The Masked Man

The battlefield was chaos incarnate—fire and ruin stretching as far as the eye could see. The Syndicate's forces, though brutal and relentless, were being cut down by the Zodiacs. But the real storm raged at the heart of it all.

Leo's golden flames roared, engulfing the streets as he clashed with the masked warrior. Shockwaves cracked the pavement beneath them with every blow, their battle turning into an inferno of power and will. But despite Leo's sheer fucking intensity, the masked bastard barely flinched—dodging, countering, adapting.

Then—a shadow moved.

A blur. Fast. Precise. Silent.

Scorpio.

His arrival was almost imperceptible, a whisper of death in the raging firestorm. His purple eyes cut through the smoke, locked onto the masked warrior with chilling focus. He had been watching, calculating, waiting.

Now, it was time.

In an instant, he struck.

His wristblade flashed—a single precise movement. It slipped through a gap in the enemy's armor, slicing into the flesh beneath his ribs.

The warrior staggered.

Leo, catching his breath, widened his eyes. "Holy shit…"

Scorpio landed soundlessly, flicking the blood from his blade. "Took you long enough to get serious," he muttered, voice sharp with irritation.

The masked warrior exhaled slowly, touching his wound. He examined the blood on his fingertips. Then, he laughed.

"Interesting." His voice was deep, laced with amusement. "You're not just fire and fury like the others. You're precision."

Scorpio didn't blink. Didn't move. He simply watched. Calculating. Reading every twitch of the bastard's muscles. Every subtle shift in his stance.

Leo smirked, flames still flickering around his fists. "Heh. Should've figured you'd show up the moment shit got real."

Scorpio ignored him. His focus never wavered. "You're strong," he said flatly. "But you're not invincible."

The warrior tilted his head. "A bold claim."

Then—he moved.

His warhammer came down with absurd force, the impact shattering the pavement. Scorpio vanished just before the strike landed, reappearing behind him without a sound.

His dagger shot out again—

But this time, the warrior was ready.

A pulse of dark energy exploded outward, forcing Scorpio to leap back before he could land a second hit. The masked warrior turned fully toward him now, his stance different.

No longer treating this as a casual fight.

"You," he said, pointing his warhammer at Scorpio, "are the real problem."

Scorpio's eyes narrowed. "I'm aware."

The air grew heavy. The fight had changed.

This wasn't just a battle anymore.

This was a test.

Leo stepped beside Scorpio, rolling his shoulders. "Guess we're doing this together, huh?"

Scorpio finally spared him a glance. "Try to keep up."

Leo snorted. "Cocky bastard."

The masked warrior charged.

But this time, Scorpio was faster.

He vanished.

Not literally—he was just moving too fast to be seen. His shadow flickered across the battlefield, weaving through the destruction like a phantom. The warhammer swung—only to hit nothing but air.

Scorpio reappeared behind him, his sword flashing toward the warrior's throat.

CLANG!

The warrior barely managed to block in time, twisting his warhammer defensively. But that was exactly what Scorpio wanted.

A f**king feint.

Leo struck from the front.

BOOM!

A flaming uppercut to the chest, sending the masked warrior skidding backward, the force shaking the battlefield.

Sagittarius, watching from the sidelines, whistled. "Damn. Those two actually make a good team."

Virgo gripped her glaive, nodding. "For once, Leo's energy isn't wasted."

The masked warrior exhaled, his armor glowing red-hot from the damage. His grip on the warhammer tightened.

"Not bad," he admitted.

Then—his visor flickered.

And the air turned deadly.

Scorpio's gaze sharpened. That wasn't normal.

"Leo," he muttered.

"Yeah?"

"We need to end this. Now."

Leo's smirk faded. He saw it too.

The masked warrior was about to stop playing.

Scorpio took a breath.

No more tests. No more observations.

Just the kill.

With a final glance at Leo, he vanished again.

Steel clashed. Flames burned. The battle reached its peak.

Scorpio moved like a shadow, slicing through every defense. Leo struck like a wildfire, overwhelming from every angle. Together, they broke him down.

And then—Scorpio struck the final blow.

The masked warrior stumbled, dropping to one knee. His warhammer hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Blood dripped onto the scorched pavement.

Scorpio, standing over him, flicked his blade clean. His crimson eyes burned with cold fury. "You lost."

The warrior chuckled. Even now-even beaten yet he found amusement in his defeat.

Then, slowly, his hand reached for his mask.

Leo tensed. "Wait"

The mask hit the ground.

Scorpio's expression froze.

The battlefield seemed to go silent.

Because staring up at him—was a face he fucking knew.

A face he shouldn't have been fighting.

A face that belonged to the son of the Monarch of Perol-Maverick Ozen

The royal of their rival continental nation.

The prince of the very empire that had been locked in an constant century war with their homeland.

Scorpio's grip tightened around his dagger. His heart pounded.

"…Son of a bitch."

"What's wrong? Can't end me, Scorpio?"

The prince's voice rang out through the chaos, sharp and taunting, but Scorpio didn't move. His dagger hovered just inches from the bastard's throat. His breathing was steady, but his mind raced.

Killing him would start a war.

A f**king war.

The realization sat heavy in his gut like a lead weight. This wasn't just some Syndicate enforcer or high-ranking warlord—this was a prince. The son of the Monarch of Perol.

The heir to their greatest enemy.

And yet…

They started this.

The Syndicate had attacked first. They'd razed these streets, attacked innocent civilians like it was sport. And now, after all this destruction, after all the blood and fire—Scorpio was just supposed to let this bastard walk?

His grip on his sword tightened. F**k that.

Without hesitation, he struck.

A blur of motion. His dagger shot forward, aimed right for the prince's heart.

But the bastard was fast.

A split-second dodge—just enough to avoid a fatal strike. The prince twisted, the warhammer in his grip swinging up in a brutal arc. Scorpio barely managed to leap back before the weapon crashed into the pavement, sending a shockwave that cracked the street apart.

The Zodiacs reeled from the force of the impact.

Leo steadied himself, flames still burning along his arms. "Okay, what the actual hell is going on?!"

Scorpio didn't answer. He couldn't.

The prince exhaled, stepping back, blood dripping from a fresh cut along his jaw. He lifted his warhammer onto his shoulder, eyes glinting through the smoke. "Next time, Scorpio."

Next time.

Scorpio's expression darkened. He lunged forward again—but the prince was already gone.

Swallowed by the smoke.

Vanished.

Silence.

The battlefield still burned around them. The Syndicate forces had either been wiped out or retreated. But the fight wasn't over. Not really.

Leo turned to Scorpio, his golden flames flickering. "What the hell was that?"

Scorpio didn't answer. His gaze stayed locked on the spot where the prince had disappeared.

Virgo wiped blood from her glaive, her usual calm expression tight with unease. "You hesitated."

Scorpio finally exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" Leo snapped. "You had him, and you—"

Scorpio turned to him, and Leo immediately shut up.

The look in Scorpio's eyes was cold.

Deadly lethal.

"Not a word of this leaves here."

Leo's flames dimmed slightly. "You expect me to just—"

"Yes." Scorpio's voice was sharp as a blade. "We don't talk about this. Ever!!."

Leo clenched his jaw.

Scorpio turned away, slipping his sword back into its sheath. He wasn't sure what was pissing him off more—the fact that he'd hesitated… or the fact that the prince got away.

But this wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.