The first streaks of dawn painted the city in muted grays and pale golds, though the light did little to dispel the feeling of wrongness that hung over the streets. Broken buildings leaned on one another like tired, wounded soldiers. The air carried the stench of decay, the tang of metal, and faint, almost imperceptible traces of something worse—something unnatural.
Kairen followed Liora through the narrow alleys leading away from their basement hideout. His body ached from the previous night's training, every muscle screaming in protest, yet the disorder throbbed insistently beneath his skin, alive and demanding attention. Each pulse of the sigil was a heartbeat that connected him to the fragments within him. They whispered constantly—predator instincts, hunting strategies, memories of beasts he had never encountered.
"You need to feel them all at once," Liora said, her voice sharp but calm. "Not just one fragment, not just instinct—you need to integrate them. Otherwise, the disorder will overwhelm you in combat. And believe me… it will."
Kairen's jaw tightened. "All at once?"
"Yes," she replied. She stepped over a pile of rubble, boots crunching against shards of concrete. "It's the only way to survive Rank B and above. You think the Shard-Maw Stalker was dangerous? That was a foot soldier. You won't even see the Crowned Beasts coming until they're on top of you."
He swallowed. Her words carried the weight of truth. She had fought them before, survived them. She had studied their movements, learned their weaknesses, and yet she wasn't bragging—she was warning him.
They reached an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city. Its roof had collapsed in parts, and the floor was littered with debris, broken crates, and twisted metal beams. Liora motioned for Kairen to stand in the center.
"This is your arena," she said. "It's rigged with sensors, traps, and projection devices. You won't fight real beasts… yet. But your mind and disorder will think you are. Treat it like the real thing. Every instinct, every fragment, every ability—it counts. Fail, and you learn the wrong lesson."
Kairen nodded. He could feel the fragments under his skin shift and pulse, hungry for input. The Shard-Maw fragment still resonated faintly, but new fragments lay dormant, waiting to be awakened. His fingers brushed the sigil, and he felt them stir, responsive to his will.
"Focus on Predator's Read first," Liora instructed. "Track me, anticipate me. Then we layer in the Ruin fragments."
The first fragment he drew was simple—a minor Rank C fragment, left behind by a Grief Instinct Ruin Beast. The memory surged into him: the way it had wailed, the phantom arms it had summoned, the waves of sound that disoriented its prey. He forced it into himself, translating its instinct into awareness rather than action. His perception sharpened. The warehouse seemed to unfold before him, each shadow, each floating dust particle, each subtle movement of Liora's body mapped in perfect clarity.
"Good," Liora murmured. "Now the Predator fragment. The Shard-Maw's memory."
It was like adding fire to fire. The Shard-Maw's instinct surged—fast, precise, ruthless. Kairen felt his muscles twitch involuntarily. His hands clenched and unclenched. Every instinct screamed to attack, to strike, to feed. But he forced it down, shaping it into anticipation and control.
"You're doing it wrong if you panic," Liora said, circling him. "You need the disorder to respond, not dictate. You need to become the predator that chooses when to strike, not the prey reacting to fear."
Kairen swallowed the lump in his throat and drew in the third fragment: a Hunger Instinct, minor but potent. It clawed at his system, whispering of devouring, consuming, taking. The combination of three fragments made the disorder thrash within him like a storm.
And then he felt it—clarity.
He was aware of every sound, every movement, every subtle shift in air pressure around Liora. He could anticipate her footfall before it happened. He could see where her hand would move, how she would pivot, even the micro-shifts in her balance that hinted at her next attack.
Liora lunged.
Not slowly. Not carefully. She moved with the speed and unpredictability of a trained predator. Kairen reacted. Every instinct, every fragment, every ounce of the disorder combined into a fluid motion. He dodged her strikes, rolled under swings, countered subtly, and tracked her movement in perfect harmony.
He felt the golden light of the sigil flare, an echo of the fragments, feeding his awareness, amplifying his reflexes. For a moment, he realized—he was enjoying it. The thrill, the danger, the pure, sharp clarity of predator and prey—it was intoxicating.
And then the simulated Ruin Beasts appeared. Projections, yes, but the disorder didn't care. They were threats. They were predators. And Kairen's instincts responded.
Beams of violet energy erupted from the projections, forcing him to dodge and weave with impossible precision. Shadowy forms lunged from the corners, their movements erratic and unpredictable. Each fragment guided his reactions. Predator instinct suggested attack points. Grief instinct warned him of traps. Hunger instinct sharpened his reflexes.
It was chaos.
And he loved every second of it.
But perfection was fleeting. The integration of three fragments simultaneously was taxing. His breathing grew ragged. His vision blurred slightly as the fragments screamed for dominance. The disorder pulsed, demanding freedom, threatening to consume him.
A projection swung wildly at him. Instinctively, he blocked—but the surge of energy was too much. He staggered, faltered, and the fragments clawed at each other inside his mind. Panic, hunger, predator instinct—they collided.
"Stop!" Liora shouted. Her voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Center yourself, Kairen! Control the disorder, or it will control you!"
He closed his eyes, focused on the golden pulse of his sigil, and breathed. One, two, three deep breaths. He felt the fragments settle slightly, the disorder bending to his will rather than overwhelming it. When he opened his eyes, the world seemed to click into place again.
The projections halted. The chaos paused. He was standing.
Liora approached him, face serious but not unkind. "That's your first lesson," she said. "You can handle multiple fragments, but barely. Every real fight will be harder. Every real Ruin Beast will hit harder, think faster, and evolve mid-fight. And that—" she tapped her chest—"is just the start of what you'll need to survive."
Kairen nodded. He felt the sweat on his brow, the ache in his muscles, and the thrill of power still thrumming beneath his skin. The disorder was still hungry, still waiting. But he had tasted control. He had touched it—and it felt like strength.
Later, as they left the warehouse, the city seemed different. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, the wind carried whispers he could almost—but not quite—understand. Somewhere in the distance, a deep, resonant growl echoed. Not the shallow cries of minor Ruin Beasts. Something bigger. Older. Smarter.
Liora's hand rested lightly on the hilt of her blade. "That's Rank B," she said quietly. "We need to move before it decides we're prey."
Kairen felt the disorder pulse. His sigil burned faintly, warning him, feeding him information, tempting him to unleash the fragments fully. He resisted. Not yet. Not until he was ready.
But he was learning. And soon… soon, he would be able to face whatever waited in the city.
The city had awakened. And so had he.
Kairen Vale was no longer merely surviving. He was hunting.