Crimson Overlord-Chapter 303: Sebastian

Orpheus’ crimson gaze remained fixed on a specific point in the darkness, even after Zargon’s demise. The air crackled with a tension that transcended mere violence; it was a predator recognizing another apex hunter. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the crimson glow with an unhurried grace that mirrored Orpheus’ own.

This man was Sebastian, the leader of the Blood Hall. He was a stark contrast to the hulking brutes Orpheus had just faced. Dressed in an impeccable black suit, his black hair meticulously tied back, he looked more like a wealthy businessman than the head of a notorious assassin guild. Yet, his eyes – venomous green orbs that seemed to hold the secrets of countless deaths – betrayed his true nature.

A monocle, perched on his right eye like an aristocratic scowl, gleamed with an unnatural light in the crimson glow. A small smile, more of a smirk, played on his lips.

"Long enough to appreciate the performance," Sebastian drawled, his voice smooth as velvet laced with venom.

"An impressive display. Though," he continued, his gaze flickering to the gauntlet of darkness now inert on Orpheus’ arm, "a tad excessive for a simple information retrieval, wouldn’t you say?"

The air hung heavy with unspoken challenge. Orpheus tilted his head, his crimson gaze unwavering.

"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice a low purr.

"But then again, your little welcome party wasn’t exactly a cup of tea."

Sebastian chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.

"Touché," he admitted. "But enough pleasantries. You seek information. What is it you desire from the Blood Hall?"

Orpheus’ smile did indeed curdle the air, a promise of annihilation wrapped in amusement.

"Destruction," he declared, the word dripping with a chilling finality. "

His crimson gaze flickered over the carnage-strewn floor, a silent reminder of the assassins’ demise.

Sebastian’s facade faltered for a brief moment. His gaze, previously calculating, hardened with a flicker of genuine animosity. A barely perceptible movement, then he was gone – a blur of black vanishing into the shadows.

But Orpheus remained unfazed. He didn’t even turn his head. A hand, seemingly materializing out of thin air, snatched a gleaming object from the darkness before it could make contact – a scalpel, its edge glinting menacingly in the crimson light.

"You must do better if you wish to survive, lad," Orpheus chuckled, his voice devoid of warmth. He tossed the scalpel carelessly aside, the clatter echoing in the vast chamber.

From the shadows, Sebastian reappeared, a grimace twisting his features.

"I know!" he snapped, his voice laced with a mixture of frustration and something akin to... fear. It was a fleeting emotion, quickly replaced by a steely resolve.

"I was merely testing the waters."

Testing the waters. An interesting choice of words, considering he had just launched a surprise attack. But the truth, the one Sebastian desperately tried to mask, hung heavy in the air – a chilling realization. Despite his confident facade, despite his status as a Level 3 Origin Master, a position of immense power within the assassin world, Sebastian felt a tremor of fear in the face of Orpheus.

Shame burned hot within him. Here he was, a seasoned leader, facing a youth who looked barely out of his teens, and yet, a primal instinct screamed at him of imminent danger.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension. Orpheus tilted his head, his crimson gaze unwavering.

"Testing the waters, you say," he murmured, his voice a low growl.

"Or perhaps confirming a suspicion? That against me, your fabled assassin guild and its leader are nothing more than... minnows?"

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a challenge laced with a dangerous truth.

A primal roar erupted from Sebastian, a sound that echoed through the Blood Hall with a raw, desperate energy. Gone was the calculating leader, replaced by a cornered animal fighting for survival. You were right, Orpheus. A dangerous truth, one that ignited a firestorm within him that transcended mere tactics. Assassins might not get emotional, but even the deadliest viper lashes out when threatened with its life.

The air crackled with dark energy as Sebastian’s body blurred. He wasn’t teleporting, but manipulating the shadows themselves, turning his form partially ethereal and weaving through the darkness like a phantom. From this inky shroud, a single point of crimson materialized – a dagger imbued with a malevolent glow, aimed straight for Orpheus’ heart.

This wasn’t a test of strength, not anymore. This was a desperate gamble, a last-ditch effort fueled by a cocktail of fury and fear. Sebastian knew, deep down, that a direct confrontation was a fool’s errand. He needed to exploit the shadows, use his mastery of darkness to his advantage.

But Orpheus, ever the enigma, remained unfazed. His crimson eyes gleamed with a predatory interest as he watched Sebastian’s desperate attack unfold. He didn’t even raise a hand to defend himself.

Just as the crimson dagger pierced the air a hair’s breadth from Orpheus’ chest, a flicker of something happened. The world seemed to stutter, a single, horrifying heartbeat. Then, reality warped around Orpheus, the crimson blade passing harmlessly through an illusion.

Sebastian’s eyes widened in disbelief. His signature shadow manipulation technique, honed over years of relentless training, had failed.

A slow smile, devoid of humor, spread across Orpheus’ face.

"Minnows," he repeated, his voice a chilling whisper. He raised a single finger, and a tendril of pure darkness, identical to the gauntlet he had used earlier, pulsed into existence.

This time, it wasn’t aimed at Sebastian, but at the very shadows he was using as cover. The darkness writhed and recoiled, a living entity fighting against a superior force. Sebastian, his ethereal form flickering in and out of existence, screamed in frustration. The very element he controlled was betraying him, succumbing to the overwhelming power wielded by Orpheus.

The crimson light in the Blood Hall seemed to dim for a moment, then flare back to life with renewed intensity. The tendril of darkness retracted, and with it, the shadows themselves. They retreated from Sebastian, leaving him exposed, a lone figure bathed in the unforgiving crimson glow.

He stood there, panting, his face a mask of a fury and fear.

Klang!

The dagger clattered to the obsidian floor, a useless trinket in the face of such power. The challenge had been issued, and Sebastian, for the first time in his long and bloody career, had tasted the bitter sting of defeat.

The dance was over, he knew it but accepting was entirely another matter.