The western district of Alexandria was drowning in fire and fear.
Shops that had once bustled with laughter and trade now smoldered, their timber frames collapsing in showers of sparks. The streets echoed with the clash of swords and the shrieks of monsters, the cries of mothers clutching children, the desperate orders of soldiers straining to hold their lines.
The moon was hidden behind smoke, its pale light replaced by the orange-red glow of burning rooftops. Every shadow seemed alive, every alleyway ready to spill forth another horror.
Among the panic, a woman dragged her young son through the chaos. Her armor was no more than a simple leather vest—she was no soldier, just a baker's widow who had lost her way when the monsters came. The boy stumbled, clutching a wooden toy sword to his chest, his cheeks streaked with ash and tears.
"Mama, I'm scared," he sobbed.
"I know, Roul, I know," she gasped, pulling him toward the western gates. "Just keep running—"
A roar cut her off. From the flames ahead, a beast emerged, larger than a horse, its claws raking sparks from the cobblestones. Its eyes burned red as it stalked toward them.
The woman froze, pulling her boy tight against her. The soldiers were too far behind, locked in combat. There was nowhere left to flee.
Not here. Not like this.
---
Light shimmered.
In a flash, a figure appeared between them and the monster—tall, dark-haired, his coat whipping in the hot wind. In one hand, a blade gleamed with otherworldly steel. He hadn't run forward; he had simply arrived, as if the shadows themselves had carried him.
The woman's breath caught. The boy's sobs ceased, his eyes widening in awe.
The monster lunged. The stranger vanished in a blur of blue light—then reappeared above the beast, his blade descending like a comet. With a sickening crack, the creature collapsed, split open in one clean strike.
The stranger landed lightly, his weapon dissolving into motes of light before another appeared in his hand, as natural as drawing breath. He turned, his eyes glowing faintly in the firelight.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was calm, quiet, but unshakably firm.
The mother shook her head mutely.
"Good. Keep moving. Head west, toward the gate. I'll clear the path."
---
Before she could even thank him, he vanished again, streaking into another cluster of monsters down the street.
The boy gasped, tugging at his mother's sleeve. "Mama! Did you see? He flew!"
"No," she whispered, clutching him close as she obeyed the stranger's command. "…He saved us."
---
All around, others saw him. Soldiers struggling to hold their shield wall caught glimpses of the stranger warping from rooftop to street, his blades materializing in flashes of steel and vanishing again.
One soldier gaped, blood dripping from a cut on her cheek. "By the Queen… he moves like lightning…"
Another, her shield dented and sword broken, whispered, "No—faster than lightning. Like a shadow."
The whispers spread through the defenders. In the midst of fire and blood, a new figure had appeared, weaving between the monsters with impossible speed.
---
For Noctis, every warp cut through his strength. Sweat dripped down his brow, his lungs burned, but he forced himself forward. The trinket at his side pulsed faintly, Sirius's silent encouragement thrumming within.
These people are counting on me. I can't let them fall.
A pack of beasts closed in on a cluster of civilians huddled against a wall. Noctis warped, a spear flashing into his grip as he appeared above them. He hurled it down with brutal precision, impaling the lead creature before warping again to retrieve it and strike another.
"Run!" he barked, his tone sharp but commanding. The women clutched their children and obeyed, sprinting toward the gates as soldiers formed around them.
---
From the crowd, awe began to bloom.
"He's clearing the way!"
"Follow him—he's leading us out!"
"Who is he…?"
Noctis said nothing, his focus on the monsters. He conjured blade after blade, his armory flashing in and out of existence like shards of starlight. Each warp ended in a decisive strike, his movements a dance of shadow and steel.
---
The mother and boy followed in his wake. Each time fear threatened to stop her feet, she saw him again—warping high into the air, cleaving a beast in two, or standing firm as his conjured greatsword split the cobblestones with its weight.
The boy's eyes shone through his tears. "Mama… I want to be like him someday."
Her chest tightened, but she smiled through the smoke. "Then remember this night, Roul. Remember what it means to protect others."
---
A soldier, her shield split in two, dropped to her knees before a snarling beast. She raised her arms in futile defense—then, in a blink, Noctis warped between them. His blade clashed with claw, sparks flying. He shoved the monster back, finishing it with a ruthless slash.
The soldier gasped, staring at him. He didn't even look at her, only said, "On your feet. Help them."
Something in his tone—calm, commanding—lit a fire in her chest. She scrambled up, gripping a broken sword with renewed strength.
Around her, other female warriors echoed the same resolve. "Stand with him! Hold the line!"
---
But the monsters were endless. From the western alleys poured larger fiends, their roars drowning even Bahamut's wings above. The civilians screamed, shields faltered, and for a moment it seemed the tide would break through.
Noctis narrowed his eyes, teeth gritting. Not here. Not now.
He warped high into the night sky, a greatsword materializing in his hands. Time seemed to pause as he hovered, framed by the burning city and Bahamut's shadow. Then he plummeted, his blade slamming into the ground with cataclysmic force.
The shockwave ripped through the street, hurling monsters aside. Fire and ash billowed outward.
When the smoke cleared, he stood tall amid the wreckage, his weapon dissolving into sparks.
The people stared, their fear replaced with awe.
---
An elderly woman, tears streaking her soot-covered face, whispered, "I thought the gods had abandoned us… but maybe…"
The soldier beside her shook her head, eyes fixed on the young man in the firelight. "Not the gods. Him."
---
The people began to move again, guided by his presence. Soldiers tightened their formation, their shields locking with new purpose. Civilians clutched each other and fled toward the gates, stealing glances at the stranger who fought for them.
And in hushed voices, whispers began to spread through the night:
"The prince of shadows…"
"The warrior who moved like light…"
"The stranger who led us out."
---
High above, on the hidden deck of the Aetherveil, Sirius observed, arms folded. His eyes followed Noctis's thread as it pulsed brighter, each warp a spark of defiance against despair.
"He carries the weight of kingship even here," Sirius murmured. "But tonight, the people see not a king… but their savior."
---
And so, in the western district of Alexandria, as fire devoured the night and Bahamut loomed above, hope lived on—not in the walls or the shields of the kingdom, but in the shadow of a single stranger who refused to let the darkness win.
Noctis Lucis Caelum—the prince of shadows.