The air vibrated with tension. The figure of Jack the Ripper remained static for a second within the fog, her knives dripping a thin layer of blood that had grazed Mash's arm.
Leonel closed his eyes and concentrated his energy.
—Persona! —he shouted, raising his arm.
An explosion of bluish smoke and golden light burst around him, and from it emerged the imposing figure of Tezcatlipoca, shrouded in a cloak of shadows and sacred fire.
The god turned his shining eyes toward the childish figure.
—That creature... is not a child. It is the incarnation of fear, abandonment, and murder. Its strength lies in stealth, surprise... but its weakness, Leonel, is that it fights alone. Isolate it. Trap it. Do not let it escape.
Leonel nodded, and loudly shouted to his allies:
—She's fast and lethal! But alone. Don't let her move freely! Let's corner her and force her back!
Mash stepped forward, her shield raised.
—Understood, Senpai!
Drake fired a burst of magical energy from her pistols, forcing Jack to move to the left. Immediately, Artoria positioned herself on that flank, blocking the escape with her shining sword.
—You're not going anywhere! —declared the King of Knights.
Jeanne Alter appeared from the rear, her sword wreathed in darkness.
—Come on, little one. Didn't you want to play?
Jack tried to attack with a rapid sequence of slashes, but was repelled again and again. Even when she managed to get close to Leonel, Mash and Drake intercepted her movements. Artoria forced her back with each assault, and Jeanne Alter, like a shadow, closed off every avenue of escape.
A flash of energy struck her leg: Jeanne Alter had wounded her. Jack gasped, for the first time showing signs of exhaustion.
—...mommy... —she whispered softly, confused and annoyed.
Tezcatlipoca murmured coldly:
—The soul of a lost girl. The heart of a monster.
Seeing she couldn't win in that situation, Jack leaped backward, disappearing into the fog.
—She's retreating! —Mash alerted.
Leonel lowered his hand, canceling the Persona invocation while observing the direction Jack had fled.
—Don't pursue. In this fog, it would be a certain trap.
Jeanne Alter clicked her tongue.
—Tch. It was just getting fun...
Artoria slowly lowered her sword.
—This is just beginning. Jack isn't the real danger... just another piece in the game.
Drake crossed her arms, her pistols still smoking.
—This isn't any ordinary fog... and that Grail is doing very, very dangerous things here.
Leonel took a deep breath, observing his team.
—Let's proceed with caution. Tezcatlipoca, stay alert. If that girl returns... we won't underestimate her again.
The fog continued to envelop London like a shroud, but Leonel and his companions had just sent a clear message: they weren't there to be hunted.
The fog didn't cease. London remained covered in a thick, damp, poisonous veil, making every step taken with caution. The streets were deserted, only broken lampposts and the pointed roofs of Victorian houses emerged like specters from the haze.
Jeanne Alter led the advance, her sword raised and her eyes shining with tension.
—I don't like this. Not a soul for miles, but the atmosphere screams that we're being watched...
Mash walked close to Leonel, her shield held forward like a bastion of steel and magic.
—Senpai, stay close. There are no clear lines of sight and this fog reduces our perception range...
Drake watched the flanks, turning quickly at any sound.
—This feels like sailing through a storm without a compass.
Artoria stayed close, her gaze fixed ahead.
—Let's not underestimate what can hide in the fog. Jack showed us that.
Suddenly, Tezcatlipoca briefly emerged in a dark, ethereal flash before Leonel.
—Beware! There's another presence. This one is denser... older... and mortally silent.
CHAK!
A dry impact sound was heard. Mash barely managed to raise her shield when a curved, black blade slammed into it from above. The attacker vanished instantly into the fog as if he had never been there.
—Ambush! —Mash shouted.
A figure emerged from the fog, walking calmly.
He was dressed in black, covered in dark layers. His face was hidden by a skull mask, and his eyes gleamed with spectral malice. His figure wasn't imposing, but an aura of absolute death emanated from him.
—...death comes with silence... and I am its messenger.
Leonel swallowed. He knew who it was. One of the many Hassan-i-Sabbah, members of the legendary Assassin's Guild.
—A Hassan... —Jeanne Alter murmured with a mix of respect and threat.
