The battle raged on, echoes of destruction filling the night air. Shattered stone and dust whirled in the chaos as attacks came one after another. Yamori twisted midair, grey eyes flashing as jagged boulders hurtled toward him. With the narrowest graze—just enough to cut a strand of his hair—he slipped past the barrage. Landing with a predator's grace, he wasted no time, grabbing Yuna by the wrist and pulling her into the shadows of a collapsed wall.
Yuna's sharp glare met him instantly, her lips curling with irritation.
"What are you doing, brat? If we keep holding back, if we don't keep attacking, we might—"
Yamori's hand pressed over her mouth before she could finish. His sigh was quiet but edged with calculation. His grey eyes narrowed.
"First… lower your voice. We're up against a Zodiac user, and by the look of it, a Star. That's not the kind of opponent you rush head-on against. And you… you're not a Zodiac user, are you?"
Before Yuna could respond, a spark of energy crackled faintly between them. Yamori froze. It was the same strange pull he felt the very first time he had crossed paths with her. Something beyond human.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"What exactly are you? You aren't human, that much is obvious."
Yuna's eyes narrowed dangerously. Instead of answering, she leaned forward and licked the palm covering her mouth. Yamori recoiled with mild disgust, wiping his hand away as her face twisted with irritation.
"What's it to you, huh? For your information, we are a spirit. And tell me—how did you find us anyway?"
Yamori exhaled slowly, weighing his words. His eyes flicked to Carlos, who was still prowling through the wreckage, scanning for them. Calmly, Yamori picked up a pebble and tossed it across the dock. The small clatter drew Carlos's attention away for the moment.
"A spirit, hm? We? So not one, but two spirits in a single body… no—" he corrected himself, eyes narrowing as the pieces connected. "Two souls intertwined into one vessel. This… could work." He glanced back at Yuna. "As for how I ended up here, I was running an errand for the old man. Ran into Lenny on the way. He said you needed help… and the look on his face told me everything."
Yuta stirred within, her presence brushing faintly against Yuna's expression. She rolled her eyes. "Tch. Typical."
Yamori rose slightly, brushing the dust from his coat. His grey eyes gleamed with quiet calculation.
"Spirits can shift forms at will, can they not? If so… I have an idea."
The clash on the dock faded from their immediate attention, but far away—in the heart of Solthar—the storm brewed differently.
Within the royal castle, rain hammered against the windows, heavy and relentless. The throne room, vast and echoing, was bathed in cold torchlight. King Damien sat upon his seat of authority, posture tense, long brown hair falling loosely over his shoulders. His blue eyes drifted toward the rain-streaked window.
His voice broke the silence, filled with frustration.
"What is taking so long? I hired those fools to retrieve the lost artifact. Dealing with gutter rats of the underground was a mistake. Foolish… utterly foolish."
"Indeed it was."
The voice slithered through the chamber like smoke.
Damien froze. His blood ran cold, every instinct screaming danger. Too slow—he barely turned before a hand seized his hair and yanked him upward, dragging him off his throne as though he were weightless. His panicked eyes rose to meet a figure clad in full blackened armor. The helm bore a single crest—a star etched in steel—its design sharp, angular, like a jagged constellation carved into midnight metal. Blue veins of light pulsed faintly across the armor's surface, glowing like breath trapped in stone.
"W-who are y-you? H-how did you get past my guards—?"
The words choked off as the armored man hurled him across the hall. Damien's body slammed into the wall with a crack of ribs, blood splattering against the marble. His breath came ragged, pain threatening to overwhelm him. Before he could rise, a massive sword buried itself in the wall inches from his neck, the force shaking the chamber.
The armored figure approached, steps heavy, purposeful.
"Y-you can't do this!" Damien spat, voice strained. "I am king of this realm! I'll have your head, even in death! This is treason!"
The intruder's voice was smooth, controlled—cold as a blade dipped in ice.
"Treason? Kings commit worse sins under the guise of crowns. Speaking of which… do you remember sending my former followers to abduct a child? Treason, you say, yet your hands are far filthier. Hypocrisy, thy name is Damien."
The knight gripped his sword's hilt, pressing it closer against Damien's throat. The king's hands scrabbled weakly, but his strength drained, smothered by the sheer weight of his foe's presence. His own authority as king meant nothing here.
"W-who are you? H-how do you know about—?"
The armored man paused. His helm tilted downward, blue light flaring briefly across its etched star.
"Who am I?" His voice reverberated, calm yet venomous. "You may call me the Abyssal Captain. But it won't matter—you won't live long enough to tell another soul." His sword pulsed with a haunting glow, aura spilling out like ghostly fog. "But take these parting words to the grave: I am the nightmare of sinners like you."
Before Damien could draw another breath, the blade sang through the air. A clean strike. His head fell, thudding against the floor as his lifeless body slumped in silence.
The Abyssal Captain turned without pause, striding to the balcony. With a flick of his fingers, the great sword ripped itself free of the stone wall and flew into place across his back, locking seamlessly into its sheath. Rain battered the balcony's edge as the knight gazed outward, voice low and steady.
"I hope you can forgive the foolish soldiers who bore my banner, Mother. They strayed and sinned, but I… I have claimed another wretch in your name." He exhaled softly, the storm outside echoing his words. "Just like the rain, sinners fall. And I… I am the downpour."
The sword flared once more with that eerie, mist-like glow, and the Abyssal Captain dissolved into the night air—fading like dust swallowed by the storm.
--