Matty thought he reacted fast. He thought he had casted Coral Defence in time to block the attack. Hydroguard Aura, a Passive Skill bolstering his defence by 25 points, he assumed he made it. Upon contact, his shield shattered and an explosion ensued. His arm took the brunt of the attack yet that did not prevent the Roc from spiralling down in dark flames.

“H-hang on!” Jules tried to pull the Roc up but it was too late.

Crash! The large eagle fell head-first and Matty was flung into a pile of rubble that was once a house. He pulled himself up, accidentally gripping soft flesh too tightly, and hissed as the peeled skin on his arm was exposed to the hot air. The sensation was akin to someone knitting his burnt flesh and refusing to stop.

“Sing for me, Ibong Adarna!”

Jules’ lovely command was accompanied by a bird’s colourful singing. It was in a human language, though high-pitched as if divine. The black burn on his arm began to heal. A weary sight left Matty and he was able to pick himself up. He glanced behind him and saw Jules hung onto the Roc’s back. The bird had protected her even in the face of darkness.

He resolved himself to do the same and opened up his inventory, equipping a small round shield of lesser quality that gave twenty points of defence and five attack. Offensively, it was lackluster—not that he had a choice. There was nowhere to hide. The buildings that had once made up the small gated town had become wood, stone, and rubble.

Jack the Ripper’s footsteps were deafening, as was his voice. “Ibong Adarna…is that what I think it is…?”

There was no time to think. He was talking; therefore, he was distracted. ‘Mist Veil!’ His shield breathed out a thick blast of fog that overwhelmed the red fog in place. It was his fog, his magic, and therefore Matty was able to have a vague sense of where his opponent was. ‘Kraken's Tentacle! Kraken’s Tentacle!’

Two whips of blue water snapped from his shield and smacked the figure in the mist. Contact was made, he felt it. However…

“Weak.”

A hollow voice echoed and in a split second reaction Matty ducked under a tendril of darkness. The contrast in speed was asinine. His brain was barely able to keep track as he ran ahead and saw another incoming.

“Ngh!”

If it wasn't for Ibong Adarna's second song, he would have died. His deftness and agility spiked up and while his shield broke at the corner he was nonetheless in the realm of living. Matty charged forward, instincts carrying to avoid another limb, and swung his shield at the shadowy head.

Clang!

He didn't so much as flinch. His mask took the entirety of his attack like it was nothing. His teeth grit together and Matty yelled, “Kraken's Tentacle!”

One second, a blast of water erupted right in his mask. In the following, a leg struck Matty's hip and tossed him several metres away. He ended up in another bulldozed building, lying on a wooden plank. The right side of his body felt numb. He raised his head in time to see the glorious metal colours of the Ibong Adarba, healing him with sparkles of red.

It wasn’t just him, Matty heard the quiet groans of the defeated bodies nearby. The bird was healing everyone in its vicinity, excluding the dark entity responsible. Matty attempted to pick himself back up.

“Fast healing.”

But a foot prevented him from doing so.

“I knew some of those players were faking their deaths. It's not a big deal to me. Sooner or later, with that kind mentality, they'll die anyway.”

Matty grinded his teeth, using all his strength to lift himself yet unable to. Jack was…calm. Unbearably calm, seemingly having no trouble keeping him down. His arms bulged and his voice came in ragged breaths as he tried and tried and tried, to no avail. A simple foot was keeping him down like a dog. The fiery rage in Matty's eyes burned brighter as he glared up at Jack. "That's a good look in your eye. You better fight or else I'll butcher that woman," Jack threatened, his words akin to a florist describing a precious species. He didn’t care one bit whether it was him or Jules that died.

His anger surged, a fierce determination overcoming the pain. He summoned every ounce of strength within him, muscles straining, tendons flexing, but the foot remained unyielding. With each futile attempt, frustration bubbled into a boiling rage, and Matty's eyes flashed with an unbridled defiance.

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His voice, low and guttural, carried a raw intensity. "Get... off... me!" Matty roared, channeling his fury into one final, desperate attempt to break free.

“You’re weak,” Jack stated. “Die knowing that your woman will see your head split from your neck and her eyes plucked from her head. It will be the last thing she sees.”

An insurmountable pressure dug into his skull, his world collapsing and caving in. His vision went red as blood gushed down.

There was a whizz in the air and the foot that was about to crush removed itself. Matty pulled himself up, panting, and saw a blond swinging a bright yellow swore at Jack. His strikes missed and he wasn’t alone. He backed and switched with a young woman with a long face and a side-tattoo. She and one other man came at Jack, weapons blazing, and tried to overwhelm him. They failed miserably as Jack summoned a scalpel and redirected their strikes.

