Capítulo 10: Die Nachtbrecher
In the outskirts of Kazan, tension hung thick in the air as the Masked Man departed, leaving Saxon to oversee the cult's operations. Sable had been dispatched on a separate mission, and Saxon found himself burdened with the weight of command. He couldn't shake the feeling that the cult was on the verge of a turning point, one that demanded action.
Sitting atop the rooftop of their hideout, Saxon surveyed the streets below. His electric baton rested across his lap, a faint hum emanating from it as his thoughts churned. Behind him, a crew of masked subordinates materialized, their shadows flickering under the moon. The masked girl leading the group stepped forward, kneeling at his side.
"What is it?" Saxon asked, his voice sharp with residual anger from Sable's reckless actions the night before.
The girl hesitated, her voice trembling. "The girl is stable, but she still won't talk."
Saxon's jaw tightened. "Then make her talk," he said coldly. "She looks barely thirteen. Waterboard her if you have to."
The girl's breath hitched. "B-but Sea—"
Saxon's gaze burned through his mask as he corrected her. "It's Saxon."
"Right," she stammered. "My bad… I just, I'm sorry I forgot."
Before Saxon could respond, a noise cut through the stillness. Rustling. It came from the trash-strewn alley across the street. A faint green light pulsed in the darkness.
Saxon raised a hand, signaling his troops. They moved swiftly, leaping from the rooftop to surround the source of the disturbance. Shadows coiled and tightened around the figure in the alley, a small, hunched form marked by the glint of oversized goggles.
The lead masked girl reached out to apprehend the creature, but before her hand could close, a tendril of shadow shot out and impaled her. Her body dropped lifelessly to the ground. The other cultists froze in terror, but their hesitation cost them dearly. One by one, they were skewered by the writhing tendrils, their bodies collapsing into heaps.
From the shadows, a deep, resonant voice echoed.
"I quit being a knight for a reason. I simply couldn't handle the bloodshed."
The figure stepped forward, his small furred body elongating and shifting. The tiny beast transformed into a short-haired man, standing at six feet tall. Cloaked in dark business attire, he adjusted his goggles with a menacing calm.
On the rooftop, Saxon stared in disbelief. "Holy shit," he muttered. A night creature had appeared—and at the worst possible time.
Saxon leapt from the rooftop, rallying the remaining troops inside the hideout.
"Everyone! A night creature is here!" he shouted, his baton raised high. "It just took out our people. Let's capture the bastard and show 'em hell!"
The soldiers cheered, their chants rising into a crescendo of defiance. But their fervor was cut short by a knock at the entrance. The sound reverberated through the room, silencing the crowd. Shadows seeped under the door, pooling into a mass so dark it seemed to absorb all light.
Saxon's stomach churned. "No way… that dreadful presence… it can't be him."
Before anyone could react, the door burst open, and the shadowy figure stepped inside. Tendrils erupted, piercing skulls and hearts with ruthless efficiency. Within moments, bodies littered the floor. The man's voice dripped with layered demonic tones as he spoke.
"Where is Lily?"
Saxon froze, his fingers tightening around his baton. The night creature's words clawed at his sanity, each syllable scraping against his mind. Summoning his courage, Saxon deflected a tendril with a burst of electricity. The creature growled in pain but was far from defeated.
Gizmo's voice deepened, a guttural snarl escaping his lips. "Urghhh…"
The battle intensified as Gizmo sent a tendril toward the ceiling light, attempting to cast a deeper shadow. Saxon reacted swiftly, throwing his second baton, the electricity crackling as it severed the tendril. Gizmo staggered, clutching his head as though fighting off an internal struggle. His tendrils coiled, poised to strike again, but then…
"Wait!" Lily's voice rang out, cutting through the chaos.
Gizmo's movements halted. His monstrous form wavered, multiple eyes blinking across his face. As his guard dropped, Saxon launched his baton at Gizmo's chest. The impact sent Gizmo flying out the door. By the time he landed, he had reverted to his small, furry form, unconscious and twitching from the residual shocks.
