CHAPTER HUNDRED AND NINETY - FOUR - A THREAT TOO FOOLISH.

In the heart of a cave, warriors stand ready in the expansive training grounds. Shadows dance on the walls as the flames from torches cast a flickering light on their hardened faces and sweat-soaked bodies. The warriors launch into action, their movements swift and fluid as they spar with one another. Grunts, growls, and the clang of metal fill the air, a cacophony of primal energy. Meanwhile, in a deeper recess of the cave, the assassins move with a different purpose. The air around them is silent, the only sounds coming from their footsteps, barely audible on the stone floor. They glide across the shadows like phantoms, honing their skills of stealth and subterfuge. One by one, they disappear into the darkness, emerging only to strike an unsuspecting target before fading back into the shadows. Their instructor watches from the sidelines, his eyes betraying no emotion, as if he were studying a particularly complex chess game. His voice, low and steady, is the only thing that break