Edward's pulse thudded in his chest, each beat echoing against the stillness of the woods. He froze, every instinct screaming at him to move—but the scarred man's voice had already reached him.
"I knew I felt some mana presence behind me," the man said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
"Mana presence?" Edward's mind raced for an answer, but nothing came. "What the hell is mana presence?"
The term was unknown to him.
He was almost certain he had stayed quiet enough and kept enough distance to remain unnoticed. However, if something outside of his expertise was involved, something that only exists in this world, then it was no wonder the man had noticed his presence.
"Oh… I was just lost," he said, his voice forcibly calm. "Do you know the way to—"
The man didn't wait for the sentence to finish.
With a roar that shook the nearby trees, he swung the warhammer.
Edward rolled to the side, barely avoiding the weapon as it slammed into the ground where he had just stood. Leaves and debris exploded upward from the impact.
"He's fast!" Edward noted as he scrambled backwards, his eyes tracking the scarred man's every movement.
Each of his swings was heavy and precise, yet there was something unsteady about it. The presence of alcohol in the man's system was clear. Each of his strikes was slightly off balance, leaving just enough room for him to evade them.
Edward's mind ran in circles, thinking faster than he ever had. He hadn't come here to confront the man—only to investigate and report back to the Chief.
Perhaps he had pushed his investigation too far. He already knew who the killer was, yet his curiosity and draw toward mysteries had pulled him dangerously close to the fire. Now, he was about to get burned.
His eyes scanned his surroundings for an escape route, but no clear path emerged—only rough trails and blocked passages, none wide enough to put any real distance between them.
Then, before he could formulate a plan, the man lunged forward once more.
Edward sidestepped just in time, feeling the wind of the weapon whip against his hair as it slammed into the muddy ground.
"How the hell am I supposed to fight this monster without any weapon?!"
And then, as if answering his unspoken thought, a shadow cut through the air before him.
A figure emerged from the darkness, jagged and dark, yet humanoid in shape. It held a blade made of the very same thing as its body. It was the very same Shadow Soldier who told Edward about the scar, this man's victim.
The scarred man's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What the hell is that thing?" he growled, swinging the warhammer at it.
The shadow soldier moved with unnatural speed.
It intercepted the strike with an unyielding force. The impact sent a tremor through the air, but the shadowy figure held its ground.
Edward's chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched, unable to hide the faint, ironic smile tugging at his lips. His victim, now some form of undead soldier, was standing against the man who had taken his life.
The scarred man staggered slightly, his drunk body losing its balance.
He attacked again, fury burning in his eyes, but the shadow soldier blocked each strike with precise, unrelenting efficiency.
Each block, each deflection, each time he missed increased the man's growing frustration.
Edward couldn't help but allow himself a flicker of satisfaction. The irony of the man's very victim now fighting against him, but the unsettling unease never truly left him.
The scarred man's swings grew wilder, his brute strength clashing against the shadow soldier's calculated defence. Sparks of dark energy flickered with each impact. Wood splintered and soil scattered as warhammer met shadowy figure.
Then, after a long barrage of attacks, the man finally found a gap.
With a savage roar, he tore through the shadow soldier, sending pieces of darkness scattering like smoke in the wind.
[Shadow Soldier had been eliminated.]
Edward's eyes widened at the sight.
He had hoped the Shadow Soldier would hold the man for longer, perhaps even win, but the scarred man was fueled by never-ending rage.
The scarred man's chest heaved, sweat and blood mixed along his scarred face. His breath came ragged, and his grin widened into something feral.
He turned slowly, eyes locking onto Edward.
Blood dripped from a shallow gash along his arm, staining the earth beneath his boots. Yet the look in his eyes was that of pure malice. It was the look of a predator who found his next prey.
Their eyes locked, and only one word came to Edward's mind.
"Fuck."