The air crackled with tension as Jack stood frozen, his heart racing in his chest. He had always known there was something different about Alastor, something otherworldly that he couldn't quite place. But now, standing amidst the chaos, watching the calm precision with which Alastor moved, everything fell into place. Astraliros. The name echoed in Jack's mind, a dark realization settling in. Alastor was no mere man. He wasn't even entirely human. The way Alastor always seemed to know the right moment to act, how he never broke a sweat even when everything around them seemed to be falling apart—it all made sense now.
Jack blinked, his hands shaking slightly as his mind raced. The way Alastor handled danger with that unnerving calmness. The way he always danced around questions. It was as though Alastor had been living with the knowledge of his true power for lifetimes, untouched by the fears and doubts that plagued normal people. Astraliros...
He glanced over at Emily. Her face had gone pale, eyes wide as the name was spoken aloud once more. She looked at Alastor, a deep understanding forming in her gaze. Astraliros. The pieces of the puzzle she had been trying to solve for so long finally snapped together. The odd, fleeting moments when Alastor seemed to vanish into thought, the way he deflected her questions, the mystery surrounding him—she'd always known there was more.
A faint tremor ran through her, but she shook her head, as if trying to dispel the weight of the truth. They both stood there, trying to grasp the enormity of what they had just learned, but the noise of the battle and the masked men's cold, silent stares broke through the haze.
Jack snapped to attention. The masked men weren't backing down. Their silent stares were heavy, waiting. The air was thick with threat.
"Who are you?" Alastor demanded again, his voice sharp and unwavering, his eyes burning with an intensity that matched the storm brewing around them. "And why are you after me?"
One of the masked men stepped forward, his posture unnervingly calm, as if the threat of violence didn't faze him at all. "We simply want you," he said, his voice muffled through the mask, but his words clear. "Nothing more."
Jack's chest tightened with rage. "Not gonna happen," he shouted, stepping forward, his fists clenched. His heart pounded in his ears. "You want him? You'll have to go through me first." He gestured to Emily, who stood beside him, her jaw set in determination. "And her too."
Emily's eyes flickered briefly to Jack, and then to Alastor. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice, when it came, was steady. "We're not going anywhere," she said simply, her gaze holding Alastor's. She wasn't entirely sure what had driven her to this point—perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps it was the realization that, despite everything, she couldn't turn her back on someone in danger.
Alastor glanced between them, his expression unreadable. But his voice, when it came, was calm—no trace of anger, just an unwavering focus on the danger they faced. "It's alright. But there's no time for this. Not now." His glowing eyes locked with Jack's and Emily's. "This is my fight. I'm the one they want."
Alastor's gaze shifted back to the masked men, his hands ready at his sides, the air around him pulsing with restrained power. There would be no more words. Just action.
Emily stepped forward, defiance burning in her eyes. "No." Her voice was steady, unwavering despite the fear coursing through her. "We're not leaving you to face this alone. We're your friends. We want to help."
Jack nodded, his stance widening as if to root himself to the ground. "You heard her. We're not going anywhere. If they want you, they'll have to deal with us first."
Alastor clenched his fists, frustration flickering across his face. His lips parted as if to argue further, but the sudden shift in the masked men's movements stopped him.
The leader stepped forward, tilting his head as he raised a hand. The tension snapped like a taut wire as the men prepared to strike, their movements fluid and deliberate. The air seemed to hum with danger.
Jack dropped into a ready stance, his eyes narrowing. His weeks of karate training surged to the forefront of his mind, his muscles tightening in preparation. Emily, on the other hand, gritted her teeth. She had no training, no techniques to rely on, but her determination burned brightly. She picked up a fallen pipe from the ground, holding it awkwardly but firmly, ready to swing if needed.
The first masked man lunged forward, his blade gleaming. Jack moved like water, sidestepping and countering with a swift strike to the man's wrist. The weapon clattered to the ground, but another man was already closing in. Jack spun, blocking a blow with his forearm and retaliating with a kick that sent the second man stumbling.
Emily darted forward, swinging her pipe with all her might. The impact wasn't enough to take the man down, but it forced him to stumble—just enough time for Jack to deliver a precise kick that sent the attacker sprawling.
She darted to Jack's side, swinging her pipe at another attacker. Her aim was clumsy, her movements driven more by adrenaline than skill, but it bought Jack a moment to regroup. Alastor, meanwhile, kept his focus on the leader, who watched the fight unfold with unsettling calmness.
As Emily turned to face another assailant, the glint of a blade caught her eye. She barely had time to react as the attacker brought the starbreaker blade down in a deadly arc toward her. Her breath hitched, her body frozen in the split second before impact.
And then, in a blur, Alastor was there.
The world seemed to slow as he moved, his body a streak of motion. The blade passed through empty air as he pulled Emily out of harm's way, his arm tightening protectively around her. They skidded to a stop a few feet away.
Emily's heart pounded in her chest, her voice trembling as she looked up at him. "Thank you."
Alastor didn't respond, his focus already back on the fight. His eyes flicked to Jack, who was holding his own but beginning to falter under the relentless onslaught. One of the masked men feinted, drawing Jack's attention, while another struck from the side. Jack barely turned in time, the blade slicing into his shoulder. He cried out, stumbling back, his hand flying to the wound as blood began to seep through his fingers.
"Jack!" Alastor's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with concern. He started toward him, his superhuman speed a blur again. But the leader of the masked men had been waiting for this moment.
With a calculated motion, he hurled the starbreaker blade. It whistled through the air, a deadly projectile aimed at Alastor.
