Nois moved first.
Not a step. Not a charge. Just—displacement. He was at the tunnel entrance one moment, behind Roger the next. Shadow-to-shadow teleportation. Instant. Silent.
His blade—curved, black as void—swept toward Roger's neck.
Roger's cursed spirit manifested fully. Serpentine form coiling, catching the blade with ethereal flesh. The impact sparked—steel against spiritual matter.
Nois smiled wider. "Fast reflexes. Good. I'd be disappointed otherwise."
He pulled back, melted into shadow, reappeared five meters left. Three copies split from him—shadow clones, each wielding identical blades.
They attacked simultaneously. Different angles. Perfect coordination.
Roger's spirit lashed out—whip-like body striking two clones. They dispersed into smoke. But the third got through, blade scoring a line across Roger's shoulder. Blood welled, dark in the flame light.
Raven moved. Demon Flame ignited both hands, he threw twin fireballs at the real Nois—the one hanging back, observing.
Nois didn't dodge. Shadows rose like walls, absorbed the flames. They burned bright for a second, then extinguished. Consumed.
"Tier 2," Nois observed, voice clinical. Amused. "The reports said you were Tier 4 at the cathedral. What happened? Did the big bad hybrid lose his teeth?"
Raven didn't answer. Demon Stepped—two meters right, reappeared throwing another fireball.
Nois teleported. Behind Raven now. Blade slashed horizontal.
Raven dropped, rolled, came up in crouch. The blade passed centimeters above his head, close enough to feel the cold radiating from it.
"You're slow," Nois commented. "Weak. Disappointing, really. I expected more from the terrorist who opened the Gate."
He vanished again.
Roger shouted: "He's playing with us! Don't engage—retreat!"
Too late.
Nois appeared between them. Four shadow clones manifested simultaneously—surrounding them in a circle of blades and malice.
The real Nois stood at the center. "Retreat? But we just started. And I haven't had fun in weeks."
All five attacked.
Raven blocked one blade with flame-coated forearm—impact jarred his bones, holy energy in the weapon burning through demonic fire. Another blade swept low, he jumped, barely cleared it.
Landed wrong. Ankle twisted.
Third blade thrust toward his chest. He twisted, felt it slice ribs—shallow but painful. Blood ran hot.
Roger fared better. Tier 4 reflexes, decades of combat experience. His cursed spirit moved like liquid death, intercepting attacks, countering with venomous strikes. Two clones dispersed under the assault.
But three remained. Plus the real Nois.
And Nois was toying with them.
Raven could see it. The assassin's movements were precise but not urgent. Efficient but not desperate. He was testing them. Playing. Enjoying.
"You know what I love about hunting contractors?" Nois said conversationally while his clones attacked. "The fear. That moment when they realize they're going to die. When all their power means nothing."
He teleported behind Raven. Kicked him hard in the spine. Raven flew forward, crashed into the wall, ribs screaming.
"But you don't have fear, do you?" Nois continued, appearing above him. "I can see it. The emptiness. You're already hollow inside."
Blade descended toward Raven's neck—
Roger's spirit intercepted. Coiled around Nois, squeezed. The assassin grunted, shadows erupting from his body, forcing the spirit back.
"Protective," Nois noted. "How sweet. The old veteran and the baby terrorist. Beautiful friendship."
He split into six clones. All attacked Roger simultaneously.
Roger's spirit couldn't block them all. Three blades got through—shoulder, thigh, side. Roger staggered, bleeding from multiple wounds.
Raven forced himself up. Ribs grated. Ankle throbbed. Demon Flame flickered weakly in his hands—stamina draining fast.
"Raven, you need to run," Azaelith's voice urgent in his mind. "You can't win this. He's too strong, too fast—"
"I know."
"Then GO!"
But Roger was down. Wounded. Nois circling him like a predator.
Calculation was instant: Leave Roger. Escape alone. Better survival odds.
Raven took a step toward the exit tunnel.
Then—
Footsteps. From above. Panicked. Running.
Someone had heard the fight. Civilians.
A woman appeared at the chamber entrance—thirties, homeless from the look of her, probably using these tunnels as shelter. She froze, seeing the battle. The blood. The monsters.
Nois turned. Saw her.
Smiled.
"Witness," he said simply. "Can't have that."
He teleported. Appeared beside the woman. Blade raised.
She screamed.
Time slowed.
Raven calculated.
Option 1: Save her. Demon Step, intercept the blade. But that would put him in melee range with Nois. Vulnerable. Likely dead.
Option 2: Let her die. Use the distraction to escape. Pragmatic. Efficient. Smart.
The ember of mercy flickered. That last piece of humanity whispering: She's innocent. Save her.
But the cold logic—the empty demon he was becoming—whispered louder: She's irrelevant. You matter. Survive.
Nois's blade descended.
The woman closed her eyes.
Raven made his choice.
He turned toward the exit.
Let her die.
The scream cut off abruptly. Wet sound. Body hitting ground.
"Raven" Azaelith's voice. Shocked. Horrified.
He didn't look back. Didn't feel guilt. Didn't feel anything.
The ember died.
Mercy—extinct.
"Interesting," Nois said from behind him. "You let her die. Cold. I like that."
Raven kept walking toward the exit.
