The group scattered in different directions, panic seizing their limbs.
But before they could find escape, the second hunter dropped in front of Alexei. His axe sliced upward in a blur, cutting through Alexei's lower body, cleaving him in half.
Blood sprayed across the ground as his upper torso fell, eyes wide with rage even in death.
The hunter had chosen him deliberately. Alexei was the strongest among them, and so he was the first to fall.
The others bolted in new directions, sprinting in raw terror.
The hunters followed, tentacles flaring wildly, their screams cutting through the ruins. The sound was not only pain. It was a victory. It was nourishment. Their cries echoed through the streets, into the hearts of those still alive.
Only ten seconds had passed since the first hunter's leap.
And already, two were dead.
The rest ran harder than they had ever run in their lives. Each breath burned their lungs. Each step was fueled by instinct, adrenaline, and something more—something unnatural that drove them forward, the very same force that made survival possible.
And then, in silence, every runner realized the truth.
The messages were right. We are being hunted. This is a hunting ground.
Sera's breath hitched as she darted through debris, Xavier close at her side. Her whisper trembled.
"How many are out there? Am I going to die? What am I supposed to do… die fighting?"
The thought of suicide never crossed her mind. Or rather, it tried to—but vanished almost immediately. As though something chemical, something unnatural, had forced it out of her head. The Vexari had ensured it.
Runners were never tagged with tracking devices. The Vexari didn't want an easy hunt. They wanted spectacle. They wanted prey that believed they still had a chance.
Elsewhere, a Starter Hunter crept silently.
A lone runner had taken refuge behind a tree, crouched low in the bushes, chest rising in shallow bursts. The hunter's gauntlet glimmered faintly with Zark energy as his tentacles writhed in anticipation.
He struck.
With pure instinct, the runner twisted aside just as the gauntlet's blade pierced the air.
Tavi Ferrari—with slicked black hair, slightly waved, and olive-toned skin marked by tattoos on both arms and across his neck—stood at about 5'11". In his mid-twenties, lean and muscular, he carried the hardened edge of a man forged in violence. Once an Italian mobster, he had fought his way out of a collapsing prison in Sardinia during the invasion, bolting from his hiding place with eyes burning in fear. Yet his body moved with feral desperation, driven not by panic, but by the instinct to survive.
He vaulted over fallen logs, twisted through trees, dodging plasma bolts that screamed past him. His movements were a display of acrobatics, raw instinct born of a life running from both the law and death.
But it wasn't enough.
The hunter blurred, moving with impossible speed. In an instant, he appeared at Tavi's blind spot.
The kill was clean.
Tavi's head rolled across the dirt, his body collapsing a second later.
Fifteen minutes into the hunt. Three runners were already dead.
The ruins seemed alive, shadows stretching and twisting with purpose. Dust swirled in the air, debris shifting as though the city itself was in sync with the hunt.
The survivors scattered, hiding where they could, running when they had to. The hunters did not pursue relentlessly. They paced themselves, savoring the spectacle, dragging the fear out of every second.
Kaito darted between collapsed walls, his body moving with precision. Every muscle memory from his time swimming through the submerged ruins of Tokyo came alive here. His strides were swift, his motions sharp, his balance perfect even across broken ground.
Amara, not far behind, vaulted corroded buses and leapt lightly from rusted frames. Her mind raced as fast as her body.
"If we split too far, we're finished. I need to find someone. Anyone. If I stay alone, I'm dead."
She pushed forward, breath ragged, eyes sharp, weaving between rubble and shadow. Minutes later, she spotted Kaito in the distance. Relief flickered in her chest, but she didn't call out. To make a sound would be to summon death.
She followed quietly, dashing between cover, always scanning, always wary.
Nyah stayed close to Jalen.
Her body trembled, fear etched into her every movement. She was no fighter. She had been captured because of her knowledge as a medic, not because she could withstand terror like this.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.
Jalen slid down beside her, one hand pressing firmly against her shoulder. His voice was sharp, low. "Quiet. They're closing in."
"Oh my God… oh my God…" she whispered, trying—and failing—to steady herself.
Jalen didn't waste time. He yanked her toward the ruins of a building and dragged her down into its basement. Dust fell in light streams from the ceiling as they ducked into an empty room.
"Stay here. Don't make a sound," he hissed.
But the hunters were already moving.
They weren't heading toward Jalen and Nyah. Not because they had seen them—but because they had sensed and emotional burst.
Amara had been trying to close in on Kaito. She saw the hunters shift toward him, and her heart lurched.
Her pace quickened.
The hunters were too fast. She could never reach him in time.
Her voice tore free anyway, carried by the wind. "Run! Run, Kaito! They're coming!"
Kaito's head snapped around at the sound. He didn't hesitate. He sprinted harder, his body a blur.
Amara swallowed hard. She had drawn attention to herself.
Too late.
The two hunters split. One pursued Kaito. The other, Amara.
An hour into the hunt. Two hours remained.
Xavier and Sera tore through an alley. His lungs burned, every stride rattling his chest. Beside him, Sera stumbled, her steps uneven.
"Don't run blind!" Xavier barked. "Keep your angles tight. Conserve your energy! The messages on the walls said Stay alive for the next hunt. That means it has to end. We just need to last long enough."
Sera gritted her teeth, nodding.
A plasma bolt screamed past them, slamming into the wall ahead. Xavier shoved her sideways, both of them crashing to the ground.
Sera's ankle twisted under her. Pain shot through her leg, and she cried out.
"I can't—my ankle," she gasped. "It's dislocated, not broken."
Xavier grabbed her around the waist, hauling her up. "Lets move! They're almost on us. Don't you dare stop now."
Her eyes burned with pain, sweat streaking down her temple. "I know what to do. Twist it back. Now."
Xavier's eyes widened. "Here? You'll scream. They'll hear."
"You want me to keep slowing you down, or do you want me to run?" she snapped, trembling. "Do it. Now."
He swallowed hard, nodded, and knelt. His fingers gripped her ankle. "On three. One—"
He didn't wait for two. He twisted sharply.
Sera's scream ripped through the alley, raw and guttural.
The hunter heard. Tentacles flared as he closed in.
A plasma bolt shrieked toward them, blasting the wall behind into molten stone. Sparks rained around them.
The hunter's shadow stretched at the mouth of the alley, gauntlet glowing.
"Move!" Xavier shouted, hauling Sera up again.
Her teeth clenched, body shaking, but the joint held. They staggered into a run, Xavier half-carrying her as plasma bolts scorched the walls around them.
At the last second, Xavier shoved her into a gap between two collapsed walls. They slid through, scrambling out into another street.
The hunter roared, his tentacles snapping in frustration.
"I should've died with her… No—I can't. Not now. Not like this. I have to make it," he hissed to himself, sprinting into the ruins.
Behind him, Kira's silence burned.