Alastor pivoted, catching sight of the blade at the last second, but it was too late. The weapon struck him in the upper back, the force driving it through his body. The blade pierced through his chest, its jagged edge protruding, glinting with an otherworldly sheen. Alastor staggered, a strangled gasp escaping him as he fell to his knees.
"Alastor!" Jack's and Emily's voices rang out in unison, their cries filled with raw, desperate anguish. They rushed toward him, but the masked men closed ranks, blocking their path.
Alastor's hands trembled as he gripped the hilt of the blade embedded in him. His breathing was ragged, his strength sapped by the weapon's cursed effects. His vision blurred, but his gaze remained fixed on Jack and Emily. Even as darkness began to close in, a faint, defiant light burned in his eyes.
The leader stepped forward, his cold voice slicing through the chaos. "Astraliros... it's over."
Alastor's scream tore through the bar, raw and agonized, as the starbreaker blade remained lodged in his chest. He clutched at the ground, his fingers scraping against the wood as his strength ebbed away. The blade's effect was crippling, not just physically but cosmically, as though the stars within him were dimming.
Jack and Emily, their faces pale with panic, bolted toward him. But before they could reach him, two masked men intercepted them, wrenching them back with brutal force.
"Let me go!" Jack roared, struggling against the vice grip of his captor. His injured shoulder flared with pain, but he refused to stop fighting.
Emily kicked and thrashed, her nails clawing at the arms holding her. "Alastor!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "We have to help him!"
Alastor's head hung low, his breaths ragged and shallow. His glowing eyes, once so fierce and unyielding, were now dim, flickering like dying embers. He tried to push himself up, his arms trembling violently beneath him.
He clenched his fists, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. He'd tried so hard to keep them out of this, to shield them from the life he thought he'd left behind. And now, here they were—fighting for him, bleeding for him. He couldn't let it happen again.
The leader of the masked men strode forward, his steps deliberate and predatory. He loomed over Alastor, tilting his head as if savoring the moment.
"You've fought well," the leader said, his voice calm and condescending. "But it's over. You're coming with us."
Alastor didn't respond. His body swayed, his knees buckling beneath him, but something shifted in his expression—something resolute.
"No," he murmured, his voice weak but defiant.
The leader stopped, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
Alastor raised his head slowly, strands of dark hair falling over his face. "I said... no." His voice gained strength, a deep resonance that cut through the tension in the room. "I should've done this a while back."
The masked men exchanged uneasy glances, their grip on Jack and Emily faltering.
Alastor placed his trembling hands on the ground, drawing in a shuddering breath. The air around him began to vibrate, an unseen force growing steadily stronger. The faint hum of energy became a deafening roar, shaking the very foundation of the room.
The leader's eyes widened. "Stop him!"
It was too late.
Alastor slammed his hands together in a thunderous clap.
The resulting shockwave wasn't just sound; it was pure, unbridled force. It erupted outward, obliterating the starbreaker blade lodged in his chest and every other blade in the room. The shards disintegrated midair, leaving trails of glowing dust before fading into nothingness.
The shockwave didn't stop there. It tore through the bar with cataclysmic power, flinging everyone and everything in its path.
Jack was hurled backward, his body slamming against the wall. His head struck the wood with a sickening thud, and he slumped to the ground, dazed.
Emily screamed as she was thrown across the room. She landed hard on her back, the air knocked from her lungs. The masked man holding her was blasted into a nearby wall, his body crumpling to the floor.
The ceiling groaned under the strain. Dust and debris rained down as wooden beams splintered and crashed to the ground. The bar was collapsing in on itself, the destruction total and indiscriminate.
Alastor knelt at the epicenter of the chaos, his body trembling with exertion. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, blood pooling beneath him where the blade had pierced. Despite the devastation around him, his glowing eyes burned brighter than ever, defiant and unyielding.
"Emily... Jack..." he rasped, barely audible over the cacophony of destruction.
Emily groaned, trying to push herself up on trembling arms. Her vision swam as she turned her head, spotting Jack slumped against the wall. He wasn't moving.
The leader of the masked men staggered to his feet, his mask cracked but still intact. He surveyed the wreckage, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to Alastor.
"You're more trouble than you're worth," he muttered, his tone filled with grudging respect. He motioned to the remaining masked men. "We're leaving. Let's go."
One of the masked men pulled a glowing object from his cloak, its sharp, gleaming edges reflecting the dim light. Alastor's eyes widened in disbelief as recognition struck him. A light crystal—a rare and powerful artifact. The masked man held it aloft, and its glow intensified, creating a swirling portal of radiant light behind them.
Emily gasped audibly, shielding her face from the brightness. "What... what is that?" she stammered, her voice trembling. Her wide eyes reflected both awe and fear as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing.
Alastor's gaze remained fixed on the crystal, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. How do they have that? he thought, his mind racing. The fact that these masked men had one—and knew how to use it—only deepened the mystery.
The masked men began retreating into the portal, their forms dissolving into the swirling light.
The leader lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Alastor. "Consider this a message from the Phantom," he said coldly, his voice laced with finality.
Alastor clenched his teeth, frustration and exhaustion warring within him. Phantom—who are they? The name echoed in his mind, heavy with foreboding. Was it someone they served? Someone more dangerous than these men?
With a flash, the portal collapsed, leaving only silence and the faint smell of scorched air behind.
Alastor collapsed onto his side, his strength utterly spent. The faint glow in his eyes dimmed, and darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision. His last thoughts were a chaotic mix of the light crystal, the portal, and the name Phantom. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Emily crawling toward him, her hand outstretched and tears streaming down her face.