Friday, April 24th. Dark Town.
Fyar opened his eyes. Thin, pale morning light slipped through the single small window, barred with iron, in the corner of the room. From beyond his rough wooden walls, the muffled sounds of light conversation and footsteps could already be heard. The people of Dark Town had begun their day.
The top-eight bracket of the tournament would begin tomorrow, Saturday. The organizers had given the participants two days to rest and prepare.
A week. I’ve been here for a week, Fyar thought, letting out a slow breath. The air in the room was stale, smelling of dust and old wood.
He pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of his rickety bed. The straw mattress rustled beneath him. His eyes fell on his katana, which was leaning against the small wooden table. On that table, his white mask lay facing up, staring at the ceiling with a vacant expression.
I wonder if Robert managed to replicate that bullet. I hope he doesn’t start a weapons revolution somewhere else, Fyar mused internally.
He began his morning routine. After relieving himself in a tin pot in the corner, he started his physical training on the slightly sloped wooden floor. Three hundred push-ups, then three hundred sit-ups. A burn ignited in his abdominal and arm muscles, and his breath came in ragged gasps in the quiet room. He held a plank until his body trembled violently, then finished his session with several straight kicks and thirty minutes of shadow boxing. Sweat soaked the thin black shirt he wore, clinging to his skin.
After a cursory wash with cold water from a bucket, Fyar put on his usual clothes: worn brown trousers and a long-sleeved black shirt. Today, he planned to go to Kail’s headquarters to get information on his next opponent, a female mage. Fyar had spent all of yesterday researching ways to defeat a Witch, but not a single strategy felt truly certain.
Fyar descended the creaking wooden stairs, and the smell of stale ale and toasted bread immediately met him. The scene in the tavern below, though squalid and dim, felt familiar for some reason. A few hard-faced men were discussing something in low voices at a table, occasionally glancing toward the stairs, talking about the tournament fights. Others just sat lost in thought, nursing their simple breakfasts.
A middle-aged man with a scarred cheek who was playing cards saw Fyar and broke into a wide grin. He waved his hand enthusiastically. "Oh, Starfall! How are you! Hahaha, thanks to you I won big last Wednesday!"
The greeting drew the attention of others.
"Oh, Starfall, you’re awake? Ha!"
"Oi, it’s that Starfall... shit."
"Heard he cheated against that Hunter!"
"Ssh, not so loud, you idiot!"
Several pairs of eyes were now on him, a mixture of respect, curiosity, and fear. Fyar simply returned their greetings with a slight nod, his face impassive. He walked to the bar and ordered his usual breakfast: thick bread slathered with sweet chocolate paste and a mug of hot chocolate.
He chose an empty table in the far corner, his back to the wall, giving him a full view of the entire room. As he chewed the dense bread, his mind drifted.
Martis and his men have started to notice me. Illya has also started her trade war with Martis. I hope Illya and the others are okay.
He paused his chewing for a moment. An image of Illya’s face surfaced in his mind. I still can’t believe I would fall in love with someone here. It might be awkward when I see Illya again. She might just reject me.
Fyar shook his head slightly, banishing the thought. No. Even if she rejects me, I won’t regret it.
After finishing his breakfast, Fyar left a few coins on the table and walked out of the inn. The damp morning air of Dark Town greeted him. He walked toward Kail’s headquarters, his boots echoing on the uneven stone streets. Dull, cracked stone buildings rose up on both sides, blocking most of the sunlight. A ditch filled with murky water ran down the middle of the road, emitting a foul smell.
As Fyar passed through a narrow and dark alleyway, his steps suddenly halted. His instincts sent a signal of danger through his entire body.
Someone’s following me. Fyar narrowed his eyes. His hand moved slowly, preparing to draw the katana at his waist.
"I know you’re there. Come out, coward!" he shouted, his voice echoing between the stone walls.
The sound of several heavy footsteps came from behind him. Fyar turned. Three tall, muscular men dressed in the all-red attire of hired thugs had blocked his exit. They each carried a medium-sized spear. One of them, a bald man with a tattoo on his neck, grinned.
"Yoo YO YO, Starfall. Doin’ alright? Looks like you’re out for a stroll, huh?" he said mockingly. "We just want your autograph. Seriously!!."
Who are they? What do they want? Fyar slowly backed away, his eyes scanning their every small movement.
Fyar chuckled from behind his mask. "hah an autograph? By beating me up?"
The bald man took a step forward. "Ah, who knows?"
"What’s your goal? Don’t tell me you’re just a bunch of sore losers who lost a bet and want to take your stupidity out on me?" Fyar said, his voice cold.
"You figured it out, bastard!" one of the men on the right yelled and charged at Fyar, swinging his spear horizontally.
Fyar quickly ducked under the attack.
Swish!
