One week... it has to be one week. "Seven days of silence" before he strikes again.
The woman's body was taken away, yet the blood-written riddle lingered in Feste's mind long after they returned back. He sat in silence, replaying the words over and over.
Count the days of silence and you will find my stage
Seven days. That was his guess. A week of stillness before the next storm.
Across the room, Spear and the others argued in hushed voices.
Strategy.
Patrol routes.
Defensive positions.
Feste barely heard them. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Something flickered inside him. A subtle pulse beneath his skin, faint but real. His breath caught, and for a moment the room sharpened, the sounds clearer, the torches brighter, the tension the others almost visible.
"What... was that?"
He whispered to himself.
The pulse vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only emptiness. His chest felt heavier, like he had been close to grasping something but lost it at the final second.
Derrick noticed him staring blankly.
"You alright, kid?"
Feste blinked. I... I think I felt something just for a moment."
Spear's sharp gaze cut across the room.
"Qi."
"You're beginning to brush against it," Spear explained, his voice low but steady.
"Not mastering it, not even touching it fully, but your body is trying. It's like smoke slipping through your fingers. Don't chase it yet. Let it come to you."
Feste exhaled, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified.
So I wasn't imagining it...
The following days blurred together in exhaustion. Patrols at night, study during the day, endless attempts to reach that flicker again.
Slowly, painfully, Feste began to sense more. The faint traces of Qi in Derrick when he walked. The steady, powerful waves radiating from Spear. Even the subtle sparks in the air when emotions ran high among the others.
It wasn't clear. It wasn't stable. But it was there.
And with every heartbeat, his awareness grew sharper.
At the evening, the group gathered around the riddle again. Maps spread on the table, candles flickering.
"Count the days of silence," Derrick muttered, tapping his scar. "Seven days. That puts us here." He circled a date on the parchment.
Spear folded his arms. "If that's the case then we have less than a week to prepare. He's not just announcing his crime, he's daring us to stop him."
Feste leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"And he will."
His voice held a conviction he hadn't felt before. Not because he believed victory was certain, but because he could finally sense the storm it arrived.
For the first time, Feste wasn't blind.
The parchment lay at the center of the table, the riddle written in crimson across its surface:
"Count the days of silence and you will find my stage."
The room was still, save for the flicker of candle flames. Derrick leaned forward, his scar catching the light and jabbed his finger at the ink circle he had drawn.
"Seven days. That's how long he's giving us. After that, he'll strike again."
Feste stared at the words, lips pressed thin. Seven days of silence... but silence for who? For him? For us? Or the city itself?
His thoughts tangled, until a sharper realization cut through.
No... it's silence after the scream.
He slammed his palm against the table.
"The countdown started the moment she died. He's not talking about random days, hes marking his kills like a twisted calendar."
The others truned to him, some doubtful, some curious.
Spear's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Feste swallowed, forcing his voice steady.
"The first woman. The silence began with her death. Seven days from then, he kills again. That's the pattern. He isn't warning us, he's bragging that we can't stop him in time."
For a moment, only the sound of crackling wax filled the air. Then Derrick muttered, "Damn... it fits. The timeline, the message. It's all there."
Spear nodded slowly. "Then we know our window.
Seven days. No more."
Seven days. That's all.
Feste's chest tightened. But if I can't even grasp Qi properly by then... will I be able to face him?
The flicker stirred again in his core, faint, teasing, like a heartbeat just out of rhythm.
He closed his eyes, willing it closer, trying to anchor himself in that strange awareness.
For a brief instant, the room shifted, their Qi like lanterns in a fog. Derrick's presence burned hot, rash, restless. Spear's aura pulsed steady and weighty, like an immovable mountain.
Feste's eyes snapped open, breath uneven.
I can feel them
He kept silent, not wanting to draw attention, but inside his mind, a storm raged.
Derrick broke the silence, pushing his chair back. "Then it's settled. Feste and I take the next patrol shift. If he thinks he can toy with us, let's prove him wrong."
Feste lips curled into a thin line. "Fine by me."
Spear gaze lingered on him for a long moment, unreadable. Then he gave a single nod. "Don't let your guard down. The closer you get to him, the more dangerous this game becomes."
Feste clenched his fists beneath the table.
Good. Let it be dangerous. I'll find him. I swear I will
The plan was set.
The days of silence were counting down.
And Feste was no longer blind.
Night had swallowed the city whole. Fog clung to the cobblestones, thick and heavy, as Feste and Derrick moved silently through the alleys. Their boots echoed faintly, a steady rhythm in the oppressive dark.
"Stay close," Derrick muttered. "He's unpredictable, but he leaves traces. Always does."
Feste nodded, every nerve alert.
I can feel it now... a faint pulse in the air, like a something breathing over the streets. The Ripper's Qi... or is it mine? No, it's him. Somewhere nearby.
The wind shifted, carrying a scream that tore through the night like broken glass.
Both men ran instantly, leaping over crates and dodging puddles that reflected the torchlight. Feste's pulse thumped, every fiber of his being straining toward the sound. But when they rounded the corner, it was already too late.
A woman lay sprawled against the wall, her lifeless eyes staring at the moon. The streets were empty, shadows stretching unnaturally around her.
