Billy moved through the ruined fortress like a phantom, his steps silent on the cracked stone. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of blood. Shadows twisted in the flickering torchlight, but he didn’t slow.

  Ahead, Reinhardt Vale’s footsteps echoed—deliberate, controlled.

  The bastard wanted him to follow.

  Billy didn’t care.

  He passed a set of fallen mercenaries, their throats slit with surgical precision. Not his work. Someone else was here.

  His fingers tightened around the chaos blade.

  Something was very wrong.

  Billy stepped into the heart of the ruins—a vast, open chamber, once a grand hall, now a battlefield of jagged stone and broken pillars.

  Reinhardt stood at the center, sword drawn. His crimson coat fluttered in the wind. Behind him, a massive metal door loomed, its surface etched with ancient symbols.

  Billy’s instincts screamed. There was something behind that door.

  Reinhardt smirked. “You took your time.”

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  Billy strode forward. “You ran.”

  A chuckle. “And yet, here we are.”

  Billy raised his blade. “No more games. No more tricks.”

  Reinhardt’s smirk widened. He threw off his coat, revealing a suit of dark, enchanted armor. Runes flared to life along the metal.

  “Agreed,” he said. Then he struck.

  Their swords met in a burst of chaotic energy. The shockwave shattered stone, sending debris flying.

  Reinhardt was fast. Faster than before. His strikes were brutal, precise—calculated to kill.

  Billy countered, slipping into his assassin’s rhythm. Every step, every movement was perfectly measured.

  But Reinhardt didn’t fight like a mercenary. He fought like a predator.

  Blades flashed. Sparks flew.

  Billy feinted left—Reinhardt read it. A counter-slash nearly took his head.

  Billy ducked—Reinhardt’s boot caught his ribs. He staggered.

  Pain flared. He was losing.

  And Reinhardt knew it.

  “Disappointing,” the mercenary mocked, rolling his shoulders. “I expected more from the great Billy Knight.”

  Billy wiped blood from his lip. His chaos blade whispered.

  Use me. End this.

  His fingers twitched. He could feel it—the raw power waiting to be unleashed.

  But at what cost?

  A deep rumble shook the fortress.

  The metal door behind Reinhardt began to open.

  Billy’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t him.

  Reinhardt frowned, glancing back. “What the—”

  A black mist poured from the opening. Cold. Ancient. Wrong.

  Billy’s stomach dropped. Erebus.

  Reinhardt’s smirk vanished. “Shit.”

  Billy moved.

  In that split second, he had a choice—finish the fight or face the greater threat.

  And Billy never hesitated.

  He rushed the door.