CHAPTER ONE
The air in the lavish living room was thick with tension. A faint scent of sandalwood lingered—burning incense from earlier. Jack and his mother stood a few feet apart, their bodies rigid with emotion. A maid watched nervously from the corner, fingers trembling around the tray she held.
"Why am I not allowed to attend?!" Jack's voice echoed through the marble-floored room, cracking under the weight of frustration.
"You know very well why," his mother snapped, her tone sharp as a dagger. "So please stop asking foolish questions."
"It's the end-of-session party! Everyone will be there!" Jack clenched his fists, his breath quickening.
"But you are not everyone."
"I understand that perfectly well. But I want to go out, make friends, develop social skills—unlike you, who couldn't even keep your marriage together!"
The crack of a slap split the silence. Jack staggered back, his cheek stinging. His mother's hand trembled midair.
"Do not speak to me in such a manner!" she barked, but her voice faltered.
"Whatever," Jack growled, storming up the staircase. The thud of his footsteps and the slam of his bedroom door left a heavy echo.
She collapsed into a nearby chair. Her sobs filled the house like a low tide, and the maid rushed forward, abandoning the tray as she knelt beside her.
---
A FEW HOURS LATER – JACK'S ROOM
Though the night air was cool and still, Jack's heart pulsed with a feverish resolve. He had bathed, dressed sharply in a tailored dark-blue shirt and black slacks, and spritzed on his father's old cologne—something woody and bold.
"It's time," he whispered to himself, then opened his window. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted up. With a graceful leap, he landed softly on the dewy lawn.
The gate creaked slightly as he opened it, trying to remain quiet. But just as he stepped out—
"Where do you think you're going?"
He froze. A woman's voice—probably the maid.
But Jack bolted before she could say another word. The cool night air whistled past his ears as the gate slowly swung shut behind him.
---
STREETS OF AERT
The dim, golden streetlights cast long shadows as Jack strolled down the brick-paved road, hands deep in his pockets. The city of Aert smelled of warm bread, engine oil, and faint perfume. He could hear distant music, laughter, and the occasional bark of a stray dog.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
"Why is he calling at this hour?" he muttered, flipping it open.
The voice on the other end was panicked. The party had been cancelled.
Jack's face twisted with fury. He crushed the phone in his hand with a snap. The metallic tang of broken electronics filled his palm.
"What an imbecile. If you're not sure about throwing a party, don't bother!" he spat.
Then, he saw something.
A figure. Slim. Slow-moving. Eerily familiar.
"Mother? Mrs. Valentine?"
It advanced, soundless, its head tilting unnaturally. And then—he saw it. A long black horn curled from its forehead.
A cold gust brushed against his neck, making his hair stand on end. Panic seized him.
"What is an Ankou doing in Phoenix?"
Jack turned and ran, heart pounding like war drums in his chest. Every footfall seemed to echo louder than the last.
---
BACK HOME – FRONT YARD
He arrived to a nightmare.
His mother lay before the gate, blood pooling around her body like ink spilled on white paper. Next to her, a creature—part shadow, part beast—dripped red from talons too long and sharp to be human.
Jack gasped, nearly choking on the metallic scent of blood.
The same Ankou that had chased him loomed behind. It slashed at him—he ducked, rolled, then kicked it back with a sharp snap of his heel.
"I didn't want to fight," Jack growled. "But you couldn't take a hint."
Suddenly, the other Ankou—the one by his mother—flashed in front of him, claws aimed at his eyes.
Jack launched a knee to its gut and punched it through the fence. Wood splintered and cracked as it smashed into the porch.
"Let me finish my sentence first," he sneered.
But the Ankou rose again, unbothered. Its talons caught his leg, slashing shallowly across his chest. Blood bloomed beneath his shirt.
Is this how I die?
Images flashed—Eliza's smile, Manny's laughter. I'm sorry. I'm not the strongest.
A sharp whoosh filled the air.
The Ankou's arm dropped to the ground, severed. A new voice spoke:
"After coming all the way to Phoenix, you're leaving empty-handed?"
Jack turned.
It wasn't his mother's voice. It was...
Teresa.
She stood beside the body, her blade dripping light. The wind rustled her cloak, and her eyes gleamed.
"With my blade," she said coldly, "I am the ruler of everything. Conqueror's Slash."
Steel met shadow. In a blur of motion, she cleaved the Ankou in half, then sheathed her weapon in one smooth motion.
"I'm Teresa. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Jack said nothing. He walked past her, lifting his mother's body gently in his arms.
---
NEXT MORNING – HOSPITAL ROOM 6
The sterile scent of disinfectant hung in the air. Machines beeped rhythmically. Jack sat beside his mother's unconscious body, eyes weary.
"You were right," he whispered. "This was my last chance to make friends before middle school ended."
Teresa leaned silently on the wall, arms crossed.
"Leave," Jack muttered. "You're creeping me out."
"If I leave, who'll take care of you?"
"I'm strong. I can take care of myself."
She approached, gripping his arm. "Then prove it."
"What are you doing?!"
"I'm going to teach you how to fight. So you can protect your loved ones."
"I already know how to fight!" Jack yanked his arm back.
"What about yesterday?"
"It was unexpected. I won't make the same mistake again."
In the blink of an eye, Teresa was behind him. Cold metal touched his neck.
"I hate when weak people pretend they're strong."
"Then fight me." Jack's eyes blazed. "If I win, you leave me alone. If you win, I'll do anything."
"Fair enough," she said. "But are we really fighting in your mom's hospital room?"
"Of course not, let's do it out—"
He pivoted, aiming a surprise kick. She dodged with ease.
Jack's breath caught. She's fast—no, too fast.
"I'll still beat you at your own game," he growled.
Teresa tilted her head, puzzled, then vanished and reappeared behind him again. A swift strike to the neck dropped Jack like a sack of bricks.
"Seriously. Where does he get that confidence?" she murmured, looking at his mother.
A black-haired man now sat on the hospital bed, his cloak shadowing his features.
"No, he gets it from her. She raised him. Not me."
"I'm leaving," Teresa said. "Get out too."
"Already?"
"I have to take your kid to my house before it gets dark."
"They did this, didn't they?"
"Yeah. I had no say in it."
Teresa hoisted Jack onto her shoulder and left.
---
A FEW MINUTES LATER – ROAD TO DARVIS
Jack awoke to the scent of leather and car freshener. He was lying in the backseat of a speeding car. His head throbbed.
He sat up groggily. "What am I doing in your car? I told you to leave me alone."
"You lost. A deal's a deal," Teresa said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
Jack stared out the window. "I'm the strongest... there's no way I can lose..." His voice cracked. "I didn't even defeat the Ankou. I'm useless. This is my fault. My mum's in a coma because of me."
Teresa smiled gently. "After all that bragging, you're giving up? And you dreamed of being the Str—"
"Don't be silly," Jack said firmly, wiping his tears. "I'm not giving up."
He looked up. "Please... teach me. I know that with your help, I can become the strongest."
"That's more like it."
"Where are we going?"
Teresa grinned. "To my house. The Za Head Family estate. There's someone I want you to meet."
TO BE CONTINUED.