The mist thickened like a living thing.
It wrapped around the trees, cloaking the Proving Grounds in a dense, unnatural fog. Sounds dulled, lights flickered weakly through the haze, and one by one, the survival bracelets across the field lit up—students activating emergency extraction protocols.
Kael Ryuu crouched atop a broken ridge, Kurozan drawn and steady in his hand. His breathing was calm, but his eyes—heterochromatic, green and blue—cut sharply through the gloom.
Beside him, Riven wiped blood from his temple, panting.
"They're... adapting," Riven muttered, a note of disbelief in his voice. "Coming in waves now."
Kael nodded, sensing it too—the growing pulse of the String beneath the earth, the vibration of something ancient and wrong stirring within the mist.
The Wraithborn were no longer acting on instinct.
"They're hunting now," Kael said quietly.
Riven looked back toward the retreat beacons flashing in the distance. Students were fleeing. Whole squads had already been evacuated.
Still, Kael stood firm.
"Go," Kael said. "Fall back to the evac point."
"And you?"
Kael gave him a lopsided grin, tired but unshaken. "I'll buy you time."
For a heartbeat, Riven hesitated—then, with a grim nod, he turned and ran, disappearing into the swirling white.
Alone, Kael turned back to the advancing darkness.
The runes woven into his black gloves flared to life—unstable, chaotic, beautiful. A promise of devastation.
Come then. Let's finish this.
---
High above the battlefield, the Academy's command center buzzed with frantic activity.
Crystal monitors lit the war room, mapping hundreds of active distress signals—and dozens of dead zones where no life signs remained.
Veyna Duskryn stood at the heart of the chaos, radiating cold fury.
"We need a full extraction," one of the senior captains barked.
Headmaster Erion didn't hesitate.
"Authorization granted. Pull them out. Now."
Veyna snapped a gauntlet onto her forearm, fire sparking at her fingertips.
"I'm leading the retrieval personally."
No one dared argue.
At the edge of the room, Senn Valeris stared at the displays, lips moving in a silent prayer.
Stay alive, Kael. Just a little longer.
---
The sky tore open in a blaze of flame and steel.
Veyna crashed into the battlefield like a force of nature, blades of pure fire carving through Wraithborn hordes. Her guards spread around her, shields flashing, clearing a desperate path to the evac points.
Students stumbled toward salvation, wounded and terrified.
Through the storm, Riven staggered into Veyna's path.
She caught him, eyes burning.
"Where's Kael?"
"He... stayed," Riven rasped. "Said to hold the line."
For a heartbeat, Veyna looked ready to turn back and charge into the mist herself.
But duty snapped around her like iron chains.
Orders first. Emotions later.
With a furious roar, she slashed down another Wraithborn and barked to her soldiers.
"Get them to the ships! MOVE!"
Riven was pulled along, eyes lingering back toward the mist.
Toward where Kael remained, alone.
---
Deep in the roiling fog, a new predator stirred.
Twice the size of the others. Marked by runic scars.
It smiled as it felt Kael's presence—a pulsing, impossible resonance that called to it like blood in the water.
The hunt wasn't over.
It was just beginning.