The wind tore through the streets of the East Ward, whipping rain into sharp, stinging needles that plastered Ren's soaked hair to his face. He ran like his legs were on fire, every heartbeat pounding with hunger, every breath a knife in his lungs. Shadows clung to him, writhing like serpents eager to lash. The golden glow of his eyes cut through the darkness—a predator unleashed.
He didn't look back. He couldn't. The memories of the raven—the taste of life slipping from his teeth—still clung to him, heavy and raw. Shame and desperation coiled together in his chest, suffocating him.
Then came the metal scent: a faint, electric tang that prickled his skin. A building rose ahead, sterile and humming with contained energy. The place was quiet, almost clinical, but Ren knew instinctively—this was a safe haven. Or as close as one could get to safety when the hunger clawed at the edges of your mind.
Inside, the smell of ozone hit him before he even stepped through the threshold.
Batteries lined the walls, small conduits humming with potential energy. And there, standing like a sentinel, was Rain—the man who was both uncle and investigator. A human, impossibly still, impossibly calm. His presence carried weight, authority, and danger all at once.
"I was expecting you," Rain said, voice low, almost bored, but each word carried a subtle charge, like static before lightning.
Ren stumbled forward, half-hunger, half-exhaustion, shadows flickering across the floor like restless smoke. "Uncle… I—" His voice broke. He didn't finish.
Rain tilted his head, studying him. "I know what you are. Three weeks ago, I filed the report. You're not a monster… you're someone trapped in a world that doesn't forgive the strong."
The shadows around Ren twitched. They tasted the electricity in the air, the potential for chaos, and quivered with anticipation.
Before he could respond, a presence slammed into the room. The air shifted, thickening like syrup. Ren's stomach twisted. An elderly figure stood there—or so it seemed. Rank B. The Hive's predator disguised in wrinkled flesh. But the aura… the cold hunger radiating off her body made the air tremble.
"You…" she hissed, eyes narrowing, voice cracking like dry wood. "You escaped. After seventy-two… seventy-two. Weak.
Pathetic."
Ren froze. Hunger and fear collided in his chest, and Rain stepped forward, hand on the Caberis strapped across his back. He didn't move yet. He observed, measured.
"I am your Grim Reaper," Rain said calmly. "Try me, and I'll ensure your death is… memorable."
The old woman laughed—a brittle, cracked sound. Her skeletal fingers clawed the air, seeking, striking. Her disguise of frailty betrayed nothing. Ren flinched as the first swipe of her talon-like hand came too fast for him to track.
Rain reacted instantly. He drew Caberis. A low hum, then a sharp crackle. Electricity arced, so bright it made Ren blink, illuminating the chamber in white-blue bursts. Caberis—not just a sword but a conductor and amplifier of pure electricity—released a controlled current that paralyzed the hybrid instantly.
The hybrid hissed, thrashing, flesh and bone smoking where the current ran through her veins. She roared, shattering tables, sending shards of concrete flying. Rain's eyes remained steady, calculating. He could increase the voltage at will, enough to kill, enough to stun, enough to control.
Ren watched, fascination and fear twisting in his gut. Shadows writhed around him, itching to lash, to react—but he held them. He couldn't afford to feed them yet; the fight wasn't his to finish.
The old woman roared again, faster this time, swiping at Rain with unnatural strength. Her Rank B status made her a deadly opponent—a step above ordinary hybrids. Yet Rain was calm, moving like a storm restrained. He shifted Caberis in a fluid motion, the blade alive with white lightning mid-flight, striking with precision.
The impact sent her sprawling. Sparks danced across her body, crackling through the floor. Every nerve in Ren's body screamed at him, every instinct urging him to join the fight, to strike. He tightened his fists, shadows coiling into black tendrils, testing the edges of their strength.
"Young one," Rain said, voice low, almost fatherly. "Step back. Learn control before you act. Rank B isn't just strong. It's precise. It punishes mistakes."
Ren's chest burned, eyes flicking gold as the hunger throbbed beneath his ribs. His shadow pulsed, alive, tasting the violence in the air. The hybrid lunged again—faster, smarter. Her talons sliced a shallow groove in the floor as she moved. Rain activated Caberis again, releasing a controlled discharge that made her stagger.
"You will not touch him," Rain growled, stepping forward, lightning dancing along the blade like liquid fire. "Not today. Not ever."
The hybrid screamed, frustration and hunger cracking through her words. "I need… I need food!"
"You'll need more than hunger to beat me," Rain said. His words were cold steel as he advanced, the sword thrumming with energy. "And you're about to find out what a human with knowledge—and power—can do to a hybrid."
The fight escalated. Sparks flew. Shadows danced around the room as Ren finally joined in, claws extended, testing the hybrid's defenses. The electricity from Caberis arced around her, feeding off her strikes, leaving her vulnerable, human in her overconfidence.
A claw came at Ren's shoulder. He dodged instinctively, shadows slicing the air, coiling around her wrist and pinning it. The hybrid shrieked, struggling, but Rain's sword surged with pure electrical force, leaving her reeling.
"You've eaten seventy-two humans," Rain said coldly. "Yet you are weak. Why?"
The hybrid gasped, staggering. Rage and exhaustion mixing. "I… I am… too old?!" Her voice cracked.
"Patience," Rain murmured. "You're being taught a lesson. Control is stronger than instinct. Even for you."
Ren watched, breathing ragged, shadows retracting slightly. For the first time, he understood what it meant to fight with someone else's strength guiding you. He could have fed, could have lost control, but he didn't. He observed. He learned.
With a final surge, Rain released the full potential of Caberis, a clean stream of white lightning engulfing the hybrid. She collapsed, her body smoking, rank B power neutralized, beaten but alive.
Ren's shadow coiled lazily around his arms, calm for the first time in days. Gold faded to normal, hunger receding, leaving only exhaustion and awe.
Rain turned to him, eyes steady, unreadable. "Today you watched. Tomorrow, you will act. Your hunger… your power… is a tool. Not a curse. Not a weapon… unless you decide to make it one."
Ren swallowed, trembling. He wanted to speak, to ask, to rage—but nothing came. Only the pulse of his shadow, the faint hum of electricity in the air, and the realization that the world he'd thought he understood had just widened by leagues.
Rain sheathed Caberis, now quiet, inert, harmless until needed again. He placed a hand on Ren's shoulder. "You're safe for now. But never forget—the world doesn't forgive weakness. Even someone as strong as you… even me… is tested every day. And the Hive never forgets."
The room was silent except for the drip of water from the ceiling and the faint buzz of the remaining electrical conduits. Outside, the storm raged, but inside, Ren breathed, waited, and understood.
For the first time, he wasn't just hungry. He was ready.