[False Freedom]

The depressive storm cried out its tears and soaked Zariff. The clouds blocked out the moon, but the lamp posts of the street provided him with shadows in the alleyways, though he did not need it right now. The structures next to him were all made out of bricks or concrete and were about two stories high: perfect for climbing.

He sighed, “Dear Al Whit. Please free me from this torment.” As he gazed into the sky, he quoted, “The beloved White God hides above the clouds so that we may never notice its laughter.”

A metaphor he had learnt from the book called “The Caged Slave,” yet it resonated with him all too well.

“Must you always talk like that?” the masculine voice in his head said.

“Does a stray learn how to live from their trainer?”

“No, but that does not mean you have to speak so melodramatically.”

“That does have some truth to it, but it is my way of easing the pain,”

“Do something else! Blasted idiot, you sicken me.”

“Fine.”

Zariff took a stroll upstreet. Though they were empty thankfully; otherwise he would have gained attention just from wearing his current attire. Soon after, he caught a glimpse of lazily dressed Greyskins, all armed with guns, surrounding Sajar’s Electrical Repair Company. Sareel must have predicted that assassins would come for his life.

Little did he know that The Black Liberator was coming for his life…soon. Though Zariff could not just walk through the entrance, it would only cause a commotion. So he retreated into a nearby alleyway to avoid attracting any attention while he waited for his superiors to give him the signal.

“Or you could just shred through them and fight your way to the boss.”

“Unnecessary bloodshed is not why I am here. My only goal is to kill the leader of the Savage Dogs, everything else is collateral.”

“You might be worse than me.”

“I disagree.”

“Would you kill a baby if it meant saving the world?”

“One life for billions, the baby would die either way.”

“I would find another way to save the world.”

“But you just said that you needed to kill the baby to save the world, how else would you save the world if you refused to follow your own rules?”

“I never said killing the baby was the only way to save the world.”

Zariff sighed. It took a toll on him when the voice would always break its own rules. He doubted there would ever be a time when he would be needed to save the world, so there was no point in arguing.

Crack

Zariff heard the sound of a gunshot echoing from a long distance away.

Not a second later, multiple other gunshots followed without stopping. A gang war must have been instigated, that was most definitely the signal given to him by his associates in team three.

“That sounds like fun”

“Now we can go.”

The further he walked down the alleyway, the less light there was. He only stopped when no light at all touched his skin, which allowed Shadow Blink to work. After observing his surroundings, he only noticed drunken Albanem Whiteskins that tainted their white clothing while sleeping with the homeless people. Then he reverted his attention to the two-story building in front of him.

“Ha, those without homes sleep outdoors, such a human concept.”

What the hell is he talking about now?

Zariff leapt up, reaching a great distance and at least halfway to his destination. Slowly, gravity began to drag him down, but before it did, dark energy swiftly wrapped itself over everything but his eyes. He blinked. When his eyes opened, he found himself further up. High enough to grab onto the roof of the building, while the shadows that carried him were fading.

Luckily for him, there were no Watch Dogs on the rooftop, so he climbed over. After he would drop to the ground on his back and breathe in any Seeran to recharge himself. He only managed all of this with Shadow Blink, which allowed him to wrap himself in a dark energy called Aneran and then teleport a distance—depending on how much Seeran he uses—when he blinks. It was hard to get used to it.

“Are you ready to do it again?”

“Almost.”

Zariff pulled a vicious purple substance out of his violet flame-printed mark seared onto his left palm with a strange symbol he could not read. It slowly shaped itself to form an object, taking the form of a straight thin singled-edged blade. The rest of it moulded into a small rectangular guard, a grey leather grip, and a small pommel. It was a sword called an Alart—the perfect weapon for a “hero” such as himself.

He covered his blonde hair with his black hooded cloak while keeping his face hidden with his white mask with horizontal golden stripes at the sides of it. Justice was written in white on the back of his cloak. A meaning that he shall honour today. After moving to the back of the roof, he sprinted towards the front, feeling like a blur in the raging winds, flowing swiftly to a direction, moving faster than the average human.

He leapt off from the edge, crossing a long distance across the street and he could even feel the wind fighting against his body. Yet it was not enough to pass through the street. He blinked, using Shadow Blink again to cover the missing space, and this time, managed to land safely on the roof of the building in front of him.

