Athena stood paralyzed—only her eyes remained free, darting frantically across the scene until she saw her master.
Nova was nearby, frozen mid-step with one hand outstretched, as if trying to block an incoming blow. The other knights around her were suspended like insects in amber—one with his blade halfway drawn, another caught mid-leap.
Then she saw her father, just to her side. Her heart leapt. She tried to call out to him.
But before she could utter a sound, a wave of dark, suffocating power swept over her. Her eyes widened in fear and snapped toward the source.
It was the masked man—he was moving.
He wore an ivory-white mask, marred by a jagged red slash running diagonally across the face. Its unnaturally smooth surface was devoid of any openings, not allowing any hints of the person's identity.
A red cloak unfurled on his back like the wings of a vengeful god. It hovered and moved with a life of its own, like a fluid cape caught in an unseen current.
As Athena watched him, his image flickered and twitched unnaturally like a corrupted hologram. One moment he was there, the next he reappeared a few feet to the side, then again in another spot. His movements weren't just fast—they were wrong, like reality couldn't quite hold him still.
Then—he vanished.
In a blink, he stood behind Master Nova and gently pressed his hand against her back. And in the next heartbeat, a jagged crimson spike burst violently through her chest.
Blood sprayed across the frozen ground. A mist of red escaped her lips. Her wide, shocked eyes locked onto Athena's for a brief second—then she collapsed.
Shocked in disbelief, Athena screamed, ripping through her mind. "MASTER!" Her breath caught in her throat, and tears poured down her face.
But then, the masked man slowly turned his gaze on her.
As he stepped forward, something impossible happened—another version of him peeled away from his body. Then another. And another, until five clones roamed about. They each glitched and twitched like broken reflections, staggering at unnatural speeds, limbs jittering as if the world struggled to process their existence.
Each one darted toward a different Renowned Knight.
Athena couldn't move, nor could she speak. She could only watch in paralyzed terror as death unfolded before her:
A clean slit across a throat—blood fountaining like a grotesque fountain.
An arm torn clean from its socket—then the other.
A head was cut off and rolled across the ground.
A hand plunged into the chest of another.
One by one, the knights fell.
All Athena could do was watch in horror as her heart thundered against her ribs. Her lungs felt crushed. She wanted to look away—but couldn't.
No… no… no!!!
Why is this happening?
Why are you doing this?
This wasn't just slaughter.
This was a nightmare made real.
After the last of the knights fell, the twisted clones turned in unison—toward her father.
"Father, run!" She tried to yell, but couldn't.
The clones approached him slowly, each one drawing a small, rusted knife. The blades looked dull, corroded by time, yet somehow more terrifying because of it. They circled him like vultures closing in on dying prey.
Athena's body trembled.
Father… no… please… not him…
One of the clones moved first, plunging a knife straight into his chest. Another followed, stabbing him in the back. Then came the third—driving the blade into his head.
Blood gushed from the wounds, splattering across the clones like a grotesque painting. King Raphael's scream tore through the air—a raw, guttural cry that drilled into Athena's mind and echoed endlessly.
Her knees buckled. Her stomach twisted. She wanted to vomit, to collapse—but something kept her conscious. Kept her eyes locked. It was torture.
Aaah! STOP! Please—STOP!
She screamed in her mind.
But they didn't stop. They didn't even flinch. Their movements were blank, empty—like soulless puppets going through the motions of a grim ritual.
They stabbed him again. And again.
Over and over.
Until finally—he fell.
Her father collapsed to the ground, his once-powerful form crumpled and motionless.
Athena stared, numb and wide-eyed, as blood pooled around him.
It didn't feel real.
But it was.
Her father… gone.
Slaughtered before her eyes.
Just like that—
She was alone.
One by one, the clones turned to face Athena.
Her breath caught. A chilling, nameless fear flooded her body. It was now her turn to die, but how would it happen? She wondered.
Without a word, the clones began to float—weightless, like specters in the air. Then, slowly, they drifted toward one another, merging into a single form—the masked man himself, now walking straight toward her.
Suddenly, the world around her began to shift.
What…? What is happening?
Her father, lying a mere feet away, began dissolving like smoke in a breeze. His familiar form crumbled away particle by particle.
This can't be happening. This isn't real. Somebody save me… she cried, as her eyes darted wildly.
One by one, her master and the Renowned Knights bled away like watercolors running down a canvas, colors and shapes melting into an all-consuming darkness. Even sound itself seemed to dissolve, leaving behind a silence so absolute it pressed against her eardrums like a physical weight.
Once the world around her had completely faded into an abyss of nothingness, only she and the masked man remained.
Darkness swallowed everything else, leaving only the faint, eerie glow of his crimson cloak to light the emptiness.
He continued to approach her until he was a foot away, tilting his head slightly, and staring down at her.
"So… this is her…" he said, his deep raspy voice intimidating and forceful.
He held her face.
"I've waited for this moment longer than you could possibly imagine."
Then his head twitched as he scanned her from head to toe.
"Let me end it now… End it… before it can even begin."
The words, combined with his icy touch, sent a chill down her spine. In that instant, his cloak erupted with a blinding power.
He threw his head back and unleashed a bone-chilling laugh that echoed through the endless void.
But the laughter died abruptly as he stood motionless, as if listening to a voice only he could hear.
"But I can feel it," he said. "It's right there... faint—but there nonetheless."
His eager hands trembled as he reached. "I… can't resist… I must have it."
He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her effortlessly off the ground.
Athena struggled with every ounce of strength, but her limbs wouldn't respond. She dangled helplessly, like a lifeless doll. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her vision blurred, her life flashing before her. She choked. She couldn't breathe. Consciousness began to fade.
Then, suddenly, he released her.
His head snapped upward, staring into the sky, and Athena collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.
The man exhaled slowly, almost wistfully.
"Urgh…," he groaned, "your command is absolute, Master."
He knelt on one knee and grabbed her by the hair, bringing her face to his. Her skin pressed against the cold surface of his mask, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued to struggle to catch her breath.
"You're afraid," he whispered.
Athena's body shivered in response.
"Good. Fear… is a powerful tool. It makes you useful."
Then he extended his hand, and a small black orb no larger than a marble materialized in his palm. With his other hand, he effortlessly conjured a glowing magical array, its intricate symbols and patterns woven together with a precision that spoke of his mastery.
He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and a blinding flash erupted between them. Before Athena could process what was happening, he pressed the fused creation firmly against her forehead, causing her body to react violently.
For an instant, her mind plunged into a void of emptiness. Her eyes rolled back, exposing the whites as her mouth stretched open in a silent scream. Then, dark tendrils of smoke seeped from her mouth, ears, and eyes, twisting and curling into the air like malevolent shadows.
She remained frozen in that position as he leaned in closer, inches away from her ear.
"Consider yourself fortunate, I won't be killing you today. For you see… you are nothing more than a frightened little pawn in a game far bigger than you'll ever understand."
He paused and turned to face her.
"But don't worry. Whether you like it or not, you'll have your part to play. After all, pawns are always the first to fall."
With that, he released her face, and the darkness around them began to dissolve, including the masked man. The void slowly faded into the familiar surroundings of the hangar. The man had returned to his original position, and the world reverted to the moment before Master Nova's death.
The invisible force vanished, and Landen sprang into action.
"Knights!" he said. "This is the one. Show him no mercy!"