บท 6: Kazan Expedition
After entering the desolate outskirts of what was once a prosperous district in Kazan, Sin moved cautiously through the night. The streets were littered with the husks of abandoned buildings, their windows shattered and facades crumbling. The air carried a stale, metallic tang that made every breath feel heavy.
Sin adjusted his hood, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows that stretched endlessly around him. "I should be approaching the address soon," he muttered to himself. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. "Sucks that I've gotta move on foot from here."
He glanced down at the note Gizmo had given him, its edges slightly crumpled from being folded in his pocket. His thoughts drifted to the Shadow Mother, whose presence loomed over Leipzig like a protective, yet restricting force.
As long as the Shadow Mother inhabits Leipzig, I won't be able to shadow travel anywhere in this city. Gotta be sneaky.
Sin clenched his fists, his steps slowing as he felt a sudden shift in the air. It was subtle but unmistakable—the temperature dropped, and a faint rustling sounded behind him. His instincts screamed danger.
Something was following him.
The creature moved like a phantom, its form melding seamlessly with the darkness. A shade hound—a ninja-like shadow entity that relentlessly pursued runaway knights. It stalked Sin with deadly precision, its presence almost imperceptible.
Sin stopped in his tracks, his breath steady but shallow. It's close, he thought, reaching for his dagger. His grip tightened around the hilt as tendrils of shadow began to spread from his cloak, seeking to envelop the area.
"Come on," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the growing tension in the air.
Before he could react, the shade hound struck. Tendrils lashed out from every direction, wrapping around Sin with unrelenting force. He struggled, his muscles straining against the unyielding grip of the shadows.
"Damn it!" he growled, trying to summon his abilities, but the hound's suppression rendered him powerless. It dragged him effortlessly into a nearby alley, its movements fluid and precise.
As Sin was pulled into the abyss of shadows, his grip loosened, and the crumpled note slipped from his pocket. The paper fluttered to the ground, unnoticed by the shade hound as it carried its prey deeper into the void.
Sin's vision blurred, the oppressive darkness swallowing him whole. Just as he felt himself fading, a sharp jolt brought him back to consciousness.
He bolted upright, gasping for air. The familiar surroundings of his dorm room came into focus—his bed, the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the window. His clothes had been changed into a simple black tee and sweats, and the lingering chill of the shade hound's grip still prickled his skin.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, frustration lacing his voice. His mission had been snuffed out before it even truly began.
Back in the outskirts of Kazan, a boy with a white, ceramic mask picked up the discarded note. The paper's texture was familiar to him, its significance obvious. He held it up, the faint light from a distant streetlamp illuminating Gizmo's handwriting.
"The boss will appreciate this," the boy murmured to himself. His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so. As he turned to leave, his tail-like braid swayed behind him with each step.
He maneuvered through the apocalyptic ruins of Kazan with ease, slipping into a narrow alleyway that grew darker and more oppressive the deeper he went. Shadows clung to the walls, and the faint sound of murmured voices grew louder. Masked figures emerged from the darkness, their heads nodding in silent acknowledgment as the boy passed by.
He entered a hidden hideout, its entrance concealed by layers of rubble and debris. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and burning candles. In the backroom, the Masked Man sat at his desk, his imposing figure illuminated by the faint glow of a single lamp.
The boy approached, placing the note on the desk with deliberate care. The Masked Man's gaze lifted, his eyes narrowing as he studied the boy. No words were exchanged, but the unspoken approval in the Masked Man's nod was enough to send a spark of satisfaction through the boy.
Not long after, the boy rallied a group of masked followers. They moved swiftly and silently through the ruined streets, their destination clear. The address on the note led them to a decrepit warehouse, its exterior giving no hint of the activity inside.
Inside, a young girl sat on the floor, her legs crossed as she played a handheld video game. She wore a casual outfit, her relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos about to unfold.
The masked group burst in, their presence shattering the stillness. The girl leapt to her feet, her expression hardening as she realized what was happening.
"What the hell do you want?!" she demanded, her voice steady despite the odds stacked against her.
The boy stepped forward, his ceramic mask catching the dim light. "There's nothing special here," he said, his tone dismissive. Yet his gaze lingered on the girl, his instincts telling him otherwise.
The girl charged at him, her movements quick and precise, but he was faster. Their fight was brief but brutal. The boy disarmed her effortlessly, pinning her to the ground before lifting her by the back of her shirt.
"But maybe you know where the good stuff is," he said, his voice cold and calculating. The girl glared at him, defiance burning in her eyes despite her vulnerable position.
The masked followers began ransacking the warehouse, searching for anything of value. The tension in the air was palpable, a dangerous edge to every movement and word.
