The Dragon's Ember

Secret Orders

Kato didn’t close his eyes. His mind was made up. In the Slums, deep sleep was a luxury equivalent to suicide. With the remaining tough, rancid dried meat, he forced his jaw muscles to work, chewing slowly to squeeze every bit of energy from the meager rations he had. His thoughts drifted to the mysterious figure who had been watching him. Whoever it was, that person possessed a talent for stealth that couldn't be underestimated, far beyond the average market thugs who only knew how to fight in a mob.

At the same time, deep within the main headquarters of the ShadowBlade Clan, the atmosphere was far from the peaceful darkness of the Slums. The secret hall, hidden behind the double walls of the elders' archive room, was thick with the heavy, almost suffocating scent of sandalwood incense.

Askar stood in the center of the room, arms folded across his chest. His black robes bore the clan emblem embroidered in silver thread, the mark of a commander of the special elimination unit. Before him, four men, Aidos, Nursultan, Yerlan, and Arman, stood in perfect formation, heads bowed as they awaited orders. There was no sound, only the steady rhythm of their breathing and the drip of water from the drainage pipes behind the walls.

"Kato is a stain," Askar’s voice broke the silence, cold and sharp as a freshly honed blade. "Even though he has been cast out, his name is still whispered in the lower corridors. Some fools in that district have begun to see him as a minor symbol of resistance. That is a nuisance we cannot allow."

Aidos, the youngest among them, looked up slightly. "Isn’t this a bit excessive, Commander? He’s just a boy who failed to awaken his shadow. He doesn’t even have enough energy to light a torch, let alone stand against us."

Askar turned with a swift motion. His eyes narrowed, carving sharp lines into his rigid face. "Your greatest mistake is to underestimate something you do not understand, Aidos. If the elders have gone so far as to send us, it means he is no longer just a failed boy. He is a disaster waiting to happen. We aren’t finishing him because he’s a threat now, but because of what he could become in the future."

Askar walked toward a teak table in the corner of the room, where a worn map of the Slums was spread out. He pressed his finger onto the center of the district. "Finish this cleanly. No ceremony. No witnesses. Ensure there is nothing left to tell the tale. If anyone else dares to interfere, they must be buried right along with him."

Yerlan, who had remained silent until then, took a step forward. "What about the clan authorities if they find out we’re moving without a public order?"

"That is exactly why you were chosen," Askar cut him off bluntly. "You are ghosts. To the world, you never existed. And after tonight, Kato will never exist either. Move out now. Use the underground ventilation shafts to avoid detection by the border patrols."

The four subordinates bowed in unison before vanishing into the darkness of the corridor with unnatural speed. Askar remained there, staring at the map with a flat expression. He knew this betrayal had to be carried out in the shadows. If the other council elders caught wind of internal power struggles involving the illegal elimination of their own kin, civil war could erupt. However, the fear of the ancient prophecy overshadowing Kato, known only to a handful of elders, made Askar feel that a small amount of bloodshed in the slums was a cheap price to pay for the clan's security.

Meanwhile, back in the Slums, Kato was still leaning against the cold pillar. His instincts, though dulled by hunger, suddenly reacted. The hair on his neck stood up. The night air, which usually smelled of garbage and dust, now felt strange, as if the air itself was growing tense.

He threw away the last scraps of meat he had finished chewing. He didn't just toss the trash aside; he placed it in a corner to avoid leaving unnecessary footprints. Kato began to move, crawling along the shadows of the crumbling brick walls. He avoided the main paths. He knew all too well that in this harsh world, the path that looked the safest was exactly where death lay in wait.

He climbed onto the roof of an old warehouse made of rusted corrugated tin. From here, he had a wide view of the district’s entrance gate. From this height, he could see the faint flicker of oil lamps. However, just as he tried to catch his breath, he saw something that made him freeze.

Four human silhouettes were moving with incredible agility. They didn't walk like the ordinary residents, who were often hobbled by malnutrition. Their movements were coordinated, disciplined, and efficient, the hallmarks of those forged in high-level clan training. Kato held his breath. He recognized that movement pattern. It was a ShadowBlade scouting formation.

"Damn it," he cursed softly, barely audible even to himself.

Kato knew they hadn't come for a mere outing. They were hunting. And considering how the clan had treated him, he knew for certain that he was the primary target. His mind raced, replaying memories of the district’s layout. He knew there were narrow alleys with traps known only to those who had spent days surviving here, like him.

