The masked man kicked off the crumbling wall, launching himself into the air. With a jagged flick of his wrists, he sent a spray of poison arching toward Felix like a released bowstring.
Felix twisted his body mid-air, the liquid narrowly missing his chest. It struck the floor behind him with a harsh hiss, the metal bubbling and melting like wax.
A cold sweat traced a path down the back of his neck. Too fast...
He reached for the black gas lamp hanging from his belt. As he hoisted it high, a string of guttural, ancient words slipped from his lips—a language forgotten by the world, known only to those who had walked through the abyss.
"Awaken… those who dwell within the calamity."
At his command, the black gas lamp in Felix's hand erupted into ethereal blue-violet flames. As the fire spiraled upward, a thick shroud of darkness bled into the air, unfurling around him like a heavy curtain of mist. Within that gloom, eyes blink open, one by one, as if rousing from an eon of slumber.
The largest eye manifested directly behind Felix's head. Its golden iris shifted with a slow, deliberate, predatory scan of the wreckage.
The masked man's brow furrowed; a visceral, sticky sensation crawled over his skin under the weight of that many-eyed gaze.
The train lurched into a violent, screeching turn. Both combatants momentarily lost their footing, but Felix twisted the momentum to his advantage. This was the essence of his stigma—Seeker.
Through this sight, the eyes dreaming in the dark could perceive the hidden: the fractures in an enemy's mana, the weak points in their armor, the jagged seals they tried so desperately to conceal.
It was the gaze of Absolute Truth, a power that stripped away deception to reveal the raw intent behind every move.
But I can't let this drag on, Felix thought. The longer I hold this form, the faster I lose my edge.
"Scurrying around like a rat," the masked man growled, his voice a distorted, gravelly rasp. Felix offered no reaction to the bait.
"Just die," Felix said, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature.
The coldness of the command ignited a flare of rage in the assassin's eyes. "Do not expect a painless end from me!"
The masked man snatched three obsidian beads from his belt. They hovered above his palm, suspended by a dark tether of energy.
Thick, foul-smelling smoke billowed from the spheres as three symbols burned themselves into the back of his hand.
From the smog, three spectral monstrosities emerged. Their silhouettes resembled wolves, yet their heads had flattened into unnatural, distorted planes.
Their jaws unhinged, revealing rows of jagged teeth and long, prehensile tongues lined with razor-sharp protrusions.
"Kill him!"
The beasts lunged. In a seamless motion, the sword in Felix's right hand shifted, the steel segmenting into a lethal, whiplike chain.
As the first creature leapt to tear into his throat, Felix's left blade carved through its midsection. The beast dissolved into harmless smoke on impact.
The masked man let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You cannot slay my shadows with a common blade!"
Felix's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smirk. He swung the chain, the golden eyes floating in the mist, focusing intently on the creature's core.
In Felix's vision, a thick, molten gold seemed to pour over the beast, marking its true essence.
The moment the smoke solidified into a tangible, physical form, the masked man's eyes trembled behind his veil. A strangled whisper escaped his lips.
"... Impossible."
Felix snapped the chain taut and thrust. This time, the blade didn't pass through smoke—it buried itself in meat and bone.
A shrill, soul-piercing shriek tore through the carriage, momentarily overpowering the roar of the speeding train.
The creature collapsed, its weight hitting the floor with a heavy, final thud.
One of the obsidian spheres shattered into dust. On the masked man's hand, one of the three marks flickered and hissed into nothingness. The masked man groaned, a mixture of agony and pure fury.
"You... who the hell are you?"
Felix tilted his head slightly, his expression a mask of cold indifference.
"Someone," he replied, "who is simply too lucky to die."
At that moment, Damien's eyes snapped open, blinking through a fog of confusion.
The blast had sent a piece of debris into his skull, knocking him into a brief, dark void. Groaning, he reached up to his throbbing temple; when his fingers came away wet and crimson, the sight of his own blood acted like a jolt of adrenaline. His sea-blue eyes widened as the frigid mountain air whipped against his face.
Before him lay the mangled hull of the train, and beyond the wreckage, a violent symphony of clashing steel.
Felix and the masked assailant engaged in a lethal dance. Damien watched in stunned silence as Felix carved through one of the spectral monsters, only for the creature to dissipate into harmless mist.
What... what am I looking at?
His gaze trembled. He had seen many things, but nothing like this. Then, his breath hitched as he saw Felix ensnare a second beast with his chain, pinning its essence before driving his blade home—this time, the kill was final.
"Why did the first one vanish while the second one died?" Damien muttered, both baffled and intrigued.
From his position, he couldn't see the spectral golden eyes drifting in the dark mist around Felix, nor the way they stripped the creatures of their shadows.
Despite the shock, Damien's noble instincts took over. He surged to his feet, drawing his massive greatsword in one fluid motion.
As he stepped into the fray, a radiant sun symbol manifested behind his head. Arrows of pure light erupted from the sigil, leaving shimmering afterimages that scorched the air. In the next heartbeat,
Damien vanished—reappearing instantly behind the masked man.
Grip tightening on the hilt, he swung the heavy blade in a decapitating arc toward the assassin's neck. But the masked man was a shadow in his own right. With a flick of his will, the third creature threw itself in front of the steel, sacrificing its form to block the strike.
"A blade alone won't cut it!" Felix roared.