The Shadows Lengthen

by Super Saiyan D

空

==================
6:45 AM
Hayseed Swamp
==================

As the first glimmers of dawn breached the eastern horizon, Hayseed Swamp emerged slowly from the veil of night. The air hung heavy with humidity, carrying the scent of decaying vegetation and damp earth. Mist clung to the surface of the swamp and drifted along the ground, obscuring the boundaries between land and water, hanging stubbornly over the land like a shroud.

Amidst the thick foliage, the sounds of life teemed from all directions. Soft, indiscriminate chirps resonated through the air, avian voices heralding the arrival of a new day. Rustling leaves whispered secrets, their hushed conversations carried by a gentle breeze. Creaking of twigs under unseen weight echoed like distant footsteps, hinting at the presence of hidden creatures lurking in the shadows. Eyes, glimmering like tiny lanterns, peered out from the undergrowth. Some were luminescent, reflecting the light with an eerie glow, while others remained shrouded in darkness, their intentions concealed. Movements, swift and stealthy, played out upon the land and in the murky depths. The surface of the water rippled, disturbed by the unseen passage of creatures whose form remained a mystery.

The interplay of light and shadow painted a surreal tableau upon the landscape. Ancient cypress trees, their roots submerged in murky waters and penetrating through even older rocks, stood like sentinels, their branches reaching skyward.

In the hushed daybreak, a lone four-legged figure wove her way around gnarled roots and turbid waters. Her name was Cerise Valley. Reconnaissance Specialist of the 55th Inquisitor Battalion, and a member of the renowned Hunter Squad. She wore the standard golden trappings and single longsword of the Royal Guard. Her gilded armor glinted in the sparse light, the beacon of authority a stark contrast against the backdrop of the marsh. The polished metal of her crupper, greaves and peytral repeatedly snagged on the overgrown foliage and dense, muddy undergrowth. The armor, a mark of her rank and beacon of authority, felt out of place, almost alien, in the unrefined wilds of the swamp.

Cerise herself was less than thrilled to be navigating through such a forsaken place. The muck staining her hooves and springbud green coat, the thick, obscuring fog, and the chilling whispers of unseen creatures all combined to make Hayseed Swamp a locale she’d rather not traverse. But being a quality Royal Guard—least of all an Inquisitor—demanded getting out of one’s comfort zone. All Inquisitors were hoof-picked from best-performing members of the Royal Guard divisions. They were the cream of the crop. And Hunter Squad were among the best when it came to tracking down wrongdoers in Equestria.

And so Cerise hunted. Her face was stern, her amber eyes focused on the path ahead. Her horn glowed, casting a funnel of green light on the ground in front of her. Her spell revealed in almost infrared the image of multiple sets of pony tracks trailing through the swamp. Then a voice issued through the magic communication spell integrated into her helmet.

“Cerise, do you copy?” came a male voice in her helm, its tone light and teasing despite the seriousness of their mission.

The mare’s ear twitched. It was her newer squadmate Zigzag, codename Zipper. Her nostrils flared. “Call signs only in the field, Zipper,” she whispered with a scolding emphasis. “But yeah, I copy.”

“Oh, relax,” Zigzag said breezily. “When was the last time you heard of anypony’s comms getting intercepted? Especially way out here in the sticks. Anyway, progress report?”

“Still tracking through this Celestia-foresaken bog,” Cerise responded, her voice a hushed murmur, trying not to disturb the unsettling quiet of the swamp. For what felt like the tenth she had to shake her pink mane loose from a snagging branch. “The trail we picked up south of Horseshoe Bay is at least a week old, but definitely matches the number from the report on those missing mares.”

Zigzag chuckled, the sound echoing in her ear. “Just don’t go disappearing yourself, okay?”

“Worried about me, Zippy?” she teased back, a small smirk playing on her lips. It probably broke protocol when in the field, but the banter was a welcome distraction from the grim task at hoof and the unnerving surroundings. “Think a scary swamp ghost is gonna come steal me away?”

“Me? Worried? Nah. Buuuut, now that you mention it, I’d love to steal you away for some dinner on Horseshoe Bay when this is over. You wanna?”

Cerise snorted to herself, amused. “I might.”

“Sweet.” Zigzag's “Any chance I’ll get a little more familiar with the other rosebud?”

The double entendre actually made Cerise grin. “You might.”

Another, older male voice suddenly spoke through the shared comm spell. The speaker did not sound amused. “Zipper, Rosebud, knock it off and stay focused. Nopony wants to listen to you two scheduling your roll in the hay.”

“Oh, thank Celestia…” There came the murmur of a white-coated pegasus stallion emerging from somewhere behind Cerise: Cardinal Sark, codename Sentinel. The look on his face was that of a pony wishing he’d been born deaf.

Cerise had the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, Seeker.” Clearing her throat, she stepped over the large root of another tree, hopped down from a short drop, continuing along through a puddle as she followed the path of magically-highlighted tracks. “Looks like the whole group was moving together. Whoever’s behind this must have taken them through the swamp to try and throw off the trail. But I’m only seeing hoofprints…”

Suddenly, Cerise stiffened. “Wait, I’ve got something else.” She leaned down to the muddy ground to inspect the trail closer. Something new had appeared alongside the hoofprints. Something unfamiliar. “New set of tracks. Three-toed, two front claws. And much bigger. Definitely not pony.”

