As agreed, I set on my mission to track and end the target he gave me. It had been days since I last ate a soul. My stomach craved for something to eat, and Systiere was begging me to take control. But this was a mission. A mission that required caution. Usually, criminals travel in small groups to reduce the likelihood of getting caught. 

This gang though infested the villages like rats. Despite knowing I could take all of them, this set of beings possess no moral code, meaning they could endanger lives if they believe it will benefit them. Most of them enjoyed seeing the fear in the eyes of the helpless. To them, it felt like all the power in the universe belongs to them when they hold their blades to someone's neck. And once they partake in these heinous acts repeatedly, they fall for the illusion of being the authority over everyone.

Of course, some crooks force some of these men and women into participating in these acts. However, if it is because their life was at stake, then they earn the same amount of non-existing pity I have for a person who pursued the deleterious path. Yes, some may be the providers for their family, but is it better to inconvenience your own family, then to destroy the tens of families by their actions? 

No matter what you do, the killer will remain a killer as long as they wish, so why should you put yourself down that same path. Why be the reason young children lose their parents and have to scrounge for every crumb they can find. Why do all that just to save yourself?

I most likely am being unreasonably harsh, considering the fact that I know about being a member of a family? Yes, Tama is like a sister to me, but if someone were to threaten to harm her if I did not comply with their wishes, I would be indifferent. Fact is, I consume souls to survive like my sister for the rest of the centuries we have left to live.

I apologize if I appear to still be inconsiderate. I am basing my views on the scenes I am forced to witness every time I hunt. These people could be like the special gemstones found on the earth. At first glance, they appear like the common rock, until you break the outer layer and find the shining stone beneath. But to compare these criminals to precious gems is to imply that there is a beautiful soul underneath. 

That would be naïve, and I am not naïve. It would be better to compare them to a tree. A tree that grows in a place, covered in moss, and once you cut it, you find that the inside is the same as any other person, just its purity was tainted. Or, you would find that it is rotten to the core, with disgusting insects inside. The latter, in my opinion, is a more frequent occurrence.

I watched from behind a building, allowing the white clay walls to conceal my body. The gang leader walked with his chest puffed out and his head held high like he already conquered the world. The man had no companions to accompany him. Then again, they could be waiting for him somewhere. In moments of spotting the leader, he rushed into the tavern as stated by Ladron.

Subsequently, I used my ability of shape-shifting to change my body into a sloven male. My shoulders broadened, including my muscles. I would have added the usual last touch of hairs around my mouth, but in a tavern such as this, the customers are too preoccupied to take notice of other people. Besides, I looked quite sardonic without a beard. After fully shape-shifting, I walked around the corner, heading towards the door of the building. 

This would be as easy as breathing. I had observed how these men acted, and become proficient in emulating those same behaviours, granting me the ability to not draw any unwanted attention. Entering the building, I could see groups of people seated around rows of ornate wooden tables. Quickly, I took my place at a table, giving me an unobstructed view of my target. 

Sitting at a table along the side, the leader conversed with a male of a prodigious build. I could not discern the exact features of the unknown male's face, yet when I gazed closer from the corner of my eye, I could see that his right forearm was severed off some time ago and now wrapped in leather. 

Around his belt was a dagger, sitting on his left side, and from my comparison of the two arms in terms of muscle mass, I could conclude his left arm was the weaker of the two. His currant dreadlocks hung from his hair, with gold to accessorize each thick bundle of strands. A black aura outlined his figure, a rare colour, meaning he was a jack of all trades regarding malfeasance.

"I hear you want to make a deal for a special weapon of mine."

"You have seen the scourge that plagues these towns. These abominations have killed hundreds of my men. I'm sure they have done the same to yours."

"Our men have remained unscathed. They are impressively cerebral, especially in discreet operations. Hence my doubt of why you would require such a weapon."

"So you are not giving your weapon?"

"I said I doubt, not my master."

I could hear Marak mutter insults of how the man is pathetic for serving someone else.

"My master," the mystery man continued in his gruff voice, "believes you can serve some use to us. Henceforth, I will give you the weapon when you can capture a powerful bereacher for us."

"You must be joking!" Marak's eyes widened. "The point of asking for your weapon is to compensate for our inability to capture one. Without it, we are doomed!"

"Pity then," the man stood up to leave after placing some coins onto the table. "I believe these coins should cover the cost of the drinks."

"Where are you going?!" Marak shouted angrily.

"I am going to find someone who can give my master results."

Marak rushed to follow his companion, causing me to get up from my seat to follow. As I was about to leave my table, a slender figure blocked my path.

"Hello ma'am," the male spoke.

I tried to brush past him, ignoring his comment, but he continued to stand in my way.

"Ma'am, please don't leave. I wish to have a drink with you."

"Wait a minute," I thought. "I am disguised as a man. How is he calling me ma'am? Is he insulting me?"

I expected some of the nearby customers to expect me to do something, yet they were engrossed in their own worlds. Looking behind the figure before me, I watched as the two men left the bar. Frustrated, I glared at the man. However, something caught me off guard. There was no aura surrounding him. Usually, there was some sort of coloured outline that was visible on humans for us bereachers to decipher who was a criminal. 

Stepping back, I studied his features, hoping for some indication of what he was. He was in his late twenties, with long black hair and copper eyes. His eyes! They do not match his hair, meaning he is no bereacher. If he is not a human or a bereacher , then what is he? Can he see beyond this mask I put up for my mission?