Unholy Player

"With this, the area is clear now," Adyr muttered as he carefully removed the energy crystal from the split skull and wiped it clean.

He had spent the last while luring and eliminating each patrolling guard, one by one.

Initially, he had considered slipping inside unnoticed, avoiding any disturbance that might draw attention. But his observations made it clear there was no need for that.

There was no organization within the group. The guards outside had no meaningful connection to those inside. No one seemed to care whether they lived or died. That kind of complacency only made it easier for a real predator to step in unnoticed.

After sending the final crystal to the Dawn Land, Adyr unfolded his wings.

The fortress had only one entrance: the main gate, which was currently sealed. He would need to make his own way in.

After a brief search, he spotted a dark, unlit window on the third floor. Once he had finished outside, he made his way toward it.

With a single leap, supported by a few silent wingbeats, he reached the window’s ledge. Retracting his wings, he peered inside.

The room was dark, but he could feel no presence. Unless someone inside was capable of masking themselves from his senses, the room was empty.

There was a small, embedded lock built into the upper frame of the window, like the kind found on old doors, recessed and barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

He retrieved a compact lockpick set from one of the STF uniform’s utility pockets, bundled alongside standard gear like a medical kit. With two thin wire tools, he carefully worked the mechanism. A soft click followed. Then, he wedged the tip of his throwing knife between the frame and the glass pane, prying the window open with a quiet, controlled motion.