“What does that mean?” Zigzag asked through the comm.

“It means everypony should get over here and set up a perimeter,” said Cerise. “We need to check this out in more detail. Husky, what’s the view from up top?” When the expected reply from the team’s lookout Light Heart didn’t come, she frowned and called for the pegasus stallion again. “Husky, come in.” Still, nothing. “What the… Is this spell on the fritz or something?”

“We hear you loud and clear, Rosebud,” Lamellar answered.

Cerise could hear her own the puzzled concern matched in the sergeant’s voice. “Sentinel, get airborne and swing around. See where he flew off too.” Again, there was silence. “Sentinel, did you hear—” Cerise turned around and froze. Cardinal, who hadn’t been more than ten feet behind her a moment ago, was gone. Only the clouds of mist greeted her.

“What the hell is going on?” Suddenly defensive, Cerise dropped her tracing spell, her green magic aura now taking a grip on her sword hilt. She swung her eyes back and forth across her surroundings, but saw nothing. Only swamp and fog lay around her.

By sheer happenstance, she glanced past the settled puddle she’d stepped through moments ago, and saw a flash of darkness dropping down from behind. With a startled whirl, she drew her sword with her magic. It never fully left the sheath before a cloaked figure crashed down onto her. Cerise was knocked to the ground, the force sending her helmet tumbling away. A set of hooves pinned her to the ground with the full weight of a body. Terrible pain ripped her as a blade stabbed into her side. Her scream only lasted half a second as a gloved hoof crushed down on her snout.

Through her agony, her eyes moved to view her attacker. The black cloak of the figure that stood over her seemed to swallow nearly all of the assailant’s frame. She could only clearly see two things: the foreleg that ground her face into the muck, armored and almost as dark. Its face was covered by a mask.

And it was nothing short of terrifying. It was white like the purest snow of the Frozen North. Four red horns jutted from the upper and the lower edges of the face, and an longer white one curved out from the top of its head. The red lips of its wide, demonic grin were filled with sharp teeth, the pair of fangs in the top row protruding out and curving sideways. The top and bottom pairs of fangs curved sideways. And sunken into a horizontal black streak were red eyes that seemed to glow ominously, piercing through Cerise’s very soul.

“Cerise!”

The figure’s head lifted. It looked over its shoulder and beheld a young pegasus stallion with a dark brown coat and shaded blonde mane. His sword was already in hoof, his face a mask of anger.

Around Zigzag began to arrive the other members of Hunter Squad.

Geo Firma: a young unicorn stallion, brown coat and black mane, armed with a single-hoofed broadsword. His brown eyes were steady and focused.

Lithium Spark: an forty-something unicorn mare. Her coat was lavender, her mane malachite green, and her eyes bright blue. On her side hung a chain whip that ended in the thin, deadly point of a spearhead.

Burst Strike: a towering Earth pony with a grayish arctic blue coat and pale gamboge hair. His helm featured a visor that shielded every part of his face save his eyes, and chainmail covered his frame below the neck. Held aloft in his hoof was a spear wrapped in blue cloth. Its heel and head glinted in the dim light, the latter wider and heavier than that of Lithium’s weapon.

Anelace: the youngest of the team. The unicorn mare’s mane and coat were varying shades of fuschia, her eyes an emerald green. Her grip around her drawn standard-issue sword was tight. She gazed at the cloaked enemy with undisguised wariness.

And Sergeant Lamellar: the group’s commanding officer, marked by the blue and white cloth and red markings added to his armor. He was a gray-coated stallion with dusty orange hair and faint blue eyes. On his hip hung the red scabbard of a custom longsword. A horizontal scar crossed his neck, a mark of some past battle.

The phantom lifted its hoof from Cerise’s face and turned to face them. It raised one foreleg to strip off and toss away its cloak. It wore a dark outfit of alien design. All four of its legs sported gauntlets. More dark-colored cloth wrapped around its neck to form a strange mix between a scarf and hood from which its beastly mask stared out of. With calculated steadiness it reached to gripped the hilt of the blade hanging at its side. Three feet of curved steel slowly slid from the sheath, its song a frigid hiss.

Lamellar recognized the weapon as a katana. As if seeing the dark figure with new eyes, his face filled with quiet dread. “It couldn’t be...”

“We’ve got to get word back to Canterlot!” Burst Strike said urgently, his eyes never leaving their mysterious enemy.

“There’s no time,” Lamellar answered resolutely. “We’ll have to deal with this ourselves.” He drew his longsword from its sheath. “Everypony stay focused and get ready.”

Even as she pulled her own sword free, Anelace looked no more confident. She heard Lamellar softly whisper to her, “Stay close to me,” as if sensing her anxiety. She swallowed, stepping in at his side.

There was a pained sound as Cerise cringed underneath the monstrous avatar. She looked to her teammates with desperation, futilely trying to squirm free.

Zigzag took a heated step forward. “Let her go!”

The figure merely stood like a statue. Any sign of acknowledgement was hidden beneath its mask. Then it flipped its own sword into a reverse grip, holding the curved blade parallel in front of its body as if offering it for inspection.

“I said let her go!” Zigzag shouted again, his sword shaking from barely-restrained fury.

