Chapter — The Night of Shadows
The great modern bourgeois city was asleep.
A type-A modern metropolis, radically different from the old type-B contemporary cities: here, roads crisscrossed in suspension, layered in every direction, cutting through the entire city like a living network. A model of cold, elegant futuristic urbanism, where even the two bourgeois styles opposed one another without ever blending.
The night was black… and yet luminous.
A new moon reigned proudly in a clear sky, surrounded by vast clusters of stars. An icy breeze swept across the heights, cold enough to make anyone shiver as they sensed the raw beauty of the universe from the ground below. A fairy-tale setting, almost unreal, inviting one to lose themselves within it.
On one of the perfectly straight, flawlessly smooth roads, a transport truck sped forward.
It had no tires: in their place, circular thrusters embedded in the chassis kept it hovering, hurling it ahead with a deep, resonant hum.
Suddenly, a silhouette spun through the dark sky.
It leapt from shadow to shadow in a fraction of a second, merging with the darkness itself. Its trajectory was clear: the truck.
When it drew close enough, the silhouette threw a small sphere, barely larger than a ping-pong ball.
The device embedded itself into the seam of the transporter's rear hatch.
A sharp explosion erupted instantly.
Seizing the moment, Thirteen leapt. He pierced through the smoke screen in a flawless motion and slipped inside the truck at the exact instant of the blast.
But the moment his foot touched the interior floor, web launchers erupted from all sides.
An ambush.
The projectiles wrapped around him, immobilizing him brutally. He crashed heavily to the ground, unable to move. His final words escaped in a bitter breath:
"…Bad shipment. No merchandise."
---
Not far away, seated on a bench in the heart of a park illuminated by bluish streetlights, Black and Oz observed the scene from afar.
"Is it already over?" Black asked, doubtful.
Oz curved a smile.
"What if we made a bet?
A ceasefire… on the condition that our victory is total."
Black raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Very well.
If you succeed without taking a single scratch, we become friends.
Otherwise… you become my toys."
As they stood to head toward the scene, Oz's final words echoed, heavy with contempt:
"You still haven't seen anything… what ignorance."
---
Inside the truck, Thirteen's captured body suddenly began to change.
It liquefied, becoming a shadow of ink before vanishing entirely.
At the same moment, across the city, twelve other cargo transports were attacked by identical silhouettes.
With each capture, the bodies dissolved in the same way… except for three of them.
Those three exploded violently.
The last one—the real one—was already fleeing.
Mission accomplished, Thirteen leapt from shadow to shadow, sometimes even slipping through the ground itself. Wherever there was darkness, it became his absolute territory. Without limits.
But he was not alone.
The Light Wolves were in pursuit.
Clad in long black coats adorned with golden patterns along the sleeves, collars, and buttons, their hybrid silhouettes evoked werewolves. Their abilities far exceeded human limits: despite Thirteen's shadowportation, they remained dangerously close.
Trapped, unable to shake them for long, Thirteen sent a rapid transmission:
"I'm going to need backup… in fifteen seconds."
He accelerated again.
And again.
Until he far exceeded the speed of sound.
His movements became nearly impossible to track. In his wake, a trail of ink spread out, blurring the pursuit. The Light Wolves unleashed a bestial howl, dispersing the haze—revealing Thirteen running parallel to them, separated by several buildings.
---
Earlier, a sphere of air had been launched.
And now, its wielder was here.
Imagine.
"Three…"
"Two…"
"One…"
They activated their techniques simultaneously.
Third
⟨ Winds and Storms — Ascending Tornado ⟩
Thirteen
⟨ Sixth Demonic Art — Ascendant Demon ⟩
Thirteen spun vertically in a blazing upward motion. The tornado amplified his trajectory, hurling him to a vertiginous height—high enough for him to be silhouetted against the moon.
Then he vanished, swallowed by a rabbit-paw hole hidden among the clouds.
The instant Thirteen was gone, Third vanished as well, leaving behind one final remark:
"He really almost met the man in the moon."
---
But the game was far from over.
"No need for your wind tricks…
Watch the expert."
Nine entered the fray.
He took a runner's stance.
⟨ Nine Tails — Kitsune Form ⟩
Nine tails burst forth behind him, spinning like helicopter blades as he launched forward at staggering speed.
"This turf is mine."
On a nearby rooftop, 63 leapt as well. Blood burst from his back, solidifying into bat-like wings that spread wide with a powerful beat.
"I'm coming, sis.
The Scarlet Stone… we're getting it back."
Elsewhere, First observed the unfolding chaos.
At the center, Third remained in reserve.
Then, in a single instant, Aliss vanished.
In her place, a card slowly appeared in the air:
a Nine of Spades ♤.
Her voice echoed one last time through the night:
"That diadem they think they took from me…
already belongs to me."
---