Night wrapped itself around Toki like a heavy, suffocating shroud.
The streets of the Upper District, normally bustling with nobles, merchants, and their guards, were now so quiet they resembled a cemetery abandoned even by ghosts. The only sounds that dared disturb the silence were the distant mewling of stray cats and the occasional bark of a restless dog. Everything else—the wind, the lamps, the snow drifting along the cracked stones—held its breath as he passed.
Toki walked with his hands loosely resting near the hilts of his blade, each step cautious yet steady. His senses were stretched thin, pulled taut like strings on the verge of snapping.
Last time I walked this path… my head hit the ground faster than I could blink.
The memory flashed like lightning—blood pooling, vision fading, the moment life slipped through his fingers. The world had turned upside down in a blink, and if not for forces far beyond his understanding… he would still be dead.
His footsteps slowed.
A familiar scent drifted toward him, faint at first, then stronger—growing heavier. Sharp. Metallic.
Copper.
The undeniable scent of blood.
Not fresh blood from a cut.
Not the stale iron of dried stains.
This one was cold, deep, and soaked with killing intent.
A smell you only ever encountered in places where life had been harvested.
Toki drew a slow breath, letting it fill his lungs, anchoring his nerves. The air burned in his chest, like inhaling frost. He stopped in the middle of the empty street.
"…You can show yourself," he said at last, his voice low, steady, yet carrying an undercurrent of steel. He didn't shout, didn't demand—he declared. "I know your beasts are waiting to tear my flesh apart."
His words echoed faintly between the deserted houses.
Another breath.
"Not every day I stumble upon another Star Collector," he continued. "Since you came here for a reason, I'll give you a chance. Tell me why you're here. Perhaps we can resolve this without a fight."
A strange calm spread in him as he said this—like stepping into cold water. Rationality tightening around his fear.
He opened his stance.
Shoulders loose.
Center of gravity lowered.
"I've already presented myself before you," Toki said. "Don't you think it's time you introduced yourself, too?"
No answer.
Just the whisper of the night.
Toki closed his eyes, focusing. A spark ignited deep within his pupils, and he activated his Spiritual Sight.
At first, he saw nothing—no outline, no glow, not even a disruption . But something was there. Watching him. Studying him. Assessing him with almost surgical patience.
A bead of sweat slid down his spine.
He's close. Very close. But how is he hiding so well?
Toki exhaled and let the darkness in his veins stir. A thick, heavy aura began to seep from him—inky-black fog that coiled around his body like smoke rising from burnt oil.
Soon the fog spread outward.
Ten meters.
Twenty.
Fifty.
A hundred.
Two hundred meters of pure shadow mist swallowing the street.
Within the cloud, Toki could feel every disturbance, every tremble of air, every shift like it was part of his own skin.
And then—
Something touched his fog.
A ripple.
Small, almost hesitant.
Then another.
And another.
"…One…" Toki whispered. His eyes narrowed as he mentally traced the tremors.
"…No… two… no—three…"
The points multiplied rapidly.
"…Eight."
His heartbeat quickened.
Eight sources.
Moving fast.
Circling him.
Not good. Too many. Too fast. They're not random beasts… these things are trained. Conditioned for silent killing.
He tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword.
The fog thickened instinctively around him.
But he still couldn't see them.
Only feel.
And the feeling was getting closer.
Damn it… they're almost on me.
Then—
Something broke through the fog.
A blur.
A slash of movement sharper than lightning.
Toki's instincts screamed.
He jumped back—just as a powerful force tore through the spot where he had been standing. The stone cracked, a deep trench carved into the ground as if something massive had swiped a blade—or a claw—across it.
Before he could regain footing, a pain exploded in his right thigh.
"Ghh—!"
Fangs.
Long.
Cold.
Piercing through muscle.
Another bite clamped onto his calf.
Then another at his ribs.
Invisible jaws tearing into him.
Toki roared and slashed downward in a wide arc. His blade screeched as it collided with something incredibly dense—like striking a slab of iron.
His sword was thrown back.
But the bites didn't stop.
"Damn it—!"
Blood soaked his clothes. Warm. Sticky. Thick. His leg trembled under him.
I can't hit them… but they can hit me. I can't see them. I can't sense them clearly. What the hell are these things—?!
He gritted his teeth and tore himself free, ignoring the chunks of flesh ripped off as he jumped.
Three more bites snapped at him midair.
Claws dragged across his boots.
Something scraped his back.
He landed hard and stumbled.
