The silence after the storm was heavier than the battle itself.
Ash and dirt floated through the shattered air. Broken stone, scorched soil, and faint echoes of power still lingered like ghosts. Every breath was stung with the metallic taste of burnt energy.
Mabel Maverick stood amidst the ruins, her spear planted in the ground, her gaze was still locked on the horizon where the Masked Ones had vanished. Her body ached from the clash, but it wasn't pain that burned inside her — it was frustration.
She had faced monsters before. Rogue beasts, corrupted cultivators, even Hellforged veterans turned insane by their own power. But these ones — these masked strangers — were different. They fought like soldiers trained in silence, each movement a harmony of death. And that boy...
Mabel's eyes flicked toward the black scorch marks where he had stood — Sané, the masked one with shadows at his feet. Something about him unsettled her. He hadn't fought like a zealot or a killer. He fought like someone searching for control.
Her fingers tightened around the shaft of her spear. "Who are you really?" she murmured under her breath.
Before she could dwell on it, a familiar vibration thrummed beneath her boots — a disturbance in the ether.
Someone else was approaching.
From the distance, streaks of crimson light tore across the sky — eleven figures flying in formation, each wrapped in a cloak bearing the skull insignia of one of the most notorious families.
At their center was a young man clad in black and gold armor, his presence alone oppressive enough to make the broken air tremble. His dark hair was slicked back, his eyes were sharp, calculating.....and cold.
Ban Skull, young master of the Skull Family.
Behind him, ten Dreadmark cultivators descended in perfect synchrony, their energy signatures heavy and disciplined. Two Hellforged wardens followed, each wrapped in red aura, their faces half-covered by obsidian masks.
They landed on the shattered ground with force that made the ruins quake again.
Mabel didn't turn immediately. She didn't need to.....cause the voice was recognizable.
"Well, well…" Ban's tone was smooth, almost lazy. "If it isn't Lady Mabel Maverick — the golden blade of the East District herself. What a surprise finding you in this mess."
Mabel exhaled slowly. "Ban."
He smiled faintly and began walking forward, his boots crunching over debris. The faint scent of charred dust and blood followed him. He stopped a few paces from her, letting his gaze drift across the ruins.
"This place looks… lively," he said lightly, though his eyes flickered with suspicion. "Judging from the aura residue, you fought someone powerful. Several, actually."
His eyes lingered on a deep scar carved into the ground — the mark left by 12's energy surge. Then another — Mabel's own golden explosion. He squatted beside one of the burnt craters and traced a finger over the residue, watching the faint shimmer of dark blue energy flicker and die.
He looked back at her. "Spatial distortion. That's rare. You fought a space user?"
Mabel didn't answer.
Ban's smile didn't waver. "You did. And judging from how quiet the city has been about this, I'm guessing you let them go."
At that, Zex stepped forward, his expression dark. "Watch your tone, Ban."
"Or what?" Ban said without even glancing at him. "You'll glare me to death?"
Sax placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Not worth it."
Ban finally turned his eyes back to Mabel, the amusement fading slightly. "I'm right, aren't I? Whoever attacked this place… they got away."
"They escaped," she said, her voice calm but firm.
"Semantics." He straightened. "You're saying the great Mabel Maverick couldn't stop a few masked rats?"
Her grip tightened on her spear. "Be careful, Ban."
His smirk widened. "Or what? You'll pierce another hole in the ground? I can still feel the aftermath of your fight from the city walls. The whole district lit up like dawn. Quite the spectacle."
Their words danced like blades....as they exchanged words.
The Maverick and Skull Families had been rivals for generations, two of the five founding houses of the realms ruling order. Where the Mavericks were known for their honor and mastery of martial arts and light essence, the Skulls prided themselves on cunning, corruption, and the manipulation of fear.
Ban and Mabel had grown up together.....they were prodigies in their respective houses, trained to lead, to dominate.
But while she fought for discipline and structure, he thrived in chaos.
Years ago, during a joint operation against the Maker's curse beasts, Ban had deliberately withdrawn his forces mid-battle, causing dozens of Maverick soldiers to die. When confronted, he'd simply smiled and said, "War cleanses weakness."
Since then, Mabel had never forgiven him.
Now, seeing him here....in her territory — made her blood hum.
Cause apparently Dravenloch city is under The Maverick's Family jurisdiction.
"You shouldn't be here," she said. "Dravenloch's ruins are under Maverick jurisdiction."
He laughed. "Jurisdiction? My dear Mabel, we both know that word means nothing in a dying city."