His sudden landing had alerted the Savage Dogs—which he could identify by their grey emblems of a dog with blood dripping from its mouth imprinted onto all of their clothing—on the roof. They all began surrounding him while aiming their guns at him. All of them bore the violent dog emblem.

A smaller Albanem with a craggy face called out to him, “You! Blackskin! What sort of business do you think you have here?”

The one-eyed Albanem next to him said, “Did he just climb the building?”

The brown-haired Franem behind him commented, “I think he just jumped across from that building over there.”

Their white irises were illuminated by the moon, lacking a pupil and only separated from the rest of the eye with a thin grey line. There was barely any distinction between them other than the shape of the eyes. Same as everyone else in Alban, empty and without personality. He despised that.

Zariff ignited his blade with violet flames called Atra. Blazing wildly as if it were begging to be released. So he granted its wish. He swung his Alart through the air, spraying the violent dark fire at a wide arc that burnt half of the Savage Dogs in front of him. An Atra Slash.

The flames that contacted their skin dissolved into purple acid that kept spreading out and melting deeper into them. They hopelessly struggled to extinguish the Atra, but it was useless. All they could do was hope that the Aneran ran out before it reached their organs.

He ignored their irritating cries and rushed to one of the remaining threats. There he had found the same Albanem that called him a Blackskin unharmed. He grabbed him by the nape of his neck, and threw him at one of the other, currently dazed, Savage Dogs. The sound of bullets echoing out of their guns assaulted his ears, so he sprinted swiftly, feeling the air trails of the bullets passing right by him. None had hit, luckily.

The force of the momentum that he built up by running insanely fast allowed him to punch one of the Savage Dogs off of the roof. Zariff ran right to obtain cover behind an air ventilation machine near the roof’s edge, blasting one of the grunts with another Atra slash and hacking through the other in his way.

Then he felt a bullet strike at his back which dented his invisible shield made out of Seeran. Feren as it was called. He turned around to see a timid young boy—most likely of the age of sixteen—with a handgun, shrieking in fear as if he had seen a demon.

“Oh Al Whit help me… I shot a bullet at his back and it bounced right off! Is he wearing Albastar steel!?” he cried, shaking out of terror.

“Servants! Get in there! This guy is bulletproof,” a rough voice said.

The boy was about to pull the trigger again, so Zariff retaliated by thrusting his blade forward in the air—discharging a quick and small concentrated Atra flame aimed at the boy’s face. An Atra Thrust, the second Atra ability out of three. As it struck him, the boy fell to the ground in pain, crying loudly. But, after a while, he just stopped moving after it dug into the boy’s head and exposed the brain.

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“You would kill a child?”

“It’s him or me. If a child that knows how to fire a gun, aims it at you and fires it at you, then they are no longer a child, they’re an enemy.”

Zariff’s breathing was heavy, but he continued doing so to absorb the Seeran in the shadows provided to him by the cover. He was in no position to take another bullet. His only advantage was that they foolishly believed that he was wearing a luxury such as Albastar steel armour—something that was only given to the high-ranking warriors in society.

The Savage Dogs came charging at him wielding knives and blades rather than guns but were easily cut down like sheep as he charged forward. Then Zariff saw a ball of fire flying to his head. He sliced it in half by using his Alart which he had extended the length of using Atra Energy. This was the last of his three Atra abilities called Atra Blade Extension.

“Boys! Load him up with bullets! It’s only a Vessel, he can’t block bullets forever.”

“Isn’t that worse?”

“Just keep shooting!!”

Words he did not wish to hear. Out in the open with no cover, what more could he do?

I’ll fight till I die. He thought to himself.

He did not halt his advance, nor did he hesitate in his charge. He only ran. Slashing through the Savage Dogs in his way while simultaneously breathing awkwardly. In his rampage, he met face-to-face with the Servant that exposed his advantage; he was swiftly cut down by Zariff’s Alart.

Zariff had slaughtered many of them, with only two remaining. The one in front of him was a Servant with three fireballs—black spheres with fire coating all over them—looping around him. The Servant launched two of them, but Zariff had easily slid under them and quickly recovered, then his enemy threw the last fireball.

