The sun was beginning to die on the horizon, staining the sky a sickly orange and casting long, deformed shadows through the dense foliage. Five days had passed since the group left the safety of the village, venturing into unknown lands. Their destination, the city of Claiflor, lay on the other side of the mountain range, but the peaks still seemed like unreachable silhouettes in the distance.
Biel, Acalia, Xanthe, and Easton moved in single file along a trail that the vegetation threatened to devour. Since dawn, the atmosphere had shifted subtly. The birds had stopped singing, and the wind, usually constant at this altitude, had come to a complete standstill. Every step they took echoed with too much force, as if the entire forest were holding its breath, watching them.
"I don't like this place at all..." Xanthe whispered, hugging herself. Her eyes scanned the gloom between the trees with nervousness. "It feels... heavy. Like the air is stagnant."
"It’s not your imagination," Easton replied, gripping his weapon with knuckles white from tension. "There is something here that isn't natural. Stay close to me."
Acalia, who was leading the march with the tense posture of a predator, stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't turn around; she simply raised an open hand in a signal for an absolute halt.
"Silence," she ordered, in a whisper that cut through the air like a knife.
Biel froze. A chill ran down his spine, making his skin crawl. It wasn't just fear; it was a primal sensation of being hunted. The tension was so palpable it could be tasted—metallic and cold.
Before he could ask what was happening, the shadows around them seemed to flicker, though there was no light to move them.
"Well, well..." a low, sinister, and raspy laugh echoed—not from a fixed point, but from everywhere at once, bouncing off the tree trunks. "So these are the whelps who dared to spit on Great Lord Gard’s plans."
The group instantly formed a defensive circle, back to back. Biel felt his heart hammering against his ribs, desperately searching the growing darkness for the owner of the voice.
"Who are you?" Biel shouted, trying to keep his voice from trembling, clenching his fists until they ached. "Stop hiding and show yourself!"
A figure emerged from the shadows, not walking, but gliding as if his feet didn't touch the ground.
He was a tall man, wrapped in a black cloak that absorbed the sunset light. His face was hidden behind a white porcelain mask, disturbing for its intricate red engravings that looked like pulsing veins. In his hands, two curved swords emanated a dark, viscous aura that dripped onto the grass.
"My name is Kurusume," he said, tilting his head slightly with a frozen courtesy. "And I am here to fulfill a simple task: to purge anyone who represents a threat to Lord Gard."
"As if it were that easy!" Xanthe shouted, stepping forward. Fear made her tremble, but her combat instinct ignited. She raised her hands, and the air began to vibrate.
But Kurusume did not wait.
Before she could finish the first syllable of her incantation, the assassin vanished in a blink. An instant later, a cold breath brushed the back of the girl’s neck.
"Too slow," the voice whispered behind her ear, while the icy edge of a blade rested gently against her jugular.
"Don't you dare!" Easton roared.
The warrior struck the ground, and a volley of ice stalactites shot toward the assassin. Kurusume moved with inhuman speed, pulling the sword away from Xanthe’s neck and leaping backward, melting into the shadows to dodge the ice.
But then, the impossible happened.
Just as Kurusume landed on a branch of a nearby tree, he looked at the edge of his cloak. It was scorched.
"What the hell...?" the assassin thought, his calm momentarily fractured as he touched the burnt fabric. "That attack... it didn't follow the conventional flow of mana. It was much hotter than normal elemental fire; it was almost white. Furthermore... that girl said it was fire, but she violated the laws of magic. It erupted in a blink—no chant, and it didn't come from her staff. It materialized in the air as if reality itself had decided to burn. A second slower, and it would have blown my head off."
Below, the group quickly closed their defensive circle, back to back.
"Well done, sister!" Easton gasped, positioning himself in front of her with his shield ready. "You almost turned him to ash!"
"T-thanks..." Xanthe stammered, looking at her own hands with confusion and terror. "But... I don't know why it conjured that way. I didn't even finish the spell. It’s been happening to me a lot lately; I just wish for it to happen and... it explodes."
"How it happens doesn't matter right now—what matters is that it works!" Easton cut her off, without taking his eyes off the dark branches. "The good thing is you almost got him. Next time, make sure you don't miss!"
Biel, feeling overwhelmed by the enemy's supernatural speed, squeezed the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. He turned his head toward Acalia, desperately seeking the veteran’s guidance.
"Captain..." Biel whispered. "Any instructions?"
"What do we do?" Biel asked again, forcing his voice to stay calm while tightening his grip on his weapon.
Acalia unsheathed her sword in one fluid motion, fixing her predatory gaze on the thick of the forest.
"Stay together," she ordered. "This man is nothing like the bandits who attacked the village; he is no ordinary enemy. His ability to move between shadows makes him dangerous, but not invincible."
"And what about you?" Xanthe asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"I will handle him," Acalia declared, never taking her eyes off the trees. "I ask that you do not intervene. You are not yet at his level. Xanthe, even though your attack nearly reached him, that does not mean you can defeat him in a direct duel."
"But—" the girl started to protest.
