The bullet passed through his face, or rather where it was mere nanoseconds earlier. A blanket of white mist filled the empty space where the faceless man stood, then suddenly was filled with his body again. It happened so fast that no ordinary eye would have been able to detect the moment of his disappearance. The wayward missile exploded into the church door behind him, leaving the first mark of battle in the sanctuary.

Why did this man bother? He already admitted he couldn’t kill him. There was no point for him to continue, yet there was a good reason for him to die. It was fate’s ironic personality, bringing the killer to death’s door, no matter how overconfident he was. Still, this man wouldn’t go underestimated.

This guy had a weapon unlike any other he’d seen before. It fired projectiles at tremendous speeds, about as fast as Sin himself, much faster than any arrow. It wouldn’t be too much trouble if well avoided and deflected, but it was most definitely an irritating device nonetheless.

Monroe had a knife sheathed at his chest. It wouldn’t be much trouble if used, but it was noted.

Listening to his mind, He heard Vossler briefly consider something about his sword tucked under his trench coat. Merely that brief thought gave him a vivid image of the weapon: an intricate hilt void of a blade. Just because it didn’t have any steel didn’t mean it was harmless, in fact it was probably something he’d have to keep a wary eye on, given Monroe was considering its use.

Beyond his weapons, the man was muscular, although his muscles exclusive to his physical state. Merely human.

The faceless enigma came to all these conclusions in a fraction of a second, not wasting a single moment, just long enough for him to formulate his first attack. The white mist from his teleportation hadn’t even begun to settle yet.

Without warning, he lunged forward, fist aiming toward Monroe’s head. Suddenly, his arm switched trajectories, crashing into the man’s hand. His gun clattered to the floor. A second fist flew toward Monroe’s stomach, but was quickly avoided. The exact moment he knew his attack failed, the faceless enigma vanished in a wave of smoke, reappearing behind his victim, planting his foot into his back.

The dark clad man rolled forward, grabbing his gun from the floor and cocking it for another shot. He slid to a stop, facing his opponent with gun extended all in one motion. He pulled the trigger, unleashing a bang.

The air sparked with energy, a black portal materializing in front of the masked ghost just as the projectile made contact. A second crack sounded as the bullet reflected off the field and back toward its owner.

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Tree | Styx