"But you're not leaving yet." Nois appeared in his path. "We're not done playing."
Five shadow clones manifested. Surrounded him completely.
And Raven—
Felt something.
Not emotion. Not mercy or fear or anything human.
Rage.
Pure, cold, empty rage.
Not at Nois. Not at the situation.
At the weakness. At being forced to run. At being powerless.
He'd been Tier 4. Had fought the Horror. Had stood at the center of the Gate.
And now he was prey.
Unacceptable.
The shadows around him—the ones Nois controlled—suddenly felt... wrong. Like they were being pulled. Contested.
"Raven," Azaelith breathed. "Your shadow manipulation—it's activating—"
"I know."
He could feel it. Dormant ability awakening in desperation. Connection to darkness itself. Not demon flame. Not charm. Something deeper.
The ability to command shadows as Nois did.
But crude. Unrefined. Barely controlled.
Didn't matter.
Raven reached toward the darkness and pulled.
The shadows responded. Not smoothly like Nois's control. But violently. Chaotically. Like grabbing live wires.
The chamber plunged into deeper black. Nois's clones destabilized—their forms flickering as Raven's wild power contested their existence.
"Oh?" Nois's voice. Genuinely interested now. "Shadow affinity? Awakening mid-combat? How delicious."
But his clones were dispersing. Raven's untamed power disrupting the constructs.
Raven didn't think. Didn't plan. Just moved.
Shadows wrapped around him—not Nois's, his own. They pulled him through space. Not clean teleportation like Demon Step. More like being dragged through tar. Disorienting. Nauseating.
He emerged three meters away. Behind Nois.
Swung flame-wreathed fist at the assassin's head.
Nois blocked casually. But had to actually block. No more toying.
"Better," he said. "You're adapting. Good. This will be more fun than I thought."
He kicked Raven in the knee. Something cracked. Raven collapsed.
Blade descended—
Roger's cursed spirit intercepted again. Massive serpentine head clamping down on Nois's arm. The assassin hissed, shadows erupting, throwing the spirit off.
"Still interfering," Nois muttered. "Fine."
He split into eight clones. Four attacked Roger. Four attacked Raven.
Raven's shadow manipulation flared desperately. He pulled darkness around himself like armor. Blades struck shadow-flesh instead of his body—dispersed, reformed, dispersed again.
But stamina was bottoming out. Power flickering. He couldn't maintain this.
One blade got through. Pierced his shoulder. He screamed—first time tonight. Pain white-hot.
Blood poured. Vision blurred.
Roger was worse. Bleeding from a dozen wounds. Cursed spirit barely manifesting. He collapsed to one knee.
They were going to die.
Nois re-formed. Single body. Walked slowly toward Raven.
"That's the look I wanted," he purred. "Not fear. But understanding. You understand you're going to die now."
He raised his blade. Final strike.
"Any last words, terrorist?"
Raven's vision darkened. Not from unconsciousness. From something else.
The shadows in the chamber were moving. All of them. Converging on one point.
Not responding to Nois.
Not responding to Raven.
Responding to something else.
The air pressure dropped. Temperature plummeted. Frost formed on walls.
Nois frowned. "What—"
The shadows exploded.
A shockwave of pure darkness erupted from the center of the chamber. It threw everyone—Raven, Roger, Nois—against walls with bone-breaking force.
Raven hit concrete. Felt ribs crack further. Tasted blood.
But he was alive.
Through blurred vision, he saw movement In the settling darkness. A figure. Not Nois.
Tall. Cloaked. Radiating power that made his contract marking burn.
And a voice. Female. Cold. Ancient.
"Enough."
The figure raised one hand. Shadows obeyed instantly—perfectly controlled, unlike Raven's wild power or even Nois's refined technique.
They wrapped around Nois. Immobilized him completely.
The assassin struggled. Shadows bound tighter.
"Who—" he started.
"Leave," the figure commanded. Not to Nois. To Raven and Roger. "Before I change my mind about saving you."
Raven tried to stand. Couldn't. Too injured.
Roger crawled to him. Grabbed his arm. Started dragging him toward the exit.
"Wait—" Raven managed.
"No waiting," Roger hissed. "Whoever that is, she just gave us a chance. We take it."
Nois broke free from the shadow binding. Immediately teleported toward them—
The figure moved faster. Appeared between them and Nois. Extended one finger.
Nois froze. Completely paralyzed.
"I said," the figure repeated, "enough."
She turned slightly. Raven caught glimpse of her face under the hood.
Young. Beautiful. And eyes—
Pure black. No white. No iris. Just void.
"Run, little hybrid," she said. Not unkindly. "Before he breaks my hold."
Roger didn't need telling twice. He hauled Raven up, supporting his weight, and they stumbled into the exit tunnel.
Behind them, Raven heard Nois snarling. The figure laughing softly. Sounds of combat resuming.
Then distance swallowed it all.
Roger pulled him through maintenance corridors. Up ladders. Through forgotten passages.
Raven's consciousness flickered. Blood loss. Injuries. Exhaustion.
Last thing he saw before darkness took him—
Roger's determined face. Dragging him to safety.
And last thing he thought—
Mercy is gone. I let her die. And I feel nothing about it.
I'm free.