Isekai Assassin: Volume 1 Read online

  Just before I grabbed the handle, I stopped and considered grabbing the knives I’d thrown. No, I don’t have time. I need to reach my safehouse. I’ve got a second stash of gear.

  I still had my short sword if I needed it. With a subtle pull of the door, I peered outside to check my surroundings and then was out and into the night.

  The city streets were quiet, but it was nearing three in the morning, and most of the residents would be fast asleep.

  Rough cobblestone roads and a rich mixture of buildings met me as I walked. Wooden houses and businesses were next to stone churches and red brick manses, all squished together to make the most of the available space.

  I didn’t like being on the open street: too many corners and shadows. I couldn’t keep glancing at every shadow that stretched in the thumbnail moon. But it was the quickest route to my safehouse, and more importantly, it was out of character for me.

  Elizabeth especially knew what I was likely to do and would try to counter it. So, if she really was hunting me, disregarding my regular routines would only work in my favor.

  But there wasn’t much I could do considering Lord Graham had likely told them where I’d be, spinning a tale that painted a whole different story than the truth.

  I was cautious as I walked, but it only took a few minutes for an itch to form on the back of my neck.

  It was an itch born of two decades of paranoia, and it told me I was being watched. I couldn’t tell from where, nor could I just stop and look around to try and find their position. There were too many buildings and too many shadows for me to try and simply guess.

  If I was wrong, they’d bolt, and I’d lose them.

  Better to know roughly where they’re at. But I need to get off the main street.

  If I was already marked, then I didn’t have time to go to my safehouse. It was across the city. I’d have to grab one of my stashes and make do.

  A side alley came up past a few shops and a tavern that doubled as a brothel. My closest stash was about five minutes away. I just had to get to it.

  Raucous laughter bubbled from under the door of the Wicked Ale, along with the soft vocals of a woman sharing stage with a lute as I approached. My eyes naturally followed the movement in the window as I passed by. The warm candlelight shone in my eyes and was just bright enough to ruin my night vision.

  I looked away and blinked, clearing my sight as I tried to readjust to the dim moonlight.

  There was a scuffle above me and to the right. A sound I was well familiar with—the scraping of leather on a roof tile.

  Shit!

  My instincts screamed at me, and I dropped.

  Air whistled above me as I fell flat on my stomach. There was a slight thunk as an arrow buried itself where my chest had been moments before. Splinters of wood littered the ground as I stood up.

  There was only a handful of seconds until the archer nocked another arrow, and I had to move fast.

  I bolted to the right, trying to break the line of sight so my assailant had to waste precious seconds readjusting. I crouched under the hanging eaves of a butcher shop. The darkened windows spoke of a store long closed for the day, and the thick wooden sill looked sturdy enough to climb.

  My toes gripped the window ledge as I pushed off and clambered over the ledge. The slate tile clinked as I hauled myself over and immediately lowered into a roll.

  Another arrow cracked against the tile as it landed next to me.

  I had to get closer, but the archer had me at a disadvantage.

  To my left was the brick chimney of the tavern one roof over. It was the only cover on the nearby rooftops.

  The problem was getting to it while under fire.

  Blood pounded in my ears as sweat beaded on my forehead and the pulse of battle roared in my veins. I rushed forward and dove for the chimney as another arrow glanced off the brick and sent chips scraping against my cheeks.

  Warm blood trickled over my lips, and the salty tang of iron filled my mouth.

  Damn, they’re good.

  A second and a half for the archer to fire, nock another arrow, and fire again. They were very good, indeed.

  And I could guess who it was.

  If I was right, it meant Zaphkiel had been telling the truth.

  “That you, Liz?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my brow.

  Soft footsteps moved to the right, trying to get a better angle—a better line of sight.

  “Evening, Elias,” she replied, a smirk in her voice. “Fancy meeting you here of all places. Why don’t you come on out? I’ll make it quick. I promise.”