The masked face turned towards him, soulless red eyes staring through the young Inquisitor. The figure’s answer was to raise its weapon and bring it swiftly down. The last thing Cerise heard, as cold steel skewered the crown of her head and pierced through her chin into the dirt, was Zigzag’s anguished scream.

“NOOOOO!” Blind with rage, Zigzag charged like a bull, Lamellar’s shout ordering him back falling on deaf ears.

The specter let him come. A strange, crimson aura began to surge from the deceased Cerise’s head. Thin ropes of blood slid up the embedded blade. The katana started to glow; a chilling red, pulsating like a beating heart.

When Zigzag was within range, the assassin wrenched the sword free and held it high. Red energy born of Cerise’s own blood coursed through the blade, infusing it with power and extending its length. Fifteen feet of blood mist blade swung downward, rending Zigzag’s entire body with a diagonal cut. He hit the ground in two pieces.

The phantom stood to two legs and took a two-hoofed grip on its weapon, the blade dipping to point at the Inquisitors. And then it was suddenly in motion, flying towards the guards with terrific speed, the lance of bloody mist driving straight for Lamellar’s heart.

It was stopped by the sky blue wall of Lithium’s magic, thrown up just in time to save the sergeant’s life. An instant later, the ground to either side of the assassin rumbled in tandem with a spell cast by Geo, and two columns of rock sprang from the ground towards it. The phantom sprang backwards to dodge the first, jumped over the second, then used the rock mass as a springboard to backflip through the air and land gracefully.

By the time it hit the ground, the Inquisitors were charging, Burst and Geo’s battle cries echoing across the bog. Geo got to the assailant first, his broadsword swinging in a downward arc to split their enemy’s head in two. The shade parried the strike, then sidestepped a slamming vertical blow from Burst Strike’s spear. A follow-up thrust aimed for the figure’s chest found only met empty air. Weaving around the pair, the assassin went straight for Anelace.

Lamellar put himself between the young mare and their attacker, holding his longsword in a defensive posture. Blades flashed, clashing and clanging, the sergeant warding off the ghost’s lethally quick strikes and countering with ripostes of his own. The specter deflected the strikes, then backflipped over the head of Anelace who was circling around it for an attack of her own. Lamellar’s upraised blade suddenly stopped, the young mare now directly his path.

Surprised by their foe’s continued shows of athleticism, Anelace spun around and swung a wild horizontal cut at her opponent’s neck. The assassin blocked it, shunting her sword aside and twisting to throw a back kick that knocked the inexperienced mare into Lamellar.

“Seeker, Bloom, get clear!” The call came from Lithium, telekinetically spinning her chain whip in a circle above her head. As soon as Lamellar and Anelace made space, it lashed out in a long arc that the dark warrior barely managed to dodge. When the phantom tried to close the distance, Lithium simply made the chain twirl, its long reach keeping the assailant at bay. It hesitated, and Lithium used her magic to send the weapon’s spear point lunging out like a snake. Strike after strike drove the masked killer back.

When Lithium’s chain lashed out again, this time it stopped mid-strike. Lithium jolted in surprise as she felt, through her magic, her hold on the weapon grabbed by some other force. She stared at the figure’s masked face, incomprehension flashing across her own. There was no colored glow, no opposing aura around her weapon signifying magic. But when the specter swung its head in a jerking motion, her chain spear was almost pulled from her grip.

The mental tug of war was interrupted as the other Inquisitors rallied and came in at their foe’s right flank. Geo cast his spell to send another eruption of spiked rock towards the killer’s left, which it again had to dart away from, the spikes tearing scrapes its outfit as the attack almost hit its mark.

As it seemed the Inquisitors would overwhelm their foe, the phantom suddenly threw something at the ground. Dark smoke exploded from the point of impact, completely subsuming the immediate area.

“Smoke bomb!” Lithium cried in warning. She held her chain floating in mid-air, her teeth squeezing in aggravation. She couldn’t attack through the haze without risking hitting her own team. There was another call from Lamellar ordering the guards to get clear of the smoke. But then a third shout issued through the smog—an instinctive cry of pain.

Anelace rushed her way to the edge of the smoke just as it began to fade. With horror she found Geo on his belly ten feet in front of her. Both of his hind legs had been severed, a creeping red spreading out on the mud. The phantom loomed behind him, its katana smeared with fresh blood. It twitched its head and Geo’s helmet was thrown off. Anelace’s scream to stop were paid no heed, and with a sweep of its blade, it decapitated the young geomancer.

Lamellar and Burst Strike rushed in together to attack their teammates’ murderer, Anelace joining the fray a moment later. The song of clashing steel rang over Hayseed Swamp. The combatants lunged and parried, attacked and counterattacked with all they had. Lamellar sought to bring pressure with flickering cuts, trying to to open the assailant up for a critical blow from Burst Strike’s spear. The figure retreated as they moved across muddy terrain, going through trees and up slopes. But Lamellar could tell it was the assassin that guided the struggle. Cutting and parrying, hopping over another sweep from Burst Strike’s spear and sending him sprawling with a hard kick to the face, darting this way and that with an agile grace born of years of rigorous training. They were going where it wanted them to go; it was the one in control.

Until it wasn’t. As the figure reengaged Lamellar, the sergeant’s next upward stroke came on with such power that it jarred the assassin’s shoulders and almost knocked the sword from its grip. Forced to give ground, it found similar power when it blocked another cut from Anelace.

