The forest floor was knee-deep in fallen needles, brittle and sharp, crackling under every footstep like bones snapping under pressure. The air was heavy with the resinous scent of pine and something else—sharper, metallic. A sudden breeze stirred the needles and carried the tang of iron, the kind you only noticed when your mouth was dry and your instincts were screaming.
Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker tapped at a hollow tree. Rhythmic. Calm. Unaware.
Unaware of the slaughter that was about to come.
In the clearing stood a rhino.
Its eyes were wide, red-rimmed and twitching, foam bubbling at the edges of its mouth. It let out a low, guttural grunt—almost a growl. It pawed the ground with one massive foot, then snorted and glared at the group of soldiers standing before it.
Behind the beast, partially obscured by its grotesque bulk, was a boy. His face was pale, eyes wide with pain. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that soaked what remained of his torso. Below his chest—nothing. Just bone, meat, and ruin.
Jacob felt his stomach turn.
The world snapped back into motion.
A deep voice—one everyone in the squad recognized—boomed: "Scatter!"
Without hesitation, the unit burst apart like a cracked seed pod. Trained movements, swords drawn from backs and belts. There was no confusion. No hesitation.
Except for one.
One of them moved slower. Maybe he was afraid. Maybe he froze. Or maybe he was just unlucky.
The rhino charged.
It took only seconds. Inhumanly fast for its size. In three strides, it was upon him.
The soldier didn't even raise his blade. His eyes met the beast's. In them was something eerily calm. Acceptance.
The rhino's horn punched clean through his chest. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed.
No one screamed.
No one flinched.
Jacob's heart clenched, but he didn't let it show. He recognized the body. One of the newer ones.
He gritted his teeth. 'He was supposed to bait, not break,' he cursed inwardly. No time to mourn. No time for blame. Focus.
Iron sword in hand, dull and nicked from too many battles, Jacob sprinted forward. As he neared the beast, he made a sharp turn to the right, dirt and pine needles kicking up behind him.
The rhino twisted to follow, confused by the sudden movement. Its rage grew.
Perfect.
Jacob ran, weaving between trees like a ghost, dodging branches and roots with muscle memory alone. He could feel the pounding behind him—each of the rhino's steps was like a drumbeat of death getting closer.
'I can't die. Not yet.'
Then—
"Good job, bait."
The words came from somewhere just behind him. A cold wind brushed past Jacob's cheek, and a blue-glowing arrow sliced through the air.
Chk!
The arrow pierced through the rhino's skull, right between the eyes. The beast let out one final shuddering breath before its legs gave out beneath it. It crashed into the ground with a dull, echoing thud.
Jacob stood there, breath ragged, heart racing.
A man stepped out from behind a nearby tree, a crossbow in his hand and a smirk carved onto his face. He looked to be in his early twenties—neatly combed black hair, sharp black eyes, posture too relaxed for someone who had just killed a cursed.
"Where's the rest?" he asked, voice light, almost amused.
The other soldiers arrived soon after, silent, unreadable. No words. Just eyes on the corpse.
Jacob walked past the grinning man without a glance.
"You did good, bait," the man called after him, still grinning. "Tell you what—help us carry it back to base, I'll toss you a few."
Jacob stopped.
Turned.
His voice was calm. "Two solin."
Gasps fluttered through the group like wind through dry leaves. Two solin? For a carcass? Was he mad?
The man only laughed, reaching into his coat pocket and tossing two silver coins at Jacob, who caught them effortlessly.
"Alright."
The group exchanged silent glances. No one argued. No one questioned it. Then they turned and followed the grinning man back toward the base.
Jacob stood alone with the corpse.
'Idiots. They just left me with a jackpot.'
He knelt beside the rhino and began cutting. Horn. Eyes. Tail tuft. Valuable parts for trade, maybe something more.
He stashed them carefully into his worn satchel. Then, with effort, he began dragging the body back toward base.
The town passed by in a blur. Faces turned away. Some stared for a heartbeat too long, then looked down, pretending they hadn't seen. As if ignoring it would erase it from their minds.
People didn't like confronting ugly truths—even if they were dripping in blood and dragging a corpse.