Zariff was prepared to cut through the fireball along with the Servant. But then he heard the sound of a bullet crack. Not a second after, he felt something strike his Feren at the abdomen, reaping him of any Seeran needed to use his abilities. Yet he still had no reason to feel fear.

Zariff quickly dropped to the floor, dodging both the last fireball and bullets that flew right over his body. Quickly, he recovered to his knees and threw his Alart at the Servant’s heart; piercing it easily. Then he turned to the last remaining Savage dog on the roof, whose hands shook in horror when reloading.

Unfortunately for him, Zariff had already reached in front of him. The Savage Dog pulled the trigger, but his gun was knocked out of his hand. Zariff slapped him with the back of his left hand and then grabbed the nape of the Savage dog. Finally, he smashed their face into the ground, tainting the ground with their blood. In the end, he let go of himself, falling while breathing heavily.

“Well done, you managed to kill them all by yourself. Your teacher will be proud.”

“Save it.”

“I wanted to ask you something though. Why do you call each other such things like Greyskin and Blackskin when you’re all the same light skin colour?”

“Not the time.”

“When is the time?”

“When I am done.”

The blood of those he had massacred stained his clothing. He had lost control of his breathing and his mind spiralled into a mess. He could feel something coming out of his throat, and tried to hold it back, but ended up throwing up anyway. He did not mean to kill so many, nor had he wanted to kill a young boy.

They deserved it. They chose this line of work so they should’ve expected this would happen. They should be ready to die at any time, what makes this any different?

He turned his focus to his weapons currently buried in the body of his victim. Zariff walked up to the corpse of the Servant and reclaimed his Alart from the dead body. Taking out a clean white cloth and using it to clean the blood off.

He slowly breathed in the Aneran. If the information on the pig was right, then he should be slacking in his office on the fifth floor. He should be able to find him by looking around the glass windows. All he had to do now was find and eliminate Sareel.

“Does this save people somehow?”

“It will improve their lives in the long term.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Cairi assured me of this. I would trust that woman with my life and even abandon the thought of freedom.”

“What a fool you are.”

His mockery only served to motivate Zariff even more. He began darting towards the seven-story high electrical repair company, leaping across the street as he reached the edge, but still failed to make it over. Once again, he used Shadow Blink to cross the distance he had been unable to achieve before.

Teleporting himself at one of the clear glass panels. With his feet connected to a glass plate, he activated Shadow Walk, coating his feet in black that wrapped around his feet, attaching itself to the surface of the window. This only worked when light did not shine on his feet.

After slowly climbing up using the dark rooms and avoiding the lit ones, he managed to find his target alone and undefended. Sareel Holmand, the leader of the Savage Dogs wore a white suit when he was only of fourth rank—in all honesty, it was not his fault for being in such a low rank, but he did deserve it regardless.

Although he could not see his face from where he was now, he knew from the pictures that Sareel had a very punchable face with a big nose and a short jaw. His light brown hair was even balding at the sides and his body was slim but very unfit.

But then suddenly, a fireball materialised over Sareel’s head.

“So he was awake and waiting for me?”

“Of course, he would be, you were walking on glass, you idiot.”

The fireball ball flew to the glass, shattering it to pieces. Regardless, Zariff kept his cool. Darkness wrapped around him and he used his Shadow Blink to teleport into the room through the broken window while Sareel continued summoning fireballs even when he was seated. Zariff swung down his Alart at the still target, forcing Sareel to jump off of his luxurious chair as it was cut in half.

“He can only make a fire orb every second. And I expect you to pay me back with some information.”

“Fine!”

The last two fireballs were both sliced in half by his Atra-enhanced blade, though it was not one of his techniques. This caused the fireballs to explode and spray out, which burned his hands. Holding in the pain without a cry. Zariff charged at the man while he had a chance. However, Sareel quickly retreated out of the room before he caught up to him and was stunned when he was assaulted with light coming out through the door.

He hesitated but still chose to rush out of the room and chased after Sareel through the hallways. Zariff was blinded by the sudden intake of light in his retina, but that was not enough to stop him from gaining ground between them. Both were Vessels, but he was the faster of the two.

“Savages and Servants! Help out your leader!” Sareel called.

One of the doors to his right had been opened right in front of him. A man in grey office attire holding a handgun walked out of there. He needed the weapon so he slowed down to lob off the hand of the holder, caught the gun, and resumed his pace.

