Adrian rose from his bed. The weight of the malevolent presence he’d sensed pressed down on him to a suffocating degree. I can’t ignore this.

He slipped into his boots, tightening the laces. Then, he crossed the room quietly, each step deliberate and soft against the wooden floorboards.

Adrian eased the door open, wincing as it creaked ever so slightly. He paused, holding his breath and listening. The familiar sounds of the house filled his ears: the gentle crackling of embers in the hearth, Marcus’s low, rhythmic breathing from his room, and the faint rustle of Anisa turning in her sleep. Need to be careful not to wake them.

Years of practice had made him adept at moving quietly in the house, and he slipped past Marcus and Anisa’s rooms without being noticed. Good, just a bit more and I'm out.

Reaching the door, Adrian pressed his palm against the cool wood and turned the latch with excruciating care. The door swung open, revealing the dark sky, pierced by distant stars.

He stepped out, the crisp night air biting at his skin. The scent of dew-covered grass and earth filled his lungs, grounding him. Whatever’s out there, I need to face it.

Adrian moved through the night with silent determination, his senses alert for any sign of movement. He focused on the direction where he had felt the malevolent red core, weaving between trees and staying low to avoid drawing attention.

The air was crisp, biting against his skin, but the cold was a distant concern compared to what he might find. I can’t let this slip away.

Halfway to his destination, he paused in the shadow of a weathered oak tree, his breath misting in the night air. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his senses again, reaching for the dark presence.

There, it pulsed, colder and more intense than before. The red core had moved, but only slightly. It was still within reach, lurking somewhere ahead. Whatever you’re doing, I’m coming.

He pressed on, the buildings around him growing older, more dilapidated with each step. The worn cobblestones beneath his feet gave way to patches of cracked dirt and overgrown weeds.

This part of Willowbrook was rarely traveled, a forgotten place where few people would bother going to. Adrian slipped past boarded-up windows and crumbling walls, every muscle taut with anticipation. There's something rotten nearby.

When Adrian rounded a corner, he caught sight of movement up ahead and instinctively ducked behind a crumbling stone wall. Peering around it, his eyes widened.

He spotted a ragged group of bandits, eyes glinting with cold malice as they gripped their weapons. Flickering torchlight cast jagged shadows across the clearing, illuminating iron chains that dragged and clinked against the dirt. Behind those chains were prisoners, huddled together, filthy and trembling.

But it was the figure standing opposite the bandits that rooted Adrian in place, sending a cold shock down his spine. Draped in a red hooded cloak, the figure’s face was hidden behind a mask streaked with dark trails of what appeared to be blood, gleaming under the torchlight like tears of crimson sorrow.

Adrian’s breath caught painfully in his throat, the world narrowing around that horrific sight. That mask… no. It can’t be.

Memories tore through him. He could still feel the helplessness, the scent of burning wood mingling with the stench of death.

It was the same mask. The ones who had taken everything away Seven and Sister Selena. Rage coiled like a serpent in his chest, tightening with every heartbeat. You and whatever accursed organization you work for will pay.

Adrian pressed himself tightly against the rough stone wall, forcing his breath to slow, though each inhalation felt like a struggle against the fury clawing at him.

The bandits muttered among themselves,. “Ain’t nobody comin’ for these lot, might as well make it interestin’.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Another chuckled darkly, his grip tightening around a rusted blade. “Reckon we could have some fun, Garron. Break ‘em a bit more.”

The hooded figure lifted a hand, the movement precise and commanding. “Enough, your lack of discipline delayed things enough as is."

The first bandit, Garron, shifted uncomfortably. “We did what we was told. Took everythin’ like you said.”

The figure stepped forward like a serpent poised to strike. “Perhaps you need reminding of what happens to those who disappoint me.”

Garron swallowed, his bravado crumbling. “N-no, m’lord. We’ll… we’ll do better. I swear it.”

Meanwhile, Adrian forced himself to breathe, every instinct screaming at him to act, to strike. No, I need to make preparations first.

