Chapter 102: Watchful Eye
As the sun descended beyond the horizon the light that had been bathing the world was gradually swallowed by the coming night, and in its place the faint glow of a half-moon stretched itself across the town, though that light was not nearly enough to make the darkness kinder to the eyes. Yet the town was not entirely drowned in shadow, for the magical radiance circling around Velhart spread its pale gleam upon the streets, and with it came the shrill whistle of the cold night wind and the restless cries of people who kept the town alive even in the depth of evening.
Seraphina stood quietly upon the roof of a four-storied wooden house, her back pressed against the tall frame of a pillar from the next floor that was yet to be built. The wind toyed with her silver hair, tugging and twirling the strands until the moonlight caught them and turned them into something otherworldly, so fine and gleaming that they seemed less like hair and more like strands of ethereal silk swaying in the air.
From time to time her gaze drifted over her shoulder toward the distance where a modest two-storied house stood. From this height she could easily make out if anyone tried to step inside, though so far no one had, and the silence of that door was beginning to test her patience. She was here because of a plan she had devised, a small trap that might allow her to catch the person who had been moving in shadows and trying so hard to erase themselves. It was a gamble of course, yet the risk was hardly great, and the only thing she stood to lose if it failed was her time, which she was willing to spare.
The plan itself was not complex. Back when she had spoken to Lyra and Arwyn, she told them that the person behind the attack would certainly attempt to erase evidence once their attempt to kill Eska had failed. It was a logical move for someone who was both clever and afraid. Evidence of that kind would give the knights a direct line to them, and so she wagered that their next step would be to retrieve or destroy it. That evidence was none other than the relic itself, the very thing that had been used to frame Caelum and land him in chains.
Relics were not ordinary objects. They were treasures of immense value, rare enough to be spoken of only in fragments, and dangerous enough that they belonged more to myths than to common life. Such artifacts were almost always uncovered in ruins and bore the weight of centuries, each carrying within it a forbidden power.
They granted the wielder the ability to call upon magic even if one had no affinity for that element, though the cost was often cruel, for many relics consumed the soul of the caster, shortening lifespans with each use. Others could draw power from mana alone, yet all of them were unsettling in their origins. The greatest mystery was not their function but their creation, for no one could explain how humanity, nearly destroyed a thousand years ago, had managed to craft them in the first place. This, she had only come to know recently through her father's words.
Such artifacts could not be found lightly, and if someone was fortunate enough to unearth one it often required repair before it could be used. For that reason the owner had no choice but to take it to a weaponsmith, and though Velhart had no shortage of such craftsmen, only a rare handful had the skill to mend something so intricate. To restore a relic was not merely a matter of talent but of profound experience in both forging and understanding ancient mechanisms, and Seraphina, as luck would have it, knew one such person.
It was this same crafter whom Rowen had been forced to consult when Caelum was first accused, since before any imprisonment the relic's authenticity had to be confirmed. That man, a smith employed at times by the knights, had also been the very one who crafted Seraphina's own sword, forged from wyvern scales several years ago. She had sought him out in secret and discovered that he had indeed examined the relic but never repaired it. Its structure was too delicate, too complex to grasp fully, which was disappointing, though it also opened a new possibility.
If it was not repaired by him then it must have been newly acquired or restored by another craftsman, though that path of inquiry was blocked by the realization that someone was keeping constant watch on the movements of the knight order. She suspected this the moment she understood the true reason behind Eska's attempted murder. Whoever the culprit was, they would not cease their vigilance, and it was impossible for her to risk revealing her search. Even contacting the known smith had required her to slip away through the prison washroom of the knight order and use her speed to reach him unseen.
She knew with certainty that if her plan was uncovered the chance to capture the culprit might vanish forever. Thus throughout the day she had placed her soldiers across the town, sending them to search for Rowen's family or acquaintances, recording whom he met and where he spoke, even placing some in taverns to listen for strange happenings. All of this was only to create the illusion of desperate searching, a picture for their unseen watcher, while the relic itself remained unmentioned. Meanwhile she kept others occupied with other cases as usual so that no one suspected anything. And why would they?
