Arcane Sentinel had been searching for Guardian Prime for weeks. The recruit had built a reputation amongst the more shadowy groups. Even with Arcane’s formidable sorcery, Prime had remained elusive—until now. His stealth, it seemed, was unparalleled.

Arcane assured the president he had finally located Guardian Prime, and it wasn’t a lie. Arcane never lied. He lived by a code of honour, one forged in the harsh, class-bound world of sorcery where status determined success. Taught and raised in Grimspire Hollow in Ireland, Arcane had clawed his way to power, his raw talent outpacing even the privileged few. Still, he had never been the top student. The system had made sure of that.

Now, aboard a private plane speeding toward England, Arcane reflected on the urgency of his mission. John Strike, his superior, had summoned him personally. The threat they faced was dire enough to need Prime's lethal skills.

As the plane cut through the skies over the Atlantic, Arcane’s mind drifted. He remembered his last crystal-glazing session: the sorcerer's vision had gone black—a sign that there was nothing left to see.

Through the window, Arcane spotted a whale breaching the ocean’s surface, its spray catching the sunlight. It lingered there, almost watching him. For a moment, Arcane could’ve sworn the creature smirked. He was not one prone to hallucination, but these were strange times.

“How long until we land?” Arcane asked the co-pilot, stepping into the cockpit.

“We’re approaching now,” came the reply. The islands of Europe loomed ahead, the plane beginning its descent.

Arcane returned to the cabin where four U.S. soldiers sat, rifles across their laps. They eyed him warily. “Wait here,” he said, folding a map into his pocket. “I’ll bring him.”

One of the soldiers scoffed. “Why are we even here, then?”

Arcane didn’t answer.

As they decreased in altitude, Arcane saw a large building, and they were approaching it fast. They were going to land on the roof. Since this wasn’t an officially documented plane journey, they couldn’t go to an airport. The plane was hence a small one, so it could land on top of a durable building.

They had nothing to fear of being seen - Arcane’s sorcery made the plane invisible. When they did land, however, and Arcane stepped out, it was rather odd to see him appear seemingly from nowhere onto a roof. But the only one to see this spectacle was a young boy through a window of an adjacent building, and children do have wild imaginations.

Guardian Prime’s last known location was a few minutes’ walk from the building.

The only way down from here was to jump onto a nearby street lamp and slide down. Athleticism was not Arcane’s strong point, so he rubbed some runes on his belt and muttered incantations.

With his eyes closed, he walked forward, and stepped off the roof. Rather than fall, he drifted downward like a leaf on the wind, his robes rippling as he landed softly in the alley below.

The cold night wrapped around him as he adjusted his cloak to conceal the faint glow of his runes.

For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to live as a simple human without powers. A civilian rather than a hero. To walk the streets without the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders. As he kept to the shadows, he thought of what it was truly like to be anonymous, with no enemies plotting his death, no immense powers threatening to unravel everything he held dear. It was a fleeting thought, interrupted by movement in the shadows.

A dark silhouette darted between the buildings, so swift that it was almost a blur. Arcane caught the faint sound of footsteps, someone running. He followed at a distance, his heart pounding—not from fear, but exertion. Prime was known for his stealth, but this was a different kind of evasion. Whoever this was, they were running from something. But what?

To his left, a man stumbled into view, glancing over his shoulder in terror. His face was pale, his breath ragged. Arcane kept to the shadows, watching as the man turned into a narrow alley. His pursuer followed—a figure cloaked in black, wearing heavy armour that barely made a sound as it moved.

Arcane followed at a distance, the physical activity causing him to sweat. Perhaps bringing the officials would have been beneficial - but if they were spotted that would cause issues for the president. Not that Arcane cared, but he respected John, and John cared.

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Arcane stopped, catching his breath. This had to be Prime, the infamous mercenary. But something was wrong. From the rumours, Guardian Prime only accepted contracts to kill powerful targets, not civilians.

He saw a flicker up above. Within an instant it was gone.

And in its place was a scream. Arcane ran as quickly as he could. Eventually he reached an unsettling scene.

A man, sweating even more than Arcane, but from fear, had his back bent forward. He was looking at the black-clad figure.

The assassin’s steps slowed, savouring the man’s terror. He knelt beside his victim, his twin katana glinting in the moonlight. Arcane felt a pang of disgust. Whatever the man had done, this execution seemed... excessive.

The man collapsed to his knees, gasping. “Please!” he begged. “I have children.”

He thought to intervene, especially as he thought of his own son losing him. But that was not his job. He was here to collect Guardian Prime and that was all. And besides, the man may have deserved to be killed. Arcane had no knowledge of the things he had done.

