Year 3000.The world had already ended—yet somehow, its ruins still refused to stay quiet.
A sudden explosion ripped through the hollow silence of the once-great city known as New Metro, sending concrete dust swirling into the air. Broken skyscrapers leaned toward each other like exhausted giants, creaking with every gust of wind.
"I'm gonna kill you!" a voice shrieked.
The owner of the voice came stomping through the rubble: a man somewhere in his thirties with spiked rainbow-colored hair, silver-decorated teeth, and enough ego to power a small generator. People called him Blade Boy—a name he proudly assigned to himself, repeatedly, to anyone within screaming distance.
Alex—short for Alexander (black hair, sharp green eyes, 6'1, currently full of regret)—barely dodged the barrage of steel shards Blade Boy hurled with every dramatic swing of his arms. The shards sliced through the air like angry frisbees.
Alex dived behind an overturned car for cover, skidding across broken asphalt. His breath came out in harsh gasps, his heart pounding like it was trying to escape.
A fresh cut seared across his left cheek. Warm blood slid down his jawline in a thin trail.
"Shit," he muttered, pressing his palm against the wound. "Great. Another scar for my collection."
He peeked over the scorched car door, eyes scanning the ruins. New Metro was massive—twisted metal, collapsed roads, shattered billboards. Somewhere in this concrete graveyard, there had to be an escape route.
At the back of his mind, a traitorous thought whispered:
Where's the Soul Crawler when you need them…?(Not that wishing for him ever helped.)
"Come out, come out, rat!" Blade Boy yelled, stomping in circles like a toddler with weapons. "I'm the God here now!"
Alex ducked as another razor-sharp shard embedded itself into the car above his head.
"Yeah," Alex muttered under his breath, "a god of bad fashion and worse decisions."
He sucked in a breath, readying himself to move—
Because if the Soul Crawler wasn't coming…
He was going to have to survive Blade Boy on his own.
Blade Boy slammed his blades into the nearby cars, slicing through them like they were made of paper instead of metal. Sparks burst everywhere, lighting up the ruined street in chaotic flashes.
CLANG—SCREEECH—
Another car split open like a cheap soda can.
Alex winced. At this rate, Blade Boy would reach his hiding spot in less than five seconds.
He had to think. Fast.
Blade Boy let out a wild, deranged scream and swung both arms toward the overturned car Alex hid behind. The blades cut through the air—
but Alex was already gone.
In the split second before impact, he rolled out the opposite side, hitting the ground hard before scrambling to his feet. He sprinted behind a collapsed wall, boots splashing through shallow puddles of grimy rainwater.
Then he spotted it—
An old sewer grate. Half-broken. Partially ripped open. Gaping like the mouth of a hungry beast.
Perfect.
Without hesitation, Alex dropped to the ground and slipped inside.
The stench hit him instantly—like rotten trash mixed with expired despair. It slapped him across the face so hard he almost gagged.
He kept moving anyway.
Survival beat dignity.
Dirty water splashed against his legs as he ran deeper into the tunnel. The sounds of the ruined city above faded, swallowed by the narrow walls and dripping pipes.
His heartbeat echoed in the darkness.
He didn't care about the filth.He didn't care about the smell.
What mattered was getting away.
He pressed one hand to the wall to steady himself as he moved further into the pitch black.
"Okay," he whispered to himself, breathing hard. "Great plan, Alex. Sewer escape. Classic. Now all you have to do is not die of infection."
It took Alex nearly an hour to reach his safe place—a hidden chamber buried deep within the labyrinth of sewer tunnels. He had memorized the turns, the pipes, the rusted doors; anyone else would get lost or die of the smell long before reaching it.
The chamber was cramped, damp, and smelled faintly like wet concrete mixed with old socks…
…but it was home.
Old mattresses—stuffed with whatever he could salvage—lined the floor. Shelves made from broken planks held cans of food, water bottles, scavenged batteries, and tools. A torn sofa, its stuffing sticking out like wounded guts, sat pushed against the wall like an ancient throne from a world that no longer existed.
Alex dropped onto the worn cushions, letting his body sag with relief. He grabbed the battered first-aid kit from beside the sofa and flipped it open. His hands shook slightly as he cleaned the cut on his cheek. The sting made him hiss through his teeth, but pain was good—it meant he hadn't died in an alleyway or been shredded by Blade Boy.
