"Something's off," Astralis muttered after dispatching three more Reapers. He wiped a smear of oily black residue from his cheek, trying not to dwell on the fact that each kill had been a tad too easy for monsters of this rank.
A-Rank Reapers typically fought with more cunning—these had rushed him like mindless drones, as though guided by some external force rather than their own predatory intellect.
His earpiece crackled. "Astralis, do you copy? Ten more are converging on your position."
"I copy," he replied, pressing a hand to the device. "Any chance our intel was catastrophically wrong?"
A short silence followed, then filtered through the static. "Isn't it always? Stay frosty."
Richard clicked his tongue in frustration and edged around the rusted husk of a collapsed building, stepping gingerly over broken glass and spent bullet casings.
A quick glance down told him that the glass came from a picture frame.
A family. I wonder if they managed to get out of this hellhole before the monsters came, he thought, but he didn't hold much hope for the people in the photograph.
After all, they wouldn't have abandoned such a cherished picture...
Heavy footsteps echoed from down the street. Here we go again.
Richard—Astralis—steeled himself against the chill creeping along his spine, pressing his back to a shattered wall.
Ten more Reapers, King had said. Brilliant. He could already hear their grotesque snarls echoing down the ravaged street.
He forced himself to take a slow, measured breath, forcibly pushing aside the dread rising in his gut.
Stay calm. Keep it together.
His training took over, the half-remembered routines and mental exercises gleaned from countless skirmishes against the monsters.
A shuffling shape slid into view at the far end of the alley.
Then another. Then more.
Their movements were jerky, elongated limbs trailing black, oozing substance that spattered the ground with each uneven step.
Unlike previous Reapers he had just killed, these advanced in a disconcertingly organised line, as though herded by some invisible hand.
Richard exhaled slowly.
One star… just enough.
He summoned the 1-Star Glyph: Burst Step with the barest flicker of thought.
A single glowing star coalesced beneath his feet, casting a faint silver light on the drenched pavement.
Instantly, he kicked off.
His body shot forward in a blur of speed, water spraying in his wake.
The nearest Reaper barely had time to twist its malformed head before Richard's dagger sliced cleanly across its neck.
Thick black sludge spurted forth, but he'd already moved on to the next target.
Three Reapers lunged at once, spindly arms and clawed hands outstretched to tear at his flesh. Richard spun mid-stride, letting the momentum carry him through.
The shimmering trail from Burst Step rippled with each shift of his feet.
He plunged his blades into two creatures simultaneously—left dagger into a Reaper's sternum, right dagger through its companion's ribcage.
A moment later, they collapsed into coiling shadows that dissolved on the wet ground.
Yet for each Reaper he felled, more seemed to slither out of the darkness. He'd lost count—ten might as well have been twenty.
They scuttled in from both sides now, their hollow amber eyes shining with malevolent intent.
Richard felt his pulse pounding in his ears. If they pinned him in a narrow passage, his agility would become useless.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath and activated Astral Ward.
A faint hum tickled his consciousness as the 2-Star Glyph flared to life around him.
Two interlocking stars materialised in a swirl of silver, forming a protective shell around his torso and arms.
One of the Reapers sprang from behind, serrated claws raking across the ward. Sparks danced against the barrier as it absorbed the impact, forcing the monster back a step.
Richard retaliated with a swift slash, severing the Reaper's arm. The barrier flickered for an instant—its energy draining faster with each blow. I can do this all day.
A trio of Reapers rushed from the front. Richard could only brace himself, crossing his daggers in a defensive posture.
The first collided with the ward, fracturing the ephemeral glow, while the second bashed right through the weakened shield, claws scraping across Richard's shoulder.
He hammered the hilt of his dagger into the Reaper's face, feeling cartilage snap beneath the blow.
It toppled with a feral shriek.
Richard's blade descended in a merciless arc, ensuring it wouldn't rise again.
He stumbled back, heart thudding wildly, mind racing. There were still too many. I need to clear them out—fast.
His eyes darted over the swath of Reapers closing in.
Another wave, no less than five, scuttled through the debris-strewn street. The air thickened with their presence, an oppressive sense of dread that weighed on his lungs.
He drew a shaky breath. "Alright then, you bastards…"
Planting his feet, he summoned the 3-Star Glyph: Celestial Bind.
Three stars, arranged in a tight triangular pattern, flashed beneath him.
A ripple of silver light spread outward in concentric circles, distorting the rain in mid-air. The Reapers advanced heedlessly, but as they crossed into the shimmering zone, they jerked to a halt, as though mired in invisible tar.
"Got you," he growled, forcing more energy into the glyph.
With a twist of his wrist, the gravitational distortion intensified. Knees and elbows buckled; the Reapers' limbs bent awkwardly.
Their shrieks tore through the darkness, high-pitched and desperate.
In one decisive motion, he leapt into the heart of them, daggers flashing. Despite his fatigue, adrenaline coursed through him, sharpening his focus.
He stabbed, sliced, pivoted—each strike lethal, each motion precise.
The Reapers, slowed by Celestial Bind, could only lash out clumsily as he whittled down their numbers.
But controlling the glyph took its toll.
He felt the energy drain as sweat mingled with rain on his brow.
Every muscle in his body hurt, but one by one, the Reapers collapsed into dark, writhing mist until only a twitching heap of limbs remained.
Then the glyph's light began to falter.
Richard's knees buckled for a moment, and he started feeling dizzy.
Not yet, he thought, teeth clenched.
His chest rose and fell in laboured gasps as he disengaged the distortion field.
The final Reaper in the group lunged free, swiping at him with savage speed.
Richard rolled beneath the blow, breath hitching as the motion sent agony ricocheting through his battered shoulder.
"Ah—!" He hissed but forced himself to retaliate.
A dagger thrust upward, biting deep into the creature's abdomen. With a sickening gurgle, it slumped to the side and dissolved like the rest.
Silence settled, broken only by the thrum of rain on shattered metal.
He pressed a shaky hand to the earpiece. "King… I think we were right about the intel being bollocks. That must have been at least fifty fucking Reapers"
A crackle of static, then King's voice, laced with tension. "Copy that. Sitrep?"
Richard swallowed, trying to catch his breath. "Managed… managed the wave. But these monsters are moving differently. Something's wrong."
"That doesn't sound good."
Richard grunted. "Understatement of the year. Any chance that the extraction window's improving?"
Another burst of static. "Negative. Command says it's too unstable to send a transport in without guaranteeing it won't be ripped to shreds by monsters. They need more time."
Richard's grip tightened on his daggers. Time I don't bloody have. "Fine," he said.
"But tell them to get their arses in gear. I think there's something else here..."
The line went silent for a beat before King responded, voice low. "Understood. Keep me posted."
With that, the connection ended. Richard let out a bitter laugh. As if I have a choice.
He glanced around.
The ruined street was littered with pools of black sludge where the Reapers had fallen. Water ran in rivulets through the debris, merging with the inky fluid to form swirling patterns. He tried to steady his breath, but there was no respite. Instinct prickled at the back of his neck again.
A presence.
A coldness that gnawed at the edges of reality.
The very air felt heavier, as if each raindrop crashed with the weight of lead. Richard's gaze swept the rubble, searching for the threat.
Why isn't the bastard saying anything about monsters coming? Where is—
At that moment, the temperature seemed to drop another few degrees.
A prickle of apprehension crawled across his skin. Somewhere, at the far corner of his vision, the shadows rippled unnaturally. He swivelled, expecting to find another wave of Reapers.