Something was amiss. Ducking and letting Anelace’s sword glide slanting away, the figure threw a low spinning kick that swept the young mare’s legs out from under her. A set of bladed projectiles hurled at Burst Strike and Lamellar bought it just enough time to throw a look around. Lithium stood a few feet from the water’s edge, horn glowing and eyes closed in concentration.

The dark avatar’s long stare marked comprehension.

Burst Strike aimed another spear thrust for the center of the specter’s chest. It narrowly sidestepped the strike, and to his surprise, lifted a hind leg to step on the blue-wrapped shaft and drive the tip down into the mud. When Lamellar came with a high-to-low cut from the opposite side, their foe somehow managed to block it without losing unbalancing its hoof from the spear, their blades locking in a standstill.

“Surrender,” Lamellar said sternly into the masked face.

“There’s no escape for you,” Burst Strike added with steely confidence.

The red and white visage turned to each stallion. Then, as it looked back into Lamellar’s face, its head tilted. As if it knew something they didn’t.

Suddenly, the surface of the water adjacent to Lithium erupted. The massive form of a cragadile, an age-old titan of the swamp, burst forth from the marsh. With a speed belying its size it lunged across the bank with open jaws toward Lithium. Three thousand pounds of pressure and cruel teeth slammed shut on the unicorn’s right hind leg. A scream that could curdle blood made the remaining Inquisitors swing their heads to see the behemoth dragging their squadmate back into the bog. One of her hooves tried in vain to grab onto slippery mud, the other feverishly striking the cragadile’s head along with the point of her whip.

“Lithium!” Anelace was already in motion, galloping towards her struggling friend.

“Go!” Burst Strike shouted to Lamellar. “I can handle this one.”

The sergeant nodded, breaking the blade lock and racing after Anelace. Burst Strike shoved the bottom of his spear up with his full body weight, throwing the warrior back. The phantom turned its fall into a roll that ended with it back on its hooves, sword held in a downward angle at its side.

Burst Strike stood on his hind legs, his heavily muscled frame towering over the masked murderer. The air whistled as he spun his spear in an elaborate flourish around his body and above his head. He smiled knowingly down at his opponent, and a new duel began.

Their weapons clashed, the assassin’s katana redirecting Burst Strike’s spear tip away from its chest. A swift countercut aiming for a foreleg was batted away by the spear’s shaft, only biting through blue cloth to show the metal beneath. The point of the buttcap came in quickly from the left, almost opening the phantom’s throat, but found nothing but empty space as the ghost nimbly sidestepped.

Remarkably, the ghost appeared to meet its match in Burst Strike. Even without the boon of strength and quickness from Lithium’s battle meditation, the Earth pony was a mountain of steel and strength nearly twice his opponent’s size, as well as deceptively quick in his own right. Burst Strike relentlessly brought the pressure, driving his spear forward with deadly precision. His greater reach and long weapon were also considerable advantages, forcing his opponent to dance on the edge of danger, always one misstep away from a fatal blow.

The figure darted forward, its katana a blinding flash of silver in the mist. But Burst Strike was ready, batting the second cut away with the spear shaft as easily as he did the first. Then Burst Strike’s hooves left the ground, gravity carrying the rotating spear to come crashing down like a tidal wave. The figure leaped aside, rolling to safety as the echo of metal cracking rock echoed through the trees. With all its speed the masked killer lunged for Burst Strike’s exposed right in the same moment as his next swing. Its slash caught him on the left foreleg, succeeding only in severing a few links of the Earth pony’s mail. And the metal shaft of his spear caught the assassin full force in the side, knocking it several feet along the ground.

As Burst Strike moved in for the kill, the figure’s hoof moved and threw something at the ground, and there was another eruption of dark smoke around it. Burst Strike hissed his teeth; another smoke bomb. Knowing better than to charge in, he held himself back and retreated a healthy distance from the smoke’s periphery. His spear drew back into ready position, his eyes scanning the shifting clouds, waiting.

His wait was short—the ghost exploded out of the black haze, sword held in one hoof. Burst Strike licked his lips with a smirk. His foe seemed unprepared for an opponent so heavily armored. Frustration must have set in, his enemy deciding to risk everything on a final desperate charge. Burst Strike let it come, holding fast until the murderer came within striking range. Then he sprang to meet it, driving his spear forward with all his force as the katana’s point reached for him.

It was the spear that landed, the deadly tip plunging through the figure’s lightly-armored chest. Bones crunched and flesh gave way, and two feet of polished metal pierced out from its withers. The figure went completely still, the katana’s point missing his armored chest by more than a foot.

Burst Strike snorted with satisfaction, studying its attire and equipment. Now that this was wrapped up, the team could the rest of this up and they could report this alarming development to High Command. Maybe find out exactly who or what this creature was, once they got that mask off.

The mask… just gazing at it now gave Burst Strike pause. The bone-white face, protruding horns and fangs, and the blood-red eyes. He had never seen any design like it in all of Equestria. Battle-hardened as he was, somehow that devilish excuse for a face was unsettling.

