"Damn! You are with a Grade-one Shifter?" Vera exclaimed before saying seriously, "Pray the shifter hasn't devoured enough bloodline or you're cooked."
Dion remained still as he listened. He could hear their footsteps beating against the floor as they ran towards his direction.
An animalistic growl escaped the man's lips. Even his arm muscles have expanded, straining his tracksuit.
Karen quickly explained, "Listen Dion. Shifters have the kind of Valka's ability; beast physical strength in human form. They are humans who devoured the bloodlines of people from the Aeon realm to increase their power. So, good luck surviving it."
"You're talking to others?" The man questioned and tilted his head but Dion didn't react.
"How did you know I'm a Hexz?" Dion asked calmly while making calculations.
"I guessed at first to make you show me your features. If you're a martial knight, then you would have displayed your weapon. If you're a shifter, then you would have extended your claws. My guess seems to be accurate," the man spoke, taking a step back to assume a defensive stance.
Dion mirrored the man's movement, planting his feet firmly on the ground.
Then the man curled his hands into claw-like shapes, discarding the duffel bag with a dismissive gesture. Dion balled his hands into fists, readying himself for the impending clash.
Both combatants locked eyes, their breaths held in anticipation. The gentle caress of the wind provided a whispered encouragement as the all-encompassing darkness silently bore witness to the standoff.
Dion abruptly lunged forward and swung his fist at the man's face. With a subtle tilt of his head, the man evaded the punch effortlessly, simultaneously swiping his razor-sharp claws toward Dion's visage.
Dion instinctively recoiled, but the man, as if anticipating his move, advanced. Dion twisted his head but the man's claws still grazed the side of his face, tearing through a portion of his mask and leaving behind four distinct, crimson-tinged claw marks.
Retreating five steps, Dion distanced himself from his opponent, his heart pounding in his chest.
The man, a twisted smile playing upon his lips, licked the blood from his claws, relishing in the taste. Dion gingerly touched the torn section of his mask, feeling the slow trickle of blood as the claws had grazed his skin.
'I need to activate my eye intent but it will drain me. Practicing what Ivy taught me? Yeah, that feels like the right thing. And… I've also lost the earbud,' Dion thought in silence as he watched the man lick his blood.
The man, his lips still tainted with Dion's blood, flashed an eerie smirk before launching himself forward, his clawed hands slashing at Dion's chest with deadly precision.
Dion's body arched backward, his hand finding support on the floor as he whipped his leg towards the man's head.
Displaying remarkable agility, the man deflected the attack with his arm, but before he could regain his balance, Dion's other leg surged forward, crashing into his feet. The man stumbled, hurtling towards Dion.
Still maintaining his one-handed stance on the floor, Dion unleashed a powerful punch aimed at the man's incoming face.
Just as the punch neared its target, the man snatched Dion's fist with one hand, his other clawed hand sweeping towards Dion's throat, all while balancing on a single foot.
Dion's eyes widened in shock as he realized what had happened — he had been deceived by the man's fake fall. Desperation surged within him as he tried to roll aside, desperately attempting to evade the incoming claw aimed at his throat. But the man's grip on his fist remained unyielding, his claws already sinking into Dion's flesh.
The whooshing sound of the claw cutting through the air echoed in his ears, fueling his adrenaline.
Dion didn't hesitate, summoning every ounce of strength as he pulled against the man's iron grip, ignoring the searing pain.
BANG–!
The man's hand slammed into the floor, leaving a deep gouge in its wake before he swiftly turned his attention back to Dion.
Dion sprang to his feet, retreating from the man's reach until he was halted by the obstruction of the wall. Sneaking a glance at the back of his palm, his eyes widened at the sight of five deep gashes oozing with his blood. A glimpse of bone peeked through the shredded skin.
Dion's heart couldn't stop beating wildly as he escaped death by a margin. He was surprised the man stood there and watched him quietly, only smirking.
'He can't attack? No, impossible. Wait… shifter devours bloodlines, so he needs my blood. Our power difference isn't much, so he can't stop me if I want to run. Also, he doesn't know my face to find me. He's luring me to continue the fight!'
Dion's eyes narrowed behind his mask. The man looked almost as clean as Dion first met him. When he looked at himself, Dion was flabbergasted.
His appearance had been marred by the dust of battle, and his once immaculate attire was now tattered and stained with the evidence of their struggle. The torn side of his mask bore the marks of four deep scratches, a stark reminder of the man's lethal claws. Dust clung to his perspiration-soaked skin, leaving a gritty residue on his back as evidence of the ferocity of their clash. And as his hand throbbed with pain, blood trickled steadily from the wounds inflicted upon it.
