Mike tore through the last line of guards like paper.
Limbs snapped. Bones broke. Blood painted the asphalt of the military base behind him. The reinforced medical facility—now just a wreck of smoke, alarms, and silence.
He didn't look back.
Ahead, past the fences, he saw trees—dark and dense, calling to him.
He ran straight for the forest.
Mike found a creek, the water trickling cold over the rocks. He crouched by the edge, scrubbing at the dried blood on his arms, his face, under his nails.
The water turned red.
Behind him, a rustle in the brush.
Mike turned.
A man stepped through the trees. Huge. Broad-shouldered. Grizzled beard. Calm eyes. He didn't raise a weapon. Just lifted his hands, palms exposed.
"Easy now," the man said. "I mean no harm. Hell of a feat you just pulled off back there."
He cleared his throat.
"I'm the chosen of Woden. He told me you were coming. Said you're a beast even he wouldn't hunt. My job's simple—I offer help. If you don't want it, I walk."
Mike blinked. His breathing slowed.
"Trust the Wild Hunt," the voice growled in his mind.
For once, not angry.
"I'm Mike," he said.
The man nodded. "Name's Hunter. Let's get you cleaned up proper and out of here. I'm not the only one who was sent to find you."
He tossed Mike a bag. Inside—clothes, boots, and a battered jacket.
Mike dressed quickly, then followed Hunter to a rusted-out pickup truck buried beneath the tree line.
They climbed in. Engine turned. Gravel kicked behind the wheels.
"Where are you taking me?" Mike asked.
Hunter glanced over. "First? Somewhere you can eat. A starving beast is a dangerous beast."
"I'm hungry," Mike said bluntly.
"That much killing'll do it," Hunter replied, chuckling.
They drove in silence for a while. Trees gave way to back roads. Civilization crept in around the edges.
"Once you've eaten," Hunter said, "we're going to meet others. Like us. They might have answers you're looking for."
"I want to find the demons," Mike said. "I need to kill them."
Hunter's face darkened. "Nobody knows where they are. Creatures of the night—impossible to track. Why're you so eager?"
"They killed my wife."
Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Demons are wicked, but they don't hunt without purpose. Just because some coward in a uniform said it, doesn't make it true."
Mike's voice hardened. "You knew him? That he was a coward?"
Hunter smirked. "I could smell the fear in the blood you were washing off. Perk of the Wild Hunt. Blood tells stories."
He added, laughing, "All that blood you were wearing? Including the angel's? That's how I found you. But your blood…" he paused, "...has no fear. I can't track what doesn't fear."
"I see," Mike muttered.
"You keep saying 'chosen,' and Woden," Mike added. "Who is that?"
"You really don't know anything, huh?" Hunter said, shaking his head. "Woden is god of the Wild Hunt. I passed his trial. It changed me. I became stronger, faster. One with the forest."
He grinned. "And the smell? It's the strangest part. Like I said—blood speaks."
"Is that the Nordic god?" Mike asked
Hunter replies "Woden is a German god. Over time people have confused the two. Woden leads the wild hunt through the Black Forest. The one from all the Fairytales filled with all sorts or monstrous beasts." Then with nodding gesture towards Mike he adds, "Nothing as monstrous as you though I bet."
"Lesser gods would be fools to hunt me." The voice interjects.
Mike leaned forward. "I see. Do you know whose trial I passed?"
Hunter's face went neutral. "I don't. And Woden told me it's not our place to interfere."
"Hunter is not stupid," the voice murmured in Mike's mind.
Mike growled under his breath. "Whatever it is… it barely speaks. No answers. No help."
"Give it time," Hunter said, pulling into a parking lot. A small diner stood in the clearing.
"Not here," Hunter added. "Eat first. Then we can talk again."
An hour later, full plates cleared and silence stretched thin, they were back in the truck.
Hunter took the wheel again.
"We're headed to a place where others like us gather. Gods. Chosen. People who've passed trials. They'll answer what I can't."
Mike looked out the window. The city crept closer, its skyline broken by something strange—familiar.
A massive white dome rose in the distance.
His pulse spiked.
He leaned forward, eyes wide. "What is that building?!"
Startled by the outburst, Hunter replied, "That's the Temple of the Gods. And it's where we're going."
Mike's hands curled into fists in his lap.
"That building… I've seen it. I lived inside it. But it was old. Broken."
Hunter nodded. "Only certain gods use the Temple. Their statues are kept inside. It's a sacred place—but there are hierarchies.
You'll meet some of those who dwell within."
"So is Woden a lesser god?" Mike asks.
"Hey! If there is one thing all gods have, it's a fucking ego. And immortals have no issue holding grudges. Like I said before, there is a hierarchy but try to avoid the term lesser God, especially in front of their chosen. They can hear you." Hunter replies shaking his head.
"Do not repeat my words. You are not strong enough to carry their weight." The voice growled.
Mike flinched at the words from the voice. Thinking about the temple he remembered the dragon statue.
His mind raced.
He needed answers.
And he had to find that statue.