The repairman glanced down at the blade in his hand for a brief moment, his expression unreadable. With a soft grunt, he dropped the sword onto the deck with a metallic thud, the sound echoing through the air. Without a second glance at the retreating cultists, he turned and walked back toward the area of the ship he had been working on.
The hammer was already in his hand again, and the rhythmic sound of it striking the wood filled the air once more. The chaos from moments ago seemed to fade into the background as he focused once again on the task at hand, the sharp, consistent tap of metal on wood the only sound left.
The ship needed repair. That was all that mattered now.
All four of them exchanged glances before looking down at the repairman, who was already working again. They then turned and went back into the control room.
"Well... I think it's safe to assume he's not a normal repairman... working for some free credit on his work," Renzo said, sighing heavily.
"Well... whatever he is, he did save us from a group of cultists... so let's at least give him that credit. We use him and once the repairs are done, we kick him off and leave immediately," the commander said, looking at everyone.
Everyone nodded in agreement as they looked out through the cracked wood, seeing the repairman at work again.
As night fell, the moon bathed the world in silver light. The repairs were nearly finished. Silva had left the ship to go for a walk by herself, hoping it would calm her nerves about the repairman.
"Is this really the one we're supposed to be watching?" a man asked quietly. He was crouched on a cliffside above, cloaked head to toe in black. Another figure stood beside him, dressed identically.
"Those were the orders. Stop complaining and follow them," the second man replied, his tone curt.
The first man sighed and cracked his neck.
Down below, Silva walked along a dirt road, hands laced behind her head. The two figures shadowed her silently, moving through the treeline, completely unnoticed.
Back on the ship, the repairman continued his work well into the night. He paused as he overheard Zay and Renzo speaking nearby.
"So that's really the plan?" Zay asked, side-eyeing his brother with a sigh.
"That's the plan," Renzo nodded, chuckling. "We're going to take this damn ship and kill them both."
Zay smirked and nodded. "When?"
"Tonight."
The repairman smiled faintly as he listened in, then quietly slipped away.
Renzo peeked around the corner and noticed he was gone. "You don't seriously think we're right about him, do you?"
"Maybe not... but we all agreed. Better to play it safe."
They left the small wooden room and made their way to the helm. As they entered, they saw Silva and the commander sitting down, while Nova leaned against the wall. All of them turned to look out the crack in the wood and spotted the repairman sprinting into town.
Nova laughed.
"I get back for a few hours and this is the plan you all come up with? Messing with some poor repairman bastard? Funniest thing I've seen in weeks. But also—why the hell are we doing this?"
Zay exhaled and sat down.
"You weren't here for the fight... but when those bastards were clashing, I saw the so-called 'leader' and that 'repairman' wink at each other. I've had a bad feeling ever since."
Everyone nodded, trusting Zay's word—even if the commander held doubts. Without another word, he started the ship, and it drifted away from the docks, returning to the sea.
On the cliff, the two cloaked figures stared down at Silva, only to watch her vanish into mist.
"Shit," they muttered in unison before leaping down the cliff and disappearing.
The repairman heard the ship's engine roar. He bolted back toward the port, only to see the ship already off in the open sea. He clicked his tongue.
'Damn it all to hell...'. he thought.
He stripped down to only his black leggings, sprinted along the stone path, and dove into the ocean. Aura surged through his body, glowing bright violet as he swam at unnatural speed toward the ship.
"How about no," a voice echoed.
He blinked—and suddenly found himself seated in a dim room, bound by chains. These weren't ordinary restraints. They suppressed aura completely.
A man emerged from the wall. Zeke stepped forward.
"I've waited so long to see one of your kind here," he said with a twisted smile. "I've got to say... you did a fantastic job making them distrust you. If you really want trust, maybe try not have such... great fighting knowledge when playing a 'repairman'." Zeke laughed as a cane formed out of the floor and he grabbed it.
The repairman tried to speak, but chains wrapped around his mouth, muffling him.
