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Chapter 2 - scarred path: 2-among shadows

Out of the shadows, the figure emerged—a silent storm in the heart of the chaotic marketplace.

His dark garments swallowed the light around him; his presence could be felt more than seen. Behind a half-mask, his eyes gleamed with a dull, profound blue.

Iskra and Servet locked eyes.

This newcomer was neither of fire nor of water. His presence heralded a threat far older—and far stranger.

Servet pursed his lips and muttered, "This guy's a little too cold, don't you think?"

Iskra nodded. "He's not fire or water. This… this is something much darker."

The figure stepped forward. He glanced around the market, then raised his voice:

"Neither your fire nor your water will save this place. The one to end this war… is darkness itself."

Servet narrowed his eyes, his hands tightening into light fists.

"Darkness? My ass. This is my turf."

The man smiled—not in friendship, but in warning.

"I am an ancient shadow sorcerer. My name is Azrak. And I have come with a message."

Iskra stepped forward, flames coiling at her fingertips.

"A message? What kind of message?"

"Step aside, flame-wielder. Or, if it interests you… consider joining us."

Servet tilted his head, a blank confusion in his gaze—he seemed to not even understand the sentence structure.

Iskra's brows furrowed. "No. Never."

Azrak nodded slightly, a short silence falling.

"What a shame."

There was a flash—a blast.

The air became thick with the scent of burning wood and boiling water, nearly unbreathable. Time folded inward for a few seconds. Then… silence.

And then… Azrak again.

He emerged from the shadows, a twisted magical ring spinning in his hand, from which surged black water, foaming like a sick river.

Servet watched him closely.

> "This feeling," the outer voice murmured, "cold—deep, clinging darkness."

But from within that roar came a child's scream. No—this wasn't from outside.

It was inside Servet's head.

Beneath his burned skin, the darkness of the basements he once hid in as a child returned.

He couldn't breathe. His pupils trembled.

The flesh beneath his bandages seemed to burn anew.

Iskra shouted:

"Servet! Watch out!"

Shadows shot from the ground like thorns, aiming straight at him.

He jumped back—but too late. His left arm barely escaped.

Though they hadn't touched him, the cold within him deepened.

Azrak didn't speak.

He simply moved.

And the shadows moved with him.

Servet took a shaky breath.

The outer voice sensed:

> "Fear seeped into every cell. But he remembered the old rule: 'If you're scared, don't freeze.'"

"If you're scared... punch."

As Azrak took his stance, Servet scraped his foot against the ground.

Small gravel and dust shot into Azrak's eyes.

In that instant, he closed the distance.

Now, it was as if someone else had taken over.

Left leg — strike to the knee.

Right leg — spinning kick to the ribs.

Left arm — slap to the throat.

And then, he pulled off his shirt and threw it over Azrak's face. Vision: gone.

Azrak, falling, cast one final ring of magic.

From his palm, black water launched forward—

—but Iskra's fire whip evaporated it mid-air.

The shadows growled as they recoiled.

Azrak, mask fallen, disappeared—

—but left a warning behind:

> "You're running late… the shadows have begun to consume."

---

A heavy silence fell over the market.

Iskra took a few deep breaths before turning to Servet.

"You… okay?"

Servet looked down. His voice was calm:

"Yeah. I keep forgetting to punch first and ask later."

Iskra gave a small smile.

After a moment, Servet squinted.

"So why are those guys after you?"

Iskra looked at the spark on her shoulder. Her expression turned serious.

"I come from the fire nation—Infernus. The water nation, Kjo, declared war on us. A century-long peace… shattered. The reason? An ancient fire stone. It was found in our lands. But they cried about 'honor', 'ancestors', 'water rights'…"

Servet sighed.

"Sounds like a blast."

Iskra raised her brows. "Hey, this is serious!"

"I came here to deliver a diplomatic message to the Grand Khan. To ask for help. To preserve peace. But ones like Azrak… they don't want peace.

They serve chaos. Hidden factions in shadow. We don't even know who they really are."

Servet wiped his hands on his pants and stood up.

"Well then. Fire stones, water rights, shadows… whatever.

Nobody gets to show off in my district."

Iskra chuckled briefly, then went quiet.

"I guess… i didnt ask yor name mine is iskra ."

servet stand

"Servet"

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