https://youtu.be/9hK-oeMP7qM

Nighttime fell, and so did many of the civilians of Suzaku. The moon was a signal of comfort - a cool, gentle light that allowed the hard workers of the world to rest.

But for many a scoundrel, this was where work began. And for many others, the day simply didn't end here. Ashbel himself, who was accustomed to sleepless nights, simply didn't wish to go to sleep yet. Viera had gone to bed early, so while he was sure she was dozing off, he left his room, sword in hand in case of emergency, and went to walk into the night.

It wasn't often he went to the capital cities, so it surprised him how different Suzaku was under the umbral cover of night. The red-stoned city seemed almost grey beneath the night sky, and it was much quieter, cooler and more peaceful than the day. Most of the stalls were empty and unmanned, and the streets had shabby-looking, dirt-faced humans at every corner - some with cups in their hands, others with knives. But one look at him was all they needed to know that he wasn't to be trifled with, so they left him be.

Such was the life of a demon, Ashbel sighed. So few and far between, yet feared by all who laid eyes upon them. At least it didn't interfere with business, usually - having the big bad demon on your side was more of a reassurance, he reckoned. But alas, to the general public, he would always remain a striking sight. He'd mostly learned to ignore it by now, but at times like this, he couldn't help but take notice.

Oh well. As long as they weren't getting in his way, he would stay out of theirs. Live and let live. He continued to walk, examining his surroundings. After a while of aimless wandering, he decided to pay the Torchbearer monument a visit, but along the way, he saw something that compelled him to take cover behind the corner of one of the houses he'd walked past.

Standing around the corner, marching until they suddenly stopped, was a platoon of White Tiger pawns, each one clad in their templar-esque armour with swords by their sides. Indeed, the sound of their boots was unmistakable. But what really shook him was the sight of who was leading them. That white, battle-worn armour, that foxlike helmet, the long blade sheathed on his hip - it was the Rook. And as Ashbel hid, he could only hope that the masked swordsman had not seen him. A vain hope, he was sure, considering the Tigers seemed to stop the moment he showed up.

After a moment of silence that seemed to last an hour for Ashbel, the Rook spoke up in his reverberating bass. "Attention, Tigers! Many of you may wonder why I have summoned you here tonight!" he announced. "And the answer is simple - because today is the day!"

The squadron began to quietly talk amongst themselves, and Ashbel himself was curious. The day for what? This wasn't about him, right?

"We Tigers have banded together for a noble cause - to serve our land and King, as we make the world a better place for all!" the Rook continued, commanding the silence and respect of all present. "And tonight, a power has revealed itself to me. I shall claim it, and the world will be ours to judge."

"A power...is he talking about-"

"Yes, that power! The one passed down every six-hundred years, to choose a hero and save the world! And as the heroes of justice that we are, is it not right that this power should belong to us?" the Rook exclaimed, confirming Ashbel's creeping suspicion. "So I will be that hero! That will be...my torch to bear."

Cue gasps from each of the Tigers, followed by excited, uproarious cheer. But Ashbel was feeling very much the opposite. Rather than excitement, he was overcome with dread. The mere possibility of a White Tiger as a Torchbearer was simply terrifying - if that happened, who knew how many people would be rallied against demonkind?

"Terminating the forest bordering this city, there lies a shrine. And there, we are destined to go! It is there that the Torch's light shines, and there that my destiny will be met."

And if the White Tigers got their way, Ashbel realised, Viera would be crushed. He couldn't let someone else get to the Torch before she did. What if the Rook was, somehow, worthy of the sacred flame? No, he couldn't let this happen!

"A shrine at the end of the forest, eh? Guess I'll just have to beat you there, Rook."

And with this in mind, he fled into the night as discreetly as he could, hoping to find the shrine described. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he ran as quickly as he could, his hand remaining close to the hilt of his sword while he moved. He had to prevent the Torch from falling into the wrong hands.

.........

https://youtu.be/UrSqSdb0OsU

The city bordered an eerie wood, where the shrill sounds of many animals were audible. It seemed to carry its own darkness with it, and the trees were made of a rather pale, dry wood, while the leaves were a darker shade of green than one would expect, while attached to many dry, spindly branches. The ground stopped being stone in front of them, and instead became filled with dry mud and straw-coloured dead grass.

Once he saw the forest up ahead, Ashbel didn't wait a moment before rushing in, keeping his hand on his sword to be drawn at a moment's notice. It was dark in the forest, but Ashbel's night vision came in handy and allowed him to parse his surroundings clearly. Everything appeared in shades of red, and it was all clear.

