In the shadows, the masked man watched their retreating figures disappear into the night. He struggled to his feet, pulled a communication Crystal from his robes, and crushed it between his teeth.
The moment the Crystal shattered, a dark red halo flared up, coalescing in the air into a line of twisted text.
[Target's combat power severely underestimated. Mission failed. Requesting extraction.]
The text flickered twice before dissipating into the air.
Clutching his shoulder, the masked man staggered away in the opposite direction.
Nightingale Bar.
The sign was a wooden carving of a red bird, mounted on the outer wall. Its wings were spread, and its eyes, inlaid with rubies, glinted eerily in the darkness.
The bar's door was narrow, only wide enough for one person to pass through.
Pushing the door open revealed a dimly lit interior. The air was a mixture of alcohol, tobacco, and cheap perfume.
Behind the bar, a woman was wiping a glass.
