The Assassin's blade was still dripping with fresh blood as he turned his head toward Don and Wing, his eyes gleaming with a dark hunger. Before he stepped forward however, he flicked his weapon clean in a lazy arc.
"Just a liitle more," he said, voice calm but sharp as steel. "And you two will end up just like the others." Then his gaze shifted to Sylira. He studied her for a heartbeat, as though measuring not her strength, but her resolve.
A thin, cold smile curved his lips. "You want purpose?" His tone was mocking, yet commanding. "Then earn it. Kill him." He pointed the tip of his blade at Thorne, who stood behind her, battered but unbroken.
Sylira's breath caught. Her hand shook, almost dropping the blade that the Assassin threw at her. He tilted his head, voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Show me, just how much you love your brother."
And with that, he strode forward, moonlight gathering around his feet as he made his way toward Wing and Don. But not before glancing back, smiling at the sight of Sylira's pain once more.
The Assassin then surged forward, his steps soundless yet every motion screaming with murderous intent. The moonlight bent unnaturally around him, folding into jagged edges of blue steel.
With a flick of his wrist, the glow hardened into a crescent blade that he hurled toward Don and WIng, slicing the ground open, a shockwave then rippling outward like a violent tide.
Don planted his feet and raised his weapon to absorb the brunt of it, but even he staggered back, boots carving lines in the dirt. Wing spun, his manifested gun blazing as he curved his bullets through the air.
But each shot was swallowed, fractured into sparks by walls made of concentrated moonlight. The Assassin laughed lowly, satisfied with the current situation. "What happened to you?"
He pressed forward, the ground cracking beneath each step as arcs of blue light exploded outward, forming spears and blades that shot toward them in endless succession. "I thought that I would be fighting a better duo, not some knockoff version!"
He swept his arm, detonating a wave of lunar force that sent Don crashing into a pillar. "Looks like while I've sharpened myself, you two only grew duller." He turned his gaze to Wing, who was firing relentlessly, bullets slicing curves through the night sky to find their mark.
But the Assassin wove moonlight into mirrored shields, the shots ricocheting away from its trajectory. "Separated, frayed, and diminished." He taunted, his voice cutting deeper than his weapons.
"Together you had teeth, but all those years you spent away from each other made you weak. I should thank you… it makes the hunt all the sweeter." Another shockwave thundered out as the Assassin slammed his blade into the earth, shards of blue moonlight erupting like an endless storm that rained down.
Don and Wing struggled to find cover from the barrage of attacks, the gap between their strength widening with every clash. They had no chance of finding a temporary means of rest either, with the Assassin's steps fast yet silent.
His laughter cut through the chaos, sharp and cruel. "Do you feel it now?" he jeered, a blade of moonlight spiraling from his hand and exploding against the ground in a shockwave. "This is no longer the power you once faced."
The Assassin raised his hand, letting the glow wash over him, his aura swelling unnaturally, violently bursting. It shimmered too brilliantly, making it hard for the two to keep their eyes focused.
"While others believe that gifts can't grow stronger, that the potential for growth's gone once you awakened..." he said, voice reverent, like he was declaring gospel. "I say otherwise. I found a way to make it stronger, to evolve, to make moonlight grow with me."
His moon-forged blades twisted into grotesque new forms, heavier and sharper, with their edges trembling with barely contained power. Wing's face paled, the power he was showing now, it only proved his words right. "That's impossible…"
The Assassin has found a way to evolve gifts.
He tilted his head, savoring the disbelief in Wing's eyes. "Impossible?" His smirk widened. "No. It just takes someone willing to bleed for more. To claw past the limits you all cling to. To do whatever it takes for what's eternal."
The Assassin gestured with a flourish, the moonlight around him spiraling into a crushing wave. "I am not bound like you. I am beyond." With his words, he sent the wave to crash down.
