The building loomed in silence.
From above, it appeared almost lifeless—just another hollow structure swallowed by the district's decay.
But Enark knew better.
As he approached the building from a nearby roof, he crouched along the rooftop's edge, his weight balanced effortlessly as the wind moved past him. His head tilted slightly, listening to the dozen heartbeats below.
Some steady. Some erratic. One… weak.
He could distinguish them now without effort, separating each rhythm from the next as though they were threads woven into a single, tangled tapestry.
The guards.
And the same fragile rhythm he had memorized.
Eliot's mother.
He exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him in a controlled stream as his body settled, tension condensing rather than dispersing.
"…Alright." His voice barely rose above the wind. "Let's do this."
His posture lowered as he moved along the edge of the rooftop, fingers finding the smallest imperfections in the stone, feet aligning with edges barely visible even under the dim glow of distant lanternlight.
A narrow opening came into view along the upper level—a fractured section of the roof where time and neglect had begun to erode its integrity.
Enark paused just beneath it, pressing himself flat against the surface as he listened again.
Voices.
"…delivery came through already…"
"…boss said keep her alive—"
"…doesn't matter what state she's in—"
A faint shift of chains followed by a muffled cry.
Enark's fingers tightened slightly against the stone.
He lifted himself slowly.
Just enough to peer over the edge.
Inside—
Dim light flickered from scattered lanterns, casting long, uneven shadows across the interior of the building. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, some splintered, others barely holding their shape, while below, the room opened into a wide central space filled with movement.
Men moved inside, some armed and some not.
And toward the far end—a woman huddled in the corner.
"There she is," Enark stated. Already locked onto Eliot's mother.
Enark stepped back. "Whew...Okay, okay. I have to get her out safely, but..."
The thugs and guards below flashed in Enark's mind. "...Could I really do it?"
"The docks were only five people… but this is way more… way more than that, and they've got guns."
His hand hovered near his side.
Enark sighed. "Maybe I should've kept that nobleman's sword or taken one from grandpa's-" Then he shook his head quickly. "No—no, what am I even saying… If grandpa found out I took one of his swords, I'd be dead."
He turned back to the opening, and then his weight shifted forward.
"…Sword or not."
His voice lowered.
"I've got to get her out. I have to."
One hand reached for the edge—
"I just need to be quiet, if I take them down one at a time, maybe I can-"
And the instant his fingers curled around the fractured surface—
*Craack*
Enark's eyes narrowed under the blindfold.
"…Shit—"
*KRRRRRASH THOOOM —SHHHH*
For a moment, everything inside the building turned into noise and haze.
Enark didn't move at first.
He was half on his side, one arm buried in broken timber, the other splayed out against cracked stone. Dust clung to his blindfold, his hair, the edges of his clothes. A few splinters had even worked their way into his sleeve.
"…Ow."
It came out quieter than he expected.
But then--a chair scraped somewhere in the room.
That sound snapped everything back into motion.
"INTRUDER!!"
The shout hit him like a signal flare.
Enark pushed himself up too fast.
"Nghn—get up—get up—"
He staggered once as a beam slid off his shoulder and clattered to the ground beside him.
*WHSSHH*
"Whoa—!" A blade cut through the air where his head had been.
The man spun, bringing it back around.
"—Hah?!" Enark flinched backward, barely avoiding the follow-up swing.
*CLANG*
Another rush came in from his right, a reverse grip in their left hand. Without thinking, he stepped in as his hand caught the attacker's wrist in a desperate grab than technique.
The man reacted instantly—letting go the sword in his left hand, catching it in his other hand, and slashing toward Enark's side.
Enark reacted instinctively as the blade scraped past his ribs.
"—Tch!"
He drove his fist forward into the man's face.
*THUD*
The man folded with a grunt, stumbling back into another.
Enark sucked in a sharp breath—
*TSCHIK*
*TKK-TKK-TKK-TKK-TKK-TKK*
A woman screamed out in fear as a volley of bullets charged where he stood moments ago, tracking him as he bolted into another room.
Footsteps chased him immediately.
A second attacker followed him fast—along with the first attacker.
One closed the distance—
A jab connected square with Enark's jaw and he barely caught the follow-up strike—but the man twisted around him, locking an arm around his neck.
"—Ngh—!"
Then the first attacker rushed in. His blade raised preparing to cut him as he struggled to break free.
He noticed the swing late but managed to kick the man's knees, causing him to stumble---the blade still swinging toward him yet slightly off trajectory.
He raised his left arm instinctively to protect his face—
*SHHNK!*
Pain flashed hot along his arm as the blade cut through his left hand's pinky and ring finger.
"MFNNGHH—!"
He stifled the pain and channelled it into driving his elbow into the stomach of the man still choking him.
He drove his elbow back—once—
Twice—
Three—
Four—
Once he managed to get some space between their bodies, Enark slammed his head backward. He reeled as Enark twisted free and kicked him hard into a stack of crates.
Behind him, the other man thrust forward to pierce him.
But Enark shifted sideways just enough—as the blade narrowly missed.
He grabbed the man's arm—
Drove his knee up—
*CRACK*
—Snapping his arm in two.
"GAHHHH—!!"
The sword clattered to the floor.
Enark snatched it up and slowly walked over to him.
"You—who are—"
*SHHK*
The man dropped.
Footsteps rushed over to the door behind him but Enark managed to slam it shut.
*TKK-TKK-TKK-TKK-TKK-TKK*
Another volley of bullets ripped through the wood as the rest of the men shot at the room.
He ducked behind a stack of boxes as splinters exploded around him.
"Could they get any louder—?!" he muttered, covering one ear.
"COME OUT! OR ELSE WE'RE COMING IN!"
Enark clenched his jaw.
"This is going horribly bad... I can't fight them like this."
His grip tightened on the sword.
"I need—something… anything…"
*SWAY... creak...*
*SWAY... creak...*
Enark tilted his head toward the lantern above as it rocked gently.
Light dragged across the room.
And a smirk formed across his face.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside—
"On three."
Footsteps shifted.
"One—"
"Two—"
"Three—!"
The door burst open.
The instant they crossed the threshold—
Enark moved.
Not toward them—Up.
*SHING—!*
The blade cut through the chain.
*CLANG—CRASH—!*
The lantern dropped—shattering across the floor in a burst of glass and flame.
"—What the—?!"
*SHHK—!*
Another chain snapped.
*KRRASH—!*
"I can't see him—!"
"Spread out!"
"Watch the corners—!"
The last lantern swung overhead.
*SWANG… creak…*
The men turned as uneasiness crept into their bodies.
One of them raised his weapon.
"…Show yourself!"
The light caught him.
The sword hung loose in his hand.
"…You're not afraid of the dark…"
The lantern swung again—
light grazing his blindfold—
then—
Gone.
"…are you?"