They Are Watching...

The wind howled through the crumbling ruins of the monastery, carrying with it whispers of forgotten souls. Jin stood motionless, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his newly claimed blade. Though the spectral presence had vanished, its words lingered in his mind.

"They are already watching, traveler. Run while you still can."

He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on him. Was it merely the remnants of lingering spirits, or was something else lurking in the darkness? The ruined halls of the monastery had been abandoned for decades, yet he could not shake the feeling that he was not alone.

He took another step forward, his boots crunching against the shattered stone. The glow of his blade had dimmed, yet an eerie sensation remained, as though the weapon itself was aware of the danger surrounding them. He sheathed it carefully and moved toward the monastery's main gate, its wooden beams half-rotted and splintered.

Just as he reached for the handle, a rustling sound echoed from beyond the threshold.

Jin halted.

The sound was too deliberate, too measured to be the idle shifting of the wind. He slid into the shadows, his breath steady as his senses sharpened. Footsteps approached—light, cautious, but unmistakably human. Three distinct presences.

From his vantage point, he caught glimpses of them. Figures wrapped in dark cloaks, moving with the practiced silence of trained warriors. Their robes bore no insignia, but their presence here was no coincidence.

A soft voice, barely above a whisper, spoke among them. "We're too late. The blade has been taken."

Jin's grip on his sheath tightened.

"The seal is broken," another voice muttered. "If the rumors are true, then the one who wields it…"

A pause. Then the first voice, sharper this time. "Search the ruins. We cannot let him leave this place alive."

Jin's pulse remained steady, though his mind raced. These were no ordinary bandits. They had come for the weapon, expecting to find it untouched. That meant they were either remnants of those who had sealed it away or those who sought its power for themselves.

Either way, they would not leave without bloodshed.

He waited as the figures split apart, each moving into different sections of the ruins. Their search would not last long—sooner or later, they would find him. His path lay forward, through the gate they had entered. But to escape undetected would be impossible.

Jin moved swiftly, his steps precise, hugging the crumbling walls as he circled behind one of the cloaked figures. The man was scanning the ground for footprints, unaware of the danger mere inches away.

Without hesitation, Jin struck.

His hand shot forward, gripping the man's mouth before he could cry out. In a swift motion, he twisted his wrist, cutting off his breath, then dragged him into the shadows. The body slumped soundlessly, unconscious rather than dead. There was no need to spill blood—yet.

The remaining two figures would notice their missing comrade soon. He had to move.

Slipping through the ruined archway, Jin emerged into the open night. The sky stretched vast above him, the moon casting a pale glow across the broken stone path leading down the mountain. He took one step forward—

—and stopped as steel flashed before him.

A figure blocked his path, blade drawn, stance poised for combat. Unlike the others, this one did not wear a hood. Their face, illuminated by the moonlight, was young—perhaps only a few years older than Jin. A woman with sharp, calculating eyes and a stance that spoke of years of discipline.

"You're not from the Order," she said, voice calm but firm. "Who are you?"

Jin met her gaze but did not answer. The air between them grew thick with tension.

She adjusted her grip on the sword. "You took the blade, didn't you?"

Still, Jin remained silent.

Her eyes flickered toward the monastery behind him, then back to his hand, where the hilt of the ancient weapon rested just beneath his cloak. "If you know what's good for you, you'll surrender it now."

Jin tilted his head slightly. "And if I refuse?"

The woman exhaled, almost as if she had expected his answer. "Then I'll have no choice but to take it."

Without another word, she moved.

Her sword lashed out in a fluid arc, precise and swift. Jin barely had time to react, shifting to the side as the blade sliced through the air where he had stood a moment before. His hand went to his own weapon, drawing it in a smooth motion, the sound of steel ringing in the night.

Their blades met, a sharp clang echoing through the ruins.

The force behind her strike was formidable, but Jin held firm. She moved like a seasoned warrior, every attack measured, every step calculated. He parried, twisting his body to deflect her next strike before countering with one of his own.

She dodged, her speed matching his own. "You fight well for someone without a name," she noted, eyes narrowing. "But skill alone won't save you."

Jin did not answer. Words would not win this fight.

She struck again, pressing forward with renewed vigor. Jin countered, their movements a dance of steel and shadow beneath the moonlit sky. For a moment, they seemed evenly matched—until Jin saw an opening.

He shifted his weight, stepping inside her guard. Before she could react, he spun his blade, knocking hers aside. In the same motion, he flicked his wrist, bringing his weapon to her throat.

Silence.

The woman froze, her breath steady despite the blade resting against her skin. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face—frustration, perhaps, but also intrigue.

Jin met her gaze. "I do not wish to kill you."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, to his surprise, she smiled.

"Good," she murmured. "Then perhaps you'll listen to reason."

Jin hesitated, sensing something shift in the air. This was not the reaction of a defeated opponent. Before he could question it, a sharp whistle pierced the night.

A signal.

From the ruins behind them, the remaining cloaked figure emerged, his sword already drawn. More figures appeared in the distance, their torches bobbing like fireflies against the darkness. Reinforcements.

The woman took a step back, lowering her blade. "You should run."

Jin frowned. "And if I don't?"

Her smile widened slightly. "Then you'll die here."

The torches drew closer, the sound of boots echoing against stone. The weight of the stolen blade grew heavier in his grasp. There was no time left to hesitate.

Jin turned, disappearing into the night.

But even as he fled, he could still hear the woman's voice, carrying through the wind.

"We'll meet again, Pale Reaper."