3rd Person POV-
The masked figure stood unmoving, arms relaxed, chains swaying gently in the night breeze. He didn't prepare a stance. He didn't ready his weapon.
He just watched.
Roy and Jack moved without a word. They split, flanking him from both sides in perfect sync.
Roy dashed in with a twin scimitar cross-slash — one low, one high. The beak-masked man weaved beneath the first and leaned just enough to let the second glide past harmlessly.
Jack followed, daggers drawn. From the rear, he struck with precise, silent intent — but the man twisted mid-air, parrying the blow with the hilt of his kusarigama. No wasted movement. No tension in his limbs.
He was gliding through the fight like it was a rehearsal.
Roy ducked a sudden kick, twisting on his heel to aim a clean strike to the ribs — only to meet thin air.
Every slash, every strike, every combo — avoided. Not by raw speed… but by prediction.
The man wasn't reacting. He was reading.
And every now and then — he retaliated. A casual palm. A sweep of the foot. Just enough to break their tempo.
He's playing with us, Jack realized, gritting his teeth. This isn't a fight — it's an evaluation.
Then he vanished.
Roy barely saw the blur before the masked man's fist slammed into his solar plexus.
Thud. Air left his lungs. His body bent backward in midair before crashing hard into the ground.
Cough. Blood splattered the dirt.
"Roy!" Jack shouted, fury snapping through his voice. He clenched his fists, channeling the darkness swirling inside him.
Shadow mana erupted.
From the ground, two black arms burst forth — clawed, writhing, bound by cursed chains.
"Erebus Xepi," Jack growled.
The shadow arms lunged.
The masked man's eyes gleamed behind the glass of his beaked mask. Still no fear. Still no aggression. Just… amusement.
"Shadow affinity," he said softly, dodging the lunging arms like they were insects.
"But unrefined. That's a shame."
He stepped forward. With a slow roll of his shoulder, he swung his kusarigama — the chain whistled through the air, slicing wind as it circled around him like a whip.
"Shall we stop pretending now?"
The kusarigama dropped low — and snapped forward with inhuman speed.
Swish. Klang.
Metal clashed.
The masked man clearly held the upper hand — his strength overwhelming. Jack was sent flying from the sheer impact.
As he twisted mid-air, trying to regain balance, the chains rattled again. Too late.
Shhk. The blade lashed across his wrist.
"Arghhh!" Jack cried, the red slicing across his arm and dripping to the ground like it belonged there. Like blood and dirt were old friends.
His left wrist was gone. He could only hold a dagger in his right.
But he didn't back down.
He pushed forward, barely catching his balance. Shadow energy surged behind him. Three hands appeared and shot forward with speed — targeting the man's face.
The masked man didn't panic. He danced through the barrage, dodging with nothing but casual, eerie grace. His chains whistled through the air, making circles under the black sky.
"My, my… excellent," the man said. "But this farce needs to end now, doesn't it, kid?"
He pulled back his chain—
ZWOOM. CLANG.
Another figure slid in front of Jack and deflected the chain. Wind coiled around his body, and twin scimitars gleamed in the dark.
Roy.
"Phew… took your time," Jack muttered. "He's not a joke. Be careful."
Roy nodded, keeping his eyes forward. He tossed a pouch behind him. "Apply that. Then move your ass. We're not done yet."
Jack grabbed it, grinned through bloodied teeth."Cough… Anna's not gonna let us live if we crawl home like this."
They moved — this time together.
Roy dashed in with wind armor cloaking his steps, parrying every blow with fast, momentum-fed strikes. Jack followed the rhythm, slipping in and jabbing at every opening.
Clang. Swish. Clang. Swish.
Whenever the man pulled his chain, Roy struck with a double-cross to push it back. Each hit flowed into the next, the wind building with every swing.
Then a small gap —Jack darted in and slashed up, just in time.
Slice. A mark — shallow, but it hit the mask.
"Hahahahaha… wonderful," the man laughed. "Wind armor… adaptive swordsmanship… prodigies, the both of you."
He stopped smiling.
"BUT YOU SEE—"
Bang!
He disappeared.
A kick to Roy's gut sent him reeling. Then a punch to Jack's face. The both of them stumbled, stunned.
In a blink, the man's chain wrapped around Roy's waist.
"Spin like a wheel, won't you?" he muttered.
He whirled Roy in the air like a toy and slammed him down.
Thud.
"Arghhhh… Fck. That hurts. That bloody hurts."*
The man didn't stop.
He grabbed Jack by the neck, lifted him like a doll — and smashed a fist into his gut.
Jack gasped — vomited what was left in his stomach.
