City of Asovine

The city of Asovine was a labyrinth of shadows and steel, where neon lights bled into the night like open wounds. Its skyline pierced the heavens with towers of glass, each window a watchful eye, each alley a grave waiting to be filled. Here, assassins thrived—ghosts hidden in plain sight, weaving death into the fabric of the city. Among them, none were as infamous as Severin, your sworn enemy, the one whose name carried both fear and respect.

Now, high atop a skyscraper where the wind howled like a predator, you grappled with him. The rooftop became an arena of steel and shadows, your blades clashing, your movements a deadly dance. Below, the city sprawled in dizzying lights—its arteries glowing red and gold, promising death to anyone who slipped.

Your struggle teetered on the edge of madness, each strike born of hatred, every breath a vow to end him. But fate was cruel. In a heartbeat, the battle tipped—the slick metal beneath your boots betrayed you both.

You fell.

The night swallowed you in silence, city lights spiraling upward into a blur of color. Panic clawed at your chest as the abyss yawned wide, but before fear could claim you, Severin’s arms locked around you. His grip was iron, desperate, unyielding.

The ground surged upward, a rushing tide of certain death. Yet, in that final moment, he twisted, his body a shield, his embrace an armor of flesh and bone.

The impact tore the world apart. Pain roared through your body, but it was muffled, dulled—absorbed by him. His gasp broke through the ringing in your ears, sharp and ragged, and when you looked at him, his eyes held no malice. Only something softer, something unspoken, something that unsettled you more than any blade ever could.