—The silence of death is his gift... and his curse —Tezcatlipoca added in a somber tone.
The Hassan raised his arm, and multiple black daggers flew from his robes like a rain of death.
Drake fired to intercept them, while Artoria leaped forward with her sword ready, and Mash protected Leonel with her shield.
—Defensive formation! —Leonel ordered—. No one break ranks!
Battle was imminent.
The Hassan, surrounded by the fog, moved with spectral fluidity. He made no sound. He left no traces. His attacks were fast, but calculated, seeking fissures in the group's defense. This time, it wouldn't be like with Jack.
This time, death came for them with a face covered in bone and a name forgotten by time.
The Hassan moved like a specter through the fog, every step silent, every knife thrown with surgical precision. The crackle of the air being sliced was the only warning before impact. His figure seemed to fade into the shadows and reappear without warning, as if the fog itself protected him.
—Too fast! —Drake shouted, dodging by centimeters a blade that slammed into a nearby wall with lethal force.
Leonel, at the center of the group, maintained a defensive posture. Beside him, Tezcatlipoca floated like a cosmic shadow with eyes gleaming with ancient intelligence.
—He's an expert at changing rhythms —Tezcatlipoca warned—. He alternates fluidly between melee and ranged combat. His goal is to break the team's synchronization.
Leonel nodded, taking a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. —Jeanne, get closer! Keep him occupied head-on! Drake, aim for his shadow when he disappears! He's using the fog to deceive our eyes, but he can't hide his silhouette from a precise shot!
—Understood! —they both shouted in unison.
Jeanne Alter roared like a beast unleashed and lunged at the Hassan, her black sword blazing with dark fire. The assassin blocked with a knife, deflecting the blow with surprising mastery. The clash of metal resonated like a funeral bell.
Jeanne attacked without pause, seeking to break his defense, but the Hassan seemed to float, deflecting with an almost inhuman agility. A spin, a pirouette, a counter with the curved blade. A lethal dance.
Several meters away, Drake fired with precision, using the low visibility to her advantage. Every time the Hassan moved away from Jeanne to throw knives, Drake responded with a precise burst, forcing him to move relentlessly.
—He doesn't stay still for a second! —Drake muttered—. But that only means sooner or later, he'll make a mistake!
Leonel, synchronized with Tezcatlipoca, shouted new orders:
—Attack his left flank, Jeanne! He just tensed his right arm while blocking! Drake, five degrees to the right, he'll be there in three seconds!
The words were like divine commands. Jeanne changed direction instantly, slashing with force, and Drake slightly turned her pistol and fired.
The shot grazed the Hassan's arm, and Jeanne's slash tore through his cloak, causing the assassin to retreat for the first time with ragged breathing.
Tezcatlipoca murmured:
—He's wounded. Not seriously... but the balance of the fight has shifted. Now he feels the pressure.
The Hassan took a step back... and then another. The fog covered him, but his figure was no longer so ethereal. Now he was a man facing hunters who had learned his rhythm.
—Jeanne, Drake —Leonel said firmly—. Get ready. This time, we're hunting the assassin.
The Hassan kept moving with terrifying speed, but the combined pressure from Drake and Jeanne Alter had pushed him to the limit. Every shot forced the assassin to change direction, and every lunge from Jeanne Alter was more furious than the last. The Avenger smiled fiercely, almost crazed by the battle's rhythm.
—You won't run from me, cowardly assassin! —Jeanne Alter shouted, her sword cutting the air with dark violence.
Drake let out a wild laugh, firing nonstop. —We've got you cornered, ghost! Are you going to run like a mouse or die like a man!?
The Hassan didn't respond. Instead, he spun sharply, launched a curtain of knives to force distance, and leaped into the fog. His silhouette flickered among the shadows, blurring with each step.
—No! —Jeanne Alter growled, throwing herself after him—. YOU'RE NOT ESCAPING!
But when she reached the spot where he had been... no one was there.
Silence.
Only fog.
Drake lowered her pistols, clicking her tongue in annoyance. —He fled like a damned ghost... again.
Jeanne Alter stared into the fog with clenched teeth, frustration in every fiber of her being. —Coward! I had him!
