Chapter 22 Chapter 22 Killing has never been our goal...

As usual, Elio briefly reported to Alvin the results of his assassination and his gains. Neumann was dead, and Elio finally found Willow's whereabouts from his memories, and also found a string of Templar chains.

"I'm going to clean them out." The assassin's apprentice added the target to the message board. "If you're interested, you can help me."

Alvin watched Elio's drawing of the assassination target with great interest, but soon his mentor's expression turned into one of wanting to say something but stopping.

"Is this the man you saw in his memories?" he confirmed.

"Yes. Very vivid, isn't it?"

“But all you draw are stick figures.”

"Obviously, they all have two arms, two legs, and a head," Elio said seriously.

Alvin folded his arms. Under his mentor's gaze, Elio couldn't help but laugh, finally adding the details of the figure's physical features and features.

“I tried,” Elio said as he wrote, “but I couldn’t even recognize the faces I drew. So I thought maybe it would be better if I just wrote down the descriptions until we could find names to match their faces.”

"I really should have accelerated your writing lessons," Alvin stroked his chin, "but your schedule seems to be already full."

"yes."

Elio finished his stunning stick figure Templar masterpiece and lost himself in thought as he gazed at the information board filled with assassination targets. Alvin stood beside him, scanning the records of the assassins one by one. Soon, his attention shifted to a Templar attached to him.

This was a very special matchstick… a Templar. Behind the circles and lines, traces of a figure's portrait seemed to remain, but Elio had erased them. But even more unusual, this stick figure had no label beneath it, yet a name was written on it.

Leopold Mitchell.

"Who is this?" Alvin asked.

He simply pointed at the name casually, and when Elio glanced over, the assassin's apprentice's face suddenly changed, and he reached out to cover the name. His movement was so quick that he accidentally opened his mentor's arm.

silence.

He shouldn't have let his mentor see that name. Elio's heart raced. But he was so used to telling Alvin everything that he hadn't inadvertently let his thoughts drift to the message board. He was aware of the stark contradiction between the Templars and the Assassins, and that he and Leopold had become irreconcilable enemies, but he still couldn't imagine plunging his sword into his old friend's heart.

He could not look directly into Leopold's sad eyes, even if it was just his imagination; even though he knew very well that being kind to the enemy was being cruel to himself.

What would Alvin say to this? Would he rebuke his own weakness? Would he order himself to murder his enemy and eliminate the trouble?

Or, he will...

Elio's fingers trembled slightly. Alvin's scrutinizing gaze shifted from there to Elio's suddenly grim expression. His mentor could see the young man's thoughts clearly. With a suspicion in mind, Alvin withdrew his hand and nonchalantly squeezed Elio's tense shoulder.

"You can keep your mouth shut, little one," said Alvin gently. "You can keep your secret, and I won't act until you do."

Elio glanced hesitantly at his mentor. As Alvin watched patiently, the apprentice gradually loosened his grip.

"…I thought you wanted me to eliminate all the Templars," he said huskily.

On the information board, the place where the names were written had been smeared by the sweat of the assassin's palms.

"Killing has never been our goal," Alvin denied, "but a last resort."

Elio didn't answer immediately. They stared at the figures on the message board in silence, the scribbled stick figures no longer able to evoke laughter from them.

Behind every stick figure is a life.

The blood of revenge once stained the white eagle feathers of the Masyaf Assassins and wet the handkerchiefs shaken from the arms of the London Assassins; while it made medals on the shoulders of every Master Assassin, it also left numerous whip marks on their consciences - surprisingly, the Master Assassins with "numerous evil deeds" all had their arms filled with virtues contrary to their reputations.

"If there's a better way than killing, never draw your hidden blade." Alvin held Elio's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "If, and I'm just saying if, you think someone is winnable..."

The young apprentice couldn't help but look surprised, and his mentor smiled and released his hand.

"If our goal is to annihilate one side, our war with the Templars will never end," Alvin said. "Men can be killed, clans can be burned, nations can be overthrown, but ideals and beliefs can never be erased..."

Having said that, he sighed, but it was unclear whether it was out of regret or admiration.

"It's complicated, but you'll understand," Alvin said.

“…He used to be my friend,” Elio said hesitantly. “He wasn’t a bad person, at least not in my memory.”

"Then don't make him your target for now," Alvin confirmed. "Find a chance to talk to him. As long as you don't accidentally get yourself killed, I have no objection."

Elio finally smiled.

"I also want to tell you about the memory fragments I saw." He easily hooked his arm around Alvin's shoulders. "Honestly, most people deserve to die, but I think..."

It's true that not all Templars were evil, even by Assassin standards.

The path that the Father of Understanding showed them did not lead to sin from the beginning, but the unchanging, hereditary order would always fall into the abyss of power and corruption, just as wild and unrestrained freedom would also evolve into the chaos of chaos.

