After the sun set, the atmosphere within the Andreas estate turned heavy.
Not loud.
Not tense.
Just… subdued.
The kind of gloom that settled quietly into the corners of rooms and stayed there, uninvited.
Seth sat at the long dining table alone.
The candles burned steadily, their flames barely wavering, casting warm light across polished wood and untouched portions of the hall. Silverware rested where it always had. Plates were arranged with noble precision. Everything was as it should be.
Nelly stood at his side, attentive as ever, her movements soft and practiced. She cut his food neatly, placed it within reach, adjusted the cup so it rested precisely where his hand would find it without searching.
Seth ate in silence.
His posture was composed, straight-backed, calm but beneath the long sleeves and proper clothing, his body still carried the remnants of exertion. Bruises he had chosen not to treat fully. Muscles that had not truly relaxed since dawn.
The estate felt emptier than usual.
Lord Andrea and Lady Andrea were gone.
Adnos was already traveling.
The guards had thinned.
The house breathed differently.
When Seth finished eating, he folded his napkin neatly and set it aside.
The maids moved in quietly, clearing the table with minimal sound. Plates vanished. Utensils were gathered. Chairs were straightened. Routine restored.
Nelly stepped closer and offered her arm.
"Shall I take you back to your quarters, young master?"
"Yes," Seth replied.
They walked the halls together, their footsteps echoing softly against stone and polished floors. The mansion's corridors were familiar to Seth—not by sight, but by memory. Every turn, every change in acoustics, every subtle shift in air told him exactly where he was.
When they reached his room, Nelly opened the door and guided him inside.
She helped him remove his outer coat, hung it carefully, then paused as if debating whether to say something. Her fingers lingered for half a second too long near his sleeve.
"You should rest," she said gently.
"I will," Seth replied.
Satisfied, though not entirely convinced, Nelly bowed and turned to leave.
Seth waited.
He listened as her footsteps moved down the corridor.
Counted them.
Measured the sound until it faded completely.
Only when he was certain he was alone did he exhale.
Not in relief but in transition.
A faint vibration buzzed against his left hand.
Once.
Then again.
Seth stiffened.
The signal was subtle, easily mistaken for imagination. But it wasn't magic. And it wasn't coincidence.
It was a call.
The cave.
His expression did not change, but his attention shifted instantly.
He turned and moved toward his bed, sitting down carefully. Beside it stood a modest shelf books neatly arranged, a few personal items placed with deliberate order.
He reached down to the lowest drawer.
Pulled it open.
From within, he retrieved a small metal pole, no longer than his forearm. Smooth. Cold. Unremarkable at a glance.
Seth pressed the base.
With a soft mechanical hum, the device responded. From its sides, four thin segments extended outward and upward, unfolding like signal antennas, precise and symmetrical.
He stood and walked to the window.
Carefully, he placed the pole upright against the sill.
Then he turned to the wall.
A painting hung there an old landscape piece, decorative, forgettable. Seth reached up and flipped it aside, revealing a hidden compartment embedded within the stone.
From inside, he removed a flat, disc-shaped device.
Metal. Compact. Lined with faint geometric seams that hinted at complexity beneath simplicity.
A hatch puffed open with a quiet hiss, revealing mechanical components arranged in tight, efficient layers.
Seth activated it.
The device warmed in his hand as systems came online.
He returned to the window, held the disc steady, and spoke.
Far below the Andreas estate, deep beneath layers of stone and silence, a signal dropped into existence.
In the control room of the cave, a circular portal-like interface flickered to life, hovering just above a reinforced console. Sound followed moments later.
Agatha was nearby.
She had been observing the construction floor, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever, watching the metal constructs complete their endless work. When the signal activated, she turned immediately, surprise flashing briefly across her face.
The voice came through clearly.
"Seth."
She stepped closer to the hovering sphere, studying it with open curiosity.
"Seth, is that you?" she asked.
"Yes," his voice replied calmly. "Glad you were close by."
Agatha huffed softly. "You have an interesting sense of timing."
"How's the situation on the ground?" Seth asked.
Agatha glanced around the vast chamber. The reinforced tunnels. The newly expanded floor. The endless, tireless motion of metal arms and construction units.
"Your… toys just stopped working for a while," she said. "I assume they're finished with whatever phase they were on. And I'll be honest"
She paused, eyes tracing the scale of the excavation.
"I'm impressed. The tunnels beneath are spacious. Clean. Purposeful."
"Toys?" Seth repeated.
"Oh." She waved a hand dismissively. "I meant your metal golems."
"They're called robots," Seth corrected. "Bots, for short."
