Altaïr searched for a way inside the hospital and found it on the second floor—a narrow window left unguarded. He slipped through silently.Inside, the air was thick with sickness and fear. Patients lay on wooden planks arranged as beds, some wrapped in white cloth, others exposed and trembling. Guards patrolled every corridor. No corner was unwatched.He moved downward, floor by floor.On the lower level, chaos reigned. Patients ran through corridors, chased down by guards, dragged back by force. Others sat frozen on their planks, staring into nothing, their eyes hollow. Terror had settled into the stone itself.Garnier walked among them.
He moved slowly, deliberately, resting a hand on shoulders, speaking gently to each patient as if bestowing mercy. His voice was calm, reassuring—like a man convinced of his own virtue.Altaïr waited.He waited for Garnier to separate from the guards, to step away even for a moment—but it never happened. Wherever Garnier went, guards followed. Patients surrounded him constantly, clinging to his presence like children to a father.
At last, Garnier ended his rounds.He ordered his guards to remain outside his quarters while he rested.Altaïr followed—but the room was sealed by numbers. Too many guards. No opening.Then he saw his opportunity.A patient ran through the corridor, panic driving his movements. Altaïr seized him, whispered nothing, and shoved him forward. The man ran—straight past Garnier's door.
Three of the four guards broke formation and gave chase.Altaïr waited.When distance separated them, he struck the remaining guard from behind, swift and silent. The body fell without a sound.Altaïr entered the room and closed the door.Garnier stood near the window, his back turned.
He spoke without turning.
"Who are you," Garnier asked calmly, "and how did you come in?"
Altaïr locked the door.
"I am your liberation from this world."
Garnier turned.They fought.No finesse. No ceremony. Fists met flesh. Altaïr struck again and again, brutal and relentless, his blows breaking bone and skin. Garnier staggered, tried to speak, tried to reason—but Altaïr did not stop.Only when Garnier collapsed did Altaïr draw his blade.He drove it into Garnier's stomach.
As Garnier fell back, blood staining his robes, he smiled faintly.
"I can rest now," he said weakly. "Yes… the endless dream calls to me."He lifted his head with effort."But before I close my eyes… I must know—what will become of my children?"
"You mean the people you made suffer through your experiments?" Altaïr said. "They will be free now. Free to return to their homes."
"Homes?" Garnier whispered, almost amused. "What homes?"He coughed."The sewers? The brothels? The prisons we dragged them from?"
"You took these people against their will," Altaïr said.
"Yes," Garnier replied. "What little will they had."He looked at Altaïr, eyes burning with conviction."Do you appease a crying child simply because he wails, I wish to play with fire? Would you say—as you wish? And then answer for his burns?"
"These were not children," Altaïr said. "They were men and women."
"In body, perhaps," Garnier said. "But not in mind. That was the damage I sought to repair."He exhaled slowly."I admit—without the Piece of Eden you stole from us, my progress slowed. But there are herbs, mixtures, extracts. My gods are proof of this."He smiled faintly.
"They were mad men before I found them. I freed them from the prisons of their own minds. And with my death…" he sighed, "…they will be mad once more."
"You truly believe you were helping them?" Altaïr asked.
"It is not what I believe," Garnier said quietly.
"It is what I know."His head fell.
The guards broke down the door.Altaïr was already moving.He shattered the window and leapt, glass exploding outward. He landed on a nearby rooftop, then another—lamps hanging from wooden beams swayed violently as he used them for footing.Shouts followed.But Altaïr was gone.