Tristan took a single step backward as Ripper charged toward him, a storm of metallic utensils trailing in his wake. Tristan tracked his movements for only a brief moment before lunging forward himself, leaving Amelia behind. With the slightest twitch of Ripper's finger, the utensils shot through the air. They sliced across the battlefield with shrill, hissing cries, the sound of sharpened steel cleaving through the wind.
Tristan halted abruptly and drove his hand into the ground, subtly altering its properties. A section of earth surged upward, forming a makeshift wall that intercepted the incoming barrage. Knives, forks, and jagged metal fragments embedded themselves into the stone with violent force.
Ripper vaulted over the wall without hesitation, raising one clawed hand as he descended. His metallic talons slashed through the air with the precision of scissors cutting parchment.
Tristan stepped back at the last possible instant. Even so, the razor-sharp claws grazed his lower lip, drawing a thin line of crimson that slowly trickled down his chin.
He tightened his grip on his obsidian blade with both hands and settled into his defensive stance, patiently waiting for Ripper to make the next move.
Ripper landed in a crouch after his previous assault. His breathing grew heavier as his cold eyes remained fixed on Tristan. Tristan subtly adjusted his grip on Promise Keeper, shifting his fingers along the hilt while repositioning his footing, waiting for the perfect moment to respond.
Just as Ripper prepared to launch himself forward once more, a massive black axe spun between them.
Both Tristan and Ripper instinctively looked upward.
Standing atop the balcony's railing overlooking the hall was a golden-haired young man.
Garfield.
Without hesitation, he leaped from the balcony, the marble floor cracking beneath his boots upon impact. He spared Ripper only a brief glance before shifting his attention to Tristan.
Rushing toward the weapon embedded in the ground, Garfield bent down, gripped the haft of his axe, and wrenched it free. In one seamless motion, he hurled the second axe toward Ripper while charging toward Tristan with the first still firmly in hand.
Ripper casually deflected the spinning axe into the air.
Garfield closed the remaining distance in an instant. Swinging his axe toward Tristan's head with overwhelming force. Tristan ducked beneath the strike. But Garfield had anticipated the movement. His knee crashed into Tristan's face the moment he lowered himself, knocking him to the ground.
Before Garfield could capitalize on the opening, Tristan drove his boot into Garfield's stomach, forcing him backward long enough to regain his footing.
Ripper wasted no time.
He lunged toward the stumbling Garfield, his metallic claws poised to cleave straight through his skull.
Tristan reacted instinctively.
He seized Garfield by the arm and yanked him to the ground just as Ripper's claws sliced through empty air.
The instant Ripper overextended, Tristan met the failed attack with Promise Keeper, forcing the metallic claws aside before sweeping Ripper's legs from beneath him.
Ripper crashed onto his back.
Tristan immediately planted the tip of his obsidian blade against Ripper's chest.
"Like I said," Tristan muttered, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them, "I'm not here to fight you."
Before either of them could move, a massive stone hand erupted from the ground. Its rocky fingers wrapped around Tristan's body, locking him firmly in place.
He struggled violently, twisting from side to side in an attempt to free himself before finally turning toward Garfield, who approached with slow, measured steps.
"Tristan Merigold," Garfield declared solemnly, "you are under arrest for the murder of a citizen of Constella... and for the suspected murder of Lord Chancellor Hector."
Tristan stared silently at Garfield.
His brother.
A faint smile appeared on Tristan's face, though behind it he could clearly see how the months apart had changed Garfield.
"So what..." Tristan said between strained breaths as he fought against the stone prison. "You're your father's dog now... doing whatever he tells you?"
"I don't owe you an explanation," Garfield replied coldly.
Amelia rushed over, grabbing Garfield firmly by the wrist.
"Stop, Garfield! He's our friend. You know that if you hand him over, they'll execute him."
Garfield averted his gaze, refusing to meet her eyes.
"He must answer for his crimes."
Amelia slowly shook her head.
"No," she said softly. "You don't even believe that."
As the argument unfolded, Ripper slowly rose to his feet. His crimson eyes settled upon Garfield. Without a word, he raised both hands toward the ceiling, his fingers curling into tight fists.
Amelia noticed the movement first.
Her eyes widened.
"What's he doing?"
Tristan looked upward.
The massive crystal chandelier suspended above the ballroom trembled violently. Thousands of glittering crystals swayed from side to side, reflecting countless fractured lights throughout the room.
Then Ripper violently pulled both hands downward.
The chandelier obeyed.
It tore free from the ceiling.
The enormous structure plummeted directly toward Garfield and Amelia. Garfield looked up just in time.
Hearing the deafening crash of shifting crystal, he glanced toward Tristan for only a brief moment before releasing the stone construct imprisoning him.
Instantly, he slammed both hands into the floor.
A dome of stone erupted around himself and Amelia, shielding them just as the chandelier crashed down upon them in a deafening explosion of crystal and steel.
Freed from the stone prison, Tristan dropped toward the floor. Claire reached him before he hit the ground, catching him effortlessly.
"Thank you for not getting involved," Tristan said.
Claire offered him a small smile.
"I knew you didn't want me to interfere," she replied calmly. "It wasn't my place."
Tristan's eyes lingered on the stone dome protecting Garfield and Amelia. Every instinct urged him to help them. But he knew intervening now would only ignite another battle between allies. With a quiet sigh, he shifted his attention toward Ripper, who had already begun his escape.
Without another word, Tristan and Claire sprinted after him, their boots plunging into the thick blanket of snow coating the streets.
Ripper darted effortlessly through crowds of panicked civilians. Tristan and Claire forced their way after him.
Then something changed. People began collapsing one after another. Their bodies convulsed violently as they struck the snow-covered ground. Their skin gradually turned deathly pale. Their eyes slowly adopted a terrifying crimson glow. For several agonizing seconds, they remained perfectly motionless.
Then...
They stood.
Slowly.
Unnaturally.
Their movements resembled corpses being dragged upright by invisible strings.
There were nearly twenty of them.
Five rose behind Tristan and Claire.
Fifteen more staggered to their feet ahead of them, completely sealing off the street.
The surrounding civilians erupted into terrified screams as they watched friends, family members, and loved ones transform into grotesque puppets for Ripper's amusement.
Claire stepped forward, tightening her grip around her wooden staff.
"I'll handle them," she said firmly. "Go after him."
Tristan gave a single nod.
Stretching one hand toward the sky, he summoned an invisible elongated arm that latched onto the roof of a nearby building.
With one powerful pull, he launched himself upward, landing atop the rooftop.
He glanced back one final time.
Below him, Claire stood alone, calmly raising her wooden staff against the growing horde.
A faint smile crossed Tristan's face.
Then he turned away and resumed the pursuit.
He leaped effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop before finally dropping into a narrow alleyway below.
The freezing air burned his lungs. His stamina had begun to wane. He bent forward, resting both hands on his knees as he fought to steady his breathing. That was when he noticed it. A torn piece of fabric. It fluttered gently in the wind, snagged upon a faded green iron fence.
"It could be his..." Tristan whispered to himself. "But it could just as easily belong to someone else."
He exhaled slowly.
Beyond the fence stood an abandoned house.
Its lawn had long since been consumed by overgrown grass.
The paint peeling from both the fence and the walls revealed years of neglect.
Every window had been boarded shut, leaving the house looking less like a home and more like a forgotten grave.
Tristan slowly pushed open the rusted gate.
Its old hinges groaned into the silent winter air.
Without another word, he stepped onto the abandoned property's grounds.