Ren stood on the rooftop of a crumbling apartment building, her golden visor reflecting the city lights of Nocturne. The Nyara Driver pulsed faintly at her waist, like the steady beat of a second heart. She was still trying to process what had happened—how, in a single night, her life had shifted from caring for strays to hunting monsters that stalked humanity.
The first Feraloid she fought—the panther—was gone, dissolved into ash after she struck with her finishing move:
"Nyara Impact—Moon Fang!"
Her clawed gauntlet had torn through the beast's chest, releasing a burst of light that shattered the corrupted spirit inside. The power had scared her as much as it thrilled her.
But the city didn't sleep, and neither did the Feraloids.
---
That night, she followed another wounded cry into the underground subway tunnels. The air reeked of damp concrete and rusted metal. The echoes of her boots mixed with distant growls.
From the shadows, three Feraloids emerged—this time twisted versions of a wolf, a rat, and a serpent.
Their bodies gleamed with armor-like plates, eyes burning like embers. They moved in eerie coordination, cornering her like prey.
Ren's heart raced.
She wasn't ready for three.
But the Driver purred.
"Survive. Adapt. Strike."
And she did.
The wolf lunged first. Ren ducked low, her tail whipping around to strike its legs, sending it crashing into a wall. The rat darted in, razor teeth snapping. She twisted, her claws catching sparks off its armored hide. The serpent tried to coil around her, metallic scales grinding against her armor.
Her instincts sharpened—like she could hear their movements before they struck. The cat within her awakened.
With a furious spin, she slashed across all three, the impact sending them staggering back. Her body moved faster than thought—rolling, leaping, striking, claws flashing under the dim flicker of the subway lights.
At last, she pinned the wolf, driving her gauntlet into its chest. Light burst through its body, shattering it to dust.
The serpent hissed and retreated, dragging the rat with it into the tunnels.
Ren stood panting, trembling, staring at her clawed hands.
She was changing.
---
Later, in a candlelit chamber far beneath the city, cloaked figures of the Bestia Order gathered around a massive stone idol shaped like a beast's skull.
At their head was Lord Veyra, the self-proclaimed Prophet of Beasts. His long white hair draped over feral armor, his eyes glowing like a predator's.
"The Cat Rider has awakened," he growled. "The Nyara Driver was never meant to resurface. If she masters it, the Beast King's resurrection will be delayed."
A tall general stepped forward—Garras, the Lion Feraloid, his mane of steel blades rattling as he bowed.
"Then let me hunt her," he said with a savage grin. "Let me break the stray kitten before she grows fangs."
The Order roared in agreement.
---
Ren didn't know it yet. But the war had only just begun.