Chapter I: The Crimson Ghost

He knew the very moment he laid his eyes on her that she was not a normal woman.

For one instance, no woman he knew was able to take down a garrison of soldiers armed to the teeth as if they were nothing but a bunch of buzzing flies. And like fly's, she swatted them with ease. To say he was impressed would have been an understatement. Most of these men were at least twice her size and carried weapons that weighed about as much as her. Yet it didn't seem to matter to her how big they or their weapons were. Like a scythe through a field of wheat, she mowed down their ranks with little effort. Her quick and precise strikes shattered both metal and bone. Helmets broke, armor was punctured, and limbs were bent in angles he didn't think was possible. Their weapons – large or small – weren't of any use to them as she proved to be too fast to hit. They may as well have been trying to swing at a fired arrow. She didn't just move, she soared. Her movements were fluid like water in a winding river yet they hit with the force of a charging bull. None of them stood a chance.

The whole fight – if it could even be called that – lasted no more than a minute. When all was said and done, she sheathed her swords and walked away. Not once did she ever spare a glance at the dozens of highly trained soldiers writing on the ground in agony as if they were messily recruits who had barely survived their first day of training. That was another thing he noticed about her. She didn't kill her opponents. Sure she reduced them to bloody and broken messes on the ground but she never killed. Whether they be soldiers, bandits, pirates, or slavers. No matter who they were, she never went for a killing blow. That was one of the few things about her that confused him. Sure, he never killed everyone he fought, but he still made sure to kill those who truly deserved it. But she never did. Soldiers he could understand. They were just doing their jobs. But people like slavers and bandits? They hurt and killed innocent people simply because they could. They didn't have any right to live when they so callously robbed people blind and treated them like they were nothing more than garbage.

But she didn't seem to care.

No matter how many evils she saw these people commit, she still never resorted to killing. When it came to slavers, she simply beat them to a bloody pulp before freeing the slaves. Bandits, she just left bleeding on the ground. Not even the dozens of mercenaries that wanted to collect her head for a hefty sum had been killed. Simply left in the same conditions she had given to so many others. Amazingly enough, none of the mercenaries she had beaten had ever tried to come back again for her bounty. And he wasn't exaggerating when he said that her bounty was one of the largest he had ever seen. The fact that these mercenaries – who by all rights were supposed to be some of the most fearless rogue warriors in Greece – weren't willing to fight this young woman even for enough drachmae to have them set for life was honestly more than a little disturbing to him.

Yes, she definitely wasn't a normal woman. Then again, it wasn't like he was the picture perfect representation of normal either. He did kill people with a broken magical spear after all.

However it wasn't simply the way she fought that intrigued him. No, the one thing that made her stand out the most was her hair. It was the color of blood.

The first time Alexios saw her was at the Monger's warehouse in Korinthia. He had been on his way to burn the supplies stashed there in order to further loosen the iron grip the madman had around city's throat when he suddenly heard the commotion near the docks where the warehouse was located. He was thoroughly surprised to see various people running and screaming in the opposite direction as the warehouse burned to the ground. From the front entrance came a woman dressed in a leather cloak which covered worn-looking armor. He could also see two swords strapped to her person. Despite the fact that she had just emerged from a burning building, there wasn't a single patch or soot or ash on her person. Her face was set into a sotne cold expression as she walked out of the courtyard, not at all concerned with the numerous bodyguards that were strewn across the ground writhing in agony. The last thing he saw was her bright red hair before she reached out a pulled a hood over her head, effectively hiding her face from sight. He didn't get any further chances to see her as she broke out into a sprint and disappeared from sight behind the large crowd of people that were gathering and watching the commotion with various forms of shock and awe. Some were even cheering. It seemed the woman chose the right time to vanish from sight as the city guards came running towards the burning structure and started pushing the civilians away from the area.

"So that was the Crimson Ghost," a male voice said behind him. He turned around and was surprised to see a man dressed in standard-issued Spartan armor along with a spear and shield that were both strapped to his back. "I had heard rumors but thought them to be just drunk fantasies from the local taverns." The man had a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched the warehouse collapse in on itself.

"You know her?" he asked in surprise. This was the first time he had ever seen someone like her, and the name Crimson Ghost certainly didn't ring any bells.

