After several minutes of careful walking, the trees thinned and then abruptly ended. Klaus and Shane stepped out from the forest’s shadow into an open stretch of land, where the ground flattened, and the sky widened above them. The road ahead cut cleanly through the plain—a broad, well-maintained route of packed earth and gravel. Sparse grass clung to the edges, and the treeline sat far away, offering little cover for any ambush.

  Klaus stopped at the forest’s edge and slowly turned his head, surveying the terrain with a practised eye. No rocks large enough to hide behind. No natural bends. No elevation worth mentioning.

  “This,” he said at last, sounding almost pleased, “is a terrible ambush site.”

  Shane glanced along the road, then nodded. “Wide visibility. Clear flanks. Anyone with half a brain would avoid fighting here.”

  Klaus smirked. “Exactly. Which is why it’ll work.”

  He walked a few steps out onto the road, boots crunching softly against gravel, then paused when something caught his eye. A fist-sized stone lay half-buried near the center of the path—unremarkable, weather-smoothed, the kind no one would spare a second glance.

  Klaus crouched and placed his palm against it.

  “Trap Master.”

  The world answered.

  A massive rune circle bloomed outward from beneath his hand, swallowing the road and a wide portion of the surrounding land. Lines of arcane script etched themselves into the air and soil alike, overlapping and interlocking with frightening complexity. Normally, the runes would fade into near-invisibility the moment they formed, but this time—because of the sheer scale—they lingered as a dim, ghostly glow, as heat shimmer caught in moonlight.

  Shane instinctively took a step back, eyes narrowed as he traced the circle’s boundary. “That’s…it’s my first time seeing that.”

  Klaus didn’t look up. Sweat had already begun to bead at his temple. “First time doing it this big. Normally, small traps don’t need circles like this.”

  He worked for hours.

  Klaus moved methodically, carving invisible sigils into the ground, occasionally pausing to steady his breathing before continuing. The night thinned into dawn. Pale sunlight crept over the horizon, washing the runes until they finally faded completely, leaving nothing but ordinary earth behind.

  Shane folded his arms, watching in silence until the sun fully broke free. “You done yet?”

  Klaus gritted his teeth as he finished the last sequence. “Almost.”

  A few tense minutes later, he straightened and rolled his shoulders, then walked back toward the forest. “It’s finished. Now we wait.”

  Shane reached into his storage ring and pulled out a black cloak and a featureless mask, dark enough to drink in light. “Then we need to prepare.”

  Klaus produced an identical set and donned it without ceremony. Soon, two indistinct figures melted back into the treeline, motionless as shadows.

  Minutes stretched into hours.

  Shane finally broke the silence. “Where’s the trigger?”

  Klaus lifted a finger slightly. “That stone.”

  Shane followed the gesture, eyes resting on the unassuming rock at the edge of the road. He nodded once and said nothing more.

  Time crawled. The sun climbed higher.

  Shane checked his pocket watch. “Nine already.”

  “And still no movement,” Klaus muttered.

  “They’re not in a hurry,” Shane said. He produced a small pack of salted biscuits and offered one. “Eat.”

  Klaus accepted it with a quiet nod. “Thanks.”

  They were midway through chewing when a low rumble reached them—faint, rhythmic, unmistakable.

  Klaus froze. “That’s them.”

  Shane’s posture sharpened. “Be ready.”

  Klaus casually picked up a pebble, fingers flexing.

  Then—

  A sparrow swooped down, wings fluttering, aiming to land straight for the stone.

  Both men stiffened.

  “—Don’t—” Shane started.

  Too late.

  Klaus vanished.

  A phantom jump cracked the air as he snatched the bird mid-flight and reappeared instantly beside Shane. His afterimage lagged behind for a split second before dissolving.

  Shane stared at him. “That was reckless. You nearly blew everything.”

  Klaus raised his hand, the sparrow chirping indignantly between his fingers. “Same outcome if it landed.” He released it, and the bird shot skyward.

  They both went still.

  The convoy halted.

  Shane’s breath caught. “Did they notice?”

  “I hope not,” Klaus said carefully.

  From one of the refined wagons, a sharp woman’s voice rang out. “Why are we stopping?”

  A soldier jogged forward and bowed beside the wagon. “My lady, we spotted something ahead.”

  “Then check it,” she snapped.

  The soldier rode his horse and advanced, scanning the road. He saw nothing. No movement. No threat. Just dirt and stone.

  He returned. “My lady, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  A pause. Then, irritated, “Then move. We’re behind schedule.”

  The soldier muttered under his breath as he returned to position, signaling the convoy forward. “She causes the delay and blames everyone else…”

  The wagons rolled on.

  Klaus’s lips curled into a thin smile beneath his mask. “Showtime.”

  He lowered himself into a crouch, fingers closing around the small pebble he had picked up earlier. His gaze never left the road. He counted silently—not numbers, but rhythm. Hooves. Axles. Breaths.