The masked mercenary walked forward, each step intentionally slow,sending a shiver down the man’s spine.

He knelt down and the man looked up. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

But with one strike, it was gone.

Blood pooled beneath the body, and Arcane clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay composed. He stepped forward, allowing the glow of his runes to catch the assassin’s attention.

Guardian Prime rose to his feet, swords at the ready. “Who are you?” His voice was deep, distorted by the mask.

This was unlike anything he’d seen before. Police, government officials, even other assassins had confronted him before. But what was this?

Arcane closed the distance between them, his chest nearly touching the tip of Prime’s blade. “My name is Arcane Sentinel,” he said calmly. “There’s a threat facing the United States, and I have come to ask for your help. This threat is unlike anything we have seen before. It could spill across the world if not stopped.”

There was a pause as Arcane waited for a response. When there was none, he continued.

“You have built quite a reputation for yourself, Guardian Prime, and your swordsmanship will prove invaluable to us.”

Even through his mask, Arcane could hear him snorting as he retorted, “Compliments won’t win me over.” He remained in his defensive stance. “Who are you really?”

Arcane’s eyes glinted beneath his hood. He knew what he meant. “What I am, is a sorcerer,” he said.

Prime’s blades lowered slightly, but only for a moment. His scepticism was palpable, but so was his intrigue.

Arcane continued. “And the threat we face is dangerous. A being, an entity of sorts, resides beneath American soil, and it plans to attack. Our military is no match for it, and neither is my current team. We need someone like you. Rather than preying upon the weak and defenceless,”he gestured to the slain man, “We want you to use your power for good. Give yourself a challenge, Prime, a worthy opponent.”

Prime laughed, though there was no humour in it. “I don’t fight for nations or causes. I fight for myself.”

Without warning, he struck. But Arcane was faster. His central rune flared, and Prime froze mid-swing. His arms locked in place, though the rest of his body remained free. Panic flashed in Prime’s eyes for the first time.

They remained like this for a few seconds until Prime said through clenched teeth, “Okay, okay. You win.”

Arcane whispered another incantation, and Prime’s arms relaxed, his swords dropping to his sides.

That was a close one, thought Arcane. Guardian Prime really was quick, faster than any other melee combatter he had faced before. He’d be a great addition to the team. It was a shame Arcane couldn’t witness his skill in battle, but that was for John to judge, and John had already thought it exceeded any expectations.

The mercenary, though, was stunned. No one had ever bested him in such a way. Perhaps this sorcerer was onto something after all.

But he would not show submission. “I have no reason to help you or that pathetic Prescott.”

If he thought that would offend Arcane, he was utterly wrong.

But his demeanour did change.

“I am not asking for your compliance, I am demanding it!” His voice was suddenly deeper and his eyes more fierce.

Prime had his head held high. At last, he said, “I am only going for worthy opponents. Whether they're underground, Americans or,” he smirked, “Government officials. I’m only in it for the challenge.”

He walked away from Arcane, so they weren’t too close, “It’s getting boring here. Let the Americans know my name. My name will be feared everywhere I go.”

Arcane had no time for dramatics. He did not care what Guardian Prime did, as long as he helped them face the entity.

“That’s all I need from you,” he nodded, “follow me.” He turned to make his way back to the plane. Guardian Prime didn’t follow.

Arcane looked back to see him crouched over the dead man. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Prime had the decapitated head in his left hand, and in his right were two miniature katanas, identical to those now in his sheaths. They were attached to each other in the middle, forming an X shape, and at the end of each blade was a black ribbon.

He stabbed them onto his victim’s forehead. The ribbons fluttered in the soft wind - one labelled “Guardian”, and the other “Prime”. It was his signature mark, to strike fear into his enemies.

“There we go! Now I need to get my money.”

Arcane stared at him with a stern expression. “Whoever sent you to kill this man can keep his filthy blood money. Follow me,” he ordered.

As Guardian Prime walked behind Arcane, he said, “For your information, this specific mission was a weak man. But most are skilled fighters, or those who have done unspeakable crimes.”

“And what was his crime?” Arcane asked.

Guardian Prime actually hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I wasn’t told.”

Arcane turned sharply towards Guardian Prime. “So you just kill for a price? That is all you are, a worshipper of money?” he roared, his blood boiling at the thought of innocent blood being shed.

He turned briskly on his heels and quickened his pace, wanting to rid himself of the immoral assassin who was going to be his teammate.

Guardian Prime, with his head hanging low, followed silently.