Stealth:Shadow of the Dojo The wind howled through the narrow streets of The Dojo, the flickering lights of lanterns casting faint glows on the stone paths. The night was darker than usual, with thick clouds masking the stars above. It was a perfect night for a hunt—though not one Stealth particularly enjoyed.

He moved through the shadows as easily as breathing, his footsteps silent, his presence nearly undetectable. The streets were quiet, and even though The Dojo was always alive with battles and warriors eager to prove themselves, Stealth knew that most fighters wouldn’t dare venture out on a night like this. Rumors had spread that the Void Clan had returned, and everyone knew what that meant: shadow warriors, twisted and corrupt, stalking the streets like predators.

But Stealth wasn’t afraid. Fear had long since lost its grip on him, replaced by an icy calm that allowed him to act without hesitation. He had faced countless enemies before, and each time, he had emerged victorious, not because of brute strength but because of his unparalleled ability to vanish, to strike from places where no one expected, and to disappear before his enemies even knew what had happened.

He was known as “The Ghost” for a reason.

Tonight’s mission was simple: recon. The Dojo’s elders had heard rumors of a Void Clan resurgence, and they needed confirmation. Stealth had volunteered immediately. He preferred to work alone, relying on his own skills rather than the chaos of group dynamics. There were few who could match his speed, precision, and ability to move unseen, and that made him the perfect candidate for scouting out enemy movements.

He scaled the wall of a nearby building with ease, his fingers finding small handholds in the rough stone. From the rooftop, he surveyed the landscape. The Dojo stretched out before him—a maze of alleys, courtyards, and training grounds, with towering structures in the distance marking the central halls where the greatest warriors honed their skills. But Stealth’s eyes were trained on the out