The sun had risen, but warmth did not follow.
Pale light filtered through the jagged ruins above, painting the world in soft gold, yet everything still felt cold—quiet. As if the air itself was mourning something lost in the night.
Jun sat motionless by the remains of the fire, his arms wrapped around his knees, head down, shoulders trembling slightly from pain or fatigue—or both.
Lina knelt beside him, re-wrapping his chest with strips of cloth torn from her own tunic. Her hands moved gently, but her jaw was clenched tight.
Maya, meanwhile, stood back with her arms folded. She had done the best she could: cleaned the worst wounds, pressed herbs into the deeper gashes, stitched two cuts with a sharpened thorn and thread from her hairband.
But now she just stared at him.
Jun had said nothing since they'd woken.
He hadn't complained. Hadn't flinched. Hadn't asked for help.
He'd simply said: "It's done."
And they'd understood.
He had fought alone. And survived.
Maya broke the silence first.
"You should've told us," she said, her voice flat.
Jun didn't look up. "If I had, would you have let me go?"
"No," she said immediately. "We would've fought with you."
Lina nodded, though her face betrayed doubt. "We could've done something. We could've… I don't know… helped distract it, at least."
Jun shook his head slowly. "If it had seen you, you'd be dead."
The words were simple, not cruel. Just facts.
"But you could've died," Maya whispered.
Jun looked at her. "Yes."
The answer stunned them both into silence again.
Later, when Jun was able to stand—barely—they gathered what little they had and ate quietly. Half a charred root, a few bitter berries, and water gathered from rain pooled in the ruins.
No one spoke for a long time.
Finally, Jun turned to Maya.
"You're the smartest. You should decide what we do next."
The words caught her off guard. She blinked. "What?"
"I'm not a leader," he said. "I survived out there, sure. But I don't think like you. You see things I don't."
"I—" Maya hesitated. "But I don't… I'm not used to making decisions for others. I analyze. That's all."
Jun shrugged, which made him wince. "Then analyze what comes next."
Maya stared at him. His calmness unnerved her more than anything else. That he could talk like this after what he'd been through.
After a long pause, she nodded slowly. "We need to understand these creatures better. Especially the Category 1s. If there are more… and there are more… we need to know their patterns, their behavior, their weaknesses."
She looked at Jun. "You killed it. You saw it up close. Can you describe it to me? Every detail?"
Jun closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
He spoke, carefully: about its muscles, its jaw, the way it moved, the way it bled, how it reacted to fire. How its face opened like petals. How it didn't use eyes—only scent and sound.
Maya listened intently, nodding, occasionally asking short questions.
Lina, sitting nearby, hugged her knees. "So… what now?"
Maya turned toward her. "We find the body."
Jun opened his eyes. "You sure it's still there?"
"I have to see it," Maya said. "We need data. Knowledge is the only advantage we have."
Jun nodded. "Then let's go."
They followed Jun through the ruins.
His pace was slow. Every step sent pain through his body, but he didn't show it unless you watched closely—the tightness in his jaw, the stiffness in his walk.
The path was still etched in his memory. Around a collapsed wall, past the pool of black water, under the broken archway.
And then…
The site of the battle.
But something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The corpse was gone.
Or rather—what remained of it was… unnatural.
Bones, yes. Cracked and shattered across the ground.
Blue ichor still stained the stones.
But the flesh was… gone. Melted. Dissolved.
Lina stepped back, covering her mouth.
Maya crouched beside what had once been the creature's spine.
"It's decomposing," she murmured.
"Fast," Jun added.
"No. Not fast." Maya's brows furrowed. "Engineered. This isn't natural decay."
Jun scanned the ground. "Maybe something ate it?"
Maya shook her head. "No signs of scavengers. No blood trail. No drag marks. Just… chemical breakdown."
She pointed at a bone.
Faint symbols shimmered along its surface. Irregular, like runes or ancient circuits.
"What are those?" Lina asked.
"I don't know." Maya leaned closer. "But they weren't here earlier."
Jun remained quiet.
His eyes weren't on the bones.
They were on something else.
Just near the center of the battlefield, hidden beneath a slab of cracked stone… was a shard.
Dark. Blacker than night. As if it absorbed light rather than reflected it.
It pulsed faintly.
Jun stepped toward it, slowly, carefully, and knelt.
He didn't call the others. Didn't mention it.
He reached out—and picked it up.
It felt alive. Cold, yet vibrating. Whispering against his skin. Like it wanted to be used.
A Fragment.
He recognized it now. Somehow. Instinctively.
He turned, tucking it into the folds of his makeshift belt.
When he returned to the others, his expression hadn't changed.
"What's wrong?" Maya asked, noticing the shift in his posture.
"Nothing," Jun lied smoothly. "Just making sure we weren't being watched."
Maya nodded slowly, though she studied him longer than usual.
Jun didn't flinch.
They walked back in silence, minds full of questions none of them knew how to answer.
The ruins were no longer just dangerous—they were strange.
The monster hadn't just been a beast. It had been something… designed.
And what would happen if all the monsters here carried similar secrets?
That night, Jun sat by the fire again.
His wounds burned. His muscles screamed.
But his mind was focused elsewhere.
The Fragment rested in his hand.
It whispered.
Not in words—but in impressions. In urges.
Like a dream at the edge of memory.
He gripped it tighter, feeling the pulse resonate with something inside him.
Something deeper.
No more running.
He looked over at Maya and Lina.
They were asleep again. Close to each other, breathing softly.
He turned back to the fire.
And listened.