The fog shuddered with foreign movement—something darting left, right, behind him.
"Not bad," a voice suddenly echoed from below him.
A low, smooth voice with a strange playful timbre—like someone whispering secrets to a friend at midnight.
"But you'll need more than cheap tricks to make me show myself," the unseen stranger said. "I'm a… shy type."
Toki froze.
Below? No—inside the fog? Behind the ground? What kind of perception trick is this?
The voice continued:
"You're doing well, though. Better than expected. Most would have collapsed already."
Toki drew a sharp breath, scanning every inch of the fog.
No silhouette.
No mana signature.
Nothing.
Only pain spreading from his wounds.
I'm in a terrible position… I can't pinpoint his attacks… I can't anticipate his movements. Eight beasts I can't see? This isn't a fight. This is slaughter.
He steadied himself.
Think. THINK, Toki. You survived worse. You've fought puppets animated by grief. You've been swallowed by monsters. This… isn't new. You just need one opening.
But the fog trembled again.
A presence slipped through it like a knife through cloth.
Toki's blood ran cold.
No. No time. He's coming again.
"Show me more," the voice whispered. "Surprise me, Brother."
His heart pounded like a drum.
Tch—where? Where?!
He clutched his blade.
But then a second presence broke through the mist. And a third. And a fourth.
Too many.
Far too many.
They converged from all sides at once.
"Damn it—!"
Toki raised his weapon—
A crushing force slammed into him.
His body lifted off the ground as something sharp tore into his side. Pain swallowed his vision in white.
He heard the ripping.
He felt the teeth.
He felt the blood leaving him in bursts.
He gasped.
And then—
claws tore across his hip.
Then his shoulder.
Then his forearm.
His fingers slipped on his sword hilt.
No… no, no, no—!
Blood dripped into his eyes.
His breathing became ragged.
The fog wasn't helping. His sight wasn't helping. His instincts weren't fast enough to track the invisible strikes.
The beasts moved like phantoms—unseen, unheard, yet mercilessly precise.
I'm going to die…
He stumbled backward, vision blurring.
The voice laughed softly.
"Come now," it murmured. "Don't tell me this is all you can do. I came all this way hoping for a challenge."
The beasts closed in.
His legs shook. The pain was too great. Blood loss was accelerating. His lungs burned.
Damn it…
I don't have time to counter…
I can't keep up…
I—
Something surged through the fog.
A killing intent so sharp it sliced the air around him.
Toki's heart dropped into his stomach.
"Oh no…" he whispered.
I'm going to die again.
Just like before.
The next strike was already descending.
Then—
A violent pull.
A hand, strong and impossibly fast, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him sideways, out of the circle of gnashing jaws. His feet scraped across broken stone. A burst of air exploded behind him as something slammed into the place where he'd stood.
The world snapped back into focus.
Toki blinked, disoriented, breath ragged. His vision swam with red and black shapes. He clawed at consciousness, fingers flexing around the hilt of his sword.
A voice cut through the chaos.
"What in the hells are you doing out here at this hour? Were you trying to die?"
Toki twisted in the stranger's grip, expecting another monster, claws, fangs—anything.
Instead, his gaze found a dark robe.
A woman—a silhouette framed by moonlight—held him by the waist as if he weighed nothing. Her cloak fluttered around her like living smoke, and beneath its hood two crimson eyes stared at him, sharp and unblinking. Even at this distance, he could see strands of black hair dancing against her cheek, pale skin glinting like porcelain under the moon.
Toki tensed.
"Who are you?"
His voice was hoarse, weak. Pain shot up his leg, reminding him that strips of flesh had been torn away.
The woman didn't answer. She simply hissed under her breath:
"It doesn't matter right now. We need to move."
She shifted her stance and raised her free hand.
A sudden burst of orange light—then flames roared from her palm, spiraling backward toward the rolling fog behind them. The fire wasn't normal; it bent strangely, as if pushed by an unseen force. It hit something in the mist with a hungry hiss.
The beasts shrieked then swarmed forward again. Toki could hear claws scraping against stone, ragged breaths, slithering snarls.
The woman clicked her tongue.
"Persistent little pests…"
With her other hand she pulled a small vial from her belt—a glass sphere filled with black liquid. She threw it behind them without hesitation. The vial shattered, and the liquid splattered in a perfect arc across the ground.
The mist recoiled.
The invisible beasts hit the liquid and immediately screeched, stumbling, trapped in some sort of sticky, dark resin. Toki felt the vibrations through the ground—their struggling, their frantic rage.