"Again, only from rumors spewed from the mouths of drunks." The man waved his hand dismissively. "I choose to believe in things I can see with my own two eyes rather than simple stories. Though from what we just saw it appears her exploits are not just simple rumors after all."

"She must not be that popular then," he gestured towards the burned warehouse. "This is the first I'm hearing of her, and I have a pretty good set of ears."

"It's not surprising. She's called the Crimson Ghost for a reason," he stroked his beard in thought. "Though why she decided to make a public display like this is certainly strange. She tends to avoid causing trouble in heavily populated areas."

"Well I must learn to thank her if I get the opportunity. I was actually on my way to do the exact same thing."

"Such a small world we live in," the man chuckled. "I was as well."

"I am Alexios," the mercenary introduced as he grasped the man's forearm in a tight grip. The man returned it with equal fervor.

"Brasidas," the Spartan replied and Alexios couldn't help but feel like he had just gained a fellow brother in arms.

He didn't see her again until about a month later when he found her walking out of a nearby bandit camp on the outskirts of Athens, comforting two women who were both weeping into her shoulders.

He could've easily guessed what happened to them just by the look of their torn clothes and bruised bodies. He looked behind the trio and saw the bleeding and broken bodies of the bandits lying motionless on the ground throughout the camp, though he could tell that none of them were dead due to the way their chests were slowly rising and falling. He could feel anger bubble within his core at the sight of their pathetic states. There never seemed to be an end to these damned street rats no matter how many of them he killed. Where in Hades' name were the soldiers? Didn't they know how easy it was for unsuspecting people to be kidnapped this far out of the city? He also couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of resentment for the woman, as well. She should've just killed them where they stood. At least then they wouldn't get the chance to hurt anybody else.

Well if she wasn't willing to do what needed to be done, he certainly would.

He pulled out his spear and made his way inside the camp, fully intending to put them down for good before a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder. He spun around, ready to kill whoever it was that dared to touch him, only to freeze on the spot when he saw that it was the woman. She glared at him from behind her hood as her grip on his shoulder tightened.

"What do you think you're doing?" her voice was low but her tone was as hard and sharp as the swords she carried. However it did nothing to waver him as he swatted the hand off his shoulder and leveled a hard glare of his own right back at her.

"Taking out the trash," he said simply before turning around continued walking towards the nearest bandit. He was only able to make it a foot before his spear was suddenly swiped from his grasp. "Hey!" he yelled in indignation before turning around with his fist cocked back, fully intending to give the woman a piece of his mind until her own fist collided with his face with enough force to break bone and sent him flying back on his ass.

"MALÁKA!" he screamed in pain as he rubbed his now broken nose. He didn't get the chance to get up as a foot suddenly planted itself on his chest and prevented him from moving. He looked up and was momentarily shocked to find his own spear almost an inch away from his face. The woman towered over his downed form, effectively blocking out the sun from his face. He looked up and saw her youthful and pale face scrunched up into a look of barely restrained anger. Her deep brown eyes were even more menacing as she glared down at him. Wisps of her read hair peeked out from her hood and gently swayed in the wind.

"They've already been beaten. Leave. Them. Be." her voice grew harder with each emphasized word as she pushed the spear into his forehead, drawing blood.

"Leave them be?" he replied incredulously, as if such a suggestion was a crime against nature. "Do you think they would've shown those women the same kindness?"

"Killing them would make you no better than them. Especially when they're injured and defenseless."

"No better?!" he exclaimed in outrage. He couldn't believe the sheer nerve of this woman. "I'm not the one who had kidnapped and raped those women!"

"Killing them won't undue their torture," she replied harshly.

"Maybe not," he reluctantly agreed. Though simply letting them live still wasn't right in his mind. "But it will certainly keep them from doing the same to others."

"They won't hurt anybody else. I've already made sure of that," she gestured to their writhing forms as if to make a point.

"You don't know that," he said through gritted teeth. He tried to move but the woman's foot forced him back down.

"Maybe not," she repeated his early statement. "But they will if they know what's good for them."

"It would be a lot easier if you simply killed them." It was always easier when dealing with men such as these. Always was.

