I have to go back to the place where the body was.
I can't get it out of my head.
Feste moved cautiously through the narrow alley, this step light but deliberate. Every shadow seemed alive, stretching unnaturally as if they were aware of his presence. Broken stones and scattered debris littered the ground, esch telling a story he was determined to read.
Why did this happen? Who would do this?
Feste's thought's spun as he ca he crouched over a faint as he crouched over a faint smear on the ground. It was almost invisible, but to him it screamed of movement, struggle, and intention.
I can't just look away. I have to understand...
He ran his fingers lightly over the crack in the stone, noting the subtle pressure points, the tiny scratches. Every disturbance was a clue. Feste's instincts, honed through observation. The air itself seemed different here thicker, vibrating faintly with unseen energy.
I feel it... something is wrong here. I can't see it, but I know it's here. I have to stay alert
He adjusted his stance, his gaze sweeping every surface of the alley. Broken bricks, faint traces of blood, displaced objects - all were recorded in his mind, cataloged with a precision that bordered on obsession.
Time seemed to stretch. Each heartbeat, each breath, amplified the silence around him. He paused at a corner, crouching low, and focused. Shadows shifted slightly, dust trembled and he felt the faintest pressure on the air.
I can't see him yet... but I know
Feste moved forward slowly, cataloging every step. The alley was no longer just a path, it was a map of force and movement. He followed the trail left by the killer, noticing the deliberate placement of objects and the subtle imbalance in the environment.
He's smart... meticulous. Whoever did this knew what he is doing
Feste's pulse quickened, but his mind was razor-sharp, parsing every fragment of information, building a mental picture of the killer's path.
The alley bent sharply and Feste froze as he noticed another subtle mark. His fingers hovered above it.
It's not random. Everything here is intentional... I have to see the full picture.
He inhaled slowly, listening to the faint echoes of movement and the whisper of air. His instincts screamed that the confrontation was imminent. Every shadow, every sound, every subtle shift in pressure was telling him the same thing. He was not alone and the killer was close.
From the shadows, the killer emerged, moving with a silent confidence that immediately put Feste on edge. The alley seemed to contract around them, shadows pooling unnaturally as though, shadows pooling unnaturally as though alive.
He's fast... too fest. How is he moving like that.
Feste thought, tightening his stance. His fists rose instinctively, but the killer's strikes were precise and deliberate, each one probing for weaknesses, testing his defenses.
Feste dodged a sudden blow, the alley walls scraping against his elbow.
I can't rely on strength alone...
I need to read him, predict his movements.
Every strike told a story, every twitch a hint. Feste sensed something different, something heavier in the air.
The killer lunged again and Feste barely twisted out of the way.
Pain shot through his ribs.
This is impossible...
he's... not normal.
Feste's mind raced to anticipate the next strike, scanning the alley for environmental advantages.
Looses stones, narrow passages, uneven walls. I have to use everything around me. Anything to gain edge.
He struck, a quick jab, aimed to test the opponent's reflexes. The killer dodged smoothly, effortlessly. Feste's chest heaved.
He's analyzing me as much as I'm analyzing him...
Another strike caught him on the shoulder, sending him stumbling. The alley spun, shadows flickering. Feste's heart pounded.
I can't lose... I can't. Not here, not like this.
He forced himself to focus every sense tuned to the smallest detail. The faint pull in the air, the subtle vibration beneath his feet.
He couldn't name it, but it screamed at him that the killer's power was beyond ordinary.
Feste ducked low as a blade swept overhead, feeling the pressure in the air shift, the movement almost like a wave.
What is that.
He wondered, instincts telling him to respect the invisible force behind the strike. His body reacted faster than thought, rolling aside, but the effort left him unsteady.
The killer pressed forward, relentless, calculating. Feste's fists met air, blocks too slow and the alley became a trap.
He struggled to anticipate the next strike, each one faster than the last.
I can't keep this up...
I need to survive
until I understand him.
A sharp pain exploded across his ribs as another blow landed. Feste fell to one knee, vision blurred.
This is it...
I can't...
I'm...
His thoughts faltered, heart hammering in panic and frustration. Every instinct at him to move, to fight, to survive. But his body was failing.
Then, faint movements at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Shadows shifted differently than before.
Something, no someone was observing.
Feste's mind raced.
I"m not alone.
The alley seemed to constrict even more, air thickening as the killer prepared a decisive strike. Feste braced himself, muscles tense, mind desperate for a solution...
I have to last...
just a few more seconds...
I need to see how he moves, what he wants...
The final blow of this initial confrontation sent Feste sprawling to the ground, breath ripped from his lungs. Pain lanced through his chest and limbs. The killer loomed over him, every movement radiating control, danger and an energy that Feste instinctively recognized as beyond human.
I can't win like this...
I have to survive...
observe...
learn...
He pushed himself up, shaking bloodied, determined to endure.
The fight had only begun and he realized the path ahead would demand ounce of his awareness, instinct and resilience.
Feste stumbeld backward, pressing himself against the cracked wall of the alley. Pain lanced through his ribs, but his mind remained sharp, racing to make sense of the killer's movements.
I have to see the pattern... the way he moves, the timing... everything counts.
He scanned the narrow space around him.
A small puddle of water reflected the faint lamp light fell.
Feste crouched low, eyes fixed on the surface. The killer's reflection was distorted, but subtle differences in posture revealed intentions.
Slight shifts in balance, the angle of a foot, a tension in the shoulders.
He touched a smear of blood on the wall, noting its texture and direction.
He's right handed...
moves from the left to right...
anticipates my dodges...
His body acted before his mind could fully process, instinct guiding every motion.
Each movement he dodged, was recorded in his mind as data.
From the far end of the alley, he caught the faintest glimpse of a figure moving deliberately in the shadows.
Not thr killer and not a human in presence alone, but a controlled precision observation.
Shadows... watching, not intervening... yet.
Feste's pulse quickened.
This is more than a fight.
It's a test. And I have to pass.
Another blow landed, sending him sprawling to one knee.
This is...
it's too much...
I can't win
Feste's mind raced, scanning for any possible escape, any opening, any advantage but there was none.
The killer loomed above him, ready to finish the fight.
The, movement at the edge of the alley shifted, a figure stepping forward from the shadows,
calm,
deliberate,
radiating,
authority.
A huge old man.
His presence was immediate and commanding, as if the alley itself recognized him.
Without hesitation, the old man intercepted the killer's strike.
The force of the blow was redirected with effortless precision and the killer stumbled slightly, caught off-guard.
Feste watched, gasping, as the old man move fluid mastery. Every strike was calculated, controlled and lethal if necessary.
The killer, realizing the intervention, surged, with a renewed attack. But the old man was ready. In a swift sequence, he neutralized the killer, his movements precise, each strike exploiting weaknesses Feste could not have noticed. The alley echoed with the subtle force of their clash, but the old man's control was absolute.
Feste struggled to rise, battered, bruised, and breathing heavily. He looked at the old man and the now-now-subdued killer.
The old man turned his gaze toward Feste, his eyes piercing yet unreadable. No words were spoken, but the weight of judgment and observation was clear. Feste understood, in that instant, that passed some threshold, survived a trial.
The alley returned to silence.
The killer was neutralized, the old man's presence receding into the shadows. Feste's heart pounded as he struggled to steady himself, aware that what had just occurred was only the opening of a far larger game.
This isn't over...
Feste thought.