Shun Xshasi and Dharma Leyndra moved silently through the desolate expanse of the capital outskirts. The usual riffraff, bandits, and outlaws chose to steer clear of their path. Gone was the madness and chaos that once clung to Dharma; his presence now radiated an eerie calm, a refined menace that struck far deeper than raw lunacy. Out here, amidst the lawless, an unpredictable killer was a threat, but one who killed with logic and precision was terrifying.
"We're close," Dharma murmured, his voice low and ominous. "Hugo Goldsmith's quarters."
Shun nodded, squinting at the dust-ridden horizon where the shape of a crumbling, tattered fort emerged. But something was off. His innate ability to sense connections with ethereal arms found no trace within the structure, meaning no presence of life either.
"Where did that young bastard run off to?" Dharma muttered. "The entire Blacksand Clan has vanished."
Shun glanced at him but didn't waste time asking questions. "Doesn't matter. He wasn't worth my attention."
Dharma chuckled darkly. "Hehahaha, I know he's only the 94th complete ethereal warrior, but still, a complete ethereal arm is always a good addition to your collection, no?"
Shun froze momentarily, but only for an instant. Despite his effort to appear composed, the subtle tension in his body betrayed him. Dharma, sharp as ever, noticed and quickly backtracked. "Relax, not many know about your ability. And those who do? They'll guard your secret with their lives. That's why I follow your lead, even if you irritate me sometimes."
A brief, sorrowful gleam flickered in Dharma's eyes, but it vanished before Shun could register it. "Everything else aside, you, boy, are my only future. I've waited a long time for your arrival. Don't let me down."
The smile Dharma gave was one of unsettling warmth, and it left Shun more cautious than reassured. He realized, as with many others he'd crossed paths with, that Dharma knew more about his lineage—more about him—than Shun himself.
"Dharma," Shun began, his curiosity getting the better of him, "do you know why I have this ability?"
Dharma scratched his chin. "To be honest, no one does. Not a soul in this world. Maybe it's a gift from god, like those given to the Three Champions." His voice dripped with sarcasm at the mention of the fabled heroes.
Shun, sensing no further answers from him, shifted focus back to their mission. "Should we look for the other Blackguards, then?"
Dharma didn't miss a beat. "Vivid's base is on the far side of the outskirts. It'll take a while to get there. But first," he gestured toward the distance, "we'll pay a visit to Alice Clayton."
Dharma already started walking, this time, Shun followed him.
As they proceeded, a few unfortunate souls made the mistake of confronting them. Before Shun could act, Dharma's scythe cleaved through the air with terrifying ease. Bodies fell without resistance, as though life had been snatched away in the blink of an eye. Even in the Outskirts, Dharma Leyndra's name was a legend spoken in hushed tones. Yet, no one truly knew what he looked like, and the "Living Demon" in people's eyes was nothing close to the refined and calm elder Dharma is now.
Shun still didn't fully understand the nature of Dharma's ethereal arm, but the raw energy it exuded was enough to unsettle even the most hardened warrior. It barely affected Shun, though, a peculiarity he made note of but didn't dwell on.
After hours of walking, they finally reached Alice Clayton's residence. Where Hugo's hideout was a dilapidated fort, this place was a startling contrast. A grand castle, its opulence glaringly out of place in the barren wastelands, stood before them. Its grandeur was a beacon, but rather than promise safety, it only heightened the sense of lurking danger.
Dharma frowned, his fingers tugging at his thin moustache. "Odd… Last time I was here, Alice and Hugo were very much alive. How could both their clans disappear without a trace?"
"Perhaps," Shun suggested, "the news was suppressed. Controlled, to avoid drawing too much attention."
Dharma's eyes twinkled with grudging approval. "Good point. If Vivid Nollen's gang is gone too, things are going to get very interesting."
Without waiting for further conversation, Dharma turned, his pace quickening as he led Shun toward their next destination. This time, he slowed, allowing Shun to walk beside him, and the two fell into conversation to pass the hours. Dharma recounted his troubled past as the descendant of Tyrant Kolgwyn's commander, his life shaped by tragedy and rejection. Shun couldn't help but feel an unsettling kinship with the man.
Like him, he had lost everything.
Like him, he had been ridiculed and targeted by a world that saw him as inferior.
Like him, Dharma had chosen to wield his hatred as a weapon, carving out his place in a hostile world.
But there was a difference. Where Shun had risen to enjoy some measure of the life he'd always craved, Dharma remained locked in his own cycle of destruction. Even as the 12th complete ethereal warrior, the kingdom had offered him nothing but suppression and assassination attempts.
Sympathy—no, something deeper—flickered within Shun, but he quickly dismissed it. It was not empathy, he told himself, just the inevitable connection between two souls equally scarred by the world.
As night approached and the sun dipped lower, Shun decided that regardless of what awaited them at Vivid's base, they would take no further action until another day. More enemies surfaced as they continued their journey, but each was effortlessly dispatched by Dharma's lethal precision.
Finally, they arrived at a desolate flatland, unnaturally even and devoid of any natural cover.
"This is Vivid Nollen's base," Dharma announced.
Shun gestured to the barren ground. "It's underground, isn't it?"
Dharma gave a small nod, his scythe once again materializing in his hands, its presence heavy with malice.
Shun closed his eyes for a moment, focusing. This time, he felt it, a lot of connections.
A serious lot of connections.