After surveying the area one last time, she lowered her gaze from the rooftops and turned it back toward Narvel. Her eyes paused briefly as they registered his bare chest and the iron mask on his face.
Narvel, realizing just then that he had stepped out shirtless, quickly tried to explain himself. "I didn't have the time to get dressed when I woke up in a soundless sub-dimension," he said, his voice plain, but firm enough to ward off any weird assumptions.
"I'm not judging," she replied, a small amused glint flickering in her eyes. "You seem new here. Are you just passing through, or planning to stay a while?"
There was curiosity in her voice. To her, someone wearing a mask, carrying the aura of an Awakened Nova, yet wielding strength far beyond his apparent stage, couldn't possibly be a simple person.
"Just passing by," Narvel answered. "I should be out of here by tomorrow evening."
"Well, then I suppose I should let you know," she began, her tone growing serious, "almost everyone that's left the Anchor through the main gates has returned as a Huskmask. I'm not trying to dissuade you or scare you, but it's something you should be cautious of. Many of us have been trapped in the Anchor for a few days, waiting for the Anchor's Mayor to return from the other World."
Narvel frowned at the words, the weight of them settling in his mind. "Even with the powerful old man I saw outside the Anchor, there are still monsters that dare to ambush Novas?"
"Old man?" she echoed, turning to glance at her teammates. "Is there any old man… one of the city's guards stationed outside the Anchor?" she asked.
"None that I know of," replied the male Nova who had taken a heavy blow to the chest earlier. His voice was still strained from the damage, each word sounding as though it came through clenched pain.
"Maybe the Captain might know something," offered the other Nova, his tone uncertain.
"I doubt there's anyone like that stationed outside Ironwood Anchor," she concluded, her eyes narrowing in thought.
Narvel felt a creeping sensation down his spine.
'I didn't see wrong. And I didn't sense wrong. So... was that old man human, or was he a Huskmask?' The thought whispered through his mind with a chill. He had passed by that old man thinking he was the warder—someone strong enough to keep the dangers at bay. But now he had to consider the possibility that the old man was the danger.
"If you don't mind me asking," she said, her voice cutting gently through his thoughts, "what's your name, sir?"
He hesitated. Narvel had no intention of giving out his real name, not here, not now. After a brief pause, he simply answered, "My name is Ghost."
"Quite a unique name," she said with a small smile. "I'm Sersi. Part of Ironwood's guard. It's a pleasure, Ghost. As a token of gratitude for helping us tonight, I'd like to offer you this."
She extended her hand, and in it was the red ring that had dropped from the creature's ashes. Narvel rarely wore any kind of jewelry, but Ebonveil stirred at the sight of the ring, resonating faintly.
"Sure," he said. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Before anything else could be said, the sharp sound of glass shattering rang out from Narvel's room above. All eyes turned upward just in time to see a black figure leap from the broken window, and a beast trailing behind it.
It was Voidscale and the black figure was the very man Narvel had found in his wardrobe earlier.
Voidscale soared through the air with sleek momentum, and its clawed limbs found a path toward the man's neck. As it reached the figure, it swiped at his neck.
Ding!
A clash.
The man managed to block the strike with a small knife, but he had misjudged the force behind the claw. The impact sent his body careening downward, far from his intended landing spot. He hit the ground with a crash, skidding across the stone road.
Before he could recover, a hand clamped around his neck and lifted him into the air. The grip was iron. The owner of the hand was Narvel.
No one had seen how he moved. He had covered the distance between them in an instant, too fast for anyone to process.
"Who are you?" Narvel asked, his voice low but sharp. "And why were you hiding in the closet in my room?"
"I—" the man choked out, struggling to speak, but Narvel's grip only tightened, crushing the words back into his throat.
Then, in that same breathless moment, another hand appeared—gently, but firmly—on Narvel's own. The sudden appearance came without fanfare but with deliberate weight.
"Esteemed customer," the new voice said, smooth and urgent, "although my nephew has done something immoral, I hope you can forgive him just this once."
It was the woman from the inn. The same one who had tried earlier to cheat Narvel out of his Gene Fragments.
Ignoring the woman's words, Narvel's grip only tightened around the man's throat. The tension in his forearm was visible, with his veins protruding beneath his skin as the man's windpipe creaked under the pressure, close to snapping.
The woman's patience wore thin.
"Excuse me for my impoliteness," she said, voice clipped and formal. But before the words had even settled in the air, her killing intent surged. Her fingers sliced toward Narvel's neck in a swift arc, sharp enough to sever bone.
Narvel felt the danger before it fully reached him.
It wasn't just a bluff—this strike carried weight. He instantly activated [True Double], channeling the energy into raw strength. He didn't go all out, instead dialing it up to a controlled one-fold increase and raising his strength stat from 37 to 74.
Releasing the man from his grip, Narvel pivoted and threw a punch to meet her incoming strike.
Boom!
The collision of the force sent a ripple through the still air. Dust kicked up around them as the impact echoed through the street. Neither one moved an inch. They stood locked in place, hands trembling slightly from the recoil but refusing to yield.
Sersi, watching from nearby narrowed her eyes.
'They're evenly matched?' She thought.
It didn't add up.
The masked woman radiated more power than she did, and Sersi was already at the peak of the Sundered Level. Meaning that the woman was most likely a Claimed Level Nova. By all standards, Narvel should have been overwhelmed.
But he wasn't. Not even close.
Before the standoff could escalate, a new pressure descended onto the street. It wasn't loud, but its presence was noticed. Both fighters instinctively turned their eyes upward, toward the roof of the inn.
Another woman stood there.
She wore a white mask that covered her face from the lower jaw to just beneath her nose. Her hair was short, in a dark cut that brushed the tips of her ears. She was draped in a green gown that was then hidden underneath a green robe that wrapped around her frame, concealing most of her figure, yet her aura was unmistakable.
"Vice-captain," Sersi called out quickly, stepping back in deference. But the woman didn't acknowledge her.
Her gaze fell squarely on the two fighters below.
"Fighting is prohibited within the Anchor. Are the two of you hoping to be arrested tonight?" Her tone was flat, but behind it lay an undeniable authority. One that promised consequences if ignored.
Narvel studied her carefully.
Just from her presence, he could tell that if she made a move, he might have to put everything on the line just to walk away. She didn't seem hostile completely, but she radiated the kind of strength that would make even a battle-hardened killer think twice.
Though from the way he acted in the catacombs, he seemed like a battle-hungry individual, but such a reception was reserved for those who could truly incite the hunger in him. His hunger for battle simmers just beneath the surface, yet only stirred when facing a worthy opponent.
'It's not worth fighting these people,' Narvel thought, letting the energy from his [True Double] slowly drain out of his limbs. 'Besides, I need to be at full strength for tomorrow's journey.'
"I expect to be repaid for the poor services," he said curtly. With that, he turned to call his companion. "Voidscale."
The creature slid out from under the man's clothes, its scales rippled and shifted as it moved with an eerie grace. All eyes followed its path as it swam through the air.
Narvel gave no further words.
He and Voidscale ascended back through the window, slipping into the room above and shutting the window behind them with a quiet finality.
The silence lingered for a beat.
"Was that… an Ego Beast?" The Vice-captain finally asked, her voice low, as if still unsure of what she had just witnessed. The same question went through the minds of the rest too.