The laboratory trembled.
Thunder rumbled outside, but the true roar came from beneath the earth.
The door exploded inward. Freezing wind slashed through like a blade, tearing shadows apart.
A man stepped in.
Middle-aged, body scarred by years of survival, vitality intact. Black wavy hair to his shoulders, dark eyes with a mocking glint. Thin scar curved across his right cheek like a carved smile. Dark cape, tight leather. He moved with the lightness of someone who made danger his home.
The necromancer turned instantly.
Hands rose; air burned. Red runes ignited like open wounds in space. A dark energy circle formed under his feet, swallowing candlelight, twisting shadows into hungry spirals.
The man threw a dagger gleaming in candlelight. The necromancer intercepted it with a shadow shield that devoured the metal. But the man was already moving. Another dagger flew from an impossible angle.
A darkness tentacle burst from the necromancer's robe and whipped toward the intruder. The cape tore. Blood flowed.
The man rolled as a black bolt pierced the wall, leaving a smoking hole. He rose with a third dagger between his teeth and leaped.
The necromancer raised both hands.
A wall of dark energy rose, pulsing like a living heart, sucking air. The man pierced it with an unnatural twist. The blade grazed the necromancer's arm, drawing red across pale skin.
The necromancer's gray eyes blazed.
The rune circle expanded, collapsing into a spinning sphere of shadows. Black bolts erupted. One grazed the man's left cheek, opening a burning wound.
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Hot blood.
The man touched his cheek, looked at the blood on his fingers… and smiled wider.
He charged the sphere.
At the last second he threw a curved dagger. It bounced off runes, changed trajectory, forced the necromancer to block.
That was enough.
A knee sank into his stomach.
A fist broke his balance.
And then…
the final dagger.
The blade sank into his heart.
The instant metal pierced flesh, a deep crack shook the laboratory, as if something ancient broke… or sealed. Runes flared violently and went out.
Dark blood poured, thick, impossible.
The necromancer's eyes widened. The white eye glowed with absolute disbelief.
The shadow sphere collapsed into evaporating wisps.
He dropped to his knees.
Then to the floor.
Motionless.
The man stood, breathing hard. The new scar crossed his left cheek, fresh and bleeding: the last memory of the fight.
He looked at the fallen body.
And spoke, voice firm, heavy.
“This was not a victory… it was an execution,” he said. “Because even monsters learn that every reign ends.”
He bowed slightly, mocking respect.
“Rest in the void, Thanatos,” he pronounced clearly. “Lord of the Eternal Night Market.”
Uncomfortable silence settled.
The man frowned, pressing a hand to his chest where the dagger struck.
“Tch…” he whispered. “Something didn’t break.”
The moment passed.
He didn’t investigate.
He didn’t look back.
Then his eyes fell on the cage.
On me.
Eight red eyes watched from the darkness.
He tilted his head. Smiled, without fear.
“Well… you really are something strange,” he murmured. “Relax, little one. I’m not here to kill you.”
He didn’t approach.
He watched like someone evaluating something valuable.
Curiosity in his gaze…
and calculation.
As if measuring how much my existence was worth.
The darkness changed.
No longer the laboratory's.
It was the darkness of someone no longer alone.
But in his smile there was a crack.
A doubt.
As if he still didn’t know whether he had eliminated a tyrant…
or awakened something that should never have been touched.
(End of Chapter 2)
A tyrant has been stabbed.
A cage has been opened.
And something that should never have existed… has just found a witness.