Despite this, however, Ashbel couldn't help but feel like something was off. Even if the woods were incredibly dark and radiated death, he couldn't help but feel like someone was watching him. People were always watching him, but this was different - he was meant to be alone right now. It wasn't the Tigers, or he would've heard them. He'd been battling them for long enough that he knew subtlety wasn't really their strong suit.

Someone was watching him, definitely. And even though his sense of sight was nearly impeccable, he couldn't see them, nor did he notice the surroundings being disturbed. At once, he slowed down his stride, still walking forth as he looked around. He briefly contemplated setting the forest ablaze, but that would probably cause more problems than it'd solve, and he wasn't exactly in the mood to be declared persona non grata. So he continued walking, proceeding much more carefully than before.

"Hello?" he called out, only to be ignored - unsurprisingly, in hindsight. He looked around, worry painting his face as he slowly drew his blade and looked for a disturbance - any disturbance. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

Still no response. He looked ahead of him, before turning his attention to his sides. Suddenly, he stopped, summoning another sword made of black rock and flourishing them both, quick as a flash. "Aha! Found you!"

But whoever was there seemed to have called his bluff, as there was no further response. He held his swords out for a while before sighing, dropping the rock blade and shaking his head. "Maybe I'm just paranoid..." he murmured. But this was certainly unlike him. Why would he be so scared of an imaginary threat?

Just as he prepared to continue walking as normal, he felt a sudden, stabbing pain in his right arm and stopped, eyes widening as he examined the site of his suffering and found a silver throwing knife sticking out of it, the small wound beginning to leak with blood.

"So someone was here." Ashbel murmured through clenched teeth, pulling the knife out and tossing it aside, picking up his blade and raising it threateningly. "Alright, buddy, what's your deal?"

"Whaaat? I didn't do that!" a casual-sounding voice, slightly androgynous but most likely belonging to a man, rang out. "Must've been the wind."

https://youtu.be/AsoIw1EUt_c

Ashbel immediately turned his head in the direction of the voice as a figure emerged from the shadows, revealing himself as a man with long black hair, clad in grey leather armour and wearing a dark blue, hooded cloak. Beneath said cloak, an icy blue pair of eyes could be made out. His face bore an entertained smile on it, and while he stepped forth, he twirled a gleaming silver dagger in one hand.

Once he had a clear visual on the hooded man, Ashbel immediately brandished his sword, glaring at the figure, who gave an amused chuckle in response. "Hey, now, why the long face?"

"You just threw a knife at me," Ashbel pointed out, considerably less amused. "And I'm really feeling like responding in kind."

"Haha! Yeah, that's a common response." the rogue beamed. "But can you back it up?"

Before Ashbel could prepare a witty comeback, the ruffian put his dagger away and pulled out a small handful of black, marble-sized spheres, throwing them to the ground as they erupted into a massive cloud of multicoloured smoke that obscured all of Ashbel's immediate vision.

The smoke cleared away, and Ashbel saw the man standing there, arms suspended into a shrugging gesture. He lunged at him, only to nearly lose his footing, and as he killed his momentum, he looked down, observing that the ground in a wide area had been coated in a thin sheet of ice, and chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Real sly."

"Heh, what a coincidence! My name also happens to be 'Sly'." the man smirked, exiting his stance and gliding across the ice while brandishing two identical daggers. "Nominative determinism sure is fun, huh?"

Spinning and twirling about as if to boast about his superior manoeuvrability, Sly emerged in front of Ashbel and slashed twice, which Ashbel attempted to parry only for it to be a feint. He slid around him while he was distracted and attempted another pair of strikes to his back, but Ashbel managed to react in time, blocking the attack with his sword.

"Sly, huh? Why are you trying to kill me?" he asked, slowly and carefully turning around to push him away more effectively. "Is this about the White Tigers?"

"White Tigers? Do I look like scum to you?" Sly questioned, realising Ashbel was overpowering him and pushing away from him, swapping out one dagger for a set of shuriken. "Actually, don't answer that. Point is, I'm not employed by anyone at the moment."

"Then what's this all about?" Ashbel demanded, his sword lighting on fire as he prepared to plunge it into the ground. Sly, thinking quickly, tossed the shurikens one by one at him, forcing him to parry them out of the air.

"Would you believe me if I said it was nothing personal?" he asked coolly while throwing his star-shaped projectiles, stepping back with each toss. "I came here to see the Torch, but once I saw you, I figured I could spare a minute or two to have a little romp."

He then jumped backwards, doing a backflip before jumping up again, landing on one of the trees nearby. Ashbel, watching, couldn't help but chuckle, stabbing the earth beneath his feet and emitting a wide sphere of fire, melting the ice. "So you're a battle freak, too, huh?" he commented once the flames had died down. "And wouldn't you know, I'm also here for the Torch."

