Legacy's Wake

Temoshí dashed through the streets with Stitch and Shanya, the latter carrying Chiaki's unconscious form on her shoulder. Stitch led the way, carefully guiding them toward Dr. Hugo's location. Despite his mind having been overwhelmed by sudden anxiety earlier, Temoshí's demeanor shifted into an oddly calm, almost nonchalant state.

"This doctor, Hugo... can he really save her?" he asked, his voice level as he cast a steady look at Stitch. He couldn't help but notice the small crease of worry on her face, highlighted by a solitary bead of sweat trailing down her cheek.

"Yeah, I sure hope so," Stitch replied, her voice soft and measured as she kept her focus on the path ahead. With Mendy fluttering around her in sync with her stride, she continued, "He can—I'm willing to bet on it."

Their path forward was nothing short of a nightmare, as Desmond relentlessly pursued them, keeping just enough distance to leave them uncertain about how quickly he would close in. The eerie weight of his presence loomed over them, making every step feel like a race against impending doom.

"A bunch of frightened children, scurrying away from the consequences of their own foolish mistakes," Desmond sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "The second I get my hands on that little needle girl..." His words trailed off, his focus narrowing as he anticipated catching up to them any moment now.

Meanwhile, the trio sprinted down a sloping hill, their hurried steps kicking up dust as they followed a winding road leading toward the outskirts—toward the dense forest that bordered the terrain behind Cascade Cradle.

"Hey, Burnsy!" Shanya called out, her voice cutting through the chaos as she sprinted to keep up.

Temoshí glanced back at her, catching the urgency in her tone. But as Shanya's eyes flickered past him, her expression tightened with unease. Someone was following them. At first, the silhouette resembled Desmond, but as the figure grew clearer through the swirling smoke, an unsettling realization hit her—this was someone else entirely.

A tall, menacing presence stepped through the haze, their long coat flowing behind them like a shadow cast by the devastation. Their piercing red eyes burned through the gloom, locking onto Shanya and Temoshí with a bone-chilling intensity. In their grasp, a massive dual-bladed weapon gleamed beneath the dim light, its razor-sharp edges reflecting the ruin surrounding them.

"There's more of them? Just how many?!" Shanya blurted out, frustration laced in her voice as she kept pace with the others.

Temoshí didn't respond. His attention drifted to Stitch, whose expression had shifted drastically. The confidence she carried just moments ago had faded, replaced by a tense, almost fearful look. That alone told him something was very wrong.

The figure pursuing them was swift—unnaturally so. They moved like a shadow flitting through the ruins, leaping effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, their coat trailing behind them like a phantom's veil. Their movements were erratic yet eerily graceful, as if they weren't bound by the same laws of motion as ordinary people.

Then, without warning, they lunged.

Like a bolt of darkness slicing through the air, the figure shot toward them, their dual-bladed weapon gleaming in the dim light. But it wasn't aimed at all of them—it was locked onto a single target.

Stitch.

The force of the attack tore through the air as they closed in, their red eyes glowing with lethal intent.

Locking onto the silhouette in an instant, Temoshí reacted without hesitation. He leaned forward, pivoting sharply on his foot, altering his trajectory mid-sprint. In a blur of motion, he surged between Shanya and Stitch, who both shot him a bewildered glance, caught off guard by his sudden shift.

But he wasn't stopping.

With a burst of explosive speed, he launched himself toward the incoming assailant, twisting midair like a coiled spring unraveling. His leg whipped around in a brutal arc, its surface hardening into reinforced steel as he drove the strike straight into the center of the dual-bladed weapon. The impact sent a sharp, metallic resonance howling through the streets, sparks flying like embers from the sheer force of their collision.

Yet before the figure could fully recover, Temoshí fluidly shifted his momentum. In the same breath, his opposite leg ignited into a roaring blaze, the azure flames curling along its length like a serpent of fire. He spun, turning the force of his movement into a devastating second strike—his burning instep colliding squarely against the pursuer's skull.

The flames didn't just scorch; they latched onto the target, wrapping them in a swirling vortex of searing heat. The sheer impact twisted the figure into a violent spiral before launching them backward like a meteor, slamming them against the fortified wall of a nearby building with a thunderous crash. The entire structure trembled on impact, cracks spider-webbing across its surface as embers flickered through the air, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield.

Temoshí landed smoothly, his feet barely touching the ground before he propelled himself backward, swiftly creating distance from the fallen attacker. Without missing a beat, he spun on his heel and sprinted forward, quickly closing the gap between himself and the two girls.

As he caught up, his sharp gaze flicked toward Stitch. "What's that girl's deal? She went straight for you, Stitch. It was like she was targeting you specifically," he questioned, his voice laced with curiosity and concern.

Stitch stiffened, her expression clouding over with unease. She cast a quick, sidelong glance at Mendy, the small doll fluttering beside her, before lowering her head. Instead of answering, she suddenly picked up her pace, pushing herself into a full sprint.

Both Temoshí and Shanya exchanged puzzled looks before hastily matching her speed. There was something off—Stitch's avoidance wasn't just fear, it was something deeper. She tilted her face downward, as if trying to conceal the emotions threatening to surface.

Temoshí's eyes lingered on Mendy, his instincts telling him that the doll played a far bigger role in Stitch's life than she let on. But now wasn't the time to pry. Whatever it was, she wasn't ready to talk, and they had more urgent matters to handle.

For now, he pushed his thoughts aside and refocused on the path ahead. The forest was drawing closer, and with it, their destination—Dr. Hugo Blackwood. Time was slipping through their fingers, and with Chiaki's life hanging in the balance, every second counted.

But the standoff surrounding Hollow dragged on, the tension thick despite his unwavering composure. He stood there, unfazed, acting as if the numbers against him meant nothing. In reality, he wasn't just calm—he was too calm, something none of them expected from a lone wolf facing an entire pack.

"Not gonna lie, y'all showing up here? Huge favor to me," he drawled, stepping backward with a smug grin, the storm pouring down around him. His soaked figure barely flinched as lightning cracked in the distance. "You finally made my sweet little Stitch unleash all three of her lovely little nightmares. The ones built just to rip her apart."

His voice dipped lower, more venomous. "From Notch to the Faceless, and now the big boss herself—Harvester. All three of 'em are loose now. Which means... she finally gets to learn the truth. That this world never wanted her. That no matter how much she fights, how much she clings to hope—people will always look at her like a damn mistake."

He let out a short, dark chuckle, running a hand through his drenched hair. "Ever since she was just a little brat, she begged to have that messed-up eye of hers fixed. But nope—wasn't in the cards. And what did she get instead? People pointing, laughing, tearing her down piece by piece. She was so close to breaking, to losing it completely, damn near got herself turned into a headline."

His grin widened, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction. "But since the world couldn't shove her off the edge... her hunters will."

To be continued...