  Shane stood a step behind him, posture relaxed yet alert, eyes flicking between the lead riders and the wagons that followed. His voice came low and even.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “When the vanguard crosses the midpoint… is it time?”

  Klaus didn’t answer. His shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. The pebble grew warm in his palm.

  The lead riders passed the stone.

  Then the first wagon.

  Then the second.

  Klaus exhaled.

  Without warning, he flicked his wrist.

  The pebble struck the unassuming stone with a sharp click.

  For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.

  Then the road screamed.

  A spark burst outward from the point of contact, spiderwebbing across the ground in blinding white-blue veins. The rune array—hidden, dormant, patient—ignited all at once. Lightning surged forward like a tidal wave, leaping from sigil to sigil, swallowing the convoy whole.

  Horses reared and screamed, muscles locking mid-motion as arcs of energy wrapped around them. Soldiers shouted in surprise—some mid-command, others mid-curse—before their bodies seized and collapsed where they stood. Armor rang sharply as men hit the ground, weapons clattering uselessly from numb hands.

  The air filled with the crackle of electricity and the sharp scent of ozone.

  And then—silence.

  The lightning faded as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a convoy frozen in place. Horses lay on their sides, eyes wide but alive. Soldiers sprawled across the road, jaws clenched, limbs trembling, utterly paralyzed yet painfully conscious.

  Not a single corpse.

  Klaus waited a full second longer, watching for movement. Satisfied, he straightened.

  “Let’s go.”

  Shane nodded once. They stepped out from the forest together.

  Boots crunched softly on gravel as they walked down the road, unhurried, deliberate. The soldiers could only watch—eyes tracking the two cloaked figures as if predators had stepped into a pen of trapped animals.

  One man, likely the ranking officer, strained against his own body until his face flushed red. With enormous effort, he forced words past clenched teeth.

  “W–who… are you?”

  Shane opened his mouth to answer—

  —but Klaus swept past him and bowed theatrically, cloak flaring as though caught by a nonexistent wind.

  “Ah,” Klaus said, his voice dropping into a hoarse, exaggerated rasp, “permit us to enlighten you, unfortunate souls.”

  He spread his arms wide.

  “We are the Phantom Reavers— shadows birthed from forgotten wars,

  collectors of unpaid, hunters of gilded arrogance, and silent judges of those who believe steel and gold make them untouchable. We walk unseen, strike unseen, and leave only memory behind.”

  The officer blinked. Then frowned.

  “…Never heard of you.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” Klaus replied smoothly. “We live in darkness. We feast quietly upon the oblivious.”

  Behind his mask, Shane shook his head.

  The officer swallowed. “Then… why now? Why show yourselves?”

  Klaus stepped forward and casually placed his boot on the officer’s helmet, pressing his face into the dirt.

  “To have fun.”

  The man beneath his foot let out a muffled growl, every muscle in his body screaming in defiance while refusing to obey.

  Klaus lifted his foot and gestured lazily toward the wagons. Shane understood immediately. Without a word, he moved.

  Storage rings flashed faintly as Shane opened chests and crates, his hands efficient, precise. Gold vanished. Jewelry followed. Ledgers, seals, and anything marked with insignia were discarded—anything marked can be easily traced. He worked like a man doing inventory—not a raider, but an accountant under pressure.

  Klaus, meanwhile, kept the soldiers’ attention firmly on himself.

  Then a sharp, furious voice cut through the air.

  “You bunch of carnival monkeys! You dare rob me?!”

  A wagon door slammed open.

  A woman climbed down with visible effort, boots hitting the ground heavily. She wore ornate gold armor chased with crimson inlays, a red cape hanging stiffly from her shoulders. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples as she threw off her helm in frustration, revealing a striking face twisted with rage.

  She trembled—whether from paralysis or fury, it was hard to tell.

  With a grunt, she drew a double-bladed sword, the hilt shaped like a blooming rose. She raised it with shaking arms and pointed it at Klaus.

  “I am Lorelei Wullock,” she declared, breath ragged but voice fierce. “And I swear upon my blood—will protect this treasure with my life. You will walk past my corpse before you take it.”

  Klaus turned toward her slowly, as though admiring a painting.

  He removed his foot from the officer and strolled closer.

  “How touching,” he said lightly. “If you’re offering your body so willingly, perhaps I should enjoy it before you die. It’s been a while since I tasted a woman.”

  The color drained from Lorelei’s face.

  Panic flashed across her features before she crushed it down, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. She forced her feet forward, each step heavy and unsteady.

  “I’ll kill you,” she hissed.

  She swung.

  Her blade passed cleanly through Klaus’s chest.

  —or rather, through the afterimage he left behind.

  “W–what—”

  Klaus was suddenly behind her. One arm slipped around her waist with unsettling gentleness, pulling her back against him.

  Lorelei gasped, panic surging full force.

  “What are you—!”

  Her words cut off as Klaus pressed a cloth to her face.

  The scent hit her instantly—sweet, heavy, irresistible.

