Rain began to fall in sheets as storm clouds churned overhead, draping the sky in bruised gray. Zay stood still beneath the growing tempest, gaze fixed forward. He sensed no danger. No tremor in the air. No shift in aura.
Then came footsteps. They were heavy, and unhurried at all.
A man stepped through the front gates, clad in black robes soaked by the rain, each step echoing like a war drum. His eyes locked onto Zay with disdain. 'So that's the brat who deflected my arrow from the priestess... Tch.'
He halted, reached into his robes and drew out a long black bow. Aura coiled around his fingers as he pulled the string back in one fluid motion. An arrow of aura formed, and loosed, all within the span of a heartbeat.
Zay barely reacted. His eyes narrowed, catching the faint shimmer of a line, the line of death. He lunged to the right, the arrow hissing past his cheek.
The man tilted his head. "You dodged that? Hm. Impressive... but meaningless." He rolled his neck until it popped. "Once you're dead, I'll kill the priestess. Then that little shadow girl, or whatever she is. The artifact will be mine."
Zay surged forward, Evershade flashing into existence in his grasp. He closed the distance in a blink and brought the blade down in a clean arc.
The man looked at Zay, he raised his bow, and caught the blade with it. The moment of contact exploded with force causing small ripples in the air around them but the man released his hand from the bow, letting it clatter to the ground, seized Zay's wrist, and slammed his foot into Zay's chest.
The impact was monstrous as Zay flew backward like a broken doll, crashing through the front wall of the mansion. Stone cracked apart into pieces. The rain continued to pour around him. He hit the ground hard and coughed, saliva mixed with blood spilling from his lips.
"W-who the fuck… are you?" he gasped, clutching his ribs as he rose.
The man didn't answer at all, he simply lifted his hand and another bow shimmered into existence as he drew the bowstring back, an arrow made from aura formed and the man released the bowstring.
The arrow shrieked through the rain, drawing water to itself like a calling. Zay dove backward and accidently slipped, glass digging into his back as he landed. The arrow screamed past, striking a nearby bookshelf.
Water exploded from the point of impact, a bubble forming around the shelf. Books within dissolved instantly into slurry, as if time and decay had been condensed into seconds.
Zay staggered to his feet and lunged again. Aura flaring violently as he threw a punch toward the man's jaw.
But the man was gone before the blow landed. He slipped back like smoke, expression unchanged.
Zay pressed harder, launching a flurry of rapid strikes. The man read each movement, each angle, and even each breath. He weaved through Zay's blows like a phantom, he dodges to the left, to the right right, low, around. And then, as if bored, he struck.
The man threw a single perfect punch, countering Zay's fist. his eyes widened, he barely saw it coming before pain shot through his ribs.
Then the man's other hand snapped forward and clamped around his throat. Zay was lifted into the air effortlessly, his feet dangling above the wet ground.
"For a Sequence Three, you do have quite the strength. It's almost scary how high your potential is. Too bad it's me you're up against." The man removed his robe, long crimson hair flowing behind him, his eyes a glowing, violent red. He tightened his fist around Zay's throat and slammed him down into the dirt. Without pause, he raised his boot and brought it down hard onto Zay's face, shattering his nose.
Unable to respond, completely outmatched, Zay lay there, already unconscious after just a brief exchange.
"Huh? You were dodging all my arrows, but you can't take a few small close-combat moves? I guess that makes sense. I must've had too high expectations for a Sequence Three."
The man bent over Zay's limp body, gripped him by the throat, and hurled him with full force. Zay crashed through the mansion walls, flew across the interior, destroyed the other wall of inside the mansion, and flew all the way to the back large stall wall surrounding the mansion with a thunderous crack.
The man exhaled sharply, glancing through the broken windowpanes of the mansion. "My name is Trace Anderson," he shouted, his voice echoing through the halls. "I'm here for a girl... she has black hair. She carries an artifact I'm looking for. It's called Midon's Chalice."
As his words rang through the house, the coachman stepped up from the stairs. Wordless, he drew his sword and locked eyes with the man standing before him.
'This guy... he's a threat.'
The coachman moved slowly, pressing a pressure point in his palm. A sudden burst of aura exploded from his body, rising violently into the air. A single stream of it peeled away, streaking across the ground and shifting to a vibrant green, blending with the grass.
Trace noticed the surge immediately but didn't move to stop it. He tilted his head slightly, an amused glint in his eye. "Before I kill you, I'd like to know your name."
The coachman lifted his blade. "Fisher Nocturnal."
Running a hand through his hair, Fisher let his own aura erupt. Crimson energy roared around him, licking the air like fire as he stepped into position.
Trace let out a laugh. "You look even weaker than the first bastard. Is this some kind of daycare for spineless trash to train in?"
Fisher charged without a word, his expression remained stern as always despite what was in front of him. He brought his blade down in a vertical slash, aiming straight for Trace.
Trace leapt upward. As he rose, a shimmering bow appeared in his hand, materializing from aura. In the blink of an eye, he conjured three arrows, drew the string, and released the bowstring mid-air.
All three arrows whistled through the storm and struck Fisher's left arm in rapid succession, rendering it limp as Trace landed back on the ground.
"That's it? Just three arrows and you're already done? You couldn't react to that?"
To Fisher, the attack had been unreal. In mere seconds, Trace had formed a bow, crafted three arrows from aura, accounted for wind speed from the raging storm, and precisely calculated their trajectory, all in a single leap. What stood before him wasn't just a gifted archer, Trace Anderson was a prodigy with a bow... and a mind sharp enough to rival a battlefield tactician.