NOVEL NEXT Chapter 281: On the Hunt
Xavier waited outside the academy gates, leaning against his bike as the final bell rang. Students poured out in packs — laughing, shouting, waving their dumb goodbyes. He stayed quiet, just watching. His eyes trailed over faces he knew, some he didn't care about, and then finally caught sight of Oliver walking off to his van. Oliver didn't even notice him. He just hopped into his van and drove away.
Xavier didn't move. He kept waiting. A few more minutes passed before he saw the one he was really here for — Kael, Mira's boyfriend. The guy walked out with that fake chill confidence, earbuds in, bag slung loose.
He waited until Kael reached the end of the block before swinging a leg over the bike and rolling after him, keeping the distance clean.
Once they were far from the main road, Xavier throttled up, cutting through the narrow lane and stopping right in front of Kael's path. The tires screeched. Kael froze, blinking at the black helmet and the silent figure on the bike. When Xavier lifted the visor, Kael's face drained of color.
The second Kael saw his face, his confidence cracked — fear flashed all over him. He stammered something but couldn't get it out.
Without a word, Kael took a step back, then another, before bolting. Xavier revved the engine once, amused. "You sure you wanna do that?" he said, voice carrying across the empty street. "I'm on a damn bike, Kael. I'll catch you in two turns flat."
But Kael didn't listen. He sprinted into the alleys, darting over fences, vaulting through gaps, sliding across trash cans like he'd done it a hundred times before. Xavier turned the bike sharply, trying to keep up, but the tight corners worked against him. He rode around a block, circled through, and by the time he reached the other side—Kael was gone. Just gone.
Xavier exhaled, glancing around the maze of alleys. The place reeked of rust and damp concrete. He clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath, "Guess the bastard knows these streets better than I do."
Xavier killed the engine and jumped off the bike, boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. He scanned the alley — no sign of Kael. Just echoes, walls, and the faint rattle of a loose pipe somewhere. The bastard was fast, but Xavier wasn't about to give up that easy. He spotted a narrow metal staircase and climbed, taking two steps at a time. The structure groaned under his weight, rust flakes falling off every time his boots hit metal.
He pulled himself onto a vent and hoisted up to the roof, breathing steady, eyes scanning every corner of the block. From up there, the city looked messy — tangled roofs, cables, flickering lights, and a few stray cats jumping across the gaps. Xavier ran, leaping from one building to the next, landing hard enough to shake dust off the old concrete. His gaze darted across every alley and open space below, but Kael was gone — completely vanished into the night.
He stopped on the edge of a building and exhaled sharply. "Tch… I'll get you some other day," he muttered under his breath.
He looked around for a way down. The vents and pipes he used earlier were barely holding together, rusted and shaking in the wind.
'No way I can trust those again.'
Then his eyes caught something — a cracked window and an open balcony a few meters away, part of what looked like an abandoned factory or base. He smirked, stepped back, and sprinted before jumping off the roof. His boots hit the balcony rail hard, and he rolled inside, landing in a cloud of dust.
The place was dead quiet — old machinery, broken crates, the smell of oil and damp walls. He could see faint light leaking in through the cracks of metal shutters downstairs. Carefully, he started climbing down, boots tapping against broken steel beams.
Then — a faint sound. A shift of air.
SHHPSH!
Xavier turned just in time to see something slice through the dark — a sword. He jerked his body back, the blade grazing past his jacket.
A figure stepped out from the shadows, silent, dressed head-to-toe in black. The cloth blended with the dark so well it was hard to tell where the man started and the shadows ended. He had a sword in one hand, another strapped to his back, and a belt lined with smaller blades and gear that glinted under the dim light.
Xavier narrowed his eyes, his pulse steady but his instincts alert. "The hell are you supposed to be?" he muttered.
The figure didn't waste time talking. He lunged, blade flashing through the dark. Xavier twisted sideways, barely ducking under the first swing. The air split with a hiss — another slash came from the left, then from above. Xavier kept dodging, his movements tight and controlled, feet scraping against the dusty floor.
The clang of steel echoed every time the sword hit metal instead of flesh. Sparks flared off a broken pipe when the figure's blade struck it. Xavier weaved between each strike, eyes narrowing, studying the attacks — the way the man's shoulder tilted before a swing, the split-second delay between steps, and the pattern in his breathing.
Xavier wasn't attacking yet. He was just learning and memorizing.
The figure moved like a shadow — no wasted motion, no hesitation. The darkness favored him. Xavier could barely keep track of his outline as he faded in and out between the broken machines and hanging chains. A slash nicked Xavier's sleeve, another nearly grazed his neck.
"Tch." Xavier clicked his tongue, grabbed a piece of metal pipe from the floor, and hurled it toward a cracked vent window. The pipe smashed through it with a loud crash. Moonlight spilled into the room, cutting through the dark and painting everything in cold silver.
Now Xavier could see better — his opponent's stance, the flow of his attacks, the tension in his arms. The guy was good, but Xavier was better.
Xavier spat on the ground and beckoned to the figure.
"Come to Papa."