The streets outside the underground arena were still alive with noise. Shouts and laughter spilled from open doorways, boots clattered against wet cobblestones, and the distant ring of a smith's hammer echoed faintly through the night. Shadow and May moved through the back alleys without a sound, their bodies blending into the shifting dark. Lanterns swayed overhead, their flickering light briefly catching on the damp, grimy walls. The air was thick with the smells of sweat, roasted meat, and smoke that clung to their clothes.
May held the coin pouch tight against her chest, fingers squeezing the leather until it creaked. Her breath came quick, excitement stirring in her voice.
"Fifteen thousand silver," she whispered, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "Shadow, this is it—we can finally get ahead. Real armor, a proper blade… maybe even a few days where we don't have to run."
Shadow walked a step ahead of her, his boots silent on the stone. His head shifted subtly, eyes scanning corners, rooftops, the shifting shadows between buildings. The tension in his shoulders was constant, like a bowstring never slackened.
They had almost reached the next turn when a faint ripple passed through the air. Shadow felt it—not wind, not sound, but a change in weight around them. His foot paused mid-step.
"Move," he snapped.
The word had barely left his mouth when the wall to their left erupted in a blast of brick and dust. The sound cracked through the alley like thunder. May flinched hard, stumbling back as fragments pelted her arms. Her chest tightened, pulse pounding against her ribs.
From the cloud stepped a massive figure, broad enough to nearly block the alley. He was easily twice Shadow's mass, his frame all dense muscle. A black cloak hung loose from his shoulders, shifting just enough to reveal two thick steel batons strapped to his back. His face was a map of scars, and when he grinned, it was slow and cruel.
"Evening stroll?" His voice was deep, casual, with an edge that cut. "How sweet."
May's hand darted toward her belt, fingers brushing the hilt of the slim dagger under her tunic. Her voice came tight. "Who the hell are you?"
The man rolled his neck. The sound was a sharp crack, followed by another. "Name's Brick. One of Lynx's guards. He sends his regards."
May's eyes shot to Shadow. He had already moved in front of her, knees bent, body low, fists clenched.
"So soon," Shadow murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Brick reached behind his back, metal scraping against leather as he drew the batons. The sound was heavy, deliberate. "After what you pulled with Shin and those little masked rats, the boss wants to see what you've got."
Shadow tilted his head, his voice calm. "You'll do."
Brick's grin widened. "Such a tiny thing, talking big. Don't worry. I'll make it quick."
May took a half-step forward, her voice sharp. "You really don't want to—"
Brick moved.
For a man his size, the speed was unnatural. The right baton came sweeping in low—straight for her head.
Shadow was already there. His forearm caught the steel with a jarring clang that echoed between the walls. The impact rattled his bones, but his other hand was already on May's shoulder, shoving her back.
"Go," he said.
"But—"
"Now."
The command in his tone was final. Her jaw clenched, eyes locked on his for a heartbeat before she turned and sprinted into a side street, boots slapping stone. She didn't look back.
Brick chuckled. "Protective? How touching."
Shadow's stance didn't shift. His weight was balanced, hands loose but ready. "Enough talk."
Brick tapped one baton against his palm, then shot upward with an explosive leap. His boots slammed onto a nearby rooftop, tiles cracking under the force.
Shadow's legs coiled, and in the next instant he was scaling the wall. Fingers found purchase on chipped brick, boots driving off the stone, his body flowing upward until he landed opposite Brick.
The city spread out below them—dim lantern light, twisting alleys, voices drifting up from the streets. Here, the air was sharper, the rooftop wide enough for one to fall hard.
Brick cracked his knuckles. "I'll grind you into the tiles."
Shadow's gaze didn't waver. "Then stop wasting time."
Brick lunged, batons swinging in wide arcs. Each swing cut the air with a dull rush, the weight behind them enough to cave in bone. Shadow shifted sideways, letting one pass just inches from his ribs, then darted in with two sharp strikes—one to the jaw, another to the side of Brick's torso. The blows landed solid, but the man's bulk absorbed them like body armor.
Brick countered, his left baton slamming into Shadow's guard. The impact jolted through his forearms, forcing him back two steps. Then the right came in, driving hard into his ribs. Pain exploded through his side, breath catching as his body slid across the roof.
"Not bad," Brick said, almost laughing. "But I've broken tougher."
Shadow exhaled, steadying his stance. "Then you'd better try harder."
Brick swung down with both batons, the force shattering tiles where Shadow had been a moment ago. Shadow rolled forward, came up low, and delivered a kick to Brick's knee. The big man grunted but didn't buckle. Instead, he caught Shadow by the collar and hurled him toward the edge.
