CHAPTER 157: STALKER (3)

Varik didn’t speak when he closed the reinforced door behind him.

He let the code cycle. Watched the three failsafe locks spin to neutral. The panel blinked green. Sealed.

Behind that door, Lucen was safe.

For now.

Varik stepped back into the dark hallway. Concrete and old pipe. Damp chill in the air. Soundless. No cameras down here. No systems.

He exhaled through his nose. Shoulders low. Fingers flexing once.

Then he walked.

Up the staircase. Two flights. Into the maintenance tunnel beneath the arcade.

The moment he reached the top, his system pinged. Not with warnings.

With awareness.

[Surrounding mana field: Stable]

[Arcane displacement: Present. Approximate radius: 300m]

[User status: Undetected]

[Combat authorization: Unlocked]

He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to.

Varik moved without hurry. Left the alley on foot. No weapon drawn. No cast active.

Didn’t need one.

The white-haired man had left a trace. Not visible. Not for most people. But Varik had fought him before. Learned the scent of his steps. Learned the distortion of pressure in the air that came after he moved.

It wasn’t much. Just a half-second delay. A ripple that bent shadows in a subtle arc.

But that was enough.

Varik’s boots hit the curb on 4th and Carver, then turned left, deeper into the industrial side of town. Warehouses. Abandoned grocery chains. Empty lots with rusted fences.

He followed the trail.

Didn’t look like it, maybe.

But every one of his senses was locked in.

Every shift in temperature. Every reflective angle on the building glass. Every silent interruption in the air.

And there, he felt it.

An echo.

Like someone had left an open door in the world. The kind you couldn’t see, just feel.

His right hand hovered near his belt. Not touching. Just awareness.

’Don’t pretend you’re subtle, palehead.’

Varik took the next corner and stopped walking.

Flat lot. Cemented. Broken weeds. No cover.

Across the center stood a man.

Same white hair. Same sleeveless tunic. Same posture, like he wasn’t in the middle of anything serious. One hand rested casually on the back of a bench. The other toyed with a silver coin.

He didn’t blink.

Varik said nothing.

The man finally smiled. "Took you long enough."

Varik answered like gravel. "Didn’t rush. Wasn’t a threat."

"Still isn’t."

Varik’s head tilted. "You sure about that?"

The coin flipped.

And vanished.

Varik didn’t move.

Didn’t need to.

Behind his back, his system tracked it.

[Artifact: Trace Tier | Function: Divination, Silence, Recording]

The man shrugged. "Just wanted to see him up close."

Varik’s voice didn’t rise. "You picked a loud way to do it."

"He’s yours, isn’t he?"

"He’s no one’s."

"But he trained under you."

Varik’s silence was answer enough.

The man smiled again. Thin. "Then I had to know."

"You found out," Varik said. "Leave it."

"I’m not the only one watching."

Varik’s eyes narrowed. "They won’t get the chance."

The man raised both hands slowly. "Hey. I’m not saying I’ll try again."

Varik’s jaw set. "Don’t lie."

The other man held that grin, but his weight shifted. Barely. Just enough to show readiness. He was trying to read the range.

Varik didn’t flinch.

Didn’t twitch.

Then moved.

One step.

Not forward.

Sideways.

Fast.

So fast the air cracked from where his boot left the pavement.

By the time the white-haired man blinked, Varik was already behind him.

Two fingers pressed to the back of his neck.

Not hard.

Just enough pressure to say: I win.

The man froze.

The silver coin dropped from nowhere and bounced once. Rolled to a stop.

Varik spoke low. "You ever come near him again, I won’t let you walk away."

"You wouldn’t kill me."

"I’ll take your legs."

Silence.

The man exhaled. "...That’s fair."

Varik stepped back.

No flash. No strike. No show.

Just movement.

The white-haired man turned, slowly. His hands lowered. That calm never quite left his face. But his shoulder twitched. The one closest to where Varik had touched him.

That spot was going to bruise.

Varik met his eyes. "Who sent you?"

"Does it matter?"

"I’ll ask once."

The man paused. "One of the upper ring syndicates. Not the Guild. Not public."

"Name."

The man shook his head.

Varik didn’t repeat himself.

Instead, he vanished.

One blink.

Then reappeared four meters closer.

This time with a hand on the other man’s chest.

The strike wasn’t loud. Wasn’t even full-force.

