With the enchanted mask suppressing his breathing, the house fell eerily silent; the shadows became claustrophobic, clinging to the room tightly. As the ominous darkness crept closer, he stepped back.

A groan from the floorboards beneath his step incurred the wrath of the unknown once again as a sharp wind hissed by his skin. It came too fast; he wasn’t able to see anything strike as a warm sensation primed itself against his cheek.

A slash against his cheek; shallow, but worrying–even through the camouflage of his cowl, he was struck. The perplexing enemy that loomed within the room forced him to move as he dashed past the doorway into the hall.

‘--I have to move! The door! I need to–’ He thought.

As he rushed down the corridor towards the front door, hope was suffocated as he witnessed the overbearing shadows condense at the entrance, engulfing the doorway completely. He attempted to reach past the veil of darkness to grab the door knob, sinking his hand into the abyssal blanket.

“--!”

An unbelievably bitter coldness enveloped his hand, feeling as though there wasn’t a glove worn; like a thousand needles pricking his skin, coursing the frost over his pores. He immediately withdrew his hand from the darkness, backing away as he looked at it.

There wasn’t any ice on the leather, as if it was an experience secluded to just himself. Either way, he knew that the shadows that guarded the escape from his own home were not to be trifled with.

‘...This swallowing darkness…I’ve heard about it before…Are you kidding me? This has to be some kind of sick joke,’ he began to remember.

It was difficult to see even a step around him as he glanced around, witnessing the shadows move and vibrate; out of the corner of his eye, he swore he could see a silhouette moving within the darkness, yet never able to catch them.

‘This is the work of a Blessing…darkness…It’s Erebus. The person waiting here–who’s been waiting here–is part of that group: “The Fangs of The First Dusk.” I always thought rumors about that organization were tall tales, but I guess not,’ he thought.

Lifting the cowl from his face, he caught his breath quickly before pulling it back down. That single second that he became visible was enough for the unseen enemy to find him, as he immediately felt a sharp pain at his side.

‘Shit–’ He thought, having to hold in his wince.

A slash had caught his side, nicking him as he managed to somewhat step out of the way. Before he could see who struck him, the silhouette in the corner of his eye had already sunk back into the darkness.

‘This is how the assassins of the First Dusk operate; they lock down an enclosed location in their special darkness and strike down their target. It’s one thing to read about it, but another entirely to see it firsthand…’ He thought.

It didn’t take a genius to realize what kind of disadvantage he was at. The interior was completely engulfed in the ominous darkness; the natural territory of the assassin. Worst of all, the young man’s body was still recovering, his muscles stiff and sore with his mind being foggy.

‘I can’t stay here–he knows I’m in the hall,’ he thought.

As blood squeezed from the cuts on his body, with haste he rushed back into his own room, settling for the corner as he faced the doorway with his back against the wall.

The first idea that came to mind was bringing himself to a place where the angles at which the enemy could strike were limited, bringing him to where he was now.

‘He will have to come through that doorway–I’ll be able to see him,’ he planned.

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A part of him considered making a quick escape through the trapdoor in the room, though it was almost certainly an option that would result in instantaneous death. As he stood there, lifting the enchanted mask from his head, breath filled his lungs once more, accompanied by a startling realization.

‘...This assassin…Was he also sent to kill Uncle?’ He questioned.

Finding this revelation in his mind, the fear in his body was now accompanied by a heat; a warmth that was born from a torrent of emotions, most notably–anger. He scraped his finger against his cheek, using his thumb as he felt the cut before looking at the fresh blood that stained his glove.

‘I’m lucky. The man I need to kill is right here. I’ll get rid of him then Frederick is next…You’ll be able to rest then, Uncle,’ he resolved, clenching his glove as if the promise was made to his passed relative.

The will to triumph wasn’t enough on its own to win; he knew that he was still outmatched and cornered, though it wasn’t as if he was deprived of tools of his own. He reached into the sack on his belt, rummaging through it as he kept his eyes glued to the door across the room, watching the shuddering shadows.

‘If I can get rid of those shadows, it’ll expose him. That’s gotta be it–the assassin is using the darkness not just like a veil, but a perfect armor,’ he planned.

Retrieving a round, snow-white gemstone from the sack, a deep inhale was sucked into his lungs as sweat trickled down his cheek along with freshly-leaking blood. With his eyes on the shadow-filled hallway, he fell unaware of what was behind him; the darkness had condensed in that corner.

Only by a chill that crept along his spine did he glance over his shoulder, finding a harrowing sight: from the mass of the abyssal veil, a man reached out as if swimming through a black sea. The man was devoid of any notable features; dressed completely in black fabric with a mask of thin silk that clung to his face, leaving only the outlines of his nose and mouth.

“Wha–”

Bastian stumbled back, but it was a moment too late; the shadow-dwelling assassin had erupted from the seemingly shallow, yet boundless depths of darkness, lunging at him before plunging a blade into his shoulder.

Though he felt the unforgiving sharpness of the weapon penetrate his flesh, he countered with a desperate swing of his own dagger, the swift and silent figure dropped down. As if falling into an endless puddle, the featureless killer sank into the shadows, escaping the adventurer’s retaliation completely.

“Ngh…!” Bastian winced, looking around as he held his bleeding shoulder, finding that the blade used by the assassin dissipated into particles of darkness, “Come out, coward! You’re the one that killed him, didn’t you?!”

Of course, only silence followed his enraged accusation. He spun around, slashing at the darkness, though his blade cut only through air.

“Come out–!”

As he yelled out the provocation again, he stepped down, finding his boot not falling upon the solid planks of wood, but sinking through into a cold embrace. Looking down, he found that his right foot was completely engulfed in a puddle of darkness.

Before he could attempt to pull his leg free, as if hands tugged down from the unseen depths, he found himself yanked down into the shadows.

“Geugh–!”

There was nothing he could reach for as he flailed his arms around, being submerged through the puddle within a second. It didn’t simply bring him beneath the floorboards of the house, but to another place entirely; a sea of darkness–a void.

‘...This is…?’ He questioned.

Though it was a similar sensation to being submerged beneath water, unable to breathe and encumbered by an unseen mass around him, there was no moistness that fell upon his skin. Only a chilling frost gripped him, immediately setting in as he shivered.

He sank deeper, floating downward into the boundless void. Waving his arms around didn’t work, he couldn’t swim through the darkness, only falling deeper as he saw the gateway he was pulled through become more and more distant.

‘Can’t breathe. Can’t move. What do I do? Am I going to die?’ He questioned, feeling his heart rushing inside of his chest.

Somewhere, deep inside of him, a heat flickered within him; like embers stoked by stone clashing, building towards an awakened flame.

[“Envision it. The embodiment of the struggle we’ve endured. The sturdiness of your will, the strength of your resolve, the interlinked relationships that have made you who are you: the chain that binds you to who you are.”]

Those guiding words resonated through his mind, spoken in a soft voice; though he couldn’t pin a name to that voice, it felt vaguely familiar. Desperate as his life became a fleeting possession to himself, he focused entirely on the meaning that echoed through his soul.

‘The chain that binds me…Wait, I’m starting to remember…What happened before,’ he thought.