Don raised his head, seeing the Assassin's eyes. His eyes then erupted with purple flames, the boastful grin twisted to horror as he was met with excruciating pain. The sudden shock made the wave dissipate, his confident stride faltering for the first time.
His world trembled as he continued to stare into the roaring fire in Don's eyes, molten and unflinching. The pain rippled through his body with small molten chains wrapping tight around his veins.
The Assassin staggered, clutching at his head, moonlight faltering and fracturing around him. "W-What–" The words tore out of him as a choked hiss, his voice breaking under strain. "This… isn't the same as before."
Don's voice rumbled, low and searing, the flame in his eyes burning brighter the longer he held on. "All those years I've spent, looking to splatter your blood across the floor the same way you did to the Don previous to me…"
"You think I spent them idling by?" Something else was happening. Not only did his ability look stronger, but it could also be seen that The Assassin was becoming weaker. Strength slowly began surging through Don, raw and untamed.
The Assassin screamed, his knees buckling, as if his very essence was being siphoned. Wing's eyes widened in horror, this was not the partner that he knew of. "Don, stop! You'll burn yourself out!"
But Don kept his eyes fixated, unflinching as though he was stone. The purple fire roared in a gaze, threaded with veins of gold that pulsed in rhythm with the Assassin's faltering strength.
The Assassin's moonlight shattered in fragments, collapsing into sparks that were swallowed by the violent blaze. His screams grew ragged, each one more desperate than the last, his body trembling like it might collapse into dust.
The Assassin fell to one knee, hands clawing at his own flesh, voice breaking into hoarse gasps. "You… thief…" His head jerked violently, trying to resist Don's pull. His scream split into a ragged laugh, trembling but defiant. "You haven't won yet!" With a desperate wrench, he tore his gaze aside, ripping his eyes away from Don's.
Instantly, the burning weight lifted from him. The chains snapped, moonlight sputtering faintly around his trembling form. The pain lessened, but so too did Don's siphon. Don kept his eyes burning, his flames were now purple threaded with gold.
The Assassin spat blood, forcing himself upright with shaking limbs. His breathing was ragged, his frame weaker than before, but his voice still carried a venomous edge. "You think this would be enough to stop me?"
He forced a broken smirk, though his body trembled. "I thought that after all that torture your friend put me through, I would be able to handle keeping my eyes on you. Guess I'll just have to look elsewhere."
The Assassin surged forward, his body trembling but his movements remained sharp with desperation. He slashed wide arcs of moonlight across the air, shockwaves tearing through the floor. But his eyes never rose. His head tilted down, his strikes guided by the instincts he's honed through experience.
Don stepped into the storm unflinching. The golden fire threaded higher, licking against the violet blaze. "If you keep looking away, then I'll just force you to." He kept his eyes on him as he dodged, not once letting him set sights on him again.
The air itself seemed to distort around them, Don's flames gnawing at the edges of the moonlight's glow. He dove in from the side, blades flashing, pressing the Assassin harder.
His strikes came quickly and relentlessly, not once letting The Assassin lose focus. Then a gunshot rang, a bullet barely missing the Assassin's head. "They always seem to forget about the marksman."
"That's usually their worst mistake." The bullet curved midair, snapping back toward his ribs. He barely twisted away, the shot grazing his side. Another bullet spiraled wide, this time catching The Assassin's attention.
He quickly raised a shield made of moonlight on its path, only for the bullet to curve around it and slam against his arm. He hissed in pain, clutching at the fresh wound, disbelief flickering across his face.
"You're not the only one who bends the rules." He burst out all the bullets in the chamber. They scattered through the air in serpentine arcs, ricocheting off invisible points to constantly stay in blind angles.
The Assassin's movements grew more frantic, slashing with blades of moonlight to intercept them while Don kept his pressure, only to find the projectiles bending, weaving around him until the perfect moment.
"Sylira!" He barked in desperation, his voice almost breaking. "End it, now!"
No answer came.