After wrapping the wound with a strip of cloth, he lay back on his makeshift bed. The exhaustion hit him all at once, heavy and suffocating. His arms fell limp. His eyes slid shut.
Sleep didn't gently take him.
It dragged him under.
He dreamed again.
He stood inside a crowded bus, gripping the metal rail above his head. The air smelled like perfume, sweat, and the faint scent of pastries someone had bought earlier. Everything outside the window looked normal, just another busy day in New Metro.
Until the driver slammed the brakes.
People toppled into each other. Bags flew. Someone shouted.
Alex pressed his face against the glass—
—and the world outside was on fire.
Chaos.
People screaming.
Cars crashing into each other.
The sky burning in shades of orange and hellish red.
He stepped out of the bus along with dozens of panicking passengers, heart hammering as he turned his gaze upward.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of blazing meteorites streaked across the sky in burning lines. Some struck skyscrapers, blowing the tops off in showers of molten steel. Others slammed into the streets, turning cars and bodies into debris.
The ground shook beneath his feet.
Sirens blared.
People ran, cried, prayed—
Alex tried to run too, searching for somewhere—anywhere—to hide. But a meteorite hit close by, exploding with enough force to lift him off the ground.
The shockwave swallowed him.
Darkness followed.
"Alex."
A voice cut through the void.
He blinked awake.
Jean's face came into focus—brown hair tied tightly back, blue eyes sharp and filled with worry. She knelt beside his bed, setting down newly gathered supplies onto a wooden crate.
Alex breathed out slowly, chest still tight.
"Jean…" Alex whispered, his voice rough.
"It seems you're having that nightmare again," she said gently, her expression softening.
"I…" He tried to explain—maybe say it felt more real each time—but Jean lifted a hand, stopping him.
"No need," she murmured. "We all have the same nightmares."
The chamber was dim, lit only by a single candle stuck into a rusted metal can. Its flame flickered shakily, casting thin shadows across the damp stone walls.
Jean began sorting their scavenged cans into organized rows inside old cardboard boxes. She moved with practiced care—quiet, focused, always making sure nothing went to waste.
"Tomorrow," she said as she packed, "I'm joining Ashlyn and Mina. We're heading to the abandoned factory in the south—Umbrella Inc. They might still have medical supplies left. We'll be gone for a few days."
Alex sat up so fast the mattress squeaked in protest.
"You do know," he said, voice sharp, "that walking south means crossing paths with Soul Walkers."
He didn't need to describe them.Ghost-like creatures.Drifting between ruins like silent predators.Feeding on human souls as easily as breathing.
Even the bravest scavengers avoided them.Even the gangs stayed away.
Jean tied her hair tighter, unfazed."Yeah, I know. But we found a blind spot in their territory. Ashlyn and Mina already checked it out."
Ashlyn and Mina.Jean's college friends.Two tough, resourceful women who somehow managed to keep their kindness even after the world collapsed.
To Alex, they felt like the older sisters he never had. The kind who argued with him, fed him, yelled at him, and protected him all at once.
He swallowed hard.
"Can I come?"
Jean paused.Gave him a small, regretful smile.Then shook her head.
"No. Someone needs to watch this place. Keep it safe for when we come back."
Alex lowered his gaze. He hated the answer—but he understood it.
Jean closed their supply box, sealed it with tape, and blew out the candle. The room fell into near-darkness, illuminated only by faint blue cracks of moonlight through the sewer grates above.
The night passed quietly.
Too quietly.
The kind of quiet before something in the world remembers it's not done with them yet.
*****
By morning, Alex found himself wandering through one of the old buildings connected to the sewer network—moving slowly, carefully, his ears tuned to every tiny echo. He needed fresh air, a quick scouting check, and maybe a moment to clear his head.
Instead, he found trouble.
He stepped over broken glass and collapsed beams, the early morning light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. Dust floated in the air like ghostly snow, and long shadows stretched across the hallway.
He had only taken a few quiet steps when he heard it—
A slow.Mocking.Clap.
"Well, well… look who crawled out of his hole."
Alex froze.
Blade Boy stood at the far end of the hallway, leaning against a crooked doorframe like he owned the place. His spiked rainbow hair shimmered under the dim light, garish and chaotic. His silver-toothed grin gleamed as wide as ever, dripping amusement.
He looked comfortable.Relaxed.Like he had been waiting for Alex to appear.
