Chapter 58: Striking Resemblance
The next day arrived slowly, dragging light into the cracks of the curtains like an uninvited guest. The room smelled faintly of blood and ash. Alex sat in silence, leaning against the cold wall of the storage room, still beside Shadow’s lifeless body. His shirt had dried stiff with blood. Sleep had come in fleeting waves—haunted ones. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Shadow’s final expression, that twisted mixture of defiance and fear as the dagger pierced his chest.
He stood now, stiff and quiet, peeling himself from the wall like a man breaking free of something invisible.
Outside the room, Ace and Zia were already awake. The living room was dimly lit, Ace munching absently on some dry cereal while Zia scrolled through a tablet, her gaze flicking up every now and then as if expecting an explosion at any moment.
When Alex stepped out, they both paused.
"Morning, Cap," Ace said, though his voice lacked its usual cheer. His eyes drifted again toward the hallway where the corpse lay.
"You’re going to see them today, aren’t you?" Zia asked without looking up.
Alex nodded once, heading toward the bathroom.
He cleaned himself up in silence. Water ran red in the sink for a long time before turning clear. The wound at his side had already healed. He tucked the golden dagger into its sheath, and changed into darker clothes.
The kind that didn’t draw attention.
At exactly ten, he walked out the door. The city was already alive—cars rushing, people moving, vendors shouting—but it all felt distant, like background noise in a dream he hadn’t agreed to enter.
He took the train.
The ride was long. He sat in the corner seat, arms folded, head leaning back as stations blurred past the window. A kid pointed at him once, whispering something to their mother. She looked, saw the dead stare in his eyes, and pulled the child closer without a word.
Alex’s stop came near the city’s edge—a forgotten district full of buildings that leaned too far and alleys that whispered rumors. He stepped off the train and walked the last few blocks.
The headquarters wasn’t a tower or fortress like stories often told. It was quiet. Hidden in plain sight.
An abandoned parking garage.
The moment Alex stepped inside, two armed men appeared from the shadows and scanned him. One of them pressed a finger to his ear and nodded.
"He’s here already."
The steel door at the far end buzzed open. Alex stepped through.
He descended three levels underground, past flickering lights and walls that seemed too clean for a place this empty. At the final floor, another door opened, this time revealing a wide, white room with no windows. A long metal table sat in the center. Seated at the far end, back straight and suit perfect, was a man with silver hair and a sharp face.
The Chief.
Alex stepped forward, every footfall echoing in the quiet chamber. The door shut behind him.
"You came," the Chief said, without looking up.
"I said I would."
The Chief’s pen paused over a stack of papers. "Where is Shadow’s body?"
"Gone."
"You were told to bring him alive, isn’t it?"
"He died. I made sure to kill him. But I wasn’t going to drag a burnt pile of ash into your clean little room."
Silence fell.
The Chief looked up. His eyes were pale and tired, like a man who hadn’t slept in years but still remembered how.
"Do you know what you’ve done?"
"I completed the mission," Alex said. "He’s dead."
"You killed a valuable source of information. Shadow was connected to a growing underground movement. You should’ve interrogated him. We needed names, places, networks."
"I wasn’t in the mood for conversation," Alex muttered.
The Chief leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "You’ve grown cold."
"I’ve always been like this. You just never noticed."
A muscle twitched in the Chief’s cheek. He stood, walking slowly around the table until he stood across from Alex.
"You act like this was personal."
Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
The Chief’s gaze darkened.
"Do you think we don’t know what you’re doing at night?" he said quietly. "The portals? The monsters? The mercenary kills? We let it happen because you delivered results. But now you’ve stepped out of line."
Alex met his eyes, unblinking. "Then cut me loose."
"No," the Chief said. "Not yet. You’re still useful. But from now on, you’ll be watched."
Alex tilted his head. "You already were."
The Chief didn’t respond. He returned to his chair and sat again, fingers tapping slowly on the desk.
"There’s a girl," he said suddenly. "Silver hair. Bright eyes. Carries a scythe. She worked with Shadow once. Ring any bells?"
Alex’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes.
