The masked man didn't hesitate.
Steel met flesh as he drove his blade into the monster's chest, the impact sending a shockwave through the street. The creature howled, stumbling backward, its massive frame cracking the asphalt beneath its feet. The masked man twisted midair, landing lightly, already preparing the final strike.
He was about to end it—
When the air behind him tore apart.
A second monster burst from the darkness, its claws slicing toward his back with terrifying speed.
He sensed it.
In the last fraction of a second, he vanished from where he stood.
The claws cut through empty air.
The masked man reappeared several meters away, boots skidding across the road as he absorbed the momentum and straightened himself. He stood calmly, shoulders relaxed, as if two towering nightmares charging toward him was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
The two monsters roared in unison.
They lowered their bodies and charged.
The ground trembled.
The masked man rolled his neck once, loosening tension, then lifted his sword and rested it casually on his shoulder.
"Come on," he muttered.
The blade shimmered.
Dark purple light pulsed along its edge, spreading like veins of energy. The metal warped, reshaped, compressed—until the sword was no longer a sword.
It became a baseball bat.
Jet black. Heavy. Solid. The kind of weapon meant not to cut—but to destroy.
The monsters closed in.
The masked man sprinted forward.
At the last second, he jumped.
He swung the bat with brutal precision, slamming it into the first monster's face. The sound was deafening—bone cracking, flesh collapsing. The creature's head snapped sideways as its entire body lifted off the ground and crashed into the street with an earth-shaking impact.
It didn't get up.
The masked man landed smoothly, already moving.
The bat dissolved into purple light.
In its place, two sharp ninja knives formed in his hands, their edges glowing faintly.
The second monster roared and lunged.
Instead of retreating, the masked man ran toward a nearby building.
Straight up the wall.
Gravity seemed to forget him.
He sprinted vertically, boots striking concrete as if it were solid ground beneath his feet. The monster skidded to a halt, looking up, confused and furious.
The masked man reached the rooftop.
He stopped at the edge, turning slowly to face the creature below.
He spread his arms slightly.
"Come on," he shouted. "Kill me if you can."
The monster answered with a roar so loud it shattered nearby windows.
It charged the building.
The structure groaned as the creature slammed into it, climbing, tearing chunks of concrete free as it ascended. The masked man waited—calm, patient, calculating.
At the perfect moment—
He jumped.
He dropped like a shadow from the sky, knives ready.
He landed on the monster's shoulder, blades sinking deep into its flesh. The creature screamed, thrashing violently, trying to rip him free.
But the masked man was relentless.
He climbed.
Hand over hand, blade after blade, he moved toward its neck. The monster clawed at him blindly, its massive hands scraping against its own body, but he was too fast, too precise.
He reached the base of its neck.
And plunged both knives in.
The monster's roar turned into a choking scream.
The masked man held tight as gravity pulled him downward. The knives cut deeper, slicing through muscle and bone as he slid along its spine, sparks of dark purple energy trailing behind him.
The creature collapsed.
Its body hit the ground with a thunderous crash.
Silence followed.
The masked man stood up slowly. The knives dissolved back into a single sword in his hand. Smoke rose from the monster's wounds. The city seemed frozen—soldiers, reporters, cameras—all staring.
He began to walk away.
Casual. Unbothered.
Then—
A roar.
The first monster stirred.
It rose shakily, eyes burning with rage as it looked at its fallen companion. Its scream echoed through the streets as it charged toward the masked man, desperation fueling its speed.
The masked man stopped.
For a heartbeat, he stood still.
Then the monster froze.
Something unseen held it back.
The masked man was no longer in front of it.
He was beside it.
The sword flashed.
A single, clean motion.
The monster was cut in half.
Its body split apart before it even realized what had happened. Both halves collapsed—and then dissolved into thick black smoke that vanished into the night air.
The first monster followed, fading the same way.
And then—
The masked man vanished too.
No smoke. No light.
Just gone.
As if none of it had ever existed.
The street stood empty.
People screamed.
Cameras shook.
No one spoke for several seconds.
They had witnessed something beyond explanation.
By morning, the city had changed forever.
The videos went viral.
Every angle. Every frame. Every slowed-down second analyzed endlessly.
"This city is not for humans," a reporter declared dramatically on live television.
"The stories about monsters are true—and heroes are real," read a viral thumbnail beneath the masked man's silhouette.
Tourists began arriving by noon.
The city was no longer just a place.
It was history in the making.
At Lily's house, three pairs of eyes were glued to a tablet screen.
"Pause," Henry said suddenly. "Go back."
Lily rewound the video and slowed it down.
"There," Henry pointed. "Did you see that light?"
They watched again.
Every time the masked man's weapon changed, a dark purple glow flashed briefly.
Chris nodded. "Yeah. It's consistent."
Lily leaned back, thoughtful. "And isn't it weird?"
Henry looked at her. "What is?"
"He's completely dressed in black," Lily said. "Black shirt. Black coat. Black… bell-bottoms? Whatever those are. His hair is black. His weapons too."
Chris frowned. "So?"
Lily gestured at the screen. "Black hides things. Blood. Shadows. Identity. It blends with the night sky."
She paused, then added quietly, "It's the perfect color to disappear."
Chris tried to process it. "So you think it's intentional."
"Everything about him is intentional," Lily replied.
She hesitated, then shook her head. "Anyway… forget it. I'm probably overthinking."
Henry smiled faintly. "That's what you do best."
He looked back at the screen.
Somewhere deep inside, a strange feeling settled in his chest.
At Twilight's house, the world was quiet again.
Twilight slept deeply on his bed, exhaustion finally dragging him under. Rony lay curled beneath his arm, small and warm.
The alarm rang.
Rony's ears twitched.
Carefully, the little bunny climbed over Twilight, reached the alarm, and slapped it off with one tiny paw.
Satisfied, Rony hopped down from the bed and padded toward the stairs.
Twilight slept on.
Unaware that the city now worshipped a shadow.
Unaware that the night remembered his name.