Chapter 1: The First Cut
The small, dilapidated hut in the edge of the jungle was swallowed by an oppressive darkness. Inside, Ren pressed his hand firmly over Hana's mouth, his own heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Silence. Then, a slow, scraping sound against the wooden door. Someone—or something—was walking toward them.
Ren leaned down, his breath hitching as he whispered into Hana's ear, "Hana, listen to me. Whatever happens, hide behind the crate and stay absolutely still. These things… they only hunt what moves."
He reached toward the side of the wooden table, his fingers closing around the cold, jagged hilt of his Vane-forged dagger. The air hummed with a faint, unstable violet energy.
CRASH!
The door splintered into pieces. A Feral stormed inside—a hunched, twisted creature with a pair of jagged horns protruding from its forehead. Its eyes glowed with a feral, blood-hungry light. It lunged at Ren with razor-sharp nails, but Ren rolled, the beast's claws tearing through the air where his chest had been just a second ago.
A stinging pain flared on Ren's cheek—a clean, bloody cut.
Before the beast could recover, Ren lunged. He poured his Vane energy into his dagger, the blade glowing with a sharp, lethal violet hue. With a swift, precise motion, he sliced through the Feral's arm. The beast let out a guttural roar, preparing to shriek—a signal to its pack.
Ren didn't hesitate. He swung again, decapitating the beast. Its body collapsed in a heap of dark, infected blood.
Ren didn't wait to catch his breath. He scrambled toward Hana, snatched her up, and rushed into the small side room, locking the door behind them.
"Ren..." Hana gasped, her voice trembling. "You... you just killed a person."
Ren turned to her, his face pale, eyes hardening. "That wasn't a person, Hana. If I hadn't killed him, he would have torn us apart. That's not a choice we have anymore."
Scene Shift: The Underground Base of T-13
Deep beneath the surface, hidden from the kingdom's prying eyes, the T-13 held their meeting. The air in the cave was thick with smoke and resentment.
In the center of the room, a member lay broken and bleeding on the stone floor. Another member, standing over him, looked at their leader—the Boss—with wide, panicked eyes.
"Boss, look at him! How did this happen?" the member shouted, gesturing to the wounded man. "I scouted that area. There were no Vaners, no guards! It was supposed to be a clean sweep!"
The Boss sat on a rusted metal chair, his shadow stretching long across the cave wall, his expression unreadable.