Darian's body tensed as he suppressed the familiar surge of his Draconic features. The sharp edges of claws threatened to emerge, and his skin tingled with the sensation of scales forming beneath the surface. But he couldn't afford to expose himself—not here, not now. A group was already after him, their motives unclear, and revealing more about himself would only give them an edge.
The narrow alley was silent save for the distant hum of the wind, a sharp contrast to the storm brewing within Darian. He moved forward with blinding speed, his fist aimed squarely at the masked figure's head.
The impact never landed.
The man's sword, gleaming faintly in the dim light, intercepted Darian's attack. The collision sent a sharp clang echoing through the confined space. Darian's eyes narrowed. He didn't wait; his fists became a blur as he launched a relentless barrage of punches. Each strike was faster than the last, but every one met the blade.
The masked man, unfazed, shifted his stance. With a swift, precise motion, he swung his blade in a powerful arc.
Darian reacted instantly, leaping high into the air. The blade sliced through the air beneath him, embedding itself in the wall with a sickening crunch. Dust and fragments of stone rained down, but Darian was already moving.
The battle transformed into a deadly dance. Darian's fists and the man's blade collided again and again, the alley lighting up with flashes of sparks. Neither held back, their attacks growing fiercer with each exchange.
Finally, Darian broke through. With a sudden twist of his body, he delivered a crushing punch to the man's jaw. The force sent the masked figure stumbling backward, his footing faltering as his mask cracked.
Pieces of the mask shattered and fell away, revealing a man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Blood trickled from his mouth, but instead of fear or anger, his lips curled into a grin.
"You're strong... too strong," the man muttered, his voice low but filled with amusement. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, his blade still poised.
Darian's tone was cold, measured. "Who sent you? Tell me, and maybe I'll consider letting you live."
The man chuckled, the sound carrying a hint of madness. Without a word, he surged forward, his blade slicing through the air with incredible speed. Darian barely managed to evade the initial swing, ducking and weaving as the attacks came faster and faster.
But something felt off.
A glint caught his eye—a second blade.
Darian cursed under his breath. He had been so focused on the larger weapon that he failed to notice the dagger hurtling toward him.
The blade struck true, sinking into his side.
A sharp, searing pain radiated from the wound. Darian let out a low groan, his body tensing as blood soaked through his clothes. The man smirked and retreated, leaving the dagger embedded in Darian's side.
Grimacing, Darian pulled the blade free, his hand trembling slightly as he examined it. The edge gleamed with a faint green liquid.
"Poison," he muttered, his tone steady despite the pain.
He steadied himself, relying on his system to counteract the toxin. While the bleeding slowed and the poison neutralized, something was wrong—the wound refused to close. The lingering pain gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his vulnerability.
Darian poured a fraction of his mana into the dagger, watching as it glowed with a dark purple light, similar to the masked man's blade. His eyes hardened.
Without hesitation, he charged forward. The alley lit up with flashes of steel as their weapons clashed. Sparks erupted with each collision, the air humming with energy. Darian fought with the precision of a seasoned warrior, his movements fluid and calculated.
With a feint and a quick twist, Darian found an opening. He drove his foot into the man's chest, sending him crashing into the wall. The impact left a crater, dust swirling in the air.
The man groaned, blood dripping from his lips. Still, he managed to push himself to his feet, his expression grim but defiant.
"You're better than I expected," Darian admitted, his voice tinged with begrudging respect.
The man chuckled, though it was strained. "You haven't seen anything yet."
Dark energy began to swirl around him, his body radiating with a sinister aura. Darian's eyes narrowed as the man's wounds seemed to vanish, his strength surging.
"You should've killed me when you had the chance," the man growled, his voice distorted.
He moved with inhuman speed, closing the gap in an instant. His blade became a blur, slashing across Darian's body. Darian staggered back, his clothes torn and blood seeping from fresh wounds. Each strike was faster and more brutal than the last, leaving him no room to recover.
Pain burned through him, his vision blurring as exhaustion threatened to take hold. Then, a golden light began to envelop his body.
[Transformation Imminent]
The system prompt appeared in the corner of his vision, but Darian's focus was on the man before him. He refused to lose—not now, not ever.
Claws extended from his hands, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. Scales erupted across his body, shimmering with a golden hue. Two massive wings tore free from his back, spreading wide as his aura surged. His sclera darkened, and his pupils became reptilian slits that glowed with unrestrained power.
The wounds on his body closed rapidly, the pain dissipating.
The man hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes. "What... what are you?" he stammered, his voice trembling.
Darian didn't answer. He vanished in a blur, reappearing above the man. With a deafening roar, he delivered a crushing blow that sent his opponent hurtling into the ground. The impact shook the alley, debris flying in every direction.
The man groaned, struggling to stand. His earlier confidence was gone, replaced by fear and desperation.
Darian hovered above him, his wings casting an ominous shadow. The man swung his blade in a final, desperate attack, sending a wave of dark energy toward Darian.
But it was useless.
Darian appeared behind him in the blink of an eye. With a swift motion, his claws tore through the man's arm, severing it cleanly.
The man screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees.
Darian grabbed him by the neck, lifting him effortlessly. His voice was cold, devoid of mercy. "I'll ask one more time: Who sent you?"
The man's silence was his answer.
Darian sighed, his grip tightening. "I gave you a chance."
With a sickening crack, he crushed the man's neck and tore his head from his shoulders. The lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
Darian stared at the corpse, his expression blank. "Now I look like a serial killer," he muttered, shaking his head.
Despite the victory, unease settled in his chest. Whoever had sent this man knew far too much about him. He needed to tread carefully.
From the rooftop above, a figure in a silver cloak and black mask watched silently. It had witnessed the entire battle and held a shocked expression beneath it's mask.
"Finally, I've found him," the figure murmured before disappearing into the night.