The factory's dust still hung heavy in the air, curling into my lungs like a bitter smoke, but my eyes weren't locked on the haze anymore. They were glued—utterly, irreparably—on the figure that had just descended from the heavens, or more accurately, through the ceiling like a cannonball fired by a drunken god.
I've seen many things in my short but dazzlingly unfortunate life. I've seen a priest drown himself in his own baptismal font while praising salvation. I've seen a noble's head pop like a melon under a carriage wheel, spraying his attendants with a mist fine enough to pass as perfume. I've even seen Salem eat Graywatch's street food without gagging. But nothing, and I mean nothing, had prepared me for the sight of a fully-grown man standing in a crater, completely nude.
He wasn't even ashamed about it. Not even a hint of modesty. He stood like nudity was his birthright, like the world should thank him for existing without trousers.
My brain short-circuited. My mouth moved before my reason caught up. "Oh gods above and below…" I whispered, half to myself, half to the cruel universe that had once again decided my dignity was optional. He's naked. He's naked and wearing a helmet. Who does that? Who wakes up in the morning and says, 'Yes, I'll wear my finest helmet and absolutely nothing else.'
The man lifted his head then, turning toward me with the kind of careless majesty that belongs only to lunatics and tyrants. And when he spoke, his voice was a warm, booming baritone that echoed against the rusted walls with all the subtlety of a festival announcer.
"Ah, beauties!" he declared, spreading his arms wide like some obscene prophet blessing his congregation. "Two radiant blossoms blooming in the wasteland of this dreary place! What fortune, what joy, what blessing the world bestows upon me today!"
Beauties. He had called us beauties. My jaw nearly unhinged.
Me, the beauty, standing here covered in soot, my clothes half-torn, oil stains on my boots, my lungs full of alchemical fog. And Nara, still sweating, still panting, still stark naked herself on the floor like some fever-dream accident of biology. This was his opening line? This was how he introduced himself to strangers?
I managed a strangled noise, halfway between a laugh and a plea for the gods to put me out of my misery. "Beauties," I repeated flatly, dragging the word out as though it might transform into something less absurd if I tasted it long enough. "Yes. That's… exactly what we are."
Nara blinked blearily, still half-feral from her possession, ears twitching, eyes glassy. She looked like she might start gnawing at the floorboards any second, which only made his words even more surreal.
The knight—or whatever kind of creature this was—beamed like I had just complimented him. But then he said something that snapped me out of my daze.
"What are you two doing here, hm? Strange, strange indeed. I was under the impression I had already wiped out this district."
The word hit me like a dagger sliding quietly under my ribs. Wiped out. Not "evacuated." Not "cleared." Wiped out. It was a phrase soaked in casual murder, the kind you only heard in war stories whispered around campfires by men who had seen far too much for comfort.
My stomach churned. My instincts flared. For all his carefree tone, for all the ridiculousness of his naked bravado, there was something dangerous beneath his words. Something cold.
I forced my voice steady, though the quiver of unease threatened to betray me. "Wiped out, you say? Funny word choice. Did you mean… politely asked everyone to leave? Or are we talking something a little more...final?"
His helmet tilted at me, tassel swaying, but his grin never faltered. "Details, details. You're far too tense, little flower. Relax, breathe, bask in the glory of the present moment! Life is short, joy is fleeting. Don't squander it with questions!"
"Questions keep me alive," I snapped back before I could stop myself. "Joy tends to get people killed."
He chuckled warmly, utterly unbothered. "Then you and I must be opposites. I live only for joy. And look at me—alive, well, radiant as the sun!"
Radiant, yes. And naked. Did I mention naked?
But then my eyes caught it, the one detail that confirmed what my gut already screamed. Strapped tightly around his arm, half-hidden beneath the glimmer of dust, was a band of yellow. Not decorative. Not ornamental. A rank.
A graduated mage of the knight class. The highest rank I'd encountered yet, signifying the sort of man Salem would take one look at before suggesting we turn and run until our lungs collapsed. And here he was, bare as dawn, flirting with me as if none of it mattered.