Just as he was getting pull his spear from the body, his peripheral vision caught another speck of white in the fading smoke clouds. He glanced to his right, and to his shock, saw his masked opponent standing in the settling smoke as if it had been there the whole time. Burt Strike was baffled, his mouth dropping open. He looked back at what should have been the corpse in front of him, and instead found his spear lodged in a statue-like construction of the wraith’s likeness, made entirely of red crystal.

Alarmed, he tried to yank his spear free, to no avail. The statue’s katana suddenly extended in a flash, piercing armor and flesh, the impact making him gasp. Blood flowed down the stallion’s chest, and an invisible force blew him back into the brush.

Back at the marsh’s edge, Anelace and Lamellar slashed again and again at the cragadile’s neck and body. “Let her go!” Anelace shouted, swinging her sword down on its head so hard her blade nicked. Their efforts were of no use, the creature remaining unperturbed as their weapons left only small chips and marks in its stony hide. Its crushing jaws refused to release their hold on Lithium’s leg, who cried out in further pain. Through her agony, the older unicorn had the wherewithal to wrap the business end of her chain whip securely around a tree, holding onto the other end for dear life, trying to keep the cragadile from dragging her any further. Bog water already licked at her underside.

Finally, Lamellar aimed the tip of his sword carefully and drove it into the cragadile’s left eye. It opened its jaws to bellow in rage and pain, allowing Lithium to wrench herself out of its mouth with a desperate pull.

Her relief was short-lived. The enraged cragadile knocked Lamellar one sweep of its powerful tail. Then its jaws lunged again, managing to just barely grab the lower right of Lithium’s underbelly.

The tormented wails of her comrade drove Anelace to forego her sword and simply punch the cragadile right in its bleeding, blinded eye. That was apparently the last damage it beast was willing to take; but the remorseless predator refused to leave unfulfilled. With a sudden, chillingly powerful jerk, the beast ripped out a hunk of flesh from Lithium’s belly. It wheeled around and retreated back into the murky water with its small morsel.

Anelace dropped her sword. She stood frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest like a panicked bird trapped within a cage. Her breath hitched in her throat, caught between the instinctive urge to scream and the numbing shock. The sight of her barely breathing friend’s suffering, of what the cragadile had taken from her, scorched itself into the canvas of her mind; a grotesque image that, Celestia-willing she survived this day, would never leave her memory.

Anelace wanted to look away, to escape the gruesome spectacle before her, her eyes remained as if bound by some morbid spell. Lithium’s pain was tangible, a palpable weight in the air that pressed down on the young mare, stealing her words and leaving her mute in the face of such raw, unfiltered suffering.

“There’s nothing we can do…” Lamellar said gravely, returning to Anelace’s side. Sorrow and regret stained his face.

There was a sudden thunk of metal on wood to the pair’s right that made them jerk their heads toward it. Embedded in the tree was a sharp metal object, the size of a hoof’s sole, and the shape of a four-pointed star. They turned to see the masked assassin looming, barely twenty feet away.

A hush fell over Anelace as she took in the meaning of the demon’s presence. Her heart was heavy with grief and disbelief. Burst Strike had been their most skilled warrior, a proud testament to his family name and a beacon of hope in their struggle against this dark warrior. And now he was gone, his life extinguished.

Fear and urgency welled up inside her as she turned to Lamellar, her voice trembling with a mix of dread and desperate pleading. “Sergeant, he’s too strong… We can’t defeat him, we have to retreat!”

Lamellar, his face etched with grim determination, met his pupil’s gaze. He understood her fear; her longing for self-preservation. But something else burned within him—a conviction that if they didn’t confront this killer now, the consequences would be far graver than their own lives. He firmly shook his head, his voice resolute, yet tinged with a touch of desperation. “If we let him escape, it could spell disaster for all Equestria. We cannot let that happen.” He reached out a hoof to take her by the shoulder. “You have to trust me.”

His words hung heavy in the air, a solemn vow that carried the weight of their mission. Anelace’s eyes wavered, torn between loyalty to her mentor and the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume her. She knew her captain was wise, and that he’d guided her through trials as an Inquisitor thus far. And so, with a deep breath, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Lamellar’s face softened with gratitude, his eyes reflexing a mix of pride and concern for his young pupil. With a silent understanding, they readied their swords and moved forward.

The assassin rushed to meet them, and the dance of blades resumed.

The two Inquisitors fought valiantly, their movements more synchronized and harmonious than ever. With each strike and parry, they pushed their enemy further back. Leaping away from Lamellar, the ghost deflected a crosscut from Anelace. It did the same to a follow up thrust and cracked the back of its hoof across the young mare’s cheek. The ground leaped up to smack the air from Anelace’s lungs. The katana swung down at her head for a killing strike.

Lamellar’s blade denied it. Righteous anger flashed in the sergeant’s eyes. The specter tried to pull away, but Lamellar pressed the attack, keeping it on the backhoof. Back and forth their weapons clashed. Lamellar blocked a strike aimed for his head, then circled his blade around the shade’s and forced it down into the dirt. And for the first time since the battle began, he addressed his enemy.

“Shinobi.”

The figure’s head jolted in Lamellar’s direction, as if surprised. The mask’s lifeless red eyes looked directly into the sergeant’s fearless bright blue orbs.