Lily's rage ignited. Her eyes burned with an orange glow as she turned to Saxon.
"Round two, bitch," she spat, tears streaming down her face from the sight of Gizmo's jittering body.
She lunged, landing a powerful kick that sent Saxon tumbling into a table. He recovered quickly, tackling her to the ground and throwing wild punches. But Lily's training kicked in. She caught his fist and retaliated with a justice-filled punch that sent him crashing across the room.
Ripping off her bandages, Lily revealed her fully healed wounds. Her newfound strength surged through her as she loomed over Saxon, who struggled to rise.
"You… you bitch!" Saxon hissed, blood dripping from his cracked mask.
As he scrambled for his fallen baton, Lily stomped on his hand, pinning it to the floor. She raised her fist, but a cough from Gizmo pulled her attention. She hesitated, torn between finishing Saxon and checking on her friend.
"You're lucky he's alive," Lily said coldly. "Otherwise, I'd kill you like the dog you are."
Gizmo stirred, his small form trembling as he surveyed the carnage. He nodded to Lily, who responded with a swift kick to Saxon's head, knocking him unconscious. His mask shattered completely, revealing his bloodied face beneath.
When Saxon woke, he found himself bound to a chair in a dark room. A single lamp cast a harsh light on him, leaving the rest of the space shrouded in shadow. Lily stood before him, her orange eyes gleaming with fury. Her hair was tied into a tight bun, her expression unreadable but deadly.
"Where's your little friend?" Saxon sneered, attempting to mask his fear with bravado.
Lily's response was immediate and brutal. Her fist collided with his face, sending him and the chair sprawling to the floor. She righted the chair with a sharp pull and leaned in close.
"I ask the questions now," she said icily.
Saxon glared up at her, blood dripping from his broken nose. "You're nothing special. We were after the night creature, not you," he spat.
Lily's hand hovered over a baton resting on a nearby table. "You're all over the place. Let me set you straight."
She pressed the baton to his neck, electricity surging through his body. Saxon screamed, his defiance momentarily replaced by agony. When the current ceased, Lily leaned in again.
"Tell me about your group. Tell me everything, or this gets worse," she demanded.
Through gritted teeth, Saxon muttered, "Die Nachtbrecher…"
Lily repeated the name softly, a smirk spreading across her face. "So that's what your little cult is called."
She raised the baton for a final strike, but Saxon's eyes flared with ocean blue light. He broke free from his bindings and launched her across the room. The battle raged anew, their powers colliding in a storm of fury and resolve.
Saxon's agility kept him darting around the room, dodging Lily's fiery blows as sparks from the baton illuminated their frantic duel. He lunged for his second baton, but Lily anticipated the move, striking his arm and sending the weapon skittering across the floor.
"Not this time!" Lily shouted, her voice filled with determination.
Saxon feinted, his glowing eyes narrowing as he moved unpredictably. He managed to grab a chair and hurled it at Lily, forcing her to block. Using the momentary distraction, he made a break for the door.
"Coward!" Lily yelled, chasing after him.
At the threshold, Saxon turned, his remaining baton crackling with energy. He swung it in a wide arc, forcing Lily to halt her advance. "This isn't over," he snarled, blood dripping from his lip.
Before Lily could retort, Saxon bolted into the shadows. But as he fled, his grip slipped, and his second baton clattered to the floor behind him.
Lily picked it up, her chest heaving as she stared into the darkness where Saxon had vanished. She gripped the baton tightly, her resolve hardening. "Next time, you won't get away," she muttered.
In the academy, Sin ascended the spiral staircase, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls. As he climbed, the upper levels of the academy shifted into something surreal. The hallways twisted and contorted, colors bleeding together like an abstract painting brought to life. The walls seemed alive, pulsating faintly as if they were aware of his presence. Sin paused briefly to take it all in.
"This place never ceases to amaze me," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with awe and a hint of unease. Each step closer to the Shadow Mother's room heightened the tension in the air, a reminder of the power that awaited him at the peak.