  “Now that I believe.” I let out a harsh laugh. “Quick and dirty always was your style.”

  My muscles tensed as I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet—just a little closer. I had one chance. Either I’d be successful, or she’d turn me into a pincushion.

  Retreat wasn’t an option. By the time I landed on the street, she’d be on me, and I doubted she’d miss a fourth time at that distance.

  She laughed, a callous, biting laugh that held too much cruelty in it. “You’re still holding that against me? Come now, Elias. Don’t be petulant.”

  Just a bit more. A few more steps.

  I slid my shortsword from its sheath and pulled it close to my body, just over my heart. I knew she’d be waiting for me to make my move just as I was waiting for hers, but the only difference being that I had more options available to me than she did.

  She had one immediate option available to her, and I was prepared for it.

  Elizabeth stepped once again, and I sprinted from around the chimney.

  Even in the dim moonlight, or maybe because of it, she was radiant. Long, wavy, midnight hair fell past a thin, cute face and down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a sapphire blue, almost the same color as mine, but a shade lighter.

  She wore nearly an identical outfit as me: mottled black and gray clothes under reinforced leather armor that allowed her free range of movement.

  The only difference about her since I’d seen her last was that her hair was a little longer, the hair that gave Black Elizabeth her name. A moniker she’d earned by wrapping a single strand of hair around her victim’s wrists.

  Her blue eyes widened as I approached her, sword raised. She tracked my movements and fired.

  There’s a certain calculation to fighting an archer, especially in close quarters. Her arrow’s trajectory was immutable as soon as it left its rest. Which meant all I had to do was follow where her arrowhead was pointed and account for it.

  It was an incredibly risky move, a gamble, but I gambled with my life often. Every time I took a job.

  I knew she’d try for a heart shot, so I’d prepared in advance. I shifted the flat of my sword and used it to intercept her arrow.

  It pinged off the steel of my blade, carving a thin groove across the fuller. I pushed my sword away as it struck and deflected the arrow.

  Right into my shoulder.

  A burning pain exploded down my left arm as the jagged head punched through my leather and buried itself into my flesh.

  I fought down the agony and barreled into Elizabeth. The suddenness of my attack surprised her. Her bow came up to block me. I slashed downward with my blade, severing her bowstring and cracking the polished horn her black bow was made from.

  She’d been prepared to defend her person, but not her weapon, and left it vulnerable. A mistake considering her bow was the primary source of danger from her.

  Without it, she was a much weaker threat. Don’t get carried away. You did just let her put an arrow in your shoulder. Elizabeth was always dangerous, but she was an archer. Despite my teachings, her hand-to-hand was slipshod at best.

  She seethed, rage clouding her features as she tossed her bow down. It skidded across the tile and then careened over the edge to the street below. It clattered to the stone and sent a loud echo through the empty streets. As my eyes naturally flicked to the bow, she struck with a roundhouse kick aimed for my
ribs.

  I shuffled back as her foot missed me by inches. Before I could correct myself, I hit the chimney. My sword slipped from my hand as the back of my head cracked against the brick.

  Elizabeth lowered and pulled a small dagger from her belt. She lunged at me as I pushed off. Her knife sailed toward me. I blocked her arm at the bicep, stopping her knife centimeters from my chest.

  My left hand slithered over and under her arm as I brought her closer to me, stopping her from moving. I slammed my right elbow across her chin. Her head jerked to the side with a crack. Before she could react, I brought my elbow back again, shattering her small nose.

  Blood poured as the cartilage burst like a dam and stained her teeth crimson as she cried out in pain.

  Elizabeth bared her teeth in a bloody grimace as she railed against my hold. I rolled my left shoulder forward sharply, pulling her arm out of socket. She groaned, drowning out the sickening pop of her arm dislocating.

  She dropped the knife she’d held in her hand. It bounced off the roof tile and across my boot as I brought my knee up and into her sternum.