“Your fighting style is a long-forgotten art, but I understand it now.” Lamellar’s next attack sliced upward for the figure’s neck, missing narrowly. Holding his sword evenly in front of him, he parried two strikes from the katana, then stepped forward suddenly stabbing for his opponent’s left thigh. But as the katana blade moved to intercept, Lamellar flicked his weapon upwards in the other direction. The blade sliced into his opponent’s left foreleg just above the vambrace.

The figure pulled away, and both warriors held their ground. Lamellar could see a line of blood welling up beneath the apparel. That small triumph spurred Lamellar’s determination to new heights. Whatever lay beneath that mask and weave was very much flesh and blood.

The masked face looked at the wound, then back at the sergeant. Even through the inanimate red eyes, Lamellar could feel the anger radiating off the dark warrior. Without a word, the shinobi turned and retreated into the misty brush.

Before the sergeant could take a step, a hoof grabbed him by the foreleg. Anelace was up again and at his side. “Sergeant, we have to fall back,” she pleaded, her voice raw with emotion. “We’ve already lost too many…”

Lamellar shook himself free of her grip. “We can take him,” he insisted, his voice gruff with the heat of battle. It softened as he looked at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

Before she could protest further, Lamellar was already moving, his armor clinking quietly as he stalked off in the direction the assassin had gone. Anealce hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep breath, followed.

The pair’s pursuit brought the two remaining guards to a drier patch of the swamp. Here they came upon a forest of mangrove trees, the massive, interconnected root systems taller than a pony and twisted in such a way to create a labyrinth of narrow paths. Lamellar swallowed, tightening the grip on his sword. He moved carefully and deliberately, but it didn’t stop his greaves from squelching in the mud. He knew their enemy could be hiding in any shadow, ready to strike. From the fearful look on her face, so did Anelace. The chorus of the swamp, the croaks of frogs and hums of insects, was a constant backdrop to their hunt.

The situation sat heavy in Lamellar’s gut. Just as the battle began to shift in their favor, this warrior had again turned their advantage into his, leading them into territory that gave him the upper hoof. Their every step, every movement produced a sound that was a beacon announcing their position. They were on their enemy’s turf, playing his game. He glanced back at his pupil, watched her scanning their surroundings with wide, vigilant eyes. He felt a pang of guilt. She was too young to be thrown into such a fight. But they had no choice. They had to see this through.

“Stay close,” Lamellar warned, his voice barely above a whisper. “And keep your eyes sharp.”

Anelace nodded wordlessly, keeping pace behind him. A rustle suddenly approaching from behind made the pair jolt. Anelace reacted, whirling and swinging her sword in a blind arc. Her steel met, much to her surprise, the wood of a leafy tree branch that thudded to the ground.

“Decoy!”

Panic surged through Anelace at her sergeant’s words. She spun back around to catch a shadow descending with terrific speed from above. But Lamellar had been prepared, rising to two legs to catch the shinobi’s falling blade with his own. A front kick front the sergeant staggered their foe backwards, and Anelace rushed to join him in the fight.

The three warriors traded attacks back and forth along. Anelace swung another wide arc for their opponent’s legs. In a breath-taking show of acrobatics and precision, the shinobi jumped and twisted, simultaneously overleaping Anelace’s blade and throwing a kick that knocked her sword from her hoof. The weapon spiraled through the air, landing in some gnarled tangle of mangrove roots, unable to be reached. Ice shot through Anelace’s veins. She reacted instinctively, jumping backwards to and narrowly avoiding the thrust of the specter’s katana aimed at her throat. She lost her balance in the process, tumbling to the ground. The katana drew back, priming for a thrust for Anelace’s exposed underbelly to end her life.

“No!” Fiery desperation powered Lamellar’s downward cut. The assassin was forced to turn and block it, but Lamellar’s strike carried so much strength it rattled his enemy’s guard. Fueled both by the desire to protect his student and anger for the demon that had killed his comrades, Lamellar drove the assassin back under a rain of blows. A strip of the figure’s dark clothing fluttered away.

The two came together until they were face-to-mask, blades locked, the sergeant bearing down on his smaller enemy. His burning eyes stared directly into the red eye guards, and for one infinitesimal moment, saw a small reflection of something through the eye holes.

It vanished as the specter moved its head again. Anelace was wrenched from the ground and held ten feet in the air. She yelped, flailing helplessly. Lamellar’s attention came off his opponent, righteous fury immediately melting into alarm. “Anelace!”

One moment was all the wraith needed. Its left hoof left the sword hilt and reached over the opposite foreleg. From some concealed place on its hip, the curved dagger that had spilled Cerise’s blood flew to its hoof. In one swift motion it forced Lamellar’s blade aside, and with a backhoofed stab, buried the smaller blade in his throat.

A horrible, choking gasp came from Lamellar as he staggered backward. Shock, pain, and half-a-dozen other emotions swirled in his face as time slowed to a crawl. A cascade of red flowed down his neck. Weakly, he looked one last time with remorseful eyes into the face of his heartbroken pupil. “I’m… sorry.” The longsword slipped from Lamellar’s grip, and his body joined it on the ground. He died slowly.

And now the shattered Anelace realized she was alone with her squad’s butcher. The masked face turned to her, the invisible grip lowering her body until she dangled a mere two feet off the ground, and the devil approached.

Anelace quivered, too struck with terror to struggle anymore. Her eyes went to the curved blade, spotted faint spots of blood. The monster came within four feet of her.

