The moon hung low over the academy ruins, cloaked in the eerie quiet that followed chaos. Ashes still drifted through the air like snowflakes, and the crater where the central dome once stood pulsed faintly with lingering mana.
Harvey walked alone beneath the broken archways, hands buried in his coat pockets, steps slow but deliberate. His face was unreadable. His thoughts were not.
> The traces are faint... but too clean. Someone wiped the scene after the attack. Someone with experience.
His eyes scanned the ruins. He wasn't looking for survivors. He was hunting answers.
Then he saw it—burnt into the floor of the training ground. A sigil. Old. Forbidden. A blood seal, drawn in a pattern only a select few Executioners were authorized to use.
Harvey crouched beside it, tracing a gloved finger along the charred edges. His system hummed faintly.
> [System Alert: Ancient Contract Seal detected.]
[Warning: Interference from Unknown External Source.]
[Risk Level: High.]
He didn't flinch. He stood.
That's when he heard it. The whisper of steel unsheathing. The crackle of invisible mana. And a voice—hollow, distorted.
"You shouldn't be here, Harvey Vandrel."
The shadows warped behind him, and from them stepped a figure in a hooded executioner's robe—silver-trimmed, faceless behind a porcelain mask shaped like a weeping skull.
Harvey didn't turn. "You're late."
The Executioner tilted his head. "I was watching. Curious how long you'd take to find the truth."
A beat passed. Then Harvey spun, casting a wind-enhanced step spell—vanishing and reappearing behind the masked assassin in a blink.
Clang!
A short blade caught his dagger mid-swing. The Executioner grinned behind the mask. "Fast. But predictable."
Harvey smirked.
"Who sent you? Zaine?"
The Executioner said nothing. Instead, he dropped a blood rune at Harvey's feet.
It flared.
And the duel began.
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