My throat went dry. My knees felt unsteady. I'd danced with killers, laughed in the faces of murderers, tangled with relic-bearers and survived. But this? This was different. This was the kind of man who could snuff me out without even bothering to learn my name.
Before I could react, the air stirred again.
The bunnies.
Dozens of them, tiny white shadows, shaking the dust off their fur as their little crimson eyes locked on the knight. They hissed as one, a chorus of hunger and rage, then surged forward like a tide of fluff and teeth.
"Look out!" I shouted before I could think, though some part of me knew it was pointless.
The knight didn't move. Not an inch. He crossed his arms over his sculpted chest like a schoolteacher observing children at play, utterly unbothered as the creatures hurled themselves at him.
I turned my head, eyes squeezing shut. I couldn't bear to watch it happen again. The sound alone — that wet, frantic chewing — clawed at my skull. I imagined his perfect flesh tearing, his voice descending into screams.
But no screams came.
Instead, there was laughter. Loud, joyous laughter, rolling through the factory like thunder.
I cracked one eye open.
The rabbits were chewing. Oh, they were chewing all right, gnawing with the kind of feral energy that had haunted me since their first appearance. But their teeth — gods above — their teeth weren't breaking skin.
They scraped, they worried, they clamped, but his flesh remained unmarked, unyielding. His pale skin shone unmarred beneath their fury, as though he were carved from some invincible stone.
He plucked one up by its scruff, holding it before his helmeted face with a delighted chuckle. "Oh, aren't you precious? Look at those little teeth, working so hard! Adorable, absolutely adorable. You're like a plush toy with rabies!" He kissed the air in its direction before setting it down gently, as if rewarding a kitten for scratching a sofa.
My stomach twisted into knots. Horror and confusion tangled together until my face must have been some grotesque painting of disbelief. How? How was he—?
The rabbits felt it too. One by one they faltered, their snarls fading into uncertainty, before scattering like dry leaves in the wind.
And then, before I could even process the movement, Nara lunged again. Still bare, still trembling with feral hunger, she bolted toward him with claws outstretched, a wild scream tearing from her throat.
The knight sighed. Yes, sighed. And then his hand blurred.
It was almost too fast to see—one impossibly swift motion, a casual chop to the side of her neck, and Nara crumpled. Just like that. From fury to unconsciousness, her body falling to the floor with a soft, humiliating thud.
The knight dusted his hands off, as if he had just swatted a fly, and turned back to me with that same infuriating cheer.
I collapsed to my knees. My breath rattled out of me in a shudder. I couldn't hold it back anymore—the fear, the awe, the absurdity. "Are you… are you going to kill me?" I whispered.
He tilted his head, tassel bobbing, and laughed. Not the cruel laugh of a predator savoring the moment before a kill, nor even the empty laugh of a lunatic. It was genuine mirth, loud and rich, spilling from the silver helm like sunlight pouring through shutters.
"Kill you? My dear, I would never kill a lady such as yourself. That would go against my code." He puffed his chest proudly, arms crossing again as though the proclamation itself were a sacred oath.
I stared. A beat passed. Then, with a groan, I dragged one palm down my face, covering my eyes because I could not physically handle this. "Of course," I muttered into my hand, the words muffled. "You're one of those."
Still, when I lowered my fingers, I found the edges of a smile tugging at my lips — weary, bitter, but there all the same. If playing the part of "lady" bought me survival, then fine, so be it. I nodded, shoulders straightening. "Naturally. A lady such as myself deserves only the finest courtesy."
He beamed, or at least I felt the beam radiating through the helmet. "Exactly! Finally, someone understands."
So began a strange truce, one stitched together by necessity and pretense. We spoke as though we were equals, though I knew full well he could have crushed me beneath a single palm if the whim took him.
