Rael ran.
The alley twisted behind him, shadows warping into grotesque shapes as his feet slapped against the cold ground. Every breath was shallow, every nerve sharp. Yet somehow, the two figures—the naked old man and woman—stood ahead of him. Still. Grinning.
Their faces wore the kind of grin that shouldn't exist on anything human—too wide, too knowing. But just as Rael's terror reached its crescendo, the grin melted away. Horror etched into their features. Their smiles dropped. Their wrinkled eyes widened.
They were staring behind him.
Rael, already drenched in sweat, turned his head slowly. And there she was.
A woman in a long, flowing dress. Faceless. Utterly void of expression.
No eyes. No nose. No mouth. Only the smooth canvas of pale skin stretching endlessly across her face.
Terror slammed into Rael's chest.
He ran.
But something was wrong.
The street kept extending, stretching unnaturally like a conjured illusion. No matter how fast he ran, he didn't move. It was as if the ground beneath him had become a treadmill of despair.
"No! No! Move!" he shouted.
But his legs betrayed him. The road mocked his efforts. He felt like a trapped rat, chased by a predator he could not understand.
Behind him, the faceless woman laughed.
A chilling, hysterical laughter that echoed and bounced off the walls of the endless street. She wasn't chasing him. She didn't need to. She was simply watching him flail in meaningless resistance.
But then—she stopped laughing.
Rael stumbled to his knees as the illusion around him shattered. The infinite road ceased, becoming solid once more. He gasped, his body soaked in sweat.
He dared to look back.
The faceless woman now stared upward. Something had changed.
Her form trembled.
"Again... a Harbringer," she hissed, her voice like glass scraping against bone. "You should all just die."
She screamed. A shriek so potent that it fractured the air around her. Rael fell, clutching his ears, his skull reverberating with her cry.
And then—
A black spear pierced her.
From above, like judgment cast from the sky, the long, metal spike struck her from the top of her faceless head down to her knees.
She withered. Her body collapsed in on itself like dried paper. Gone. Reduced to a husk.
Rael stared at the weapon.
It was like no metal he'd ever seen. Long, thin, and blacker than shadow, etched with symbols that twisted even when unobserved. Its tip was spiral-shaped, a helix that shimmered with deadly intent. But then, it changed.
The spiral unraveled, folding into itself, and the weapon became a simple, dark rod lined with those same strange marks.
And then, a man landed beside it.
He looked to be in his thirties, wearing a long, dark leather coat that rippled slightly even without wind. His black boots hit the ground with weight and finality. His aura was oppressive—not from hostility, but sheer presence. Raven-black hair, sharp eyes like sharpened obsidian, and an expression carved from stone.
Rael couldn't move.
The man picked up the black weapon, gripping it like an extension of himself. But as he turned—a darker figure emerged behind him.
A shape of moving sand, shadowed mist, and teeth.
A beast made of darkness.
Rael recoiled instinctively. Every instinct in his body screamed. This creature made the faceless woman seem like a child's nightmare. This—this thing was something else. Something primordial.
The beast opened its jaw.
And devoured the black weapon whole.
Rael's mouth hung open in silent disbelief.
The man in leather spoke.
"I see," he said in a voice as cold as steel. "You still can't use it."
He turned his eyes to Rael.
"Or... you're not even aware you have it."
Rael inched backward, crawling on the ground.
The man stepped closer.
In one fluid motion, he reached down and grabbed Rael by the collar of his school polo, lifting him off the ground with ease.
"Ouma Wings."
Behind him, the black beast shimmered. Its form collapsed inward, folding and condensing. Then, it burst outward as two massive wings made of pitch shadow. Silent, yet terrifying. They spread out with a quiet dominance, blotting out what little light remained.
Rael couldn't even scream.
He felt wind, speed, gravity—then the absence of all of them.
Darkness blurred. Time cracked. Space folded.
They flew.
When they landed, Rael dropped to his knees.
He opened his eyes slowly.
They were no longer in the alley.
An old, abandoned building loomed around them, its walls cracked and its windows long broken. The man continued to drag Rael forward, deeper into the structure. Rael didn't resist. He couldn't. He felt as if he was being pulled not just by the man's hand, but by something greater—fate, maybe.
They stopped in the middle of the building.
"Kurorei," the man said.
The ground trembled.
And then, it sank.
Stone crumbled, the tiles beneath them falling away as the floor transformed into a circular platform that descended like a forgotten elevator.
Rael held his breath.
Darkness gave way to a corridor, long and dimly lit, like a forgotten passage hidden beneath the world. Strange lamps flickered with blue flame, casting eerie shadows on the concrete walls.
At the end of the alley, a woman stood waiting.
She wore a long black coat, tailored and militaristic, and dark boots that clicked as she stepped forward. Her expression was unreadable, her presence composed.
The man released Rael's collar.
Then he spoke:
"Eidolon boy... welcome to the world of Harbringers."
His voice echoed in the corridor, final and undeniable.
Rael stood there, trembling.
Somewhere deep within him, something stirred.
Not fear. Not awe.
But recognition.