Chapter 64: Bait

Kael had wedged himself low behind the counter’s edge, one knee on the floor, back pressed against the cheap wood paneling as he watched the events unfold.

“Well, I guess time’s up,” Baltak said as he noticed Kael taking cover behind one of the counters, trying his best not to be spotted.

The imp’s voice was light, almost conversational, like he was calling last orders at a bar instead of watching a fight break out right outside his store.

The neon glow above flickered, stuttering like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to stay on and profit or turn off and survive.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Kael asked. His eyes snapped up, not fully understanding why Baltak sounded so… final.

He could still hear shouts outside, the scrape of boots on pavement, the harsh clack of stone against metal. The store had felt like neutral ground. Felt like it.

The imp’s face turned feral, “It’s night time!” His expression twisted in one heartbeat, merchant to monster, smile to snarl, like something inside him had been waiting for an excuse.

And immediately some unseen force simply moved Kael from where he crouched to the outside of the store. It wasn’t a shove. It was a command issued to reality.

One second he was tucked behind the counter with his crowbar clenched, the next the world yanked him by the spine and spat him out onto the street like he’d been thrown from a moving car. His boots skidded on grit as he caught himself, shoulder slamming into cold air and sudden darkness.

The neon lights went dim and the store locked behind him. A hard click echoed through the street, followed by the heavy, final sound of metal shutters sealing.

The glow that had painted the sidewalk evaporated, leaving Kael standing under a sky that suddenly looked much darker than it had a second ago, like the Tower had pulled a veil over the city. The convenience store didn’t look welcoming anymore. It looked like a bunker that had just decided he was on the wrong side of the door.

The howling of beasts echoed once more. It came from far away at first, a chorus of hungry sound bouncing between ruined buildings, then closer, layering into something that made the hair on Kael’s arms rise.

Night in this place wasn’t just darker. Night had voices. Night had teeth. And Night was death.

“See, I told you he’s one of them!” one of the two guys from the Sun Clan shouted. The accusation cracked across the street, sharp with panic and anger, and Kael’s head snapped toward the voices. He was being framed before he even had his footing.

Kael only recognized one by name, it was Peter, he looked stunned. Peter’s face was pale in the failing light, eyes wide as if he was watching the math of the fight change in real time. Seeing their enemies which were three, turn to four meant that they would probably die here. Kael could read it in Peter’s posture, the slight recoil, the instinctive shift of weight as if he was already searching for escape routes.

Nobody liked sudden reinforcements. Nobody liked the universe adding a wild card.

“Who the fuck is this motherfucker?” One of the Snakes asked.

The voice was rough and amused, the kind of tone that enjoyed chaos. Kael saw them now: three figures, weapons in hand, stone and crude metal glinting faintly. Their stance was too relaxed for men who feared consequences.

Kael didn’t hesitate to bring his crowbar forward. He let the metal rise into view like a line being drawn.

“Want to find out?” The question was a threat and an answer. His voice came out steadier than he felt, and he hated that the steadiness had to come from adrenaline and exhaustion instead of confidence.

Peter looked at the situation, “He’s not with them, he really did come to get healed up, look at his injuries they’re all gone.” Peter’s words came fast, almost pleading.

Kael could hear the fear under the attempt at logic: if Kael was an enemy, their situation was already dead. If Kael was neutral, maybe, maybe, they had a chance.

“Oh, Kale, help us out, these motherfuckers want to fight!” Peter’s shout cracked at the end. There was a childish unfairness to it, help us, because we’re in trouble, and Kael almost laughed, because he’d just been thrown out into the night like garbage and somehow he was still being assigned responsibility.

The three Snakes turned to Kael at the same time. He was closer, and looked less threatening with a crowbar in hand while they had stone weapons and some crude metallic ones.

Their eyes didn’t just look at him, they sized him up. They noted the crowbar, the soot-stained clothes, the way he held his weapon like someone who knew how to swing a tool. Kael could practically see the gears turning behind their faces.

The three of them immediately seemed to pass along what felt like a message with mere nods. No words. Just a quick exchange of intention. Kael’s stomach tightened; men who communicated like that weren’t amateurs.

“Keep them occupied! We’ll go bring back reinforcements!” the person next to Peter said as he dragged Peter away. It happened fast and ugly. A hand grabbed Peter’s arm, yanked him backward, and Peter stumbled, caught between shock and anger.

“The fuck, we gotta help him!” Peter barked, twisting as if he could physically pull himself back into the fight on sheer stubbornness alone.

“We’ll get caught like this! Let’s move! The boss will know what to do!” the other man hissed, and he wasn’t wrong. Night was falling. Monsters were waking. Staying in the open meant becoming a beacon. He hauled Peter harder, and Peter, for all his guilt, didn’t fight the pull long.

Peter looked at Kael, hesitated, and then ran back. He looked ’guilty’ and sorry, but he couldn’t waste time in the dark; the monsters would come out very soon.

The look lingered a beat too long, an apology without words, then he turned and ran, boots pounding away into the ruin. Leaving Kael facing three snakes. Armed with nothing but a metal tool.

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