# Chapter 3: The First Hunt
Kael moved through the ruins with a confidence he had never known before. Every step was precise, every breath measured. The Codex throbbed within him like a living heartbeat, guiding him, whispering in a language older than the world itself. The ruins were no longer just crumbling buildings—they were a map, alive with prey, opportunities, and power waiting to be taken.
The streets were silent, save for the distant moan of wind through twisted metal. Shadows stretched across the broken asphalt, concealing scavengers, mutants, and beasts alike. Kael's eyes, glowing faintly with the crimson light of the Codex, swept the terrain, reading it with a clarity that bordered on supernatural.
Ahead, a flicker of movement caught his attention. A small pack of mutated creatures—humanoid but twisted, their limbs uneven, eyes unnaturally sharp—prowled the remains of a collapsed overpass. They had not noticed him yet.
Kael's pulse quickened, but this time it was not fear. It was anticipation, hunger. He tested the Codex's power. Focusing, he raised his hand and touched a nearby pile of rubble. The concrete hummed and crumbled, streams of energy feeding into him. Strength coursed through his veins, and the glow of his eyes intensified.
The creatures spotted him at last. They hissed and surged forward, their movements jerky and unnatural. Kael grinned, swinging the steel pipe in a wide arc. He moved like water, fluid and unrelenting. The first creature collided with the pipe, thrown backward by a force that would have shattered bone in another man. The Codex pulsed, devouring the residual energy from the impact, and Kael felt it course into him, reinforcing his muscles and sharpening his reflexes.
One by one, he dispatched the pack. Each strike, each dodge, each movement was guided by the Codex. With every fallen creature, he felt his strength swell, the power of ruin integrating into his very being.
When the last of the mutants fell, Kael breathed heavily, but the exhilaration coursing through him was intoxicating. He could feel the Codex reacting to his actions. *More… destruction… more… power…* it whispered.
Kael sank to his knees, placing a hand on the cracked asphalt beneath him. The city responded as if acknowledging him. Tiny cracks spread, dust lifting from the ground, feeding into the Codex, filling him with a sensation he could barely comprehend: growth.
*Skill Progress: Devour Debris—Level 2*
He understood now. The Codex did not merely grant power—it demanded it. Every scrap of ruin, every fallen creature, every act of destruction would feed him, and in return, he would rise. Survival was no longer the goal. Dominance was.
Kael rose to his feet, the pipe feeling lighter in his hands, yet charged with latent power. The ruins whispered to him, guiding him toward the remnants of human civilization and beyond—toward the weak who would become tools, and the strong who would become rivals.
And somewhere, far away, Darric's voice lingered in Kael's memory: *"You're too weak, Kael."*
A smirk spread across his face. Weakness was gone. The hunt had only just begun.
From the shadows, Kael felt a presence—something different from the mutants he had just faced. It moved with purpose, its aura sharp, almost human, yet filled with a dangerous edge. The Codex vibrated within him, responding to it.
*Another challenge…* it whispered.
Kael's crimson eyes narrowed. He adjusted his stance, ready to face whatever lurked in the ruins. The night was alive with possibilities, and he intended to claim every last one.
The first hunt had ended. But the war for the ruins—and
for his rise—had only just begun.