  Her free hand clawed weakly at his arm. Her vision blurred. Tears welled up as hatred gave way to despair… and then to resignation.

  So this is how it ends, she thought bitterly.

  Darkness claimed her.

  Klaus lifted her easily and carried her back toward the wagon. Soldiers watched helplessly, eyes burning with fury and shame. One man forced words through clenched teeth, swearing vengeance unto the end of the world.

  Klaus ignored him.

  He laid Lorelei gently on a bench inside the wagon, adjusting her cape so it covered her properly. Then he stepped back out.

  He glanced at Shane.

  “Ten minutes. No more.”

  Shane nodded, already finishing up. One final wagon—clearly the treasure carriage—yielded its contents quickly. Gold and gems vanished into his ring. Then his hand paused over a smaller chest.

  Inside lay a cube-like puzzle, etched with unfamiliar symbols.

  Shane frowned.

  He pocketed the cube instead of storing it away.

  Six minutes later, they were done.

  Shane slipped into the forest without a sound.

  Klaus lingered a moment longer. He turned back to the paralyzed soldiers and gave them a casual wave.

  “Remember our name. We might meet again.”

  Then he vanished like smoke.

  Minutes passed.

  Slowly, painfully, feeling returned to numb limbs. Soldiers groaned and pushed themselves upright. Confusion and anger rippled through the convoy.

  Inside the wagon, Lorelei stirred.

  She bolted upright, breath hitching, hands flying over her body. Armor intact. Clothes untouched.

  Nothing happened.

  Relief flooded her—followed immediately by a sharp sting to her pride.

  She clenched her jaw.

  “…Am I not that attractive?”

  ***

  Out of the woods—dozens of mountains away from the ruined convoy—the two figures finally slowed.

  The forest here was thinner, the trees shorter and wind-bent, their leaves whispering sharply as if gossiping about what had just passed through. Klaus and Shane stumbled into a narrow clearing between jagged rocks, boots skidding on loose gravel. Both of them bent forward, hands on their knees, breath coming out in harsh, uneven pulls.

  For a long moment, neither spoke.

  Shane straightened first, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his glove. His usually composed posture wavered just a little as he exhaled.

  “…We ran,” he said dryly, “for an hour straight.”

  Klaus dropped onto a flat stone, sprawling on his back like a man sunbathing instead of fleeing a crime scene. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but his tone remained infuriatingly relaxed.

  “Mm. Good exercise. Keeps the joints young.”

  Shane shot him a look. “I almost tripped back there.”

  “Almost,” Klaus echoed. “Yet here you are. Alive.”

  Shane huffed and leaned against a tree, eyes scanning the treeline out of habit. Only when he was satisfied that nothing followed did he relax his shoulders.

  “Do you think they’ll chase us?”

  Klaus tilted his head, watching a bird flutter nervously from branch to branch above them.

  “Unlikely. Half of them are still trying to remember how their legs work.” He closed his eyes briefly. “And their pride will keep them busy yelling at each other for a while.”

  “That woman,” Shane muttered. “Wullock blood runs hot.”

  “She’ll live,” Klaus replied lightly. “And hate me forever. I’ve been collecting that sort of thing.”

  Shane reached into his pocket and pulled out the small cube he’d taken from the chest. He weighed it in his palm before tossing it toward Klaus.

  “Then explain this.”

  Klaus caught it lazily with one hand and sat up. The cube was cool to the touch, its surface etched with angular symbols that didn’t belong to any modern script. They shifted subtly when viewed from different angles, as if resisting being understood.

  Klaus frowned—just a little.

  “…Ancient,” he murmured. He rotated it once, then twice. “But not anything I recognize.”

  Shane crossed his arms. “That’s not reassuring.”

  Klaus tossed it back. “If I don’t know it, it’s either very valuable or very dangerous.”

  Shane smirked faintly. “Why not both?”

  Before Klaus could respond, Shane began fiddling with the cube, turning sections experimentally, like a curious child with a puzzle toy. There was a soft click.

  Both men froze.

  The cube pulsed once—then began to glow from within, a deep, ominous blue seeping through its seams.

  “…Shane,” Klaus said slowly, already shifting his weight.

  Shane’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to—”

  The glow intensified.

  Shane yelped and instinctively hurled the cube away.

  “WHY IS IT GLOWING—”

  Klaus moved.

  In one fluid motion, he grabbed Shane by the collar and vanished.

  Phantom Jump.

  Reality folded.

  They reappeared in a blur—hundreds of meters away—landing hard on a thick tree branch that groaned under their combined weight. Leaves exploded around them as Klaus slammed a hand into the trunk to keep them from falling.

  For half a heartbeat, it worked.

  Then the world behind them turned white.

  The explosion bloomed like a second sun, far larger than it should have been. Light and force tore through the forest, racing across the distance as if space itself meant nothing. The shockwave caught them mid-breath.

  The tree shattered.

  The light swallowed everything.

  Including both men.