Liam's heart pounded as he sprinted through the ruined district, his breath sharp and uneven.
Beside him, Riven moved with practiced ease, her golden eyes scanning every shadow, every flicker of movement. They were being hunted.
The moment they had fled the factory, the air had shifted.
The city felt different.
Like something was watching. Waiting.
"We're not alone," Noctis warned, his voice tense. "Keep moving."
Liam didn't require a warning once.
The face of the character from the Abyss Order inside the factory when it was collapsing torched his brain. It had released them.
And that was what frightened him more than anything.
Because that indicated that it was toying with them.
---
---
The seedy underbelly of the city lay before them—vacant structures, broken roads, rusting street lamps which cast faint light.
It was nighttime. Everybody was sleeping.
But something else was awake.
A shiver ran down Liam's spine. The shadows near him writhed unnaturally.
Riven cursed. "They're already here."
Liam spun around. "Who?"
As if to respond, the air distorted.
A person coalesced out of nothing, their form covered in a thick, black obsidian cloak. Their face was concealed behind a smooth, featureless white mask.
Then another.
And another.
Three. Five. Seven.
They appeared quietly, encircling the alley, their sheer number overwhelming all noise.
Liam's muscles flexed. His instincts shrieked for him to run.
But pride would not listen.
Riven growled, "You really upset them, didn't you?"
Liam's silver eyes flared. "Yeah," he gasped. "I have that kind of effect on humans."
The nearest masked figure advanced.
A voice—not heard, but sensed—echoed in Liam's mind.
"Surrender, Shadowborn."
A command.
Liam smiled. "You first."
And then he released.
---
---
Liam's shadows burst out, attacking the nearest masked figure like living chains.
But they wouldn't budge.
The instant his shadows fell on them—poof. Gone.
Liam's eyes widened.
"Liam, MOVE!" Noctis yelled.
He rolled out of the way just in time—a lethal black sword sliced through the space he'd just occupied.
The masked assassin had covered the distance in an instant.
Liam dodged it by inches, but the moment he did, two others rushed at him.
Quick. Accurate. Merciless.
Liam kicked off backwards, spinning in the air, and landed against the side of a building—his shadows holding him to the wall.
Riven was already moving, daggers flashing as she dodged the masked men. But even she was being pressed.
One of them threw up a white arm—Riven was knocked backwards in mid-dodge, slammed onto the pavement by an unseen fist.
Liam's eyes widened. "Riven—!"
She rolled at the very last moment, avoiding a death blow by mere inches.
Liam snapped.
He stepped forward, darkness swirling, straight at the masked one who was closest to her.
His fist—enveloped in darkness—struck their chest.
The figure disintegrated.
One of them had fallen for the very first time.
Liam didn't hesitate. He whirled—his shadows forming a blade in his hand—and sliced at its mask.
The mask shattered.
The figure emitted a silent gasp—before its body turned to nothing.
Liam's silver eyes tightened.
"They may be killed," Noctis breathed. "But we will have to be accurate."
Liam took a deep breath. "Fine." He turned on the others.
"Let me see how many of you I can break."
---
Liam and Riven fought back-to-back, swift and merciless movements.
Riven's daggers cut openings, her strikes patient, unmerciful.
Liam's shadows tore through the air, severe and accurate.
The men in masks fell, one by one.
But not enough.
They kept coming.
For each one that Liam and Riven took down, two more came forward.
The air thickened. The pressure built.
Then—
Another shape came forward.
Bigger. Stronger. More substantial.
Their mask was not white.
It was black.
Riven froze. "Oh, shit."
Liam's eyes snapped to the stranger. They were different.
Stronger.
Smarter.
The black-masked individual moved a hand forward.
Liam's body paralyzed.
A flash of raw abyssal power slapped him.
His eyes blurred.
The world spun.
His shadows vanished.
Noctis yelled in his mind—but he could not hear it.
Because at that moment—
Liam was consumed by true helplessness.
---
The black-masked individual moved up, angling their head at an odd degree.
Liam couldn't breathe, his body locked, caught up in something that had nothing to do with physical strength.
His power was being taken from him.
He could sense it.
He struggled, but it was like drowning in heavy ink—his arms leaden, his mind sluggish.
And then—
The black-masked man spoke.
Not with words.
But into his very soul.
"Come with us, Liam Vaelthorne."
Liam's heart stopped.
They knew his name.
They knew he was alive.
Riven stumbled up, blood seeping down her arm. "Liam, come to—!"
But Liam couldn't move.
The void was drawing him under.
And for the first time ever—
He felt himself being pulled down.
---
---
Then—
A voice pierced the shadows.
A voice Liam had never heard before.
"ENOUGH."
A new presence erupted into existence—powerful, blinding.
The black-masked stranger staggered back.
Liam's breath came out as the power that held him slackened.
His knees bounced onto pavement, his breathing labored.
He gazed upward.
A new figure stood in front of him—a man wearing worn black robes, his eyes burning like fading stars.
The masked figures hesitated.
For the first time—they were terrified.
The man took a deep breath. "This one is not yours to claim."
The masked figures vanished.
All of them.
Gone in an instant.
Leaving only Liam, Riven… and the stranger.
Liam clenched his fists, his entire body shaking. "Who… are you?"
The man looked down at him, his eyes weighing, unreadable.
Then he smiled.
"A friend."
Liam wasn't sure if he could believe him.
But he did know something.
This wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.