What kind of idiotic fool would try to search for the relic in the first place when they did not even know how it looked, since its design was so complicated? And even if they did, why would they waste their precious time asking people? They had plenty of work to do already, such as going to many shops and asking about its buyers or where it was fixed from. Since a relic was very harmful as well as expensive, it took citizenship from a person such as owning them, so it was the very task. That was what the clever person might think, at least.
However, Seraphina knew very well that the person was trying hard to push everything onto Rowen and make him the full victim. So, she suspected that the relic the person gave him might never have been taken away from him again. Even if their plan had succeeded, there was surely a chance of failure. If that happened, then if the Knight Order somehow found out the relic was with Rowen, why would they even bother to search for another owner? And of course it was also possible that the person used Rowen to buy the relic as well. Thus, even if he was caught, there would be no way to know anything about that person, and the knights would not have to try to find the relic back then. Without any other clues, the case might have been over.
But what mattered was that the relic was a very powerful weapon on its own, extremely rare and very expensive as well. So, what kind of fool would let it go so easily from their hands? If they saw that the Knight Order was busy trying to find other clues, then what else would be a greater chance than this to retrieve it back again?
And judging by the Rowen's foolishness, it was easy to guess the bastard must have hidden it somewhere in his house, maybe even used it for show, who knows?
And if the person really did not care about the money, then it would be just a waste of time for Seraphina. Speaking of her, what kind of captain would guard someone's home for a few hours now, after her duty time was over?
Well, no one would, except for Seraphina of course. So here she was, standing on a higher house than the knight's, waiting if someone might come to retrieve it, if that was the case. Well, what better choice did they have in their arsenal now? With Seraphina's speed, she could easily close the distance between houses in an instant.
And of course there was Arwyn, her bestie, somewhere out there on the opposite side of her in another roof, supposedly doing training with Seraphina's husband. And here she was standing alone. Were they training at all? With Arwyn's behavior, she sometimes really doubted it.
"I think she might have taken a nap while using Kael as the watchman to look if someone might come… serves him right."
Soon she refocused her eyes on the quiet front of the house, yet still there was not a single soul to be seen, and the silence of the night stretched on. Time slipped past slowly in her solitude, but today the emptiness around her held no weight, it mattered little to her.
Yet her brows twitched ever so slightly as if a shadow had caught the edge of her vision. She narrowed her gaze, though the dimness made it impossible to catch every detail with precision, and even so she noticed only the faintest of movements stirring beyond.
"Was that just my imagination or..." her thought lingered unfinished.
Before she could dwell further on the question, something in the darkness stirred more clearly. A figure moved, its outline swallowed in black as though it was covered by a cloak. Her eyes sharpened, steady and cold, as she followed its motions carefully.
"That was fast… something feels off here," she thought to herself with calm certainty.
The figure crept forward with the clumsiness of an inexperienced thief, glancing left and right in a nervous manner as if doubting whether unseen eyes might be watching. In another moment the shadow slipped behind a nearby tree, its head turning again and again to confirm the absence of witnesses. Then, as though seizing a fragile chance, the figure dashed forward and disappeared into the two-storied house, which she instantly recognized as Rowen's.
A minute passed, perhaps longer, before Seraphina finally moved. From the dark she stepped into the moonlight, her armor glimmering faintly under its pale glow. The faint radiance around her body stirred, and with a single motion she leapt across to the next rooftop though it lay slightly lower than her perch. She landed without a tremor, her pace quickening in the next breath until her sprint across the roofs was so swift the world itself seemed to drag behind. To any eye, her figure was nothing more than a silver line cutting through the air, and within a heartbeat that line bent and curved like a ribbon flowing in the night.
Inside the silent room, the moonlight filtered through a broken window, casting pale light across the chaos. A cloaked figure rummaged restlessly from desk to desk, sweeping aside blankets and throwing aside small objects with rising desperation, and the faint sound of shifting clutter filled the air. Yet as the figure drew closer to the window it froze, stiff as stone, and leapt back in alarm.
