The Specter

The city whispered with unseen threats, the neon glow casting long, distorted shadows over the rain-slick streets. Kain Drayce walked among them, silent, methodical—his pulse steady, his rage unwavering.

He had a name.

Vance Rho.

One of the assassins who took the contract on Elyse. One of the first to die.

The hunt had begun.

Kain moved like a phantom, slipping through backstreets and alleyways, tracing whispers of the underground. Vance Rho wasn't just another assassin—he was a ghost in human skin, a man who never left a trail.

But Kain wasn't just hunting anymore. He was something else now.

His shadow rippled unnaturally as he walked. The air around him felt heavier. Darker.

The city itself seemed to fear him.

Then—movement.

A flicker in the periphery. A distortion in the alley ahead.

He's here.

Kain slowed, adjusting his grip on The Black Maw. The katana seemed to hum in response, as if hungry.

A voice broke the silence.

"You shouldn't have come looking for me, Drayce."

The words came from nowhere and everywhere at once. The sound was unnatural—warped, suffocated.

Silence of the Grave.

Kain didn't respond. He closed his eyes. Listened. Not with his ears—with something deeper.

And then—there.

A distortion in the shadows, just barely perceptible. The unnatural ripple of something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Wraith Step.

Specter lunged from the darkness, daggers flashing.

Kain twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike. He retaliated instantly, his katana carving through the air—

—only to meet nothing.

Vance phased through the blade like smoke, vanishing through a rusted dumpster and appearing behind Kain in the same breath.

The dagger plunged toward his spine.

Kain moved faster.

His shadow stretched unnaturally, intercepting the attack for a fraction of a second—just long enough for him to pivot, slamming the hilt of his katana into Vance's ribs.

A grunt. A stagger. Blood.

So he could be hurt.

Vance's mask twisted into something resembling amusement. "You're faster than before."

Kain said nothing.

Vance exhaled, then disappeared into the walls.

Kain stood motionless, scanning the void-like silence around him.

A normal assassin would be dead already. Vance was an artist in the art of killing. The kind that struck from nowhere, left no evidence, and faded before anyone realized they were bleeding out.

But Kain was no longer normal.

His fingers tightened around The Black Maw.

A ripple. A breath. A heartbeat out of place.

Kain moved before the attack even came.

Steel clashed against steel, sparks showering the alley in fleeting light.

Vance attacked relentlessly, phasing in and out of sight, striking from impossible angles. His daggers were like whispers of death—silent, precise, lethal.

But something was wrong.

His strikes weren't landing.

Every time he moved, Kain was already there. Already reacting. Already cutting him off.

Vance phased through a wall—only to be met with a blade waiting for him on the other side.

Steel bit into his shoulder. He staggered, hissing. "What the hell—"

Kain's voice was cold. "You're predictable."

Vance's eyes widened. He had spent years perfecting his techniques, becoming an untouchable wraith.

And yet, Kain Drayce could see him. Anticipate him. Trap him.

Vance went for one last desperate move—phasing through the ground itself, aiming to escape through the sewers below.

Kain let him.

For a moment.

Then—his shadow stretched downward, consuming the space below him like a living abyss.

Vance's body froze mid-phase, half-emerged from the ground.

A pulse of darkness ripped him from the void and back into reality.

His body convulsed. His throat clenched in horror. "What—what is this—"

Kain didn't answer. He raised his katana.

The blade sang.

One clean cut.

Vance Rho, the untouchable ghost, collapsed. His body twitched, struggling to phase—only to find that Kain's darkness had already taken hold.

The Black Maw didn't just cut flesh. It devoured.

Vance gasped, watching his own limbs begin to dissolve, consumed by the abyss.

His final words were a whisper.

"Heh… so this… is the monster they feared…"

Then, he was gone.

Erased.

Kain stood over the nothingness that remained, breathing steadily. The rage didn't fade. The hunger didn't fade.

His phone buzzed.

A new message.

Next target located.

Kain's grip tightened. His hunt was far from over.

He turned, stepping into the night, leaving nothing behind but silence.