"NII-CHAN!"
Hikari's scream tore through the air, raw with panic as knowing she can't do anything to save him.
Hayato coughed, spitting out a bit of blood as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. A fresh cut dripped blood from his forehead, trailing down the side of his face. His glowing facial markings flickered erratically, his energy surging and waning.
Nyx's dark aura intensified, pulsing ominously as he lifted both hands.
"Even after all this time, you're still not strong enough to beat me," he mused, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "What a complete and utter letdown"
Then, with a flick of his wrist, dozens of jagged black spears materialized in the air around him.
Each spear pulsed with raw darkness, their edges sharp enough to carve through solid rock. The moment they finished forming, they hovered ominously for just a second—then shot downward like a deadly storm.
"Shadow Spear Barrage."
The spears rained down
"NII-CHAN!" Hikari's voice was shrill with panic. "HAYATO!" Saeka yelled as she reached out her hand.
Hayato was about to be killed.
Until—
A hooded figure stepped in and saved Hayato by grabbing him and moving him out of the way of the attack, cloak rippling like storm-split waves. He had emerged as though he'd been stitched into the fabric of the crowd itself—a thread of shadow quietly pulled loose until he stood apart, unmistakably present, like a ghost choosing to become flesh.
The hood concealed his face, but his posture was effortless, dangerous—shoulders relaxed, one hand still raised from catching one of Nyx's strikes barehanded, the other carrying Hayato. For a moment, silence returned, but now it pulsed with something else: a low, thrumming tension. Like the hush before lightning strikes.
"Aren't you a little too eager?" the hooded stranger said, voice calm, steady as falling rain.
The air around them thickened, carrying with it an otherworldly presence—something ancient, something powerful. The breeze was sharp, unnatural, almost sentient, twisting through the battlefield like a living force.
Nyx hesitated, his dark aura flickering for just a second. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the surroundings, his instincts suddenly on high alert.
Who the hell… are you?
The very ground beneath them trembled slightly, the subtle vibration sending a ripple through the dust and debris. The air crackled—not with Hikari's electricity, but with something even more primal.
The fight has taken an unexpected turn. And none of them knew why. No one knew his name.
The square had fallen into a stunned silence.
The embers of fallen torches crackled softly in the background, the scent of scorched wood mingling with the dust kicked up from the battle. The villagers stood frozen in place,as their gazes locked onto the new arrival from in their homes and shops. Even the wind itself seemed to hush in reverence.
The hooded stranger's presence was suffocating—not in the way Nyx's oppressive darkness spread like a creeping infection, but in something far more refined. More controlled. It was as if the very air around them bent to their will, moving in rhythm with their measured breaths.
Each step they took was deliberate, effortless. A young man clad in a modern black martial arts outfit designed for both function and intimidation. His hooded uniform, dark and streamlined, clings to his athletic frame, its design accented by subtle gold fastenings and reinforced stitching. The fabric flows like a combat gi but is tailored with a tactical edge, suggesting he's no ordinary fighter. His amber eyes burn with unwavering focus beneath his tousled black hair, and the hood casts a brooding shadow over his sharp features. With a battle-hardened look and quiet intensity, he exudes the aura of a warrior who has trained relentlessly—and isn't afraid to face what comes next.
Nyx, once the embodiment of arrogance and control, instinctively stepped back. His breath hitched—just for a second—but in that moment, it was clear. He had felt it.
The weight of something greater. For the first time since he arrived in this village, he wasn't the one casting fear.
His expression twisted in irritation as he fought to maintain his composure, shadows writhing defensively around his enhanced arms. His voice was sharp, demanding, but just barely hiding the thinly veiled unease beneath.
"I said," WHO. THE HELL. ARE YOU!?"
No answer. He set Hayato on the ground.
The stranger's golden eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of their hood, piercing and unrelenting. They did not flinch, did not waver—just watched. Studied. As if stripping Nyx down to his very essence, past flesh and bone, straight to the soul.
The silence stretched, the weight of it growing unbearable.
Nyx's fists clenched, frustration flickering across his face. "Tch. Listen I don't know exactly what your deal is, but I still have some business with that boy there. So if you can be so kind, hand him over, and when I'm done with him, Your Next. "
The stranger did not reply.
Instead, he shifted ever so slightly—one foot forward, a stance balanced between stillness and the promise of devastating force. It was not an overtly aggressive movement, nor a blatant threat. And yet—
The very air collapsed. It was instantaneous.
An invisible pressure surged outward, thick and crushing, like the gravity of the world itself had folded inward at the stranger's command. The square trembled, dust kicking up in swirling tendrils.
Nyx's entire body seized. His enhanced muscles, built for raw power, failed him. His breath hitched, his vision blurred for a fraction of a second. His knees buckled.
"Gh—!"
Even Hayato, bruised and battered, felt it.
