A low whistle cut through the empty streets as he strolled, the sound lingering in the still air. His eyes scanned the quiet neighborhood, searching for the one his mentor had mentioned. But he wasn't truly alone.
Just out of sight, she moved beside him, unseen by human eyes. A silent observer. Her gaze never left him, but more than that—she watched Mister End. Studying him. Measuring him. Though invisible, her presence pressed against the air, like a phantom lingering just beyond the veil of reality.
No one knew where Sarah Sinrur came from, only that she existed—somewhere, always near. Like a bouquet of white flowers on the verge of wilting, there was something fragile about her, something fleeting. Yet, she lingered, just beyond reach, watching.
She moved like a whisper in the wind, her presence brushing against the world without ever fully touching it. Always near Mister End, yet never within sight. If one were to notice her—truly see her—realization would come too late. Their fate would be sealed, their breath stolen before they could utter her name.
"She is close. Don't doubt my prediction."
"So it is a girl. Quite intriguing, how can she defeat me?"
"You'll see."
----
*Paige's POV*
Slowly pacing as they walk bit by bit, carrying her injured father Nagumo, they were almost near to their home. Wheezing from fatigue and constant clinging of hope that it will be alright.They got stumbled a horrified guy but for Nagumo he is familiar.
"Connor, fancy seeing you here."
"Nagumo... What happened to you?" Paige lets Nagumo lie on the road as she takes a break from carrying her all this time.
"Just got hit by some monster, where are you heading?"
"Didn't you hear? All people must go to the Author Police shelter to avoid those monsters. I was being chased by one of those horrifying monsters myself and ---"
Blood erupted from Connor's stomach in a violent spray, his body jerking as if yanked by an invisible force. A flash of metal followed—a cruel, unrelenting strike cleaving through half of him. His limbs twitched, eyes wide with shock, but there was no time to scream.
The blade hoisted him into the air, grinding through flesh and bone with sickening precision, shredding him apart like butchered livestock. The scent of iron thickened in the air as what remained of him fell in pieces to the ground.
"Connor!!!" The monster is now eating his own friend and gulping it in front of them, Paige immediately carried his own father and tried getting out of there but it was already too late. Slowly it gains pace as slowly aiming at Paige's back.
"Leave me be my daughter!! You'll die!!"
"I don't want to leave you dad!" Under desperate circumstances, she has to do it despite it being hopeless. He couldn't leave without her father.
The world can be unbearably cruel, an unfeeling force that twists fate without mercy. One moment, you're standing on solid ground; the next, it's ripped from beneath you. There's no warning, no fairness—just an invisible hand deciding who gets to live, who has to suffer, and who disappears without a trace.
It's suffocating, isn't it? That feeling of being powerless, like a puppet in someone else's story. No control, no say. Just the weight of reality pressing down, relentless and cold.
And yet, even in that darkness, something lingers—a question, maybe even a whisper. Do we really have no control? Or is there still something, however small, that we can hold onto?
Without warning, the dreaded monster burst apart, its flesh tearing as if some unseen force had detonated it from within. A wet, sickening explosion filled the air, sending chunks of meat and sinew hurtling in all directions.
The streets were painted red in an instant, the rancid stench of torn flesh clinging to the wind. Stray limbs thudded against walls, a grotesque rain of carnage scattering across the pavement as silence fell—a grim aftermath of destruction.
Standing before them was a tall man clad in a sleek black suit, his presence commanding and unwavering. His hair, spiked like jagged thorns, bore a deep, dark blue hue that seemed to absorb the light. Just near the left side of his mouth, a single mole marked his otherwise sharp features.
His gaze, unreadable, carried an air of quiet menace, as if he already knew how this encounter would end.
Only his smirk stood out against the shadows that clung to his uncanny features. The curve of his lips held something unreadable—mockery, amusement, or perhaps a quiet promise of violence.
"There she is." Mister End stood amidst the carnage, his blade slick with the creature's blood. He didn't revel in the victory, nor did he pause to admire his work. Instead, he simply straightened, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of yet another meaningless kill. The air around him felt still, heavy—like something unseen lingering just beyond reach.
Above him, perched casually on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, Sarah watched, her smile subtle, knowing. She had seen this scene play out before—Mister End, standing proud, cutting down whatever stood in his way. But she wasn't here for the battle. She was here for the moment after, the quiet lull before fate twisted its knife.
Swinging her legs idly, she rested her chin on her palm, her gaze never leaving him. He was strong, but strength alone was never enough. Not in this game. Not when the one meant to kill him still had a role to play.
"My name is Mister End, And who might you be?"