Chapter 59: Crimson Dust
He didn’t speak, and neither did she. There was no need for words between enemies.
As soon as he stepped closer, she rushed forward, swinging the scythe in a wide arc. He sidestepped, barely avoiding the blade as it sliced through the air. Without missing a beat, she shifted her stance and aimed another strike toward his legs, but he jumped back, creating space between them. His golden dagger slid into his hand as he steadied his breathing, eyes locked on her movements.
They exchanged blows in rapid succession. Her attacks were fluid, sweeping, designed to keep him at bay, while his counters were fast and precise, looking for any opening. The clash of their weapons echoed through the rooftop, metal sparking as dagger met scythe again and again. Her strikes forced him to keep moving, but he could tell she was using more energy than she wanted to.
He moved in, feinting to the left before slashing across her side. She managed to block, though the force pushed her back a step. Her expression remained calm, but her grip on the scythe tightened. She lunged at him again, spinning the scythe low toward his legs. This time it connected, cutting into his thigh. He hissed as pain flared up his leg, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving.
Blood ran down his leg, warm and sticky, but he didn’t let it slow him down. He pushed forward, his dagger flashing as he struck her arm. She let out a small grunt and swung the back end of her scythe at his head, which he ducked just in time. They were both breathing heavily now, their clothes stained with blood and dust. The rooftop was starting to crack beneath them.
As the fight dragged on, he began to see the pattern in her movements. She favored sweeping attacks from the left, always ending her combos the same way. Timing it carefully, he took a step forward during her next strike, letting the scythe graze his shoulder while he drove his dagger into her side. The blade tore through her coat and into skin. She gasped and stumbled back, one hand instinctively covering the wound.
He didn’t give her time to recover. He grabbed her wrist before she could raise the scythe again and slammed his knee into her stomach. She dropped her weapon, falling to her knees. He crouched beside her and punched her across the jaw. Her head snapped to the side, and she collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.
He remained crouched there for a few seconds, catching his breath, his hand still gripping the dagger. Blood dripped from his wounds, but he’d won. He glanced down at her, now motionless, her chest rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths.
Without saying anything, he sheathed his dagger and picked her up. Her body was light in his arms. The fight was over.
He didn’t look at the scythe lying at the edge of the rooftop and just walked away, carrying her down into the shadows of the city.
The rain had started to fall by the time he reached the streets. It wasn’t heavy, just enough to wash away some of the blood. He didn’t bother covering her as he walked through the narrow alleyways, footsteps quiet and steady. People glanced at him from a distance but turned away quickly, pretending they hadn’t seen anything. That was the kind of city they lived in—where no one asked questions when a boy carried a bleeding girl through the night.
She stirred once in his arms but didn’t wake. Her head rested against his shoulder, silver hair clinging to her skin as the rain soaked them both. He tightened his grip slightly and kept moving.
The entrance to the headquarters was the same as before—an old parking garage hidden behind a rusted gate. The guards stepped out from the shadows the moment he appeared. One of them raised a brow when he saw the girl, but Alex didn’t stop walking.
"She’s alive," he muttered, pushing past them.
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual. Her breathing was steady, and her wound had stopped bleeding, at least for now. He didn’t speak. He didn’t look down at her either. He just watched the numbers on the panel tick down.
At the lowest floor, the steel doors opened with a soft chime. The hallway was cold and sterile, lights buzzing faintly overhead. He stepped into the main room, where the Chief already stood waiting behind his desk, arms folded and eyes sharp.
"You brought her," the Chief said, looking at the girl in his arms. "Alive."
Alex didn’t answer. He lowered her carefully onto the metal table at the center of the room. Her scythe had been left behind.
The Chief stepped closer, examining her face with a quiet hum. "She matches the description exactly. Silver hair. Bright eyes." He tilted his head slightly. "How difficult was it?"
Alex looked at him, jaw clenched. "She fights like someone with nothing to lose."
"That kind is dangerous," the Chief replied. "But useful."
Alex turned away, already heading toward the exit. He didn’t care what they planned to do with her. His job was done.
"Wait," the Chief called after him. "You’re hurt."
"I’ve had worse," Alex said without stopping.
The door hissed shut behind him. He didn’t head for the infirmary. He walked past it, past the dorm rooms, back to the small supply room where no one ever came. He sat down in the corner again, pulling the bandage from his thigh. Blood had soaked through his pants, but he didn’t flinch. He grabbed a cloth, wrapped the wound tight, and leaned back against the wall.
His body ached, but the silence was a comfort.
The mission was complete.
But for some reason, his mind kept drifting back to the fight—the way she moved, the way she looked at him before everything went black.
He closed his eyes, just for a moment and listened to the rain tapping gently on the concrete above.
------
Alex walked down the street, tired. The city had quieted down. A few cars passed, and some people stood near a food stall, chatting. He didn’t pay attention to any of them. His coat clung to him from the earlier rain. His steps were slow.
When he reached his apartment building, he looked up. Nothing seemed different at first, but the hallway light on the third floor was off. It had always been on, even when everything else went dark. He didn’t stop walking.
The front door wasn’t locked. That was the first thing he noticed. He entered without effort. The air inside was still. He climbed the stairs.
The third floor was quiet. He reached his door and turned the handle. It wasn’t locked either so he stepped inside.
Everything looked like it did before. The table near the wall, the small couch, the shoes lined up near the door. But something was wrong.
He glanced toward the storage room, the door was slightly open.
He walked over and pushed it fully, the room was empty. The body was gone.
He didn’t say anything. He stood there, looking at the spot where he had left Shadow. There were faint marks on the floor. Someone had moved him. There was no sign of a fight. Nothing broken. No blood.
He turned around and checked the rest of the apartment. Nothing else had been touched. The dagger was still with him. His few belongings were where he left them.
He sat down on the couch and began to think.
Someone had entered and taken the body.
Without noise, not even a trace was left behind.
He stared at the ceiling for a while. He didn’t move again.
Soon after, Ace and Zia returned. Seeing him, they were at first happy but seeing the expression on his face, they glanced at each other before walking up to him.
"Captain, what’s the look on your face?" Zia asked.
"Yeah, did the mission not go well?"
"Everything went well," Alex replied. Though from the way he spoke, they knew that he had succeeded but they could not help but worry, feel bothered about his expression.
Something wasn’t right.
"Don’t the two of you notice something wrong?" He suddenly asked them.
Ace and Zia glanced at each before facing him again.
They wanted to ask him what he meant but were scared to do so.
As heroes that they were, they are expected to be vigilant, always alarmed.
"Where did you two go?" He asked them.
"Uhm, we went to buy foodstuffs," Ace replied.
Alex glanced down at the leather bag they were carrying and then sighed.
Without a word, he turned and returned to his room.
"What could be the problem?" Ace asked Zia but she shrugging her shoulders. She too had no idea. "Well, let’s arrange all these stuffs for now."
Back inside Alex’s room, Alex took off his coat and pulled out a cigarette as usual efore heading to his balcony where he kit the cigarette and began inhaling and exhaling the content.
His mind was far, far away from him.
Who might have come for the body?
What did they want to do with it?
Could it be that they want to revive him or something?
He didn’t know what exactly to think of.
’Damn it’
He cursed inwardly.
If the headquarters find out that the body is still intact and has been stolen, he’ll be punished for sure because he had told them that he had burnt it.
