Forge Of Fate: A Blacksmiths Journey

The academy had always been a place of learning, discipline, and refinement. But tonight, it became a battlefield.

As the Blood Nights continued, the faculty could no longer remain passive. The assassins had made it clear—they were escalating. Valdris gathered the academy's strongest combatants, his expression dark as he addressed them in the inner chamber.

"They think we're just going to sit back and watch as they cull our students." His voice was calm, but the fury beneath it was unmistakable. "It's time we remind them why this academy is feared."

A silent agreement passed through the room. The time for subtle defenses was over. It was time to hunt.

Gregor and Rourke took the lead in setting up countermeasures across the city. The assassins were using precision tactics, striking from the shadows and disappearing before retaliation. That meant they were cautious.

So Gregor and Rourke decided to use that against them.

A group of students who had been marked as high-value targets were discreetly escorted out of the academy—only for assassins to be tipped off about "secret" safe houses being established elsewhere.

Except these weren't safe houses. They were traps.

Gregor, ever the strategist, designed the buildings to appear as natural places for students to hide. Inside, however, they were reinforced with collapsing floors, tripwires, and defensive formations that could be activated in an instant.

"I still say we should fill one with actual explosives," Rourke grunted as he examined a nearly invisible mana-thread stretched across the entrance of one hideout. "No quicker way to deal with a pack of killers."

Gregor smirked. "We still need prisoners to interrogate."

Rourke sighed. "Fine. No explosions… for now."

By midnight, the fake hideouts were operational, their locations intentionally leaked through manipulated informants. The faculty watched and waited.

While Gregor and Rourke focused on direct countermeasures, Sylvia prepared for a different kind of warfare.

Poison had already been used against the faculty once with Vaelis Thornbloom. It was only a matter of time before the assassins tried again.

In her private alchemical chamber, Sylvia worked tirelessly, her hands moving with precision as she ground rare herbs into a fine powder.

She muttered under her breath. "If they want to play with toxins, we'll show them what true alchemy can do."

She created an antidote for the most common poisons used by underground killers. But she didn't stop there. She also prepared countermeasures—vapors that would neutralize airborne toxins, alchemical threads that could detect even the faintest trace of venom in food and drink.

And then there were the offensive measures.

She held up a small vial of crimson liquid, watching as it swirled under the light. A single drop of this, when exposed to air, would react violently, releasing a paralysis-inducing mist.

"Let's see how well they fight when they can't move," she murmured.

The traps were set. The countermeasures were in place. Now, all that was left was to see if the assassins would take the bait.

Valdris stood atop the academy's tallest tower, gazing down at the city. His expression remained unreadable as he observed the movement of torches and shadows below.

"Will they come?" one of the professors asked beside him.

Valdris closed his eyes briefly. Then, in the distance, he saw it—a flicker of movement, a silhouette against the rooftops.

"They're already here."