The Assassin's eyes darted toward where he had left her. His confident smirk collapsed into a grimace as he saw that she was nowhere near where he had left her, but locked in a furious duel with another figure.
"You're on your own," Wing said coldly, his gun steady as he prepared to shoot off another round. The Assassin cursed under his breath, moonlight swirling defensively around him. For the first time, his arrogance faltered, a flash of doubt tightening his movements.
Sylira's fists cracked the air like thunderclaps, each swing reinforced by invisible hands that struck from impossible angles. Yet every strike was parried or evaded by Anora, darting in closer and closer.
A pistol roared in one hand, its bullets preventing her from staying too close. A knife gleamed in the other, flashing with lethal precision and speed. Her eyes glimmered silver, seeing beyond what others couldn't
Where Sylira's invisible hands sought to crush and bind her, Anora's sight pierced their very essence, unraveling their hold just enough for her body to slip through. They danced together, locked in a fierce battle.
Kael darted through the smoke and chaos of the battlefield, his small frame slipping unnoticed past the different clashes of powers. His eyes locked onto Thorne's crumpled form on the ground.
He rushed to the wounded man's side, tugging at him with all the strength he could muster. "Come on," Kael whispered urgently. "You can't stay here, I still need you to assist me in the future."
He half-dragged, half-carried Thorne away from the clashes, through the wreckage-strewn streets. It bore heavy on his shoulder, but didn't let go until they ducked into the shadow of a collapsed archway.
Kael laid Thorne down there gently, checking his breathing. It was shallow, but steady, in a safe enough condition for now. He exhaled sharply, wiping the sweat and ash from his brow, then peeked out from behind the rubble.
In the plaza, Anora's blade whirled wide arcs against Sylira's relentless strikes. The clash was raw and desperate, with neither side truly wanting the other's death, but both unwilling to yield.
Kael clenched his jaw, he needed to do something before either side did irreversible damage to the other. Luckily enough, he knew that Sylira was fighting only because of her brother, he just needed to find him.
All I need to do is find one person in this city, basically nothing compared to the other cases I've cracked.
His mind raced. The Free City rose like a jagged crown from the desert, its towers stacked tight against one another, climbing high into the sky. Streets wound like veins through the cramped levels, but space was scarce and eyes were everywhere.
The prisons located under the Cathedral came to his mind first. Stone vaults that swallowed political dissidents whole, filled with people labelled as dangerous in a city already filled with those who lived in the Badlands, it's a perfect repellent for those unwanted.
No, it's still too visible, Elion would want somewhere quieter, an area that's harder to trace…
Kael then thought of the cistern vaults beneath the Crimson Hall, ancient water stores from before the city turned to wells for caravans for survival. The chambers were cool and dry, forgotten by most and only used in desperate times for emergency water reserves.
Sounds like something he'd think of.
I'd probably come up with a better place though.
Kael pulled his hood up, sparing one last glance at Thorne. "You stay alive and keep quiet." He ordered him before slipping into the side streets, moving quick and quiet toward the Crimson hall.
Meanwhile, Sirius' blade rang against Adam's claws, sparks scattering into the dusty air. Each strike, each dodge, each counter left his arms heavier, his breath shorter. He had learned Adam's rhythm, turned aside the worst of the beastlike flurries, even drawn blood. To anyone watching, they seemed to be on par with each other.
But Sirius knew better. Adam's body wasn't just a storm of shifting sinew and bone, but also a well of endurance that had no bottom.
If this drags on, he'll grind me down. I'm not going to win this, better to just buy time.
He feinted left, twisted right, and the clash dragged them through the ruins of a crumbled avenue. Adam lunged, his arm splitting into something like a breast's forelimb, claws lashing.
Sirius pivoted low, his blade flashing up to cut across the tendons. Black ichor sprayed, but Adam hardly slowed, his limb reforming even as he snarled. Sirius backpedaled, breath coming sharp, his eyes never leaving the monster.
