Chapter 25: The Shadows That Strike
The late afternoon sun cast long, golden fingers over the sprawling cityscape of Lagos. The group strolled along Freedom Park now, Karen marveling at the blend of nature and ruin—ivy-wrapped colonial stone, trees swaying with tired dignity, children laughing in the distance. Street artists painted murals along cracked walls, and the air was rich with the scent of roasted corn and fresh rain on concrete.
For a moment, they forgot.
Forgot the Veil.
Forgot the threat that hunted them with persistence and hunger.
But the Veil had not forgotten.
From the corner of a closed art gallery, the fruit vendor was the first to change—his skin shimmered faintly, shedding the illusion. Veins of black Soul Ink curled along his arms. Two others peeled off from the crowd near the food stalls—one with pale blue eyes and a crescent brand etched onto her temple, the other with a dull gleaming blade strapped to his thigh.
They moved fast—too fast for the crowd to notice.
Karen's Proto Domain stirred violently. She staggered back as the first operative surged forward, blade flickering toward her like a flash of metal lightning.
Then—
CRACK.
A spectral blur slammed down from above. A veil operative's body collapsed in a heap, neck twisted at an impossible angle.
The Soul Reapers had arrived.
Sia's ghostly warriors materialized mid-air, cloaks fluttering with supernatural grace. Wreathed in black aura, their blades hummed with Soul Severance energy—a technique designed not to kill, but to erase.
The leader moved like death incarnate—his form a flurry of phantom strikes. One of the Veil operatives screamed as both his arms were severed in a blur of motion, his soul energy imploding inward with a sickening snap.
"No mercy," came the whispered command, almost a song.
Another Reaper, masked and silent, pierced the heart of the crescent-branded woman before she could activate her domain. Her body shattered into glowing fragments, evaporating into the dust like forgotten ash.
Cassandra had her hands up already, guarding the others behind her with a growing shield of dark crimson energy.
Karen stumbled back toward her, trembling, her Proto Domain reacting in erratic pulses. "W-what… What's happening?"
"Reapers," Cassandra muttered grimly. "Sia's pets. They don't arrest. They cleanse."
One veil operative tried to flee—tried. The Reapers didn't chase him.
They simply pointed a palm.
And his soul was torn apart mid-run, disintegrating into flickers of blue and grey.
The massacre took less than forty seconds.
When it ended, not a single civilian knew anything had happened. A small illusion veil had fallen during the ambush—one of the Reapers' tricks. To the city, nothing had occurred.
To Karen, the street was stained with unseen blood.
The Reaper commander turned once toward the group. His mask shimmered slightly with arcane light.
"Targets safe," he said in a dry, hollow voice. "All threats eliminated. Continue with caution."
Then he and his unit vanished again—slipping back into the folds of Lagos like wraiths made of memory.
Karen dropped to a bench, her breath coming fast and uneven. She looked up at the sky, struggling to process.
"We're not students anymore," she whispered.
Cassandra sat beside her, quiet for a long moment. Then, softly:
"No. We're prey in a city of wolves."
And far above them, from a distant rooftop, a second wave of Veil eyes watched, silent and waiting.