once more, officials bickering like crows.
"Double the guards at every gate!"
"No, triple them—"
"Summon every bounty hunter from Drachenwald!"
Ryouma rose without a word, his crimson robe trailing behind him as he left the chamber. The sound of their squabbling faded into nothing.
Kealen was waiting just beyond the doors, his broad frame leaning casually against a pillar. His gray eyes flicked to Ryouma. "Leaving them to argue themselves to death?"
Ryouma didn't slow his steps. "Words won't catch the Wausau."
Kealen fell into stride beside him, silent for a time before speaking. "You're unsettled. What is it?"
Ryouma's amber gaze hardened, fixed on the stone corridor ahead. He hesitated just a breath—before answering.
"The Wausau…" His voice was low, measured. "They might not be men."
Kealen arched a brow. "Not men? What makes you say that?"
Ryouma's hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, his memory sharp as steel. "Last night, when I felt the shift in the air, I followed. I nearly caught one of them. Just for a moment." His tone deepened, thoughtful. "But when she turned, I saw eyes. Jade-green. Shaped not like a man's. Refined. Beautiful. Calculated and calm"
He exhaled softly, almost frustrated. "It was only a heartbeat, and then she was gone. I can't prove it. No one would believe me."
Kealen studied him, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. "So the most feared assassins in all esteria… might be women?"
Ryouma's gaze flicked to him, sharp as a blade. "Do not mistake them for anything less because of that."
Kealen's grin widened, but there was no mockery in it only respect. "I wouldn't dare."
They couldn't afford to underestimate them just because they might be women.