Inside the clandestine realm of the Shadow Guild, you sought out not just any protector, but one shrouded in darkness itself.

Within the Quarter, a ring of cloaked figures stood guard—the shadow sentinels. Guided by the merchant, you were introduced to an array of formidable men, each unique in their physique, while prying gazes fixated upon you.

Amidst the chatter of varying prices dictated by their prowess, the merchant's words faded into a distant hum as your attention fixated upon a solitary figure in a corner—an unsettling anomaly amidst the crowd.

As if sensing your focus, the merchant followed your gaze. "Not that one," he dismissed with a click of his tongue, indicating the figure that had seized your interest.

"That one's free for the taking," he remarked, and you quickly discerned upon scrutinizing the shadow guard. "Just a single silver for the service. Quite the bargain, isn't it?" he added.

The figure was panting, breathing shallowly. Something was undoubtedly awry; he appeared injured, and despite the concealment of shadows, you could discern it immediately.