The forest was quiet.
Not the natural hush of dawn or the breathless pause before rainfall—this was a conditioned silence, the kind imposed when every living creature decided survival meant staying absolutely still. The air sat heavy with moisture. Mist curled between the roots like pale snakes. And somewhere ahead, something waited.
Eli lingered at the treeline, fingers clenching the strap of his pack.
"Why does it feel like the woods are staring back?" he whispered.
His older brother, Rowan, scanned the shadows with the calm, hawk-like focus he inherited from their stepfather. "Because they are." He lifted two fingers for quiet and pressed forward.
Behind them, Daniel—their stepdad, their trainer, their walking contradiction of humility and god-tier strength—moved as soundlessly as an animal born to the wild. Not a twig cracked beneath his boots. Not a leaf dared whisper at his passage. Even after seven chapters' worth of close encounters, their brains still struggled to accept the impossible ease with which he blended into any environment.
"Stay sharp," Daniel murmured, voice low yet oddly soothing. "Something's been nesting here that shouldn't."
Eli swallowed. "Let me guess… another hunting disorder creature?"
Rowan elbowed him lightly. "You should stop naming them that out loud. You'll jinx us."
"They're literally classified as that!"
"Not officially."
Daniel raised a hand, halting them both. "Boys."
The tone alone could've stopped a stampede.
He pointed toward the ground.
They saw it immediately.
A footprint.
But not from any predator they'd ever studied. Not a bear. Not a mutated wolf. Not even the insectoid aberration from Chapter Five that had nearly taken Rowan's arm.
This print was humanoid, but five times larger. The heel sank deep—deeper than any natural creature could achieve without weighing several tons. The toes were long, tapering like talons. And etched into the soft soil around it, faint but unmistakable, were the scrape lines of dragged chains.
Eli's voice cracked. "Are you kidding me?"
Daniel knelt beside the mark, brushing away loose dirt. His expression shifted—not to fear, but to something colder, sharper. Focus so intense it bordered on predatory.
"A Warden-Class," Daniel said.
The air tightened around them.
"Warden?" Rowan repeated. "As in offense-tier? Those things aren't supposed to exist outside controlled zones."
"They don't," Daniel replied. "Which means someone brought it here."
Eli felt his stomach churn. "Why would someone bring something like that into a civilian district forest?"
Daniel stood, gaze turned toward the fog-laced depths where the tracks vanished. "To hide it. Or to let it hunt."
A shiver crawled up Eli's spine.
Rowan frowned. "Should we call this in?"
"No," Daniel said immediately. "Not yet. Wardens react aggressively to technology signatures. Radios, GPS, drones—any of them could trigger a rampage."
"That's horrible," Eli muttered.
"That's why they're banned for field release." Daniel motioned forward. "We follow. Quietly. And if you see its mask—do not look directly into the eye slots. Understood?"
Both boys nodded, though Eli's legs trembled when he tried to move.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something else lingered in this forest, something older. Something reacting to the same presence Daniel had sensed. For reasons he couldn't name, Eli felt it too—a strange pull, like a distant vibration tugging at the edges of his ribcage.
They moved on.
The deeper they traveled, the heavier the fog became. Rowan took point briefly while Daniel mapped the direction of broken branches overhead—evidence the creature was tall enough to brush the canopy.
Eli kept glancing behind them.
He couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.
And then came the smell.
Sweet at first, like ripe fruit.
Then it twisted, rotted, and thickened into something metallic and cloying. Rowan gagged.
"What is that?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. "Blood pheromones."
"From what!?"
But Daniel didn't answer.
Because they'd stepped into a clearing.
And the clearing was a massacre.
Trees splintered like matchsticks. Soil churned as if plowed by an enraged titan. Patches of grass were scorched black, and every rock was slick with drying blood that pooled in grotesque shapes. Scattered across the scene were the remains of forest animals—deer, rabbits, foxes—each one shredded as if torn apart mid-sprint.
