Ethan pushed through the crowd, eyes darting to the spot where Avon and Rheia had been sitting. Empty. He scanned the rows, the fire, the stalls. Nothing.
Then—movement at the village's edge. Figures shoving through the crowd. Avon. Rheia. Forced toward the entrance.
Shit.
Without a second thought, Ethan turned and bolted down the side path, circling fast, angling to cut them off.
The drums thundered after him.
Takataka… Takataka… Takataka…
Avon's eyes met Ethan's across the circle.
A single nod.
Avon pointed toward Rheia
They moved as one.
Avon ducked low, his hand snapping to the scabbard. Steel hissed free. In the same motion, he slashed upward.
Slash!
The first man's scream split the circle as his palm tore open—severed clean. Fingers spasmed, the hand thudding to the dirt, fingers still clenched around the gun.
Blood sprayed.
Avon spun with the momentum, blade carving across the second man's thigh.
Shing!
The leg buckled. He toppled, trembling, crashing down in a heap.
Whoooosh!
On the same momentum, Ethan surged like a bullet through the crowd with a burst of wind at his back. His arm hooked around Rheia, dragging her free as his boot smashed into her captor's chest.
The man flew, body crashing through the trees, snapping branches as he fell.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The guns barked, muzzle flashes tearing through the dark.
Ethan drove his sword's tip into the ground.
Whoooosh!
Wind surged upward, wrapping into a wall of pressure. The bullets slammed into it—tup! tup! tup!—then spun harmlessly aside, falling useless to the dirt.
Avon cut the cord loose.
Rheia drew her hands in tight against her chest, holding them close as if to protect the little freedom she'd just regained.
The crowd broke, screams scattering into the night as they fled the gunfire. But in the circle's heart, the beat never faltered.
**The masked figure kept dancing, the wolf's face flashing in the firelight—unbroken, not even pausing for a breath.
The man with the severed hand shrieked, but his other arm still jerked the trigger, spraying wild shots into the dark.
The one with the slashed thigh trembled on the ground, yet his fingers clenched around the gun, firing in ragged bursts.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Their pain didn't stop the bullets—it only made them wilder. Around them, the peoples ran for their lives, and scattered and the stalls emptied.
"Avon—on the reload," Ethan whispered through clenched teeth, holding the barrier steady.
The gunfire stuttered, then fell silent. Empty.
Avon moved.
In a single blur of steel, his blade flashed—
Shing!
One stroke ended the screaming, the twitching, the gunfire. Both men collapsed in the dirt, motionless.
The tribesmen stared at them—eyes wide, caught between fear and curiosity.
"Don't stay here—let's go," Ethan gasped, lowering his sword.
They turned toward the entrance. But before they could reach it, another figure stepped into view—a man in a white suit, standing in their path a short distance ahead. He smiled.
Ethan's boots slammed the earth—
Whoooosh!
Wind burst at his back as he shot forward like a bullet.
Clang!
Steel met steel, their swords locking in a brutal cross. Sparks scattered as they exchanged a flurry of swings—each strike heavier than the last.
With a surge of force, Ethan was driven back, boots skidding across the dirt.
"Ha… ha… I thought you were just kids," the man in the white suit laughed, his voice carrying a mocking edge.
"What do you want?" Ethan shot back, sword raised, keeping Avon and Rheia guarded behind him.
"I came for her," the man said, his smile widening. "But it seems I'll be taking all of you."
His grip clenched tighter around the sword's hilt.
Crrr… Crrrk…
Light bled across the steel, crackling as it crawled along the blade—until it glowed like lightning itself had been trapped inside the edge.
Lightning…
Avon's eyes narrowed. He pulled Rheia behind him, his stance shifted—blade angled low, ready.
"Ethan—cover!" Avon barked. Together, they rushed toward him.
The man in the white suit swung his blade.
Crraack!
A lightning arc ripped forward, hissing through the air.
Ethan braced, slamming his sword into the ground—wind surged upward, a barrier roaring into place.
Boom!
The strike smashed against it—then tore through.
The blade of lightning whipped across his chest. Sparks burst as the shock flung him back hard, his body convulsing under the current.