Adrian closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath as he called upon the fire within him. Energy surged through his veins, rushing like a tidal wave. He focused, channeling the power into something tangible, something fierce.

Blue flames flickered to life around him, first a faint shimmer, then a roaring aura. The air grew hot, crackling with the intensity of his power. Above his head, a halo of bluish fire ignited, casting light that danced against the decaying walls. No more waiting.

When he opened his eyes, they glowed with the fire’s inner light. The bandits had already noticed him, expressions twisting from surprise to wary fear. Blades scraped against leather as they drew their weapons, forming a rough semicircle around him.

The masked figure, however, stood perfectly still, their blood-crying mask tilted slightly, as if assessing him. Adrian lunged forward, feet barely touching the ground.

In an instant, he was upon the masked figure, his fist driving forward with all the force of his momentum. Flames flared along his knuckles as he struck, hitting the figure square in the stomach. The impact drove the figure back with a sickening crunch, slamming them against the stone wall with enough force to leave cracks in the aged mortar.

“You're not getting away,” Adrian hissed. The masked figure slumped, but there was no time to linger.

The bandits charged, with the first swinging a heavy blade, aiming for his neck. Adrian ducked, his aura of flames flaring brighter. He drove his elbow into the man’s ribs, hearing the unmistakable crack of bone. Before the bandit could scream, Adrian spun, his leg sweeping out to knock another off his feet. Blue fire licked across the ground, burning the fool without mercy.

A third bandit lunged with a short sword. Adrian caught the blade with a flaming hand, the metal hissing and glowing red before it shattered. He thrust his other hand forward, sending a wave of fire that engulfed the attacker, reducing him to nothing more than a charred silhouette.

Two more bandits remained. They hesitated, their eyes wide with fear. One made the mistake of trying to flee, but Adrian’s fire reached him first, a streak of blue that sent him sprawling.

The last one raised his sword in a trembling grip. Adrian advanced slowly, until the man dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, begging for mercy. "P-please, I got nothin' to do with these people, I—

Adrian’s eyes softened only slightly. "Run, and never let me see you again."

The man scrambled away, disappearing into the shadows. With that settled, Adrian turned back to the masked figure, who was now struggling to rise.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, and one gloved hand clutched their side where Adrian’s punch had landed. The once-imposing red cloak was tattered, streaked with dust and blood.

Adrian walked closer to the masked figure. "You're going to answer a few questions of mine, or else."

The masked figure's breaths came out as ragged, rasping gasps, but a low, mocking laugh bubbled up from beneath the blood-streaked mask. “Questions? There’s not a chance I’d speak to you, outsider."

Adrian’s jaw clenched. He ripped off the mask with a swift, forceful motion, revealing a face twisted with fanaticism.

The man beneath was gaunt, his eyes sunken and wild, like a flame on the verge of burning out. Strands of unkempt hair clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, and his lips twisted into a grotesque smile. What a sick bastard.

“What do you see?” the man taunted, his voice cracking with mad glee.

Adrian punched him in the chest, slamming him back against the rough stone wall. Dust and debris fell from the impact. “I see a dead man."

The man’s smile widened, his teeth yellowed and cracked. “Well, well, well, so do I.”

Before Adrian could react, a sudden, searing glow erupted from the man’s body. Red light pulsed beneath his skin, veins illuminated with the malevolent energy coursing through him.

Adrian’s instincts screamed at him to run. “What—”

The man’s body contorted, his limbs jerking violently as if possessed by unseen forces. The glow intensified, blazing brighter than any torch, casting deep shadows that danced and twisted around them. Energy crackled in the air, making the hairs on Adrian’s neck stand on end. A suicide spell. Of course.

Adrian barely made it a few steps before an explosion erupted behind him. The blast wave hit him like a charging beast, hurling him forward with brutal force. He crashed into the ground, his vision swimming as shards of burning debris rained down around him. The roar of the explosion filled his ears, drowning out everything else. Heat seared his skin, and the air was heavy with the stench of burning wood and scorched soil.