The mist thickened, swirling unnaturally around the moving train. The rhythmic clatter of steel against steel echoed through the night, but on top of the cargo car, silence hung heavy.
Ferno's men stood frozen, rifles in hand, their eyes locked on the lone figure before them.
A long black coat billowed in the wind. A wide-brimmed black hat cast a shadow over his masked face. The pristine white mask was unreadable, featureless except for two empty eye holes. A gloved hand rested against a black-and-gold cane, held effortlessly, as if he had all the time in the world.
The men exchanged uneasy glances. They had heard whispers—stories—but nothing concrete. No one knew his motives. No one knew how he fought.
Then, he disappeared.
The mist exploded outward in a sudden gust, swallowing the train car in a thick, suffocating veil. Shadows flickered within, shapes twisting and vanishing before their eyes.
A spark of orange light ignited within the fog, followed by another—like dying embers floating in the air.
Then, fire.
A roaring wave of flame surged toward them, illuminating the mist in an eerie glow. The men staggered back, panic flashing across their faces.
"Open fire!" someone yelled.
Gunshots rang out, the deafening cracks piercing the night. But the bullets struck nothing. Their target was gone.
"Where—"
A figure emerged from the fog.
Not in front of them—but beside.
Merlin's cane swung.
A sharp strike to the ribs sent one man tumbling over the edge. He barely managed to grab onto the railing, his screams lost in the wind.
Another turned, aiming his rifle—only for his own bullet to ricochet back at him, deflected by a sudden wall of air. He collapsed, clutching his shoulder.
The last two hesitated.
Then—Merlin was behind them.
"You should run," he whispered.
Panic broke them. They scrambled for the ladder. One made it halfway down before an invisible force plucked him from the rungs and flung him into the mist. His scream cut off abruptly.
The final guard collapsed, shaking. He could feel the presence behind him, looming like a shadow.
Then, the weight disappeared.
When he turned, Merlin was already gone.
A sharp, frantic voice crackled through the magic communication device in the engine room.
"—He's here! He's in the cargo section! We need reinforcements, now!"
Ferno's head snapped toward the device, his pulse spiking.
The engine room was filled with the steady hum of the massive magic engine, the two operators focused on keeping the train moving. But Ferno had no time for that.
He rushed to the window, looking ahead toward the locked storage section. His breath hitched.
Through the glass, he saw him.
Merlin stood in the center of the cargo hold, surrounded by towering crates. The magic stones—eight tons of them—sealed away inside. He wasn't searching. He wasn't rushing. He was simply… there.
Ferno's hands clenched into fists. His voice came out hoarse.
"No… no, no, no…"
Merlin slowly turned his head, and for the first time, their eyes met.
Even through the glass, Ferno felt the weight of that unreadable gaze. Cold. Calculated. As if Merlin had planned this from the start.
Then, the air around him shifted.
The runes sealing the crates flared for a brief moment—then shattered. The lids snapped open, revealing the glow of enchanted stones, pulsing with unnatural light.
Merlin stepped forward, resting a gloved hand on one of the crates.
And then—he spoke.
His voice was calm, almost amused.
"Give my greetings to the Luthbrechts."
Then, he vanished.
No sound. No mist. Just… gone.
Ferno stumbled back, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His mind struggled to grasp what he had just witnessed.
It took him a moment to find his voice.
"It's… spacial magic," he choked out. "He used spacial magic…"
His own words felt unreal.
The train surged through the night, but Ferno knew one thing—
The stones were gone.
And Merlin had won.
On the next morning, the train arrived at the station near the Dukedom of Luthbrecht. The moment it stopped, the doors were torn open, and armed knights flooded inside.
Ferno was dragged from the engine room, thrown to his knees on the cold stone ground of what seemed to be a training ground. His face was pale, his body trembling from exhaustion and disbelief.
Before him stood Count Camelot, his expression twisted with anger. Delphine was at his side, his voice sharp as he shouted, **"What did you do?! Where are the stones?!"**
But the one who radiated sheer, blistering rage was the man looming above them all—Luthbrecht.
His presence alone was suffocating. His orange eyes burned with fury, his fine coat swaying as he took a step closer.
"Where are my stones?" Luthbrecht's voice was low, dangerous.
Ferno swallowed hard. His men—what was left of them—knelt behind him. Two of them had already been dragged forward by Luthbrecht's knights.
A moment later, their heads hit the ground.
A clean, efficient execution.
Ferno flinched, his breath hitching. He knew what was coming.
He had no choice.
"Merlin," he croaked out. "Merlin did this."
Count Camelot's eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, his voice sharp with disbelief. "You mean… the Phantom Thief?"
Luthbrecht's expression didn't change, but something shifted in the air.
Ferno forced himself to continue.
"He… he left a message."
Luthbrecht said nothing. He only stared.
Ferno clenched his fists. "He said… 'Give my greetings to the Luthbrechts.'"
Silence.
Then—
A flicker of flame.
The remaining men behind Ferno didn't even have time to scream. Fire consumed them in an instant, the blaze roaring to life and vanishing just as quickly.
Their ashes scattered into the wind.
Luthbrecht turned away, walking off as if their deaths meant nothing.
But he paused.
his head tilted slightly, his voice like a whisper of burning embers.
"Find my stones."