But the sound that followed, ribs buckling. Air leaving lungs. A grunt deep in the throat, wasn’t human-sounding.

The white-haired man dropped to one knee.

Still conscious.

Barely.

Varik stood over him. Voice low. Cold.

"No syndicate has clearance to look at him. Not yours. Not anyone’s."

The man coughed once. Blood hit the pavement.

"Understood."

Varik didn’t move until he saw the system blink green again.

[Threat suppression: Confirmed]

[Recall trace: Removed]

Then he turned.

Walked away.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t need to.

Lucen was safe.

For now.

—

Varik stood alone in the shattered lot beneath dull morning light, the air smelling faintly of burned metal and damp concrete. Blood from the white‑haired man stained the pavement. His shirt was torn. Still breathing, barely. But breathing.

From the edge of the rubble came a soft footfall.

"Impressive work," said a voice smooth as river water. It wasn’t the white-haired man. Not at all.

A figure emerged through the haze: tall, lean, his body draped in a long coat the color of storm clouds. The fabric shimmered when he moved, faint glyph-lace glowing where folds shifted.

His hair was black, long, pulled into a precise braid that dropped past his waist. Eyes were layers of amber and grey, sharp; but distant.

Varik responded first. "You’re late."

The stranger’s voice touched the air like ice. "I arrived exactly when I wished to." He glanced over the prostrate white-haired man, expression unconcerned. "I expected you to widen the gap. Instead—forced a surrender."

Varik didn’t shift. Just studied him. Even under ruined lights, you could see the faint runic scars on his hands, glyph tattoos that pulsed with silken mana. He looked unmistakably older, deeper lines etched around his eyes, measured weight in every motion.

"Who are you?" Varik asked.

The stranger ran one hand through his hair. "A traveler."

Varik let that pass. Travelers didn’t wear rune scars or carry aura this thick. "We don’t have traveling jobs."

The stranger smiled faintly, just a curve at the edge. "Then call me the facilitator." He paused. "Hunters call me The Metronome."

His coat lashed in the breeze. "I am an SS‑Rank."

Varik’s system overlay blinked red. He sensed something beyond interface flags, ancient power, deep well of control. Aura wrapped the other man like a second skin, coiling slow but unbreakable.

Varik held himself calm. "There are only rumors about you."

The Metronome tilted his head. "Rumors exist to shade what can’t be described." He approached, slow. "I’ve come for you, Varik. Reasonable to meet. You protect someone I also monitored."

Varik watched him. "All I do is second-tier mentoring and containment. I don’t escort surveillance targets."

The other man brushed one fingertip over the white-haired man’s temple. He didn’t flinch. "He was a mistake. Didn’t file well. But his error introduced me to you."

Varik’s jaw tightened. "I’m not interested in introductions."

The man nodded. Soft. "Fair enough." He turned, then paused. "But there’s—an expectation you accept my presence here or decline it formally." No flatter. No threat.

Varik exhaled slowly. Eyes narrowed. He stepped away from the fallen man. "I protect him tonight. After that—you leave or bleed."

The SS-rank’s lips curled. "Fair flourish." He backed away without break. "I will not interfere. But expect me again. We may need to arrange table terms."

Varik let him fade into the brightness and dusk beyond the broken building.

Only then did he look back at the white-haired man. Still breathing. Still alive.

Varik pressed his palm to the fallen man’s fang-thin ribs, detonation shockwave wound. He whispered: "Congrats—you just got a bodyguard hotter than your assassin."

The man coughed once. Blood dripped. "Don’t let him near me again."

Varik stood. "Night changes. I stay."

He stepped away. Rooted back in his core discipline. Sword sheathed. Shadow, structure, storm.

One of the Top Ten SS‑Ranks in the world.

And now the rest of the night smoldered between them.

—

The air was still wrong.

Not hot. Not cold. Just... tense. Like it’d been vacuum-sealed around them.

Varik didn’t move right away. He just stood still, as if waiting for something else to happen, however nothing did. Not at all.

’It’s time to go back to Lucen..’

His figure suddenly blurred due to his speed. He flew in the air towards the earlier location where he dropped Lucen off.

’More people are watching you now. You need to get stronger way quicker.’

He landed and walked inside, walking down the hidden staircase into the safe room.

’You also need more experience and knowledge. You lack everything for now, however you’re special. Very special Lucen.’