"SUCH. PETTY. TRICKS…" the masked man growled.
"…WON'T WORK ON ME."
He looked at both of them — unconscious. Bodies drenched in sweat, blood, and tears. Faces bruised, limbs limp, skin cracked, bones shattered.
They were wrecked.
Roy's back had fractured. Jack's ribs had collapsed. Their lungs were damaged, and Roy's liver was bleeding internally.
They'd survive… maybe. But only if they got treatment. And they had to get it now.
The masked man scanned the area. Calm. Cold.
But then—
SWOOSH.
A massive baton flew past his face like a meteor. He twisted at the last second, just barely avoiding it — but not without cost.
SHHK. A clean slash opened across his chest.
Drip. Drip.
"…What power, man."He chuckled, inspecting the wound. "And here I thought I dodged it clean. You really are something, Klein. Klein of the Nine Locks."
From across the field, Klein stood still. His aura flared like a bonfire.
"What is The Obscurum doing here?" he asked — voice like thunder, eyes burning.
The masked man grinned. "Aah, so you even know the name of our organization… Impressive. Especially for someone from—"
He glanced around the slums.
"…this kind of place."
Klein clenched his jaw. His killing intent poured into the air like a storm.
"Easy now," the masked man said, raising his hands. "I didn't kill the kids. Proper healing, they'll be fine. I wouldn't waste good material. Killing them now would be an absolute waste of time—"
THUD.
A punch slammed across his face with the force of a falling mountain.
The masked man flew nearly ten meters before skidding to a stop.
He slowly lifted his head — twisted at an unnatural angle — and stared at Klein. Eyes no longer amused. Now serious.
"Interesting," he muttered, voice lower.
Klein retrieved his baton, aura rising with a sound like cracking stone. The ground beneath him split.
Swish.
Both vanished — reappearing mid-air.
Tak! Tak!
Steel clashed.Kusarigama spun. Baton blocked.
Then the masked man summoned mana, chanting low—
"Umbra Visionera."
A wave of dark energy exploded outward.
Klein didn't flinch. He coated his baton with pure aura, thick like molten iron. With one powerful swing — like a baseball bat in a titan's grip — he smashed through the wave.
The darkness shattered, tearing apart everything in its path.
The masked man raised a hand just in time, casting a tight shield of void. The shield cracked, but held. Barely.
The man smiled.
His weapon—twin chained sickles—began to glow with a swirling wave of darkness. Miasma curled off the blades like smoke. The ground beneath him cracked from the pressure.
He crouched low. His muscles tensed.
And then—He vanished.
A sonic boom followed as he blitzed forward, moving faster than the naked eye could follow.
Klein barely reacted—lifting his baton just in time to block.
CLANG!
The sickles collided with raw force, sending Klein off the ground. He flew through the air, coughing blood as micro-fractures rippled through his ribs. Even with aura reinforcing his body, the impact stung deep.
The man retracted his chain and launched after him again—this time airborne.
Darkness coated his entire figure. His weapon seethed with a black, oily miasma. And his voice rang out like a death sentence.
"Fall beneath the veil."
He vanished again, blades swirling. A vortex of dark energy tore through the terrain beneath them—leveling trees, rocks, everything.
But Klein didn't flinch.
He planted his left foot mid-air and drew in deep, radiant energy from his core. His aura swelled—blazing gold and deep blue.
"Spiritual Energy Release," he muttered."Nine Locked Rend – First Form: Full Grazing Impact."
His eyes snapped open.
In a flash, he moved—reappearing just above the masked man.
Holding his baton with both hands, he brought it down in a devastating arc.
BOOM.
Their weapons collided—Klein's reinforced baton versus the twin sickles.
Energy exploded. The very sky trembled.
The kusarigama tore through part of Klein's armor. But Klein's baton slammed into the masked man's chest—crushing it with brute power.
They both staggered mid-air—injured, bleeding.
The masked man dropped to one knee. A deep, caved-in wound throbbed in the center of his chest, ribs cracked inward.
Klein's baton shattered on impact—splitting into jagged pieces. A deep X-shaped gash ran across his torso, blood pouring freely.
They stood for a moment, the battlefield decimated.
Two warriors. Two bleeding titans.
"Well done… Klein," the masked man whispered, and then —vanished into the darkness.
Klein coughed hard, blood dripping from his lips.
His knees buckled, but he didn't fall.
He turned, stumbled toward the unconscious boys, and sat down beside them.
He pulled out two small vials of glowing blue liquid and pressed them to their mouths, forcing them to drink.
'Don't fall into this. Don't fall for it… both of you…''Stay alive.'