Chapter 450: Time For Hunting

As the moon hung high in the midnight sky above Ilis, Serah stood at the very top of the grand cathedral, her figure framed by the silver glow of starlight. The city stretched out silently beneath her, streets and spires bathed in pale illumination. Yet her gaze remained steady on the horizon, her patience thinning with every passing moment.

“Where is he?” she muttered under her breath, irritation tugging at her calm exterior.

For several moments there was nothing but the whisper of the wind. Then, a faint rustle of movement came from just below the ledge. Her crimson eyes narrowed, hand immediately falling to the hilt of her sheathed blade. She tightened her grip as the sound drew closer, every sense sharpened.

Before she could strike, a fingerless gloved hand latched onto the edge of the stone, followed by another. A grunt of effort, and then Marcus’s familiar face appeared as he hauled himself up onto the ledge.

The princess froze, still in her defensive posture, while Marcus blinked up at her, half-dangling from the ledge with his usual grin.

“Damn,” he said, catching his breath. “You have such a way of welcoming me. Very classic. Love the whole ’ready-to-slice-me-in-half’ vibe.” He winked, finger-gunned her, and nearly lost his balance in the process. “Whoa—okay, almost died there.”

He scrambled fully onto the rooftop at last, both boots finding solid ground.

“What kept you?” Serah asked bluntly, lowering her hand from her sword but her voice sharp with annoyance.

“Woah, woah.” Marcus put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “No ’good to see you again’? No hug for still being alive? Princess, you really need to work on your hospitality.”

Serah rolled her eyes with a sigh. “I might’ve considered it if you’d shown up on time.”

“I see.” Marcus leaned casually against the stone ledge, smirking. “Well, can’t blame me.”

“And why not?”

“Because you just can’t.” He folded his arms with exaggerated childish stubbornness.

Serah gave him a flat look, then sighed again. “Fine. Anyway, here’s your comm-rune, as promised.” She tossed him the bracelet Brenna had crafted.

He snatched it out of the air with ease, holding it up to inspect. “Hmm… not bad,” he hummed, turning it in his hand.

“I’ve already placed my contact runes in it,” Serah explained smoothly. “You can add more if you wish.”

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. “Add more? Why would I do that? Your contact’s the only one that matters to me, Princess.”

Her breath hitched before she could stop it. Her eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to her cheeks. She turned her gaze away quickly, masking the flush, but Marcus had already seen enough to grin like a devil.

“It’s your comm-rune,” she said quickly, clearing her throat. “You can use it however you like.”

He smirked wider, then fastened the bracelet onto his right wrist.

Serah tilted her head. “You’re left-handed?”

“Yeah. Why?” he asked, caught off guard by the question.

“Just curious. Most would wear it on their dominant hand.”

Marcus shrugged. “Meh. Details.” Then he glanced at her with genuine confusion. “So, uh… how does this thing even work?”

Serah blinked. “Wait—are you serious?”

“Yeah. Don’t know a damn thing about these toys.”

She exhaled a deep sigh, walking toward him and sitting beside him on the ledge. “Give me your wrist,” she said firmly.

He obediently held it out. The moment her fingers wrapped around his hand, she felt the cold, rough texture of his palm through the glove. She tapped the rune, and a faint projection flickered to life, a miniature screen glowing above the bracelet.

“Double tap here,” she instructed. “That opens your contacts. From there, you can see or call anyone linked to your rune.”

Marcus squinted, nose scrunching. “Damn, that screen’s tiny. How am I supposed to see anything?”

“Use Myst to enhance your sight,” Serah replied simply.

He stared at it longer, then scoffed. “Such a pain. But thanks for the tutorial, I guess.” His smirk returned as his eyes flicked from the screen to her hand still holding his. “So uh… think you can let go now, Princess? Unless you’re planning to hold me hostage.”

Serah looked down, realizing she was still gripping him. Embarrassment struck like lightning, and she released him immediately, trying to compose herself.

“Heh.” Marcus chuckled, clearly enjoying her fluster. “Anyway, I should get going.” He shifted into a crouch, preparing himself.

“Guess I’ll see you in a month or two,” he said, standing tall against the moonlight. “Stay safe for me, Princess. I wouldn’t want this to be our last meeting.”

Serah arched a brow. “Me? I should be the one saying that. You’re the reckless one.”