He gestured around at the crumbled towers. "Your family barely keeps the outer wards stable. Wormholes open every week, beasts pour out, and you still talk about borders? How very… naive."
"Better naïve than heartless."
"Heartless?" Ban's tone turned mockingly thoughtful. "Maybe. But heartless men survive longer."
Her eyes flared gold for a moment. "Not forever."
Their gazes locked.... it's as if light was paired against shadow, gold against crimson. The surrounding cultivators felt the tension and instinctively backed away a few paces. Even the Hellforged wardens shifted uneasily.
Ban finally broke the silence with a small chuckle. "Relax. I'm not here to pick a fight. Yet."
"Then why are you here?"
He waved a hand lazily. "We traced a massive wormhole anomaly to this area. Our sensors recorded massive Source resonance and…" — his eyes flicked toward the scorched crater again — "something else. The energy signature of the Maker's Curse beasts."
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Tell me, Mabel. What exactly happened here?"
For a brief moment, she considered telling him the truth — about the Masked Ones, about 12's impossible power, about the way the beasts seemed to obey them.....not attacking them the slightest.
But something stopped her.
Ban Skull wasn't a man to trust. His family had always walked too close to the edge — trafficking relics, experimenting with forbidden soul-forging techniques, even selling Hollowborn corpses for research.
So she said nothing.
Ban noticed, of course. He always did. His grin sharpened. "Silent treatment, huh? Fine. I'll make my own conclusions."
He turned away, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed the destruction. "You fought a group that could overwhelm two Hellforged-class guardians and wound you. That narrows the suspects to either rogue Dreadmarks… or something much darker."
His gaze drifted toward a faint trail of black residue seeping into the ground — shadow essence. "They used this."
Mabel remained silent.
Ban knelt beside it, smirking. "I've seen energy like this before. During one of the attacks three years ago. When the Maker's Curse first appeared. Those shadows… belong to the Hollowborn."
Mabel's eyes flicked toward him sharply.
He noticed. "So I'm right."
"You don't know that."
"Oh, I do," he said smoothly, standing up. "You see, I've been studying them. Hollowborns that disappear near wormholes, only to return twisted — stronger, but changed. There's a pattern. And judging by your expression… you've seen it too."
He turned his back to her, looking out across the ruins. "You let one of them escape, didn't you?"
Her jaw clenched. "Watch your words."
"Touchy." He grinned over his shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you failed."
"I didn't fail."
He smirked. "You call this success?"
"You couldn't even stop them....from retrieving the relic"
Their eyes met again....
Ban stepped closer, his aura flaring faintly crimson. "You've always tried to be your father's perfect heir, haven't you? The shining knight of the Mavericks. But deep down, you hate how easily people die. How easily you kill."
She didn't move, but her silence was enough.
He smiled thinly. "You and I are not that different, Mabel. We both play games built by monsters. The only difference is—" he leaned in slightly "—I stopped pretending to be better than them."
Her spear's tip lifted slightly, the faint hum of golden energy surrounding it. "Leave. Now."
For a moment, Ban looked amused, then serious. "Fine."
He turned to his men. "We're done here. Search the perimeter. I want every trace of energy logged and every corpse examined."
The cultivators bowed and dispersed immediately, their forms fading into the fog and rubble. The two Hellforged wardens lingered behind him like shadows, their eyes glowing red under their masks.
Ban started walking away but paused mid-step, glancing back one last time.
"Oh, and Mabel…"
She didn't respond.
He smirked. "Next time we meet, I hope you're not standing on the losing side."
With that, he vanished — a crimson blur fading into the distance.
The ruins fell silent again.
Zex stepped beside Mabel. "We should have killed him when we had the chance."
Sax sighed. "We never had the chance. Not with his father watching every move he makes."
Mabel said nothing. She just stared at the horizon, her heart still racing.
The golden light of her aura faded, leaving only the dull gray of the ruins around her.
In her mind, she replayed Ban's words — Hollowborns that disappear near wormholes, only to return twisted — stronger, but changed.
She remembered the boy in the mask — the way his shadows had moved with intent, not malice. The confusion behind his strikes. The hesitation.
"Sané…" she whispered again, the name unfamiliar on her tongue but heavy in her chest.
Zex glanced at her. "My lady?"
"Nothing."
She turned, her cloak fluttering in the wind. "We're leaving. There's nothing left here."
As they began to walk away, Mabel cast one last look at the scorched crater in the earth — where light and shadow had met.
And for the first time in years, she wasn't sure which side she stood on.
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TO BE CONTINUED...