"Thought you could hide forever, rat?" Blade Boy taunted, tilting his head. "I told you—I'm the god of this city now."
Alex clenched his jaw, muttering under his breath, "You're no god…"
But his voice barely traveled a few feet.
Blade Boy's grin widened."Oh? Then why are you shaking?"
Alex stiffened. He hadn't even realized he was trembling.
Blade Boy took a step forward.
Metal scraped against metal as his weapon formed—long, razor-sharp blades emerging from the palms of his hands like extensions of his bones. He twirled one lazily, leveling it at Alex's chest like a playful accusation.
"Come on," Blade Boy crooned, voice sickeningly cheerful. "Let's continue our little game."
Alex didn't hesitate.
He turned—
—and ran.
Boots slamming against the floor.Breath sharp and ragged.Heart pounding so hard it felt like it might punch a hole through his ribs.
Blade Boy's excited laughter echoed behind him.
"Oh YES—run for me!"
He sprinted down the ruined hallway, boots slipping on loose chunks of plaster and stone. The entire building tilted slightly to one side—a permanent reminder of the meteor that had blasted half of it apart years ago. As Alex reached the slanted part of the floor, his foot slid out from under him, sending him skidding dangerously close to a shattered window that opened into a forty-foot drop.
The wind howled through the broken frame.
Behind him, Blade Boy laughed—high-pitched, excited, almost childlike.
"Run, rat! Ruuuun!"
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Shing!
Pain exploded through Alex's right arm. He stumbled as Blade Boy's spinning blade sliced into him, carving a hot, burning line across his skin. Blood splattered across the dusty floor tiles.
"Got you!" Blade Boy cheered from behind him.
Alex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He grabbed his bleeding arm, trying to steady himself, forcing his legs to keep moving.
The hallway shook—literally shook—as Blade Boy charged after him, blades scraping the walls with a metallic shriek that sent showers of sparks raining down like orange fireflies.
Alex barreled toward the stairwell, feet barely catching each step before the next one. He nearly fell twice, breath ragged, vision flickering at the edges from pain.
From somewhere above, Blade Boy's twisted voice echoed through the broken floors:
"You can't run forever, Alex! I'll catch you sooner or later!"
But Alex didn't look back.
He couldn't.Looking meant slowing down.Slowing down meant dying.
He wasn't ready for that.Not yet.
Alex burst out onto the top floor—lungs burning, arm throbbing violently with each heartbeat. He shoved open a crooked metal door at the end of the hall—
—and froze.
His stomach plummeted.
There was nowhere else to run.
Only a collapsed balcony.A shattered skybridge.And a forty-story drop straight into the ruins below.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Slow.Confident.Mocking.
Blade Boy stepped through the doorway, spinning a blade between his fingers like he was warming up for a magic trick. His silver grin widened as he saw Alex trapped at the ledge.
"Awww… look at you," Blade Boy crooned in a singsong voice. "Cornered like a scared little rabbit."
Alex clenched his jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear. Even though his heartbeat felt like it was trying to escape his chest.
Blade Boy tilted his head, eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.
"You know… you don't have to die, Alex."
Alex stayed silent. He didn't trust himself to speak without screaming.
Blade Boy drew closer, savoring each step like a predator walking toward its meal.
"You're a pretty boy," he said, voice dropping into something unsettlingly soft. "Soft skin, nice eyes…"His grin sharpened. "Maybe I'll let you stay alive. You can be my little slave. Fetch my food. Warm my bed. Worship your new god."
Alex's stomach twisted violently. His hands trembled with disgust. He bit down so hard on his teeth he tasted iron.
Blade Boy chuckled at the reaction.
"Oh? Not interested? Shame. I thought you'd make a cute pet."
He lifted one blade, pointing the edge toward Alex's throat—slowly, almost lovingly.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to—"
HOOOOOOWWWWWWL…
The sound sliced through the air like a blade of cold wind.
Deep.Echoing.Not human.
Alex's entire body went rigid.
A second wail followed—sharper, ghostly—like metal scraping bone, layered with distant whispers that had no mouths to speak.
Everyone in the city knew that sound.
A Soul Walker.
Blade Boy's grin vanished instantly.
His pupils shrank.His hands trembled.He snapped his head toward the ruined hallway behind him.
"…Shit," he whispered.
The Soul Walker's wail echoed again.
