Kalyven, Damascar Avenue
The battle on Damascar Avenue continued.
Most of the people who had occupied the street only moments ago had already fled, afraid of being struck by debris caused by the clashes between the soldiers and Byeol's group.
Chaos spread throughout the avenue, marked by impacts, metallic noises, and the heavy scent of destruction.
After eliminating Mikena's dobermann, Byeol immediately ran toward Philip — the hooded soldier sent to capture him, alongside the other two: Hedera and Kreig.
Philip remained motionless.
Watching the battlefield... and every movement Byeol made.
He knew that this would be his direct opponent. And because of that, he had been prepared from the moment they arrived.
In his right hand, he wielded a medium-range sword.
Its shape was anything but conventional.
The blade curved organically, resembling the fang of a serpent. Its tip was extremely thin and elongated, seemingly capable of piercing flesh and bone without resistance.
The metal was dark—almost black—with an uneven finish that absorbed the light around it. Yet subtle cracks ran along the entire length of the blade, releasing an intense violet glow, as if Illuminescence itself pulsed within.
The hilt and guard made the weapon even more disturbing.
A carved serpent wrapped around the entire grip, its winding body serving as the handle. Its head rose at the top, jaws slightly open, revealing sharp fangs and eyes glowing with a deep purple light—as if they were alive... as if they were watching everything around them.
The guard extended outward in aggressive curves, resembling claws or secondary fangs, reinforcing the feeling that this weapon was not merely a weapon.
It was something more.
Almost as if it had a life of its own.
And there was another subtle detail.
A nearly imperceptible liquid dripped along the blade—thick, viscous, corrupted—releasing a metallic, heavy odor that made the surrounding air feel denser... and dangerously toxic.
And it wasn't just the weapon that inspired fear.
The soldier's presence—his aura—was even more unsettling.
There was something about that combination—man and blade—that fit together perfectly, as if they formed a single entity designed for one purpose:
To kill.
As Byeol approached, he slowed down.
Face to face. Eye to eye.
He knew he was standing before a professional.
And at the same time... he knew almost nothing about him.
Stay calm... observe... find a weakness.
Philip's voice broke the silence.
"You have two options. Surrender now and spend a few good years behind bars... or die here. Which do you prefer?"
Byeol looked at him.
Then replied with faint contempt in his voice:
"Before you talk to me... take that bag off your head. I don't talk to shinigami."
A brief silence followed.
"Well..." Philip said almost indifferently. "Looks like you chose the second option."
Byeol tilted his head slightly.
"I think if you'd taken a good look at me... you would've figured that out immediately."
Without another word, the soldier grabbed his hood and pulled it back.
Finally revealing his face.
The face of a man with no time to waste.
Cold. Serious.
But it was his eyes that truly drew attention.
An unstable, intense violet.
Luminous cracks spread across his face, thin and irregular, stretching from his eye to his cheek like living fractures.
They weren't scars.
They were ruptures.
As if compressed Illuminescence was struggling to break free.
With every pulse of light, it felt as though something inside him was trying to escape... as if his body were merely a fragile container for something far more dangerous.
Without warning, Philip moved.
His sword carved rapid arcs through the air, cutting space in multiple directions and signaling the beginning of the fight.
With every swing, droplets of corrupted liquid splashed onto the ground.
Where they landed...
Matter gave way.
The pavement decayed, slowly consumed.
Byeol analyzed the pattern.
Keeping his distance was the obvious choice.
But he didn't have that luxury.
Restricted. Pressured.
He would have to compensate another way.
With surprise.
With creativity.
And with risk.
"Let's see... what you're really capable of," Philip said.
The objective was clear:
End the fight as quickly as possible.
Philip advanced.
His movements were strange—he performed several slashes through the air while approaching, as if building momentum, preparing his body for something greater.
Byeol retreated, staying outside the reach of both the blade and the poison coating it.
I need to study his movements... find an opening.
He observed.
The pattern remains... repetitive. Like a pendulum. Side to side.
An idea appeared.
Got it.
Taking advantage of the continuous motion, Byeol opened a small portal beneath the soldier's left foot.
Philip stumbled.
Instinctively, he threw his hands toward the ground to prevent a complete fall.
Byeol didn't hesitate.
He surged forward immediately, closing the distance with explosive speed.
Even off balance, Philip reacted.
He spun and launched a slash toward Byeol.
Barely.
Byeol dodged at the last second and moved behind him.
He prepared a kick.
But Philip reacted.
Spinning low to the ground with astonishing fluidity, he slipped beneath the attack.
Using the impact against the ground, he rotated again toward Byeol.
In an instant, he transformed from prey into predator.
Now he had the advantage.
Byeol barely had time to adjust.
He intercepted the attack with his leg, knocking Philip's forearm aside just enough to create space and retreat once more.
Philip's movements were...
Abnormal.
Fluid.
Unpredictable.
Almost reptilian.
Like a swift lizard trapped inside a human body—capable of changing direction instantly, accelerating and stopping without losing control.
Not brute force.
Precision.
Reaction speed.
And that made him dangerous.
Byeol realized it quickly.
Even after opening multiple portals to disrupt his rhythm, reduce his speed, and force mistakes...
Philip was no longer the same.
He had learned.
Adapted.
The first trap had been enough.
From then on, every one of Byeol's tricks was effortlessly avoided.
Exhausting him became Philip's strategy.
