Darkness had swallowed the city, but the embers of rebellion still smoldered in its veins. The scent of scorched wood and fresh blood lingered, a testament to the massacre that had unfolded at Governor Aldric’s estate. Cedric Alistair stood motionless, his blade stained, his breath heavy. His duel with the masked figure—Lucian—was still vivid in his mind. The precision, the arrogance, the deadly elegance. This was no common criminal. This was a predator playing with his prey.

  And Cedric had barely survived.

  The streets whispered of The Reckoning. Nobles locked their doors, fearing the phantom that had begun his hunt. But Cedric knew this was no mere act of terror—this was a message. Lucian wanted them to fear, to question, to break from within.

  And it was working.

  For days, the city’s underbelly churned with chaos. Lucian’s followers moved like shadows, striking where the kingdom least expected. Royal treasuries were plundered. Convoys set ablaze. Corrupt officials found dead in their chambers, their throats slit and a single black rose left behind as a calling card.

  Cedric hunted relentlessly, following every whisper, every lead. But each time he arrived, Lucian had already vanished, leaving only bloodstains and fear in his wake.

  Then came the letter.

  Delivered by a trembling courier, it was sealed with a dark wax insignia—an intricate serpent coiling around a dagger. Cedric tore it open.

  Knight of the Crown,

  If you truly believe in justice, meet me at the Hollow Chapel. Midnight. Alone.

  Come armed.

  —Phantom

  Cedric read it thrice. A trap? Undoubtedly. But this was his chance to end it. To end him.

  He rode into the night, the weight of his duty pressing against his shoulders.

  The chapel stood in ruin, abandoned for decades, its skeletal remains barely held together by rotting wood and forgotten prayers. Moonlight bathed the decrepit structure in a pale glow, casting long shadows across the stone floor littered with shattered pews and broken glass.

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  Cedric stepped inside, his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. The silence was suffocating.

  Then a whisper.

  “Punctual. I admire that.”

  Lucian’s voice drifted through the darkness, smooth as silk yet sharp as a blade. A flicker of movement. Cedric turned, steel flashing in the dim light.

  Lucian emerged from the shadows, clad in his midnight attire, the infamous mask hiding all but his calculating gaze. He moved with an unnatural grace, as if the darkness itself yielded to him.

  Cedric wasted no time. He lunged.

  Steel met steel, the clash echoing through the ruined chapel. Cedric pressed forward with brutal force, his attacks swift, precise, lethal. But Lucian was faster. He weaved through the strikes, dodging by mere inches, countering with surgical precision.

  Then—pain.

  Cedric staggered back, blood dripping from a shallow cut across his arm. He barely saw the movement, the way Lucian’s blade had danced through his defenses like a phantom’s whisper.

  Lucian tilted his head. “You're skilled. But you fight with restraint. Tell me, Cedric—what do you truly believe in?”

  Cedric ignored the taunt and attacked again. This time, he feigned left before pivoting, his sword slicing towards Lucian’s ribs. A perfect strike—

  But Lucian was already gone.

  Cedric’s eyes widened as a foot slammed into his chest, sending him crashing into the ruined altar. His vision blurred as he struggled to rise. The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill down his spine.

  Lucian loomed over him, pressing his blade against Cedric’s throat. “Killing you now would be easy,” he mused. “But I need you alive.”

  Cedric glared up at him, unyielding. “You’re nothing more than a murderer hiding behind a cause.”

  Lucian knelt slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And you’re a soldier protecting a kingdom that’s already rotting. Tell me, Cedric… when the time comes, will you stand for the throne? Or for the truth?”

  Before Cedric could respond, a deafening explosion tore through the night. The chapel trembled, dust and debris raining from above. Lucian stepped back, his mask tilting towards the source of the chaos.

  Cedric saw his chance.

  With a roar, he surged forward, swinging his blade with all his might. But Lucian moved with inhuman speed, evading at the last moment. “We’ll finish this soon,” he promised before vanishing into the smoke.

  Cedric fell to one knee, breathing heavily as the world burned around him.

  And in the distance, the city screamed.

  By dawn, the royal palace was in uproar. Another attack had struck the heart of the kingdom—this time, the Royal Vault. Gold, weapons, and documents detailing the crown’s deepest secrets were gone.

  King Aldebrand’s fury was boundless. “This phantom dares defy my rule? I want his head on a pike!”

  Cedric, still reeling from his encounter, remained silent. The doubt that had taken root in his mind only grew stronger.

  Then came the final blow.

  A messenger stormed into the throne room, his face pale. “Your Majesty… The people… they’re rioting.”

  Cedric looked to the windows, where smoke coiled into the sky like a serpent’s embrace. The city had erupted. Lucian’s plan had unfolded exactly as intended.

  And Cedric stood on the precipice of a choice that would change the fate of the kingdom.

  To be continued…