As the otherworldly white and red face stared into Anelace’s, the figure appeared to hesitate. Only to whip around and bring up its sword to block the blow of a spear.

Abruptly freed by the phantom’s lapse in concentration, Anelace fell straight to the ground. She gasped as Burst Strike, holding his freed spear held in one hand, clashed weapons with the demon. Blood poured from the hole in his armor. “Run!” was all Burst Strike had time to shout before the cylindrical metal pommel of the assassin’s katana smashed his visor-covered mouth, staggering him backwards.

Acting on pure adrenaline, Anelace at least had the presence of mind to remember Lamellar’s sword laying in the dirt and call it to her with her magic. The moment the hilt touched her hoof, she about-faced and took off like a bullet.

That left Burst Strike to stand alone against the ghost, who fell on him with a furious onslaught. His injury limiting him to the use of one hoof, it was all he could do to defend himself. And every attack he blocked, every vibration through his spear on contact made a stab of pain from his chest wound sear through him. The anguish impeded his movements, sapped his strength, slowed the few counters he could muster so that they were easily evaded. Before long, the attacks took their toll. His muscles burned with fatigue, and his defenses faltered, allowing the demon to work its way inside his guard and land a blow across mailed underbelly strong enough to knock him onto his back.

Observing with frustrated body language that its katana still failed to harm the stallion through his chainmail, the demon sheathed its sword. Burst Strike was suddenly pulled into the air by an invisible surge. He was sent crashing into the trunk of a nearby mangrove tree. He was slammed into the thick branch of another, which cracked with a sharp sound. A final telekinetic surge hurtled the stallion back down into the ground.

Spitting mud and blood from his mouth, his body and armor dirtied and mangled, Burst Strike tried to stand. As he slowly rose, he glanced up to see the specter raised up on two legs, holding its head high. With one dynamic gesture, it whipped down and slammed its hooves into the dirt. Instantaneously, a set of pointed stalagmites made of scarlet crystal burst from the ground around Burst Strike. The jagged red stones impaled him from four different directions, piercing through armor, chainmail and all.

Burst Strike made a choked gasp as the air was driven from his lungs. Through his shock, the cold, piercing fire and grating of the spikes against bone almost felt like they were happening to someone else. He coughed blood, his final filmy thought a hope that he had bought enough time for Anelace to escape. That one ally might live to see another day. Then darkness swept over him.

---

Anelace’s heart pounded in her chest. The stone and trees of the surroundings were a blur around her as she galloped. She ran as hard and as fast as her legs would take her, her breath ragged and uneven. Fear alone seemed to propel her forward.

How had everything gone so wrong so fast?

What was supposed to be a simple investigation of missing ponies had turned into a nightmare. Gruesome memories swirled across Anelace’s eyes as she ran. Cerise, Geo, Lithium, Lamellar… the faces of her friends, and the images of their grizzly ends were burned into her very soul. And the monster that had done it, that mask… the hateful red and white visage would haunt her forever.

A sense of helpless insignificance washed over her. Her comrades, her friends, were dead; their lives robbed by a shadowy, malevolent monster. And she had been powerless to save any of them. She was an Inquisitor. A Royal Guard tasked with the protection of her county. A member of the venerable Hunter Squad.

Now she was all that remained, left only with her mentor’s sword and the echoes of her trauma. A terrified mare left alone against a demon. Fear, helplessness and regret twisted inside her like a cruel tempest threatening to consume her.

Finally, Anelace broke free from the forest’s edge, her greaves sinking into the soft, green grass of an open field beside a lake. Exhaustion took hold and she stumbled, falling to the ground with a gasp of pain. Her body trembled, her energy waning as the rush of adrenaline began to wear off. For a long moment she laid there, the sounds of rustling birds and lakeside insects and she picked herself and trudged onward. On the horizon, she could see the dots of civilization on the horizon. All she had to do was make it back to Baltimare, and this nightmare would be over.

Then Anelace felt it—a cold, predatory presence behind her. The monster was here. Her breath hitched and her heart beat faster.

Recent memories ignited, the images of the gruesome deaths she had witnessed flooding back, and her fear and desperation began to twist into anger. As a Royal Guard, she had been taught to discipline herself, to control her emotions. But now, it was all she had left. And she made it her fuel.

No longer trembling, she grasped the hilt of Lamellar’s sword and drew it free. Her stormy eyes reflected in the gleaming blade. With a hardened face and firmed resolve, she turned to face her enemy.

The demon stood at the edge of the forest, sword held ready hoof. The unblinking red eyes gazed at her like a tiger eyeing its prey. Anelace could practically feel the murderous intent washing over her. This time, she didn’t falter an inch. Her comrades were dead at the hooves of this monster. Murdered without respect, and let to rot like trash.

Seething with rage, Anelace charged.

Abandoning any pretense of observing even the slightest caution, Anelace barreled into the masked warrior with unrestrained fury. She struck at the assassin as if her own safety meant nothing, lost in a red haze of rage and frustration, consumed by grief for her friends and his failure to prevent their deaths.