Closer.Much closer.
The air grew colder—so cold Alex could see his breath fog in front of him. The wind died completely, as if the world itself was holding still. Even the drifting dust froze midair, suspended in the unnatural silence.
Then it came.
A second wail—sharper, louder—ripped through the building, shaking the cracked walls and sending loose bricks tumbling from above. The sound crawled down Alex's spine like icy fingers.
Blade Boy spun around, blades raised, trying to locate the source. But Soul Walkers never gave warnings. They appeared when the air became too still… when the light bent just a little wrong… when the shadows seemed to move on their own.
A soft, rasping whisper drifted behind Blade Boy—a voice that belonged to nothing living.
Blade Boy's breath hitched. "No… no, no… not now—"
Something pale slid out from the darkness behind him. A long, skeletal arm—like stretched bone wrapped in thin, gray skin. It moved silently, gliding through the air as if underwater.
Alex's eyes widened in horror.
The arm wrapped around Blade Boy's shoulder.
Blade Boy screamed. Not the confident, mocking scream from earlier—but a high, raw cry of terror.
He swung wildly, blades slicing through empty air. But physical weapons couldn't touch a Soul Walker.
The creature leaned forward, its head brushing the side of his face. There was no mouth—only a hollow void where a face should be. A chilling wind rushed out of that emptiness, pulling at Blade Boy's skin as if trying to peel it away.
"Get—off—ME!" Blade Boy shrieked, stumbling backward.
The Soul Walker's grip tightened.
His skin started to gray.
His veins darkened, turning black as tar under the surface. His body trembled violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream as the creature began pulling the soul straight out of him—thin, pale threads of light tearing from his chest, like smoke being ripped away from fire.
Blade Boy dropped to his knees. His rainbow hair dulled. His eyes rolled back, turning white.
Alex could only watch—frozen, horrified—as the Soul Walker lifted Blade Boy into the air. His body convulsed once… twice… and then the creature's long fingers snapped his spine with a sickening crack.
His lifeless body hit the floor like an empty shell.
A moment later, it crumbled—skin collapsing inward, muscles dissolving, turning into gray dust that scattered across the broken tiles.
The rooftop fell silent.
Then the Soul Walker slowly twisted its hollow, featureless face toward Alex.
Alex's entire body locked up. The creature's empty gaze felt like falling into a dark pit—cold, endless, and hungry. His breath caught in his throat. His legs trembled so violently he almost collapsed.
The Soul Walker drifted toward him without a sound, its long limbs moving like stretched shadows.
"No… stay back…" Alex whispered, stepping backward until his heels touched the very edge of the ruined rooftop.
But the creature didn't stop.
It lunged.
A blur of pale limbs and rising cold.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the sharp, ripping pain of his soul being torn from his body. He braced himself for the end—his final thought a mix of fear and relief.
But the pain never came.
The icy wind halted.
Confused, Alex opened his eyes.
The Soul Walker's clawed hand hovered one inch from his chest—frozen mid-strike, its fingers trembling but unable to move forward. The creature was inches from him, close enough that he could feel its freezing breath against his skin.
It wasn't attacking.
It was studying him.
The creature's head tilted slowly, unnaturally, as if examining something invisible inside him. Its hollow void of a face leaned closer… closer… until Alex could hear the faint echo of whispers swirling inside its empty skull.
Then, in a voice like layered whispers of the dead, it spoke.
A single, warped word:
"Chosen… One…"
Alex's heart stopped.
The Soul Walker's body quivered, its shape flickering like a glitching shadow. It backed away from him—something no Soul Walker ever did—its limbs folding as if it were bowing or submitting to something unseen.
Alex barely had time to process the horror and confusion twisting inside him before the creature's form cracked like shattered glass.
Its body dissolved in a swirl of black fog, scattering into the air and leaving the rooftop eerily silent once more.
Alex stood alone—shaking, breath uneven, blood dripping from his wounded arm—trying to understand what he had just heard.
The words echoed long after the Soul Walker dissolved into the cold morning air.
Alex didn't move.
He couldn't.
He stood rooted on the rooftop as icy wind brushed against his skin. His injured arm throbbed, but it felt far away—like it belonged to someone else. His mind was blank, refusing to process what had just happened. The cold crept into his bones, numbing him, but he didn't even shiver.
The Soul Walker had left him alive.
It had spoken to him.
