The night was quiet. Too quiet.
Dark sat on the edge of the balcony at Tier's home, his gaze fixed on the city below. The faint hum of neon lights flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow over the sleeping streets. In his hand, the Kyuketsu rested lightly, its blade dull, almost reflective in the pale moonlight. The air was cool and calm, yet something tugged at the edges of his mind—a tension he couldn't shake.
Inside, the others had finally gone to bed. Lara had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up against him on the couch before he'd carried her to one of the rooms. Even now, the warmth of her presence lingered on his skin, but it wasn't enough to ease the growing unease in his chest.
Dark: (thinking, gripping Kyuketsu tightly) What is this feeling? It's like... something's coming.
The wind shifted, rustling the edges of his cloak. Dark stood, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. Nothing seemed out of place, but the air itself felt heavier, like the world was holding its breath.
Dark: (softly) Alright, Cosmic. If this is your doing, just show yourself already.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the stars above flickered. It was subtle at first, as if a thin veil was being drawn over them, but soon the entire sky shimmered, the constellations bending and twisting unnaturally.
Dark didn't move. He knew better than to react to something he couldn't see. His grip on Kyuketsu tightened, the blade humming faintly in his hand.
And then, it came.
A single voice. Soft, yet resonant. Calm, yet unyielding. It wasn't a voice Dark heard with his ears—it echoed in his very soul, reverberating through every fiber of his being.
Cosmic: Dark.
Dark's breath hitched, his body instinctively tensing. He turned slowly, but there was no one there. Only the voice.
Cosmic: You have tread paths most cannot. Yet the ripple of your steps carries far beyond your sight.
Dark: (gritting his teeth) If this is about the system, save it. I'm done with your games.
Cosmic's voice didn't waver, remaining calm yet undeniably heavy.
Cosmic: The system was but a fragment of balance—one you disrupted, rebuilt, and erased again. Yet what lies ahead will not be so easily undone.
Dark frowned, his gaze darting toward the horizon as if searching for the source of the voice.
Dark: (thinking) What lies ahead? What's he talking about now?
Cosmic: Your world. Your shadows. They are no longer yours alone.
Dark's eyes narrowed, his voice sharp.
Dark: (coldly) Stop talking in circles. If you have something to say, say it.
For the first time, there was a pause. A silence so deep it felt as though the world itself had stopped moving. Then, Cosmic spoke again, softer this time, almost... solemn.
Cosmic: He is coming.
Dark's blood ran cold, but he refused to let it show.
Dark: (low, defiant) Who?
Cosmic didn't answer. Instead, the stars above flickered one last time before stabilizing, their light burning brighter than before. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, leaving Dark alone on the balcony, his crimson eyes locked on the horizon.
Dark: (thinking, gripping Kyuketsu) He is coming. Who the hell is 'he'?
Hours passed, and the unease in Dark's chest refused to fade. The others had woken by now, their voices filling the house as they went about their morning routines. Lara's laughter drifted up from the kitchen, and for a brief moment, it almost eased his tension.
Almost.
Dark sat in the living room, Kyuketsu resting across his lap as he sharpened the blade with slow, deliberate strokes. The sound of metal on stone was soothing, but his mind remained on Cosmic's words.
Dark: (thinking) He is coming. Whoever this 'he' is, he'd better be ready.
Lara appeared in the doorway, her head tilted as she watched him.
Lara: You're brooding again.
Dark glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Dark: (dryly) Seems to be my specialty.
She crossed the room, sitting beside him and resting her head on his shoulder.
Lara: Whatever it is, we'll handle it. Together.
Dark didn't respond immediately. Instead, he set the Kyuketsu aside and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.
Dark: (softly) I know.
The first sign of trouble came at dusk.
The sky darkened unnaturally, the horizon tinged with hues of crimson and gold. The air grew heavy once more, and the shadows stretched longer than they should have. Dark stood at the window, his body tense as he watched the unnatural colors bleed across the sky.
Cron: (from behind) You feel it too, huh?
Dark turned, his expression grim.
Dark: Yeah. Something's wrong.
Tier and Leona joined them in the room, their expressions mirroring Dark's unease. Gilmuar lingered in the doorway, his normally jovial demeanor replaced with quiet concern.
Leona: (muttering) This feels... bad.
The house shuddered. It was faint, like a distant earthquake, but enough to make everyone freeze. Dark's hand moved instinctively to the Kyuketsu, the blade pulsing faintly as he gripped it.
Dark: (quietly) Stay here. I'll handle this.
Before anyone could argue, Dark stepped outside. The streets were eerily silent, the city bathed in the unnatural light of the crimson-gold sky. He walked slowly, his senses on high alert, the Kyuketsu humming faintly in his hand.
Then, he saw it.
A figure stood in the center of the street, bathed in a faint glow. Black and white wings spread wide, their opposing colors creating a stark contrast against the bleeding sky. The figure's mismatched eyes—one gold, one black—locked onto Dark with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine.
Azraelis: (smirking) So, this is the one. The so-called 'Future Emperor.' You're... smaller than I expected.
Dark's grip tightened on the Kyuketsu as he stepped forward, his voice cold.
Dark: And you are?
Azraelis chuckled, the sound low and resonant.
Azraelis: You may call me Azraelis. But names don't matter, do they? What matters is this... (he gestures to the sky) ...the beginning of the end.
Dark's eyes narrowed, his voice sharp.
Dark: If you're here to start something, you'd better be ready to finish it.
Azraelis tilted his head, his smirk widening.
Azraelis: Oh, I'm not here to fight. Not yet. Consider this... an introduction.
The shadows around him deepened, coiling like living things as his voice dropped to a whisper.
Azraelis: Tell me, Dark. How does it feel to be hunted?
Before Dark could respond, Azraelis vanished, leaving only the faint echo of his laughter behind. The sky returned to its normal hues, and the oppressive weight lifted, but Dark's chest burned with unanswered questions.
Dark: (thinking, furious) Hunted? We'll see about that.
End Of Both Arc 3 And Arc 3 Chapter 15.