Agatha snorted. "Whatever they're called."
There was a faint pause before Seth spoke again.
"I'd prefer to be there myself," he said, "but since you're already on site, this will be easier."
The sphere emitted a soft tone.
"Opposite the hardware system," Seth continued, "you should see a large computing interface."
Agatha turned, eyes scanning until she spotted ita massive panel lined with countless keys, switches, and glowing indicators.
"I see it," she said cautiously.
"Good. Pick up the sphere and stand in front of it."
She did as instructed, lifting the hovering device and positioning herself before the machine.
"Alright. Now"
Seth began issuing directions.
Agatha frowned almost immediately.
"What is a 'cursor'?" she interrupted.
"Never mind. Ignore that part."
"And when you say 'input,' do you mean"
"No. That's not just hold on."
Several minutes passed in confusion.
Agatha followed his instructions faithfully, but technology was not magic. There were no runes. No mana flows. No ritual logic to fall back on. Every term Seth used sounded foreign, abstract, and frustratingly precise.
Eventually, Seth sighed.
"Alright," he said. "Let me put it this way."
He slowed his speech.
"At the bottom of the board, there is a switch. It's small. It's currently red."
Agatha scanned the panel until she found it.
"I see it."
"Flip it."
She did.
The light shifted from red to green.
"Manual to voice command," Seth said. "Good."
The system emitted a low confirmation hum.
Seth straightened on his bed.
"On all construction bots," he said clearly, "after two hours of cooldown, commence Project: Third Floor Architecture Plan."
The system processed the command.
Authentication confirmed.
Data accumulated.
"Deploy carrier mechs," Seth added.
At the far left end of the chamber, a reinforced wall split open.
Three light mechanical constructs stepped forward, assembling themselves with smooth, deliberate movements. Their frames locked into place, joints aligning perfectly as they came to rest before Agatha facing the hovering sphere.
She raised an eyebrow.
"…Impressive," she admitted.
Before Seth could respond, something shifted.
At the mansion, a faint disturbance brushed against his senses not magic, not sound, but presence.
Footing.
Movement where there should have been none.
Seth paused mid-command.
Agatha noticed instantly.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
"Yes," Seth replied after a brief moment. "Continue observing."
He resumed issuing orders.
The carriers were instructed to transport materials. Equipment. Constructs.
Everything on the first floor relocated to the second.
Agatha watched as the machines moved with flawless coordination, lifting, carrying, reorganizing the dungeon with quiet inevitability.
"If anything unusual occurs," Seth said, "press the button on the sphere. I'll receive the signal."
Agatha glanced at the device. "Wouldn't a converse orb be simpler than this metal scrap?"
"You'll get used to it," Seth replied.
She scoffed lightly.
"There's something else," Agatha said. "I have a report. Two dead bodies at the cave entrance. The stone door was breached."
"I know," Seth said calmly. "Do what you want with the bodies. Seal the entrance with your magic."
"And the elf?" she asked.
"Conscious?"
"Not even close."
"Take her to the second floor," Seth said. "Watch her."
"Alright."
The connection cut.
The sphere dimmed.
In his room, Seth lay back on the bed, breathing slowly.
His muscles finally protested, exhaustion creeping in at the edges.
Then
A scent reached him.
Foreign.
Familiar.
Not belonging.
His body tensed instantly.
Intruders.
Night fell fully over the Andreas estate.
Not suddenly but deliberately.
The sun sank beneath the horizon, leaving behind a sky washed in deep indigo and bruised violet. Lanterns were lit along the outer walls and inner courtyards, their glow steady, methodical, revealing nothing beyond what was necessary.
Guards took their posts.
Servants withdrew indoors.
The gates remained open but watched.
What the estate did not know was that it had already been entered.
They moved without sound.
One by one, shadows detached themselves from the forest edge, slipping between trees, stone, and hedge with practiced ease. Their armor absorbed light rather than reflected it tight, layered leather treated to dull even moonshine. No crests. No insignia. No unnecessary metal.
Nightfall Assassins.
They did not rush.
Speed was secondary to certainty.
Each operative advanced along a separate vector, routes calculated to overlap only in contingency. Rooflines. Drain channels. Garden walls. Blind angles between lantern arcs.
One paused at the outer perimeter, crouching low near the stone wall. He reached down, fingers brushing the earth.
Fresh tracks.
Reduced patrol density.
No mounted sentries.
He tapped twice against the stone soft, rhythmic.
Confirmation sent.
Another slipped across the roof of the west wing, body low, movements measured to avoid disturbing the tiles. He paused near a vent shaft, peered down through a narrow grate.
