The cold night air whipped against Leornars' face as he tore through the harbor district, his feet barely grazing the cobblestones. The physical pain from the dagger in his foot burned with a sharp, cleansing heat—a brutal anchor that kept the screaming chorus in his mind temporarily at bay. Blood dripped from his heel, leaving a faint crimson trail across the damp stone, but his speed never faltered.
Ahead, abandoned warehouse number five-sixty-four loomed like a rotting titan against the black backdrop of the sea. Large, rusted iron doors hung slightly off their hinges, and the salty scent of ocean water mixed heavily with the stench of cheap ale, unwashed bodies, and stale tobacco.
Inside, the remaining members of the Black Acers sat around overturned crates, polishing weapons and gambling under the dim, flickering light of oil lanterns.
"Leader's been gone a while," one mercenary grunted, tossing a pair of worn dice onto a barrel lid. "Think he found whoever took out the princess?"
"Who cares?" another laughed, taking a long swig from a wooden tankard. "Once he brings back that head, the king's blank decree is ours. We'll be living like gods in the upper district while this whole damn kingdom starves."
*CRASH—!*
The massive iron doors were torn clean off their hinges, bursting inward like shrapnel.
Before the dust could even settle, three mercenaries in the front row were severed into six neat pieces, a dark blur flashing past them before they could even draw their blades. Blood sprayed across the wooden crates, extinguishing the lanterns and plunging the warehouse into a terrifying, blood-red twilight.
"INTRUDER—!" someone shrieked.
Leornars stood in the center of the room, his black silk coat lightly dusted with rust and ash. His heterochromatic eyes glowed with an unholy, feral intensity, and the black mist curling from his lips pooled around his boots like living shadows.
"Where is your leader?" Leornars asked, his voice chillingly calm, echoing with a strange, dual resonance.
A hulking man wielding a spiked warhammer lunged at him from the shadows with a deafening roar. "DIE, YOU BRAAT—!"
Leornars didn't even turn his head. He simply raised his left hand, his fingers twitching slightly.
*BANG!*
An invisible force of kinetic pressure flattened the giant instantly into the concrete floor, crushing his bones and armor into a unrecognizable paste. The sheer atmospheric shockwave blew back the remaining dozen assassins, sending them scrambling against the far walls in absolute panic.
"Mach 8... no, he's moving faster..." Lloyd, the vice-captain, stammered from the upper catwalk, his hands shaking violently as he drew his curved scimitars. "Monster... You're the one who killed the princess! You framed us!"
Leornars raised his eyes to the upper level, a cold, humorless smile spreading across his face. "Framed? You sound offended. A vermin gang like yours should be honored to serve as my stepping stone."
"Kill him! Use the heavy crossbows!" Lloyd screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria.
Enchanted steel bolts rained down from the rafters, tearing through the air with shrill whistles.
Leornars merely flexed his wrists.
*[Threads of Abstract]*
Thinner-than-hair strands of pure, compressed spatial force erupted from his fingertips, weaving a microscopic net around his body. The heavy steel bolts were sliced into harmless metallic dust the instant they made contact. With a flick of his wrist, Leornars sent the threads flying outward in a wide, sweeping horizontal arc.
The entire upper catwalk, along with the six archers stationed upon it, was cleanly bisected. Wooden planks, iron supports, and severed limbs rained down onto the warehouse floor in a gruesome shower.
Lloyd barely managed to leap free, tumbling awkwardly across the lower floor, his face scratched and bleeding. He looked up, trembling, only to find Leornars standing directly over him, the dark dagger resting gently against his throat.
"I'll ask one last time," Leornars whispered, his voice dropping into a deadly register that made Lloyd's soul shiver. "Where is he?"
"H-He... he went to the castle grounds!" Lloyd gasped, tears and sweat streaming down his face as he pressed himself as flat against the ground as possible. "He said... he said if the princess was killed by an insider, the real mastermind would be at the palace preparing for the banquet! He went to set an ambush for you!"
Leornars stared down at the trembling vice-captain for a long, silent moment. The voices in his head flared up again, whispering taunts, screaming for more blood, demanding complete annihilation.
*Pinch.*
Leornars squeezed the bridge of his nose, exhaling a heavy, dark mist.
"Predictable," Leornars muttered softly.
Without another word, he thrust the dagger downward, pinning Lloyd's neck straight to the stone floor. He didn't even bother to pull the weapon back out.
Stepping over the dying vice-captain, Leornars extended his hand toward the shadows pooling in the corners of the warehouse.
"Bellian. Ascian. Burn this place to the ground. Leave nothing for the city guards to inspect."
A low, deep growl echoed from the shadows as the towering inferno wolf, Ascian, materialized, its dark fur igniting with intense, hellish crimson flames. Beside it, Bellian bowed silently, raising his longsword as a dark magic circle expanded across the floor, consuming the corpses and structural beams in a roaring, silent blaze.
Leornars turned away, stepping out of the burning warehouse into the crisp night air. He looked up toward the looming silhouette of Lurtra Castle perched high upon the cliff, its grand windows lit with thousands of festive candles in preparation for the evening's royal banquet.
He reached into his inner domain, summoning a soft telepathic link to his chief retainer.
*"Stacian."*
Far away in the royal guest quarters, Stacian paused as she adjusted her formal earrings before a gilded mirror. A faint, wicked smile curved her lips as she heard his voice echoing in her mind.
*"My Lord. I take it the harbor rats have been swept away?"*
*"Cleaned out,"* Leornars replied, his body dissolving into a swift, dark streak as he launched himself toward the high streets at Mach 9. *"Their leader is waiting for us near the castle gardens. He thinks he's the predator setting an ambush."*
Stacian let out a soft, amused laugh, turning away from the mirror as her dark wings fluttered once behind her back. *"How delightfully arrogant of him. Shall I prepare the tea, or would you prefer I help you skin him before the king's grand arrival?"*
*"Let him watch the banquet start,"* Leornars' voice echoed coldly through the link as he breached the inner city walls unseen. *"I want him to realize that even in his wildest, blood-soaked dreams... he was never anything more than a guest at my table."*