In this concept that entwines itself like a double helix, the Templars and Assassins sometimes fight, sometimes join forces, and move forward side by side forever.

Young Mitchell, a new Templar, still unaware of the fate that hung around his neck, wandered through the corridors, preoccupied with worries about the Assassins (both good and bad). Only when he reached his father's door did Leopold remember that one of his father's secret meetings was taking place there.

But before he left, the guards at the door told him he could come in. They opened the door and watched the young Templar step into the darkness.

The gust of wind he created swayed the candle flame. A sudden silence fell in the room, followed by a murmur. In the dim light, faces familiar to Leopold were gathered around the table, some real, some projected, all looking surprised by his arrival.

His father was standing at the other end of the long table, waving his hand in the darkness.

The whispers gradually died down. Bewildered, Leopold tried to read his father's expression, but he couldn't even see his face in the darkness. He moved toward Mitchell, but his father waved his hand again, refusing his son's approach. The young Templar paused, puzzled, and looked around.

They seemed to be standing in some sort of order. Leopold observed them and then retreated obediently. He had not been a Templar for long enough to stand by his father's side.

"Come here, little Michèle."

A hushed voice rescued him from his predicament. Leopold breathed a sigh of relief and approached the Templar who had spoken. The flickering candlelight illuminated a familiar face, and Leopold recognized it as Galahad from the banquet. The dark-haired, blue-eyed Templar nodded, saying nothing more, and not meeting his questioning gaze.

They were all silent, waiting.

Until the heavy doors opened again. Leopold was surprised to see a young girl striding in. The sunlight streaming in through the corridor windows briefly adorned her golden hair, casting a brilliant crown of light. The wind she brought in was stronger than the one Leopold had brought in before, and the candle flames danced violently, swaying upwards.

In that dazzling light, the young girl stopped at the end of the table. The door closed again, and the room returned to darkness. But the light in her eyes did not leave, darting across their faces before finally settling into the darkness beyond.

"Will you swear to uphold our doctrine and everything we stand for?" Mitchell said in the darkness.

"I do," said the young girl.

"Never reveal our secrets, nor reveal the content of our mission?"

"I do."

"At any cost—until death?"

"I do."

"Then welcome to our order, Miss Willow Walker." Mitchell stepped out of the darkness and spread his arms. "You are now a Knight Templar."

This was an ancient initiation rite, Leopold discovered with amazement.

"May the Father of Understanding guide us," his father gestured.

They spoke in unison. The Templar faith echoed through the dark room, young, old, low, high... their voices flooded with prayers to the Father of Understanding.

"—may the Father of Understanding guide us!"

The flames of the oath cast a dim shadow on their faces.

·

"I might recognize their faces." Alvin rubbed his chin. "Why don't you sort out their detailed features, and I'll mobilize others to find a way to verify their true identities."

"Others?" Elio asked casually while concentrating on sorting out the documents.

"Uh-huh." Alvin pulled out his phone. "We've got plenty of people, kid. You'll figure that out."

They managed to fill the information board with names and photos. Six unidentified stick figures were marked with black question marks. Alvin pressed them and repeatedly emphasized that the apprentices must strictly confirm their identities. At the very least, they should notify him before any assassination attempt.

"Don't kill your own people by mistake." Alvin was still frightened.

Elio, who was forced to reassure himself and almost swore to the Creed, rolled his eyes and said, "I have already completed the main storyline of the Great Revolution, Alvin. I know what you are worried about."

Two of the Templars were assassinated by Elio, including Dr. Blackwood and Dean Neumann, who were marked with a bright red cross.

After some discussion, Alvin confirmed that the Templar Elio had seen was Gotham's Quinn Jr., and stated that Batman had imprisoned him in Blackgate Prison. Elio pondered for a moment and placed a red question mark over his picture.

The assassins would keep an eye on him. Elio knew the rules of Gotham too well. Even if he was sent to Blackgate Prison, those bastards would always find a way to bail him out. They came in and out, chatting and laughing, as if they were playing a game that would never die.

Little Quinn certainly thought so. He had luckily escaped the vigilante's baton and the assassin's hidden blade, his reputation for luck, inherited from his father, becoming even more resounding. Blackgate Prison certainly couldn't hold him. After some maneuvering, he triumphantly walked out of the prison gates and climbed into his men's car.

The sky over Gotham grew increasingly gray, as if it was going to rain. Quinn, in a cheerful mood, didn't notice this, nor did he notice the shadow of death hovering over his head.

The author has something to say:

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*The Templar initiation oath dialogue is from Rogue One.

**Elio's List:

1. Dr. Blackwood (conducted human experiments, deceased)

2. Dean Neumann (in charge of human experiment projects, deceased)

3. Little Quinn (the leader of Gotham's small-scale gangs, arrested and imprisoned and then released, ongoing)

4-9 to be announced.