The Eastern City crossroads was supposed to be alive with color and chatter tonight.
Normally, this intersection was the beating heart of the district — vendors setting up late-night stalls, neon boards flashing advertisements into the humid air, laughter spilling from taverns that never seemed to close. The wide roads met in a perfect cross of four directions, each artery funneling carts, cars, and streams of people to the city center.
But not tonight.
The laughter had died. The neon still flickered, but its light only made the shadows deeper. Traffic horns had gone silent, their owners abandoning vehicles in panic. Doors of cars stood open, headlights blinked uselessly into smoke and dust. The only sound left was the pounding of boots and sandals on pavement as citizens fled, their terrified cries echoing between skyscrapers.
Screams bled together into one continuous howl. Mothers dragged children by the wrist. Vendors dropped coin pouches and ran without looking back. The few who lingered only did so because their legs had failed them, frozen in the face of a nightmare.
And at the center of it all — two beasts that had no place in this world.
The first stood taller than any man, its height stretching nearly three times over. Its body was wrapped in obsidian scales, each scale glowing faintly from the cracks between them as molten veins pulsed with heat. Lava dripped from its fanged maw, sizzling where it fell, turning asphalt into bubbling tar. Its roar was like a volcano bursting — deep, guttural, rattling the bones of all who heard.
The second was a nightmare of an entirely different shape. Leaner but no less massive, its jagged body was armored in crystalline spikes. They jutted like spears from its shoulders, elbows, and spine, refracting the dim streetlights into thousands of warped fragments. Faint mana veins glowed beneath the translucent surface, pulsing rhythmically like a beating heart. When it opened its jaws, the sound was piercing, and each shriek was accompanied by a volley of glittering shards that shredded everything in their path.
These weren't normal A-rank monsters. Their presence alone made the air heavy, suffocating.
Six hunters fought to contain them — two of A-rank, four of B-rank.
One A-rank, a halberd-wielding brute of a man, swung desperately at the obsidian beast. Each strike sent sparks flying, but the creature's scales barely cracked. His hands bled from gripping the weapon too tightly, sweat drenching his armor.
The second A-rank, a woman with flowing white hair, kept her arms raised as she manipulated slicing winds. Each gust bent the storm of crystal shards, saving her comrades from being skewered alive. Her lips were pale, her breathing ragged — the mana drain was eating at her fast.
The B-rankers struggled even more. Their blades bounced off the scales. Their fireballs fizzled against the crystalline hide. Every movement they made carried the edge of desperation — not to win, but to survive.
And they were losing.