The two stared at each other for a second.
Then they moved.
A blur of white and black.
A violent shriek of steel rang through the air.
The man had summoned a pair of gauntlets, stretching halfway up his forearms. From each, three long, curved blades jutted out — a mix of claws and swords, all pristine grey in form. It looked menacing and dangerous.
After the first impact, both landed silently, standing opposite one another. The man now stood where Jet had been a second ago. He jumped in the air and turned sharply, lunging with his right claw.
Jet took a single step back, letting the blade whistle past her nose. With perfect timing, she threw her glaive into the air. It spun once — twice — before smashing into his left arm. The man blocked with his left claw, sparks flying.
But in that instant—
BAM!
Her boot slammed into his face.
He leaned back mid-air, flipped twice, and landed hard against the ground. Before he could stabilize, Jet had already leapt high, caught her glaive in one smooth motion, and landed in a low stance.
Their eyes locked again.
But this time, the alley was too tight.
With no word exchanged, both silently shifted — speeding deeper into the shadows, away from the food stalls, through a side gate, and into the woods just behind the amusement park.
An isolated forest patch.
Good. No witnesses.
Jet twirled her glaive once, slowly this time, the blade whistling faintly through the air.
Neither of them summoned any high-tier Memories. Doing so would light the sky like a flare. Too much noise. Too much attention.
Jet had no intention of ruining the others' day. Not yet.
And the other ascended doesn't want to gain any attention.
They clashed again.
Fast.
He struck low — she blocked and pivoted. She swung upward — he leaned back. They moved like dancers trained by war, blades drawing faint lines in the dark.
But as the fight drew on… something felt off.
To Jet.
Her expression didn't change — still as calm as ever — but her thoughts?
"...Weak."
Another parry.
Another backward step.
He jumped into a three-strike combo — two slashes and a stab.
Jet deflected all three with just the shaft of her glaive.
"If he's Ascended…"
She twirled and kicked him squarely in the chest. He skidded backward through the leaves.
"And if he was sent to fight me..."
She flicked her glaive downward, cleaning the edge.
"Then why does he feel like a second-rate brute in a third-rate play?"
Truth was—
She was holding back.
A lot.
From the moment they started.
She didn't even want to fight — not really. She had only been on guard, testing him quietly. Seeing what he had. How far he'd go. If someone was ready to fight her, she knew either they are crazy or crazy strong or ...simply stupid.
She was trying not to cause a scene and just end this quick and quiet.
Jet doesn't want to appear arrogant.
But she is strong, really strong.
And above all, deadly.
Not because of her aspect, but simply it's who she is.
She expected more of a challenge from someone willing to go against her, more so since this guy clearly appears to be from one of the legacy clans.
But now?
Now she was growing bored.
He wasn't worth her full strength.
Not yet.
He was fast.
He was experienced.
But he wasn't dangerous.
Not to her.
Jet's eyes narrowed, finally letting her foot sink into the ground properly. Her grip tightened around her glaive's hilt.
"...Let's finish this already," she whispered.
But then—
Slash!
A blur of white. A sudden spike in speed.
Jet barely had time to react as a claw raked across her left arm. Blood spilled out in a sharp red line.
She gritted her teeth, bent low, and swept her leg toward his knees.
Too slow.
He'd already leapt, and his heel came crashing down toward her skull in a brutal dropkick.
Jet twisted into a backflip, throwing herself sideways. The kick slammed into the ground where she'd just stood, shattering rock and soil alike.
She landed, sliding through the dirt before coming to a stop.
A faint grimace crept across her face as she glanced at her bleeding arm.
Tch.
Good thing I took off the jacket, she thought. Would've ruined it.
At least the blood wouldn't show.
Both fighters now stood still again — a tense, silent standoff.
Then the man finally spoke.
His voice was cold. Sharp. Confident.
"I told you," he said. "Your reputation means nothing to me. I'll take you down now."
He exhaled slowly.
"I was just testing you."
And then — gone.
He vanished again, speed doubling, maybe tripling.
"Now," his voice echoed like a ghost, "witness my full strength."
