The night was heavy in Prague.
The cathedral bells had long since fallen silent. Snow floated from above like ghosts returning to Earth. Not a soul moved through the plaza below—yet the city felt watched.
Kiaan stood still on the rooftop.
He was a man born to battle monsters.
But now, for the first time in years, he wasn't sure who the monster was.
---
A shift.
He felt it—not with his eyes, but with his soul.
Something entered his layer of reality.
A presence so precise, so sharp, that it didn't even ripple the air.
A comic summon.
---
Meanwhile – Rudra's Room, Earth
Rudra sat cross-legged, floating one inch off the floor, the Zix Core pulsing in deep purple. The digital map of the Earth hovered in front of him, with a single red dot glowing in Prague.
He whispered:
> "Begin trial operation: Silent Thread Protocol."
The Core answered.
> [Assassin-Type Summon Deployed]
[Codename: Umbrafang – Issue #019]
> Type: Shadow Assassin / Sentient Ink Construct
Traits: Silence Field, Memory Blackout, Curse-Stitch Dagger, Blink-Step, Soul Burn Extraction
Goal: Observe, Measure, Test, Abort If Necessary
---
Kiaan – Prague Rooftop
A slight whisper to his left.
He turned—
Too late.
A blade grazed his throat.
Only grazed—but enough to make him blink.
When his eyes opened, three seconds of time were missing.
He immediately activated Soul Recall.
> Memory Thread Reconstructing…
Failure.
Cause: Narrative Blockage – Source Unknown.
Kiaan growled. "You're not a normal summon…"
A voice answered—not aloud, but from inside his spine.
> "I am a comic's regret. A panel left unfinished. A whisper from the bleed between pages."
He turned fast, unleashing a burst of spatial energy—but again, nothing.
Then—
Pain bloomed behind his rib.
Umbrafang's dagger slid in, then out.
And again, time vanished.
---
Inside Umbrafang's Mind – Narration Layer Active
> The man is strong.
His soul is old.
His mind is trained.
But he still reads time like a book.
And I…
…am not on a page he knows.
---
Kiaan slammed both palms into the ground.
> "Bind: World Anchor!"
An ancient glyph spread from beneath him—a chain forged from his personal domain, latching reality in place.
Time manipulation—nullified.
Space warping—blocked.
And there… finally… he saw it.
A shape. Dripping with black ink. Wearing bandages like war-torn scripture. Eyes hollow. Dagger pulsing with shadow light.
Kiaan whispered, "…What are you?"
Umbrafang tilted his head.
> "The proof that your world is ending."
And lunged.
---
Battle Commences
Kiaan's body blurred forward, his fists crackling with divine ki. Umbrafang ducked, vanished, reappeared behind him—then faded again before the elbow strike landed.
But now Kiaan understood: This wasn't a summoner's pet. This was a system-born specter of narrative violence.
He dropped into a full stance.
> "I don't know who you serve—but I'm not impressed by toys."
Umbrafang paused.
Then slowly raised his dagger and pressed it to his own neck.
The blade slipped in.
His body split apart—then multiplied.
> Skill: Split Panel Illusion – Activated.
> Creates false echo bodies within belief-affected areas.
Kiaan was suddenly surrounded by twelve Umbrafangs.
Each with the same aura.
Each pulsing with killing intent.
---
Back to Rudra
He watched the live combat feed from the Core.
His eyes narrowed.
> "Still alive after six direct engagements. Good. But... he's stalling."
He raised a hand to summon another comic warrior.
Then paused.
"No. Let him live tonight."
He snapped his fingers.
> [Order: Umbrafang – Cease Attack, Leave Trace.]
---
Prague Rooftop – End of Battle
Just as Kiaan prepared his final binding spell, every assassin faded.
Not teleported. Not destroyed.
Just… unwritten.
In their place, hovering above the rooftop, was a small scroll.
He picked it up.
Unrolled it.
Inside—words, drawn in bleeding ink:
---
> "You are not prey. You are potential.
Your eyes see threads.
But can you pull them?"
> —The Veiled Monarch
---
Kiaan stared at it for a long time.
Then burned it with his aura.
But the words were still etched behind his eyelids.
> You are not prey. You are potential…
---
Elsewhere – Secret Room, Temple of the Veiled Monarch
Kaalkrit slammed a fist into the stone wall.
Flames danced behind his back. His horns were longer now. His aura, unstable.
> "Why are we testing him?"
Ratri floated nearby, her legs lazily crossed in the air, lips curled in a smirk. Her breasts swayed with every spin, but her eyes burned serious.
> "Because dear Rudra wants followers, not just corpses."
Kaalkrit growled.
> "He's forgetting what it means to be feared."
Ratri tilted her head.
> "No. He's remembering what it means to be obeyed."
---