When he saw any of the doors opening, he would use the gun to fire at any underlings of Sareel’s. He would not let anyone stop his chase. But then he heard the sound of bullets cracking behind his back and saw lead flying past him. He had to get out now before he ended up dead.

When it ran out of ammo, he dropped the handgun and quickened his speed.

“How will you get out of this one?”

Sareel had stopped near a glass panel to open the door to his left, probably leading to the stairs, but Zariff needed this. So he sprinted across the hallways like a blur, focused on only one thing. He tackled Sareel, taking him out through the glass and off of the building—shards of glass scratching at his own Feren. It was still better not getting shot.

“Are you out of your mind!?”

“Yes!”

Sareel kicked Zariff off of his body, pushing him towards one of the building’s concrete floors. He slammed into it and then soon after resumed falling until he finally crashed onto the ground, leaving cracks near the impact. However, he was unharmed by the fall. When he stood up to observe his surroundings, he noticed several dead bodies around him. Even more disconcerting than this was a group of Savage Dogs all aiding their leader.

“Do you mind losing some of your sanity for a while?”

“Why are you asking?”

On his left palm, he summoned a dark hole—that took the form of a small purple circle, oozing out strange purple particles that looped in the glowing purple aura around it. One of his two last trump cards, but this one would slowly tick away at his Seeran so he needed to act fast.

He charged it with some Void Energy, making the hole glow in a dark purple colour.

“Hey! What the hell is that?” one of the thugs yelled.

“Eye of the Voidfather! Awaken and take my left eye!” Zariff incited the dark void hole ritual on his left hand. He would soon feel his left eye mutating into something else, so he kept it closed.

Inside the dark hole, grew an eye with a purple iris. It glowed brightly, with black strings of particles seeping out of it. He directed it at the enemies in front of him, letting it suck their souls into the void, leaving behind their lifeless bodies. The remaining ones tried firing bullets at it, but that too was siphoned into the void. It still would not take the souls of Servants and Vessel so he dispelled the dark hole.

There were three Servants left who summoned their fireballs and threw them at him, though Zariff would still dodge them even while he was low on Seeran. He was still left with one option. He needed to use his mastery. Swordsman's Last Endeavor would scramble his ability to use commands so he saw no worth in using it most of the time.

But, by using the Seeran he absorbed into the blade, he would activate one last ability. Zariff would send out a supercharged Atra Slash, faster and stronger than normal that disintegrated the weaker fireballs and wiped out the remaining Servants by dissolving into their skin.

And with that, the last threat was gone and there was no longer anyone else to disturb him on his mission. He walked up to see a bleeding Sareel, still breathing. Losing a Feren was fatal for a Vessel. Once lost, they could only breathe in the air and hope they somehow absorb more Seeran needed to save them. A pitiable state fitting of a pig such as Sareel.

“Another one defeated. Anything left to say to the victor?”

“Bite your tongue…” he bled out. Zariff’s blade was stained by many, yet it did not pierce through Sareel. The fall killed Sareel, not Zariff.

“The next kill… will be faster and cleaner…” he felt a little dizzy after losing his left eye to the void father again. Receiving it back has always been the worst part of it, causing things such as splitting heads, internal bleeding, and more. But before he left, he dug into the dead man’s corpse looking for any items worth retrieving for the government.

“Looking through a corpse like a savage, oddly fitting of one crying about being left to rot in a cage.”

“What the hell?”

Zariff found a transparent pink crystal that illuminated light reflected by the moon. He could even see that it had a tiny black sphere stuck inside the center. Ferolix were usually used by the maniacal Ferolcallers who would destroy cities for their so-called “god” of despair. To find one here meant that there were more of them around Silar which also meant that it was on their list of places to destroy.

“This is very bad, I need to warn the others.”

“Keep the crystal hidden.”

“What? Why would you say such a thing?”

“You should not trust your higher-ups to have the responsibility not to abuse that thing. You can’t expect decency from people like them.”

He was right. They were not the most trustworthy people in the world and would likely use the crystal as a weapon. Especially the councilman. He could not allow that to transpire. If not for the people, then for the place he can still call home.

The council? The Ferolcallers? Two sides of the same coin. Two enemies I must destroy for my freedom. If not now then soon. I swear it on Al Whit’s name.