The sharp tip of the spear passed just centimeters above his hair. Without pause, Fyar launched a straight kick that connected squarely with the man’s stomach, making him cough and stumble back.
"you bitch!"
"Die, you dog!"
The other two men now joined the attack from different sides, thrusting their spears simultaneously. Fyar moved efficiently, easily avoiding both attacks. "I’ll count to three. If you don’t leave, I’ll get serious about breaking you or killing you," he hissed.
"Don’t act tough, you dog!" The man on the left launched a quick thrust aimed at Fyar’s liver.
Useless, Fyar muttered.
Swish!
With a single swift motion, Fyar caught the spear’s wooden shaft with his left hand. He pulled it hard, throwing the man off balance and lurching forward. Fyar’s right foot met him with a hard kick to the solar plexus.
"Ughh!" The man collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach.
The other two, seeing their companion fall, charged forward in unison to engage Fyar in close quarters.
Swish! Swish!
Fyar caught both spear shafts with his hands. However, the two men had apparently anticipated this. They immediately let go of their spears and rushed forward.
Fyar gave them no chance. He spun one of the spears he now held and slammed its butt end into the head of the man on his right. The man crumpled to the ground, instantly unconscious.
"You dog! Die, die!" The last remaining man leaped forward with his fists clenched.
Fyar dropped the spears and met him with a single swift and brutal attack: a hard kick aimed directly at the man’s groin.
Thud!
The man collapsed, his eyes wide with pain before he curled up on the ground.
The first man who had attacked was now stirring. He looked up at Fyar with eyes full of terror.
"Next time, don’t be stupid," Fyar said. He then tossed the spears down near them and walked away without a second glance. "A strange day," he mumbled.
Fyar continued on his way. Soon, he arrived at a large stone building, more solidly built than the others around it. This was Kail’s headquarters. Two burly guards who usually eyed him with suspicion now stood straight and bowed respectfully as he approached.
"Starfall!"
These shit are suddenly polite, Fyar thought. He just gave a slight nod and stepped inside.
The atmosphere inside was livelier. Several of Kail’s men who were gambling or drinking beer also greeted him amicably. One man who was chatting with his friend turned. "Oh, Starfall! I bet you’re here to see the boss?!"
Fyar nodded. "Is he in?"
The man pointed toward a corridor at the end of the room with a smile. "He’s in his office, as usual!"
Fyar nodded again and walked towards the corridor, passing several other rooms until he arrived before a large, thick wooden door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"It’s me, Kail. I’m here for the information on my opponent."
Fyar stood silently, waiting for a reply.
But no sound came from within.
Silence.
Is he asleep? Fyar muttered to himself.
He knocked again, this time harder.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Oi, ARE YOU DEF OI?!?"
Still no answer.
Fyar’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Something’s wrong.
He grabbed the cold doorknob and slowly pushed the door open. It let out a low creak as it swung inward.
"Oi, DOG, why didn’t you answer, you son of a—"
In the middle of the dim room, near Kail’s large desk, stood a figure in a white robe. And in that figure’s hand was Kail’s severed head.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The soft sound was that of blood dripping from Kail’s cleanly severed neck, falling onto the stone floor and forming a small, dark pool.
The words caught in his throat. His pupils constricted to pinpricks, and a cold sweat began to trickle down his neck. The sight before him made his blood run cold.
"W-wh..." Fyar couldn’t even form a single word. His entire body was rigid, his muscles refusing to move. The thick, coppery smell of blood filled the air, assaulting his nostrils.
The robed figure slowly turned to face Fyar. It was a woman with brown hair and tan skin. She wore immaculate white clothes that contrasted sharply with the bloody head in her hand. The woman’s expression was flat, her eyes cold and devoid of any emotion.
"You’ve finally come, Starfall." A thin, horrifying smile began to form on her face.
Who is she?! One of Martis’s people?! Whitening?! But she’s dressed in all white... Another gang?! What’s her goal?! Wild theories tore through his mind, but his body remained frozen. I can’t move! Dammit, why? Is it because of her? Is she an Assassin? a Witch?
The woman then began to walk slowly toward Fyar. Each step was accompanied by the sickening sound of dripping blood.
Drip... drip... drip!
She stopped directly in front of Fyar. With a calm motion, she lifted Fyar’s stiff hand and made his fingers wrap around Kail’s cold, wet head.
What is she planning?! fuck fuck, I can’t move shit! Fyar struggled with all his might to pull his hand back, to move his body, but it was all in vain.
The woman smiled wider at Fyar before snapping her fingers.
Click!
Instantly, the woman’s form melted away like a black shadow, merging with the darkness of the room and vanishing without a trace.
The moment she disappeared, Fyar could finally move his body. He gasped, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He looked down in horror at Kail’s head, now in his own hand.
"Starfall!!!!! What-WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO????!!"
Suddenly, the enraged shouts of Kail’s men erupted from behind him. They had arrived.