Chapter 80 — The Shadows Beneath the Festival

The night was alive with color.


Strings of lanterns hung from one rooftop to another, their soft glow painting the cobblestone streets in hues of amber and rose. Petals scattered on the wind, falling from garlands that swayed gently above, and laughter still echoed faintly from the square behind us.


Sylvie was asleep back at the inn, her small hand still clutching the corner of a blanket when we left. Narissa had tucked her in before we slipped out — quiet, deliberate, unseen.


Now, the streets were mostly empty. The festival had begun to fade, replaced by the quiet hum of late hours. Yet one figure still moved ahead of us — the same cloaked stranger who had entered the tavern earlier.


His steps were steady but measured. Too measured.


The flickering lantern light glinted faintly off something beneath his cloak — metal, perhaps. Every few steps, his head turned ever so slightly, as though gauging the distance between us.


“He knows,” I murmured, barely audible.


Narissa’s eyes, reflecting the glow of a nearby lantern, flicked toward me. “Then he wants us to follow.”


I nodded. “Good.”


The air thickened as we followed him down a narrower street lined with decorated stalls — most now abandoned, their colorful ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze. The smell of burnt sugar and flowers lingered in the air, mingling with something faintly acrid, like damp metal.


Every instinct in me screamed that the path was deliberate — the turns too sharp, the roads too clean. We were being led, not chasing.


He turned again, just enough for me to catch the faint outline of a grin beneath his hood. A provocation.


Narissa frowned. “He’s leading us away from the main square.”


“Toward the residential area,” I noted quietly. “Less crowd. More space.”


Her hand brushed lightly against the hilt of her dagger before she steadied herself. “He’s confident.”


“Or desperate.”


We continued down the path, the cobblestones glinting under soft lanternlight. The further we went, the quieter the night became, until only the distant hum of festival music remained behind us.


After a moment, I exhaled sharply. “Why are we even following him?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “It has nothing to do with us.”


Narissa didn’t look at me. Her eyes stayed locked on the cloaked figure ahead. “Yes, it isn’t,” she admitted, “but we will. There’s something fishy about him, Aren — and we must find out what.”


I frowned. “But why? We’re just guests here.”


That made her glance at me, a flicker of dry amusement crossing her face. “Isn’t this town — Arkwyn — part of the Wolfengarde Kingdom?”


“…Yes.”


“And you’re the lord,” she continued, her tone turning teasing but firm. “So it’s your duty to check.”


I sighed, rubbing a hand through my hair. “Fine,” I muttered.


Narissa smirked faintly. “Good answer, my lord.”


I ignored the remark, focusing again on the figure’s movements. His pace had quickened slightly, as if sensing our exchange. He was leading us through streets filled with festival decorations — long chains of paper lanterns, ribbons, and glass charms that glittered like stars.


But beneath the charm of color and light, I could feel it — something darker threading through the air.


The lanterns swayed. A breeze cut through the street, tugging at the ribbons above. And as the sound of laughter faded completely, silence took hold.


Then the figure stopped.


For a heartbeat, nothing moved.


Then — he turned abruptly, his cloak swirling around him like living smoke. A flash of steel darted through the air.


I tilted my head slightly, the blade grazing the edge of my hair before embedding itself into the wooden post behind me.


The sound echoed sharply.


“Not bad,” I said softly.


The figure’s voice rasped through the night. “You shouldn’t have followed.”


He moved fast — unnaturally fast — drawing another dagger from beneath his cloak. The air shimmered faintly around his hands, fire tracing the blade’s edge like a living serpent.


Narissa stepped forward, one hand raised. A spark flared in her palm. “Back off.”


“Try,” he hissed, and lunged.


I stepped into his path. The first blow came low — fast and precise. I parried it with my dagger, the clang ringing sharp against the quiet street. My left fist snapped forward, striking his ribs; he twisted, avoiding the full impact but stumbling back slightly.


His movements were fluid but cautious — every strike meant to test me, not kill.


Good.


Narissa flicked her fingers, sending a small fireball whistling through the air. It burst near the figure’s shoulder, the flare reflecting off his hood. He cursed under his breath and swept his dagger through the flames, scattering embers like shards of gold.


The smell of smoke and metal filled the air.


“Watch the stalls,” I muttered.


She nodded, tightening her control. The next orb she cast hovered near the ground, a low, rolling flame that followed the figure’s steps, forcing him sideways.


He moved again — this time with intent. His free hand traced a sigil midair, faintly glowing crimson before a gust of heated wind burst outward.


Narissa shielded her face with an arm as the lantern strings snapped one by one, scattering petals and sparks.


I slid forward through the confusion, blade low, eyes locked on his center. Our daggers met again, sparks flashing like miniature stars. His strength wasn’t extraordinary — refined, but human. His technique, however, told another story. He fought like someone used to being hunted.


Every movement guarded. Every counter meant to create distance.


He wasn’t trying to win. He was buying time.


Narissa exhaled sharply and released another low-level flame. This one arced above his head before splitting into two, smaller and weaker but perfectly timed to block his retreat.


He leapt back anyway — straight toward the path I had already anticipated.


Predictable.


I dashed in, cutting off his exit, my blade grazing his sleeve. The fabric tore; his arm twisted, and the dagger he’d hidden there clattered to the ground.