"Ethan!!" Avon's voice cracked, his step faltering for a moment.
The man in the white suit only smiled.
"Now…" he said, lifting his glowing blade, "…it's your turn." He pointed at Avon.
The crowd was swept away, vanishing into the dark.
But the chant of the drums never faltered.
Takataka… Takataka…
Clang!
Avon clashed with him. Steel crashed against steel, sparks bursting as the weight of Lucian's strike rattled through his arms.
"Rheia! How is he?!" Avon roared, teeth clenched as their blades locked.
She was already at Ethan's side, dragging at his arm.
"Aaah—!" Ethan's growl tore out. "I'm fine!"
But he wasn't. A deep slash cut across his chest, shoulder to waist, blood flooding fast, soaking his shirt in red.
The man shoved forward, pressing Avon back with raw force. Avon staggered, boots grinding against the soil as he fought to hold his ground.
"You don't even have RHI, little kid?" he sneered.
Avon didn't answer. His gaze locked on him—silent, unflinching, like a predator about to strike. Yet his breaths came ragged, his jaw trembling as he held the blade.
"Then it's not fun." The man glanced around. His men were already sprawled across the ground.
He lowered his head with a sigh of disappointment.
"Let me give you a favor… I won't use RHI." The glare along his sword dimmed, the light fading from its edge.
"Avon—he's bleeding!" Rheia screamed from the side.
"Can you walk him to the car?" Avon shouted back, never taking his eyes off the fight.
"Yeah…" She tried to move toward the entrance—
But a lightning arc ripped down in front of her, scorching the earth at her feet.
"Hey, that's foul play." The man in the suit turned his blade on them, it again lightened with RHI.
"I'm gonna kill you, white shit…" Avon rasped.
"Please — call me Lucian." The man replied politely, bowing his head like an actor taking a stage bow.
Clang!
Steel shrieked as their blades met, sparks spitting into the night. The air itself trembled with each strike as Avon drove forward, every blow a defiance, every clash echoing through the dark.
He forced Avon back with every clash, slipping away at the last instant, turning defense into mockery.
His movements were taunts in themselves—fluid, effortless. He laughed with each step, each swing, as if the duel were nothing more than a game.
Avon's teeth clenched. He snapped forward, blade whipping in a sudden heavy arc.
Shing!
Lucian flinched back, but the strike bit into his stomach, tearing a line through the white suit. A moment later, the fabric darkened—red blooming across it.
He touched the blood with his finger. His jaw tightened. The smile was gone.
With a sudden snarl, Lucian surged forward—his wrist snapping the blade into motion as he rushed Avon in a blur.
Each strike landed heavier than the last, the force piling on with every clash.
Avon's arms shook, his legs buckled—he stumbled back until his body slammed against a tree.
Clang!
Lucian leapt, bringing his blade down in a crushing strike aimed at Avon's chest. The impact rattled through his arms, forcing his body lower, the steel screaming under the weight.
Harder. And harder.
The only thing left between Lucian's blade and Avon's chest was his sword. The gap shrank with every push, steel grinding as Lucian forced it down inch by inch.
The drums of the ritual pounded in his skull, each beat merging with his heartbeat—racing on the edge between life and death.
"You stained my suit, you little creature…" Lucian gasped through a quivering jaw.
"Let's forget what I said."
The blade in his hand began to glow again—slowly, ominously—light crawling back along the steel.
Crrr…rrkk…
Avon heard it—his blade shrieking under the strain, lightning crawling along the edge. Lucian tilted his blade, easing it toward Avon's left shoulder.
The instant steel touched flesh, the RHI flared—then snapped off. Shock ripped through Avon. His body jolted, shuddering under the surge of current.
Avon's sword shrieked under the strain. Sparks burst inches from his face. The moment lightning met steel, pain ripped through him.
"Arrhh—!" Avon's scream tore from his throat, blood spilling from the gash cut across his chest.
"I want to feel your flesh, Hawkbane…" Lucian hissed, his words dripping against Avon's ear.
"Leave him, you monster!"
A fragile blow struck Lucian's back—so light it didn't even make him flinch. It continued, nothing more than a tap… like a frightened cat pawing at a giant.
