Chapter 93: Technique!

The next morning was just like any other day. The sun rose high in the sky. Gwen and Diona were still asleep, sleeping in since they were also on a short break from their school.

Albedo had also slept in, wanting a nice refresher, but Seraphyne hadn’t slept. She had never cared much for mornings, as they reminded her too much of the life she had left behind.

She moved downstairs towards the basement and spotted the assassins already awake when she got there.

All eight of them were sitting around, scattered around the chamber. They had no weapons in their arms, yet there was still a stiffness in their posture, like they were still completely on guard.

Kaela stood at the front, the de facto leader, her hair tied back, her expression unreadable.

Seraphyne let the silence hang, savoring it as she swept her gaze across them, crimson eyes glinting in the lantern light.

She saw the distrust and the curiousity, but also the fear. She was sure Kaela had told the other girls all about what she had done.

the curiosity, the tightly wound tension. Broken blades, waiting to see whether they would be discarded or reforged.

Finally, she spoke, “You are awake earlier than most nobles would ever dream,” she drawled, her tone edged with a kind of happy amusement, “Perhaps that is the only mercy left to killers like you, you do not need the comfort of sloth.”

Kaela’s eyes narrowed slightly as she heard Seraphyne’s words, thinking back to the sight of Seraphyne effortlessly disposing the shadowy figure.

“We were trained never to waste a morning. Every second is incredibly valuable to a killer,” Kael said.

“Trained.” Seraphyne tasted the word as if it were bitter, remembering her own past. The relentless training she had underwent to reach her power, and how that training couldn’t even save her sister.

She paced forward, her heels clicking softly against the stone, the faint sound echoing in the chamber.

“Yes, trained. Conditioned. Shackled. Told when to breathe, when to kill, when to sleep, when to kneel.”

Her gaze swept them all like a scalpel cutting flesh, “Tell me, after escaping such chains, what is it you want?”

Kaela did not flinch. Her chin lifted, defiance flashing like a dying ember reigniting, “Freedom,” that was the word she said, and all of the other former assassins nodded in agreement.

“Freedom. For myself, for them. No more whispers from the Abyss. No more collars, no more masters.” Her eyes hardened, “I know we don’t have bargaining power, but I hope that if we are to stay here… if we are to serve at all, then only on fair terms. All I want is for us to be treated… as people.”

The words struck the room like a stone dropped into still water. The others shifted subtly as they stared at Seraphyne, hoping for a specific answer.

Seraphyne’s smile curved, soft yet cruel, as though she were entertained by their naivety and moved by it all the same. She tilted her head, scarlet hair spilling over her pale cheek like blood over snow.

“Fair treatment, is it?” Her tone carried both mockery and curiosity. “Do you imagine I will braid your hair, tuck you into silken beds, and sing you lullabies for your scars?”

One of the younger assassins stiffened under her words, but Kaela only narrowed her eyes further, unyielding.

“I imagine you will not. But if what Albedo said was true, that he will not waste us, nor treat us like tools to be discarded, then I will trust him. If he lies, then you may kill me where I stand.”

The other assassins stirred at that, a flicker of alarm flashing in their gazes, but Kaela’s expression did not waver.

Seraphyne regarded her for a long moment, crimson eyes boring into Kaela’s dark ones. The silence stretched, tense, electric. And then let out a low, velvet laugh.

It was not cruel laughter meant to belittle, but something stranger, a sound like silk being torn, amused, even faintly delighted.

“You remind me of myself, little raven,” Seraphyne murmured, her voice dark with memory, “When my own family burned, I asked for nothing but fairness as well. I thought the world might give it to me, if only I bled enough to earn it.” Her smile curved, sharp and terrible. “It never did.”

She let the silence settle again, before her tone sharpened, steel beneath velvet.

“But Albedo is no tyrant. He does not waste, and he does not lie about chains. What he offers is not comfort. It is purpose.”

Seraphyne’s eyes swept across the assassins, pinning each of them like insects on glass.

“Make no mistake, I am not one to coddle those I train. I will train you, and my training is not gentle. You will bleed, you will scream, you will curse me. Some of you may break entirely.”

She leaned forward slightly, her smile widening, crimson lips curving like a predator’s.

“But if you survive me… then you will stand in this world not as shadows fleeing a master’s leash, but as weapons sharper than any knight, freer than any lord. You will have your own lives. Your own choices. You will serve Albedo not because he owns you, but because his path is one worth walking.”

Kaela studied her, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she glanced back at the others, and in their eyes she saw it, the spark. Not yet trust or loyalty, but the hunger for survival and meaning.

Turning back, she gave the faintest nod. “If what you say is true, then we will endure your training.”

Seraphyne’s smile gleamed, white teeth flashing against crimson lips. She straightened, her presence filling the chamber like a storm about to break.

“Good. Then we begin at dusk. Rest your bodies. Tonight, I will break you to pieces, and see what kind of monsters crawl out of the dark.”

The assassins stirred, tension shifting into grim acceptance. For the first time since they had entered this villa, the weight of their servitude seemed to lift, replaced by something unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Hope.

Kaela inclined her head once, solemn and unyielding. “We’ll be ready.”

***

Meanwhile, not long after, Albedo had woke up, and had already eaten his breakfast, showered and got ready to move on with his day.

His first thought was related to Elara, particularly with helping her. Now that he had time to kill, it was time to find that technique he had promised her, and thankfully, there was one person under his roof who possessed the kind of centuries-old arsenal such things might be found in.

He headed downstairs and spotted the Vampire outside in the garden alongside Ember, running her hand across Ember’s mare gently before turning around as she sensed Albedo approaching.

“You slept late, mon cher,” she purred, voice a velvet drawl tinged with faint mockery. “I was beginning to think mornings were too cruel for you as well.”

“I figured I’d have a nice rest, I’ve been hurrying around quite alot lately,” Albedo said.

“Now, I need to know if you still have access to all the treasures you’ve gathered in the past,” Albedo asked.

Seraphyne raised an eyebrow, “May I ask what for?”

“I need a technique for an ally.” He said.

Seraphyne tilted her head at his words, silver laughter curling from her throat like smoke.

“An ally, is it? How quaint,” she teased, but there was no malice in her tone, only curiosity. Her crimson eyes studied him for a long, weighing moment, then she slipped her hand into the folds of her dark gown.

From within, she produced a small object, a key of blackened silver, etched with faint crimson veins that pulsed as though alive. Its teeth were jagged, mismatched, yet each edge shimmered faintly with power older than kingdoms.

She held it delicately between two pale fingers, the metal glowing faintly against her alabaster skin.

“This is the key to my arsenal and history,” Her smile curved, scarlet lips shaping words that felt both gift and warning.

“Every relic I have gathered, every tome I bled for, every blade that tasted sovereign blood, it all rests within. What you seek, mon cher, you will find there.”

She stepped forward, pressing the key into his palm. The instant it touched his skin, Albedo felt the weight of it, a subtle gravity, like a whisper tugging him toward something vast and dangerous.

Seraphyne’s hand lingered a moment longer, her nails brushing across his knuckles before she pulled away.

“Be warned,” she added, her tone dark velvet once more, “It is not a place of order. My treasures are many, but they do not lie quietly in their coffins. Some bite back. Some… remember.”

Albedo closed his fist around the key, the faint pulse of crimson light dimming as though acknowledging its new master. His eyes narrowed, resolute.

“That won’t be a problem,” he said.

Seraphyne’s smile widened, sharp and amused, like a predator watching a cub bare its teeth.

“Bon. Then go, find your little treasure.”

Albedo turned the key in his hand once, feeling the promise of what lay ahead

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