Chapter 3

The bed creaked beneath me as I stirred, groggy and stiff. My body felt heavy, skin tacky with dried sweat, and my head... familiarly foggy. What time is it? I blinked at the wooden beams overhead, then turned toward the window. Pale moonlight filtered in.

Still night.

Groaning, chest heavy, I sat up and let out a tired whine. Uuuuuuuuuugh. The kind of exhaustion that clings to your bone, the kind of tiredness where you finally sleep, only to wake up and realize it was for maybe two hours. My body ached for more. I dragged myself to the edge of the bed.

"I need to pee," I muttered like it was my dying wish. I don't know where the bathroom is though.

Dragging myself up, I opened my door and wandered down the dim hallway, debating whether I should start opening doors at random. Luckily, one at the end was already ajar. It looked like a bathroom. Sure enough, primitive toilet setup, bucket system, cold water basin. Functional, if not luxurious.

After finishing up and washing my hands like a proper gentleman, I returned to my room, yawning and rubbing my face. The silence of the house was almost comforting, and I paused at the window, craving fresh air. I opened it slightly, letting the cool night breeze touch my skin.

The view was peaceful. The village rested under the silver moonlight, roofs shadowed, chimneys quiet. Another cool breeze brushed past.

But then, something changed.

The mist.

It wasn’t there before, but now it crept in slowly, curling tendrils slipping between houses and along the dirt paths. Shapes shifted in it, vague and twitching, not quite human. And then-

A scream.

Sharp. Terrified. Real.

I froze. My eyes snapped open wide. Was I imagining things? Another scream followed. Different voice. Closer. And then I saw it. A figure running, chased by something monstrous and indistinct.

A fiery explosion bloomed across the village. Flames leapt across rooftops like wild animals, black smoke billowing upward, swallowing everything in its path. Sparks and embers rained down like dying stars. The wind carried the cries of pain, fear, and chaos.

And I understood every single word. Cries for help. Begs for mercy. I shouldn’t have understood them, but I did. Perfectly.

“Please! Someone help, my leg, I can’t-!”
“Run! Don’t look back!”
“Mama?! M-Mama, where are you?!”

A child's voice cracked through the noise, thin and trembling. “Mama, I’m scared...!”

The words pierced through me, too sharp to be a dream.

I backed away from the window. My pulse roared in my ears as I stumbled down that damn hallway. I staggered through the house, heart still racing. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I opened every door, unafraid of barging in or being rude. Privacy didn’t matter now. Room after room, empty. No Leron. No sign of that quiet woman or the raging older man from earlier.

Downstairs? Still nothing. Just the distant screams bleeding through the walls and the low rumble of something crashing outside. Wood splitting, metal groaning, lives being torn apart.

The front door hung open slightly, a thin trail of fog seeping in like a warning. On a shelf beside it, something gleamed, a knife. Short, wide-bladed. Rough, worn handle. Not meant for cooking.

I reached for it without any hesitation. My hand trembled, but I gripped it tightly. I stared at it for a moment.

What do I do? Do I run? But run where? I just got here. And those people… I couldn’t just leave them behind. They're innocent.

More importantly where was Leron? The other two? Were they safe?

I had no powers. No magic. No idea what the hell I was doing.

But I wasn’t about to stand here while people screamed and burned.

"This is stupid," I muttered, knife trembling in my hand as I moved toward the door. But my feet didn’t stop.

I need to find out what's going on-

Suddenly, I was flung backwards. Pain burst across my side as I slammed into a wooden shelf, the impact sending jars and trinkets crashing to the floor around me. I hit the wall behind it with a thud, knocking the wind clean out of my lungs. The knife slipped from my hand, clattering somewhere among the debris. Dust and shattered glass filled the air as I collapsed to the floorboards, coughing.

Someone, no, something stepped inside.

There was something off about his height. Looming, almost exaggerated, like a shadow stretched by the moon. Wrapped in layers of dark, tattered cloth that clung like smoke to his frame. The hood obscured his face entirely, shadows swallowing every feature beneath. A flicker of firelight caught on something beneath his hood, metallic, smooth, and unmistakably a mask. His presence sucked the warmth out of the room.

He ducked under the doorway with eerie grace, then rose to full height, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. Silent. Still.

Every step he took echoed. Slow, deliberate, and far too calm for the chaos outside. The floor creaked beneath his weight, but the sound felt distant, like the world itself didn’t want to acknowledge he was real.

The air thickened with his arrival. Like even the shadows were bending toward him.

I scrambled toward the knife, but he moved faster. A gloved hand wrapped around my throat, hoisting me effortlessly into the air.

Choking. Kicking. Panicking.

Then he spoke: "You’re not carrying ██ █, █."

I didn’t understand all of it, but some of it made too much sense. It sounded like a language different from the one that the villagers and Leron use.

His grip didn’t loosen. My feet dangled uselessly above the floor, lungs burning as his fingers crushed my windpipe. Stars bloomed in my vision. Shit, I'm already losing consciousness. I thrashed weakly, but it was like trying to bend steel. What can I even do, I can't concentrate. He was too strong. Too composed. Cold. He wasn’t rushing to kill me, rather he was taking his sweet time, observing me maybe?

I try the only thing that could come to my mind, so I stilled, letting my body completely go limp. Eyes half-lidded, breath shallow. Dead weight. For a few agonizing seconds, he kept holding me, maybe to make sure. But then, with an almost disappointed grunt, he let go. I dropped like a sack of grain, my knees slamming the floor hard enough to make stars pop again.

I didn’t move. Barely breathed. My sides hurt, my throat throbbed, but I stayed limp, playing vulnerable, as believable as I could.

With my free hand, I slowly, discreetly felt along the floorboards. My fingers brushed the debris, broken glass, and then, cool metal. The knife. Still close. Still there

I heard the faint shift of fabric. A subtle shuffle of weight. No footsteps, he was already near, looming over me, deciding what to do next. I counted the seconds in my head.

One.

Two.

Three.

Until I felt it. The air moved slightly, possibly a crouch. His shadow dipped lower, breath brushing close to my cheek.

Close enough. Got you fucker.

I snapped forward, hand clutching the blade. I twisted hard and drove it upward, straight into the side of his neck.

Again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again-

However the sensation felt off. Where the blade should've met flesh, there was nothing. No resistance, no tearing, just air. Like stabbing through mist wrapped in cloth.

I froze, breath catching as I glanced up, then blinding pain bloomed in my chest. Sudden, sharp, deep. My organs felt hollowed, torn. Blood poured freely, hot and real.

I looked down. His hand was buried deep inside me, sliding through ribs like smoke but there was no weight, no solid touch. Just a cold, empty presence. The wound was very much real and there, but the feelings of his arm wasn't. Despite me seeing it deep inside my chest, I couldn't feel it. At all.

I gasped, eyes wide, mouth spilling blood. My grip faltered. His mask tilted.

"Foolish █."

Then everything went black.