Chapter 120: Sudden Fight and Some Pondering

Chapter 120: Sudden Fight and Some PonderingThe city of Elandra held its breath. Just before dawn, with the streets still cloaked in fog and lamplight, Inigo stood alone on the rooftop above the inn, his M4 Carbine slung tight against his chest. He had felt it the moment he stirred—no, even before that. Something primal, coiling in his gut. A wrongness in the air. Like static before a storm. His finger rested against the trigger guard, tense. The street below was too quiet. No footsteps. No carts. Even the usual echo of stray cats or drunken wanderers was absent. A silence not born of peace—but of expectation. Then it came. A ripple through the fog. A presence that didn’t belong. Inigo pivoted sharply. Across the narrow rooftop gaps, perched atop a stone chimney, was a figure cloaked in gray-black threads that clung to it like smoke. It didn’t move like a man. Too fluid. Too perfect. Its hood fluttered slightly in the breeze, revealing a pale, mask-like face with faintly glowing orange eyes. Inigo’s breath froze in his throat. Then—action. He raised his M4 and fired a controlled burst. The rounds cracked like thunder, shattering roof tiles and hammering the space where the figure stood—but it wasn’t there. The Shade twisted impossibly midair and dropped silently onto the cobblestone street below. Inigo cursed and scrambled after it, vaulting across ledges and down an awning. He landed in a crouch, rifle raised. But the Shade or the demon being was already gone. He crept forward. Fog curled around his legs. Heart pounding, Inigo flicked the rifle to semi-auto and scanned the alleys. No sound. No movement. Then something shifted behind him. He spun— Too late. The Shade surged from the mist, slashing with twin blades. Inigo ducked instinctively, the edge grazing his shoulder plate. He dropped to one knee and fired. The first shot missed. The second punched through the thing’s side. It flinched but didn’t fall. Instead, it rushed him again, blades spinning. Inigo let go of the M4, letting it drop on its sling, and reached to his side. He drew his Glock 19, sidestepped, and fired three rapid shots center mass. The Shade jerked, stumbled, but didn’t die. "What the hell are you?" Inigo hissed, backing away. It lunged again, and this time he ducked low, rolled behind a broken cart, and reached into his bag. His fingers found the RPG-7’s short tube. He pulled it out, slammed in a HEAT round, and spun. The Shade was airborne—leaping at him. Inigo raised the launcher and fired. BOOM! The explosion rocked the narrow street. Heat, dust, and stone erupted outward. The concussive blast threw Inigo against a wall. He hit the ground, ears ringing. Smoke filled the air. Silence followed. Coughing, Inigo rose to one knee and aimed his sidearm. The blast had torn up the cobblestones and vaporized a fruit stand—but the Shade’s body was nowhere. "Gone?" he muttered. Then the smoke moved. It wasn’t just dispersing—it was reforming. The Shade reappeared from the black ash, cloak re-knitting itself like silk pulled through fire. Wounded, but not dead. "Persistent bastard," Inigo growled, discarding the empty launcher. He picked up his rifle again, flipped on the underbarrel flashlight, and charged. The two collided in the center of the smoke. Gunfire cracked. Blades flashed. Inigo ducked low, swung the buttstock into the Shade’s face, and slammed it against a wall. He jammed the rifle forward, barrel-first into its chest, and fired. Bloodless holes tore through the cloak. The Shade hissed and lashed out. A blade slashed across Inigo’s arm. Pain flared. He gritted his teeth and slammed the Shade to the ground. "I’ve fought worse things in the Rift!" he shouted, punching it square in the mask. Cracks formed. The creature screeched in a voice like metal on glass. With a final effort, Inigo grabbed his last flashbang and jammed it into the Shade’s chest cavity. He rolled backward as it detonated. Light and heat burst outward in a blinding pulse. This time, the creature didn’t reform. It writhed, limbs spasming, and then disintegrated fully into ash. No mist. No retreat. Gone. Inigo stood there, panting, clothes torn, shoulder bleeding. He looked at the spot where it vanished—then at the faint shimmer of runes still hanging in the air. Only then did he realize his arm burned. He pulled back his torn sleeve. Etched