Realizing they were making no headway, they stopped and so did Jack. Matty touched the back of his head, feeling the trickle of blood in his hair. Jules jogged up to him, her weak hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

The blond in the tailored suit glanced over at the pair, a flash of recognition passing his eyes. Matty and Jules had a similar spark of remembrance. It was the sly British man from the train—Nash. His left hand wielded a sword while his right was armed with a gun. His people were sprinkled everywhere, surrounding the lone Ripper.

“I assume you’re the one responsible for the army of pissing soldiers we encountered?” Nash asked. “Your work is a bit too nasty in my opinion. Time for you to sleep with the fishes.”

He didn’t waste time. Bang! He shot his gun. Jack sliced the bullet in half with the scalpel. All twenty members of Nash’s gang charged at him.

Matty was vaguely aware of Nash. Besides their brief encounter at the train, he was also known for recruiting gang members and unruly players that were out of control. He made waves for fighting a Templar that insults one of his crew members. Over twenty players were with him: Francesco, Andrea, and similarly dressed men and women in high fashion suits. All of them charging at Jack.

All of them running to their deaths.

Jack’s speed was greater than anyone else’s and his intellect and precision was greater. A single tap from his scalpel was fatal and on top of that he was uncatchable. Jack melted into the ground and reappeared behind someone. From an outsider’s perspective, it was clear to see. For the unfortunate gang members…

“He’s there! No wait—aagggh!”

“He’s gone! Where did he…?”

“Behind you!”

Nash watched his entourage have their limbs deaden or their eyes slashed. Mercy did not exist in Jack’s world. He did whatever he could to win and he did it without an ounce of hesitation. Twenty whittled down to fifteen. Nash refused to let that number go down further and joined in the instant before Jack reappeared and slashed the neck of the tall Franceso.

Scalpel met sword. Gun appeared smack-dab between the black eye dots of the mask. Bang! Jack’s hand thrusted it to the side and his hand slapped Nash away. He refused to back down the close-quarter confrontation, his sword suddenly illuminating.

“Ngh!” Matty closed his eyes as the sword’s brightness became too much. This was the Illumination skill. Through his blurry sight, Matty was able to make out grunts and missed slashes. Nash was fighting yet failing to make progress.

“Faith of the Week!” The brightness of Nash’s sword condensed into a single pulse. A single heart-beat. The magic whirling within was thick enough for Matty to feel it. Nash raised his sword high in the air, then came down. Jack stepped back to avoid, only to notice three of Nash’s cohorts heading towards his back. Their weapons came at him from behind while Nash chased after him.

Jack stood there and created a black sphere around him: a Magic Barrier that casually fended off both ends. Nash went wide-eyed, though kept going. Clang! Clang! Clang! Faith of the Week was a seven-move combo of the light element. The final light attack in the Amateur Swordsman pathway.

Ordinarily, against a player of similar ability, it would have done considerable damage. Even Matty recognized that fact.

“Patience, a cool head, a natural leader, and an understanding of death and battle…if you were born in any other generation, you would have certainly made it into the top twenty,” Jack said. His Class, which had previously been a dash, was replaced with Dark Sorcerer. The integrity of his barrier visibly increased. “Let us see if you live to be something greater, Nash. Black Cards.”

Between his fingers, he created thin cards of midnight blackness. Jack leaped high in the air and the barrier dissipated. Cackling, Jack threw the cards and like homing missiles they struck their targets. Two players exploded and another melted into the shadows. The world became a twisted game of survival as Nash’s gang tried to run and break the cards. They failed.

Matty and Juled held their breaths. For some reason, Jack hadn’t targeted them, though their fear returned in spades as Jack’s hands were replaced with another set of cards. “Black Cards!”

Being directly under him, Nash managed to slash the first barrage of cards with his holy sword. The second barrage was a whole different story as Jack aimed four cards specifically at him. One card went down his shoulder, nearly ripping it from its socket, and the second and third crossed his chest in an X-shape. The final card was blocked by one of Nash’s comrades, Andrea. She took the card for him, the card lodged right in her shoulder.

“Boss, are you—”

Boom!

She tried to turn but the card exploded. Both Andrea and Nash were hurled into the city walls. Several pained screams pierced the foggy city as Jack unleashed his final set of Black Cards. The attack seemed unavoidable and came in different types. Explosions, slashes, simple penetration, and erosion.

Jack gently landed on the ground, the cards dissipating. He looked at the hole that Nash and Andrea had left behind in the city walls. “I should have ripped that lady’s ears off,” he muttered to himself. “Oh well. Saucy Jack isn’t alone just yet.”

His gaze settled on Matty and Jules.

“Right?