Feste's stomach churned.
Horror.
Why can't we stop him?
Then he noticed it.
A message smeared across the wall in thick, crimson letters.
Blood, fresh.
Calculated.
Deliberate.
"Count the days and watch them tremble. One week and all will fall."
Derrick's jaw tightened.
"The bastard leaving us a timetable...
a warning and a taunt."
Feste eyes scanned the wall, every letter like a heartbeat of the killer.
One week... seven days. Seven days from this night. That's when he strikes again. And he's marking it for all of us. But this time...
The faint stirrings of Qi inside him pulsed stronger, reacting to Derrick's presence, to the tension in the air and perhaps, just perhaps to the killer's energy lingering in the.
They returned back, soaked and silent. The group gathered immediately around the riddle, pouring over every detail. Feste's vision seemed sharper than before. He could feel Derrick's restlessness, Spear's calm weight and now, something, a faint but distinct vibration, pulsing somewhere beyond the walls of the city.
"Seven days," he muttered aloud. "That's all the time we have. The Ripper is telling us exactly when he will strike."
Feste nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his chest.
I've felt Qi and it's growing... but will It be enough to face him?
The team began coordinating patrols, timing shifts and mapping possible attack points. Feste watched the map, his eyes tracing the streets where shadows could hide, where screams could pierce the night.
Inside, a strange calm settled. His pulse aligned with the subtle currents of Qi, both in his allies and, faintly, in the unseen predator stalking the city.
I can sense it now.
Not fully... not yet.
But I will.
One week.
Seven days.
And I will be ready.
The following days were a blur of patrols, study and sleepless nights. Feste moved through the streets with Derrick at his side, every shadow, every whisper, every faint tremor of the city becoming more vivid to him.
It's like the air itself is alive, he thought virbrating with intentions, with life, with... Qi.
At first, it had been subtle, a faint pulse when Spear passed, a flicker when Derrick shifted his weight. But now, it became clearer. He could sense the flow of Qi.
During a patrol, he paused mid-step, sensing something cold and sharp from an alleyway nearby. Derrick froze beside him.
"You feel that?" Derrick asked quietly.
Feste nodded. "Yes. Someone... or something. Nearby. Waiting."
The pulse vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving a tense silence. But Feste felt different.
Stronger.
Sharper.
The air itself seemed to bend slightly toward him, responding to his perception.
Back, the group gathered around the blood-riddle again. Feste's eyes traced the letters, but this time, his mind worked differently. His Qi stirred, weaving with the emotions of the others, the tension of the room and the lingering traces of the Ripper's energy.
Count the days of silence and you will find my stage.
He spoke aloud, more to himself than anyone else "It's not just counting days... he's leaving a pattern in his actions. The first victim... seven days later... the second. That's why he wrote the message."
Derrick's eyes widened. "Wait... that would put him... yes. The aligns with the timeline."
Spear leaned forward. "Go on."
Feste's fingers traced the letters on the parchment as if reading the blood through his fingertips. The faint pulse of the Ripper's Qi, now intertwined with his own perception, guided him.
"He wants us to notice.
He wants to challenge us.
The date he strikes is embedded in the sequence of his. One week from the last murder, exactly seven days. And the location... the choice of alleyways, the pattern of streets, it's a signature. He's telling us where and when."
Spear's eyes narrowed, a shadow of a rare smile crossing his face. "Then you've cr
acked it."
The others glanced at him, a mix of awe and unease in their expressions. Even Derrick said, merely nodding sharply.
It feels different now Feste thought.
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their discovery settling over them. Then Spear spoke, voice low but commanding "Prepare for the next patrol. Every shift counts. You know what to look for. He's out there and now we know when he will strike again."
Feste's eyes glimmered with determination. The faint pulses of Qi dancing beneath his skin seemed to echo his heartbeat.
The riddle was no longer a mystery. It was a countdown. And for the first time, Feste felt like he could step into the storm, not blind, not helpless, but aware.
The night had thickened, the fog curling along the alleys like restless spirits. Feste and Derrick moved carefully, boots silenty eyes scanning every shadow. Each step felt heavier than the last, the pulse of the city syncing with the faint Qi thrumming beneath Feste's skin.
The silence was shattered by a scream, piercing and raw, echoing off the stone walls. Feste's heart leapt. Derrick bolted forward without a word and Feste followed instinctively, the Qi inside him reacting, tugging him toward the danger.
They reached the corner too late. The street was empty except for the lifeless body of a woman sprawled against the wall. Her eyes stared blankly at the moon, mouth frozen in a silent scream.
They noticed it, a message scrawled across the wall in thick, red blood, deliberate and taunting.
"I observe you all."
Derrick's eyes narrowed.
"He knows we're watching. And he's teasing us."
Feste's pulse quickened. The Qi inside him flared faintly, tugging toward the energy left behind. He could sense the echo of killer's presence, the faint ripples in the air, subtle but unmistakable.
Back, and the team convened.
Spear's eyes met hisy approving but heavy with the weight of command. "Prepare yourselves. Every moment counts. He's out there and now we know when he strikes again."
Somewhere, just beyond the city's edge, a shadow lingered, watching, smiling and counting down the days.