Nearly a week had passed since Tomas arrived at Ben's workshop.
Day and night blurred together. Whenever Ben called, Tomas answered—sometimes after minutes of sleep, sometimes without resting at all. Each new blade failed in some way. Too fragile. Poor balance. The grip wrong by millimeters. Something was always off.
Until now.
Tomas stood across from Ben, holding the latest knife. The moment it settled into his palm, he knew. It didn't feel like a tool.
It felt like an extension.
He tested it without hesitation—driving the blade into a steel framework. No vibration. No recoil. He struck wood, then stone, measuring resistance, feedback, control. The blade held.
Then came sharpness.
A thick slab of heavy leather hung from a metal frame. Tomas stepped in, exhaled once, and cut.
The knife passed through the leather as if it weren't there at all. No drag. No resistance. Just air.
Ben stared, breath caught in his chest.
"…We finally did it," he said quietly. "This one is right."
The blade was not solid obsidian.
It was a composite weapon.
Core
A titanium–glasssteel alloy spine ran the full length of the blade, providing structural integrity, resistance to flex, and shock absorption. It ensured the weapon would not shatter under controlled force.
Cutting Edge
Bonded seamlessly to the core was a pure obsidian edge—microscopic in sharpness, jet black, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. There was no visible join. To the eye, it appeared to be a single obsidian blade.
Only Tomas knew it wasn't.
Blade Shape
A long dagger profile. Narrow. Surgical. A subtle taper designed for penetration over force, with a slight curve that guided cuts naturally. Every line existed for precision, not intimidation.
Ambidextrous Balance
Perfectly centered weight. Neutral grip alignment. The knife felt identical in either hand. Tomas could switch hands mid-motion without losing control.
"This is it," Tomas said quietly. "This is the weapon I need."
Ben nodded. "I made a sheath too. Belt-mounted. Try it."
Tomas strapped it on, slid the dagger into place, and began to move—fast steps, sudden turns. With a flick of his wrist, the blade was in his hand, drawn in a flash.
"Perfect," Tomas said. "Easy to move. Easy to draw."
Ben smiled faintly. "I didn't expect it to come together this well."
Tomas lowered his head. "Thank you. For everything. And for finishing it sooner than planned."
Then he looked up.
His face was serious. His eyes cold.
"You know what this weapon is for," he said. "I hope we don't meet again."
Ben met his gaze. "I hope you don't lose yourself walking this path."
Tomas gathered his things and left.
He returned to Viktor's estate by nightfall. As he crossed the courtyard, people greeted him politely. Inside his room, he placed the dagger beside the box containing his mask.
Then he sat on the bed.
I need to call Luis.
Luis answered quickly.
"Yeah?"
"NovaCure plans to release new drugs soon," Tomas said. "I need to know where they're stored—and where shipments will move from."
There was a brief silence.
"I've heard," Luis said. "I'll send you addresses and names. It should help."
"Thank you."
The call ended.
A knock followed almost immediately.
Tomas opened the door. Isabel stood there, adjusting her hair.
"Viktor wants to see us," she said. "We need to discuss the upcoming mission."
"Alright," Tomas replied.
As they walked, Isabel asked quietly, "I heard you've been training hard these past weeks. Aren't you exhausted?"
"No," Tomas said.
Inside Viktor's office, the three of them sat.
"It's time for our first move," Viktor began. "Isabel already knows, we're planning to approach Amber Port Logistics. We want them working with us instead of NovaCure."
"They earn heavily from NovaCure," Isabel added. "We'll need leverage."
"Their port will be used to ship NovaCure's new drugs," Tomas said calmly. "I'll stop those drugs from reaching the market. I also have information that could help convince Amber Port—but I need to know if I can trust you."
Viktor met his eyes. "You've had time to judge that yourself."
"My only condition," Tomas said, his voice steady, "is that innocent people are not harmed. If civilians suffer because of your actions, I will deal with you the same way I deal with NovaCure."
The room grew colder.
Viktor and Isabel felt it—the weight behind his words.
"Our goal is expansion," Viktor said carefully. "Jobs. Stability. We know who carries the burden of industry—and who deserves better conditions."
"I understand," Tomas said.
He placed a small USB drive on the table.
"This will help in negotiations. Evidence of NovaCure's drug composition, human testing, and harmful effects. Once this surfaces, they won't survive."
Viktor and Isabel exchanged looks.
"This changes everything," Isabel said.
At that moment, Tomas's phone vibrated. A message from Luis—addresses, warehouse locations, names of those responsible.
Tomas glanced at the screen.
"These sites are near Amber Port," he said. "We'll go there in a few days. While Isabel negotiates, I'll handle NovaCure."
"Agreed," Viktor said.
They stood to leave.
"Isabel, prepare using what Tomas gave you," Viktor added.
As Isabel exited, Viktor stopped Tomas.
"Stay a moment."
"I know you don't fully trust us," Viktor said. "But if you ever need help—ask."
Tomas lowered his gaze.
"What I'm about to do… it's safer if no one else is involved."
Viktor studied him—the sadness behind the discipline, the isolation he'd chosen.
"A lonely road," Viktor said quietly.
Tomas nodded once.
"Thank you."
And he left the room.
He returned to his room late. The house was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Tomas lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, but his mind refused to rest—plans looping endlessly, angles and contingencies forming and reforming as he thought about how to stop NovaCure's drugs from reaching the market. Eventually, exhaustion did what discipline could not, and sleep took him. Morning came quickly. As always, Tomas woke before the others and began his training, pushing his body through familiar routines until sweat drowned out thought. After several hours, he returned, stepped under the shower, and let the water wash away the fatigue. He dressed with purpose—he needed to go into the city, to buy new clothes. At the shopping center, he paused, realizing he would need a suit to pass as security, and clothing suitable for operations against NovaCure. His eyes were immediately drawn to a long black coat with a hood—stylish, loose, with wide inner pockets. Perfect for hiding the mask. The jacket would also conceal his weapon well. He bought it, then a simple black suit, loaded the bags into his car, and decided to get something to eat. Walking down the street, he noticed a restaurant near a cinema and headed toward it. Then his heart dropped. Through the window, he saw Laura and Michael sitting together, laughing as they ate and Michael takes Lauras hand they looks pretty close now, they sit close enough to the glass that there was no mistaking them. Laura was smiling. He's heart start hurting like someone stabs with dagger, atleast she's happy now, he thought. Any doubt about his decision dissolved in that moment—she was better off without him. Pain tore through his chest, sharp and unforgiving, but he forced it down, turned to leave—
—and then Laura looked up. Their eyes met.
She recognized him instantly. Her eyes widened, and she stood so abruptly her chair scraped the floor. Without grabbing her jacket, she ran outside. Tomas turned away at once, moving into the crowd, when he felt someone grab his arm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, not turning back. In the next heartbeat, he slipped from her grasp and vanished into the passing flow of people, leaving only unanswered questions behind.