The sword shimmered beside him, its curved edge pulsing faintly with a dormant glow. The lantern at his hip vibrated—just slightly—but enough to remind him: he was no longer just Noah Cain. He was the a bearer now. Whether he wanted to be or not.
He stepped away from the crowd forming around the public display, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. The broadcast still blared behind him, now echoing with frantic voices, warnings, and emergency response codes. But Noah didn't need to hear the details. He had seen enough. The creature was towering—seven stories of sinewed shadow, its body a jagged amalgamation of writhing limbs and glistening, obsidian-black armor. It roared, and even through the screen, the tremor of its voice had made his bones shudder.
That street… it was three blocks from the library. The place he used to get coffee. Where he had once helped a little girl find her lost cat. Where life had felt normal, even if only for a moment. Now that normalcy was cracking under the weight of something ancient and terrible.
He tightened his grip on the sword, its hilt feeling somewhat familiar in his hands.
"I have to do this," he muttered.
He didn't wait for permission. Didn't wait for the city's defense systems to engage. He simply broke into a run. The sword floated behind him matching his pace, and the lantern's subtle glow began to intensify with every step.
The streets changed as he moved—citizens fleeing, transport systems freezing in place, drones rerouting. Sirens wailed, not chaotic, but systematic. The city had protocols for this. It had adapted. But this time, the protocols wouldn't be enough.
This time, the bearer had returned.
Noah reached the street as the monster finished uprooting a massive traffic tower, flinging it into a building with a crackling explosion. Dust and debris flooded the air. The sky above darkened as if the monster carried its own storm. Noah cut through the debris that fell on top of him.
It turned toward him, sensing something. Someone. A presence not like the others.
Noah stopped in the middle of the cracked asphalt. His heart hammered in his chest like it wanted to escape. He forced a breath into his lungs and tightened his grips on the sword. The lantern unlatched from his side, floating into the air.
Light spilled from its center—not just illumination, but essence.
Noah didn't know any techniques. No prayers. No chants. No practiced battle strategy like the other bearers on the broadcasts. But he had something deeper: the will to stand.
He whispered under his breath, uncertain whether he was praying or begging, "Let this be enough."
The monster shrieked and charged.
Before it could reach him, a burst of blue light shot from above, striking the creature's side and halting its advance.
Noah blinked. Someone had landed beside him, cracking the pavement slightly. A young woman—his age, maybe younger—with short, braided hair and a crescent-shaped emblem glowing over her palm.
"You really were going to fight that thing alone?" she asked, slightly breathless but calm.
Noah stared at her. "I was going to, thank god you came"
She tilted her head, looking him over. "You're new. Fresh Bearer?"
He gave a hesitant nod. "Noah. Cain."
"Amara Qalib," she said with a soft grin. "Bearer of the Crescent Repository."
He blinked. "You were on the news…"
"Yeah, they love broadcasting our every move. Looks cooler than it feels," she said. "You ready?"
"I honestly have no clue."
She glanced at the lantern and the sword. "Doesn't matter. Those chose you. Just don't freeze."
The monster roared again, raising one of its massive claws.
Noah stepped forward, shaking. "I'll follow your lead."
Amara smirked. "Nah. We improvise. On three. One—"
The monster lunged.
"—Three!"
They split in opposite directions. Noah held the sword close to his side making sure to always keep his guard up.
"Go for the knees!" she shouted. "Their shadow is less thick there"
He didn't ask how she knew. He just ran. The lantern flared again, glyphs spinning outward. The sword became heavier—no, denser—as if aligning with some unspoken law. He ducked under one of the monster's sweeping limbs and drove the blade into its leg.
It screamed, and black ichor sprayed. Amara followed with a searing blast of moonlight, blinding the creature momentarily.
"You're doing great!" she called out, leaping beside him. "Now let's see if we can drop it."
Noah exhaled sharply. "Together?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Together."
They moved in perfect rhythm—not through training, but through instinct. The lantern's light linked to Amara's crescent glyphs, magnifying them. The sword carved radiant wounds that glowed, refusing to close.
And then, with a shout, the two bearers struck simultaneously—her shield flaring outward in a concussive blast as Noah brought the sword down in a powerful vertical arc.
CRACK.
The monster split down the center, swallowed by a rising column of light. Its body twisted, tried to hold form—but the combined relics denied its reality. With one last wail, it dispersed into mist.
Silence.
Noah fell to the ground, sitting and gasping for air. The sword returned to floating at his side. The lantern dimmed.
Amara knelt beside him. "You did good. Real good."
He looked up at her. "What the hell even are those things?"
"Follow me I'll take you to the others and there we will tell you what these things are" she said looking around "there already seems to be a crowd forming, lets go before the media starts to record."