Every injury just buys me seconds. Merely nothing in the grand scheme of things.
He pressed in, striking fast. Shallow cuts across joints, a stab at the ribs, a feint toward the throat. Each was met with a counter that shook the ground. His claws would dig furrows into stone, or a fist would crack a pillar into dust.
Sirius wove through them all like a shadow, but every dodge cost him stamina, every parry wore his arms thinner. A claw grazed his shoulder, the pain flared hot. Sirius rolled away before the other one slammed his head to the wall. He barely had enough time to regain his stance before Adam was on him again, relentless.
He's not thinking. Just moving forward, his animal rage keeps him from thinking straight. But if ever he slows down enough to focus, I'm finished.
They crashed through a wall, stumbling into the ruins of an old street. Firelight and dust swirled around them, and for the first time, Sirius noticed the scorched stone beneath his boots. It was unnaturally smooth, blackened, as if lightning and sunfire had carved it.
"Don't tell me…" He risked a glance, and there it was. A circle of ruin, molten edges cooled into brittle glass, and at its center, a faint scatter of ash glowing red like dying embers. In this city, there was only one person he knew whose gift would leave this mark.
Elion.
For the briefest moment, Adam faltered too, his gaze flicking to the ruin with a low, guttural growl, something between confusion and rage. The sight triggered something in his natural instincts, telling him that the terrain meant danger.
This is my chance.
Sirius's instincts snapped like a whip. He disengaged with a sharp pivot, retreating into shadow before Adam's frenzy could return. His gaze cut across the battlefield and locked onto The Assassin.
"You took too long," Sirius muttered under his breath, "Maybe next time you should stop playing when fighting." In a blur, he closed the distance and with a swift, precise strike to the temple, he knocked him unconscious.
Don and Wing barely had a moment to process what they'd seen, but quickly regained composure. "Hey!" Don called out, his eyes burning as he snapped his gaze onto Sirius.
"Sorry, but I'm not an idiot like this guy." Sirius said as he hauled the unconscious killer over his shoulder. He dipped his head low, gaze sliding away, never meeting Don's eyes directly.
Each step he took was angled, each motion calculated to evade Don's ability. Wing opened fire, his bullets bending unnaturally as they cut around debris, curving towards Sirius's path.
He twisted sharply, letting the bullets whip past him within inches, his free hand flicking his blade to deflect the ones that seemed too bothersome to dodge. Don lunged forward, trying to force Sirius's gaze.
"Face me!" He shouted, the flame in his eyes burning brighter. Sirius' voice cut back like ice. "I know better than to look at the devil in the eyes." He vaulted over a fractured wall, carrying the Assassin with effortless balance.
Bullets chased him. Don's glare seared at his back. But Sirius slipped between them, using ruin and smoke to screen himself until the night swallowed him whole. He was gone, and so was The Assassin.
The dust slowly settled after Sirius vanished into the smoke. Don stood rigid, fists clenched, the golden fire still faintly flickering in his eyes. Wing lowered his gun, his gaze following the direction Sirius had escaped.
"Damn it," Wing muttered, reloading with a snap of his wrist. "We had him cornered there, if only Adam stuck to his target." He glanced at Don, seeing his eyes. "But you, what the hell was that back there?"
Don exhaled sharply, shoulders tense. "You mean… when I looked at him." Wing nodded. "Yeah, this isn't your gift Don. It's more powerful, you used something, something that made it better."
"It should have to do with the golden fire," He guessed, "The one that landed on the both of us." Don blinked his eyes back to normal, the fire extinguishing. "We're going to have to find out exactly what that is."
"First it was in The Caverns, and now in The Free City…" Wing's voice trailed off, his gaze distant as though piecing together a puzzle. Don frowned. "Whatever it is, we've seen it twice in important moments. We're going to have to find out whether it's the one that's been helping us…"
"Or causing our problems."