across his skin was a glowing sigil—dark red, edged in black. A brand. Not just a marker. A curse. It pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own. He spat on the ground. "Dammit." Behind him, the street slowly began to wake. A door creaked open. Someone shouted about the explosion. He couldn’t stay here. He limped back to the inn. Lyra met him at the door, her eyes scanning him in horror. "You’re hurt—what happened?!" "One of them came for me," he said, stumbling to a chair. "A demon being. Fast. Smart. Wouldn’t die." Her hands hovered over his wound. "Did it mark you?" He nodded and showed her the sigil. She recoiled slightly. "That’s a blood-rite seal. Ancient. Rare. They can trace you now. They’ve chosen you." "They already did when I left the Rift alive," Inigo muttered. "Guess now they’re making it official." He winced as she cleaned the wound and bandaged the burn. "We need to inform the guild." "I’ll tell Guildmaster Thorne," Lyra said. "You do that." Far above the city, Destruction stood atop a cathedral’s steeple. His cloak writhed like liquid night, his molten eyes fixed on the horizon. He felt the mark fail. He felt the Shade die. He did not frown. Instead, he smiled. "So... you killed it," he said quietly. "Good." His hand rose, and a constellation of burning marks lit up across the sky—targets. Orders. Dozens of Shades scattered in the dark answered the call. "We’ll see how long you can run, little hunter. I will personally send you to your death once I’m done entertaining with you." *** Meanwhile, back in the city, at adventurer’s guild, private room. Inigo’s Freedom Shop, for the first time, chimed with notification. It popped and a user-interface appeared. [Over the course of your battle with the demons inside the rift and killing the shade, you have received 1,500,000 tokens!] Inigo repeated the number with his mouth. "One million and five hundred thousand tokens?" Well, he must admit, the tokens coming into his account was a bit late if he must say, but better late than never. He thought at first that the Freedom Shop was broken or had a bug or something but his concern quickly went away after that notification. With that number of tokens, he could definitely buy more military hardware to take on another being comparable to the Lady of Illusion. As he was cooping himself up in the room, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Inigo called and then the person who knocked entered. It was Guildmaster Thorne. "The demons must have been pissed after you killed the Lady of Illusion. I think they are on a path of revenge." "I think so too," Inigo replied calmly. "I did expect that they’d make their move sooner or later, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. I’m sorry but I think I may have sped up the war between humans and the demons." "That was our fate to begin with, there’s no need to apologize for it," Thorne said, chuckling. He continued. "Anyways, the Kingdom is in lockdown, and every knight, magicians, adventurers working in the city are on high alert in case another incursion were to happen again, which we are sure it will." "Don’t worry, I’ll be there when an emergency popped up," Inigo replied and then pondered for a moment. His Freedom Shop System may have given him the tools he needed to defeat demon beings. Though it has a strong conventional power, there are beings that are resistant to natural forces. Well, he has magic enchantment but it felt to him that his power is not being utilized properly. Seeing that there are helicopters, tanks, and even IFV’s in his Freedom Shop meant that he was supposed to train some of the denizens here to operate the hardware. After all, he can’t just rely on himself. If he wanted maximum firepower, he would get it by training someone. Though, he remembered an encounter with the monster inside the rift where he summoned the Abrams and was retrofitted or refurbished to accommodate only one person. It might work with other military hardware. But, he believed that having more abrams tanks or apache helicopters against the demon race is the good plan. He looked at Thorne with a serious look. "Guildmaster, I have a favor to ask." "Anything for you, Inigo. You have been our best bet ever since you killed the Lady of Illusion. Whatever you need, the Kingdom will be obliged to give it to you." "Great, my favor is simple, I need men."