She was sobbing like a child.
Lucian smirked. He pressed Avon harder, blood spilling faster as the wound tore wider across his chest. With his free hand, Lucian seized Rheia's throat. His grip tightened—choking her hard.
Her eyes snapped up toward Avon, wide and pleading, her breath stolen. For a moment it seemed her gaze would fade completely—then, at the last instant, Lucian tossed her aside.
Rheia collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping harder and harder, clutching at her throat.
Avon could only stare.
What am I doing? Why did I come here?
Ethan… if you die because of me, how can I just lie here and die quietly?
And she…
Takataka… Takataka…
The drums hammered harder, each beat slamming through his skull—fusing with his heartbeat until they were one.
Avon reeled, vision blurring.
In the circle, a shape stirred—its colors bleeding into shadow.
It's time. It's time. It's time.
The voice rumbled from the dark. The same shape from his dreams.
Eyes gleamed within the void—wolf's eyes, burning.
Wooooohf. Wooooohf
Wooooooooohf.
The howls rolled through the black. The drums pounded in answer.
What… is happening?
Avon's heartbeat hammered his ribs. Blood roared in his ears.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
The rhythm of wolves and drums became his own pulse.
His hands trembled—fingers curling into claws, his body answering the beat.
The strikes rattled through his bones.
His eyes snapped open—darkened, sinking into shadow.
"AAAAARRHHH!"
With a roar, Avon surged forward, blade driving Lucian back.
The force hurled him across the circle. He smashed through the stalls on the far side—wood splintering, canvas tearing, the whole row collapsing under the impact.
The fire at the center guttered and died.
The drums fell silent.
Avon pushed himself to his feet.
His muscles clenched tight, veins straining. He tilted his head—crack—the sound sharp against the silence.
When his eyes opened, they gleamed dark.
"Are you okay?" he asked Rheia.
"Y-Yeah…" Rheia's breath trembled. She looked at his eyes, it was darkened.
Avon moved to Ethan's side. His eyes were closed. Avon pressed two fingers to his neck. A pulse—faint, slow, but still there.
Then, from the rubble, Lucian staggered back into view. Shallow cuts traced his stomach and thighs, blood seeping through the once-white suit.
"Now it's getting fun…" Lucian laughed, stepping back toward the circle. His smile twisted. "You monster."
His sword flared with RHI, shrieking with fury as light bled across the blade.
Avon's jaw quivered. His grip tightened, breath steadying once—then he burst forward. His boots carved deep prints into the soil.
He moved like a bullet. With a single step, he was on him, closing the gap in a blur.
Clang!!
Avon's strike landed clean. Sparks burst as steel collided—then, with a sharp crack, the edge of Lucian's blade split.
Lucian raised his free arm, lightning coiling along it. He swung for Avon's waist. Avon flinched back just in time, the strike searing past him.
Again he lunged, again he struck—relentless, each blow splitting the blade further, driving Lucian back step by step.
At last, Avon's grip locked tight. He drew every ounce of strength into one final swing.
Shhhrrrack!
Lucian's blade split in half, shards bursting from his hand in a spray of steel. His fingers faltered, and the sword dropped from his hand.
He staggered back on trembling legs, wrist twisted and broken, gasping hard for breath. His eyes flicked toward Ethan—then back to Avon.
And still he laughed, a ragged, mocking sound spilling straight into Avon's face.
Avon gasped like a beast, breath tearing from his chest. His boots sank deep into the soil.
He moved like a bullet. Sparks split steel, the blade cracked, and with one final swing,
Shing!
Avon's sword carved Lucian in half.
He looked down at the blood streaming from his chest, his gaze flickering toward the masked figure in the distance.
His vision blurred, and he dozed off on the ground.
------------------------------------------------------------
The sharp reek of chlorine and antiseptic hung heavy in the air.
White walls glared under sterile light, every surface too clean, too smooth. The faint beep of monitors broke the silence in steady intervals.
Rheia sat in the empty waiting area, shoulders slumped, hands clutched tight in her lap. Her eyes were swollen. Exhaustion weighed on her face, yet her body wouldn't let her rest.