Biel placed a hand on her shoulder, gently cutting her off. "Relax. She can handle him," he said, trying to project a confidence he barely felt himself. "Trust her experience."
"And if she can’t?" Xanthe insisted, lowering her voice.
"Then we’ll find a way to defeat him ourselves," Biel replied, sharpening his focus. "For now, our job is to watch him. We have to find a weakness."
Without warning, Kurusume reappeared, lunging from the gloom with both swords leading like steel fangs. Acalia did not flinch; she blocked the strike firmly, and the clash of blades echoed through the forest like metallic thunder.
The assassin leaped backward, landing gracefully but visibly surprised by the strength of her parry.
"Interesting..." Kurusume said, a twisted smile likely hidden behind his porcelain mask. "I did not expect to find someone like you in a place like this. Your gift with the blade is fascinating; in all my years of hunting, I have never encountered such skill. You will be the first to provide me with a true feast."
Acalia did not rise to the provocation. Instead, she advanced with lethal speed, launching one thrust after another, forcing the assassin onto the defensive. Kurusume evaded with supernatural elegance, but it became increasingly difficult for him to keep pace with the warrior’s suffocating pressure.
As steel clashed against steel, Biel watched the battle intensely, searching for any crack in Kurusume’s perfect defense.
Then, he noticed it.
It was a fleeting detail, nearly imperceptible. Every time Kurusume was about to vanish into the shadows to dodge a mortal blow, the intricate engravings on his mask emitted a faint, unmistakable red glow.
"Bingo!" Biel exclaimed, pointing urgently at the assassin. "I found his weak point! It’s the mask! That’s what gives him his power!"
"The mask?" Easton asked, momentarily confused.
Xanthe narrowed her eyes, focusing her vision despite the chaos of the fight. Looking closely, she saw it too: the flow of magic wasn't coming from the assassin’s body, but was converging in the painted porcelain.
"He’s right..." she murmured.
Meanwhile, the primary duel raged on. Acalia and Kurusume exchanged blows at a dizzying speed. Although the fight seemed even, the Captain was beginning to gain ground, pressing with ferocity while Kurusume began to show signs of fatigue, his breathing growing heavy beneath the mask.
Acalia, without breaking her assault, analyzed the situation coldly:
"So, they finally noticed... especially that girl. She is no ordinary mage; she has great potential, but even so, I would rather she not stay with the group. She is too unstable. From now on, our enemies will be formidable opponents, and though she possesses that rare magic, she has yet to master it. She could be a burden... But fine, I will leave the final blow to them, to see if they are worth the effort."
With a sudden maneuver, Acalia parried a strike from Kurusume and leaped backward, deliberately stepping out of attack range.
"Biel, execute your plan!" she commanded without looking at him.
"But how did you know that—?" Biel started, surprised by her sudden retreat.
"Just do it!" Acalia cut him off. "Now, while you have the chance!"
"Fine, but stop being so cold to me!" Biel retorted, frustrated but focused. He turned quickly to his companions. "Easton, Xanthe, it’s our turn!"
Easton didn't hesitate. "Understood!" the warrior shouted. "Xanthe, cover me!"
The girl reacted instantly, hurlng a rapid series of fireballs toward Kurusume. She wasn't trying to hit him, but rather to force him to dance among the flames, preventing him from standing still.
While the assassin dodged the fire, Easton began to recite his incantation, the air chilling around him as he locked his target onto the enemy's face.
"I won’t allow it!" Kurusume roared, sensing the trap.
The assassin ignored the fire and threw himself into a suicidal charge toward Easton to interrupt the spell. But before he could reach him, Biel stepped into his path. Using explosive speed, Biel intercepted the assassin, blocking the advance of the daggers with his own sword.
"Not so fast," Biel grunted, deflecting Kurusume’s desperate attacks with precise movements.
It was just enough time.
Easton finished his chant. A lance of solid ice materialized in the air, whistling as it shot forward. Kurusume, pinned down by Biel, had no room to dodge.
The impact was devastating. The lance struck the white mask with a sharp crack. The porcelain shattered into a thousand pieces, and the dark energy dissipated instantly. The assassin, stripped of his source of power, collapsed to the ground, gasping in agony.
"What... what have you done?" Kurusume muttered, covering his exposed face, trying and failing to stand.
Acalia approached slowly, with the step of an executioner, until the tip of her sword touched the fallen man’s neck.
"Your time is over," she declared in a glacial voice. "Tell your lord that we do not fear him."
Kurusume let out a weak, raspy laugh, spitting blood. "This... is not over. Gard... is coming for you..."
With those final words, the assassin’s body dissolved into a cloud of black shadows that were swept away by the wind, leaving behind only the mocking echo of his laughter.
The forest fell silent. The group stood still for a moment, their adrenaline slowly receding as they recovered from the encounter. Finally, Xanthe broke the silence, staring at the spot where the enemy had vanished.
"Do you think he’ll come back?"
Acalia sheathed her sword with a metallic click and answered flatly, confirming her own internal fears.
"Eventually, yes," she said, looking toward the dark horizon. "We have just stepped into the lion's den."
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