The first wall of Bruges broke before dawn.
A sound like thunder rolled through the fog, followed by the groan of stone surrendering. Then came the roar — humans, jagged, desperate. They poured through the breach like swarms of ants.
Bandits — aiders of Scarface and behind them the monstrosities, abominations of the Earth itself, the Hygrons. Flesh-towers wrapped in bones and muscles, their eyes the color of madness itself.
The town screamed. kids and adult alike running in all directions, Guards that were meant to protect the civilians fell in the first rush. Horses tore free, dragging chains and the bandits chased them down and chopping them down to bits. Horrible, inhuman these guys were indeed savages. The air turned thick with ash, iron and the taste of blood.
Conrad seeing all this walked towards it, not fast, not slow either just steady.
He loosened his collar a bit and let his boots find the center of the square. Dust gathered around him, circling like it recognized something heavy.
The first raider saw him — Bureau black, gold insignia catching the flame-light — and shouted. The others followed.
He waited until they were close , in that exact proximity enough to smell the blood and rot on their steel. Then he let go.
The earth answered.
His body sank slightly, weight multiplying, bones humming like stone under pressure. The rubbles around his boots cracked outward. Then the air folded against him.
The first man swung. Conrad caught the blade bare-handed; it rang once, then shattered like glass. When his fist landed, the sound was dull, like stone meeting clay. The man's chest caved inward. He dropped without a word.
Two more came. One with an axe, one with a spear. He turned sideways, shoulder dropping, and they hit him together. Metal screamed, hafts splintered. Conrad stepped through the space between them and they were gone — thrown aside, skulls blooming red against the wall.
A woman screamed and rushed towards him with twin knives. He met her halfway; his elbow caught her jaw and sent half her teeth flying. She hit the stones headfirst, leaving a color of dark behind her.
More came — ten, maybe twelve. It didn't matter. The square became a storm of motion and dull impacts. Each strike he made sounded like an explosion on rocks . Flesh tore, bones snapped like twigs, blood misted the air in thin sheets. He ripped one man's arm off cleanly from his shoulders and used it to break another's neck.
When he stopped moving, the ground was painted red. Steam rose from it. Bits of clothing, flesh and bones clung to the cracks between the rubbles like debris after a flood.
The few still standing backed away, pissing themselves in uter disbelief whispering.
"He doesn't bleed. ""He is stone."" Scarface never said someone in this town had one like him that the earth favored too."
Conrad exhaled, slow. The heaviness inside him pulsed, begging release. His veins felt carved from lead. He could hold it longer — but not much.
The wind shifted.
A shadow passed over him, blocking the firelight. Something vast, something heavy was moving between the houses busting through windows — claws scraping, breath hissing.
A Hygron pushed through all the carnage. Its jaws were wide enough to swallow him whole. It lunged.
Conrad didn't move.
The teeth closed around his torso, lifting him as if to swallow him whole — and stopped, no blood. Not even skin. Just the sound of teeth and fangs cracking against something harder.
The beast recoiled, howling, half its fangs shattered. Its breath blew hot and wet across his face. Conrad looked up at it, eyes flat.
"Try biting harder," he said with certainty in his voice
He raised one arm, fist like a hammer, and brought it down on the creature's skull. The ground shook . The Hygron's head split at the crown; grey matter and black blood sprayed in an arc that hissed when it hit the fire. The body twitched twice, then fell apart with a sound like meat hitting stone, the impact sent shockwaves across the town.
Far beyond the breach, Scarface felt it — a pulse not of wind but of weight, familiar but at the same time wrong
He turned where he stood on the ridge, eyes narrowing, trying to sense where its from "Something's moving, no someone," he muttered. "Someone like me."
The air stirred at his back. Hygrons shifted, restless, sensing his intent.
Scarface's grin returned, slow and feral. He pointed toward the town. "Take me there."
One of the beasts obeyed. It crouched so slow, muscles tightening, and then it launched him with so much force that the air itself split.
He rose through smoke and dust, coat snapping, body silhouetted against the burning sky. Like a perfect description of a titan that fell from the heavens. For a heartbeat he hung there — a dark shape above the ruin — and then came down.
He hit the ground like a meteor. Stone buckled. The shockwave rolled through the square, toppling bodies of his fallen comrades and civilians, shattering windows.
Conrad turned toward the crater, blood drying on his coat.
Scarface stood inside it, one knee bent to the ground, head bowed. When he looked up, firelight cut across the old scar that named him. Behind him, the Hygrons roared, their calls vibrating through the bones of the city. their master has joined the Frey
The two men faced each other, measuring each other — Bureau steel against wild earth, patience against storm, a man that looks ordinary against a titan of flesh and ruin.
Scarface straightened, eyes flicking over the corpses of his comrades then over to the fallen Hygron. "who are you" Conrad said nothing. Scarface's grin widened. "Didn't think i will find another here of all places"
Conrad flexed his fingers; the cracks in his gloves deepened, stone showing beneath. "I'm just a ghost" he said quietly. "here to end a rumor."
Scarface laughed once, low and genuine. "Then let's make a new one."
The wind twisted between them, fire climbing the walls. Somewhere far off, thunder answered — or maybe it was the earth, shifting to watch.
And as the two stepped forward, the night bent under their weight.