Once he left the slums of Berlin, Roland traveled in secrecy toward Old Spandau—a German neighborhood rich in history and symbolism. Yet, today, those riches were destined to be tainted by blood.
Ensis rested upon Roland's shoulder until his curiosity got the better of him. Flapping his paws and shifting about, he bit Roland's ear in a bid for attention. His efforts paid off when Roland turned his gaze toward the little companion.
"What's the matter, my little friend?" Roland asked, raising an eyebrow as Ensis let go of his ear.
"This Leo," Ensis began, now perched atop Roland's head. "Who is he?" His voice brimmed with curiosity and intrigue.
"Leo is my friend," Roland replied with conviction, a soft smile forming on his face. "The best sharpshooter across Europe. We were raised and trained together. He's a bit rowdy, but when it counts, he's the most trustworthy companion I could ask for."
"Wow. Even though I am your soul manifested, many parts of your past remain a mystery to me…" Ensis said, lowering his gaze in shame.
"Don't bring yourself down. The past is merely history. You'll learn more about mine when the time is right." Roland raised a hand and gently petted Ensis' head with his finger.
As they continued their journey, they finally arrived in Old Spandau. The streets were eerily silent, devoid of life. Roland felt uneasy, his body prickling as if pierced by countless unseen gazes lurking in the shadows.
"Ensis, return to your Tenere. I suspect Leo has attracted the wrong kind of crowd here…" Roland ordered, his voice steady but firm. Ensis nodded and obeyed, but before disappearing, he took one final precaution.
< Skill in use! >
D {?} - Black Sword (Nocturne): The Black Knight summons Nocturne, the harbinger of nightmares. Shrouded in mystery, its origin remains unknown. A single prophecy lingers: "The day light and darkness find the harbinger of change, Nocturne will obey."
The Black Sword Nocturne materialized, sheathed at Roland's hip. His steps grew lighter as he tread carefully through the unnerving quiet of the square. Five buildings, each seven stories tall, loomed around him like silent sentinels.
Then, an explosion erupted from the building in front of him.
Roland shielded his face with his forearms as a cloud of dust and smoke enveloped him. Two figures emerged through the chaos, one clad in a white coat and hat, the other in a black dress. They descended from the sky, landing heavily on the ground before him.
"Haha! Here I thought I was the one who was cheap!" a jubilant voice rang out, drenched in laughter.
As the dust settled, Roland's eyes locked onto the beaming face of his old friend. Leo—the White Sharpshooter—had arrived.
Leo turned, his expression turning mischievous. "Oh, hey, you're alive, Roland," he said, sticking out his tongue in mockery before breaking into a childlike laugh.
Baffled and slightly annoyed, Roland still felt relief at seeing his friend. However, another matter quickly demanded his attention—the figure in the black dress wasn't alone.
From the shadows of the surrounding buildings, over 20 assassins appeared. Roland dashed toward Leo, positioning himself to cover his back.
"Not even a hello, Leo. I'm disappointed," Roland muttered, drawing Nocturne and the pistol Maria had gifted him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Royal Highness! Should I kiss your foot too? IN THIS SITUATION?!" Leo yelled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he brandished two pristine white revolvers.
"There are 21 of them…"
"First to 11 buys the other dinner!"
They exchanged a glance of mutual understanding before the assassins charged.
Roland was the first to engage, facing a coordinated attack as they surrounded him. Their tactics were relentless, showing no hesitation in targeting him simultaneously. Roland's icy gaze didn't waver.
The first assassin swung a blade, slicing through the air, but Nocturne parried the strike. Roland used the opening to fire his pistol, the shot piercing the attacker's forehead. The assassin collapsed instantly.
Yet the others pressed on, undeterred. Roland sidestepped, dodged, and countered with precision, each movement a testament to a childhood forged in blood and pain. Though he sustained a few shallow cuts, none were enough to activate his Unyielding Resolve.
Leo wasn't far behind, his dual-wielded revolvers tearing through the skulls and bodies of the attackers. Some of his shots were so powerful that arms flew off, and assassins bled out in agony.
Roland, however, was far more unforgiving. With each swing of Nocturne, limbs were severed, and blood splattered in gruesome arcs. An assassin managed to slip behind Roland's field of vision, driving a blade into his back. But this only served to enrage him—a cruel reminder of a memory he wished to forget.
In a fit of fury, Roland seized the assassin's arm and severed it with a clean slice from Nocturne. He did not stop there. Holding the dismembered arm like a weapon, he used it to strike the assassin's head before cleanly decapitating them.
The remaining assassins froze in horror, their resolve faltering. This fear played directly into Roland's hands. His cursed aura surged, amplifying their terror until they could no longer move a muscle. He was a demon in human form. With an eerie calmness, Roland approached the six remaining assassins and cut them down brutally. One was split cleanly in half. Another had their limbs methodically removed. The remaining four, fortunate by comparison, met quicker ends with precise strikes to their hearts.
