The city had grown, several times larger than before.

Elias's planning was meticulous, each district and boulevard meticulously charted, the architecture a near-perfect balance of elegance and utility. 

And yet... Mize couldn't shake the feeling that something felt off.

Why were there so many twisted alleys? Why were the streets layered, stacked oddly between buildings like tunnels in a termite mound? 

It reminded her of a hive from some story she once read, labyrinthine, dense, alive in the worst kind of way.

And somewhere in those shadowy folds of stone and brick, buried in the guts of the city, something was unfolding.

A scene.

A slaughter.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

“Arghh!!”

The screams burst out like splashes of cold water, sharp and wet against the stillness of the walls.

A figure, clad in darkened armor, shot like a streak of metal through the gloom. 

His sword flashed, cutting arcs of steel into cloaked shapes moving between shadows.

With each slash, another body dropped, twitching violently in a pool of blood, their disguises melting away to reveal malformed, grotesque figures beneath. 

But the others didn’t flinch. 

They snarled and swarmed instead, circling the lone figure with desperate hunger in their eyes.

Boom!

Clang!

Boom!

Several of the cloaked monsters managed to intercept his strikes, but the cost was steep, hands went numb from the impact, claws cracked and splintered. 

The force of each clash sent them stumbling back, dazed, some crashing against the damp alley walls.

"Take him down! Take him down!" one of them screeched. "He’s one of the strong ones! Kill him and we feast tonight!"

"Then, disperse!"

“Roar!!”

“HahahaHahahaha!”

They lunged forward, one after another, darting across the walls like oversized geckos, leaping down with animalistic motion. 

This wasn’t a desperate fight, it was a well-planned ambush. 

They’d drawn the 'knight' in, lured him into their territory, and now, they'd bleed him out slowly. 

Stamina first. 

Then flesh.

Losses didn’t concern them. 

Their numbers had swelled in recent days. 

Sayfein had done a good work. 

A few deaths? Who cared? 

There was always more meat to replace them. 

What mattered was the hunt.

Boom!

Clang!

Boom!

The air explodey with every collision, sparks bursting with each desperate parry and counterstrike. 

The figure held his ground like a raging beast, his sword sweeping wide, driving back attackers and cleaving through two more in a violent arc.

But luck had its limits.

As his foot landed on a loose tile, something clicked beneath the surface. 

His eyes widened. 

'trap?'

Too late.

BOOM!

The ground erupted beneath him.

Dust and debris flared out in a burst, and his armored body flew back, crashing hard against the wall. 

Part of his chestplate tore away, exposing the raw, bleeding wound beneath.

He gritted his teeth and rose instantly, sword raised again, but the monsters were already moving in. 

They’d seen the blood. 

They smelled it.

Boom!

Clang!

Another strike came. He blocked, but he was too slow. 

One slipped through.

A flash of claws.

A sickening tear.

His right arm went flying, armor and all, severed at the elbow.

Blood exploded from the stump, splattering across the wall. 

One of the creatures leapt into the air and licked at the droplets mid-fall, his forked tongue shivering with ecstasy.

But that joy was short-lived.

Slick... CRACK!

A massive blade descended, cleaving the grinning creature’s head clean from his shoulders. 

It hit the ground with a dull thud. 

The sword followed through, smashing into the cobblestone with such force that a small crater opened beneath it.

The dust kicked up into the air. 

The others retreated a few steps, silent now.

Then, laughter.

Mocking. Sneering.

“He’s weakened now…”

“Hah. That idiot earlier thought he could solo a knight.”

“A camel’s still a camel, even half-dead. But now? Let’s just watch.”

“Let him bleed. Let him rot. No one’s coming to save him.”

“Church scum… Die. Die. Die.”

Their voices echoed like a broken choir in the alley. 

The figure didn’t move. 

His breathing was shallow, uneven. 

Blood ran freely down his side, soaking the torn fabric beneath the armor.

But his grip didn’t loosen.

His left hand clenched tighter around the sword hilt, gauntleted fingers locking down. 

It was as if pain didn’t exist in his world. 

Or perhaps he’d simply discarded it.

Behind the steel of his helm, his eyes calm.

He straightened his posture with a quiet grunt, feet steadying against the stone. 

He raised his sword, pointing the bloodstained tip toward the monsters that still lingered in the shadows.

His voice came out rough. 

“You want to eat me, beasts? Let’s see how many more I can drag to hell with me before that happens.”

A moment of silence.

Then.

“ROARRR!!”

“Bastard!!”

The creatures howled in rage, their screeches bouncing off the walls, twisted and inhuman.

Their rhythm had been broken. 

Their prey was still standing. And worse he was still fighting.

The battle pressed on.

Despite his injuries, the knight held his ground, each movement accurately struck, each blow delivered in deadly clashes. 

He fought like a wounded beast cornered in its own den, and terrifyingly efficient.

One step misplaced, one missed breath, another head flew, another body dropped.

It didn’t take long.

Now, only five cloaked figures remained, breathing raggedly in the blood-soaked alley.

Some clutched at torn stumps where arms used to be. Others stumbled, leaking blood from deep gashes across their torsos.

Opposite them stood the knight, battered but somehow... fiercer than ever.

Both of his arms? 

Gone. 

Severed at the shoulders.

His sword?

“H-He’s wielding it with his mouth?! What kind of sick joke is this?!”

“Hiss... is this even worth it? We’ve lost too many, there’s barely any of us left now!”

“No backing down! If we retreat now, we die anyway!”

“So close! So close! Just fall already!!”

The figure listened to their panicked chatter.

From behind the blood-smeared helm, his eyes glinted, not with pain, but disdain.

His shoulders dipped. 

His breathing hissed through the helmet’s slits like a rusted vent pipe straining to hold pressure. 

And then, with a low crouch and a whisper of steel scraping air, he sprang forward.

The pressure hit them like a wave.

Three of them froze. 

Then.

“HE’S COMING!”

Boom.

The knight turned his head. His eyes locked onto the blur rushing toward him.

Jn a single movement, his neck twisted, and his body followed. 

The sword followed too, swinging with the weight and timing of a sledgehammer.

The nearest cloaked figure had no time to pull away.

Gritting his teeth, the creature’s hands contorted into jagged claws as he swung upward in desperation.

Boom!

The claws shattered on impact. 

The blade sank into his shoulder and cleaved downward, stopping only at the waist.

He roared, mouth frothing, one arm still flailing. 

He grabbed the sword with his remaining hand, refusing to fall.

The knight twisted, forcing the steel downward, then planted a boot right into the creature’s face.

Crack.

The monster flew backwards, flung like a snapped kite, crashing into the stone with a broken screech.

“DAMN IT!”

“KILL HIM!!”

The rest shrieked and lunged, a pack of starving wolves descending on prey that refused to die.

Despite the state of his body, he weaved between their blows like he’d rehearsed this a thousand times, ducking, sidestepping, parrying. 

The heavy blade spun and chopped as if it were weightless.

The sight struck something in the cloaked figures.

 Fear.

“What the hell?! The prior ones went down like nothing, why is this one so hard to kill?!”

Argh!

He didn’t finish that sentence.

The knight’s sword came from above, a clean arc that split him open like a log under an axe. 

Blood sprayed. 

His body split in two, folding away from itself as the expression of disbelief lingered, frozen on both halves of his face.