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"For thousands of years, I thought this title had already been forgotten by assassins."
"Without our restraint, your power ran unchecked. You destroyed order and replaced it with a set of dark laws."
"But when darkness blankets the land, the Templars will guard the final spark of light. We will protect the last remnants of order-and eventually let the light cover the world again."
"We failed once."
"But this time, we will not."
"Tell them, Sloan. Tell all of them."
"Whether they are killers who abandoned the Creed entirely, or assassins still clinging to so-called Fate."
"The Templars have returned."
Morin didn't wait for Sloan's reaction.
He hung up.
"Phew..." Morin let out a breath, feeling his face warm slightly.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
"I actually made it through a full chuunibyou speech."
He nodded to himself.
"Next time, I'll do even better."
Morin was already deliberately pushing his tolerance for embarrassment, preparing for what was coming next.
"Alright. That's done."
He glanced around, confirming no one else was alive.
Then, in a flash, he opened the office door and left the way he came.
Morin didn't have credentials for the company.
But with his physical abilities and his [Beginner Stealth Skills], moving through this poorly guarded pharmaceutical company was effortless.
In and out. Like a ghost.
How could a proper Templar-an enemy of assassins-not know stealth?
That would be unreasonable.
If you mastered it properly, everything made sense.
"Come to think of it..." Morin muttered.
"The Continental Hotel. The High Table."
"They actually split off from the Fraternity of Assassins?"
"This just got a lot more interesting..."
...
On the other side, Sloan took a long moment to recover.
He dialed the number back.
"All you have dialed-"
The phone was already powered off.
"Templars..." Sloan's expression darkened.
As the leader of the Brotherhood, he naturally knew of their existence.
But according to every record, the Templars had been completely defeated-eradicated-by the Fraternity of Assassins many years ago.
Could it be...
That they were never truly wiped out?
That they survived in the shadows, slowly rebuilding, waiting until now-when they finally believed they had a chance?
The more Sloan thought about it, the heavier his chest felt.
His hand moved instinctively to his phone, scrolling to the number of the High Table's leader.
Then he stopped.
"Not yet..."
"There's no concrete proof."
"Going to him like this would be humiliating."
"I need to investigate first."
"Once I'm sure... then I'll contact him."
Sloan knew his formal status was roughly equal to that of the High Table's "Elder."
But in reality, his power was far weaker.
After the Fraternity of Assassins defeated the Templars and seized their assets, division was inevitable.
Some assassins remained loyal to the Creed.
Others quietly accepted bounties and chased profit.
That was normal.
Many people claimed to have faith.
Very few could keep it when faced with comfort and wealth.
Most only talked.
So the assassins split.
They knew each other too well to risk another war.
A second internal conflict would only benefit outsiders.
Thus, the Fraternity peacefully divided.
One half became the High Table-above everything.
Over the years, the Creed-bound Fraternity weakened.
The High Table, abandoning faith entirely and becoming a pure killer organization, flourished.
It rose to dominate the underground world.
So dominant that even when Continental Hotels openly appeared in major cities, the police dared not interfere.
Killers became a term of terror.
Murder in the street went unanswered.
And the true assassins could only watch their influence fade.
Sloan forged commands from the Loom for two reasons.
Money.
And status.
He knew that if this continued, even if his name remained respected, his authority would shrink-until it was swallowed by others.
"For now..." Sloan shook his head.
"One step at a time."
He scrolled through his contacts and stopped on Fox's name.
"I'll start by figuring out what's really going on."
"Ring-ring."
Fox stared at her phone.
A trace of hesitation flickered in her eyes.
She knew that if she answered, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from asking.
And hearing the answer she already knew-but didn't want to accept.
The information Morin gave her was too detailed.
Too complete.
She couldn't find a single flaw.
And Carlos had produced the cloth bearing Sloan's cipher from the Loom.
With that evidence, denial was impossible.
"...Sloan?" Fox answered.
As an Assassin Master, her status was only slightly below his.
Calling him by name was acceptable.
"Fox," Sloan said. He frowned.
She wasn't acting. She had no reason to.
The cold distance in her voice was unmistakable.
"Did something go wrong with last night's mission?"
"Yes."
"What happened?" Sloan pressed. "Why did the person chosen by Fate escape?"
"Because someone stopped me."
"Who?"
"I don't know who he really is," Fox said.
"But he called himself... a Templar."
"What?"
Sloan's eyes widened.
"It seems you already know," Fox continued.
"Then tell me, Sloan."
"Everything he said about the Brotherhood. About the Templar Order."
"Is it all true?"
"We must follow Fate," Sloan said heavily.
"There is no right or wrong. Only faith."
"Back then, a Templar Elder's name appeared on the Loom. We had no choice!"
"That's not what I'm asking," Fox said coldly.
"I'll return and ask you in person."
"Our ancestors' actions can't be judged."
"But if you betrayed Fate-"
"I will correct your mistake."
"I will send you..."
"...to meet your fate."