For where there had been nothing a moment before, a presence had emerged. Standing before the window was a woman, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the moon's pale glow, strands of it swaying gently with the night air. Her face was shadowed from the light she blocked, but from that darkness two eyes burned with a glacial flame, their blue radiance cutting through the gloom.
Before Seraphina could speak, the cloaked intruder hurled a handful of clothing toward her in blind desperation. She tilted aside, letting the fabric spill out of the broken frame into the open night. At the same instant the slam of a door echoed through the house, and her lips curved faintly upward.
"So, he thinks he can outrun me… how amusing, how rare," she murmured.
The figure stumbled down the stairs, and in a frantic rush burst out from the house. Yet waiting in the night before him stood Seraphina, her form cutting off every path of escape as she stepped forward with measured grace.
"There is no point in running," her voice rang cold and sure. "You will not escape me. Tell me who you are, I am truly interested to know, since you have toyed with my entire division as though it were your plaything."
The figure tilted its head in silence, the cloak concealing any trace of identity. Her hand slid to the hilt of her sword, her step pressing forward, yet in that same instant a silver gleam flashed in the moonlight. A kunai whistled from the side, aiming straight for her throat.
Her blade moved before thought could form. Steel rang against steel, the kunai deflected with effortless precision, but even as she caught that strike another presence closed in. A second cloaked figure had already slipped within reach, a dagger poised at her neck to sever it in one motion.
Seraphina's foot shifted, her body sidestepping in a calm flow as her sword forced the attacker to retreat. Yet before she could savor even the briefest relief, another projectile shot from below, once more aimed directly for her throat. She sprang back, widening the space, and in that moment three black-cloaked figures rushed forward together. She tilted her head with an almost curious air, her voice steady, "So… this was also part of your plan. It seems I have underestimated you after all."
The words had scarcely left her lips when another shape appeared at her side, a leg lashing out at her waist with sudden ferocity. Yet Seraphina's hand caught the kick as her blade arced upward, ready to carve the figure in half. In a shocking instant, the assailant seized her sword bare-handed, and from midair twisted to strike at her with a vicious kick.
But the strike never landed. Seraphina had already lifted herself into the air, slipping behind the figure with grace beyond measure. Her blade now rested in reverse at its throat, the edge cold and sharp against the skin.
"Do not move," she whispered with deadly finality.
The command met only defiance. The figure gripped the blade tighter with his bare hand, raising his head to reveal the gleam of round yellow eyes burning in the dark. As Seraphina sought to withdraw her blade, a harsh sound of steel grinding against steel pierced the silence, and out of nowhere a fist drove toward her with brutal force.
She kicked the figure and leapt back once again, her boots scraping against the ground as she prepared to move again, but before she could even allow herself a pause something dropped from the branches above. This time it was not a figure but two sharp kunai, glinting in the moonlight as they descended, yet before they could strike her body Seraphina's sword rose with precision and deflected the weapons away, her arm flowing smoothly as she sidestepped with ease, and in that very instant two more figures fell from the trees and landed upon the earth with eerie silence.
At that very moment the other attackers lunged forward toward her, though Seraphina's gaze lingered on the two who had just fallen from above, and as the cloth from one of their hands slipped away in the clash she caught a glimpse of something grotesque beneath. Where she expected human skin she instead saw claws, sharp and jagged, and when her eyes lifted she noticed the gleam of unnatural yellow light burning from their sockets, brighter and more unsettling than any ordinary gaze.
They did not hesitate, and soon three of the creatures rushed at her from three sides, their movements sharp yet strangely unrefined, their limbs striking with kunai, with knives, and with bare claws. Seraphina twisted with them, her sword flashing as she deflected the steel aimed at her throat, her shoulder, her chest, and at the same time warded off the kicks and swipes that sought to overwhelm her.
The strangest part of it all was not the strength of their attacks but the manner in which they fought, for their style was abnormal, ungraceful, yet unpredictable, and more importantly she realized with irritation that she could not sense them at all. If she had, she would have known that far more enemies lurked nearby, but their presence had escaped her entirely, and that very fact caught her off guard more than any strike.