  All the air rushed out of her lungs as she doubled over. Her body went limp as she sank to her knees.

  I kicked her across the face. Elizabeth landed on her back and curled in herself, her once gorgeous features a mess of blood and broken teeth.

  Before she could get up, I knelt, snagging her discarded knife. I rushed over to her and pressed my knee to her sternum, and the blade of her knife went to her face.

  “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Liz.”

  “As am I.” She coughed and wheezed, shifting her body. “I never stopped loving you, y’know,” she said, spluttering as blood pooled around her lips.

  She was subtle about it, trying to disguise the slight motions her hand made as she tried to go for the knife in her boot.

  “You wouldn’t’ve taken the contract if that was true.” I lowered the blade to her neck, slicing into her skin. “Goodbye.”

  With the barest hint of pressure, Elizabeth’s throat opened. A thick, clean gash that sprayed arterial blood across my face and mouth.

  She gurgled, struggling as she died. Slashing her throat was quick, and for all of our history, I didn’t want her to suffer. I brought the knife over her heart and shoved it to the hilt in a single clean motion. I twisted as I pulled the blade free, giving her the kindest death I could.

  A heaviness settled over my shoulders, and my stomach roiled. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced since my first kill.

  Regret.

  I leaned over and closed her glazed eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  A sharp whistle came from my left. Once again, my instincts screamed at me to move, but I was in an awkward position, and my heel caught on Elizabeth’s leg. Agony erupted from my back as an intense pressure slammed into me.

  My breath caught, and I was slow to turn as I faced my newest attacker.

  They stood on the rooftop on the opposite side of the street. He wore a hooded cloak covering his features, but I recognized his posture and the recurve bow in their hands.

  “Marcel!”

  He laughed and threw back his hood. A bald, ochre-skinned face stared back at me. Thin, hard lines framed his cheek and jawline.

  Marcel grinned wide. “Shame about Elizabeth, but she came through in the end! Made you stay still long enough to line up a shot. Don’t worry. As a professional courtesy, I’ll give her a nice funeral. You as well,” he said as he nocked another arrow.

  He whistled sharply.

  From the darkness, a dozen hooded men appeared. All of them were armed with bows. On his command, they drew back as he smiled at me.

  “Sorry, friend,” Marcel said and fired.

  I jumped back, but I was slow from the pain. An arrow struck my side, stopping only when it hit a rib, while another took me in the chest.

  Arrows landed around me. One sliced at my leg as I stumbled back. My foot hit open air, and I fell from the roof.

  I stared at the rapidly fading form of Marcel just as I tipped over the edge, and despite everything, I smiled wide through bloody teeth.

  As soon as Zaphkiel said their names, I knew that I couldn’t win against them both. But deep down, I’d relished the chance to try.

  Maybe I am arrogant?

  I hung in the open air for a split second before I slammed into the ground and an ocean of misery collided into me.

  Bones snapped, sending wave after wave of pain through me. It was too much at once, and I almost blacked out. Only years of training saved me from slipping unconscious.

  Warm blood pooled beneath me, and I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t work properly.

  It was only a matter of time before Marcel and his thugs came calling to finish the job, and in this sorry state, it’d be all too easy for him.

  I was broken, weaponless, and I couldn’t even stand without a mountain of pain overwhelming me.

  But I could speak.

  “Zaphkiel,” I croaked.

  There was a rush of air, and a grinning face peered down at me.

  “Looks like you ran into some trouble. Unfortunate. But today’s your lucky day. How about you take me up on my offer, whaddya say?”

  My options had been stolen from me. He’d said I had fourteen hours, but I hadn’t even lasted one after he told me my fate. Whether he was lying to me or not, I was dead if I didn’t take his deal.

  “Fine. Damn you, I accept.”

  He grinned wide. “Excellent choice.”

  A wave of vertigo made my head spin as my vision swam, and then there was nothing but darkness.

