Guess who I am

I settled on a tree nearby, waiting for him to arrive. The ground around me seemed disturbed, as though graves had been recently dug.

Is this where they buried the bodies of those who failed the Awakening?

I looked at my clothes, torn and covered in mud. Ugh, I'm really in a sorry state.

"Who are you?"

I turned toward the voice. I recognized him immediately: one of the six Enforcers under Grégoire's command. A towering man, muscles bulging, threatening to rip through his immaculate white uniform. A massive claymore hung on his back, drawing all attention. His appearance screamed raw strength, but I wasn't foolish enough to underestimate him. Better to test his reactions before drawing conclusions.

"Me," I said, pointing to myself with a smirk. "I'm just a ghost."

He drew his large sword in one fluid motion, pointing it at me with a gaze as hard as steel.

"Reveal your identity, or I'll have to use force to get answers," he declared, his tone menacing.

Well, he's not one to joke around.

"We're in a cemetery, and you're meeting a man dressed in filthy clothes, with an empty grave next to him. Who do you think I am?" I threw out.

He looked at me strangely, frowned, and then shrugged.

"If you insist on telling me nothing..."

He raised his sword in a powerful arc and swung it toward me. A violent wind erupted, tearing everything in its path. But I remained still, my face impassive.

One word was enough:

"Ygro."

A liquid shield formed around me, absorbing the impact of his strike. The dust slowly settled, revealing a devastated landscape. The tree I had been perched on remained intact, but the ground around it had been torn apart by the force of his blow.

"You must not be very intelligent if you can't figure out something as basic as this," I taunted, hoping to rile him up.

He ignored my jabs, instead taking up a more stable combat stance. His eyes locked onto me as he charged forward, his claymore slicing through the air with deadly precision.

Interesting.

"Stereos Sword."

A sword materialized in my hand a fraction of a second before his blade reached me. Our weapons clashed with a deafening metallic crash, sending a shockwave through the ground. The force of the impact forced me back, and I lost my balance, leaping from the tree to land on the ground.

We began a deadly dance, exchanging rapid, precise blows. His attacks were brutal, each one delivered with crushing force. There was no complexity in his technique; his style could be summed up in three words: brutality, simplicity, lethality. I managed to dodge and parry, but the pressure never relented.

After a series of exchanges, we pulled back, catching our breath.

Tsk, this guy… I can't match him in raw strength.

The sword in my hand vanished, replaced by two light, sharp daggers.

Let's try a different style.

I threw one of my daggers at him, aiming for his chest. He deflected it with a swift motion of his sword, but before he could react, I dispersed it into smoke. Seizing the confusion, I propelled myself toward him, using the ground as leverage to gain speed. My second dagger aimed for his right shoulder, but he sidestepped, his sword sweeping through the air to create a gust of wind that knocked me back violently.

I was thrown ten meters away, crashing hard into the ground. Before I could recover, he was already upon me, his claymore raised for a fatal blow.

Shit.

I turned my second dagger into mist.

"Nephele Burst."

The explosion of smoke and force barely countered his strike, forcing him back a few steps. But I knew I didn't have much time. He quickly regained his position, ready to strike again.

"What if I gave you the answer to the riddle?" I said, feigning panic to buy time.

He didn't fall for the bait.

"Die in silence," he replied calmly, his blade poised to take my life.

But just before he could complete his strike, a dagger plunged deep into his back and exploded into smoke, making him stagger. He dropped to his knees.

I slowly rose, a sword forming once again in my hand.

"That's my line," I said with a smile.