Shadow Menace: I Live Among Mortals, I Kill Among Gods

"Every step forward carves my name deeper into the bones of this world. And today… I step on holy ground." — Kaito

The mountain path stank of ash and magic.

We stood at the edge of the final stretch—a jagged cliff of desecrated stone overlooking Vermund's Castle. The Obsidian Crown, they called it. A towering fortress wrapped in screaming shadows, its surface alive with cursed inscriptions and twitching black vines.

Its gates pulsed like a heart trying not to die.

Around us, steam hissed from cracks in the earth. The remains of the Wall of Flesh—what was once a thousand fused celestial corpses—boiled in their own decay. The silence here wasn't peaceful.

It was daring us to move.

Behind me, the team was silent.

Eve stood to my left, her arms crossed, eyeing the tower.

"To think we made it this far," she muttered.

"We're not in yet," I replied.

I took one step forward. My boots crunched bones left behind by the last fool who tried to breach the gate.

So this is where they want us to fall.

A hiss. A groan. A sound like the world being torn open.

And then… the gates moved.

Two slabs of obsidian shifted with agonizing weight, revealing a narrow pathway lined with statues—no, not statues. Soldiers, frozen mid-prayer. Eyes gouged. Tongues nailed to their palms.

And at the center, pouring from the courtyard beyond—

Came them.

They didn't roar.

They didn't shout.

The Knights of Disobedience marched in silence, armor chiseled from voidglass, weapons inscribed with traitor sigils. Alongside them floated sorcerers in tattered priest robes, eyes glowing from beneath bandaged faces.

Their magic danced like fire stitched with scripture.

Eve readied her blade.

The others followed suit.

And I?

I smiled.

I slid Kagetsura from my back… then stopped.

Not yet.

Instead, I reached behind my waist—drew my twin ethereal swords, the old ones.

Light shimmered off their ghost-steel edges. They weren't forged to cleave mountains.

They were meant to dance.

"CHARGE!" Eve's voice thundered behind me.

We surged forward.

The Knights came like a wave of moving statues—no gaps, no fear, only calculated death.

Here we go again…

I blink-stepped left, dodging a cursed javelin. My swords sliced outward—clean cuts, faster than thought. One knight's legs separated from his body before he realized. Another tried to grab me—

—I twisted mid-air, drove a sword into his collarbone, and flung him into a group of sorcerers behind.

Their magic flared—

I vanished in light.

Reappeared between them and cut through the frontlines in a bladed spiral.

Their blood hissed on impact, evaporated by my aura.

I don't enjoy this. Not really.

But when I fight like this—quick, clean, efficient—I feel something again.

Control? Purpose? Maybe. Or maybe it's just the silence that fills my head between every kill.

But I know one thing—if I stop, I die. And if I die, she falls too.

I caught Eve out of the corner of my eye—charging at a knight twice her size. The guy looked like a walking cathedral of pain: silver faceplate, jagged shield, sword like a guillotine.

He didn't even flinch.

Eve struck first—fast, calculated. Sparks flew as her blade met his shield. The clang echoed like thunder on stone.

"Say something, damn you!" she barked.

The knight just deflected her strike and drove his shield into her gut. She stumbled back, caught herself, and dashed again.

I could see it in her movements—this wasn't just a fight. It was personal.

"You don't get to stay silent when you've killed as many as you have!" she snarled, her sword blazing with divine fire.

Finally, he spoke.

"They volunteered."

Three words. Chilled like ice-water.

Eve's aura flared. "They were children!"

He met her head-on, their blades shrieking against each other.

I blinked past a few enemies to give her cover, but she raised a hand.

"I got this."

Of course she did.

She ducked low, slashed his calf. He retaliated with a wide swing. She caught it, twisted her body mid-air, and slammed her blade into his pauldron.

No blood. Just vapor.

"Not human," she muttered.

"Better," he replied.

A spell circle surged beside me.

One sorcerer launched a torrent of violet flame shaped like writhing arms. I blocked with a crossed guard, spun, and stabbed through his chest before the spell even finished.

Another blinked behind me—sigil-brand raised to curse me.

I ducked, kicked his legs, and drove my blade into his ribs while he gasped.

I've stopped looking at them as people.

That's the part that scares me the most.

They're just… obstacles now.

Obstacles between me and Lysaria's tomorrow.

Kiro collapsed just behind me—barely older than twenty, with burns down his face and most of his body missing below the waist. My boots skidded to a halt.

I dropped beside him.

His fingers weakly curled around my ankle.

"Cap'n…" he croaked. "Did I… stall 'em?"

I grabbed his hand. It was ice cold already.

"Yeah," I said. "You bought us ten more feet. That's ten we didn't have."

He coughed—blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Still smiling.

"I didn't… run this time…"

"You didn't flinch either."

His eyes were dimming, but his lips twitched.

"Tell my sister… I wore the ring."

My throat tightened.

"She'll know."

He exhaled. His hand loosened.

Then he was gone.

I stood slowly. My hands clenched tight. Couldn't look back.

I walked toward the next kill like nothing had happened.

They always think I'm going to strike from the front.

Idiots.

I blinked.

The world shattered into streaks of white.

I appeared behind a knight—sliced through his back before he even reacted.

One down.

A sorcerer flared his runes. I blinked sideways, drove my left sword through his gut, spun, and cleaved another knight behind him across the ribs.

Don't stop moving. Blink, slice, blink again. Stay fluid.

Another knight charged—javelin raised. I bent backward as it skimmed my face, grabbed it from mid-air, and hurled it into a sorcerer's jaw.

Blood sprayed like mist in sunlight.

I blinked high—onto a crumbling pillar.

From here, the chaos looked like a divine hell.

I leapt down, blades out, slamming into a cluster of them with a spiraling slash.

Three fell instantly.

I don't even feel it anymore. My body reacts. My mind's just… watching. Like a passenger.

More came.

I smiled.

Good.

The noise around me dimmed.

It was like the air itself backed off.

Then I saw him.

He walked out from the castle shadows like some grim specter. His armor gleamed white, smooth and seamless, and his mask—long-beaked, almost avian—reflected the flames around us without letting me see his eyes.

He stopped a few paces away. Just… stood there.

"You're the mortal," he said. "The one who made the heavens tremble."

I twirled one sword, resting the other behind my back. "And you're the clown who thinks dressing like a corpse bird is intimidating."

He didn't flinch. Didn't laugh.

"I'm Veyron. Knight-Lieutenant of the Twilight Order. Slayer of Eight Cherubim."

"Wow," I said, tilting my head. "Do they give you a sticker for each one, or do you collect ears?"

"I expected more decorum from someone with your kill count."

I smiled thinly. "You can expect a lot of things. Doesn't mean you get them."

The silence between us hung heavy. Like something poisonous, waiting to be inhaled.

"You move like desperation," he finally said. "Beautiful. But flawed. Fast blades make shallow wounds."

"And slow knights die standing."

He stepped forward once.

Then stopped.

"I'll leave the next few corpses to you. Just don't waste too much time."

He turned.

"Come find me… when your hands shake from killing too much."

I didn't reply. Not with words.

My aura flared, casting crimson shadows across the stones. I wanted him to feel it.

He didn't look back.