Rain drizzled over Veylport, the streets gleaming like black glass. Broken lanterns swayed lazily, casting shadows that shifted and writhed like living things. Rayon's violet eyes scanned the aftermath of the fight: twisted metal, cracked cobblestones, and the faint smoke of destroyed shadow constructs.
Draven Maltheus knelt on the ground, blood streaking his armor, breathing raggedly. His twin blades had been shattered, his shadow constructs devoured, and every strike had only fed Rayon's Insanity. Yet, somehow, the man lived.
Erethon: Predictable… human stubbornness. Delicious, though.
Rayon walked over casually, hands in pockets, his coat trailing like a shadow made flesh. He crouched in front of Draven, letting the black strings on his wrists twitch lightly.
"Call them," Rayon said, calm as ever, voice smooth like silk but laced with lethal intent. "Call the strongest members of the Awakeners. Let them know who's here. Tell them… I'm waiting."
Draven's lips trembled. "Y-you won't kill me?"
Rayon smirked faintly, leaning back slightly. "Why would I? You're more useful alive than dead. Alive… you're a messenger. Dead… you're nothing."
Vorthalaxis hissed softly, coiling tighter around Rayon's arm. "Master… your arrogance… it's… radiant."
Rayon chuckled, standing and stretching casually, his black strings flexing subtly, crackling with latent energy. "Sit." He waved a hand lazily. "You… kneel all you want. I'm done playing right now."
Draven hesitated, but instinct and exhaustion drove him to obey.
Then Rayon did something utterly ridiculous. He reached a shattered chair nearby, picked it up, and sat like royalty, one leg draped over the other, eyes scanning the streets like a predator surveying its prey. His coat flared slightly, hair lifting faintly from the residual energy of the Insanity state.
Erethon: Oh, look at him… sitting there, waiting. The audacity. I adore it.
Rayon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, chin in his hand, violet eyes glinting with amusement.
"You see that, Vorthalaxis?" he murmured. "He's going to run back, trembling, screaming like a child, and call everyone. Every single one of them. And I'll wait. Oh… I'll wait."
The black strings on his arms twitched, responding to his thoughts, subtly binding the nearby shadows and letting them stretch along the rooftops, a silent signal of the chaos about to descend.
Erethon: Yes… yes… I can feel it. The world's about to notice. The Insanity spreads.
Rayon shifted slightly in his chair, barely moving—but every subtle movement screamed control. Like a predator that had died and come back with every power, every instinct sharpened, he radiated dominance.
He didn't need to move to threaten; the city itself seemed to bend to his presence. Rain fell slower near him, shadows thickened, and even the distant cries of the city seemed muffled, as if anticipating the carnage that would follow.
Rayon (smirking to himself): This… this is fun. Waiting, watching… feeling them squirm before the feast begins.
Vorthalaxis coiled around his arm, smaller now but still radiating latent power.
Vorthalaxis: Master… I can feel their fear, their anticipation. It's palpable.
Rayon leaned back further, hair glinting faintly, hands still in pockets. "Let them come," he murmured. "I'll give them a show they'll never forget."
Erethon's voice, sardonic and gleeful, echoed in his mind. "And the best part… they'll think they're hunting you. But you… you've already devoured the battlefield before they even arrive."
Rayon's grin widened faintly, eyes sparkling with the thrill. Every raindrop, every shadow, every slight tremor in the air fed his dopamine, feeding the Insanity. The city itself became his stage.
Draven's knees shook. He could barely stand, barely think. The man had survived Rayon's Insanity-fueled assault, yet now he watched the very embodiment of a predator sit calmly, like a king, waiting for his guests.
Rayon's voice cut through the rain like a whip. "Go on… run. Call them all. Tell them the Escaper of Veylport is here. Tell them the one they've been warned about… the one they thought they understood… is laughing at them."
Draven swallowed, eyes wide. Every instinct screamed to flee, to hide, to pray—but the strings binding his mind made hesitation impossible. His only choice: obey.
He scrambled to his feet, legs trembling, and ran into the shadows of the city. Rayon barely shifted, yet he radiated an aura that could crush mountains, and every step Draven took felt like dancing on a knife's edge.
Erethon: Ah… yes. This is it. The world is about to tremble, and we're sitting here, waiting. Perfect.
Rayon leaned back further, crossed one leg over the other, and let the rain wash over him.
Rayon (softly, to himself): Let them come… all of them. Let's see how many can handle the Escaper.
Above the city, the wind whispered through shattered streets and abandoned alleys. Somewhere, far off, the strongest members of the Awakeners were being alerted. They would converge on this point soon…
And the predator, sitting in a chair like a king, hands in pockets, was ready to devour them all, fully aware of his power, fully enjoying the moment, and laughing in the face of fate.
Erethon: Oh, this is going to be glorious… very, very glorious.
The city itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the storm that was about to descend.