“Aww, so what you’re saying is—I should stay safe for you?” Marcus teased, tapping his chest. “Alright then, cross my heart. For you, Princess.”

Serah’s cheeks betrayed her again, though her voice stayed firm. “Just shut up and get on with your demon hunting already, dummy.”

He grinned wide, backing up to the ledge. “Byeee~”

And with that, Marcus leaned back and dropped into freefall, vanishing into the shadows below.

Serah rushed to the edge, heart racing, only to see nothing but the glittering lights of Ilis stretching below, again. She lingered there, her lips curving faintly despite herself.

“That bastard better not die.” She muttered softly, before stepping back into the shadows of the cathedral roof.

***

Later into the day, as the bustling city of Ilis stirred to life, Marcus found himself perched atop the roof of a warehouse, a crumpled wrap of food in his hands. He sat cross-legged, chewing lazily while keeping his eyes trained on a small, rather nondescript apartment across the street. The morning sunlight spilled warmly over the rooftops, glinting against the tiled eaves, and for a moment, Marcus looked almost at peace.

“This is the one,” he muttered between bites. “If I’m right, this place’ll bring me a step closer to that Pureblood bastard that robbed me.”

He leaned back on one arm, raising the other to shield his face from the glare of the sun. The food was simple, street-seller stuff, but he tore into it like it was a feast fit for kings. For Marcus, moments like these were rare. It wasn’t every day that a dark mage could lounge around in the very capital of the kingdom, basking openly in daylight. Dangerous? Of course. But exhilarating all the same. And for Marcus, this wasn’t even his first or second time pulling it off—more like his fifth or sixth. He had a knack for surviving in places he wasn’t supposed to.

He exhaled contentedly, watching the bright blue sky above as strands of his dark hair fell loose, framing his face. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“This is some damn good air to inhale,” he said with a chuckle. He turned his head slightly. “Right, Raven?”

A large, jet-black raven was perched on a wooden frame just beside him, its feathers glossy and beady eyes sharp as glass. The bird blinked once at him, gave a short, unimpressed caw, and promptly turned its head away as though Marcus weren’t even worth acknowledging.

Marcus raised his brows. “Oh, so we’re doing the silent treatment now, huh?”

The raven ruffled its feathers and muttered in a gravelly voice that carried a strange, almost mocking tone, “Idiot.”

Marcus let out a laugh, nearly choking on his food. “Idiot? That’s rich coming from a bird that once tried to eat a shiny button thinking it was food.”

The raven snapped its beak in annoyance, turning to face him with a glare. “Distraction.”

Marcus wiped his mouth with the back of his glove, grinning. “Ahh, now we’re getting somewhere. Let me guess… this is about Serah again, isn’t it?”

The raven gave a low squawk, almost as if to deny it, but then tilted its head with such exaggerated disdain that Marcus laughed even harder.

“Oh come on, don’t be jealous,” Marcus teased, leaning closer. “She’s not replacing you. You’re my number one feathery pain in the ass, and no princess is gonna change that.”

“Liar,” the raven snapped sharply, fluttering its wings with irritation.

Marcus pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Me? Lying? To you? Never. I’ve known you longer than she has! Besides, Serah doesn’t sit around judging my food choices or calling me an idiot every morning.”

“Better,” the raven retorted smugly.

Marcus barked a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible. If you had hands, I swear you’d be throwing things at me right now.”

The raven gave another caw, hopping a bit closer, but still refused to meet Marcus’s eyes, as if sulking in full display. Marcus reached out and gave the bird a quick pat on its sleek head. “Relax, alright? You’re still my partner. No one’s taking your spot.”

The raven clicked its beak, muttering one final insult under its breath: “Idiot.”

Marcus smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too, featherbrain.”

He finished the last bite of his wrap, licking his fingers clean as his gaze sharpened on the apartment across the street. Just then, two men slipped into the building, moving with a purpose that instantly put Marcus on alert. His grin returned, wide and dangerous.

“Well, what do you know,” Marcus murmured. He patted the raven again and rose to his feet, dusting crumbs off his trousers. “Guess it’s time to get to work.”

The raven flapped its wings, suddenly alert as well, while Marcus adjusted his gloves and stretched out his arms. “Alright, Raven. Playtime’s over. Time to go hunting.”

With that, he leapt gracefully from the warehouse roof, dropping into the shadows below as if the city itself had opened its arms to swallow him whole.

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