The city was too quiet.
Ethan knew the silence wasn't mercy—it was the sound of knives hidden in the dark.
Three days had passed since the burning of the docks, and though the Syndicate's presence seemed to have vanished, Ethan felt it everywhere. The crowded markets moved with uneasy rhythm. Shadows lingered too long in alleyways. Faces turned too quickly when he passed.
It was the stillness before a predator struck.
Ambush in the Alley
Ethan moved cautiously through an abandoned side street, Marcus at his back and two survivors trailing close. They were scouting for supplies, but his gut screamed trap.
And then it came.
A whisper of steel.
Ethan shoved Marcus aside just as a dagger hissed out of the darkness, embedding itself in the wall where Marcus's throat had been.
Figures melted from the shadows, black-cloaked assassins with masks carved like grinning skulls.
"Blades," Ethan hissed.
The assassins didn't speak. They lunged.
Ethan's dagger clashed with a curved blade, sparks lighting the dark. He ducked, twisted, slammed his elbow into an attacker's chest, then drove steel into exposed flesh.
Marcus bellowed, shield raised as two Blades hammered at him with precise, vicious strikes. One survivor screamed as a knife opened his throat, and his body crumpled like a puppet cut loose.
The air smelled of iron.
Ethan's system flickered:
[Combat Detected: Syndicate Blade Operatives]
[Warning: High-Risk Encounter]
[Passive Triggered: Oathbound Resolve – Strength +15%, Willpower +20%]
Power surged through him. His dagger moved like lightning, parrying and ripping into flesh. For every strike he blocked, he countered with fury born of his vow.
But there were too many.
A blade nicked his cheek, warm blood streaking down his jaw. Another sliced his arm. He gritted his teeth, refusing to fall.
Marcus roared, smashing one assassin's skull against a wall, but more shadows replaced the dead.
"This isn't a fight," Ethan realized. "It's a hunt."
The Shadowmaster Appears
From the rooftop, a slow clap echoed.
A tall figure emerged, cloaked in deep crimson. His mask was carved obsidian, featureless but for a narrow slit where eyes glowed faintly red.
The Blades froze mid-strike and fell back, forming a circle around Ethan and Marcus.
The figure's voice was like silk dragged across steel.
"Ethan Cross."
Ethan tightened his grip on his dagger. "Another dog of the Syndicate?"
"Not a dog," the figure corrected. "The Blade's Shadow. I am sent where others fail. You killed my brothers at the docks. Burned our sanctuaries. You made an oath against us." He tilted his head. "Now I've made one against you."
The system chimed:
[Alert: Enemy Oath Detected – The Shadow has sworn vengeance against you. Expect escalated danger until one of you dies.]
Ethan felt the words burn into his bones. Another mirror, another echo. His vow had been answered by its opposite.
The Duel in the Dark
The Shadow moved. Faster than Ethan had thought possible.
A blur of crimson steel slashed at his throat. Ethan barely blocked, sparks showering. The force rattled his bones, sent him staggering back.
He countered with a thrust aimed at the ribs, but the Shadow twisted, his cloak flowing like smoke, and Ethan's blade cut only air.
Every strike the Shadow made was precise, calculated—not a wasted motion. He wasn't here to fight. He was here to kill.
Marcus tried to intervene, raising his shield, but the Shadow spun and with one slash carved through the iron as though it were cloth. Marcus was thrown back, blood spraying.
"Marcus!" Ethan shouted, rage burning.
The system pulsed:
[Critical State Detected – Oathbound Resolve Intensifying]
[Temporary Boost: Speed +20%, Perception +15%]
The world sharpened. He could see the arc of the Shadow's blade, the faint twitch of his wrist before a strike.
He ducked low, rolled under a swing, and slashed upward. His dagger grazed the Shadow's mask, carving a shallow line.
The Shadow paused. For the first time, a faint hiss escaped him—half irritation, half acknowledgment.
"You adapt quickly," the assassin murmured. "Perhaps you are worth the full measure of my art."
The Escape
The Blades tightened their circle. More knives flashed. Ethan realized the truth: they weren't here to test him. They were here to wear him down, to cut until nothing remained.
And if he stayed, he would die.
"Marcus, move!" Ethan barked.
He grabbed his friend's arm, hauled him up despite his wounds. They crashed through the line of assassins, blades slicing at them from every angle. Ethan's dagger carved a path, blood spattering his face and hands.
An arrow whistled past, striking one assassin through the eye. Another arrow. Then another.
From a rooftop, Aria appeared, pale but alive, a bow in her trembling hands.
"Go!" she shouted.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He dragged Marcus into the alley's mouth, sprinting into the labyrinth of streets as arrows rained to cover their retreat.
Behind them, the Shadow's voice followed, calm, cold, inevitable.
"You can run, Ethan Cross. But the Blade's Shadow never misses his prey."
The Aftermath
They collapsed in an abandoned tavern, Marcus bleeding heavily. Aria staggered in minutes later, dropping her bow and nearly fainting from exhaustion.
Ethan's hands shook as he bound Marcus's wound, his dagger still slick with Syndicate blood.
The system flickered again:
[Survival Event Complete: Escape the Blade's Hunt]
[Reward: +2 Levels | Current Level: 23]
[Skill Unlock: Shadow Sense – Briefly detect hidden enemies nearby.]
The glow faded. Ethan sat back, staring at his hands. His vow had given him strength, but the Shadow's vow bound him just as tightly.
It wasn't a question of if they would face each other again.
It was a question of when.
And next time, only one oath would stand.