Chapter 86: The masked Summoner

Chapter 86: The masked Summoner Kairos had moved out of the first-year dormitory and decided to visit the marketplace, hoping to get some food using the allowance Titanfang had given them. The marketplace buzzed with life—merchants shouting over one another, the scent of grilled meat drifting through the air, and the ambient chatter of students and townsfolk blending into a chaotic harmony. Kairos navigated through the crowd, eventually settling on some snacks for himself. They weren’t anything essential, just casual bites he could enjoy later. After gathering a modest number of goods, he tucked them into a small paper bag and began his journey back to his room. As he walked through the bustling street, his mind wandered. Perhaps he could visit Melvin—maybe train a little, get more familiar with the gauntlets he had received and test out his newly learned Feral Arts. The idea was tempting. But then again, it wasn’t the weekend, and Melvin might not be around. Worse still, ever since Kairos had obtained his core weapons, it no longer felt like he was welcome there. The once-cozy familiarity had turned to cold distance. For now, the forest would be his only choice for training—less refined than Melvin’s high-end drones, but quieter, raw, and just as effective. [Ding!] [Mythic Summon Lust has been sensed.] Kairos’s thoughts came to a sudden halt. The glowing blue notification hovered briefly in front of his vision before vanishing. His body tensed, but he kept walking—head now alert and eyes scanning his surroundings. The marketplace hadn’t changed; no outbursts, no chaos, no sign of a summoned creature. Yet Kairos knew better than to brush off a warning from the system. It only gave him information that directly concerned him—so this was either a warning... or a threat. [Master! Bloodlust! Grrr!] the voice of the Shadow Wolf growled from deep within him, its sudden agitation confirming Kairos’s suspicions. Something was definitely wrong. "Can you lead me there?" he asked under his breath, keeping calm despite the spike of unease rising in his chest. The Shadow Wolf growled again, this time indicating a direction. Kairos adjusted his footing, quickening his pace just slightly—not enough to draw attention, but fast enough to get moving. He noticed the sun beginning to set, its light washing the skies in a melancholy orange. Nightfall was approaching, and with it, an eerie feeling gnawed at his gut. As he followed the path laid out by his inner beast, the noise around him began to fade. The crowd thinned, the laughter and chatter replaced by distant echoes and the soft shuffle of his own steps. Soon, he found himself standing within a narrow alleyway—desolate, cold, and utterly lifeless. A place perfect for something illegal... or something worse. "Is that you—Kairos?" The voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head toward a smaller connecting alley and saw a figure stumbling toward him. A female figure, limping weakly as if her body was moments away from collapsing. She was slow—unusually slow. Her steps were disjointed, like she had run a marathon on broken legs. Her hair was matted with blood, and her entire form was drenched in it. Kairos’s heart sank. ’What’s going on?’ he asked himself, still frozen in place. As she got closer, recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning. Mirel Caen. She was barely standing, her face pale and full of horror. Panic gripped Kairos. He dashed forward to catch her—but then his gaze caught something far more dangerous. A figure emerged behind her. A man, tall and composed, walked with deliberate steps. He wore a dark shinigami mask, the short blade in his hand gleaming ominously under the fading light. His entire outfit was black—suit, gloves, and shoes that echoed menacingly with every step. [Master be careful... Something is off. The smell is all messed up,] Shadow Wolf warned again, this time more urgently. Kairos gritted his teeth. Despite his own heightened senses, he couldn’t feel what the wolf sensed. Born with an ability and earning it through evolution were two different things entirely. "Who the hell are you?" Kairos asked, steel laced in his voice as he prepared to summon his shadow. This man didn’t look like someone to take lightly. He wasn’t just a random attacker—he was deliberate. Focused. A grown adult, likely leagues above him in experience and power. And he was right. Without warning, the man vanished. The next moment, a thunderous fist collided with Kairos’s face, staggering him backward. ’What was that?!’ Kairos reeled but regained his footing. He glared ahead—and saw the masked man standing calmly, as if he’d never moved. It couldn’t have been speed. It felt like teleportation. ’No... It’s a trick, like the Abyssal-ranked beasts,’ Kairos deduced. ’If he really wanted her dead, Mirel would be dead already.’ He narrowed his gaze, preparing himself. Another blow came. This time, Kairos’s integration activated—instincts sharpened, and he barely dodged. He jerked his head to the side but still caught the edge of the punch, another sharp sting exploding across his cheek. But this time, Kairos grabbed the man’s wrist mid-swing. "Now, I have you. You don’t hit like a brute. You’re either a medical or a weakling," Kairos muttered with a dark grin, drawing his arm back and slamming a punch into the man’s face. The strike landed hard. A loud thud echoed through the alley as the masked figure crashed to the ground. But the man simply stood up again—unfazed—and brushed himself off with mock politeness. "Why not use your shadow?" the man asked. "You’re waiting to see my ability first. Clever boy... but I’m just a humble scientist. She volunteered to be my subject. What’s so wrong with that?" Kairos’s heart froze. "You’re not human... are you?" "No matter," he added coldly, then dissolved into shadow and reappeared behind the man, striking fast. The blow landed. But the figure vanished again—just like before. ’What the hell is this?!’ Kairos’s mind raced. He spun, looking around frantically. He was being tested. Evaluated. "You play the same game I do, Kairos Veyl... but you’re on the wrong pitch." Kairos’s eyes shot upward. There, atop a building, the masked man sat casually, staring down at him through the slits of his mask. "If we fought now, you would lose," he said simply. "Your strategies won’t work on me, no matter how clever. But there’s no need for me to continue. I’ve gotten what I came for—from her... and from you." With a mock wave and a muffled chuckle, the man vanished—fading like mist into the night. Kairos remained silent, his fists clenched. That wasn’t a battle he could win. Not yet. The enemy held cards he didn’t even recognize. And the worst part? He had left them alive. Not out of mercy—but because he had gotten everything he needed. Kairos turned sharply. Mirel had collapsed long ago. He ran over, kneeling beside her broken form. Her body was cold, her breathing shallow. Then he saw it. The cuts. The burns. Her nails torn and skin flayed in places no battle would target. This wasn’t just a fight. It was torture. Whoever that man was... he had tortured her for information. And from the way he had left, he had certainly gotten what he wanted.