The night appeared quickly, heavy with uncertainty. A sharp chill clung to the ruins, and shadows slithered along the broken walls of the city like living things. Among the rubble, the quiet was deceptive—thick with unseen eyes and breathless anticipation. Shattered buildings leaned like wounded beasts, and the creatures lurking in the dark made the silence feel like a trap. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly, studying their prey with a patience that made the skin crawl.
They were waiting.
Assessing.
And they had their focus fixed on him.
Ayla gripped his arm, her fingers trembling. Her voice broke through the darkness in a whisper. "We can't fight them all."
Her words were sharp with fear, but he didn't flinch. He wasn't listening to her panic. Something deeper pulled at him—like a string buried in the core of his being had suddenly been plucked. The world had shifted. Sounds sharpened. The night spoke to him in a language he hadn't known he could understand. Every heartbeat echoed, and every breath from the monsters throbbed in his ears like a drumbeat of war.
His hair stood on end. Not from fear, but from awareness—raw, electric, undeniable.
An energy moved inside him, unfamiliar but intimate. Like a fire that had always been there, waiting to burn.
And then, without warning, the first creature lunged.
His body responded before his mind could catch up. In a blur, he leaped through the air, instinctively arching his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's deadly claws that snapped shut mere inches from his face.
. He landed behind it like it was a dance he had rehearsed a thousand times, and without hesitation, he struck. His hand, open and glowing with a heat he didn't understand, cut through the creature's flesh with terrifying ease.
The thing screamed—shrill, inhuman—and black ichor sprayed from its wound. The others froze, uncertainty flickering across their unnatural forms. They sensed it. Understood it.
He wasn't prey.
He was a predator.
Ayla stumbled back, eyes wide in shock. "How… how did you do that?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't. A strange force had taken hold of him—powerful, and ancient. It wasn't rage. It wasn't even adrenaline. It was the purpose.
More of them attacked in unison, lunging with a desperate, wild fury. This time, he met them head-on. Every movement was chaos turned to art—uncontrolled yet deliberate. His hands blazed with heat, each strike sending enemies flying as though they were weightless. The fire didn't burn his skin. It lived in him. Moved with him.
One tried to ambush him from the shadows. He sensed it before it even moved. Without turning, his arm whipped backward, catching it by the throat. His grip tightened. Flame erupted from his lips, consuming the creature in a burst of light. It shrieked, the sound cut short as it turned to ash, scattered to the wind.
Ayla's breath caught. She stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Awe and fear mingled in her gaze.
"You're not just a man," she whispered. "You're something else."
He exhaled, steam curling from his lips into the cold night. His body still hummed with the energy, but his mind was fraying—too many emotions rushing at once, all tangled and loud.
He didn't feel human. Not entirely. And that terrified him.
The last creature turned and fled, dragging its limbs across the cracked ground. It didn't hiss or snarl. It ran. It feared him.
But he felt no satisfaction. No victory.
Only emptiness.
Ayla approached cautiously like one would approach a wounded animal. Her voice shook. "But what are you?"
He turned to her. The heat in his eyes dulled, no longer blazing, just a flutter. "I… I don't know."
The words tasted bitter in his mouth. He should know. But when he reached for his past, he touched only shadows.
Ayla lowered her gaze. Her hands were trembling again. "I thought I was strong. I've spent my life fighting these things. But you… you're something else entirely."
She reached out slowly, touching his cheek with her fingertips—just for a moment—before recoiling, as if afraid he would ignite again. Her voice softened. "You look human. But you don't feel like one."
He clenched his fists, feeling the fire churn in his chest, restless and wild. What if he lost control again? What if, next time, it wasn't a monster he struck down?
What if it was her?
Ayla pulled her coat tighter around herself, her breath coming in small, nervous puffs. "We need to move. That one that escaped—it'll come back. With more."
She turned, ready to walk, but he lingered—eyes still fixed on the smoldering remains around them. Flames still crackled in the corners of the ruins, painting the night in flickers of orange and gold.
He couldn't shake the thought—what if he couldn't stop next time?
What if he was the real danger?
They walked through the ruins in silence, their steps echoing against broken stone. The moon hung low, casting pale light over a landscape of devastation. Ayla kept her distance now, always a step or two behind or ahead, never beside him. But he felt her gaze, filled with questions and uncertainty.
And something else.
Hope.
She had watched him defy death, stand against the monsters that plagued their world, and win. She had seen someone survive what no one else could. And now, a sparkle of belief lit her heart—for herself, for humanity.
He felt it radiating from her like warmth from a dying fire.
But he couldn't return it. Couldn't meet her eyes. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt… lost. Alone. A shadow wearing the skin of a man.
The ruins stretched endlessly ahead, a graveyard swallowed by time. Each step stirred the ghosts of what once was. And then—suddenly—he stopped.
A flash.
No sound. Just sensation. Like a whisper beneath the skin.
Visions slammed into him like waves crashing on a rock.
A burning sky.
Screams rising like smoke.
Figures tumbling from the heavens—some winged, some monstrous—writhing as they hit the earth and twisted into creatures of nightmare.
And then a voice. Deep. Immense. Echoing in his bones.
"You were made for this."
Then—
Nothing.
The vision vanished, and the weight of it dropped him to one knee.
Ayla rushed to him. "What's wrong?" Her hands gripped his arm.
He blinked through the haze, chest heaving. "I saw them."
"Who?"
"The invaders," he said through clenched teeth. "I think… I
He looked at her, eyes glowing faintly again. "I remember the sky burning."
And deep inside, though he didn't say it aloud, another truth took shape.
He hadn't just witnessed the fall.
He had been part of it.