It had called him something impossible.
Chosen One…?
He didn't know how long he stood there—maybe a minute, maybe longer. Only when his knees nearly buckled did he finally snap out of the frozen shock. His breath returned in shallow gasps. His heart hammered again.
"I… I need to go," he whispered to himself.
He forced his legs to move and rushed toward the stairwell, nearly slipping on the broken floor. He ran down two levels, boots slamming against cracked tiles, his mind still foggy.
Turning a corner too fast, he stumbled out into a wide hall—
—and froze.
A group of men blocked the passage. All of them wearing torn, mismatched armor patched together from metal sheets and car parts. Their skin had strange, scaly patches—dark green and rough, spreading across their arms and necks. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, thin and narrow like reptiles.
The Riptile Gang.
Alex's stomach dropped.
They weren't just scavengers.
They were cannibals.
One man stepped forward—their right hand, a bulky figure with thick, crocodile-like scales running down his arms. The others called him Gator Spine because of the sharp ridges forming along his back.
Gator Spine's lips curled into a slow, hungry grin when he recognized Alex's terrified face.
"Well, look what crawled into our nest," he growled. "Fresh meat."
Alex took a step back, heart racing. Every story he'd heard about them rushed into his head—their love for hunting the weak, their habit of skinning victims to eat later, their unmatched smell for fear.
Gator Spine flicked his tongue like a lizard tasting the air. "He's alone. Injured." He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. "Catch him."
The gang members hissed in agreement, their scaled feet scraping against the floor as they lunged.
Alex spun around to run—
But he already knew one thing:
If the Soul Walker hadn't killed him…
The Riptile Gang surely would.
Alex sprinted down the hallway, breath sharp and uneven, his wounded arm throbbing with every movement. Behind him, the Riptile Gang's footsteps thundered like a pack of starving wolves. Their hissing voices bounced off the walls, echoing through the ruined floors.
"Run, little mouse!" one of them called.
"Don't let him get away!" another shouted, his voice crackling with animal excitement.
Alex darted into a side corridor, turning sharply, hoping to lose them in the maze of broken rooms and collapsed walls. But the gang moved fast—too fast. Their reptile-like reflexes let them jump over debris and slide across broken tiles with ease.
He skidded around a corner—
—and stopped dead.
A collapsed ceiling blocked the entire hallway. Rubble piled to the ceiling. No cracks. No space to crawl through. No escape.
His chest tightened.
"No… no, no—"
He spun around to run the other way.
But it was already too late.
Gator Spine slammed into him like a charging bull. Alex hit the ground hard—his skull cracking against the concrete. A burst of bright white pain exploded across his vision. The world spun, doubled, then blurred.
Before he could breathe, hands grabbed him. Several men pinned him down—knees on his legs, elbows digging into his shoulders, heavy weight crushing his chest. Their scales scraped against his skin like sandpaper.
Gator Spine leaned over him, saliva dripping from his lips like a hungry animal. "You picked a bad day to be alone, human."
Alex tried to struggle, but the gang members were too strong. His head pulsed with pain. Blood trickled from the side of his forehead.
Then he heard the metallic click of a knife.
Gator Spine pressed it against Alex's ribs and slowly pushed it in.
Alex gasped—breath stolen. Pain shot through his side like fire. His eyes widened, tears stinging at the corners.
"There it is," Gator Spine whispered, voice trembling with pleasure. "The sound of a dying rabbit."
One of the others pulled a second blade from his belt and held it to Alex's throat. The cold steel kissed his skin—
—and then it slid.
A thin, sharp line split across Alex's neck.
Warm blood spilled down his collarbone, pooling beneath him.
His fingers twitched weakly.
He couldn't scream. His voice was strangled by pain. His vision flickered in and out, black spots swallowing his sight. His heartbeat hammered violently, faster… faster… like it was trying to break out of his chest.
Is this it?
Is this where it ends?
His hands went numb. His body trembled. His breath came in ragged, wet bursts. The world around him grew distant, muffled, like he was sinking underwater.
But then—
Something shifted.
Deep inside him, buried under years of fear and guilt, something stirred.
A pulse.
A spark.
A violent tremor that spread through his veins like electricity.
His heartbeat accelerated—not with panic, but with power.
Raw, ancient power.
The air around him tightened, humming softly. A cold wind swirled across the floor, lifting dust from the tiles. The Riptile Gang froze, confusion flashing across their reptile eyes.