Every sound — a door sliding open, a nurse's footsteps — made her chest tighten as if it might be bad news.
A squeak echoed down the corridor.
Freya, Arya, and Elina hurried toward her, their footsteps sharp against the floor, carrying both urgency and panic.
Rheia lifted her head slowly.
"Where are they? What happened?"
Freya's words rushed out, a tear already trembling at the edge of her eyes.
"They're in the ICU… the doctor didn't say anything yet… I don't know what to—"
Rheia's voice broke. She couldn't hold back anymore.
She turned into Elina's arms, sobs shuddering out of her in broken gasps, hiccups catching between each breath.
"It's okay, dear. He'll be alright," Elina whispered, holding Rheia tighter.
The door opened.
"How is he?" Freya asked at once.
"Are you her for Ethan… or Avon?" the doctor replied carefully.
"We're here for both," Freya said, quickly wiping her tears.
"Alright," the doctor nodded. "Ethan's condition is a little critical. There was severe bleeding, and the wound is large. He's in observation now."
Freya's lips trembled. "And Avon?"
"Please tell me he is okay." Arya's voice broken.
"He's stable," the doctor answered. "He also lost blood, but miraculously his vitals are holding better than expected." His smile was faint but reassuring.
Freya and Arya exhaled together, the breath leaving them as if they'd been holding it the whole time.
But still, the panic lingered.
"Ethan…. is he gonna die?" Arya came forward to the Doctor.
"As I said he is in the observations. Let's hope for the best" Doctor said calm and assuring.
Arya came back towards Freya.
"Mother… when will Aunt Adriana come?" Arya asked.
"I don't know. She's still in the outlands with Ray," Freya answered, shaking her head.
"We have to do something," Arya pressed, her tone trembling on the edge of a breakdown.
"I've already informed the ministry," Freya said softly. "It may take some time before word reaches them. Oh.. poor boy". A tear broke from her eyes. Freya, closed Arya to her shoulder
"Rheia, come here." Freya pulled her into a hug the moment she stepped closer.
"Avon's alright, nothing to worry. But Ethan… he's not in good condition. You did nothing wrong, okay?"
Still, Rheia's tears streamed down, slipping hot and steady no matter how hard she tried to hold them back.
"Elina, did you reach Barren?" Freya asked.
"No," Elina replied softly. "I got a message back from the Ring. They're in the middle of a raid. I'm afraid… they may not even hear about this news for a while."
Elina and Freya kept talking in low voices, their worry spilling into every word.
Arya and Rheia drifted toward the staircase, their steps slow and measured, as if each carried the weight of the night.
"Are you okay?" Arya asked quietly.
Rheia nodded back.
"What happened there? Why were you gone so long?"
"We just went to a festival… then suddenly, someone attacked us," Rheia answered quickly, her words tumbling out before she broke away.
She rushed toward the washroom.
Why did I even say that?
The thought clawed at her.
They both got hurt because of me…
it's my fault….
I'm always the reason…
Why am I like this?
Everywhere I go,
I only bring pain…
only sadness…
Her hands pressed to her mouth, trying to hold the sound back as tears blurred her vision. Her knees weakened, and she slid down the wall, hugging herself as the silence pressed heavy around her.
------------------------------------------------------------
State Mortuary —
The doors swung open with a hollow echo.
A man in a black suit stepped out, his shoes tapping against the wet concrete.
Behind him, a few orderlies followed, wheeling out four stretchers. Each one was draped in white, the sheets still damp where the blood hadn't fully dried.
One by one, they loaded the bodies into the truck. The metallic clang of the latch closing was the only sound left.
The man lit a cigarette, letting the smoke curl around his face before pulling out his phone.
"It's confirmed," he said quietly. "He's dead."
Silence. The voice on the other end crackled faintly.
"Change of plans, then. Focus on him. We need that on our side this time."
His eyes flicked toward the truck as the engine rumbled to life.
"Understood," he muttered. "If he resists?"
Another pause.
"Then leave him no choice."
The man hung up, crushed the cigarette beneath his heel, and slipped into the waiting car.