He retaliated instantly, a spin kick aimed at my side. I caught it on my forearm, the impact echoing like a dull crack. Pain flared, but I didn’t step back.


“Fast,” I murmured. “But messy.”


He growled, sweeping low to trip me — I shifted weight, driving a knee into his chest. The air whooshed out of him as he staggered backward, colliding with one of the floating light orbs. It burst into shimmering dust, scattering across the street.


Narissa’s firelight painted the scene — flickering shadows, moving figures, the faint glow of mana residue in the air.


For a moment, the world shrank to the sound of our breathing, the clash of metal, the hum of restrained magic.


Then his eyes — or what little I could see of them — flicked briefly past me, toward Narissa.


A shift. A decision.


I saw it the moment before he moved.


His hand snapped up, fire bursting to life around his dagger. The blade spun through the air toward her — a streak of crimson light cutting through the night.


“Narissa!”


I moved.


The dagger tore through the space where she’d been standing a heartbeat before — but I was already there, arm raised, catching the edge of the flame with a burst of compressed wind. The impact cracked through the air like thunder. The blade shattered into embers, scattering against the walls and igniting stray ribbons hanging nearby.


“Narissa, now!” I shouted.


Her fire flared — larger this time, controlled but powerful enough to scatter him backward. The flames chased him along the ground, licking at his boots.


Perfect.


I whispered a single word under my breath, invisible to her. “Now.”


From the start of the clash, the figure had been shaping the battlefield, not me. He moved with a purpose beyond blades — fingers tracing tiny, practiced sigils that drew something from the air. I could feel it, subtle but deliberate, every shift in wind and flicker in the street telling me exactly what he wanted.


Before I could intervene, he released it. Smoke rose suddenly, curling and thickening, rolling through the narrow alley like a living thing. Its tang of iron and burned cord stung my senses. He wanted it to spread, to cover his movements, to draw attention and panic — and I let him.


I could stop him easily, could clear the smoke, could strike him down. But why? There was no benefit in involving myself beyond observation. His small confrontation was a game of distraction, and I already knew the rules. Letting him make that move was part of letting the game play out on his terms — for now.


Narissa coughed, waving at her face, fire flicking in her hands as she tried to aim at him through the haze. “Aren—?”


“Stay focused,” I muttered, stepping slightly aside. My fists and dagger were ready, but I didn’t move to clear the smoke. Let him expend his effort, let him shape the scene. The figure’s movements were deliberate — he wanted Narissa’s attention, wanted to test reaction and reaction times, wanted us distracted. And I let him.


Through the haze, I could see him — the faint outline of the cloaked figure darting between lanterns, stepping lightly over debris. He was calculating, precise, anticipating every glance, every breath. The fire he had lit, the daggers he swung, the patterns of retreat — all carefully orchestrated. And I let it happen.


Narissa staggered back, still coughing, and then shook her head, trying to focus. “He… he’s gone!” Her voice carried both frustration and confusion.


I didn’t answer immediately. I let her think it was an escape, let her believe the figure had slipped from our grasp. In truth, he hadn’t gone anywhere I couldn’t reach — he had simply played the part I allowed him to.


I observed the residue of fire, the faint tang of mana lingering in the smoke. His plan had been obvious from the first moment we stepped out of the tavern. Every move, every feint, every seemingly random strike was designed to create distance, to force us to follow into a trap or a distraction zone. I had anticipated it all.


I finally spoke, voice calm, neutral. “He wanted it to look like he escaped.”


Narissa blinked at me, coughing lightly. “You… let him?”


I gave a faint shrug, my expression calm. “No. It’s just… I don’t have the ability to stop him.”


Her eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and awe crossing her features. “Seriously?”


I let the pause hang between us, saying nothing more. For all she knew, the figure had escaped by skill and cunning. In truth… I had let him go.
A inferior strategy, nothing more.


She shook her head, a small, impressed smile tugging at her lips. “Clever… he used the smoke to vanish. Smart.”


I kept my expression neutral, saying nothing.


Her gaze swept the alley where he had disappeared, lingering on the faint glow of the lanterns he had passed. “We lost him.”


“Seems so,” I murmured, letting the words fall like a faint shadow between us.


Narissa exhaled, brushing soot from her sleeves, then looked at me with a hint of awe. “That was… well-handled. But that guy—he’s dangerous.”


I said nothing. My attention drifted briefly to the street ahead, calm, controlled.


After a beat, she finally spoke. “So… what do we do now?”


“Sleep, I guess,” I replied, voice even.


She gave a small, rueful nod. “Yes… all the fun is cut off the moment he escaped.”


“If he wasn’t alone, I wouldn’t have even come with you to follow him,” I added, letting the words hang casually, though my mind was already turning over possibilities.


“Maybe I wouldn’t have either,” she admitted, voice quiet.


We walked in silence for a few moments, the night air cool against our skin.


Then she spoke again, softly, almost to herself. “He wasn’t alone… he was talking to someone. Inviting him to some kind of gathering.”


A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. She had caught exactly what I’d intended when I said what I did about not following if he wasn’t alone.


“Yes,” I said finally, low and deliberate. “That man… a noble.”


Her eyes sharpened with understanding. “Then we should move quickly. We might get this information from the inn—people there, the staff… the workers.”


I gave a slow nod, already weighing our next steps.


For now, that would have to be enough