"W-what the hell—?"
"Why is the air…?"
"He's glowing—"
Alex didn't understand it either. He only knew one thing:
Something inside him had awakened.
A thick wave of pressure burst outward from his chest, knocking several gang members backward. They stumbled, hissing in shock, tumbling across the debris-strewn floor.
Nearby, in the shadows of the ruined building, several Soul Walkers—creatures who rarely responded to anything human—jerked their heads toward the direction of the surge. Their hollow faces tilted, sensing the rise of a power that wasn't supposed to exist.
The temperature dropped.
Silence fell over the hall.
Alex rose to his feet slowly—unnaturally slowly—like someone lifting a marionette by invisible strings.
His neck still bled. His ribs still throbbed. But his face had no expression. His eyes were blank, empty of fear, empty of pain—empty of humanity. Something cold and distant looked out through them now.
One of the gang members stumbled back. "H-he's supposed to be dying! Why is he—why is he—"
Alex raised his hand.
Gator Spine snarled and charged, but his body stopped mid-step, suspended in the air as if hooked by an unseen force. His legs kicked wildly, eyes bulging in confusion and terror.
"What—what is this?!" he screamed. "Put me down!"
His men rushed to help him… but they floated too, pulled helplessly off the ground, flailing like trapped insects. Their bodies twisted upward, their shadows stretching unnaturally long along the walls.
Alex lifted his other hand.
A pale white glow seeped out of the Riptile Gang's chests—soft at first, then brighter, like light pushing through cracks in their skin. It grew into streams of white energy, swirling, trembling, fighting to escape.
Gator Spine shrieked, not like a man, but like something being torn from the inside.
"No—NO—!"
Alex watched without blinking.
The white lights burst free—long, shimmering threads of pure essence—writhing in the air like living mist. One by one, these glowing souls ripped out of the gang members' bodies, leaving their forms hollow.
Their skin turned gray.
Their eyes rolled back.
Their limbs went limp as their life drained away.
The souls drifted toward Alex's raised hands, drawn to him, encircling him like ghostly ribbons before folding into his palms and vanishing inside his body.
The moment the last soul disappeared, the Riptile Gang fell to the floor—cold, lifeless, empty shells.
Silence filled the hallway once again.
Alex stood amidst their bodies, still breathing heavily, still covered in his own blood. But the numbness remained. The emptiness in his eyes remained.
Then his knees buckled.
The world tilted sideways and went dark as he collapsed onto the cold floor, landing beside the lifeless shells of the Riptile Gang. His fingers twitched once, then went still. Blood from his neck and ribs slowly spread out beneath him, mixing with the dust.
For a few heartbeats, the building was silent.
Then—
Click.
A sharp, clear sound echoed through the ruined hallway.
Click. Click. Click.
Heels.
They rang against cracked tiles, each step steady and unhurried. The sound bounced down the corridor, slipping through broken doorways and shattered walls, cutting through the heavy silence left by death.
A girl appeared at the far end of the hallway.
She looked no older than eighteen. Her hair was as black as a raven's wing, falling straight down to her waist, slightly swaying with each step. Her eyes were a striking shade of green, bright even in the dim light that filtered through the broken ceiling. She wore a dark, fitted coat reaching mid-thigh, belts crossing her waist, and boots with sharp heels—the source of that echoing sound.
Her gaze moved first over the dead Riptile bodies. Then it settled on Alex, lying in the spreading pool of blood, pale and still.
She clicked her tongue softly. "Too early," she murmured. "You almost died before your deal."
Before she could take another step, the air directly ahead of her shuddered.
The floor trembled.
A black whirlpool opened in the center of the corridor—right between her and Alex. It spun like living shadow, swirling faster and faster, sucking in the light around it. The tiles cracked in a perfect circle, pulled downward as if gravity itself had been twisted.
From inside the whirlpool, something began to rise.
First came two massive, curved horns—jagged and dark, pushing out of the swirling void. Then a broad head emerged, shaped like a bull's but sharper, more beast-like, with glowing red eyes burning like embers in a furnace. The creature's skin was pitch-black, stretched tight over a powerful, muscular human-like torso. Thick arms ended in clawed hands, and behind it whipped a bull's tail, long and heavy.
In one of its hands, it gripped a huge hammer made of dark stone and metal, its surface engraved with glowing cracks like cooled magma.
