Smoke still clung to the air like a veil, sour with ozone and scorched monster flesh. The crater where the Rift had torn into the landscape was a scar now—charred earth, fractured stone, blood pooled in the seams of broken asphalt. The wreckage of the battle was still settling as the field medics hurried across the destruction, dragging bodies from the wreckage.
A Silver Lions flag whipped in the wind, battered and half-burned.
Taesung sat on a broken slab of concrete, panting, his armor cracked across the chest and thigh. Blood trickled down his chin from the corner of his mouth. The last punch had felt like it crushed his insides. His ribs throbbed with each breath.
The presence was gone.
Virex had disappeared.
And the Apex Sovereign had left with the wind.
"Where's Doohyuk?" Taesung rasped. He turned his head, only to wince at the sharp pull in his neck.
A nearby medic glanced at him. "Critical. He's alive, but his arm... it's gone."
Taesung swallowed hard.
He remembered the scream. The sudden spray of red. Virex had moved like a ghost, too fast to track, and his blade—no, his hand—had cleaved clean through Doohyuk's arm. And when Taesung stepped forward to intercept, he'd been struck in the gut, lifted off his feet by the sheer force, hurled across the terrain.
We never stood a chance.
He looked to where the Apex Sovereign had stood—where the light had clashed with shadow, brilliance against dread.
Choi Daehyun.
The only SSS-rank hunter in the country. Some said he was more force of nature than man. And now, after witnessing him in motion, Taesung understood why they said that.
He hadn't fought.
He'd executed.
And even then… even then, Virex had matched him, step for step, blow for blow.
A shiver slid down Taesung's spine. That thing—no, that man. There was something human in those eyes. Not the emptiness of a monster. Not the hunger of the Riftborn.
But a memory. A fury. A purpose.
"Yoon Taesung." A voice called out.
He turned.
A convoy had arrived—armored vehicles bearing the Silver Lions Guild insignia. Seong Jinhwan stood at the head of the entourage, eyes sweeping the battlefield.
His expression was unreadable. But his fingers curled slightly at his side.
He took slow steps toward Taesung. The officers around him spread out, securing the site, barking orders to restrict comm access and isolate witnesses.
Jinhwan stopped just a few meters from him.
"You alive?"
"Barely," Taesung said, voice hoarse.
"Good." Jinhwan's eyes narrowed. "Come with me. Now."
They crossed through the wounded field—past broken bones and shattered gear, the smell of burnt Rift mana still lingering in the air. They entered a temporary command tent that had been set up at the edge of the blast zone. It reeked of antiseptic and silence.
Inside, a low table. Two folding chairs. A dim light.
Jinhwan sat.
So did Taesung.
He stared at Taesung for a moment longer than necessary, then finally said, "Tell me exactly what happened."
Taesung's jaw clenched. "You already have the combat feed."
"I want your eyes. Your words. Not a sensor feed."
Taesung leaned forward, wincing at the pain in his side. "He didn't act like a monster. Not entirely. He was… aware. Strategic. Even the way he moved… it was like he was testing us."
"Testing?" Jinhwan echoed, brows furrowing.
Taesung nodded slowly. "And when Choi Daehyun arrived—Virex didn't retreat in panic. It was calculated. As if he was gathering data."
Jinhwan remained quiet for a long moment. The tent seemed to constrict with the silence.
Then: "You saw his face?"
"Yes," Taesung said.
"Describe it."
Taesung tried. He really did. But the features blurred in his mind—only pieces remained. Sharp blue eyes. A mask with slashes. Dark hair. He opened his mouth to speak—
—and stopped.
A whisper. Faint. In the back of his skull.
You're not ready.
His fingers trembled slightly.
"I… I can't remember," he said, swallowing.
Jinhwan studied him. "That's normal," he said. "Some Rift entities affect cognition. You may have been exposed."
"You're not surprised."
"I've seen stranger."
Taesung raised his gaze. "You've seen him before."
Jinhwan didn't deny it.
He stood instead, moving to the side of the tent. A gust of wind pushed against the canvas. His silhouette looked heavier somehow.
"There are things our guild doesn't talk about openly," Jinhwan said. "Things we keep from the public. From even our own hunters."
"Like what?"
"Like the fact that Virex… isn't a new anomaly."
Taesung stood slowly. His injuries screamed, but he ignored them.
"You knew this was possible."
"We suspected something," Jinhwan said. "Not this."
"And you sent us in anyway?"
Jinhwan turned, his face cold. "You joined a guild, Taesung. Not a daycare. The Rift doesn't hand out fair fights."
That stung.
But it wasn't wrong.
Still—Taesung couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been used.
Like bait.
Suddenly, the air in the tent shifted.
A pressure built inside his skull—a phantom weight pressing into his thoughts. He gasped, clutching his head, stumbling slightly.
"Taesung?" Jinhwan took a step forward.
But Taesung was elsewhere.
Darkness. An empty void. And in it—
A flicker.
A figure.
A voice—calm, layered, ancient:
"The blade remembers. And so will you."
Then it was gone.
He slumped to one knee, breath ragged.
Jinhwan knelt beside him. "What was that?"
Taesung's eyes widened. "I don't know."
But a part of him did.
---
The next morning, Seoul carried on like nothing had happened.
News of the Rift attack was controlled, filtered. Only designated narratives were released: a Class B rift surge, casualties contained, situation handled.
No mention of Virex. No mention of the Apex Sovereign.
Taesung sat alone in his apartment, bandaged, staring at the faint glow of his phone screen.
No new messages.
No calls.
Only silence.
He stood and walked to the bathroom. Turned on the light.
The mirror greeted him.
He didn't recognize the man staring back.
Not just the bruises. Not the cut on his brow.
But something in the eyes.
The same echo he'd seen in Virex.
The same haunting weight.
What are you turning me into?
The mirror had no answer.