Darian sighed as he set the heavy bag of groceries at the corner of the dimly lit alley. The soft rustling of paper broke the silence, contrasting sharply with the tense atmosphere that had been brewing since he felt their presence. He straightened his posture, his expression neutral, almost bored.
The masked man standing across from him shifted slightly, his irritation evident. "Are you taking this seriously?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
Darian ignored the question, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve. "Let's begin," he said simply, his tone calm and indifferent.
The man made a slight motion with his hand. On cue, five figures leaped from the rooftops, landing with feline grace. Their boots scuffed against the cobblestones, weapons gleaming ominously under the full moon's light. They surrounded Darian, blades raised, their movements precise and practiced.
Darian observed them closely, his eyes narrowing as he silently assessed their power levels. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Impressive," he murmured. Their strength was notable—formidable, even—but nowhere near his own.
With a sharp cry, the attackers lunged, their blades cutting through the cold night air.
Darian's instincts flared, his movements becoming a blur. He ducked as the first attacker's sword whistled past his ear, his body bending like a reed in the wind. He retaliated with a sweeping kick that sent the assailant sprawling into the wall, the force of impact rendering him unconscious.
The others closed in, their speed lethal. To an average person, they would have been invisible, shadows with razor-sharp edges. But Darian wasn't average.
He sidestepped an overhead strike, delivering a brutal punch to the attacker's midsection. The man crumpled, gasping for air, before being hurled into another comrade with a single shove. Another blade arced toward Darian, but he caught the attacker's wrist with inhuman reflexes, twisting it until the weapon clattered to the ground. A precise strike to the jaw sent the man tumbling into unconsciousness.
The masked man observed the chaos with arms crossed, his posture calm but his eyes alight with interest. "He's far more capable than I anticipated," he muttered under his breath.
Darian dispatched the last of the initial group with a spinning kick that knocked two attackers out cold. His breathing was steady, his stance unshaken. "Is that all?" he called out, his tone tinged with mockery.
The masked man made another signal, and three more figures emerged from the shadows, their presence heavier and more menacing than the first group. They attacked simultaneously, their blades slicing through the air in perfect coordination.
Darian reacted instantly. He grabbed a fallen sword, its steel still warm from the previous skirmish. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it at one of the attackers, the blade embedding itself in the man's shoulder. Before the others could react, Darian closed the distance, landing a tornado kick that sent one sprawling and a devastating uppercut that left the last one crumpled on the ground.
The alley fell silent save for the labored breathing of the fallen. Darian straightened, brushing his hair back with a nonchalant hand. His eyes met the masked man's. "Are you going to just stand there and watch your subordinates get beaten to a pulp?"
The masked man chuckled softly. "You're as arrogant as they say." He drew his blade, its surface coated in a dark energy that pulsed like a heartbeat. The aura radiating from the weapon was suffocating, and Darian's brow furrowed.
For the first time, he noticed something unsettling. He couldn't read the man's power level. It was as though the figure was shrouded in an impenetrable void.
"You've proven our suspicions about you," the man said, his voice cold. "Now, I can't let you leave alive."
Darian tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. "What suspicions? Who sent you?"
The man didn't respond. In a blur, he closed the distance, his blade slicing through the space where Darian's neck had been just seconds ago. Darian ducked, his heart pounding as he felt the rush of air from the near miss.
The masked man didn't relent. He appeared before Darian again, his strikes precise and relentless. Darian dodged each one, but not without effort. This opponent was leagues above the others.
"Not bad," Darian muttered as he leaped back to create some distance.
The masked man's silence was unnerving. He adjusted his grip on the blade, the dark energy around it intensifying. He charged again, his movements almost too fast for the eye to follow.
Darian barely evaded the next strike, the blade grazing his sleeve as he twisted away. His fist shot forward, aiming for the man's torso, but the masked man parried with his sword. Sparks flew as Darian's knuckles connected with the dark steel, the force of the impact sending the man skidding backward.
The masked man regained his footing, digging his blade into the ground to slow his momentum. He straightened, adjusting his mask with one hand. "Very good," he said, his tone tinged with genuine admiration.
Darian remained silent, his eyes locked on the man. Suddenly, something flashed in his peripheral vision. A blade, thrown with deadly accuracy, hurtled toward him.
Darian twisted his body at the last second, the weapon missing him by a hair's breadth. Before he could fully process the attack, pain erupted in his abdomen. He looked down to see the masked man's blade buried deep in his gut.
The masked man chuckled, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "You're not invincible after all."
Gritting his teeth, Darian delivered a powerful kick, sending the man flying back. The blade slid free with a sickening sound, and Darian dropped to one knee, his hand clutching the wound.
The pain was sharp but fleeting. Within moments, his regenerative ability kicked in, the torn flesh knitting itself back together. Darian rose to his feet, his breathing steady once more.
The masked man's posture stiffened. Though he couldn't see the rapid healing beneath Darian's clothes, the fact that his opponent was still standing was enough to unsettle him.
Darian's lips curled into a cold smile. "You thought that would be enough?"
The masked man tightened his grip on his blade, the dark energy swirling around it like a storm. "You're full of surprises," he admitted, his voice laced with anticipation.
Darian's stare turned icy, his aura growing more oppressive with each passing second. Despite the masked man's confidence, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind.
"You're a worthy opponent," the masked man murmured, his excitement palpable. "Let's see if you can handle me at full strength."
The tension in the alley thickened as both combatants prepared for the real fight.