Assassin Creed Arno Dorian Novels & Stories

The man was smoking a thick stick of cigarette, and he let out a puff of smoke, his voice muffled by the mask. "So you are saying that Ophelia Storm isn't faking her amnesia?" The female nodded, clearing her throat. "Yes, Warrior. I had never seen her that afraid, and her husband believes that her attack was because of him." The man stared into the moonlight for a while, and then turned around, taking slow steps towards the female assassin who held her breath. Gently, he lifted the burning cigarette and pushed the butt into her skin, rolling it around slowly. "If you've made a mistake, and the order is exposed because of you, I will kill you, after I take out your weakness in front of you. W

Johnny said when he saw that all the girls were already with the men who had just arrived. I kept looking down, glancing from time to time at the faces of the armed guys, watching as they lit cigarettes and poured liquor from their bottles. “Do you want a drink?” Dorian told me. I turned to see him, meeting his eyes again, but this time closer. It is assumed that he was waiting for me to see him change like the previous time, but I only looked at a pair of black eyes, slightly slanted; His Asian ancestry was obvious, which made me even more nervous.

It wasn’t just another assassin. No. This was something worse. Almost like a demon from hell. The remaining attackers stilled, their movements halting as if waiting for something. Or someone. And then— The doorway darkened. A tall figure stepped inside, his presence swallowing the room whole. He was clad in black, his silver eyes gleaming like ice under the dim light. The other assassins shifted, making space, lowering their weapons. Respect. Reverence. Fear. I knew him before he even spoke. Dorian’s right-hand beta. It had been ages since I last saw him. But his reputation was one of a kind.

Her presence steels my nerves. We reach the clearing. The cave yawns open like a hungry mouth, and the enemy waits. Rogues. Dozens. No masks. No mercy. They form a living barricade around the cave mouth like sentries of hell. And Dorian stands among them. He looks different. Taller. Pale. Something… inhuman. “You’re late,” he drawls. “Touch him and you die,” I bark to my warriors. “He’s mine.” Dorian raises the perfume vial and sprays it across his neck like it’s cologne, not corruption.

Dorian was fighting against Achilles, the strongest expert known to the west, the the God of War of the Divine Clan. Although Dorian, the number one in the last heavenly leaderboard, just began to display his talent in the Inuit's Incident, after entering Heaven's Gate, he had made great achievement in the battlefield of Heaven’s Gate in the past two decades. In terms of talent and abilities, only Little Apple could suppress Dorian. The rest were almost no match for Dorian. Some even said that Dorian would be the first person in the east in the future, putting aside Jason. By this time, Dorian had already had such a potential. He had already surpassed Herbert and Ava.

Dorian's POV It was a good thing that it was late and the street was deserted. Either way, I wasn't taking chances. I had to get him off the road before someone saw us and misconstrued the situation. I did a quick search on him for a weapon and found a gun in his jacket. I looked down to see that it was a suppressed .22. Just the right kind of weapon an assassin would use. “So you were planning to kill me with this, good thing I got to you first. You must be an amateur to fuck up this badly.”

His eyes had gone distant—fixed on something only he seemed to understand. The corridor doors behind them shattered inward. Not opened. Broken. A unit stepped through. Black armor. Council insignia. Suppression blades humming with unstable resonance. Designed for one purpose: Containment of awakened bloodlines. Or elimination. And behind them— he arrived. High Arbiter Dorian Vex. Calm. Controlled. Absolute authority in human form. He did not look at anyone first. He looked toward the direction of the chamber below. As if he could already feel her.

Caspian said with a grin as he folded his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not out to spar with the prince, my lord?” Kael didn’t even look at him. “And correction, Dio is an Armani. He’s not a Romanov.” “I stand corrected, okay.” Caspian smirk when he saw that the two had a serious yet friendly atmosphere. Dio pulled his daggers from the sheath hanging on his waist while Arthur made a vine and make it sharper as a sword.

“Or… maybe you recognize me. Maybe you remember the way you felt back in my hotel room… when there weren't any masks between us.” Barbara’s breath caught, but she forced her face to stay still… her split personalities, the professional assassin, fighting the woman who wanted to push him right down onto the marble and ride the fuck out of him till she was writhing in ecstasy, the people gathered around them be damned. “Why do you seem hellbent on making me into someone I’m not?” Barbie could feel a bit of irritation building. She didn’t know if it was towards him or herself. “Instinct,” he said, spinning her into a slow, dizzying circle. “I tend to have a very good one… especially about dange

And Dimitrios was stubborn as hell whenever the discussion of letting go of Iris came to the table. Dimitrios returned to his room and sat on the bed after the entire day's work. He was tired as hell because of all the incidents that were happening. He had to take care of Derek. Because keeping him alive was no longer needed. But Iris's sudden outburst made him stunned today. He could never believe that the girl could just run and snatch the gun to kill another one. Who was he kidding actually? The same girl tried to kill him two years back when she had lost her parents. Derek might be right to some certain extent that an Assassin would always remain an Assassin. Because that is what runs in