Leo's rampage continued alongside. Bullets flew as his revolvers echoed through the square, each shot spelling destruction. The scene was a bloodbath—limbs scattered across the ground, lifeless bodies twisted into grotesque shapes, and two monsters in the center of it all. One emotionless and calculated, the other reveling in every second of carnage.
One by one, the assassins fell until none were left standing. The life of an assassin is destined to end in death. Throughout history, they have either been forgotten or perished in dishonorable causes. There is no salvation for them, nor for the two warriors they fought against. It is a tragedy—but one that cannot be escaped, like a plague that spares neither the young nor the old, the beautiful nor the ugly.
Roland turned to see Leo, who had similarly dispatched his share of opponents. However, the figure in the black dress remained upright despite being riddled with bullet wounds. Bloodied but defiant, they stood tall—a testament to their tenacity.
"Merde… Espèce de salaud! {You bastard!}" the figure spat, blood dripping from their lips.
"Oh please, Mon Cher~," Leo cooed mockingly as he approached, leveling one of his revolvers at the assassin's face. "Don't hate me too much, okay?~"
With a pull of the trigger, the last assassin fell.
Roland approached Leo and slapped the back of his head.
"What the hell was that for, you depressed weirdo?!" Leo hissed, rubbing the spot.
"Where have you been for the past two years?" Roland asked, arms crossed.
"As you can tell from the language she cursed us with, I was in France—tying up some old family business."
"…You're still searching for your parents' murderer?"
Leo's gaze dropped, his usual smile fading. Without another word, he turned and began walking away.
"Come on. We have a lot to discuss," Leo called over his shoulder.
"Of course, my friend," Roland replied, following him.
The two departed the square, leaving behind the bodies of 21 assassins. Their deaths would undoubtedly attract media attention, but humans are peculiar creatures. Not everyone reacts to such tragedy in the same way.
As the duo walked onto the main streets of Old Spandau, Ensis exited his Tenere and floated in front of Roland. But something about him was off—he seemed darker than before.
"Mmmmm… Those were some good kills with Nocturne! Delightful, even!" Ensis chuckled and giggled, flitting through the air in a display of unbridled joy.
"Ensis, what are you celebrating for?" Roland asked, his tone laced with suspicion.
"Did you forget? I feed on death and darkness! Nocturne is a catalyst for that process, amplifying my power! Allow me to show you." Ensis smirked, gesturing at Roland's status window. When it appeared, Roland couldn't hide his shock.
{Status Window}
Strength (STR): 30
Energy (ENG): 35
Sanity (SNT): 5
Codex (COD): 40
{Current Unlocked Abilities}
B - Unyielding Resolve: The Black Knight is immune to fear, pain, and mental manipulation. Their will is unbreakable, enabling them to continue fighting even in the direst circumstances. However, fatal wounds—such as having their heart ripped out—will result in immediate defeat.
C - Nightmare Strike: The Black Knight can manifest a brief, terrifying image or illusion that induces fear in weaker foes. This effect causes confusion or hesitation but doesn't fully incapacitate enemies. Determined opponents or those with high mental fortitude can break through the illusion.
D - Cursed Aura: The Black Knight emits an aura that causes mild discomfort and unease to those nearby. While it doesn't cause direct harm, it can wear down weaker enemies over time, reducing their focus and will to fight.
D {?} - Black Sword (Nocturne): The Black Knight can summon forth the harbinger of nightmares, Nocturne—a sword shrouded in mystery. Its origin and true nature remain unknown, save for one cryptic line: "The day light and darkness find the harbinger of change, Nocturne will obey."
{Locked Abilities: 5}
Roland stared at the status window, his surprise morphing into curiosity. "Why aren't my five locked abilities visible this time?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Before Ensis could answer, Leo appeared on Roland's other shoulder, whistling at the sight before him.
"Here I thought you were stronger than me. Weakling," Leo teased with a mocking grin.
Roland responded swiftly, driving an elbow into Leo's gut, making him stagger back a few steps.
"Why aren't the locked abilities showing up, Ensis?" Roland repeated, his gaze sharp.
"I need you to kill more powerful people—codex users would be ideal. But also…" Ensis hesitated, his voice dropping. "That sanity stat…"
"Yes? What about it?" Roland pressed.
"If it drops below zero… you might lose yourself. You'd become a carnage-craving beast."
Roland frowned. "Is there a way to raise that stat naturally?"
"Thankfully, yes," Ensis replied. "But given what you're trying to do, it's not a permanent solution."
"And what is that, my little friend?"
"One thing you could do is lay low for a while—spend time with friends and family, and avoid stressful situations," Ensis explained, his tone calm but serious.
Before Roland could respond, another voice chimed in.
"Or… you could do what Leo does and act like an absolute idiot."
Both Roland and Ensis turned toward the source of the voice—a small, owl-like being covered in white fur with gleaming golden eyes.
"Hello! I'm Hibou!" the tiny owl chirped, smiling gleefully.
Roland blinked, utterly bewildered. "Where the hell did you come from?"