Eli covered his mouth, bile rising.
Rowan's fingers twitched toward the blade sheathed at his hip. "This wasn't natural. This wasn't feeding. This was—"
"Control loss," Daniel finished grimly. "Someone removed its limiter."
Eli stared at him. "Limiter? As in… someone did that on purpose?"
Daniel's silence said everything.
He moved toward the center of the clearing, crouched, and examined the ground. The boys followed—slowly, unwillingly.
What they found made Eli physically recoil.
A metal collar. Snapped.
Its inner edge held etched sigils—suppression marks. Anti-rage inscriptions. And glowing faintly at its broken hinge was an energy trace unlike anything the brothers had seen before. A faint ghost-blue radiance, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Rowan whispered, "Stepdad… this wasn't just removed."
"No," Daniel agreed. "It was broken from the inside."
A twig cracked behind them.
Eli spun, weapon raised—only to freeze when a second sound followed.
A huff.
Wet. Labored. Trembling.
From the fog beyond the clearing's edge, something massive moved. Leaves rustled. Branches bent. And then—
A silhouette emerged.
Towering. Shackled wrists dangling broken chains. Back hunched, muscles bulging under skin so pale it reflected the mist. And on its face… a cracked, bone-white mask with two long vertical eye slits glowing faintly gold.
But something was wrong.
Daniel exhaled slowly. "It's wounded."
Blood poured from deep gashes across its chest. The mask had split, exposing a glimpse of raw flesh beneath. And its posture wasn't predatory—it was unsteady, swaying, as if fleeing something worse than itself.
Rowan stepped closer to Daniel. "What could hurt something like that?"
Daniel didn't take his eyes off the creature. "Nothing natural."
The Warden's gaze fixed on them. It let out a groan—one that sounded disturbingly like a word caught in a ruined throat.
Eli whispered, "Did… did it just say something?"
But Daniel reacted before the creature could move.
His hand shot out, pushing both boys behind him.
"Stay back. It's entering a cognitive bleed."
"What does that mean?" Eli asked, panic rising.
"It thinks we're its handlers," Daniel said quietly. "The ones who tortured it."
Rowan flinched. "So it's about to—"
The Warden roared.
The forest shook.
And then it charged.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, drawing a breath that seemed to pull the fog itself into his lungs.
He moved.
Not like a man.
Not like something bound by physics.
One instant he stood before them.
Then next—
He was gone.
A shockwave cracked the ground where he'd been, and the boys stumbled backward from the force. The Warden lunged, but Daniel intercepted it mid-stride, slamming a palm into its chest with a thunderclap of kinetic force. The creature skidded backward, plowing through a tree trunk in an explosion of bark.
Rowan grabbed Eli's arm. "We need to get distance—NOW!"
But Eli couldn't move.
Because the moment Daniel struck the creature, that strange internal vibration flared inside him again—stronger, sharper. Something deep in his chest responded to the Warden's aura.
As if calling to it.
As if echoing it.
His breath stuttered. His vision blurred at the edges. His heartbeat synced with the faint blue pulsing energy still lingering near the broken collar.
Rowan shook him. "Eli! Snap out of it!"
But he barely heard.
Because across the clearing, the Warden slowly rose—mask cracked further—and stared directly at him.
Not Daniel.
Not Rowan.
Him.
A low, broken whisper escaped the creature's ruined throat.
"…You…"
Eli froze.
Daniel appeared between them again, stance rigid. "Boys—run. Now."
The Warden lurched forward again.
Daniel braced.
Rowan grabbed Eli, dragging him—
But Eli couldn't tear his eyes away.
Because the vibration in his chest wasn't fear.
It was recognition.
The Warden knew him.
Somehow… impossibly… it knew him.
And as the monster roared again, terror and something else—something ancient—awakened inside Eli.
Something that would redefine everything about his power, his past, and the truth Daniel had tried so hard to hide.