The boy tightened his grip on the girl, his mind racing. This was his chance to prove himself to the cult—but something about the girl's unwavering gaze unsettled him, a flicker of doubt creeping into his thoughts as the shadows loomed around them.
After a restless night at the academy, Sin woke up half an hour earlier than usual. The dorm was cloaked in the quiet of predawn, Naro and Simon, still lost in the depths of sleep. Pulling on his cloak and boots with practiced ease, he slipped out into the shadowed hallways and made his way into the town.
The streets were still and dimly lit by the faint glow of scattered lanterns. Most booths in the market were closed, their owners hidden away in warm homes. All but one.
Gizmo's booth.
Spotting the familiar cluttered stand, Sin broke into a sprint. His boots thudded softly against the cobblestones as he reached the booth, his chest heaving from urgency.
"Gizmo! I need to talk to you!" Sin blurted, his words tumbling over each other in his rush to explain. "The note… I lost it. The shadow hound dragged me back to the academy before I could…"
Gizmo raised a hand, cutting him off. "Whoa, whoa, slow down! Relax!" he said, leaning back in his chair. "It's cool. Whatever you needed the crystal for, it's alright."
Sin stared at him, incredulous. "How can you say that?" he snapped. His voice was edged with desperation. "There could be a mass awakening outbreak soon! I need those crystals!"
Visions flooded his mind—townspeople screaming as Galco tore through the streets, the city of Leipzig overrun because of his mistake, his reckless decision to punch the beast toward those kids. The weight of it all pressed against his chest, his usually stoic demeanor cracking under the strain.
Gizmo studied him for a moment, then reached under a pile of odds and ends. With a flourish, he pulled out a green crystal, its surface gleaming like liquid emerald in the dim light. He held it up in front of Sin's face.
Sin froze, his breath hitching. "B-But how?" he asked, his confusion clear as his eyes darted between Gizmo and the artifact.
Gizmo chuckled, clutching the crystal like a prized possession. "Turns out I had one under all this junk," he said with a wink, gesturing to the clutter around him.
Sin's hand shot out, palm open, waiting. "Give it to me," he said, his tone steady but impatient.
Gizmo shook his head, his grin widening. "Afraid it's not that easy, friend."
Sin's gaze darkened. "What do you want for it?" he asked, his voice low and clipped.
Gizmo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "It's simple, really. All I need is some information," he said, his tone light but pointed.
Sin straightened, his posture rigid. "Fine," he said, crossing his arms. "What do you want to know?"
Gizmo tilted his head, his goggles glinting faintly in the lantern light. "What exactly are your plans with this crystal? Is it for something bad?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of playful suspicion, like a detective teasing out the truth.
Sin sighed heavily, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "No," he said firmly. "It's nothing like that. I just need to undo this awakening on a kid… or two. Three, maybe." He exhaled sharply, his hand extending again. "It doesn't matter. I just need to fix this quickly."
Gizmo watched him for a moment longer, then smiled. "You really are a good kid, y'know that?" he said, finally handing over the crystal.
Sin took it carefully, his fingers brushing against its smooth surface. Beneath the perpetual night sky, he held the crystal up toward the crescent moon, marveling at its beauty. The gem's vibrant glow reflected in his eyes, casting them in a vivid green hue. But as he stared, he noticed something else—a faint purple highlight in his gaze. It shimmered unnaturally, a hue that hadn't been there before.
His stomach turned. "What the hell?" he thought, lowering the crystal abruptly.
That's when it happened. A laugh. High-pitched and malevolent, buzzing from ear to ear. It echoed in his mind, invasive and mocking. Sin flinched, his free hand shooting up to his head as if to block it out.
"What the hell is that?!" he whispered, his voice tight with panic. He rubbed his temples, but the sound only grew louder, reverberating through his skull like a cruel joke.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the laughter stopped. Silence returned, oppressive and heavy.
Gizmo frowned, watching Sin with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "You good, kid?" he asked, his casual tone betraying his unease.
Sin forced a nod, lowering his hand. "Yeah," he lied. "I'm fine."
Gizmo didn't press further. "Well, have a good day… er, night," he said, retreating to his small home behind the booth. His silhouette disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sin alone once more.
Sin lingered in the empty street, his thoughts racing. The laughter still echoed faintly in his memory, and he couldn't shake the unease it left behind. What was that? he wondered. But no answers came.
He glanced at the crystal in his hand, its green light casting faint shadows on his face. "Should I go to Leipzig now?" he murmured, considering his options. No—the townsfolk would still be out and about. The kids would be awake for sure.
"This will have to wait another hour or two," he decided, tucking the crystal into his pocket. Turning on his heel, he made his way back to the academy, the warmth of his dorm calling to him. But even as he walked, the phantom sound of laughter lingered, a chilling reminder that the shadows he carried might not be his alone.
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