The specter was caught off guard by the young mare’s wild assault, retreating further and further back in a desperate bid to stay one step ahead of Anelace’s blade. Catching Anelace’s downward cut in a bind, the figure grabbed her foreleg rolled to its back, planting both hind hooves into the mare’s chest and using the momentum to flip her over and through the air. Anelace had the instinct to exhale before her back hit the ground and rolled to her hooves quickly, but lost her helmet in the impact, and the assassin regained the offensive and counterattacked. Anelace worked her blade in a deft defensive flurry. The sword was alive in her hooves, as if still guided by her mentor’s spirit to protect her. The blades kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Anelace spotted an opening and thrust for her opponent’s ribs, but a nimble flip carried the shinobi to safety. And Anelace bulled after it.

The dance went on, the forest edge echoed with the sounds of the two warriors’ fury. Anelace threw everything she had at malicious avatar, starting to grunt and shout with every attack. Steel rang, steel sang, steel screamed and sparked and scraped, yet she couldn’t reach the demon. It was as if her opponent had an iron cage around her that stopped every blow.

Parrying another cut, the shinobi spun and struck another backhoof across Anelace’s now unarmored face, sending her sprawling. But before it had a chance to finish off its downed prey, it was blown back by a green beam of magic unleashed by Anelace, an attack fueled by pure emotion and desperation. Now the figure was the one in the dirt, with Anelace rising and charging to end the duel. And as she came within two yards, more scarlet crystals sprang from the ground between her and the ghost, lashing out to catch the young guardsmare in her armored chest and throwing her back to slide across the ground.

Despite the pain she felt, Anelace rose. Her armor came apart at the chest, split in two by the conjured red gemstone. The single amalgamation of peytral, flanchard and crupper slipped from her body. Lines of red dripped down her chest. She was shaking, her strength abandoning her, and still she willed herself to fight. To avenge her fallen comrades.

She glared back to find the monster standing, waiting. With a shout of fury, she lunged with her sword in both hooves, aiming to split the mask-wearing head in two. The ghost lifted its parallel-held blade and block. But this time, it aimed and timed the movement so that its blade caught the grip of Anelace’s weapon. In the instant that followed, the dark warrior kneeled and the katana flashed, circling around Anelace’s guard in the blink of an eye and slicing across her ribs.

Anelace gasped in sudden pain, falling to her knees, and a bright steel flashed in front of her. She’d lost. She’d failed. And now the demon stood over her, sword held in both hooves and blade pointed right at her face. Despite the pain and certainty of her impending doom, her gaze blazed with defiance.

The figure stood there, its blade gleaming in the morning light. The masked face stayed fixed on Anelace’s. It saw the sorrow and anger in Anelace’s eyes.

Again, there was hesitation.

Then the figure noticed something. The movements in the water and undergrowth, the chirps of birds and insects; they had ceased. The forest edge had gone completely and utterly silent.

It stiffened. They were not alone.

A shallow exhale issued from behind the mask. The figure tightened its grip on the katana’s hilt, the leather wrapping squeaking under the pressure. With a swift motion, it drew back the blade and drove it forward, straight through Anelace’s heart.

Anelace’s eyes weidened, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes didn’t show fear, but they did show pain. The shinobi pulled back its blade, now red with fresh blood that dripped from the edge. Anelace toppled face forward. The dirt drank her blood, and she died.

---

The dark warrior stood stone still above her final opponents corpse, the sole survivor of the carnage it had unleashed. It silently down at Anelace’s body as if communing with itself; reflecting on the memories of blood and steel. Lifting its left foreleg, its weapon levitated before. The blade ran through through the crease of its elbow, removing the blood, then vanished into the warriors scabbard with a soft hiss.

This battle had been fierce. Indeed, more of a challenge than it had anticipated. Especially the enormous stallion with the spear. But even more powerful than him was the last look on the face of her final opponent. One of utter rage and pain.

It was a look the figure knew all too well.

Its train of thought was interrupted when another cloaked shadow twice its height suddenly appeared, walked from behind it on the right with an unnatural silence. The shinobi stiffened; it hadn’t even sensed the arrival.

The shadow loomed over Anelace’s corpse, then spoke. Its voice was accented; low, but powerful. “You have done well, my apprentice.”

The shinobi’s head twitched, betraying confusion.

“I have brought these servants of the alicorns to you,” the shadow explained, as if reading the warrior’s thoughts, “and every death has made you stronger. You have faced your first true test.” It glanced again to Anelace’s body. “You have been well trained, but you must never allow your focus to lapse. Only by learning to kill without hesitation will you reach your full potential.”

The shinobi stiffened, sensing the rebuke beneath the words. It bent one and bowed its head.

“You have struck the first blow against our enemy. You know what you must do now. Leave not a trace.” The shadow lifted its head to the city on the edge of the horizon, paused for five seconds, then spoke again. “A new power is rising. It has been foretold. Something not of this world. A storm that will sweep over and ravage the land. Leaving it ripe for our taking.”

The shinobi’s head perked, intrigue mixing with puzzlement.

“The great work will soon begin in full,” the shadow said, walking to stand over the apprentice. “Soon this bloated and corrupt kingdom will be brought down.” The air itself grew denser, heavy under the weight of growing power. “This will be the beginning of the end of Celestia.”

The synthesized male voice of the apprentice answered, “Yes, my master.”

Author's Note:

And just like that, more pieces are in now place. Bonus points if you can guess which fan project this fic takes heavy inspiration from.

-Super Saiyan D