His wind energy flickered erratically in response, as if his very element was bowing to the overwhelming force before him. He sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers curling into the dirt beneath him. This wasn't mere strength.
This was mastery. Not just of power. But of control.
Chi—pure, refined energy—flowed effortlessly around the stranger. Unlike Nyx's crude, overpowering darkness, this force felt precise, as if it existed in perfect harmony with the world around it.
Nyx struggled.
His teeth ground together, his veins bulging against his skin as he summoned all the darkness he had. Shadowy tendrils lashed out wildly, desperate to break free. But the moment they met the stranger's presence—
They dissolved. Faded. As if they had never even existed.
Nyx let out a snarl, his voice raw with frustration. "You bastard!"
The stranger relaxed their stance. And just like that—
The suffocating pressure lifted.
Nyx gasped for air, staggering back, his enhanced body twitching involuntarily from the aftershock. His once-mighty aura flickered unsteadily, like a candle on the verge of going out.
For the first time, his mask of unshakable confidence cracked.
It was brief. A fleeting flicker of fear.
His eyes darted between Hayato and the stranger, searching for something—anything—that could explain what just happened.
His breathing was ragged. His jaw clenched. His ego screamed at him to fight back, to not give in. But his instincts? They were screaming louder.
Nyx took a slow step back, his expression darkening. "This isn't over." His voice was lower now, not as sharp, not as confident. More bitter.
The stranger didn't move.
Nyx hesitated for only a moment longer before turning on his heel. His remaining gang members, still visibly shaken, picked up all of the fallen members and scrambled to follow him. Their footsteps hurried and uneven. The sound of their retreating vehicles filled the night air, engines roaring as they sped away, disappearing into the distance. Nyx had to run.
The Square remained silent.
No one moved. No one spoke. The villagers, still half in shock, barely breathed. Their eyes flickered between Hayato—bruised but standing—and the hooded stranger who had forced Nyx to flee.
For the first time in a long while…
The Square was still. The echoes of the battle had faded, but the tension in the air remained, thick and unshakable. Smoke curled from toppled lanterns, casting flickering shadows against the battered stalls. The scent of charred wood and dust clung to the wind, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
Slowly, the villagers began to emerge from their homes and shops, cautious and hesitant. Some peeked from behind wooden stalls, while others stepped out of doorways, their eyes scanning the scene as if unsure whether it was truly over. Their gazes flickered between the scattered remnants of Nyx's gang and the hooded stranger who had turned the tide.
Hayato leaned heavily against a nearby wall, his breath uneven. His body ached—every bruise, every cut, every wound and strained muscle reminding him of just how close they had come to losing. His wind energy had nearly run dry, his glowing markings dimmed to a faint flicker.
Yet, he was still standing.
His sharp eyes flicked toward the hooded stranger, filled with a mixture of gratitude and wariness.
"Thanks" he managed, his voice rough, each word tasting like dust.
Hikari was at his side in an instant, her glowing eyes wide, still charged with lingering energy and adrenaline. Her fingers twitched, her body coiled with unspent tension. She turned her gaze to the stranger, curiosity burning in her expression.
"Who are you?" she asked, taking a step closer. "Why did you help us?"
The stranger stood motionless, their presence still exuding the same unshakable calm they had displayed moments ago. Their golden eyes, sharp and unreadable, flickered toward Hikari for the briefest moment before shifting away.
No response. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, without a word, the stranger turned on his heel, his vibrant kimono swaying with each step. The delicate gold embroidery shimmered in the fading torchlight, a stark contrast to the destruction around them.
"Hey!" Hayato called after them, pushing himself off the wall, ignoring the sharp protest of his ribs. His frustration seeped into his voice. "At least tell us your name!"
The stranger paused mid-step. The faintest breeze carried the stillness between them, the world holding its breath.
For a moment, Hayato swore he saw something in their eyes—recognition, hesitation, something unspoken.
But then—
Nothing.
The stranger simply turned away and continued walking, their figure fading into the darkness of the alleyway, swallowed by the very shadows they had emerged from.
Gone.
As if they had never been there in the first place.
Hikari let out an irritated huff, her fists balling at her sides. "What was that about?" she muttered. "He just shows up, saves us, and then disappears without a word? Who does that?"
Hayato exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled white hair, his brows furrowed. "I don't know." His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. His gaze lingered on the empty alleyway, his mind racing with questions.
Who was he and why did he help us?
The wind stirred around them, carrying with it the weight of lingering uncertainty. The battle was over, but the war had only begun.
Nyx would return. Stronger. Angrier. More ruthless than ever.
And Hayato knew that when that time came, they would have to be ready.
For now, they had survived. And that was enough.
But as he stood there, bruised and battered amidst the wreckage of the fight, only one thought echoed in his mind—
Who was that stranger? But more importantly… What was he really after?