BANG!
Arsa's revolver fired—
The shot struck Reyman's right hand, making him drop the blade he was holding.
Reyman stumbled back, surprised, trying to steady himself with his other hand.
BANG! BANG!
Arsa turned his revolver quickly toward Artstate and fired two more times.
The bullets hit her legs, and she dropped to her knees, her movements slow and unbalanced.
She didn't cry out. She didn't speak. Just sat there with her head tilted, staring ahead like a broken machine.
Arsa lowered his revolver just slightly. His hands were still steady, but his mind was racing.
Why… isn't anyone coming?
He quickly looked around.
The street was silent.
No voices.
No windows opening.
No doors creaking.
Just the wind… and the still fog.
Arsa narrowed his eyes.
I fired four shots. That should've woken the entire street.
It wasn't natural.
He stepped back slowly, keeping Reyman and Artstate in his line of sight.
Then the thought hit him: Is this… part of the mirror world?
Or did Reyman do something to the area before attacking me?
Across from him, Reyman was breathing heavily, his face calm but his eyes furious.
"You're smarter than you look," Reyman said, his voice low. "But you're still not out of danger, darling."
Arsa didn't answer. He just raised his revolver again, silent, focused.
A strange sound echoed through the street.
It was wet… slow… dragging.
Arsa turned his head sharply, eyes narrowing.
From the mist at the far end of the road, something emerged.
It moved without footsteps.
Tall. Wrapped in a black cloak that dragged along the ground. From beneath the cloak, long, slimy tentacles slithered out, trailing behind it like roots searching for something to grab.
Its face was hidden—only darkness under the hood. It made no sound. It simply… approached.
Arsa took one step back, aiming his revolver.
"What in the world…?" he muttered.
To his side, Reyman laughed softly. A slow, pleased laugh.
"He came… He actually came," Reyman said, smiling. "I knew you'd arrive. I was faithful, wasn't I?"
Arsa looked at Reyman, confused. "You… know it?"
Reyman turned toward Arsa, still smiling. "Yes. I served him. He was supposed to bring perfection. My creations… were only the beginning. And now—"
SHHRACK!
A sudden movement.
Faster than Arsa could process.
The cloaked being raised one tentacled limb—and sliced cleanly through Reyman's body in one motion.
Reyman didn't scream.
His eyes went wide—and his body dropped.
Arsa stood frozen.
"No way…"
Artstate moved, slowly raising her head toward the being.
Then, without hesitation—
Another strike.
Clean. Swift.
Artstate fell, lifeless, her body collapsing with a dull sound onto the street.
The cloaked creature stood still, unmoving.
Arsa didn't breathe. His grip on the revolver tightened.
He didn't know what this thing was.
But it wasn't on anyone's side.
And now… it turned its hooded head toward him.
Arsa stood frozen.
The cloaked being was still facing him. Its hooded head tilted slightly, as if examining him.
Then, without warning, it began to move.
Not with its tentacles.
Not with its hands.
It simply glided forward—slow, smooth, and silent—right toward him.
Arsa took a step back, raising his revolver. "Stay back," he said sharply, voice shaking.
The creature didn't stop.
It didn't speak.
It didn't hesitate.
And then—
It began to dissolve.
The black cloak, the tentacles, all of it started to melt into a thick, dark mist. The mist slithered along the ground, around Arsa's feet, then rose up fast, covering his legs, chest, and face.
"W–Wait—!" Arsa tried to shout, but the mist covered his mouth.
It forced itself into him—through his nose, his mouth, his eyes. Every part of his body felt like it was being filled with cold, wet smoke.
He fell to his knees.
His hands dropped the revolver.
He couldn't move.
His head pounded, his chest felt tight.
And then—
Silence.
The mist was gone.
Arsa remained on the ground, gasping for breath, shaking.
He looked around. The cloaked figure was nowhere then suddenly Arsa falls down to the pavement and past out.
Ten minutes later.
As the black smoke finally faded, the world returned.
Arsa opened his eyes slowly. The night sky above was dark and clear, stars faintly blinking over the rooftops of Mariontton Street.
He was lying on the pavement.
His breathing was shaky. His body felt heavy.
He looked to his right—and saw the lifeless body of Reyman Clouden, slumped against the stone.
To his left, Artstate lay motionless, her face blank, her limbs twisted unnaturally.
They're dead, Arsa realized. For real this time.
No sign of the cloaked being.
No fog.
Just… silence.
He slowly stood up, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Then he walked over to the nearest public phone booth, a glass and iron box near the corner of the street. His fingers trembled slightly as he inserted the coins and turned the dial.
"Hello?" he said into the receiver. "It's me… Arsa. I need everyone at Mariontton Street. Right now. It's over, but… I found something. Something strange."
---
Within twenty minutes, several carriages and steam police wagons arrived. A crowd had already started to form—curious civilians trying to get a look at the scene behind the guarded lines.
Mr. Argus Jenkins stepped out of one of the wagons, followed by Reynold, Lemon, Arthur, and Aritea. Litun came running behind them, his coat half-buttoned.
Arsa stood near the bodies, arms crossed, his top hat slightly tilted back.
"You look like hell," Arthur said with a small laugh.
Arsa gave him a tired glare. "Thanks."
Reynold crouched beside Reyman's corpse, examining it carefully.
"There's no wound in his chest," he muttered. "Only bullet marks from your revolver."
Arsa's brows furrowed. "I saw something kill him. Something cloaked… with tentacles. It sliced through him like paper."
Reynold stood up. "There's no sign of that. No burns, no cuts. Nothing."
Arsa frowned deeper. "What about Artstate?"
"She's deactivated," Lemon said, after checking her pulse and movement. "Like someone turned her off. But you said something about a cloaked figure?" She turned and scanned him up and down.
Then, placing her hand on his shoulder, she looked him in the eye.
"I scanned you with my mage mark. There's nothing wrong with your body, Arsa. Your energy is normal. Your soul is clean. You're not cursed, infected, or possessed."
Arsa hesitated. "Then how do you explain—"
"You passed out," Lemon said calmly. "After the fight. Maybe your mind filled in the blanks."
"I didn't imagine it," Arsa said, sharper now. "It was real."
The others exchanged glances.
Argus spoke, finally. "Whatever it was, we'll figure it out. We'll take the bodies in for full analysis. But for now, you've done your job, Arsa. Go home. Get some rest."
Arsa stayed silent.
But inside… he wasn't convinced.
[TO BE CONTINUE]