The market square was empty now, silence hanging thick like smoke after a fire. Rayon stood in the center, Hollow Strings trailing lazily from his fingertips, weaving in the air like restless serpents only he could see. The faint torchlight flickered against his black eyes, glinting with anticipation.
He could feel them circling him. Four Hunters. Seasoned killers. Their steps had the rhythm of predators who'd danced with death before.
The broad one with the glaive, scar carved into his cheek, took a step forward. His voice was like iron scraping stone.
"By decree of the Association—"
"Save the sermon," Rayon cut in, smirking. "I'm already bored."
The glaive-user's grip tightened, but before he could move, a voice snapped from behind him.
"Stop."
It was the silver-haired woman who'd flanked him earlier. Her eyes were sharp, but her stance was measured, cautious. She raised her hand toward her comrades.
"Pull back. Orders just came from the Association. We're not to engage."
Rayon tilted his head, amused. "Oh? Did Daddy Kaelstrom tell you to play it safe? How cute."
The woman ignored his taunt, turning to the others. "He wants us to watch, study him. That's the command. If we fight now, we risk losing more than we gain."
Two of the Hunters lowered their weapons reluctantly. Their expressions soured, but their discipline held.
Except one.
The glaive-wielder—the one with the scar—snarled. His pride was bleeding just standing there, being told to walk away from a boy who mocked him openly. He spat on the cobblestones, eyes narrowing into slits.
"You cowards can run," he growled, voice thick with contempt. "But I didn't join the Association to watch Forsaken spit on our name. This one dies tonight."
He twirled his glaive, the blade cutting a crescent in the air, then leveled it at Rayon. "No boy from the gutter makes a mockery of us. Not while I still breathe."
Rayon's smile stretched wider, teeth flashing under the firelight. He didn't even move from his relaxed stance.
"Oh, I like you," he said softly, voice dripping with mockery. "Prideful. Predictable. Easy to break."
The cautious woman hissed. "Daren, stand down! That's an order!"
But Daren didn't listen. His aura flared, heavy and suffocating, as he lunged forward with a roar, glaive cutting down like a guillotine aimed for Rayon's throat.
And Rayon's Hollow Strings snapped to life.
Invisible threads shimmered faintly in the torchlight, slicing the air with precision. His body swayed back, movements fluid, as if he already knew every angle of the attack. His hand shot up, and the strings coiled around the glaive's shaft mid-swing, halting it just inches from his neck.
The sound of tension hummed through the square.
Rayon leaned forward, black hollow eyes locking onto Daren's. His grin was wicked, almost hungry.
"You should've listened to your friends."
The other Hunters froze, caught between their orders and the prideful fool who'd just doomed himself. The air was electric, a heartbeat away from shattering into violence.