The scent was faint, but distinct.
Salt. Jasmine. And something synthetic—like perfume masked over metal.
HeartEater moved through the crumbling alleyways and broken warehouses, his breath shallow beneath the mask. The city's edge faded to sand and open sky. The ocean was close.
She was close.
He crouched low atop a rusted billboard and stared ahead. Nestled against the shoreline, a pristine villa shimmered in moonlight—white stone, soft lights, balconies trimmed with vines. Far too quiet for an honest home.
He leapt from the rooftop, boots cracking gravel on landing.
And that's when they came.
Teenagers—five of them—emerged from behind parked scooters and shadows. Blank stares. Headsets glowing. Bats slung over shoulders, skateboards in hand.
"Move," HeartEater growled.
They didn't.
The first swung. The board cracked against his arm. It didn't break skin, but it staggered him. Another came from behind—bat to spine.
He didn't strike back. Not at first. These were kids. Victims.
He ducked a punch, grabbed the nearest headset—tried to rip it off. It sparked. Then—
Boom.
The boy's head burst with a shrill pop, fire and brain matter splattering across the pavement.
The others screamed—but it wasn't their voices. They screamed in static.
HeartEater's eyes burned. Enough.
With one fluid pull, his sickles flashed from his belt. He ducked under a swing, slicing the headset clean from a girl's skull. She collapsed, sobbing.
He spun—another swipe—another freed. Panic now. Two fled. One knelt shaking.
The street went silent.
HeartEater stood over the body of the exploded teen, his chest rising slow, tight.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "You didn't deserve this."
The scent still lingered. Faint. Floral. Controlled.
He turned and continued on.
The villa gates loomed tall and silver. He didn't hesitate.
He jumped.
Landing silently on the other side, he walked up the stone path—twin sickles glinting in hand. Curtains parted on the second-floor balcony.
Morgana stood there, robed in moonlight and white silk, a glass of wine in one hand, her expression unreadable.
"Well, well…" she purred. "You made it. Did the children slow you down? Or was it guilt?"
HeartEater said nothing. His mask reflected her glow.
Morgana stepped back into shadow. "Come in, then. We've all been waiting."
The front doors swung open on whispering hinges.
Five suited men stood in a fan formation. Black suits. Tactical posture. And behind them—two butlers, gaunt and pale, each holding a sword longer than their arms.
HeartEater didn't wait.
He launched forward like a storm breaking a window—sickle to throat, elbow to gut, boot to ribs. Blood sprayed. One down. A second lunged—missed. HeartEater drove his knee up into the man's chin, then spun, slicing across another's chest.
Flesh tore. Screams erupted.
Another guard tackled him from behind—he slammed them both into a pillar. The sickles sang, dragging across bone. A final punch crumpled the last man.
And then—the butlers stepped forward.
Elegant. Precise. Swords humming as they drew.
Steel met steel.
They clashed in a flurry of sparks and shrieks, blades slashing the air. One struck his side—he parried, kicked the other in the chest. But the second spun behind him, plunging the sword deep between his shoulder blades.
HeartEater staggered—growled—then kicked back hard. The butler stumbled.
With one roar, HeartEater gripped a sickle in reverse grip, jammed it under the butler's chin—up, through the mouth. A grotesque rip. Flesh split like silk. The man fell twitching.
The last one hesitated.
HeartEater's other blade curved up, fast and clean—slicing from hip to rib.
Silence.
He stood in the wreckage—bloody, panting, the sword still lodged in his back.
He reached behind, yanked it free. His body shuddered, then knit itself back together, tendons crawling over bone like vines.
He dropped both sickles. Metal clanged on tile.
A slow clap echoed across the hall.
Morgana sat in a chair before him now—legs crossed, wine glass untouched, a lazy smile playing on her lips.
"You do make an entrance," she said. "Messy, brutal, theatrical. Just like I hoped."
HeartEater said nothing.
She raised her glass.
"Shall we begin?"