"Heh, a kindred spirit." Sly smirked in satisfaction, reaching out to get more weapons. "Then, winner takes all, right?"

"Hmm...if you're not a White Tiger," Ashbel smiled, switching to his bow and nocking a flame arrow into it. "Then you've got yourself a deal!"

"I'm glad to hear it!"

Ashbel made the first move, aiming his arrow upwards and firing it up at Sly. Seeing the crimson arrow, Sly leapt off the tree, jumping across to another one on Ashbel's other side. The demon followed his movement, firing arrow after arrow, but Sly kept jumping from tree to tree, eventually hiding so well that Ashbel simply couldn't see him anymore.

Knowing he'd have to go on the defensive, Ashbel drew his sword again, listening for any stray sounds, and he quickly noticed a throwing knife flying towards him from above. With a flicker of the blade, Ashbel successfully blocked it, knocking it out of the air.

What followed could only be called a hail of projectiles. Knives, stars and darts came from seemingly all directions, which Ashbel took as a testament to Sly's speed. With a thrilled smile, he scanned all the ranged weapons, and with a raised blade, he got to work. He parried them, moving more quickly than usual as the repeated clanging of metal rang through the air. Eventually, amidst the rain of projectiles, a long, weighted chain was tossed, and as Ashbel parried it, the length of the chain looped around his sword. With a sharp and sudden tug, the blade was pulled out of Ashbel's hands and into the shadows as more knives came from that direction.

He summoned a rock sword to parry with, but didn't react quickly enough as a few of the blades grazed his arm. Knowing where Sly was coming from, he charged ahead, parrying more blades until the weapons stopped. Ashbel stopped, too, looking around until he felt a pair of slashes strike him in the side. This repeated itself, with Ashbel never spotting the source until he heard faint, very light footsteps and turned around, parrying the next set of slashes. At once, he had figured it out; Sly was on the ground now.

He parried Sly's next set of attacks, trying to figure out how to decisively pin him down. When he parried his blades with his own rock-sword, he couldn't help but find his agility admirable, but also annoying. Then it hit him. He had only one shot at this, but he had to do this to nail him. He raised his sword, allowing Sly to strike him a couple more times and almost letting this throw him off, but right when the rogue was about to make one last strike, Ashbel thrust his rock-sword into the ground, enveloping himself and the area around him in a rising pillar of flame.

Once the flames died down, he chuckled, swishing his sword out to his side and looking down at Sly, who was on his knees, panting, but oddly smiling.

"Whew!" the rogue exclaimed, trying to regain his breath while Ashbel approached him, pointing his sword at him. "Still got it!"

"You surrender?" Ashbel asked, placing his free hand on his hip while moving his sword a little closer to his throat, and his question was met with a nod. "Winner takes all, right?"

https://youtu.be/ifQ3JRS4gqc

"Yep! Winner takes all." Sly nodded slowly. "Damn, you're good! It's not often I meet someone who can defend as fast as I can attack!"

"It's a natural talent." Ashbel mused, stepping back and unsummoning the blade. "You're not half-bad, yourself. In fact, I think I could use someone like you."

"Uh...come again?"

"Winner takes all."

"I can respect a worthy opponent and all, but I'm not becoming your slave." Sly frowned, only for Ashbel to chuckle, raising his hands.

"Relax, I'm just joshing you." he said. "What I'm really asking is for you to come with me."

"Huh. Now, why would you ask that?" Sly questioned, raising an eyebrow as he rose to his feet while looking Ashbel in the eye. Ashbel gave a wide, toothy grin in response.

"Well...truth is, we're not the only ones here who are after the Torch." he explained. "Remember the White Tigers?"

"Bleh, I wish I couldn't. Those guys are everywhere in the west." Sly sighed, pulling his hood down and shaking his head.

"Good, we're on the same page." Ashbel said, clearing his throat. "I'll keep it simple. They want the Torch, and I want to stop them."

"Hmm...that does sound like it could be pretty bad. A racist Torchbearer..." Sly shuddered at the thought, shaking his head.

"My thoughts exactly." Ashbel nodded, stepping forth and extending his hand towards him. "So, what do you say, Sly? Wanna help me fuck things up for them?"

"Of course. But I ask only one thing in return." Sly smiled back, grabbing his hand and shaking it. "I don't think I got your name."

"Oh, my name? It's Ashbel."

Sly nodded, and at once, the two of them released their hands only to immediately high-five one another, a sign of agreement. "Well, Ashbel, I guess this is the start of something lovely." he said. "Here's to a new alliance - to stop the White Tigers!"