Leonel approached alongside Mash, who kept her shield raised and her gaze attentive to their surroundings.
It was then that Tezcatlipoca spoke gravely:
—It's not just fog... this phenomenon has a complex magical pattern. It's not a defense. It's a system of surveillance and tracking. All of London... is being monitored.
Leonel frowned. —By whom?
Tezcatlipoca floated higher, scanning the surroundings with his divine energy. —I don't know yet. But the fog isn't simply poison: it's designed to cover movements, hide magical signatures... and observe. As if we were rats in a maze.
Mash tightened her grip on her shield. —Then we can't continue like this. If we keep moving without a plan, we'll suffer more ambushes.
Leonel nodded seriously. —We need to find shelter. A place the fog can't reach, at least for a while. A point for analysis, where we can plan our next move.
—I'd gladly lead the search —Drake interjected—, but this fog is thick even for a pirate like me.
Jeanne Alter sighed, visibly annoyed. —And here I thought I'd at least rip one of these assassins' heads off...
Leonel observed the dense fog and thought aloud:
—This is different. This Singularity is already proving more complicated than the previous ones. We need to move with more caution... and less confidence in what we think we know.
Tezcatlipoca nodded solemnly.
—Prepare yourselves. London is alive... and it is watching us.
London stretched before them like a cursed labyrinth. The streets were indistinguishable from one another, wrapped in fog so thick that even lamplight seemed to drown in the darkness.
Leonel walked ahead alongside Mash, her shield firm and her gaze alert. Drake and Jeanne Alter covered the flanks, while Artoria guarded the rear with her sword ready. The tension in the group was palpable, and fatigue was beginning to take its toll on everyone.
—We've been walking for hours without a fixed direction... —Drake murmured, exhaling in frustration—. This isn't fog anymore. It's a damned swamp of magic.
Tezcatlipoca, manifested above Leonel with his ethereal and solemn presence, projected a flash from his shining eyes as he analyzed the surroundings.
—The haze is saturated with magical energy at abnormal levels. This is no common curse. It's a massive magical construct, and the Holy Grail is at its heart.
—Are they using it as a catalyst? —Mash asked.
—That's right —Tezcatlipoca confirmed—. The Grail is feeding this fog. Its power is so intense it distorts perception, suppresses tracking magic, and even conceals spiritual presences. That's why our opponents find us... but we can't track them.
Leonel clenched his fists.
—We need a safe place. We can't keep on as prey.
Walking a few more blocks, the fog began to lessen slightly at a forgotten intersection. To one side, an old Victorian mansion stood like a shadow within the mist. The house seemed intact, which was already strange amidst the chaos. Its windows were closed, but no light came from inside.
—That place... —Tezcatlipoca stopped, his aura trembling with a strange mix of relief and suspicion—. Here... there's a neutral magical space. The fog doesn't penetrate with the same intensity. The walls have ancient inscriptions... protective runes. They're not British... they look Greek.
Drake whistled. —A mansion with a magical security system? Now this is getting interesting.
—Is it safe? —asked Jeanne Alter, still wary.
Tezcatlipoca nodded. —Safe enough to rest. I detect no hostile presence. The runes are still active... someone placed them to protect this place from the inside out. Not the other way around.
Leonel approached the main door, placed his hand on the handle. The feeling was... odd. Not like entering enemy territory, but as if the building were waiting.
—Let's go in. We have no choice —he said, opening the door.
The interior was silent, covered in dust, but strangely clean. The furniture was in place, the curtains closed, the fireplace cold but still with fresh ashes. Mash lit a lamp, and for the first time since arriving in London... they could see clearly.
—It seems someone lived here until recently... —Artoria murmured.
—Whoever it was, they're gone now —Jeanne Alter added—. Either they vanished with the fog, or they were smarter than us and left beforehand.
Leonel set his bag on a dusty table. He breathed deeply.
—This will be our base of operations for now. We'll reorganize here, analyze the fog, track the Grail's source... and this time, we won't let it slip away.
Tezcatlipoca closed the door with a magical aura that reinforced the defenses.
—And stay alert... if this house was protected, it was also valuable to someone. Perhaps we can find clues here... about who controls the fog... and what they plan to do with London.