Desperate Gambits

Luke looked up at Ashtor, and for the first time since stepping into this chamber, he felt it—fear.

Not just the fear of death.

The fear that Ashtor would draw this out, savor it. That he would take his time breaking them, twisting their pain into something far worse than a simple end. That he would leave their bodies here, discarded like the countless corpses that had already bled into these walls.

And worst of all—the fear that Luke would never get his revenge on Solen.

Above him, Ashtor still giggled to himself, his mangled face warped into that same deranged grin. He stared down at Luke as if he were nothing more than an insect pinned under his boot.

"I was right to listen to Solen," Ashtor murmured, almost in admiration. "This opportunity is beyond perfect."

The words sent a shock through all three of them. Kuro's muscles tensed. Eleanor's grip on her bow tightened. But none were more shaken than Luke.

He's working with Solen?

His pulse pounded in his ears. Is Ashtor a Hand of Fate?

Because if he was—this fight was beyond lost.

As if answering the unspoken question, Ashtor continued, his voice casual, unconcerned. "Perhaps after killing you three, I'll try to become a Hand of Fate instead of remaining a mere Member."

Dread settled into their bones.

But at the same time… relief.

He wasn't a Hand of Fate. That meant they could fight him. It was a slim chance, barely worth considering, but it was better than none.

And yet—what terrified them wasn't the battle in front of them. It was the implication behind Ashtor's words.

The Hands of Fate are recruiting more members. More people like Ashtor—powerful in their own right.

Luke's mind spun, piecing together the puzzle. Why would Ashtor attack us? If the Hands of Fate wanted to collect the relics, why would they have let Ashtor tell them that the Abnormal Relic had returned?

They could've just stayed silent. We'd have never known the relic was back in the first place.

Unless…

Ashtor wasn't ordered to do this.

He's doing this on his own.

Kuro took a step forward, his entire body trembling with rage.

"Ashtor," he growled. "Is this why you're doing this? Because Solen told you to? Did you truly betray Kael and the people for this?" His voice rose into a furious roar.

At the mention of Kael's name, Ashtor snapped.

His advent surged outward in a violent wave. The air itself cracked under the pressure, forcing them all back. Even the skeletal spine above them rattled, shifting as if reacting to his fury.

"YOU STAY QUIET, YOU BEAST!"

Ashtor's voice was deafening, his distorted body trembling with wrath. "THE HUMANS KILLED YOUR FATHER—AND HERE YOU ARE, TEAMING UP WITH ONE! A FILTHY CREATURE LIKE YOU HAS NO RIGHT TO EXIST AS HIS SON! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!"

Luke flinched.

Not from Ashtor's rage.

But from the words.

Kuro is Kael's son?

It hit him like a strike to the gut. That's why the Abnormals in the Labyrinth respect him. That's why he knew so much about Kael. That's why…

He couldn't think about that now.

They had more pressing problems.

Eleanor can barely use her essence. She's likely down to four arrows at most.

I'm running out of advent, and I'm recovering too slowly to compensate for how much I've already used Code. My femur can't even hold its size properly anymore.

And getting stabbed?

Luke gritted his teeth. It feels like my advent recovery's slowed down even more.

Only Kuro could last in an endurance fight.

Ashtor's leg was still crushed. Regardless of how much he's laughing, he should be feeling pain. He should be suffering some kind of drawback.

Luke tried to keep thinking, tried to formulate something—anything. But Ashtor was already moving.

The deformed monster loomed above him, blade gleaming, poised to strike—

Kuro blurred forward, his speed form kicking in as he grabbed Luke and ripped him away from danger. He skidded to a stop beside Eleanor, setting Luke down with controlled force.

The three of them locked eyes.

They knew.

This was their one shot.

Eleanor moved first.

She loosed an arrow straight at Ashtor's chest. He scoffed, easily lifting his blade to block—

And in that moment, he realized his mistake.

Kuro had already moved. He and Luke were on either side of him, both launching simultaneous attacks.

Ashtor phased.

Both of their strikes passed through his intangible form harmlessly.

He sneered. Kuro wasn't a concern—only his strength form could hit with enough power to matter, and Ashtor could react to it with ease. That left—

Another arrow.

It whizzed past his face, missing him entirely.

His sneer widened. Pathetic.

But then—something seized his leg.

Binary-coded tendrils wrapped around him in an instant, and before he could react, his body was yanked off balance, flung toward Kuro.

Luke's plan.

The arrow wasn't meant to hit him.

It was meant to block his vision.

Long enough for Luke to use Code and throw him toward Kuro—compensating for the lack of speed.

For the first time, Ashtor felt a flicker of surprise.

It was a plan born from improvisation. Unspoken, uncoordinated—but effective.

Still—

It was too slow.

As Kuro's fist came crashing down, Ashtor shimmered.

His body flickered—then he was gone.

Kuro's punch slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave of dust and blood into the air.

Luke tensed. In the haze of dust, he spotted movement—

A shadow.

A hooded figure.

Without hesitation, he transformed his femur into a blade, extending it with advent. He swung in a wide, horizontal arc.

The shadow split in two.

For a fleeting second, relief flooded Luke's chest. He couldn't see through the dust. I got him—!

The dust cleared.

Nothing but a cloak.

Ashtor's cloak.

He wasn't wearing it.

A chill ran down Luke's spine.

A sudden movement.

And then—pain.

A blade drove into his other arm.

Luke gasped, his body locking up as the agony tore through him. He nearly collapsed, barely keeping himself upright. His vision swam. His breath hitched.

Ashtor loomed over him, the deranged amusement returning to his features.

"Not bad," he murmured, voice cold. "But you lack experience."

Then—his expression shifted.

From amusement—

To pain.

A choked gasp left Ashtor's lips.

At the exact same moment he stabbed Luke—

Kuro's claws buried deep into his back.

Ashtor turned sharply, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Impossib—"

Kuro stood behind him.

Not in his strength form. Not in his speed form.

His base form.

The one that let him keep everything. Power, speed, senses.

Enough to see the shadow in the dust.

Ashtor's body shimmered violently. He phased back, staggering, panting. His back was torn apart—his wounds deep, his essence faltering.

The trio exhaled.

They'd done it. They landed the damage they needed.

But the moment of triumph was fleeting.

Because then—

Ashtor's breathing steadied.

He straightened.

And he smirked.

"Never thought I'd have to use my trump card," he said.

And then—

He vanished.