Zeke tilted his head, snapped his fingers, and the man vanished from the ocean.
Just as the repairman vanished from the sea, two figures sprinted into the port town from the shadows of the cliffside. Their black coats flared behind them as they ran with unnatural speed, leaping over crates and rooftops until they landed on the edge of the dock—mere seconds too late.
They skidded to a stop, eyes wide as they watched the last ripple in the water vanish.
"...Shit. They got Mika," one of them muttered, clenching his fists.
The other one didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, raising both hands. "We don't have time to chase shadows. Prepare the mark."
The first man grinned. "Hell yeah. Let's make some noise."
They moved in unison. Their hands blurred with practiced movements, each tracing a different pattern into the air. Glowing threads of white energy formed between them, wrapping around their arms and then spiraling into the sky. Their coats, once pitch black, shimmered with a brilliant white sheen as the light from their spell pulsed brighter.
They stood back-to-back, each pointing one hand toward the sky and one toward the ground. The energy spirals collided above them in a crack of thunder, igniting into a brilliant sigil of intricate symbols and rotating rings.
The air trembled. The sigil burned into the clouds, glowing like a second moon.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the two men glanced at each other and spoke in unison:
"Trace complete. Mistwalk."
Their bodies unraveled into ribbons of mist, twisting upward into the night sky, leaving only their footprints on the stone pier and the lingering echo of the sigil high above.
Just as they vanished, Zeke stepped out from an alleyway and scoffed.
"Damn bastards… It's only a matter of time, though," he muttered to himself with a grin.
He walked down the stone pathway of the dock and stepped onto the surface of the water. Turning to face the town, he let out a low, amused laugh.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he extended his hand toward the town and snapped his fingers. A loud snap echoed and in an instant, the town disappeared—replaced by trees and grass, as if it had never existed at all.
Did the town… even exist to begin with?
Zeke turned to face the Molten Ridge, sailing into the distance. A top hat materialized from the air above him, which he caught and tipped with a bow.
"Well, that's all for this show," he whispered, then stepped forward into the ocean.
And just like that, he vanished—without a trace.
Below the deck of the vessel, in the dim belly of the ship, the walls creaked with every sway of the waves. Lantern light flickered, casting dancing shadows over crates and old wood. Zay leaned against a barrel, arms crossed, eyes heavy with thought. Renzo sat nearby on an overturned crate, rubbing his temples.
"Zay… how the hell do we get out of here?" Renzo asked, exasperated. "It's been I don't even know how long. We got the ship to an island, made it off the island, betrayed a damn repairman—though he was probably going to kill us anyway. But seriously, what the hell are we supposed to do?"
Zay sighed, glancing over at him."Honestly? I've got no damn clue. We've done a lot of shit—no sacred relics, no signs, nothing. I'm lost as hell on this one."
The two of them collapsed onto the floor of the vessel, lying flat on their backs with synchronized groans of frustration.
"Do you even think any of them are Arbiters?" Renzo asked, staring up at the wood-planked ceiling.
"Not a damn chance. I think they're just figments—puppets made by the Sequence for the hell of it."
Silence settled in as the ship rocked gently against the waves, the creaking of the wood the only sound for a while—until Zay suddenly sat up, eyes wide.
"WAIT!" he shouted, startling Renzo. "Arbiter: Sequence Task."
He spoke the command clearly, remembering the feature he hadn't used in so long—buried under countless resets and forgotten strategies.
A glowing prompt materialized in the air before them:
[Sequence Task]
Capture the second-in-command of Molten Ridge and expose their true identity by any means necessary.
Renzo looked over at Zay, a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face.
"Well... I'll be damned," Zay muttered, standing up.
"Let's get this over with and leave this shitty Sequence behind," Renzo added as he rose to his feet.
They grabbed their katanas, the glint of steel matching the gleam of renewed purpose in their eyes. Both wore matching grins—grins of annoyance, of spite, and the kind of focus that only came from being pushed past their limits.
It was time to finish what this damned Sequence started.