The clash of steel against bone rang out through the tunnel, but the monster was faster than its size suggested. In a blur of motion, the Abomination spun, whipping its massive, corded tail with the force of a falling tree. Henry caught the blow on the flat of his blade, but the sheer momentum sent him skidding backward, his boots carving grooves into the muck until he slammed into the damp stone wall with a bone-jarring thud.
Jack didn't hesitate. He slammed a fresh drum into his Tommy gun and unleashed a leaden hail. "Hey, ugly! Eyes on me!"
The Rat King roared, turning its focus toward the flamboyant marksman. It coiled its powerful haunches, preparing to launch itself at Jack, but its body suddenly seized. It stayed frozen in mid-air for a fraction of a second before crashing back to the ground, twitching.
Thin, wavy lines of black ink began to crawl up the monster's legs like parasitic vines. A deep, lightless puddle of Black Ichor expanded beneath it, bubbling with a life of its own. From the depths of the sludge, hundreds of small, shadowy shapes began to emerge—rats made of smoke and liquid black ichor, their eyes glowing a dull, ghostly gray.
They didn't just attack; they flowed. The black-vermin swarmed the King, crawling into its ears, its wounds, and its gaping maw. The monster's muffled shrieks echoed from inside its own throat as the Ichor-rats tore their way through its vitals. Within minutes, the ten-foot beast collapsed, hollowed out from the inside. The black liquid hissed, evaporating into a fine mist along with the remains of the swarm.
Jack lowered his gun, the barrel still glowing a faint orange. He stared at the shriveled husk of the monster. "You know, Henry... I've seen a lot of things in my time, but that is one genuinely creepy ability you've got there."
Henry stepped out from the shadows of the alcove, wiping a smudge of soot from his pale cheek. He let out a dry, cynical laugh. "That's rich coming from a five-hundred-year-old parasite who hops between bodies like they're seasonal wardrobes."
Jack chuckled, adjusting his top hat with a gloved finger. "Touché. Well, this was certainly a bonding experience, but we both smell like the bowels of a dying god now."
They made their way back to the surface, the cool night air of Blackridge City acting as a welcome relief after the suffocating rot of the sewers. As they reached the mouth of a quiet alleyway, Jack slowed his pace. He looked at Henry, his playful expression softening into something uncharacteristically serious.
"Take a bit of advice from a guy who's watched empires rise and fall," Jack said, his voice dropping an octave. "Those Heroes—the 'runts' you're so worried about? Most of them probably look up to you. You're only two years their senior, but in the eyes of the Academy and the military, you're practically a legend."
Henry stared at the flickering gaslight of the street corner, his jaw tight. He let out a slow, tired sigh. "Let's just see how it goes. I have to check in at Starfall by dawn."
"I'm sure you'll be the picture of hospitality," Jack teased, the mischief returning to his eyes. He gave a mock salute, stepped back into a patch of darkness, and simply... vanished.
Henry stood alone for a moment, the weight of the night settling on his shoulders. He walked back to his hotel, the silence of the city streets a stark contrast to the chaos of the sewers. After a long, scalding shower to scrub away the stench of the King, he laid his black katana on the nightstand.
Henry then went to sleep.
Next Morning 6:00 AM
The morning air was sharp and tasted of salt as Henry stepped onto the cobblestones of the town square. It was 6:00 AM, the hour of the hungover and the hardworking. Dressed in a black shirt, dark trousers, and a heavy obsidian-colored long coat that billowed behind him, he looked more like a shadow than a student.
He approached the Teleportation Gate—a massive arch of ancient, etched stone humming with latent energy.
"Starfall Academy," Henry said, sliding his ID across the gatekeeper's desk.
The man didn't even look up. He tapped a sequence into a brass console, and the blue runes etched into the stone flickered, bleeding into a deep, celestial violet. The air within the arch rippled like a disturbed pond. Henry stepped through, and for a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist.
He emerged on the island. The transition was a slap of cold, sea-misted wind. Starfall Academy loomed before him—not just a school, but a sprawling Gothic fortress of white stone and soaring spires that seemed to pierce the very clouds.
At the main gates, a wizened watchman leaning on a cane squinted at him. "Master Remington," the old man wheezed, his voice like dry parchment. "Don't bother heading to the dorms. The Headmistress has been asking for you since the first bell."
Henry stopped, his shoulders dropping just an inch. "Of course. God forbid the day actually starts well."
He crossed the manicured grounds, his boots clicking rhythmically against the marble floors of the main hall until he reached the heavy oak doors of the Headmistress's sanctum.
Inside, Morgana was a vision of severe elegance. She stood behind a mahogany desk, draped in a sharp, form-fitting black tuxedo jacket with wide, silk-lined lapels. Beneath it, a white corset-style top gave her an air of both Victorian grace and modern lethality. Her jet-black hair was a silk curtain falling down her back.
"Miss Morgana," Henry said, leaning against the doorframe. "I assume I'm in trouble, or you've run out of people to annoy."
"Remington," she replied, her voice a cool alto. She didn't look up from her paperwork. "You and the Student Council President have been selected for a special assignment. You will be conducting the orientation tour for the incoming first-years."
Henry's eyes narrowed. "I'm a hunter, Morgana. Not a travel agent."
"And yet, you are a hunter with a reputation," she countered, finally looking up. Her eyes were piercing. "The Board wants the 'Heroes' to see what a senior student actually looks like. Not just a legend, but a reminder of the standard we expect."
"Hey there, Gramps! I heard you were back from the gutters!"
The door swung open, and a girl with hair as white as fresh snow bounced into the room. Diana, the Student Council President, wore the Academy uniform with a level of polished perfection that made Henry feel even grubbier. She grinned at him, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Guess you're my partner for the 'Welcome Wagon,' huh?"
Henry closed his eyes and looked at Morgana, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "Oh, what a wonderful opportunity you have blessed me with, Headmistress. Truly, I am humbled. I shall exceed all expectations in guiding these toddlers and their 'Divine Marks' through the hallways. What an honor. I might even bake them cookies."
Morgana rubbed her temples, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Don't act like a spoiled child, Henry. Do as I say for God's sake, or I'll have your hunting license suspended for the semester. Diana—take him."
"With pleasure!" Diana chirped. She grabbed Henry's arm with a grip that belied her small frame and began hauling him toward the door. "Come on, Gramps! The carriages are already arriving at the courtyard. You've got to put on your 'happy' face!"
"This is my happy face," Henry grunted as he was dragged into the hallway.