When he finally reached the summit, two colossal doors loomed before him. Adorned with skull-shaped knockers and intricate gothic designs, the doors exuded an ominous presence. Sin's hand hovered for a moment before he pressed it between the doors, his resolve solidifying.
"By the will of shadows, I abide by your rule, by your domain. Hear me, Shadow Mother!" he chanted, his voice steady but tinged with reverence.
In an instant, the doors seemed to dissolve, and Sin opened his eyes to the world of nothingness. Here, shadows moved like living creatures, coiling and writhing in a void where no light dared to tread. At the center of this abyss was a presence so immense, so dominant, it felt as though it could snuff out existence with a mere thought.
The Shadow Mother's voice echoed, layered with an omnipresence that sent shivers down Sin's spine. "Sinister. My child, why do you summon me in such a time of turmoil?"
Sin stood firm, though the weight of her presence threatened to buckle his knees. "The cult has returned to Leipzig. It seems they know our knights there are minimal. Is there any way you can send us reinforcements? I'm afraid we might not be able to handle this threat on our own."
As the words left his lips, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. The silence that followed was suffocating, and then it came—a crushing weight on his chest. It wasn't directed at him but felt like the fury of an enraged storm barely held back. The pressure grew, each second stretching into an eternity.
"Mother… Are you angry with me?" Sin's voice trembled, barely audible.
The Shadow Mother released her grip, and Sin gasped for air, his chest heaving.
"It's not you, my child," she said, her tone softening. "It's just… this is such a trivial time. You and the rest of Leonardo's disciples are the only surviving cadets this year. But I suppose I could send you one more."
Her words carried a bittersweet comfort, a glimmer of hope in the void. Sin prayed silently, his thoughts a mix of gratitude and desperation. As he closed his eyes, the void faded, and he reawakened in the band room. The familiar hum of the room greeted him, but his mind reeled from the encounter.
The other band members surrounded him, their faces brimming with hope as if they had devised a plan. Yet Sin felt dizzy, the lingering echoes of the Shadow Mother's domain gnawing at his consciousness. The pitch-black space, the feeling of eyes both open and closed—it clawed at his thoughts.
Nora's voice cut through the haze. "So here's the plan…"
But before she could continue, Sin rose abruptly.
"I'm going for a walk," he said, his back turned to the group. His tone was calm, but the weight of his encounter was evident in the stiffness of his posture.
Nina watched him leave, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "Well, he did just speak with a deity twice in one day. I can't imagine the pain," she said softly, her voice tinged with somber understanding.
At the front gates of the academy, Sin walked absentmindedly. His thoughts churned, replaying fragments of his conversation with the Shadow Mother. As he approached the gates, his focus remained inward, oblivious to his surroundings. Without realizing it, he phased through the wrought iron gates, the shadows weaving seamlessly around him as his uniform transformed into his mission cloak.
It wasn't until the cool night air brushed against his face that Sin paused. He glanced back at the gate, his brow furrowing.
"Did I just…?" he murmured. The realization sent a shiver down his spine. The act of phasing through had been effortless, subconscious. A reminder of how deeply intertwined he was with the shadows.
"Where am I even going?" he asked himself, his voice lost in the stillness of the night.
As he looked around, he found himself standing in the bustling market. The noise and movement jarred him from his thoughts. His eyes darted to Gizmo's shop, its shutters closed tightly. A pang of worry struck him, but then he noticed the faint glow of light coming from Gizmo's cottage behind the shop.
Sin's lips curved into a small smile. The sight of the light brought a sense of clarity, a grounding reassurance. He turned away and began walking back toward the academy, his mind quieter now, the fog of unease lifting slightly.
Back in the band room, Sin settled next to his guitar. The weight of his journey still lingered, but he was ready to face the next challenge.
Nora's eyes locked onto his, a mix of understanding and restrained frustration in her gaze. "Are you ready to hear the plan?" she asked, her tone firm but measured.
Sin smirked, the confidence returning to his expression. "Fill me in," he said, his voice steady. The room seemed to exhale as the band members prepared for the next step in their fight.
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