Rose and I stood atop one of the containers, our silhouettes caught in the shimmer of moonlight. We'd just gotten our new outfits and damn, we looked clean! I was living the dream. Sure, the coat was plain, not really my style, but hey—humble beginnings. No need to rush. My long, dark coat caught the silver light as the wind pushed my hair just right. For a moment, it felt like the universe itself was directing the scene just for me.
Rose, on the other hand, looked like she'd stepped straight out of a noir film. Long-sleeved blazer draped over her shoulder, back heels, black jumpsuit pants, maroon shirt, black tie—a whole aesthetic package. Gloves, of course. And the umbrella? Absolute overkill. Her fashion sense was insane. She was obviously showing off, and I was low-key jealous. Full marks in character design… though it probably cost a fortune, so I'm deducting points. Still, I couldn't have asked for a better partner for my debut but she better tone it down. I refuse to be outshone in my own scene.
Rose then called me "boss," as if she'd accepted her role without question. Naturally, I rolled with it.
"Rose, from here on out, I will be known as Night Fallen, and you, my dear Rose, shall be the Black Rose—the Rose of Misfortune."
A smirk spread across her face. "As you wish, Sir Night Fallen." She stretched out her hands, and threads began to spill from her fingers. I knew that kind of technique all too well—mana threads, perfect for one such as The Black Rose.
"To be honest with you, Night Fallen," she said, voice steady, "I want revenge against the Church. But even I can't take them down alone… with you, a wielder of a Rogue mark, I know it's possible."
I thought to myself, she must be one of those characters with a deep backstory. My voice, cold and very practiced, cut through the air: "Black Rose… if you stare into the shadow of night, it will stare right back at you."
Black Rose looked perplexed, but honestly? I just wanted to sound profound. Then, with perfect timing, I free-fell onto the roof of the docks. One of the guys looked up, rifle at the ready. "Huh… what was that?!"
I jumped through the roof window, landing on bags of dust. All twenty—or twenty-five, roundabout—opened fire, rifles blazing on rapid fire. But I was already gone, blending into the darkness. When they realized they were just shooting at air, they stopped and muttered to each other.
"What the hell?! Who was that?!"
"Well, whoever or whatever it is, they're dead now. Nothing gets past these babies," one said, rubbing his gun confidently.
From the shadows, I flicked the bullet I'd caught straight into his head. Instant headshot. Blood leaked out as the others around him panicked and took aim. Only my voice followed in the darkness:
"Rejoice, for the dusk has chosen to fall upon you in this beautiful night."
They sank deeper into panic, searching frantically, voices trembling.
"Who the hell are you? Federation? Knights Association? If you're with the Church, we have authorization, so there's nothing to worry about!"
I smirked. They were playing their roles too well. "No," I said, keeping my voice deep and mysterious, "I am the enemy of the gods. I am the darkness. The dusk before the dawn. I am Night Fallen."
Their panic skyrocketed—it was priceless. I mentally gave myself a top score for that entrance. I ate that.
"Night Fallen…?" one whispered.
His head popped under the glow of my dark-blue eyes. The others were already entangled in Black Rose's threads. With a slight twitch of her fingers, the threads twisted and tore through most of them like minced meat, blood splattering everywhere.
The last one's leg got caught in her threads; she ripped it off, and I kicked him into the wall. I walked slowly toward him, the baseball bat resting across my shoulders.
The remaining five scrambled, firing wildly in panic. I appeared behind two of them. The baseball bat I'd shaped from pure mana slammed into their heads—pop, pop. One drew what looked like a compressed magical bomb, Black Rose's thread tightened around his neck, and yeah… that wasn't pretty. Another begged for his life, but my bat was already swinging for his temple, cracking it open with a sickening impact, blood spraying everywhere.
Since I got the handles on how to use magic it pretty simple, the very first weapon I forged was a simple
baseball bat. Yes a baseball bat.
The last villain tried to run, but Black Rose's mana string had already wrapped around his leg and sliced it clean off. He fell screaming, cursing, blood pooling beneath him.
"This, my friend, is a baseball bat."
I tapped it against my hand, blood dripping from the edge. The guy looked confused. Guess baseball doesn't exist here.
"Originally, this wasn't even a weapon—just some sport's equipment… but trust me, it works just as well as one." I paced up and down then brought the bat down on his knee joint. He screamed in agony.
"See? I told you. The weight, the mass itself, it's almost like it was designed for destruction. Number one choice of weapon for a guy from the streets, makes sense. It's very effective."
Then I struck his god-given orbs; his eyes rolled in agony, tears streaming down his face.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it can be used as a nutcracker too. Really, you just gotta love the baseball bat."
I rested it on my shoulder, looking at him with a smirk while he practically begged for his life. But I had to stick to the script.
"Yeah… sorry. I'm not the protagonist."
I imbued mana into the bat and swung. His head popped, blood splattering across my face, and when it was all done the room was painted red—splatters on the walls, thick pools spreading across the floor, fragments everywhere. Just a whole lot of red and a whole lot of broken, torn bodies.
"Disgusting. Gotta do much cleaner jobs next time."
The surprising part? I felt no remorse. Almost like I'd stopped being normal… or maybe I'd always been this sicko. After all… I yearned for this my whole life, didn't I?
Black Rose snapped me out of my meaningless contemplation, saying she sensed magic energy seeping from inside one of the containers. Of course, I walked over, my mana baseball bat forming in my hand as dark blue energy poured off it, a grin spreading across my face.
Without hesitation, I smashed the container, completely obliterating it in one swing. When the debris settled, all that remained was a massive metal orb sitting in the wreckage, most likely the thing sealing whatever was inside.
I struck it with full force, but it didn't budge. If anything, that just made me more excited. Now I was sure I'd wrapped myself in some deep shit.
Rose used her strings to step through the air, walking toward the object slowly and gracefully.
"Allow me, Sir Night Fallen. This was designed to withstand power such as yours, and if you were to break it—which I'm certain you could—you would destroy whatever is inside."
I realized Black Rose isn't just a pretty face with busted magic to boot but she's got a good brain up there too.
Though honestly… I couldn't break that thing at full power. I already tried. But there's no way I'm telling her that.
She traced her fingers along the orb, and it reacted immediately, its surface rippling through shifting colors as faint mana threads seeped from her fingertips and spread across it like living veins. They crawled, intertwined, tightened, digging into the structure of the spell itself. If I had to guess, she wasn't forcing it open but unraveling it, thread by thread, deconstructing the orb's magic with her own… or something like that.
The orb finally creaked open, a hiss of smoke curling from its seams. Slowly, it widened, and a blinding white light shimmered outward, too bright to look at directly. And then… it revealed itself.