If he couldn't stop him...
He would wear him down.
But as the seconds passed, one thing became obvious.
Byeol was tiring first.
This wasn't his first battle of the day.
Fatigue accumulated.
And Philip knew it.
With several feints and directional simulations from Philip, Byeol's accuracy began to slip.
His portals no longer appeared exactly where they should.
A weakness.
And Philip didn't hesitate to exploit it.
The sword rose, gathering momentum for a decisive strike—
But without warning...
Byeol was hit first.
A direct jab.
Sharp.
Violent.
The impact exploded against his face.
His head snapped back, yet the sword was already coming.
All his focus had to shift there.
One clean strike...
And everything would end.
'I can't let it hit me.'
Acting almost on instinct, Byeol thrust both arms forward.
With precision at the very limit of his abilities, he grabbed Philip's shoulder with one hand and his forearm with the other.
The blade stopped mere millimeters from his face.
By a thread.
Philip laughed.
A light laugh.
Almost amused.
"Let's see how long you can hold that position... hahaha."
The position was unsustainable.
Byeol's torso was completely exposed.
Philip took full advantage.
He unleashed a brutal sequence of punches, knees, and kicks.
Blow after blow crashed into Byeol's body.
Byeol twisted and shifted, avoiding as much as possible, but Philip adjusted to every movement and continued landing strikes.
It was a controlled massacre.
Even so...
Byeol refused to let go.
He knew that the moment he released Philip's arm, the blade would find his body.
His ocular powers no longer responded at full capacity.
The exhaustion was overwhelming.
'Think... Byeol, think...'
Another strike was coming.
At the limit, he forced a reaction.
This time he threw his entire weight forward, pushing Philip with him.
He felt his opponent follow the movement.
Then suddenly stopped.
Released him.
And launched himself backward.
It would be close.
Very close.
But it was the only option he had.
Even surprised, Philip adapted instantly.
The sword appeared again.
Byeol raised his arms to protect his face...
But this time it wasn't enough.
The blade touched him.
The poison entered.
The sensation was immediate.
His skin began to decay, rotting as if time itself accelerated upon contact.
Without hesitation, Byeol ripped off his jacket and threw it away before the contamination spread further.
Too late.
Philip was already on him again.
This time there would be no room to escape the same way.
With the last of his strength, Byeol opened a portal directly in the sword's path.
The blade approached.
About to enter.
But Philip read the move.
In one unexpected motion, he altered the trajectory and switched the sword to his left hand, sliding it behind his neck—mere millimeters from cutting through.
That distance...
Impossible to miss.
Desperation flashed across Byeol's eyes.
'I don't have another option... I'll have to try.'
Philip struck.
A precise, deadly diagonal slash from shoulder to opposite hip.
But something was wrong.
The only thing Philip felt...
Was his own blade passing through Byeol's body.
No resistance.
No blood.
Only...
Emptiness.
The lack of impact caused Philip to lose balance.
His body pitched forward.
Almost colliding with Byeol.
That was the moment.
Too close.
Far too close.
Byeol reacted.
He drove his knee upward with everything he had left and slammed it into the soldier's stomach.
The air exploded from Philip's lungs.
His body folded and dropped to one knee.
Without allowing recovery, Byeol spun and delivered a vicious kick to the side of Philip's face.
The impact launched him through a storefront window.
Glass shattered.
His body crashed inside.
Silence.
For a second.
The sword landed in the middle of the street.
Byeol approached.
And picked it up.
He studied it briefly, feeling its weight, its presence, the living poison still running through its blade.
Then he looked up.
"Looks like it's my turn to use it now... don't you think?"
The soldier emerged from the store in a fury, eyes glowing with intense blue-violet light.
The next instant, he launched himself toward Byeol at terrifying speed.
Byeol reacted.
He feigned an attack with the sword—
Then retreated at the last moment.
Philip frowned.
"What the hell...?"
And before he could understand what was happening, Byeol threw the sword to the right—directly into one of his portals.
Instinctively, Philip followed the blade with his eyes.
Mistake.
The portal closed.
The sword vanished.
For a fraction of a second, Philip's attention shifted.
And that was enough.
When he looked back at Byeol— Already within striking distance— He saw his face.
A calm smile.
Confident.
Far too confident.
The next instant— Something pierced his back.
Cold.
Precise.
Lethal.
Philip's body stiffened.
Slowly, he lowered his gaze to his chest.
The tip of the sword protruded through it, covered in blood.
His breath failed.
Strength abandoned him.
He staggered.
Then collapsed to his knees.
His eyes lost their glow.
And seconds later, he fell unconscious right there in front of Byeol.
Silence settled over the avenue.
Heavy.
Byeol turned his head and spat blood onto the pavement.
Breathing heavily.
"Son of a bitch... you were hard to put down."
He approached the body, grabbed the sword's hilt, and pulled it free in one firm motion.
The wet sound of metal leaving flesh echoed briefly through the street.
Without hesitation, he opened a small portal and tossed the weapon inside.
"I think I'll keep it... it might come in handy."
Little by little, he was beginning to pick up Haneul's habits.
He paused.
His eyes fixed on the sword resting within the portal, as if he had already made a decision.
I'll call you... Noctyra.
The portal closed.
Byeol straightened himself, running one hand through his hair while wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the other.
There was still more to do.
Without wasting another second, he prepared to go help Nuri and Haneul