Shadow's boots scraped the tiles, just barely catching before he went over. Brick was already charging. The next strike landed full-force against his guard, the momentum knocking him clean off the rooftop.
He dropped through the overhang of a restaurant below, wood splintering under the crash. The impact slammed through his body, his shoulder striking the floor before he rolled into a table. Porcelain shattered, soup and broth spilling hot across the boards.
The sound inside went from quiet chatter to chaos in a heartbeat. Customers screamed and scrambled for the door. Chairs clattered over, bowls rolled across the floor. The sharp scent of spilled soy and fish broth mixed with dust from the broken beams.
Above, Brick landed with a weighty thud that rattled the entire room. He straightened, stepping forward as Shadow pushed himself up. Blood trickled from the side of Shadow's head, warm against his temple.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Brick's voice was low and steady, like a hammer being raised.
"You hit like a drunk ox," Shadow answered, rolling his shoulder until it cracked.
Brick's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Let's end this."
The batons came again, faster now, the steel blurring as they struck walls, smashed tables, sent splinters flying. Shadow ducked, sidestepped, pivoted inside the arc, jabbing Brick's ribs, striking the side of his neck. The hits came in quick succession, each one aimed at a weak point.
Brick's swings grew heavier, less precise. Shadow stepped in close, elbow smashing into the solar plexus. The big man's breath burst out in a sharp grunt. A hook to the jaw snapped his head sideways. Then Shadow dropped low, sweeping Brick's leg.
Brick hit the ground on one knee, snarling, and caught Shadow by the vest. He slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack plaster.
"I'll break every bone—"
Shadow's forehead smashed into his nose. There was a sharp, wet crunch. Brick reeled back, blood gushing down his mouth. Shadow seized the opening—two quick punches to the gut, a spinning kick to the temple.
The big man staggered. Shadow's fists blurred—jab, cross, hook, uppercut, backfist. Each strike was a sharp, clean impact. The final blow sent Brick crashing into a support pillar. Wood splintered under his weight, dust filling the air.
He collapsed, batons slipping from his hands. His breaths were ragged, uneven.
Brick coughed blood. "I… I don't understand… How could one so small defeat me?"
Shadow stepped over him, voice low. "Tell Lynx… I'm coming."
Brick coughed blood, spitting it to the floor. "Y-you… you can't win. Lynx… he's the greatest in the Shadow Realm. I'm nothing compared to him."
Shadow turned toward the door. "I've heard that before."
May appeared at the entrance, eyes darting over the wreckage. The owner peeked from behind the counter, trembling. She tossed a handful of silver onto the wood.
"Sorry for the mess," she said quickly, rushing to Shadow's side. "Are you—"
"I'm fine," he said, barely glancing at her. "Let's move."
No way… he's bleeding.
The sight froze her for a heartbeat. A thin line of blood slid from his forehead, and his arm hung close to his body, twisted unnaturally. She'd never seen him like this — never imagined he could even be hurt like that. He wasn't supposed to bleed. Not him. The realization unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"Right… coming," she said, hurrying after him.
They slipped out into the night, the restaurant fading behind them.
Something shifted in the silence—too still, too quiet. A presence lingering in the shadows.
A man stepped forward—tall, lean, his movements silent. A katana rested across his back. His eyes fixed on Brick with no flicker of emotion.
Brick froze. His body trembled despite the pain already wracking it. "G-Ghost… it was Lynx's order. Don't—"
Ghost stepped forward, the silence thickening. Brick's breath hitched; his eyes darted wildly. For a heartbeat, time stretched—only the faint scrape of leather against stone broke the quiet. Then the blade flashed free in a single, fluid motion. Steel bit deep, tearing skin and muscle with a precise, wet hiss.
Brick's breath hitched, his chest tightening as a sharp pain blossomed where the blade tore through. For a moment, his mind refused to accept it—This can't be happening. Blood spilled hot and fast, slick and sticky against his skin, spreading like a dark stain across his clothes. His eyes, once fierce with arrogance, now darted wildly—searching for some impossible escape, some last shred of hope. But none came. Panic clawed at his throat, disbelief rooting him to the spot as the cold truth sank in: he was finished.
The katana slid back into its sheath with a soft click.
Ghost stepped over the body, blood spreading across the floorboards in a slow, dark circle. He glanced once toward the door.
"Ghost's voice was low, steady, almost devoid of feeling as he spoke,
"Now then, time to report what useful details I found about Shadow to Lynx."
And then he was gone.