He never offered his name, dodging it with a theatrical wave whenever I pressed, preferring instead to launch into digressions about the weather, the stars, or the proper method for roasting boar over open flame.
His voice never dipped from that airy, careless cheer, and I found myself trapped in an almost civil conversation with the very man who had casually confessed to slaughtering an entire district.
Eventually, I cleared my throat. "If you are such a gallant knight, might I request your guidance? I'm… a little lost. I need to reach the Canal District." My tone was polite, carefully framed to flatter his self-image.
He slapped his thigh with a bark of laughter, the sound reverberating like a hammer on steel. "The Canal District? For you, my beauty, I would walk the breadth of the empire itself! Anything you desire, I shall deliver. Lead you there? Why, I'll carry you there if you wish!"
I forced a breathy laugh, though it came out more like a wheeze. "That won't be necessary. Your company is enough." The words tasted absurd on my tongue, but I had learned long ago that survival meant bowing to theater when theater demanded an audience.
Our conversation twisted into logistics and tactic setting, yet even as we talked, even as I forced myself to nod and hum at his incessant chatter, my eyes betrayed me.
They wandered lower, again and again, drawn helplessly to the obvious. It was impossible not to notice — impossible not to see that which swung so freely with each step, a pendulum of unashamed masculinity. My mind screamed at me to look elsewhere, but my treacherous eyes lingered.
He noticed. Oh, saints, of course he noticed.
"My lady!" he sang out, tilting his helm toward me. "Do my wares interest you? I could make room in my harem for you, you know." His tone was playful, but the invitation landed like a thunderclap, sending my lungs into mutiny.
I choked, air catching in my throat so violently I nearly collapsed again. "Your—your what?" I sputtered, doubling over with a coughing fit.
"My harem, naturally!" He spread his arms wide, voice grand as though addressing an invisible audience. "Once I win the tournament, I'll purchase a grand estate and fill it with the most exquisite beauties from every corner of the realm. Men, women, beastfolk, perhaps even a spirit or two if the price is right. A rainbow of affection at my beck and call! Why, you'd fit splendidly among them, my lady."
I could feel my face heating, not from attraction but from the sheer mortification of his vision. "I—ah—well—how flattering," I stammered, forcing a tight smile while my inner monologue shrieked at me to stab myself in the eye just to escape this conversation. "But I must decline. My schedule, you see, is… rather full."
He paused, then laughed again, booming and careless, the kind of laugh that shook the walls loose of dust. "A full schedule! Ah, what a polite way to say no. I like you. You've got spunk."
I managed a strangled laugh in return, but inside my soul was crumbling into ash.
Without warning, he stooped down, scooping Nara's unconscious body from the floor as though she weighed nothing at all. Her limbs dangled, her ears flopping against his shoulder, still bare in her defeated slumber.
He slung her effortlessly, shifting her until she draped like a doll across his back. Then he gave her a little slap on the ass. "Can't leave her behind," he said cheerfully. "Too pretty to waste. Besides, maybe she'll come around to my charms when she wakes."a
I didn't respond. Instead, I quietly belted Nara's dagger at my side, the steel strangely comforting against my hip. The knight led us onward, steps light, tassel bobbing, as though he were a hero guiding a rescued damsel through a burned-out fairytale.
And for a few brief moments, peace settled. Strange, absurd, but peace nonetheless. The evening air pressed through the open gaps in the industrial ruins, cool against my sweat-damp skin. I let myself believe, however briefly, that we might make it to the Canal District on time, without any further interruptions.
Naturally, the universe disagreed.
Just then a shadow darted above us, a streak of movement that cut against the sky. The knight didn't notice, still humming some merry tune to himself, but I felt my heart plummet.
Then a figure dropped from the rooftop above, landing with the weight of thunder. The ground shuddered, cracks spidering out from his impact, and I stumbled back just in time to see the nightmare rise.
Stitched flesh. Twisted rage. The same grotesque man I had left broken and defeated before, now burning with life, his patchwork body trembling with fury, his gaze locked dead center on me.