The demon hauled itself free from the whirlpool, hooves slamming onto the broken floor with a deep, echoing thud. Dust jumped, and the walls vibrated with the force of its arrival.
The girl didn't flinch.
"I was wondering when they'd send one of you," she said quietly.
The bull demon turned toward Alex first, nostrils flaring as it smelled the blood and unfamiliar power lingering in the air.
Its lips curled back over sharp teeth. "There he is… the newborn Soul Harvester."
It started toward him, each step heavy enough to crack the tiles.
The girl's eyes narrowed.
With a swift motion of her hand, she traced a circle in the air. A faint black shimmer appeared over Alex's body—a dome of dark light that snapped into place like glass, forming a barrier around him.
The demon stopped, red eyes narrowing as the barrier flickered.
She stepped between the demon and Alex, green eyes sharp. Two lines of dark mist formed at her sides, then solidified, becoming a pair of long black swords—one in each of her hands. Their blades were sleek, dark as night, with faint patterns etched along the steel that seemed to move when she shifted them.
"Step away from him," she said. Her voice was calm, but there was iron beneath it.
The demon snorted, hot air blasting from its nostrils.
"You think you can command me, child?" it rumbled, voice deep enough to make the walls shiver. "You are barely grown. Eighteen summers at most."
The girl tilted her head. "That's one more summer than you're going to see."
The demon's eyes flared.
With a roar, it swung its hammer.
The ground between them erupted as the hammer hit, sending a shockwave down the hall. The tiles shattered like glass, and a wave of broken stone shot toward her.
Earth ability.
She jumped, flipping over the flying debris, her coat flaring behind her. While mid-air, she crossed her swords, deflecting a chunk of rock that would have smashed into her legs. She landed in a slide, boots skidding along the floor.
The demon stomped, and the ground buckled beneath her feet. A jagged stone pillar shot up from the floor where she stood.
She reacted in a blink—kicking off the rising stone, flipping backward out of its reach. Her blades sliced through the air, cutting off the top of the pillar as she moved.
The demon laughed, a low, earth-trembling sound. "Dance, little Lifetaker."
He swung the hammer again, this time horizontally. The air howled as it rushed toward her. She ducked under it, rolled, then came up inside his guard—close enough to see the cracks in his black skin, like lines of cooled lava.
She slashed both swords across his abdomen.
The blades cut deep, leaving glowing lines across his flesh. Black blood sizzled as it dripped to the floor.
The demon roared in pain and fury, swinging one massive arm. His backhand caught her mid-swing.
The impact sent her flying.
She slammed into a wall with a bone-jarring crack. The plaster exploded around her, leaving a deep dent in the concrete. Her swords skidded across the floor, metal shrieking.
She slid down the wall and landed on one knee, coughing.
For a second, her body sagged. Then bones inside her shoulders and ribs began to shift back into place—loud, sharp pops and cracks echoing in the hallway. It was like someone rearranging broken pieces in fast motion.
She inhaled slowly as the pain faded.
"Annoying," she muttered, lifting her head.
The demon narrowed his eyes. "Regeneration? They gave you that too?"
She stood up, rolling her shoulders as if she'd only been lightly shoved. Her swords flew back into her hands with a single gesture, like they were tied to her by invisible threads.
The hammer's head glowed as the demon raised it, drawing power from the ground. The floor split into hundreds of chunks, which rose into the air like a storm of stone daggers.
"You should never have been born," the demon growled. "The gods should not have made a Soul Harvester. The world is already abandoned. There are no more rules. No more heaven. No more judgment. So why," he lifted his hammer higher, stones spinning faster around it, "send a Soul Harvester and a Lifetaker now?"
The girl tightened her grip on her swords.
"That," she said, her green eyes turning cold as ice, "is none of your business."
The demon roared and brought the hammer down.
The stones flew at her like a hailstorm.
She spun her swords in a blur, cutting through the rain of rock. Shards bounced off the barrier behind her, some shattering harmlessly against it. One stone clipped her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, but she didn't slow.
She charged.
The demon stomped, lifting a wall of earth between them. She ran straight up the rising stone, using it as a ramp, and launched herself off the top. She flew through the air, both swords drawn back.
The demon swung his hammer up to meet her.
Steel met stone with a deafening crash.
