Vessa launched herself forward, a blur of motion. Her twin stilettos, obsidian shards with silver hilts, arced forward. One struck for his throat, the other aimed directly for his heart. Tavvio, still holding the butter spreader, froze, a helpless civilian facing a seasoned predator. He braced for the searing pain, the final, agonizing breath. But the pain never came. The dagger aimed at his throat simply *passed through* him, the tip emerging harmlessly from the back of his neck, yet drawing no blood, leaving no mark. The second blade, destined for his chest, vanished into his torso as if he were made of mist, reappearing an instant later, protruding from his spine. Tavvio blinked, a faint tickle the only sensation. He could feel the cool metal of the hilt pressing against his sternum, the sharp edge of the blade, somehow, *inside* him, yet it wasn’t cutting. Vessa stumbled back, her grip on the hilts momentarily faltering. Her usually impassive face, honed by years of silent kills, contorted into a frown of utter bewilderment. “What in the…?” she muttered, yanking the blades free. They slid out of Tavvio’s body with a soft *schlink*, leaving not a single rip in his simple baker’s tunic. He rotated his head, then poked his chest, confirming the impossible. [NOTICE: ‘Tome of the Null-Space’ (Quest Item, Level 500) equipped. Player character ‘Tavvio_Bkr’ (Level 1) experiencing extreme hit-box desynchronization. Damage immunity effect: 99.99%. Expected duration: Indefinite until item unequipped or server reset.] Tavvio rubbed his chest. “Oh, right,” he murmured, remembering the heavy tome clutched under his arm. “I guess I’m pretty sturdy now? Must be the old book.” He glanced at Vessa, who stood frozen, steel still bared, but her fingers twitching just faintly. Her dark eyes, usually so sharp, seemed clouded with confusion, and a strange, almost hungry look. She looked… cranky. “You alright there?” Tavvio asked, genuinely concerned. “You seem a bit off. Are you… feeling weak? Low blood sugar, maybe?” He frowned. “You know, that often happens when you skip breakfast.” Vessa stared, her brain attempting to process the baffling exchange. *Low blood sugar? This man just shrugged off a dual assassination attempt!* The sheer audacity, the bewildering kindness in his voice, short-circuited her trained responses. She’d faced warlords, beasts, mages of fearsome power, but never had a target offered her nutritional advice post-stabbing. “Breakfast?” she managed, her voice a low growl that lacked any real menace. Tavvio nodded earnestly. “Hold on.” He reached for a warm crescent roll, golden-brown and still steaming, from a cooling rack on the counter. He offered it to her, his open palm presenting the baked treat. “Fresh out of the oven. A little flaky, but it’ll fix you right up.” The aroma of butter and yeast filled the small bakery, a stark contrast to the scent of burnt lye and grease Vessa usually encountered. She looked from the innocent roll to Tavvio’s guileless face, then back to the golden crust. Her weapons felt heavy, useless. Her mission, to eliminate the anomaly who had breached the vault, suddenly seemed… rude. “I… I cannot accept,” she stammered, her voice unexpectedly softer than she intended. She was a lethal operative, not a blushing apprentice. The heat creeping up her neck felt foreign, embarrassing. The man wasn't just invulnerable; he was disarmingly, foolishly *nice*. “Nonsense!” Tavvio insisted, gently pushing the roll into her hand. “You look like you need it more than I do. Besides,” he added with a sheepish grin, “it’s still warm. Best eaten fresh.” Vessa’s fingers brushed his as she took the roll. The baked heat seeped into her cold knuckles. She stared at it, then hesitantly took a bite. The crisp shell yielded to soft, buttery dough. It was, she had to admit, spectacularly good. Before Vessa could process being disarmed by a baker who had just shrugged off two mortal strikes, the shop door splintered under a sudden kick. Shards of splintered oak flew across the room, narrowly missing Tavvio’s head and embedding themselves in the far wall. Through the gaping hole stepped a woman of extravagant bearing, dressed in silken robes shimmering with embedded glow-gems, her dark hair woven with intricate gold braids. Oshni, leader of the illustrious Star-Guild Merchants, surveyed the chaos with an imperious, almost gleeful, expression. “The vault’s energy surge! I tracked it right to this location!” Oshni declared, her voice ringing with authority. Her gaze swept over the scene: the destroyed door, Tavvio standing calmly amidst the wreckage, the formidable Vessa – known for her ruthlessness – holding a half-eaten croissant and looking utterly flustered. Oshni tilted her head, a predatory gleam entering her expression. “And a Spire assassin, tamed with… baked dough? My, my. The rumors of a new market disruptor were clearly understated.” She took another step, her gaze settling on Tavvio with an intensity that made the bakery feel suddenly small. “A hostile takeover, then? Breaking into the vault, stealing a relic, rendering yourself untouchable, *and* neutralizing elite opposition with baked goods? A stroke of genius, I admit. Unconventional, but incredibly effective.” She clapped her hands, a sound like silk ripping. “I want him. Name your price, you brilliant brute. I’ll buy out your entire operation, every last crumb of your assets, and bring you into the Star-Guild. You’ll be the centerpiece of my personal acquisitions, and my harem. A position of unparalleled influence, darling.” Vessa choked on her bite, coughing up buttery crumbs. Tavvio, utterly bewildered, raised his hands. “Harem? Acquisitions? I just… I just wanted to pick up my butter knife! I’m a baker!” “Silence, you magnificent strategist!” Oshni purred, striding closer, her gaze unwavering. “Such feigned humility! It only makes you more desirable.” Just then, a frantic, winded voice echoed from the shattered doorway. “Grandmaster! I’ve finally caught up!” Rillan, the Pompira Spire’s Chosen One, stumbled through the doorframe, his pristine uniform slightly disheveled, his blonde hair a little wild. He skidded to a halt, taking in the scene: the legendary Oshni, renowned for cutthroat contracts, offering partnerships to a baker, while Vessa, an operative of whispered legend, stood beside him nibbling breakfast. Tavvio, unblemished, stood in the center of it all, looking utterly perplexed. Rillan’s jaw went slack. “You… you truly are a profound grandmaster!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. He dropped to his knees, robes fluttering around him. “To tame the very titans of commerce and conflict with such effortless grace! To make them… *vie* for your attention! The wisdom of your pacifist path is beyond mortal comprehension! Teach me, master! Let me be your humble disciple!” [ERROR! Main Quest Sequence Broken. Entity 'Rillan_CsnOne' attempting to re-route primary narrative. Protocol Violation: 'Heroic Journey: The Ascendance of Rillan' now invalid. Initiating Purge Entity [Rillan] sequence.]

Assassination by Pastry