'He is more experienced than me. He flawlessly incorporates impromptu deception into his fighting style. To get him, I need to… wait, why am I getting him? I only need to get the money.'
Dion's eyes fell on the bag that lay freely on the floor.
'I need to overwhelm him with speed and stop him from calculating, then take the bag.'
Dion clenched his right hand, blood dripping from his knuckles as he folded it into a determined fist. The man before him tilted his head in response, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, Dion launched himself forward, unleashing a powerful punch aimed straight at the man's stomach.
The man, quick on his feet, managed to deflect the blow, but Dion didn't let up. One, two, three… punch after punch, he unleashed a relentless onslaught, his tempo raging like a storm. The man, though skilled in his defense, found himself gradually stepping back under the weight of Dion's insidious and fierce assault.
Dion maintained his rhythm, his punches flowing like the well-oiled pistons of an engine. He knew that disrupting this fierce tempo would open himself up to a devastating counterattack. Drawing upon the teachings of Ivy, he allowed himself to let go, to tap into his true potential. He had always held back against Ivy, but now, facing a powerful opponent, a fire ignited within him, driving him to keep punching with all his might. Yet, amidst the intensity, he didn't forget his goal, driving the man towards his calculated position for his plan.
Only when the man launched his attacks with his legs did Dion raise his legs to deflect and block. He relief on punches. Every move became a calculated dance, a symphony of punches and evasions.
Suddenly, the man tripped over a trash bag on the floor.
'That's it!' Dion sent a punch at the man's stomach and instantly activated his eye intent.
[Eyes of Dread Activated!]
The man's arm, halfway raised in defense, faltered under the influence of Dion's intimidating intent. With blazing momentum, Dion's punch collided with the man's vulnerable stomach. Sensing an opportunity, Dion wasted no time and dashed towards the duffel bag lying on the floor.
But just as Dion's fingers closed around the bag, he felt a presence looming over him. Dion snapped his head around. In sheer horror, he found the man's wide maw inches away from his face, aiming to tear into his neck.
Dion's eyes dilated in shock, realizing his Eye intent had failed him this time. Panic surged through his veins as he felt the man's presence too close to evade. 'Is this how it ends? Is this how I meet my demise?'
It was too late to react. Even with pumping adrenaline, he couldn't escape the imminent danger.
PIU–!
Suddenly, the weight of the man crashed onto Dion's body, sending both of them tumbling to the floor. To his astonishment, Dion felt no pain. He swiftly pushed the man's head off his body, his hands coming into contact with a sticky liquid. As he sat up, Dion followed the source of the liquid, his gaze falling upon the blood seeping from the back of the man's head.
"A bullet wound? Karen?" Dion muttered, a mix of surprise and relief washing over him. It was only Karen who held a snipper.
He removed the tattered mask barely covering his face, allowing fresh air to fill his lungs before turning his attention back to the duffel bag.
But before he could proceed, a black shadow lunged at the bag from above, causing Dion to abruptly halt in his tracks. His eyes met with a pair of glowing blue eyes, belonging to a figure entirely clad in black from head to toe.
'Blue iris... Realm wanderer! A Nixara bloodline!'
Dion lunged at the mysterious person without thinking twice because his price was involved. However, before he could catch up, the mysterious individual snatched the bag and vanished into the darkness with astonishing speed.
"Dammit! Nixara bloodlines are renowned for their swiftness," Dion cursed under his breath, a mix of frustration and exhaustion setting in. His body had weakened slightly after utilizing his Eye of Dread, leaving him less than optimal for pursuit.
Taking a moment to scan the floor anxiously, ignoring the throbbing pain coursing through his body, Dion's eyes landed upon his earbud lying not far away. He rushed towards it, ready to retrieve it and contact Karen, but a cold metal pressing against the back of his head brought him to an abrupt halt.
Dion froze, every muscle tense, as he cautiously glanced behind him with the corner of his eye. There, he saw the muzzle of a pistol pressed against his skull.
"If you move, you're dead!" a voice hissed, sending a shiver down Dion's spine.
His mind raced, cursing himself for neglecting to observe his surroundings due to the distraction caused by the elusive Nixara individual. The gun was too close to escape. A mere twitch of the finger and his fate was sealed. But amidst the fear and uncertainty, Dion's nose caught a familiar scent, causing his pupils to constrict in shock. Even without seeing the person's face, he knew exactly who lurked behind him.
'Well, well... it seems I've underestimated you.'