Chapter 29: The Shadow-Walker and the High Suspension

  The ascent up the sheer exterior of the Cloudwalker inn was a chaotic, freezing blur of vertical motion. The Zephyrian wind shrieked against the white stone, desperately trying to pry Zeno off the wall and cast him down into the yawning abyss below. Zeno ignored it entirely. His amber eyes were locked onto the dark, fleeting shape of the Shadow-Walker scaling the tower above him.

  Zeno moved with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency. His incredibly dense muscle fibers, fueled by his massive Endurance, did not burn or fatigue. He didn't search for handholds; he simply drove his dark-wrapped fingers into the decorative grooves of the architecture, utilizing his base Strength of 26 to haul his entire body weight upward in massive, leaping pulls. He looked less like a human climbing a building and more like a massive, angry spider scrambling up a flat surface against a hurricane.

  Forty feet above him, the Shadow-Walker glanced down.

  Even through the dark, featureless mask covering the mercenary's face, Zeno could sense the absolute, jarring shock radiating from the thief. Shadow-Walkers were trained for years to master the art of vertical evasion using specialized gear and precise wind Tena. Seeing a messy-haired teenager in a simple tunic closing the distance using nothing but raw, absurd physical muscle was entirely outside their operational parameters.

  The thief realized they could not outpace the monster climbing beneath them. They had to break his grip.

  Clinging to the wall with one hand and their hooked boots, the Shadow-Walker reached down to their matte-black belt with their free hand. They pulled three small, dark metallic spheres and hurled them downward directly at Zeno’s face.

  Zeno’s Agility stat allowed him to track the falling projectiles instantly. He didn't know what they were, but Master Shifu had always taught him never to catch things thrown by an enemy with a clouded mind.

  Zeno let go of the wall with his right hand, completely supporting his entire body weight with his left arm. He didn't try to dodge; the wind was too unpredictable. He simply swatted the three spheres away with the back of his dark-wrapped fist, treating them like annoying iron flies.

  The moment his wraps connected, the spheres detonated.

  They didn't explode with kinetic force or fire. They exploded into a massive, expanding cloud of thick, blinding purple smoke. The alchemical smoke was heavier than the surrounding air, clinging instantly to the stone wall and completely engulfing Zeno, stinging his eyes and throat.

  "I cannot see the rocks!" Zeno yelled, squeezed his eyes shut against the burning chemical fog.

  Above him, the Shadow-Walker used the distraction to surge upward, reaching the massive, swaying suspension bridge that connected the top of the inn to the main central spire of the outpost. The thief scrambled over the edge, pulling themselves onto the wooden planks.

  Zeno was completely blind, hanging by one hand hundreds of feet in the air, enveloped in burning smoke. Panic would have killed an ordinary person. But Zeno didn't panic. He simply held his breath, closing off his respiratory system, and engaged his other senses.

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  He felt the cold stone beneath his left fingers. He felt the heavy, rushing wind trying to push him sideways. And, incredibly, he felt the faint, localized vibrations traveling down the stone wall from the suspension bridge above, created by the thief's boots hitting the wood.

  The target is straight up, Zeno calculated in his mind, completely relying on his physical intuition.

  He didn't wait for the smoke to clear. He pulled himself upward blindly, throwing his right hand blindly into the smoke, finding the next groove by pure muscle memory and spatial awareness. He lunged upward again, moving entirely on instinct.

  Three massive pulls later, Zeno burst through the top of the purple smoke cloud. He gasped for the clean, freezing mountain air, his amber eyes watering slightly from the chemical burn, but his vision quickly clearing.

  He was directly beneath the thick wooden planks of the high suspension bridge.

  Zeno reached up, his fingers wrapping around the thick, braided steel cables that supported the bridge. He hauled himself over the edge, landing heavily on the swaying wooden surface.

  The suspension bridge was at least two hundred feet long, spanning the massive, central canyon of the outpost. It swayed violently in the high-altitude winds, the thick ropes groaning under the tension. There were no side rails, only a single, chest-high guide rope on either side.

  Standing in the absolute center of the swaying bridge was the Shadow-Walker. The mercenary had stopped running. They were holding Elian’s thick, leather-bound ledger securely under one arm. Recognizing the sheer physical threat Zeno posed, the thief did not draw a sword for close combat. Instead, their free hand bristled with five throwing daggers, each one humming with a faint, compressed green aura of wind Tena.

  "You should drop the book," Zeno announced clearly, standing up to his full height on the shifting planks. "Elian needs it to write about the blue melon. And he was very upset when you broke his window."

  The Shadow-Walker did not reply. The mercenary simply flicked their wrist with blinding speed. Five wind-accelerated daggers screamed across the bridge, aiming for Zeno’s eyes and throat.

  Zeno didn't try to block the magical projectiles. He dropped his center of gravity completely, utilizing the Flowing Step Lyra had taught him to weave chaotically across the swaying bridge. The daggers whizzed past him, embedding themselves deeply into the wooden planks behind him.

  Zeno lunged forward, closing the distance.

  The Shadow-Walker realized that engaging this physical anomaly on a swaying bridge was suicide. They turned and sprinted toward the far edge of the bridge, reaching for a release mechanism on their back to deploy their glider.

  "No flying!" Zeno roared.

  He pushed his Agility to the limit, sprinting across the violently moving bridge. Just as the Shadow-Walker leaped off the edge into the void, ready to deploy their canvas wings, Zeno dove.

  His dark-wrapped hand clamped down onto the mercenary's ankle with the crushing force of a hydraulic press.

  The sudden, violent arrest of momentum jerked the thief mid-air. The Shadow-Walker gasped in pain and shock. Their grip on the heavy ledger failed.

  The leather-bound book tumbled from their hands, sliding precariously across the tilting wooden planks toward the abyss.

  The thief, realizing they were caught, desperately kicked at Zeno’s face with their free boot, engaging a small burst of wind Tena to break free. Zeno released the ankle to avoid the blade hidden in the thief's boot.

  The Shadow-Walker tumbled away into the darkness, their glider wings snapping open a second later, carrying them swiftly down into the misty canyon.

  Zeno ignored the escaping thief. He scrambled across the bridge on his hands and knees, throwing his body over the sliding ledger just inches before it fell off the edge. He pinned it securely to the wood with his massive chest.

  "I caught the voices!" Zeno cheered happily into the freezing wind, scooping the heavy book up and tucking it securely under his arm.

  The immediate threat was gone. Zeno turned around, holding the precious book tightly, and began the long, wobbly walk back across the bridge toward the Cloudwalker inn. He was very cold, very tired, and he really hoped Lyra hadn't eaten the rest of his roasted bird.