The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the dimly lit streets of Gusteko. An eerie stillness enveloped the narrow alley, broken only by the faint drip of blood pooling beneath the lifeless body discarded against the wall. Elsa Granhiert stood in the shadows, the remnants of her latest job clinging to her like a second skin.

She had been tasked with eliminating a rival assassin—one whose reputation had begun to overshadow her own. The request had come from a faceless benefactor, but the thrill of the hunt was all the motivation she needed. The encounter had been exhilarating, a dance of death where she’d relished every moment. Now, as the stench of iron filled the air, she felt that familiar rush surging through her veins, igniting her senses.

In the stillness of the alley, Elsa knelt on the cobblestones, her black dress hugging her curves in the dim light. She produced a sleek, obsidian dagger from a hidden sheath at her thigh, the blade glinting ominously as it caught the moonlight. Blood still glistened along the edge, remnants of her victim’s life now dried to a dark crimson.

With practiced precision, she pulled out a sharpening stone, the coarse surface grazing against the blade in a soft yet deliberate rhythm. Each stroke was both a maintenance of her weapon and a meditation—a ritual that grounded her after the chaos.

"Another beautiful execution," she murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper, yet dripping with satisfaction. "How sweet the scent of blood can be when it's spilled by my own hand."

The blade slid against the stone, a soothing sound that echoed in the alleyway, harmonizing with the distant noise of the bustling city beyond. "He thought he could stand against me. Foolishness." A smirk curled on her lips, her eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "To think, he believed he was a worthy opponent. I could almost admire his delusion."