One year had passed since Nox had slipped from the Church's grasp.
Gravemire stank of fish, smoke, and wet stone.Nox walked through the alleyways, barefoot, coat damp from rain. His face was pale, scarred, and weary. To anyone passing, he looked like a blind, starving man, wandering without purpose.
But he wasn't wandering.
He had a job.
A noble's brat had insulted the wrong guild. Nox didn't know the details, and he didn't care. Payment was enough to eat for a week, and for now, that was all that mattered.
He reached the marketplace, weaving between puddles and carts with slow, careful steps. People glanced at him—some curious, some wary—but none dared approach.
"Watch yourself," he muttered to the air, voice low. The carts and footsteps spoke more than sight ever could.
Ahead, two men blocked the alley exit. Local thugs, petty enough for anyone else, but not for him.
"Hey, blind boy," one sneered, swinging a club. "You lost or something?"
Nox didn't flinch.He didn't need to.
A faint vibration in the ground, the hiss of their breath, the shifting of weight—he sensed all of it.Without moving his head, without looking, he stepped forward.The club swung past him as if it had hit… nothing.
"Lucky, huh?" the thug spat, charging.
Nox's hand brushed the air once. The thug stumbled, frozen for a heartbeat he couldn't explain. The ground beneath him shifted just enough, the alley tilting in a subtle rhythm. He fell.
The second thug screamed, lunged, and Nox sidestepped, grabbing a discarded pipe. He swung once, with no force at all, but enough to knock the man unconscious.
Neither of them understood what had happened.Neither of them had seen him move.
Nox exhaled, brushing rain from his coat. He did not pause to watch them.He moved forward, collecting the boy the guild had wanted retrieved.He did not speak, did not shout. Only walked.And yet the city seemed to part around him, as if it knew the weight of his presence, even blind.
Passing a puddle, he felt the vibration of more footsteps—someone following. Nox didn't turn.He didn't need to.The rhythm of their steps told him everything.
He smiled faintly.Still rusty, he thought.But he had survived far worse than this.
For now, he was just a blind man walking through Gravemire, collecting a contract, invisible and unremarkable to anyone who didn't know the truth:Beneath the frail body, behind the blind eyes, a being had grown in the dark, enduring horrors no mortal could imagine.And one day… that being would awaken.
But today… today was just another job.