As I walk through the bustling market, I have one purpose.

Watching the target.

I've been following the man for a week now, watching his daily routine. People he meets, places he goes, the information I need to take him out. As much as I love watching slimy bastards, I have to be patient, I need the perfect timing so I can rid the earth of this waste of space.

I casually stroll through the crowds, stopping to pick up things, acting intrigued, and then moving on. Watching... Waiting...

I'm dressed as a lower-class woman in simple skirts and a plain blue blouse. Something that will blend right in.

Even though I spend a good third of my time in crowds, I can't stand them. Too much can be hidden in the swirl of people.

For example, me.

People walk about, shopping like there's nothing wrong, but there's an undercurrent of anxiety.

Why are there so many people out shopping? Because they are preparing to leave if The Rage gets too bad here.

People have been arriving for months, seeking refuge from the fatal disease. They probably haven't helped to contain it but when your city is overrun with the dead, what do you do other than flee?

The Rage has been going on for months. No one knows what caused it and we don't know how to stop it. It starts as a minor headache that gets worse as it progresses. Then after a couple of days, black veins spread from the back of the person's neck along with raw pain and fever that spreads throughout the body. It takes the life right out of folk. I've seen the victims, they are pale and sickly looking, almost as if The Rage feeds on their insides until it kills them. The longest I've heard of a person lasting was two weeks.

Though, if that wasn't bad enough, not everyone dies when they get it...

And that's probably worse than dying.

From what I've heard from the healers trying to save the victims, some of the strongest don't die, they turn into demonic creatures that are rabid. Some of the priests believe they are sinners that have been made into demons for their wrongdoing. People have said it's almost like rabies that animals get, but it changes the person, making them stronger and faster until it finally kills them.

The undead have eerie, black veins that snake throughout their whole body and eyes that are black pools. Their canines are enlarged and their saliva is infectious. With their strength, speed, and rabid tendencies, common people are the undead's easy prey. They hunger for flesh and blood.

I've tried to get more information on it but most of the people that deal with the sick are dead.

Though, all I've got to say is, it has killed my business...

I know I should be more concerned but I truly have no one important to me and it's not like I'm around the sick. It's just me and my job, which isn't doing very well when my targets end up dead before I can kill them...

I work as a for-hire assassin, so to say. I get hired by my clients to take out scumbags. I usually do a full search of the target before deciding to take the job. I only kill people that deserve to die.

And the man I've been following? Well, the bastard likes to rape kids. Rosio Wirek has a habit of tricking the poor, street kids and making it seem like he's giving them a good home and good food when truly he intends to use them for his own "fun." But no one notices when an orphan goes missing, most just assume they ran away, but a couple of people know better and they hired me to give this bastard an early trip to hell.

As Wirek walks into his work building, I slip off, knowing that he'll be there till late.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*.• ✧･ﾟ: *

I sit in a nook on top of an abandoned tavern watching for my target. I've already changed out of the skirts and into my black leather. My attire consists of pants, a corset over a black tunic, leather cuff bands, tall boots, and of course my daggers sheathed on my belt and hidden in other places.

This should be a pretty effortless kill. Rosio is the youngest child of a lower lord's family. He wasn't raised to be the heir and hasn't ever been trained to fight. He has enough power to get away with stuff but not enough to be significant.

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, I see his pathetic shape stumbling down the road. Drunk, I presume.

I wait until he has passed my perch before silently climbing to the ground, careful to not draw his attention.

I've learned to be quiet over the years because when people see a formidable black figure moving towards them, most tend to sprint away as fast as they can. Most of the time a chase means tackling the dirtbags when I catch up.

As I stalk towards the stumbling man I unsheathe my dagger. I plan on walking up behind him and slitting his throat, easy as that, but when I'm only a couple of feet behind him, he whirls.

How he knew I was there, I have no clue. I've done this plenty of times and haven't ever been caught.

The look on his face is a new one for me. It's something between yearning and something wild, his teeth slightly bared in a snarl. I know this guy is a slimy asshole but I didn't know he had a few screws loose.

As I advance, I have an easy smirk on my face.

"Why hello there," I drawl, almost like a purr, "do you always walk home this way?"

He looks confused for a moment, blinking rapidly, then he reaches out a hand towards me.

I'm relatively sure he doesn't want to shake hands with me, a traditional greeting used by the Freiyian people.

As I look close, I narrow my yellow eyes at the black veins marring the skin of his hand and wrist.

"What the hell? How long have you been infected?" I ask, lifting my eyes to his face only to see him lunge at me.

I dodge to the right, missing his grasp by inches. He pushes off the wall and crouches, growling at me.

I don't think I want to get too close considering he's sick. I take the dagger still gripped in my hand and throw it. It flys straight towards his heart but at the last second his hand whips up and grabs it out of the air. It cuts his hand but he doesn't drop the knife. His nostrils flare at the scent of the black blood dripping off his fingers. He finally drops the blade and that's when I know I'm in deep shit.

With speeds faster than I can comprehend, all I can do is block the strikes he deals at me.

I can feel my bones cracking as hit after hit rain down on my blocks. In a moment of desperation, I stick my leg out, hooking his and pulling him off balance.

He falls on his ass clumsily and I scramble back. I don't think this is a fight I'm going to win.

I turn on my heel, leaping to grab onto the roof edge when something slams into me from behind. I feel a couple of ribs pop and my head cracks against the wall from the force.

Something must still be working in my head because my hands are already reaching my knives and I stab one into the body behind me. I bring the dagger down again when the weight doesn't let me go.

My breathing is ragged with the pressure and panic clawing at me. I feel a warm breath on my shoulder, then a stinging pain fills my back and arm.

Wirek sucks at the wound, licking and swallowing the blood that oozes from it. Well, that is until I bring my arm up and drive a dagger into his eye.

The weight on my back suddenly drops away and I spin around, surveying my surroundings. Rosio lays dead on the ground, my dagger still jutting out of his eye socket. Black blood still trickles from the wounds I gave him. His face is still streaked with the veins that now damn me.

As adrenaline fades away, I realize how screwed I am. The bite on my shoulder throbs with sharp pain and I feel warm blood drip down my back.

God, I'm fucked.

I, Freya Hale, am a dead woman walking...

As a wave of pain courses through me, I stumble, holding my abdomen and breathing hard. I'm no weak human. I've taken the Tala De Ragor, the test of pain, a test that hundreds take but only a few pass, but this is something else. It starts to run through my veins and I scramble, falling and stumbling till I reach a dead end.

I fall to my knees, unable to stand through the agony before I crawl into a small house beside me.

My bones feel as if they're breaking and then slicing through my skin. My bite burns and feels as if my dagger was rooted in it. I can hardly feel my lungs as I scream in misery.

I can't feel anything other than the pain that courses through my body in relentless waves. It feels as if it's tearing my muscles from my bones.

After minute upon minutes pass, I finally fall into darkness.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*.• ✧･ﾟ: *

First real chapter! Do you like it? If so, tell me, if not, still tell me 😂

Criticism is welcome!

I might be introducing more storylines and seeing which y'all like the best. It just depends on whether or not I have time. So, yeah! There's that!

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Mf