Light below.
A corridor. Empty.
Servants had already cleared this wing.
He moved on.
Near the courtyard, two assassins crossed paths without acknowledging one another. One rolled beneath a hedge, flattening himself into the soil as a pair of guards passed within arm's reach. The guards spoke quietly routine chatter. Nothing of note.
When they moved on, the assassin rose like mist, already gone.
Information gathered.
Patterns observed.
Weaknesses noted.
They regrouped not physically, but functionally signals passed through subtle gestures, timed movements, and coded pauses.
By the time the estate had fully settled into night, Nightfall already knew its shape.
The leader waited on a low ridge beyond the forest line.
He had not moved since sunset.
From where he stood, the Andreas estate lay below like a quiet organism lit arteries, guarded joints, predictable rhythms.
He listened as one by one, his operatives returned.
Not all at once.
Never all at once.
They approached from different directions, melting out of shadow, kneeling briefly before him to report.
"Guard presence reduced by thirty percent," one said quietly. "Primary family members absent. Lord and Lady Andreas confirmed gone. Adnos departed earlier today."
The leader nodded once.
"Interior patrols thin," another reported. "Servants minimal. West wing partially unoccupied."
"Eastern watchtower rotates guards every quarter bell," a third added. "Pattern consistent. No irregular shifts."
"And the target?" the leader asked.
A pause.
"The blind son," the first operative said. "Seth Andreas. He remains inside the estate."
Silence followed.
The leader turned slightly, eyes never leaving the distant mansion.
"Location?"
"Upper quarters," came the reply. "Second floor. Eastern side. Minimal personal guard. No escort observed."
The leader exhaled slowly.
That confirmed it.
The rumors were accurate.
The weakest link had been left behind.
Their objective was clear.
"Seth Andreas," the leader said. "That is our target."
He turned fully now, facing his unit.
"Only one of you will go after him."
No surprise crossed their faces.
This was expected.
"The rest," he continued, "will destabilize the estate. Confusion. Panic. Noise where it matters."
A subtle shift passed through the group—not excitement, but readiness.
"Do not kill indiscriminately," the leader said. "Draw guards. Break formation. Force response."
He looked at them one by one.
"We are not here to butcher. We are here to isolate."
His gaze settled on a single assassin.
"You."
The chosen operative rose slightly.
"You will handle the target."
A nod.
No hesitation.
No questions.
"You will not engage unless necessary," the leader added. "Confirm identity. Confirm vulnerability. Eliminate cleanly."
The assassin bowed once.
The leader turned back toward the estate.
"Positions," he said quietly.
They dispersed instantly.
The first disruption came near the southern garden.
A shadow dropped from the wall, landing silently behind a lone sentry. A sharp strike to the neck—not lethal, but precise. The guard collapsed, unconscious before he could cry out.
A moment later, a lantern shattered against stone.
Glass broke.
Light died.
A shout followed.
"Hey did you hear that?"
Movement spread.
Elsewhere, a window burst inward, smoke flooding a servant corridor. Screams erupted as staff scattered. Guards rushed to respond, boots pounding stone.
Steel rang.
Commands were shouted.
Formation fractured.
In the eastern wing, a door was forced open. A patrol engaged what they thought was a single intruder only to be struck from behind by another shadow. Two guards fell. A third raised his sword and was disarmed before he could swing.
Not killed.
Left alive but shaken.
The estate was awake now.
Chaos bloomed outward, deliberate and controlled.
And in the confusion
One assassin moved alone.
He entered through a narrow service passage, slipping past the noise and urgency like a ghost walking through a storm. His movements were economical, silent, every step memorized from earlier observation.
He ascended the stairs without touching the railing.
Turned left.
Counted doors.
Stopped.
This was it.
Seth Andreas' quarters.
The assassin slowed.
Listened.
Breathing.
One heartbeat inside.
No guards.
No wards that he could detect.
Strange.
Too easy.
He reached for the handle.
Paused.
Something felt… off.
The air was still.
Not the quiet of sleep.
The quiet of anticipation.
The assassin withdrew his hand and shifted position, flattening himself against the wall. He waited.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
No alarm.
No sound.
He inhaled once controlled and made his decision.
The door opened.
Elsewhere in the estate, the havoc continued.
Guards clashed with shadows they could barely track. Orders overlapped. Signals conflicted. The mansion's defenses strained under unfamiliar pressure.
But beneath it all
Something else moved.
Not loudly.
Not visibly.
The plan had begun.
The Nightfall Assassins were inside.
And somewhere within the estate, unseen and unmoving, Seth Andreas listened.