  Chapter 3- In Another World

  The dizziness faded after a second. My vision swam with spots, and I tried to blink them clear to no avail. My head pounded like it was being used for sword practice.

  What the hell is wrong with me? What happened?

  The fight with Elizabeth and Marcel came back to me as I sat up.

  That’s right. I fell off the roof.

  My hands went to my chest as I began a mental check of my state of being. My body is fine. There’s nothing broken. The only pain is the headache, and I’m a little parched. My hands aren’t bound, and I can move my limbs on my own.

  But that begs the question. Where am I?

  I looked around and found myself in a small, white room. The room was completely uniform, a perfect square of pristine white walls. There wasn’t a door or any windows, and under me was a long, white table that sat raised off the ground.

  And I was alone.

  No sooner than I had the thought, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my skin prickled as my pulse raced a little bit faster.

  Someone’s behind me. Zaphkiel.

  I turned and found the unassuming man right behind me, standing with his hands behind his back. He’d changed out of his plain clothes and now wore a white linen robe.

  “Good to see you up and about.” He smiled wide, showing his polished white teeth that matched the walls. “The transition usually puts most people out of commission for a while. I’m surprised you’re up.”

  “Where the hell am I, Zaphkiel?” I ran a hand through my blond hair, sweeping it back and out of my eyes. “What is this place?”

  “This is a place between worlds. Think of it like a street. Earth is on one side of the street, and Xenai, the planet I’m sending you to, is on the other.” He crossed his arms and tapped a finger to his lips. “Oh, and you can stop calling me Zaphkiel now. That was the name I went by on Earth. On Xenai, my name is Weilin.”

  His words threw me for a loop, and I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to come to terms with my reality falling apart.

  Not cut out for shit like this. Reality is supposed to be cold and logical. The edge of a blade. Sharp and to the point. This is an ocean of fucked up, and I’ve waded too far out only to realize I don’t know how to swim.

  I threw my hands up. “Okay, Zaphkiel, Weilin. W
hatever you want to be called, it doesn’t much concern me.

  ”What the hell happened to my fourteen hours? I didn’t last two before I had both Liz and Marcel on my ass.”

  Weilin chuckled and held his hand up and pointed at me. ”You happened, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “You knew your fate, which isn’t supposed to happen.” He grinned sheepishly. “Because you had knowledge you weren’t supposed to, that changed things. It changed the way you thought and acted, changed the decisions you made.

  "Because you altered your route, you accidentally ran into Marcel and Black Elizabeth on their way to the warehouse and ended up hastening your own death.”

  Well, that doesn’t help in the slightest. I sighed. And it only makes my head hurt. I cleared my throat and stared down at the god of this place between places.

  “Your answers are giving me a headache.” I held a hand up. “I guess I have to thank you for saving my life. But you didn’t do it out of kindness, so why don’t you tell me about the job? And this new world, Xenai, you called it.”

  “Jobs. Plural.” Weilin smiled wide, shoving his hands into pockets of his robe and leaning back, despite there not being anything for him to lean against. “And I will, to an extent. But before that, we need to discuss something important.”

  “That being?”

  “Your fragile human brain.” He smirked. “From here on out, there’s going to be much that you’re not going to understand immediately…maybe too much. If you try and make sense of it all, I expect your mind will end up breaking under the strain. I recommend just accepting that there will be many things that won’t make sense and move on. As long as you don’t let it overwhelm you, you should be fine. Relatively speaking.”

  Great. So more non-answers and complications. Just what I needed. I scoffed. “You still haven’t told me anything. What exactly am I walking into here?”

  He waved me off. “We’d be here for days if I tried to explain everything, and I’ve got better things to do. I’m not going to give you a long and detailed history of the world, save for the fact that it’s close enough to Earth in most regards that it won’t immediately fry your brain trying to understand how everything works…though there are a few things that are fundamentally different.”