*****
Andro's POV
I never imagined my story would begin inside a dark, cramped room—hiding, shaking, and writing the truth on an old laptop that barely survives a full hour of battery life.
But here I am.This is where my world broke.And this is where I have to start telling it.
My name is Andres Silang, but most people call me Andro.I am eighteen years old, half-human and half-aswang—born with super strength, sharp senses, and the ability to shift into a black cat whenever danger comes close.
And because of what I am, the New Philippine Government wants me dead.
The clicking of my keyboard is the only sound in the room. Outside, the night is heavy and silent—the kind that hides threats instead of peace. I write because I need to remember every detail, every moment—how my life turned into ashes.
I stop typing, letting out a slow breath.
It all began with Project KALINISAN—a nationwide "cleansing" program that claimed to protect the country from monsters. But the truth was simple and brutal: wipe out all hybrids. Anyone born with supernatural blood—diwata, duwende, kataw, sirena, aswang—was declared a threat. A disease. A mistake.
My family tried to stay hidden. For years, we lived quietly, always careful, always controlled. But everything changed three months ago, when soldiers stormed our safehouse without warning.
Gunshots.Screams.Smoke.
They killed my mother first. Then my siblings. Then my father—though not before he pressed a folded letter into my hand and shoved me into the hidden tunnel beneath our house. His last words still crawl through my skull every night:
"Andro, find them. Protect them. You are not alone."
I swallow the ache burning in my throat. I've read his letter more times than I can count. It's the only piece of him I have left.
But I don't know how to start the "mission" he wrote about. I don't know who "them" is supposed to be. And I can't trust anyone—not when the military shoots on sight. Not when I'm hunted like an animal.
Surviving the streets alone is almost impossible.
Private vehicles—cars, motorcycles, even bicycles—are banned unless you carry a military-issued passport chip. Only the rich, the "pure-blooded," and the obedient have it. Anyone walking without it is questioned. Anyone who refuses the blood test is taken away.
Hybrids like me…We don't come back.
That's why I can't ride anything.I can't pass any checkpoint.I can't even switch on my tablet—the government tracks every device signal.
I breathe out and type another sentence, but halfway through—
A cold chill races up my spine.
Movement.Outside.
My hearing sharpens instantly. Heartbeat slows. Instinct takes over—the instinct of prey sensing the hunters approaching.
Boots.Four... no—five soldiers.VOICES. Low, careful.
They're inside the perimeter.
My chest tightens. They found me.
I snap my laptop shut and hold my breath. Then—click—I turn the device completely off, pressing down until the light dies. No signals. No heat. No trace.
The boots draw closer.
My bones itch—warning me.I let the shift take me.
Muscles shrink, limbs fold, vision drops to the floor as fur ripples across my skin. The world tilts—
And I am a sleek, black cat.
I leap onto a high cabinet and hide behind dusty boxes just as the front door downstairs slams open.
"Check every corner," a soldier orders."He's here. The trackers picked up movement."
Heavy boots thunder through the hallway… and stop right outside my bedroom door.
"This is it.""Kick it."
The door bursts inward.
Flashlights sweep the room—slow, patient, deadly.
And all they see…is me.
A small, harmless-looking black cat perched on the bed, blinking lazily at them.
"The signal was wrong," a soldier mutters."Clear. Just a stray."
They curse, frustrated, and finally leave the house.
I stay frozen until the last echo of boots fades into the night.
Slowly, painfully, I shift back—my bones stretching, my breath shaking. Fear sits like a blade under my ribs.
I can't keep doing this.Running.Hiding.Waiting every night for death to break down the door.
I look at the letter on my lap—my father's handwriting, sharp and steady. For the first time, I notice something new.
A small wax seal at the bottom.Dry. Old.But carved with six numbers.
A code.
My heart jumps.
I grab my father's old laptop—the one I never opened, never cracked. My hands shake as I enter the six numbers.
The screen flickers…And unlocks.
A single folder sits on the desktop.
HYBRID REBELLION
My pulse races. I click it open.
Files explode onto the screen—profiles, scanned documents, maps, data logs.
Seven names.Seven young hybrids.
One of them… is me.
I scroll, stunned. My father wasn't just hiding us. He was tracking others like me—planning something bigger than I ever understood.
I open one of the maps.
Not just Luzon.Visayas.Mindanao.Dots scattered across the whole country, each marking a possible hybrid hiding place.
My breath shakes, but it's not fear this time.Not anymore.
I can't use public transport.I can't pass checkpoints.I can't use any device that sends a signal.
But for the first time since my family died…I have a direction.
Maybe this is where I begin.Maybe this is what my father wanted.
I rest my eyes on the glowing map.
I am done hiding.
It's time to find the others.And when we're together…
It's time to fight back.