The scene was quiet now. Phantom had been buried beneath the rubble of a collapsed tunnel, the ceiling torn down by a fireball large enough to shatter solid stone walls. Any other enemy would have been turned to ash. Kira stood at the edge of the wreckage, her sword still drawn, her armor gleaming with the remnants of battle heat. She stared down at the ruins with narrowed eyes, her chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. There was no movement, everything lay still, not even a shimmer of sorcery or sign of magic leakage. Phantom should be dead.
Even if he could phase through attacks, there was no reason to believe he could phase through a solid structure collapse. Not this much mass. There were tons of stone and metal all crashing in on him at once. It wasn't possible. That was the conclusion she settled on.
She turned around, preparing to walk away. Her duty had been fulfilled. But then she heard it. A voice that was calm and deep. Too casual to belong to a dying man. It came not from beneath the rubble but above it.
"In the night, when the shade of darkness covers everything that claims to glitter. A lone flower, far from its habitat, tries to stretch roots in an unfamiliar place. Seeking sunlight and waiting to bloom. But not even the light of the moon shall shine where I cast my shadow."
Kira froze mid-step. She gripped her weapon tighter. Slowly, she turned back toward the pile of shattered stone.
There he was. Phantom, he was sitting with one leg draped over the other, on top of the rubble like it was his throne. Not even a speck of dust clung to his clothes, his hood slightly tilted, but he looked comfortable and calm. There wasn't even a scratch on him. As if the collapse had never happened.
Her mouth tightened. Her voice came out low, barely above a breath, filled with confusion and resentment. "What sorcery is this?"
Her blade was still resting in her palm, she simply stared at Zane, not as a soldier gazes at a target, or some creature that had seen prey. Instead she regarded him as someone who had finally discerned the periphery of a mystery, who now knew how to counter it, and yet she decided to face him.
Zane tilted his head. His lips formed a crooked smile. "Three sunshifts, I've been waiting that long," he said, voice echoing faintly off the blistered walls. "I was starting to think you got lost."
Kira failed to reply. She simply stepped forward slowly, her sword still poised, her eyes bright and alert. She glanced behind him to the horror of the fallen knights. The final silence of defeat.
"You killed far too many this time."
Zane let out a low chuckle, amused, as if she'd just delivered a joke at a standup comedy. Then the smile vanished, replaced with something sober and cold. "I didn't come here looking for mercy. I came to remind merciful men of justice. Once upon a time I held back, thinking maybe just this once the law would come and take care of it. Maybe good men would take to the fight. But the sound of metal means more than mere words."
He stood and sheathed his sword slowly, almost ceremonially, then he dusted his hands. This action caused flames to explode in Kira's heart. Was he going to marry.
"Don't you run!" she yelled, fury rising as her aura began to heat.
She lunged and moved like a burning arrow, flames surging along her legs and arms. Zane felt the pressure of her magic before she even got close. She was strong. An Ascended, above his level. It was clear Kira focused her talents on the fire element. It made sense if one thought about it. Since she was practicing both chi wielding and chi art, she had to be effective. So she found out what element she worked with well and invested her time in it. The element of fire.
Then his form blurred. In a blink, he reappeared behind her.
He raised his blade to strike, but before it connected, her body twisted midair. The flames on her legs burned hotter and she snapped backward in a flaming kick. Zane was caught off guard, the impact knocking him back several meters. He skidded across the stone, boots dragging lines in the dirt, cape trailing behind.
Kira landed in a low stance, legs bent, blade pointed toward him. She looked like a painting of a warrior goddess. Fire curled at her heels. And her breath was steady.
Zane stood and flexed his fingers. His hands still vibrated from the force of the collision. He had faced strong enemies before, but never one like her. His grin returned. "Finally. A real challenge."
But then he stepped back. "Not tonight though, it's way past my bedtime."
"What's wrong? You can't handle a real challenge?" she asked. "You think I'll let you walk away?"
"I think," he said while approaching slowly, "you'll try."
They stared at each other, neither blinking. The rubble still smoked around them. The heat between them hadn't faded. But Zane turned, giving her a sideways glance over his shoulder. "Adios," he said, waving tauntingly. And then he vanished. Kira didn't chase. She stood there, sword still ready, eyes burning with intensity. "Teleportation?" she muttered, though even she doubted it.
Back at the camp a guard patrolling the cells whistled as he reached the cell where the townsfolk were. He was tasked with checking the prisoners; if he saw any suspicious happenings, the alarm would surely be sounded. Phantom might have been fast, but even he couldn't be in two places at once. The guard began counting, one, two, three… eight he counted, his gaze lingered on where Zane was supposed to be. Zane, whom he didn't know had vanished and reappeared, sat with his eyes closed. He had made it back into his cell for a checkup and a little bit of sleep.
Back at the tower, Lisa began examining the scene for any clues to figure out Phantom. Smoke still lingered in the deeper halls, curling under doorframes and clinging to the scorched stones, but the chaos was over. Bodies lay still in the upper courtyard, their blood already dried. Broken weapons littered the corridors. Most of the guards were still unconscious or too wounded to move.
Lisa stood alone in the lower cells, the air damp and stale around her. Her footsteps echoed quietly as she stepped through the final arch into the farthest room. This was where the two men had been held, the ones marked for execution at dawn.
Their cells were open. The chains lay empty on the floor. She stared at them. It wasn't damaged or forced open. No magical residue, only beautiful absence.
Lisa didn't speak. She just stood there, her sword lowered at her side, the last traces of adrenaline still humming beneath her skin.
She retraced his battle in her mind, the fight in the tunnels, the heat of the flames, the way he blurred and disappeared and reappeared like a shifting shadow. She had seen him occupied the entire time. She knew that. He hadn't left her sight for more than a breath. And yet, here it was.
Two missing prisoners. Lisa pressed her back against the cold wall, exhaled slowly, and let her gaze drop to the floor.
Just who was Phantom?
His story didn't make sense. His techniques, his power, none of it fit into the records. A man who was capable of weaving illegal sorcery while matching five knights in live combat would have been recognized from a young age. No mentor. No formal training then, no lineage. He was a freak.
If she knew Zane was just eighteen, she would have thought about how unfair the world was.
Her eyes narrowed as she remembered the moment her flaming leg had collided with his sword. For a split second, he'd lost footing. She'd seen it. That wasn't phasing. That wasn't an illusion. That was an impact.
He was real. Tangible. Vulnerable.
She could feel the resistance in her leg when she swept him with fire. The sword hadn't vanished, it had caught. And that told her one thing. He could be hit.
He wasn't some ghost of vengeance. He was flesh and blood. One just needed the right timing. The realization sparked a quiet grin across her face. Not one of victory, but of certainty. She would smash his face the next time they fought.