The impact sent another shockwave through the building. Cracks spiderwebbed along the walls. Dust rained from the ceiling. The girl was hurled backward, but she twisted mid-air, landing on one foot, then dropping into a crouch.
The demon staggered a step, surprised by the force she'd met him with.
She gave him no time to recover.
She dashed forward, crossing her blades. He slammed his hammer into the ground again, and the floor fell away beneath her, turning into a gaping hole.
She reacted instantly—jamming one sword into the crumbling edge, using it to swing around and vault herself up onto solid ground. She yanked the sword free and rolled as a stone spike erupted where she'd just been.
"You're persistent," the demon snarled.
"You're loud," she replied, and vanished.
For a heartbeat, the demon lost track of her.
Then he felt it—a presence at his back.
She had flashed behind him, moving faster than his eyes could follow. Both swords plunged into the backs of his knees.
He screamed as his legs buckled, dropping him to a half-kneel. His hammer slammed into the floor, sending a weak tremor through the building.
Blood oozed from the wounds in his legs, hissing as it hit the ground.
She pulled her blades free and leapt in front of him, breathing hard now but still standing tall. Her hair was a mess, dust clung to her coat, and blood stained her lip—but her eyes still burned.
"Last chance," she said quietly. "Go back."
The demon spat black blood at her feet.
"The gods are gone," he snarled. "They left this world to rot. We rule now. Not you. Not your masters. Not that broken little Harvester on the floor behind you."
His red eyes narrowed.
"And when his power grows, they will regret sending both a Soul Harvester and a Lifetaker to this corpse of a world."
She sighed. "Wrong answer."
He raised his hammer for one last swing, pulling every ounce of strength from the earth. The floor shook, the hallway buckled, cracks racing up the walls like lightning. Stone spikes rose all around her, trying to cage her in.
She dropped her swords.
The demon blinked, confused.
Then she raised her hands and closed her eyes.
A ring of black symbols formed beneath her boots, spinning slowly, glowing faintly. The air around her grew heavy, pressing down like a storm. Her dropped blades lifted from the floor, floating beside her like loyal servants.
"Die," the demon roared, bringing his hammer down with a final, earth-shattering slam.
The spikes lunged toward her—
—and stopped.
Frozen in mid-air, inches from her body.
The demon's eyes widened. "What—?"
She opened her eyes.
Her green irises now glowed with a dark, deep light.
"Gravity bind," she whispered.
The hammer in his hands suddenly grew heavier—so heavy even he struggled to hold it. His arms shook. The ground beneath him cracked deeper as the weight dragged him down.
She moved.
In one smooth motion, she grabbed her swords from the air and shot forward, sliding between the stone spikes like a shadow. She dashed straight for his chest, blades crossed.
She uncrossed the blades in a powerful strike.
Both swords cut through his chest in an X-shaped slash, slicing past bone and into the core of whatever passed for his heart. Black light burst from the wounds, followed by a roar filled with rage and disbelief.
He stumbled back, dropping to one knee. His hammer slipped from his grip and slammed uselessly to the ground.
"You… cannot…" he gasped, black blood pouring from his mouth. "You cannot stop what's… coming…"
She stepped back, breathing hard, watching him fall.
The demon's massive body trembled, then began to collapse. His skin cracked, lines of darkness spreading across him like broken stone.
Then the floor opened beneath him.
The same black whirlpool returned, swirling up from the ground and wrapping around his falling body. It clung to him like liquid shadow, swallowing his legs, his torso, his arms.
His glowing red eyes locked with hers one last time.
"We'll meet again… Lifetaker," he hissed, voice already fading.
Then the whirlpool pulled him under completely.
In seconds, he was gone.
The floor sealed over as if nothing had ever happened—leaving only shallow cracks and a few shattered stones where the demon had stood.
The girl exhaled slowly, letting her swords dissolve back into black mist. The glowing ring beneath her feet faded. Her shoulders sagged slightly now that the fight was over.
She turned toward Alex.
The barrier around him still flickered softly, holding back dust, blood, and debris. He lay inside, pale and unconscious, but his chest rose and fell—barely.
The girl walked over and knelt beside the barrier, resting a hand on it. It dissolved at her touch like smoke.
She brushed a bit of hair from Alex's forehead, studying his face.
"So this is where they send you," she murmured. "You almost died before I even got the chance to meet you again."
Her lips curved into a faint, tired smile.
"Don't make a habit of that."