Chapter 13 – Tensions and Thrones
I – The Light Devoured
The man with the cleaver charged first.
He didn't make it two steps.
Andrew vanished from view—Shadow Step—and reappeared behind him, blade already swinging. The katana carved clean through plate and bone, leaving the cleaver-wielder screaming as his body hit the ground in two pieces.
Before the others could react, Clara moved.
A wave of wind-infused flame blasted across the room, knocking two crusaders into the cracked wall with bone-snapping force.
One tried to cast a barrier—too slow.
She was already on him, short sword spinning, punching through the protection like wet paper. Blood sprayed across the floor.
The last two tried to run.
Andrew's Gravity Manipulation snapped on—twisting the ground beneath them, doubling their weight, slamming them flat.
A whisper from the dark.
And the shadows swallowed them.
Five entered.
None left breathing.
Andrew stepped over the corpses, sword still in hand. Clara breathed hard but steady, watching him, flames dimming.
She didn't say a word.
She didn't have to.
---
II – The False Prophet Falls
Outside, not far from the ruined home, Elias stood beneath the twisted remains of a streetlight, flanked by three of his elite guards.
His expression had begun to shift from smug confidence… to confusion.
"…They should've reported back by now."
He reached for his interface.
Then he stopped.
A breath too late.
A blade pierced through his heart from behind.
It wasn't Andrew.
It wasn't Clara.
It was a woman cloaked in smoke and silence.
Mira.
She leaned close, whispering into his ear.
"Judgment goes both ways."
And then she twisted the dagger.
Elias's mouth fell open—light flickering out of his eyes—and then he dropped.
Mira vanished before the guards could react.
---
III – The Gathering of Wolves
Sometime later.
A ruined amphitheater, scorched and half-buried under monster bones.
Andrew stood alone at the center, Clara at his side.
The four remaining leaders emerged one by one—each from a different direction.
Koro the Grin, spinning a skull between his fingers.
Bex the Red Widow, dragging a hammer soaked in dried blood.
Mira, unseen until she simply appeared, arms folded.
Felix Hound, calm, massive, eyes steady.
They didn't fight.
Not yet.
They watched him.
And Andrew watched them back.
"You've all been following me," he said.
Koro chuckled. "Can you blame us? You make such pretty explosions."
Bex grinned. "You're strong. But are you stable?"
Mira said nothing.
Felix stepped forward. "We came to see who you were. What you'd do."
Andrew's voice was low. Cold.
"And now?"
Felix met his gaze. "Now we want to know what you want."
Silence.
Then Andrew stepped forward.
"I want answers. Why you were watching. What you're after. Whether I need to kill you now… or later."
The air grew tense.
Five killers.
Five camps.
One shadow-born reaper.
And the world watched as something new began to take shape.
A slow wind swept across the ruined amphitheater. Dust rolled over stone and broken chairs like crawling ghosts. Shadows clung to every corner—and yet, none of them made a move.
Andrew remained still at the center.
"So?" he said at last. "Let's hear it. Why were you watching us?"
The first to answer was Felix Hound.
The broad man crossed his arms. "Survival," he said plainly. "My people are builders. Defenders. The strong protect the weak—or the weak become kindling."
He met Andrew's gaze directly.
"I watched you because I need to know who threatens that balance. And you? You're the most dangerous person I've seen since the Rift opened."
Andrew nodded slightly. "You fear me."
"I respect you," Felix corrected. "But fear is just another form of respect with teeth."
Next, Bex the Red Widow laughed.
"Oh, I don't give a damn about balance," she said, red hair falling over one eye. "I want to fight the strongest. Crush bones. Break monsters. Test my limits."
She leaned on her hammer, smiling wide. "You're strong. And your girl? She's fire wrapped in skin. I watched you to see if you're worthy of my battlefield."
Clara shifted but said nothing.
Andrew didn't look her way. "And when the fight's over?"
Bex's grin widened. "If I'm alive, I move on. If not, I die smiling."
Then came Koro the Grin.
The necromancer tilted his skull-shaped staff, licking his lips.
"I'm just curious," he said softly. "You burn bright. So much rage. So much potential. People like you make the world interesting."
He spun the skull lazily. "I watched you because I want to see what you become. A god? A monster? A savior? Either way, the blood will be beautiful."
Andrew's expression didn't change.
Finally, Mira stepped out of the shadow beside a broken column.
"I watched you because you're like me," she said.
Andrew's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You don't trust people. You observe. You kill when it's necessary. You don't flinch when it gets dirty." She looked at Clara. "But she's changed you, hasn't she?"
Clara's expression tightened, but she didn't respond.
Andrew exhaled slowly.
"I'm leaving tomorrow."
The statement hit the space like a hammer.
"You're what?" Koro blinked.
"This city. This country. I'm done with it."
"Where the hell do you think you'll go?" Bex asked, raising a brow.
Andrew finally looked up—something strange flickering behind his eyes.
"I've been thinking," he said. "If I can shape weapons… barriers… shadows that hold weight…"
He turned toward the sky.
"…then why can't I shape wings?"
The leaders fell silent.
No one laughed.
Clara, however, smiled faintly.
Because she knew—
He wasn't joking.
The ruined amphitheater was quiet.
The leaders exchanged looks, some amused, some incredulous.
Bex smirked first. "Wings? Flying? You're joking, right?"
Felix chuckled. "Flying monsters will tear you apart in the air. No one's meant to fly anymore."
Koro laughed, bone staff tapping the ground. "Cute dream."
Mira folded her arms, watching Andrew with a calm expression.
The clearest voice came from Felix: "If you want to survive and conquer, join us. Together we could rule more than this blasted land."
Andrew's gaze was steady.
"No."
A pause.
Bex spat on the ground. "Your loss."
Slowly, one by one, the leaders turned and vanished back into the shadows from which they came.
Mira lingered a moment longer, stepping close to Andrew.
"You're wasting your time."
He shook his head. "No. I'm doing what I have to."
She considered, then gave a small nod.
"Very well. Until next time."
She melted into the night.
---
A Quiet Night
Under a shattered moon, Andrew and Clara sat silently by their small campfire.
They practiced meditation—the calm focus allowing their bodies to knit and mana to restore faster.
By dawn, both had unlocked a new passive:
> Magic Recovery Skill – Level 1
Greatly increases mana regeneration speed during rest and meditation.
Andrew stood, muscles humming with energy and purpose.
"Time to try something."
Using his shadows and gravity manipulation, he wove a pair of massive wings—dark, sleek, and feather-like but made of solid shadow energy.
Clara watched, eyes wide.
Together, they stepped onto the back of a massive pterodactyl-shaped Shadow Minion—its leathery wings beating steadily beneath them.
A shimmering Shadow Barrier (Level 4) flickered to life, shielding them from the wind and sky.
"Ready?"
Clara nodded.
With a rush of magic and a lift of gravity lightening their bodies, they soared into the dawn.
---
Onward to Canada
Their route would be long.
They planned multiple stops to scavenge supplies, avoid dangerous creatures, and recover.
Andrew's brother was somewhere up north.
And they would find him—no matter what it took.