The assassin's blade met Seth's palm of light with a sound like steel scraping across stone. Sparks burst between them—some golden, some a sickly black—and the pressure of the clash rippled through the cracked street, sending bits of rubble clattering away.
The man was stronger than he looked. His stance was low, balanced; every movement wasted nothing. Seth pushed back hard, but the assassin simply absorbed the force and slipped to the side, his blade slicing toward Seth's ribs in a fluid, practiced motion.
Seth pivoted away just in time, feeling the air split beside him. A thin trace of darkness trailed after the blade, writhing like smoke before fading into the cold air.
"You're quick," the assassin said, his voice calm but edged with a faint excitement. "And the light… I didn't think anyone could still wield it."
Seth's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
The man chuckled without humor. "Names are for the living."
The street between them was still littered with shadows—the remnants of whatever trick he had used to vanish before. They slithered subtly toward Seth, almost too faint to notice unless one knew what to look for. Seth's light pulsed faintly in response, repelling them in small bursts.
He stepped forward. "I'll ask again. Who sent you?"
The assassin tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "Sent me? No one sent me. But someone will pay well for your head. You're new here, so maybe you don't understand… The moment you step onto this broken earth with something valuable, you're already prey."
His tone was too casual, but his eyes—those cold crimson points beneath the hood—watched Seth like a hawk tracking every twitch.
Seth kept his voice even. "So this is about greed."
"Survival," the man corrected. "Greed is for those who have the luxury of choice."
He moved again, sudden and fluid, like a shadow sliding free from the wall. Seth's light flared instinctively, but the assassin didn't charge directly this time. Instead, he used the rubble as cover, moving in a zigzag pattern, his blade low, looking for an opening.
Seth shifted his weight, tracking him carefully. The assassin was fast—unnervingly so—but not untouchable. Timing would be everything.
The blade came up again, aiming for Seth's neck this time. Seth caught it on his forearm, a burst of light flashing from his skin to meet the darkness. The collision burned. Not in a way he could feel in his flesh, but in his very essence. The darkness clung, biting into the light like frost into water.
Seth gritted his teeth and pushed forward, forcing the assassin back a step. The man rolled with it smoothly, springing backward onto a chunk of collapsed wall. He crouched there for a moment, assessing.
"That light… it's not just for show, is it?" the assassin murmured.
"You talk too much," Seth said flatly.
"Talking keeps me alive."
The assassin leapt down again, but this time he didn't attack. Instead, he slashed the ground in front of him. A surge of shadow burst outward, curling along the ground like ink spilling through water. The darkness spread fast, swallowing the broken street in moments.
Seth's light fought it, pushing it back in glowing ripples, but it was like trying to hold back a tide. The street darkened around him, and the air itself seemed heavier.
The assassin's voice floated through the gloom. "Lightbearers don't last long here, you know. Not without others like them. And you…" His voice came from behind, then from the left, then above. "…you're alone."
The shadows pressed in tighter.
Seth closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, then snapped them open again. A sharp pulse of light burst from his core, flooding outward in every direction. The darkness hissed and shrank back violently, revealing the assassin mid-step as he tried to close the distance.
Seth was already moving.
His fist struck forward, wrapped in a blinding glare. The assassin twisted, taking the hit along the edge of his blade to deflect most of the force, but the impact still threw him off-balance. His boots scraped against stone as he slid back several meters.
He steadied himself, blade raised again, but his breathing was heavier now.
"That's new," the assassin admitted, almost grudgingly. "But still… you're not killing me with tricks like that."
"I don't need to kill you," Seth replied. "I just need you gone."
The man smirked faintly. "Then you'll have to try harder."
Before Seth could react, the assassin dropped his blade point-first into the cracked earth. Shadows erupted upward in a violent burst, taking the shape of jagged spears. They shot toward Seth in a tight cluster, aiming for chest, throat, and legs all at once.
Seth sidestepped the first, let the second glance off his shoulder, then swept his hand outward, releasing another arc of light. The spears dissolved where it touched them, but the last one came too close, slicing a shallow cut across his arm before vanishing into smoke.
Pain flared hot along the wound, but it wasn't deep. Still, the darkness in the cut lingered longer than it should have, clinging like oil.
The assassin was watching him closely now, looking for any sign of weakness. Seth refused to give him one.
"You're better than the usual scavengers," the assassin said. "I'll give you that."
Seth's voice was steady. "And you're just another shadow that thinks it can hide from the light."
They circled each other slowly, both breathing hard but neither willing to break eye contact. The ruined street around them was silent again, save for the faint hum of the assassin's blade and the low, steady thrum of Seth's light.
The assassin moved first. He darted in low, then feinted high, spinning with a speed that blurred his form. Seth read the movement just in time, stepping back and countering with a sharp burst of light aimed for the assassin's exposed flank.
The blow connected—but only partially. The assassin twisted away, his cloak catching the worst of it and smoking faintly. He hissed under his breath, clearly irritated.
"You're starting to get annoying," the man said.
"Good," Seth replied.
Their next clash was faster, harder. Blade against light, shadow against radiance. Every strike sent cracks spiderwebbing through the ground beneath them. Rubble shifted, walls trembled. The air between them sizzled with opposing energy.
Finally, with a heavy shove, they broke apart again.
The assassin stood with his blade lowered slightly, his breathing uneven. His eyes, however, were as sharp as ever.
"This isn't over," he said quietly. "You're marked now. Others will come."
"Let them," Seth said.
The assassin's smirk returned. "Careful. Some of them won't bother talking first."
Before Seth could close the gap, the man stepped backward into the lingering shadow at his feet—and vanished. The darkness dispersed a moment later, leaving only the cracked street and the faint scent of something cold and bitter in the air.
Seth exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain just enough for his heartbeat to steady. He glanced at the shallow cut on his arm. The skin around it was faintly bruised, the mark of shadow lingering even now.
His gaze lifted toward the twisted horizon. Somewhere out there, the fragments the voice had spoken of were scattered. And if men like that assassin were hunting them…
He clenched his fist, the light pulsing faintly in his palm.
Whatever had brought him back… it wasn't going to let him rest.