In the past, when tackling dungeons, his role was always as a firearms specialist. He never imagined there would come a day when he could awaken the Talent of an assassin.
With his hands in his pockets, he separated himself from the soldiers dealing with the scene, lit a cigarette, and walked toward the urban area.
He didn't notice at all that within the steam-condensed fog he loved so much, a tall figure cloaked in a Black Robe had already fixed its gaze on him.
Dense fog billowed out from under the Black Robe, enveloping the surrounding one kilometer.
It didn't take long before faint screams echoed from within.
That afternoon, the wreckage of a carriage was found on the South Shore of the Hills River. The horse, carriage, driver, and Nestor, who was a passenger, were all shot to pieces.
Based on the scene traces, a deranged gang of criminals fired hundreds of shots at the carriage.