CLANG!
Another clash rang out, fiercer this time.
Then another.
And another.
Trees cracked. Leaves shredded. Stones shattered.
The secluded forest behind the amusement park began to slowly but surely fall apart.
Two figures blurred between the wreckage — a flash of dark steel, a gleam of white claws. One danced with elegance. The other hunted with violence.
Jet gritted her teeth.
This—
This was his full strength?
Still too weak, she thought.
Still too slow. Too stiff. Too damn noisy. Dumbass.!!!
Her eyes narrowed, the cold glow behind them sharp as frost.
She made a decision.
Enough playing.
She let out a breath, and the moment the man lunged again—
Jet raised her hand and dismissed her glaive.
It vanished in a crackle of midnight sparks.
Gone.
The man hesitated mid-lunge — confused.
That split-second pause?
A fatal mistake.
Jet straightened her back. Her expression calm.
And just as the claws closed in—
Her real weapon appeared.
Her own hands.
They glowed faintly — a dim, eerie blue that didn't shimmer, didn't sparkle — it just burned. Quietly. Deadly.
And her body… it started to darken.
Not in color, no.
But in presence. The kind of dark that pressed down on you like gravity. That made the air heavy. That made you forget to breathe.
Her eyes darkened too. And yet somehow, they glowed even brighter. Contradiction at its finest.
She didn't say a word.
Just raised one hand, and plunged it against his chest like a spear tearing someone's heart apart.
Direct hit.
She didn't even try to punch. Just reached in — calmly, like pushing open a door.
There was no explosion. No shockwave. No dramatic yell.
Just—
Crack.
The armor under his jacket split open like glass under a hammer. And blood splattered out onto her palm.
The man staggered back instantly, mouth agape, hand clutched to his chest.
He was still standing.
Which, honestly, was impressive.
She had used her aspect.
The one that didn't cut skin.
The one that didn't break bones.
The one that sliced straight into your soul and didn't stop until it screamed.
But he had come prepared. Of course he had. Armor, enchanted or maybe even forged, specifically to resist soul-based damage. Maybe it was custom-made. Maybe it cost a fortune.
Whatever it was—
It saved his life.
For now.
Because even if the armor blocked the full blow... some of that damage had still gone through.
And Jet had hit him hard.
His soul?
Cracked. Shattered somewhere deep inside.
He wouldn't be fighting anymore.
Not today anyway.
The man vanished next — a flicker of white light, gone between the trees.
Juliet stood still.
She could've chased him.
She should've chased him.
But she didn't.
Letting him go wasn't mercy — it was calculation. She still had unfinished business. Two unconscious Awakened she'd left behind.
...Wait.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Those two.
Cursing under her breath, she turned and blurred into motion, shadows trailing behind her as she leapt through trees and rooftops, back toward the alleyway.
Too slow.
She landed, boots silent against the cobbled stone.
But the place was empty.
The crates were there. The stalls.
But no bodies.
They were gone.
Either one had woken up…
…or there were more involved than she'd thought.
She exhaled slowly. Her eyes narrowed.
Still. Not a total loss.
At least at the very end — just before her hand struck his chest — she'd seen the Ascended's face.
And Juliet never forgot a face.
Master Dave.
Of the House of Night.
One of their supposed strongest Ascended.
…Really?
That was it?
She'd been told horror stories. Stories of him cleaving through entire awakened squads. Of his clawed gauntlets soaked in blood. Of how he once fought a Saint and walked away alive. Barely, but still.
But standing there, as he vanished into the shadows like a rat crawling back to its hole, Juliet couldn't help but feel…
Disappointed.
Was he weak?
Or… had she simply become too strong without realizing it?
She sighed, brushing a hand through her hair, half-torn between pride and frustration.
She'd won the battle.
But had lost the war.
There target was never her in the first place after all.
The two awakened from earlier — the ones she knocked out — were gone now.
And with them, any chance of getting more answers disappeared.
Tch.
She clicked her tongue softly, turning her head toward the glow of the amusement park lights in the distance. Laughter. Music. Life.
And somewhere in that crowd — her family was waiting.
