Night came slow.
Too slow.
Even the holy city, draped in white light and polished stone, could not outrun the shadows.
Rain sat by the open window of his temporary room, the Saintess' white cloak folded neatly on the chair beside him. Outside, the streets were silent—too silent. The survivors of the Outer District had been escorted to safety. Guards patrolled at a leisurely pace, unaware that the real storm had already entered the city.
The air smelled faintly of lilies and burning incense.
Peaceful. Innocent. Deadly.
Rain traced a finger over the black circle branded on his left hand.
Rain.
It pulsed faintly, alive with the memories of every shadow he had claimed.
Twenty-five today.
Twenty-five obedient silhouettes waiting beneath the surface.
They were patient.
He was patient.
The cathedral bells tolled midnight, slow and sonorous.
DONG… DONG… DONG…
Each reverberation vibrated through the walls, through the streets, through his bones.
A rhythm only he could hear: the heartbeat of the city itself.
The shadows under his feet shifted.
Slithering like oil over stone, black tendrils coiling around each other, forming patterns invisible to mortal eyes.
Master… the city senses you.
Rain smiled faintly.
Good.
Let it feel me.
Let it tremble.
A soft peep came from the shadows—acknowledgment. They would move tonight.
Rain slid silently through the corridors of the city.
The wards of the First Layer and the Saintess Order's detection magic were strong, but he was stronger.
He reached the outer gate of a minor warehouse district, one of the city's forgotten veins.
Here, the smell of rot lingered, a trace left by abandoned merchants and careless necromantic experiments.
He crouched.
Shadows stretched out, tasting the darkness beyond the wards, finding a solitary target: a city guard making his rounds, oblivious, humming a prayer.
Rain extended a single finger.
Ssshhhk—!
A black tendril shot from his wrist, entwining the guard's shadow.
The man froze mid-step. His mouth opened, but no sound came.
The shadow gripped his soul, careful, precise, extracting and storing what Rain required.
Shadow Extraction — Rank E.
New addition: City Guard Shadow #1.
The guard collapsed silently. No alarm. No one noticed.
Just another shadow absorbed into the night.
Rain exhaled, stepping over the body.
Perfect.
A whisper of movement behind him.
Soft, deliberate.
He didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
Cecilia.
Her silver hair glimmered in the faint violet streetlight, cloak floating like liquid snow.
"Added: You move as though the city fears you," she murmured.
Her voice was calm, yet the slightest tremor betrayed her instinctive wariness.
Rain's expression stayed neutral, harmless.
He raised a hand in a lazy gesture, almost apologetic.
"Murmured: It does."
She stepped closer, eyes scanning the street, the shadows.
"You don't… eat innocents, do you?"
He tilted his head.
"Answered: Only the guilty. Only the necessary. Only those who would see others suffer tomorrow if left alive."
A pause.
Cecilia's gaze faltered.
The city seemed to lean closer, listening to their words.
Perfect.
Let her worry. Let her sense the monster beneath the boy-mask.
A scream ripped through the empty street—a pickpocket, foolish enough to snatch from a merchant's crate.
Rain didn't flinch.
He pointed.
SPLIT!
The shadows surged. Fingers of black reached into the world, invisible tendrils coiling around the thief's very essence.
The scream ended before it could echo twice.
When the tendrils retracted, they brought with them a perfect silhouette, kneeling before him.
Shadow Count: 26.
The shadows moved as one, forming a protective ring around him.
All of them: hungry.
Waiting for command.
Cecilia's eyes widened.
Her fingers brushed against her cross.
"Confessed: This… this is more than I imagined."
Rain looked at her, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Murmured: Only the beginning."
Hours passed unnoticed.
The city slept.
The wind whispered through shattered streets and rooftops, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood from the Outer District.
Rain returned to the cathedral just before dawn, moving through alleys and rooftops like a phantom.
Cecilia followed at a distance, silent.
Her eyes reflected the first pale rays of morning, catching on silver hair.
Rain paused at the cathedral steps.
The shadows beneath him melted into the stone, leaving no trace.
He turned to the city before him.
Silent. Safe. Fragile.
Mine for the night.
He inhaled, feeling the rhythm of a city that would never notice the predator beneath its feet.
"Added: Fifty minutes until the gates are patrolled again," he whispered to the shadows.
They stirred, eager, obedient.
Cecilia's voice floated behind him, soft.
"Questioned: Will you ever stop?"
Rain did not answer.
He only smiled, faint, fragile, empty—the smile that promised everything, and nothing at once.
The city slept.
The night remembered him.
The first hunt had begun.