Chapter 193: The perfect assassin.

Yennefer took a deep breath, watching the horizon as she approached the old warehouse where Viktor Blackthorn, known as the "Accountant," was hiding.

After notifying Evelyn and Lyana about what needed to be done and the next steps, she was confident she could finish everything without trouble...

From the information she had, he was indeed a powerful man, but only in wealth. Individual strength? He was just a fox to be hunted.

However, he was always surrounded by loyal guards and mercenaries. But that night, Yennefer would be his downfall.

The warehouse rose before her like a heavy and imposing shadow. Built from old stone, it had been turned into an improvised fortress.

The windows were sealed with wooden beams reinforced with iron, and the only visible entrances were two heavy doors, one at the front and another at the back, both heavily guarded.

Around the warehouse, several improvised watchtowers had been erected, with archers ready to eliminate any threat.

"So many people..." she murmured, crouching behind a pile of debris, her eyes scanning every detail of the structure and the surrounding area.

Her senses were on high alert. The shadows danced under the torchlight, and she could see the pattern of the guards' movements in the towers and on the ground.

It was tight surveillance, but not perfect. She spotted a few gaps – a shift change, the moment when the archers were distracted watching the patrols, and a blind spot between the watchtowers.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, hatred burning in her chest. Although Yennefer wasn't as vengeful as Cristine, her twin sister, the hate in her heart was clear.

He had hidden behind numbers, coins, and accounts, but now Yennefer was here to settle her own debt, in blood, just as they had taken her mother's life.

Nothing else mattered.

"Breathe, Yennefer," she whispered to herself, the words almost carried away by the cold night wind. She was alone, but that was what she did best.

Kill, from the shadows, without alerting anyone, without leaving a trace.

She pulled up her hood, hiding her face, and adjusted the leather belt holding her blades.

The daggers, sharp as the claws of a beast, were in her hands before she even realized. One of them was particularly special—a silver blade, a gift from someone long gone, the dagger of the Original Assassin Queen... her mother.

She took another deep breath...

With a swift motion, she began to move forward, merging with the darkness.

She followed the western side of the warehouse, where the guards seemed less concentrated. It wasn't by chance; she already knew that was the most vulnerable area.

The west side guard had a flaw—the tower's coverage didn't fully reach the warehouse's base. The space between the tower and the stone wall was narrow enough for her to squeeze through and advance unseen.

This was clearly desperation. All because of General Kryssia, these careful and meticulous men had dug their own graves.

The soldiers, heavily armed, patrolled the area with discipline, but Yennefer was used to such obstacles. Silence was her armor, and darkness her best ally. She moved without making the slightest sound, as if she were part of the night itself. Each step was calculated, each breath carefully controlled.

Upon reaching the nearest tower, one of the guards was distracted, gazing at the horizon.

Yennefer slid behind them, and with a swift, silent movement, she stabbed one in the heart and slashed the other's throat.

She knew she couldn't stop.

Blackthorn was somewhere inside, and every second wasted was a risk. She pressed on deeper into the warehouse, where the torchlights grew brighter, indicating she was getting closer to her target.

Finally, she spotted what seemed to be an isolated room in the center of the warehouse. Two guards stood in front of the door, looking more alert than the others. They knew this was the most important place to protect. But Yennefer also knew that this would be her last barrier before reaching Viktor Blackthorn.

She withdrew two smaller daggers, one in each hand, and waited. One of the guards moved, walking over to adjust a torch on the wall. It was the perfect moment. Yennefer threw both daggers at once, each embedding themselves into the guards' chests before they could react. They collapsed to the floor in silence, and Yennefer approached the door.

She took a deep breath, feeling her heart race. She was close. The fury and hatred she had kept bottled up for so long were on the verge of exploding. But she knew she had to stay calm.

She pushed the door, which creaked softly, and entered.

Viktor Blackthorn was there, sitting in a luxurious armchair, looking over a stack of papers and account books on the table in front of him. He didn't seem surprised to see her. In fact, he smiled.

"I knew someone would come," he said, his voice cold and controlled. "How's the situation, Black Dagger?" He asked, mistaking Yennefer for Cristine due to their resemblance, looking at her with no concern and his guard down.

Yennefer smiled, but her smile was filled with a silent and deadly hatred. The fact that Viktor Blackthorn had confused her identity amused her, and she could only laugh at how foolish the man was, though no sound escaped her lips from beneath the hood.

"Black Dagger?" Yennefer repeated, her voice as soft as the night wind, stepping forward. "That's not exactly my name, but I guess that doesn't matter, does it, Viktor?"

Viktor raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. He frowned, as if trying to recognize who stood before him. His initial carelessness slowly gave way to a sense of discomfort, but he was still far from feeling afraid.

"Who...?" he began to ask, but Yennefer interrupted, taking another step closer.

"Goodbye," she said, her voice now carrying a venomous threat beneath its softness. "You should remember that profits don't always come first."

Viktor's eyes narrowed, finally realizing that this was no simple threat. But before he could react, Yennefer was already in motion. Like a shadow, she drew two of her sharp blades and threw them with deadly precision. The daggers sliced through the air with a hiss, pinning Viktor's hands to the wooden table in front of him.

"UUUGHHH!" he screamed in shock and pain, the account books falling from his blood-stained fingers. Viktor's face twisted in agony as he struggled to free himself, but he was firmly trapped. "You... you damn...!"

"Silence," Yennefer commanded coldly, stepping toward him. "I've heard enough from men like you. Calculating, arrogant, thinking the world can be shaped to your whims. But today, Viktor, you pay the price."

Viktor's eyes were wide with terror now. He knew he was cornered, with no one to save him. Blood flowed from the daggers lodged in his hands, and he was helpless, trapped at the table like an animal for slaughter.

Yennefer stopped in front of him, her eyes gleaming. She grabbed his chin forcefully, making him look at her.

"You know, Viktor," she whispered, her voice low but dripping with venom. "You never cared about the people you destroyed. You never thought one day they'd come for you. You thought you were above it all, protected by your coins, your accounts... But now, all of that ends."

He tried to mumble something, perhaps a plea, but Yennefer wasn't interested in hearing it. She released him and stepped back, watching him with contempt. "I'll leave you to agonize for a few more minutes so you can think about all the lives you destroyed. Enjoy this final moment, Viktor. You'll wish you had never underestimated the fury of someone who has lost everything."

She said, grabbing a nearby simple knife and slashing his throat.

Blood began to pour over his clothes as he desperately tried to free himself, attempting to stop the bleeding... But it was too late.

Yennefer turned and walked towards the exit, her steady footsteps echoing across the warehouse floor as the sound of Viktor's muffled screams faded into the distance.