Well, anyways...
Juliet walked back slowly, each step measured, her breath calm.
She wiped the faint smear of blood off the side of her waistcoat with the back of her glove, then pulled her long coat from the alley's corner—right where she'd left it before the fight. It was still clean. Mostly. She shook it out once, then slipped it on, hiding the bruising ache in her arm and the tear in her shirt where the blade had grazed her.
She could feel the faint warmth of blood beneath the fabric, but nothing too bad.
No one would notice.
As she stepped out of the alley and neared the cluster of voices, her eyes fell on the four figures just a few meters ahead — Sunny, Nephis, Cassie, and Avi, all huddled near a bench under a tree with bright, glowing ribbons tied to its branches.
They hadn't noticed her yet.
She stayed quiet, leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves and brushing a few strands of hair back into place. As she listened, her hands slowly worked to tidy herself, bit by bit.
"Where did she go?" Avi whined, pouting. "She just disappeared! Must be Sunny's fault! Everything's his fault. I was gonna show her that one stupid picture of Sunny again—"
"I'm not stupid, and it's not my fault." Sunny muttered. To tired by her antics to banter her back.
Cassie giggled lightly. "You were screaming like a banshee."
Nephis, silent, gave the faintest nod.
"Traitors. I'm surrounded by traitors," Sunny sighed dramatically.
Juliet hid a smile as she cleaned a little dried blood from the edge of her sleeve.
Then, Nephis tilted her head slightly and turned to Sunny.
"…Who is Miss Juliet? To you, I mean. She seems...familiar?"
Her question while not strange, seemed to show the fact that she was having trouble with her words.
And well, somewhere in the time of there night talks with Avi, both Cassie and Nephis had learned her actual name.
The question fell gently, but there was a seriousness in her tone. One Cassie picked up on too, quietly tilting her head to listen.
Sunny paused. He looked down for a second.
"…She's…" He scratched the back of his neck, hesitant. "Our benefactor, our helper. The reason we're even here in the first place. I owe her a lot… way more than I can repay."
He glanced at Juliet's direction unknowingly.
"But more than anything… she's the older sister I never had."
There was a brief silence.
Then Nephis nodded once. "I feel that too. I think."
Cassie smiled softly. "Same."
But—
"Hey!" Avi jumped up, indignant. "She's my big sis, okay? Mine first! You can't just steal her from me like some free gift at a candy shop!"
The others chuckled.
Juliet, still standing in the background, suddenly stopped cleaning.
Something warm rose in her chest. Heavy. Full.
She'd won the fight — sure. But this moment?
This was the real victory.
Any lingering doubt, any question of whether she should've stayed out of it, vanished.
Her hand fell to her side, and she felt something wet land on her skin.
A single drop.
A tear.
She blinked, startled, lifting her fingers to look at it.
...The last time she cried was when her mother died.
Her mother's voice echoed in her memory.
"Find a good family, my precious Julie. Don't live like the rest of them. They live like animals, selfishness runs their entire being. Don't let this world break you. You're meant to shine."
Juliet closed her eyes.
She wiped her face, smiling through the remnants of that warmth. She exhaled slowly. Calm. Clear. Whole.
Then, she composed herself and walked over.
Just as she arrived—
"Big sis!!"
Avi squealed and jumped straight into her arms.
Juliet caught her effortlessly and spun her around once, laughing. "What did he do this time?"
"He was bullying me again! He told me I was loud and annoying and—"
"I said no such thing!" Sunny interjected, hands up defensively.
Juliet just grinned.
But she noticed — Nephis had gone still for a split second. And Sunny's gaze lingered just a little too long.
They'd seen the faint tear in her coat. The slightly ruffled edge of her collar. And a single, tiny spot of dried red on her underside shirt near her thigh.
Juliet smiled, calm and composed as ever.
But she cursed inside, being too taken by her emotions, she just simply forgot to fully clean her clothes.
But in their eyes — Sunny's and Nephis's — she saw it.
They knew something had happened.
But for now, no one said anything.
Because right now, they were here.
Together.
And That was all that mattered.