"It has nothing to do with easy," she said with bared teeth before pulling the spear away from his face. "It's about doing what's right and that's all you need to know. I don't expect some mercenary like you to understand." Before he had a chance to reply, she removed her foot and grabbed the hem of his armor, lifting him up as if he weighed no more than a feather and proceeded to throw him out of the camp and into the nearby dirt road.

Alexios let out a curse and swiftly got up and brushed the dirt off his armor. He swiveled around, fully intending to give her an earful but was interrupted by the sight of his spear flying through the air towards him. He caught it easily but made no move put it away as the woman stalked toward him menacingly. It reminded of a predator stalking towards its prey.

"You're done here," her tone left no room for argument as she stopped a foot away from him. Her glare never once leaving her face as she stood between him and the camp. "Leave at once, and don't even think about killing those men."

"Or what?" he challenged with narrowed eyes. "You'll kill me?"

"No." With movement faster than he could react, she was upon him with an arm wrapped around his neck and her head parallel to his. She was so close that he could practically feel her heartbeat through his armor. Small bits of her red hair tickled his skin and he could faintly smell the aroma of oranges on her person. "But you'll wish I had." She whispered into his ear. He suppressed a shiver that threatened to run up his spine.

Then suddenly she was walking away in the opposite direction just as fast as she had appeared in front of him. He didn't follow after her but that didn't stop him from staring at her retreating form. Suddenly without thinking, he blurted out, "Wait!"

She stopped and turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. His face flushed. He honestly didn't know why he was doing this but the damage had already been done. He might as well go along with it. "What's your name?"

Now both of her eyebrows were raised in surprise before they quickly settled back into a cold frown. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I asked nicely?" Obviously that was the wrong thing to say as her glare returned. He chuckled in amusement as he brought up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, I'm only joking. Look, I'll give you my name. It's Alexios." He walked up to her and held out his hand. She stared at it for a long moment before slowly taking it into her own. The two gave a brief shake before she retracted her arm and continued on down the road. Alexios was slightly disappointed that he didn't get her name but at the same time wasn't that surprised. It wasn't really like he was expecting her to return the courtesy considering how their first meeting just played out.

With an annoyed huff he turned around and made his way in the opposite direction. He didn't get very far as her voice suddenly called out to him.

He turned around. "What?" he asked her, not hearing what just said.

"Erza," she replied looking back at him. "My name is Erza."

"Erza." The name sounded so foreign on his tongue. It didn't sound Greek. He didn't really know what it sounded like. Still, he was glad she at least told him his name. "Thank you, Erza."

"Don't think that this makes us friends. You're still nothing but a lowly mercenary." And with that she went on her way, disappearing out of sight over a nearby hill.

Alexios let out a laugh before he too continued on his way. The woman may have had her priorities screwed up, but she was definitely a hardened warrior worthy of respect, and for some reason that made him want to see her again. And deep down he knew that he would.

"I have no idea who that chick was but I definitely like her."

"I'll say. Alannah, have you been able to find any info on her?"

"Sorry, Layla. There doesn't seem to be anything in the database about her. No involvement in any known historical events, no known descendants, not even a burial site. And I can't find anything on the name 'Erza' either."

"Still, did you guys see the way she kicked ass? She moved like a damn bullet!"

"Yes, Victoria, we all saw the memory. But what I want to know is how the hell her hair was so damn red? Did people get their hair dyed in ancient Greece?"

"None that we know of. Dye was mostly used for clothing back then. Maybe it was some kind of rare genetic mutation?"

"Well whatever it was, it definitely works for her. I mean I'm not gay or anything but that woman was hotter than hot!"

"Charming, Alannah. Very charming. Perhaps we should continue while we're still a step ahead of Abstergo?"

"Kiyoshi's right, guys. We can figure out who the badass red-head is another time. Victoria, put me back in."

"Layla, I really think you should take some time to rest. You know using the animus too much will fry your brain if you're not careful."

"I'm perfectly fine, Vic. We don't have any more time to waste while Abstergo's still out there hunting us."

"Fine. Prepping memory reboot now."

"It is strange though…"

"What is, Layla?"

"That woman. I think I remember seeing someone else like her back when I was researching Bayek. Not nearly as sword-crazy but definitely just as mysterious."