His mind wandered, unbidden.
A house, burning.
A man in a white mask.
Laughter. Screams.
He shook the memory off like water and kept walking.
The iron gates loomed ahead. Tall. Cold. Familiar.
Jacob knocked twice.
The hatch opened. A guard stared out, his eyes narrow.
"Name?"
"897."
Creaking. Grinding. The gates groaned open.
The base unfolded before him—the dusty courtyard bathed in amber light from the setting sun. Soldiers milled about, tending to weapons, drilling, repairing. The scent of oil, sweat, and ozone hung heavy.
To the left, the blacksmith's chimney whispered smoke into the sky.
To the right, the barracks cast long shadows.
It should've been comforting. Familiar.
But something was missing.
Jacob stepped forward, scanning the area. His eyes caught the right-side guard sneering.
'The eyes don't lie,' Jacob thought, locking eyes with him. Something behind the guard's expression said: You don't belong here.
He turned to the left-side guard, who muttered, "You smell. Go shower. Also, Sir's calling you."
'Right… that's what was off. A free evening is never free.'
Jacob sighed and dropped the rhino at the gate. Then he trudged toward the building on the other side of the base.
He stood before the door, inhaled deeply, then knocked.
"Come in," came the voice inside.
Jacob stepped into the office, spine straight. "Sir, might I ask why you called me?"
The officer—a stern man, gray at the temples—set down a file and looked at him with sharp eyes. "How's the progress?"
Jacob stiffened. "I… I'm not quite there yet."
The officer nodded slightly. "That's alright. But you're going on another mission tomorrow. More dangerous. Hundreds of times more."
Jacob didn't flinch. "Yes, Sir."
"Dismissed."
Jacob wandered into the dorm building, exhaustion hanging on him like a second skin. He spotted the grinning man—Theo—leaning against the wall, surrounded by his usual group.
"Damn, bait, you smell like ass," Theo said with a chuckle.
Jacob kept walking. He didn't even glance his way.
"You think two solin's enough to fix your sister? Come scrub my boots while you're at it."
Jacob paused.
Then turned, eyes unreadable. A slight smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. "Why do you dote on me so much, Theo? I'm flattered, but I'm not into men."
Laughter burst out from nearby soldiers. Theo's smile froze.
His face darkened. He stepped forward, looking up into Jacob's eyes. "You'll remember my name. You'll have nightmares about it—Theo!"
Silence. Embarrassment.
Someone coughed.
'How corny is this guy?' Jacob mused.
Theo, realizing the mockery, swung.
Jacob dodged, then countered with a sharp punch to the jaw. Theo stumbled and fell back, stunned.
Then he smiled.
"Petty bastard," Jacob muttered.
Theo raised his palm, the wind beginning to stir.
Jacob's eyes widened. 'Oh come on—'
A burst of wind knocked him back, slammed him into a shack. His vision went black.
He woke up on the floor, head pounding, and dragged himself to the shower.
Water streamed down as he stared into the mirror, drying his black hair. His dark purple eyes seemed hollow under the dim lights.
'Bastard went easy on me… but if I can't even beat him… how will I take down the white masks?'
His fingers curled into fists.
'I don't just want to survive—I want to be strong enough to choose.'
Strong enough for revenge.
Later that night, Jacob lay in bed. The dorm was quiet.
His thoughts looped endlessly.
'When's it gonna be my turn… When's it gonna be my turn… When's it—'
A voice cut through the stillness, soft but sharp.
"You want to be strong? Good. I've done my part. Now it's on you—unlock Nero and get started."
Instead of waking him, the voice sent him drifting into sleep.
He jolted awake.
A blinding light surrounded him and quickly disappeared. His eyes adjusted—
Trees. Their leaves were black. The ground dark, stained with something old and ugly.
Three others stood beside him, confused.
Then—movement. Dozens of red eyes blinked open in the branches above.
Monkeys. But wrong. Tense. Twitching. Watching.
"Cursed," Jacob whispered.
The others echoed it in unison.
Thirty of them. Maybe more.
Bloodthirsty. Silent.
And they were surrounded.