The docks at Redwater were quiet — too quiet. The usual creak of moored ships and the drunken laughter from the taverns had been swallowed by a heavy, metallic stillness.
That was when Herzl saw him.
The man stood at the edge of the pier, coat the color of burnt ash swaying with the wind. Tall. Broad. A shadow carved from steel and smoke. His rifle — black as midnight and etched with faint, glowing sigils — rested lazily against his shoulder, but his posture screamed predator.
Kael's voice was low. "That's no trader."
Herzl's hand hovered near his pistol. "No. Traders don't smell like blood and cordite."
The man's voice carried across the pier, deep and unhurried.
"Herzl. I was told you'd be taller."
"And I was told my killers would at least buy me a drink first," Herzl replied.
The stranger's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Not here to kill you. Just to take something you don't even know you have."
The rifle snapped up without warning. A flash. A crack of thunder. Herzl twisted — the round missed his heart by inches, tearing a smoking hole in his coat.
Kael fired three times, but the bullets curved away midair, the same strange hum vibrating in the air each time.
Herzl dove behind a stack of crates as another shot slammed into the wood, punching clean through to the other side. The man advanced, every step measured, boots clicking against the planks in rhythm with the pounding in Herzl's ears.
Herzl peeked around the corner, only to jerk back as a shot grazed the side of his head, close enough to shear a lock of hair. He's reading me… every move, before I make it.
The next exchange was faster — Herzl broke left, Kael right. The ashen-coated man pivoted with impossible precision, switching between them as if he could track both at once. Bullets whined off iron bollards, splitting rope, shattering glass.
"Fast," the man called out over the din. "But you still think in straight lines."
Herzl slammed into a winch, rolling behind it. Kael reloaded with gritted teeth. "Herzl, he's not missing — he's predicting."
"I noticed," Herzl growled. So I have to stop being predictable.
When the stranger lined up the next shot, Herzl yanked a rope. Overhead, a suspended cargo net of sandbags tore free, slamming between them and exploding into a choking cloud of dust.
Herzl burst through the haze, firing on instinct, forcing the man to shift. For the first time, a shot grazed his shoulder, tearing a clean line through the ashen fabric.
The man didn't flinch — but the smile faded.
Then the rifle changed. With a twist, its barrel split into three gleaming prongs, arcs of pale lightning dancing between them. When he fired again, the bullet cracked with force enough to crater the pier.
Herzl barely rolled clear as splinters exploded upward like shrapnel.
Kael shouted, "What the hell is that thing?!"
Herzl didn't answer. He was too busy moving — every dodge now a gamble, every second a dance on the knife's edge. He could feel the man's eyes on him, not just watching, but knowing.
Finally, the man stopped, lowering his weapon slightly. "Better than the rumors say. But not enough. Not yet."
A gust of cold sea air swirled between them. When it cleared, the man was gone — vanished into the storm rolling over Redwater's horizon.
Kael approached, breathing hard. "Who was that?"
Herzl stared at the empty space. "Someone who's going to come back. And when he does… he won't miss."