Even so, she caught the hand of one attacker as it came at her bare and clawed, twisting it until the monster staggered, and in that brief instant the other two lunged at nothing but empty air. Seraphina had already moved, her sword raised in one hand, while in the other she held tightly onto a torn cloak that she had seized during the clash, the fabric clinging with strange green matter that almost seemed alive.
At some point in the exchange her blade had sliced clean through half of that cloak, and when the figure turned to face her without it she saw their true form revealed.
For the briefest heartbeat their eyes flared with a strange glow, blue flames burning in the darkness like otherworldly fire, and Seraphina's lips curved ever so slightly as she whispered with cold amusement.
"Monsters… is that what you are? Who would have thought that in the middle of this city I would be crossing blades not with humans but with creatures such as you. Fascinating, is it not…"
Before her stood a figure with a humanoid body yet a skin that looked as though it had long rotted, colored with the sickly shade of green decay. Their face was hollow, reminiscent of a skull with glowing eyes burning from empty sockets, and although their forms were ghastly they bore strands of hair upon their heads, something rare among such abominations, yet Seraphina did not waste her thoughts upon these details.
Her attention shifted instead as she noticed that one of the figures had vanished amidst the chaos, the very first one she had struck. She still saw the blur of its retreat, fleeing even as the battle continued, for everything until now had lasted only seconds, and it would not last much longer.
Seraphina tilted her head, the tip of her sword lowering and then rising into a vertical stance as she gripped it in reverse, and her eyes glinted coldly while a faint chuckle slipped from her lips.
"You have chosen the worst day of your lives to meet me…"
As though in answer, all five remaining monsters lunged at her together, three with kunai, one with a knife, and another with nothing but its claws. They moved without elegance, yet their brutality carried the intent of persecution, and as the storm of blades and talons descended upon her Seraphina's sword began to dance. The first strike aimed at her chest was deflected and in that same breath her blade tore through the abdomen of the nearest creature before sliding back with effortless control.
The moment that body faltered, three kunai came for her neck, her eye, and her shoulder, yet before they could reach her, blue flames flickered faintly in the battlefield, and Seraphina's sword sang again. It cut with such precision that it seemed as though she was not merely fighting but performing, her movements like a dancer on a stage, and in an instant three heads were severed cleanly and fell with their bodies to the ground.
Green blood spilled, thick and boiling, sizzling where it struck the earth, and yet before Seraphina could take even a single breath another claw tore toward her. She turned swiftly, her blade already moving, and the hand of her attacker fell away before it could touch her. The creature's eyes locked with hers for only a moment, and she felt, strangely enough, as though there was something unspoken in its gaze, something almost like words that had never been given voice. But her sword pierced its throat before it could speak, and with a harsh kick she sent it crashing backward, shaking the green blood from her blade as her eyes fell upon its lips.
They seemed to curve into something that resembled a quiet smile.
Seraphina's brows furrowed and she muttered beneath her breath, "Ugh… I am letting my thoughts run wild again."
She sheathed her sword with a swift motion, her eyes narrowing toward the road where the first figure had escaped, and without a second thought she sprinted after it with her usual speed. Her steps struck the ground in rapid succession, the rhythm of her pace turning almost mechanical as her speed grew, her legs moving as though powered by a mechanism beyond human limits. She scanned the roads around her, yet found no trace, and so she pressed on until she left the empty street behind and came upon a field where scattered trees stood beneath the night sky.
She slowed only to glance about, and finding nothing she allowed a faint sigh to escape her lips, but before she could turn back she felt her leg caught by something.
Looking down she saw the roots of a small tree winding tightly around her ankle, and then the branch pointed toward a certain tree in the distance.
Her lips softened into the barest smile as she whispered.
"Thank you, Arwyn… that was a great help."
In the next instant her body vanished, and she appeared behind that tree, her sword hand ready, though her eyes widened when she saw what was before her.
Leaning casually against the bark stood a young man with black hair swaying lightly in the night breeze, his gaze turned toward the sky, and his eyes as black as the endless dark above. The cloak was gone from his form, his presence clear and undeniable, and Seraphina's voice slipped out in a strange, almost uncertain tone.
"Aren't you, Caelum?"
---
(Chapter Ended)
To be continued...