The wind didn't guide him anymore.
It lingered.
Like something breathing just out of sight.
Amir slowed as they moved deeper into the town.
Every step felt heavier.
"…why does it feel like this…" he whispered.
"Because you can feel it now," the Anito said.
"…feel what?"
"A presence that has already settled in."
Amir didn't like that.
Not at all.
The masked fighter raised a hand.
"Stop."
Amir froze instantly.
"…what is it?"
"Listen."
Silence.
Not normal silence.
Dead silence.
No wind.
No insects.
No distant noise.
Like the world had been cut off.
"…this isn't right…" Amir said.
"No."
The fighter moved slowly now.
Measured.
Careful.
"…we're not fighting?" Amir asked.
"Not yet."
"…then what are we doing?"
"Finding where it feeds."
Amir swallowed.
"…feeds on what?"
A pause.
"…people."
His stomach twisted.
They approached the first house.
The door was open.
Barely.
Creaking.
Inviting.
"…this is a bad idea…" Amir muttered.
"Then stay outside."
"…not happening."
They stepped in.
The moment Amir crossed the threshold—
The air dropped.
Cold.
Still.
Wrong.
"…it's inside…" he whispered.
"Yes."
The living room was a mess.
Furniture overturned.
Deep claw marks carved into the walls.
But something else—
Amir stepped closer.
"…these marks…"
They weren't random.
They curved.
Looped.
Forming something.
"…a pattern…" he said slowly.
The masked fighter crouched beside it.
"…not a pattern."
A pause.
"…a mark."
Amir's chest tightened.
"…like a symbol?"
"Yes."
The Anito spoke:
"Remember it."
"…why?"
"You will see it again."
Amir didn't like that either.
"…yeah… great…"
His eyes followed the floor.
Dragged marks.
Leading deeper inside.
"…they took them…" he whispered.
"Yes."
"…not just killing…"
"No."
"Then why—"
A sound cut him off.
Soft.
Broken.
"…help…"
Amir froze.
"…someone's alive…"
The masked fighter's voice sharpened:
"Wait."
Too late.
Amir pushed the door open.
A woman sat in the corner.
Shaking.
Barely breathing.
"…help me…" she whispered.
Amir rushed forward.
"I've got you—"
"STOP."
The command hit like a blade.
But he was already too close.
The woman's body jerked.
Violently.
Her spine arched.
Bones cracked—
"…no…" Amir whispered.
Her head snapped up.
Eyes—
Black.
Empty.
"…too late… too late…" she rasped.
Her voice echoed.
Layered.
Like something else was speaking through her.
She lunged.
Amir froze.
Just for a second.
A second too long.
"MOVE!"
He reacted—
Barely—
The strike tore across his side—
He staggered back—
Hands shaking.
"…she was alive…" his voice cracked.
"No."
"…she asked for help…"
"She was already taken."
Amir didn't move.
Didn't respond.
His hands trembled.
"…I saw her…"
"She was bait."
That hit harder.
Amir clenched his fists.
"…then what are we saving…?"
Silence.
Even the Anito didn't answer.
The masked fighter stepped forward—
Just slightly.
A pause.
"…focus," they said.
Softer.
Not cold this time.
The smallest shift.
But it mattered.
Then—
"First Cut—Sever."
SHING—
The woman collapsed.
Still.
Silent.
The room felt heavier.
Amir stared at the floor.
"…I was too slow…"
"Yes."
"…I hesitated…"
"Yes."
"…she died because of that…"
A pause.
Then—
"…no," the masked fighter said.
Amir looked up.
"…she was already gone."
Not comfort.
But truth.
And somehow—
That hurt more.
The wind shifted.
Inside the house.
That shouldn't happen.
"…you feel that…" Amir whispered.
"Yes."
"…it's here…"
Closer.
Too close.
The walls creaked.
The floor shifted slightly—
Like something beneath them was breathing.
Then—
A voice.
Right behind him.
"…late…"
Amir froze.
"…late… late…"
It echoed.
Layered.
Distorted.
"…you're late…"
Cold fingers wrapped around his shoulder.
Too many fingers.
Too tight.
Amir couldn't move.
"…found you…"
His breath stopped.
"…you're the one… the one…"
The voice overlapped itself.
"…the one it wants…"
The grip tightened.
The wind screamed—
But this time—
It wasn't outside.