He didn’t flee in a panic. Running meant showing weakness and providing an easy target. Instead, he began moving in the opposite direction, making a slight noise on the corrugated tin roofs so the assassins could hear his trail.

Below, Aidos came to a sudden halt. He raised his hand, signaling to his companions. Nursultan, Yerlan, and Arman immediately scattered, pressing themselves against the building walls as if they were part of the architecture itself.

"I heard something on the roof," whispered Aidos.

"It’s bait," replied Askar, who was apparently following from a safe distance behind. "Don’t fall for it. He’s trying to lure us into a danger zone. Stick to the original plan: surround him from four points."

Kato, still on the roof, realized his tactic hadn't entirely worked. He could hear faint whispers below. They were trained, he thought, his heart beginning to race. They know how to read my footsteps.

He had no weapons. There was only a piece of rusted iron pipe he’d found near a pillar earlier. It wasn’t enough to fight four trained men, especially if they carried the clan’s poisoned short swords. Kato leaped to the other side of the roof, landing with a barely audible sound on a pile of old tarps.

He had to separate them. In an open area, he would be dead in seconds. He had to draw them into the labyrinth of underground passages filled with trash traps and toxic debris.

Kato ran, this time intentionally letting himself be seen by Yerlan at the corner of the building.

"There!" Yerlan shouted, immediately leaping onto the roof with an agility that made the air whistle.

Kato didn’t look back. He sprinted toward a narrow gap between two near-collapsing buildings. He knew that behind that gap lay a drainage hole covered with rotting plywood. If he could lure them there, he might have a chance to trap one of them, or at least give himself a moment to catch his breath.

However, as he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with someone.

Not the clan. Not a district resident. It was an old man in gray robes who stared at him with a calm gaze, as if the presence of four clan assassins behind him was nothing more than a passing breeze.

"You’re running in the wrong direction, young man," the old man said in a raspy voice.

Kato had no time for pleasantries. "There are killers behind me. Get out of the way if you don't want to die too!"

The man gave a thin smile, one that seemed out of place in such a slum. "Killers? You mean the ones too arrogant to realize they have just entered territory they should never have stepped foot in?"

The sound of footsteps behind Kato grew closer. Aidos, Yerlan, and the two others emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust. They paused for a moment when they saw the old man in front of Kato, but without hesitation, Nursultan drew his short sword, which radiated a cold, purplish aura.

"Don’t get involved, old-timer," Nursultan hissed. "Or you’ll just be another casualty."

Kato gripped his iron pipe until his knuckles turned white. He knew this would be his final stand if he didn’t manage to get out of here. He was ready to lunge, ready to give it his all even though he knew he possessed no shadow power.

But before Kato could take a step, the old man raised his hand. No light flared, no shadow technique was visible, but the air around them suddenly became heavy. Immensely heavy. So heavy that the assassins began to gasp for breath.

"The ShadowBlade clan has indeed forgotten how to respect a guest in someone else's home," the old man murmured.

The four assassins were stunned, their weapons trembling in their hands. They couldn't move forward. It was as if an invisible wall was holding them back.

Kato stared at the old man, then at the four killers who now looked terrified. He realized he had just witnessed something far beyond the capabilities of the clan that had cast him out. This wasn't about shadow talent. This was something else entirely.

"Who are you?" Kato asked, his voice hoarse.

The old man didn’t answer. He only looked back toward the district perimeter where the assassins had come from.

"They are already inside the perimeter, Kato. But you were right about one thing: they will never be able to get out of here easily."

In the distance, a loud thud echoed, the sound of something shattering under unnatural energy pressure. The clan assassins were now deathly pale. Askar, who had been hiding in the shadows, stepped out, his face drained of its composure.

"Who are you?" Askar shouted at the old man.

The old man ignored him and looked at Kato. "You have only two choices now: come with me and learn why they are afraid of you, or fight them now and die as prey."

Kato looked at the iron pipe in his hand, then at the four killers who were now trembling violently under the pressure the old man was exerting. He knew his life would never be the same again. With one long, deep breath, he threw the iron pipe to the ground.

"I choose the first option."

The old man nodded, and with a snap of his fingers, he created a distortion in the air that sent all five assassins flying against the building walls. Without wasting a moment, the three of them sped into the deeper darkness of the alleyway, leaving behind the killers who were now screaming in pain from a force they didn't understand.

They had entered the district perimeter, and for Kato, this was the beginning of the destruction of his past.