The woman didn't slow down. She kept pulling him along, practically dragging him across the ruined street.
Toki forced his head up.
The fog—still lingered like a dark ocean behind them. Something moved inside it.
Something watching.
He felt it.
A presence.
A gaze like a blade pressed against his spine.
His instincts screamed: He followed us.
"No—no, wait!" Toki suddenly twisted in her arms.
In that split second, he felt it—the ripple, the displacement of air.
The stalker had left the fog again.
Without thinking, Toki grabbed the woman by the waist, lifted her against his shoulder, and pushed off the ground with everything he had left. His muscles screamed, bones rattling, but he forced his blod through his legs, compressing it until—
BOOM.
A sonic blast tore through the street. Shattered rocks flew in every direction. The shockwave shoved the approaching figure backward—just enough to buy a second.
Just enough to hear that voice again…
A voice that slithered through the night.
"Hah… thank you for the entertainment. I'll be waiting… for our next evening date."
Toki's blood ran cold.
The woman stiffened in his arms.
But he didn't stop running—not until the mist was far behind and the silhouette of the Silas manor rose before them.
Only then did he slow, lowering her carefully to her feet. His legs buckled, but he forced himself upright.
The woman looked him over—her crimson eyes glowing faintly—as if reassessing him after what he'd just done.
She scoffed.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to toss a lady around like that?"
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Though I'll admit… you're fast."
Toki exhaled, the tension draining from his shoulders.
Now that they stood under a lantern's glow, he could see her more clearly. Her features remained mostly hidden behind the robe, but her posture was elegant, controlled. Her hands—now pulling small jars and bandages from a pouch—moved with practiced precision.
She knelt beside him without asking.
Toki blinked as she dipped her fingers into a pungent black salve and pressed it gently onto his wounded thigh.
Pain shot through him like lightning.
He hissed.
"Tch—! You could warn me…"
"If you had time for warnings," she muttered, "you wouldn't be in this condition."
Despite her tone, her touch was surprisingly delicate. She wrapped the bandage tightly around his leg.
Toki stared at her hands for a moment.
There was something familiar about this woman—not her face, not her voice, but the feeling she gave off. A strange mixture of distance and… sadness? Or was it caution?
He swallowed.
"Who are you?" he asked again, softer this time.
She tied the last knot in the bandage.
Then she stood.
"That doesn't matter," she said, brushing dust off her robe.
"What matters is that you stay alive. And that you stay off the streets at night."
Her tone had shifted—still sharp, but tinged with a sliver of worry.
A stranger shouldn't care.
Yet she did.
He tried to sit straighter.
"I can repay the favor. Just tell me your name."
A pause.
The wind blew a strand of black hair across her cheek. She didn't push it back.
Her red eyes softened—just a fraction.
"We'll see each other again."
And before Toki could say another word—before he could even reach out—her body dissolved into a swirling column of dust. The particles shimmered, then scattered into the night wind, leaving nothing but silence.
Toki stared at the empty space she'd occupied.
A single thought crossed his mind:
Of course she left without telling me her name.
My luck with women is flawless.
He sighed and forced himself upright. Every step toward the manor felt like dragging weights. He carefully opened the door, wincing when it creaked. Inside, the hallways were silent. The Silas household slept deeply.
Toki moved like a shadow, slipping through the corridor and into his assigned room.
He collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving.
Pain pulsed in dull, heavy beats through his leg, reminding him of every bite, every second of helplessness. The memory of the stalker's voice replayed in his skull like a taunt.
He's stronger than I imagined.
Stronger than anything I've fought since…
His jaw clenched.
He hated it.
How weak he had been.
How blind.
How easily he could have died.
His fingers gripped the sheets until his knuckles whitened.
Smith…
He exhaled slowly.
You better bring help. Real help.
A shiver crawled up his spine.
He could still feel that gaze chasing him—hungry, curious, playful in the most terrifying way.
And behind that memory, another image intruded:
The woman.
Her red eyes.
Her calm hands.
Her voice that cut like flint but softened at the edges.
Her refusal to speak her name.
Who was she?
How could she appear and vanish like that?
And why…
Why did she risk her life for him?
Something about her reminded him of Utsuki. She wasn't as gentle as her, but he could feel her desire to help.
Questions swirled in his head, blending with exhaustion.
His eyelids grew heavy.
His last conscious thought slipped through his mind like a whisper:
I hope she's safe.
Sleep swallowed him whole.
Outside, the night continued—quiet, cold, and filled with watching eyes.