"She’s been spotted near one of the B-rank gates. Unregistered. Not part of any guild. Find her."
"For what?" Alex asked.
The Chief smiled thinly. "This time... bring her alive."
Alex stared for a moment longer, then turned toward the door.
"Oh, and Necro," the Chief added as he reached the exit.
"What?"
"If you fail again... we won’t be so forgiving."
Alex opened the door without replying.
The hallway swallowed him whole.
Outside, the city looked the same. Noise. Lights. People pretending they mattered.
Alex walked for a long time. No destination. Just the rhythm of his boots on the pavement and the weight of the dagger tucked against his side.
He stopped at an alley and stood there for minutes, staring at nothing. Then, slowly, he raised his hand.
Black mist danced between his fingers.
The same tendrils that had ended Shadow. The same magic that had drained the warmth from his bones.
He clenched his fist, and the mist vanished.
He turned and walked away.
Tonight, the hunt would begin again. But this time, he wasn’t just chasing monsters.
He was chasing his new target.
Alex didn’t return home from there, instead, he wandered the city until the sun dipped low, bleeding orange across the cracked rooftops and flickering street signs. The streets narrowed as he walked deeper into the city’s spine, where people didn’t ask questions, and the shadows felt thicker than they should be.
He ended up at a rundown motel, the kind that charged by the hour and didn’t bother with names. The key he received looked rusted enough to give someone tetanus. He didn’t care. The room had a bed, a working faucet, and a small mirror cracked across the top like a fractured memory.
He dropped his coat on the chair, revealing the old scars crawling over his body like a map of wrong turns. His reflection stared back at him. Tired. Gaunt. Not the face of a seventeen-year-old. Not anymore.
He sat on the bed and reached into his pocket.
It was a photo.
Folded three times. Creased. Still warm from his fingers.
The girl in it smiled without smiling. Silver hair like moonlight. Bright eyes that weren’t really bright—more like sharp, like they saw through masks. She held a scythe, though its edge was blurred.
"Helen," Alex whispered under his breath.
But that wasn’t the name echoing in his head.
It was Lilac.
The room felt smaller suddenly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers digging into his temples.
He remembered it clearly now.
The fight.
Lilac had moved like a dancer, her scythe slicing air like music. She laughed during battle, but it wasn’t joy—it was madness, or maybe sorrow disguised in madness. She’d fought him to the brink before he found an opening. Before his dagger kissed her throat.
And now... now Helen had her face.
Had her weapon.
Had her eyes.
But the Chief had said nothing about resemblance. Only about her connection to Shadow. About her appearing at B-rank gates like a ghost without a guild.
Alex stared at the photo again, heart beating too slowly.
What if it was her?
No. He saw Lilac die.
He had killed her that day.
Didn’t he?
He shoved the photo under the pillow and lay back, eyes open, staring at the water-stained ceiling.
He would go to the gate tonight. Check for signs.
And if Helen was there... he would know.
Even if she wore a new name.
-------
The moon was high when he arrived at the outskirts of the B-rank gate. The portal shimmered quietly behind old warehouses, pulsing with unstable energy. Magic flared every few seconds, drawing patterns in the air like veins of blue lightning.
No authorities. No guild banners. This one was fresh. Untouched.
Perfect bait.
Alex didn’t enter immediately. He waited in the shadows of a crumbling wall, listening to the wind and the world’s heartbeat.
Then he heard it.
A soft crunch of gravel, someone else was here.
He turned around slowly.
A figure stepped into view. She was slim. Cloaked in black. Silver hair visible even under the hood. A scythe in one hand, trailing the ground like it weighed nothing.
She stopped a few feet from the portal, gaze locked on the shimmer.
Alex stepped out of the shadows, slow and deliberate.
She turned her head sharply. Her eyes met his.
And for a second—just one—he forgot how to breathe.
"Lilac?" he asked before he could stop himself.
The girl frowned.
"Who’s that?" she asked with a frown on her face, her voice was calm and detached. "The name’s Helen."
She gripped her scythe tighter.
"And you’re in my way."
