Chapter 3: Merchant Greycoat
Theron took deep breaths. Checking his Mana reserves, he realized he had no more than 10% left.
"It's enough."
The core of the compound lay below him, and a string of corpses lay behind him. Ahead should be the location of the target.
With light steps, Theron slipped ahead. Without the rain, he had to be more cautious with his movements. Any unnecessary sound could alert the enemy.
So, using his Water Mancy, he expelled all the rain from his cloak and clothing, carrying it all in a small orb that floated behind him—silent but deadly.
What Theron didn't expect was for the target to be sitting on a plush reclining chair, looking right at him with an amused smile on his face.
The target was known as Merchant Greycoat. He was a heavyset man, much like many others of his profession, but he lacked the bejeweled, blinged-out appearance to match. There wasn't a single speck of wealth on him that wasn't inlaid right into his green and gold robes.
"You assassins are all so amusing, coming here to die on your own. Don't you know how foolish you are?"
Merchant Greycoat slowly stood to his feet. There was a rush of wind, and green mist whirled around his body. The man was so relaxed that he was using his Wind Mancy to stand.