The night air suddenly turned biting cold. The streetlights on the outskirts of Antares flickered erratically, as if reluctant to illuminate anything for too long. The small stall still stood deserted, leaving behind the smell of oil and cigarette smoke.
Rio took a slow step toward his motorcycle. Something felt wrong—not a sound, but the atmosphere. An unnatural silence. As if the night itself were holding its breath.
The knife is still tucked inside my jacket. But I know drawing it now would be suicide.
The stall vendor stood motionless. Then he lifted his face.
Those eyes—glowing red.
The sclera of his eyes blackened. His skin slowly grew pale.
A faint sound came from his jaw, krek… krek, as if his bones were being forcibly twisted into a position they shouldn't be.
His neck tensed, and from beneath his skin, black veins slowly emerged, protruding like roots growing too fast.
His fingernails lengthened, their tips curving like steel claws.
And the small smile on his face now twisted into a grin… thirsty for blood.
That was no longer a human.
Rio froze for a fraction of a second.
His right hand reflexively touched the handle of the knife inside his jacket. But then he looked toward his motorcycle.
Two tall men were already standing there, right next to his vehicle.
Their eyes blazed red, wide smiles plastered on their pale faces.
As if they already knew… that was where their prey would run.
Rio evaluated the situation in a split second.
The knife in my jacket would be useless.
Their movements are faster than my reflexes.
He's not a coward.
But one kid against three predators?
That's not courage. That's death.
"They've got me surrounded... dammit..." he muttered internally, his breathing growing heavy.
"I might be able to take one, but three? This is suicide."
Without a second thought, he spun around and bolted down a small path between the trees, away from the three of them.
The thudding footsteps of the Eaters began to sound out behind him, heavy but fast, leaving almost no gap.
The vendor—now transformed—stared at Rio with blazing red eyes.
His smile widened, like a predator who knows its prey has no escape.
"Run, little human…" he mumbled, almost a whisper. "Make this fun for us."
And they began to run.
Their speed was inhuman. Their steps didn't sound like human footfalls, but more like a wild beast ready to pounce.
Without looking back, Rio could feel the bloodthirsty aura enveloping his back.
"This path is dark, full of trees. I have to slow them down, break their line of sight!"
He immediately veered into a narrower area, a service path commonly used by electricians.
While still running, Rio grabbed several trash cans and old wooden planks from the side of the path, shoving them behind him to block their way.
One of the Eaters leaped—so high it nearly touched the power lines—lunging for Rio.
But with a quick reflex, Rio rolled on the ground and kicked a loose brick toward its face. Weak? Yes. But enough to distract it for a split second.
"I'm not a fighter. I just have my brain. Use it, Rio," he whispered.
He kept running, but his mind kept spinning.
"There's a steep incline and a sharp drop ahead. If I can just reach that big tree trunk..."
He jumped, grabbing a protruding tree root, and pulled himself up—but before he could get to the other side.
One of the Eaters grabbed the hood of his jacket from behind.
Quickly, Rio shed the jacket and threw himself downward, letting his body tumble down the slippery slope covered in dirt and wet leaves.
His body slammed hard several times, but he managed to land—though his knee was throbbing and his hands were scraped and bloody.
He got up, his body trembling.
The sound of snapping branches and feral snarls grew closer. The Eaters were nimbly descending the slope.
Rio ran again, this time toward a narrow street between two old, abandoned buildings.
Dark.
The smell of dampness.
But he knew this place—he had hidden here as a child.
"Come on, Rio, a little further. You can make it..."
But before he could reach the narrow alley under the bridge—
BRUUUGG!!
A heavy blow slammed into the side of his neck from the left, sending his body flying onto the asphalt. His vision spun violently. The world seemed to collapse with it. His surroundings blurred, and sound became a distorted echo.
"Ah... w-what... is this..."
His head was slammed against the asphalt.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Every impact sliced away at his consciousness. Every thud was an echo of a fate that could not be avoided.
"I'm going to die... here..." he thought faintly.
The Eater's breath was a heavy growl in his ear, harsh and hot.
Its sharp, sickle-like claws scraped Rio's scalp as it pulled his hair.
The putrid smell of blood and raw flesh filled his senses.
Then it slammed Rio's head against the ground again.
"It hurts... my body... it's hard to even breathe..."
Blood flowed from his temple. His eyes were nearly closed. But more than the physical pain, another, deeper wound struck him harder.
"Mom..." he thought bitterly.
"I failed. I promised I'd avenge you... but look at me now."
"Look at your son, able to do nothing but run like a coward. All talk and no nerve. Can't even survive."
Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, mixing with the blood that soaked his face.
"I'm sorry, Mom... I couldn't even last long enough to keep my promise. I'm unworthy of living... if I'm just going to die like this, alone, on this filthy ground..."
A sharp claw moved toward his neck. Rio stared at it, helpless. Unable to even move.
"If this is my end... at least... I can see my mother's face in my mind one last time..."
His mother's smile. The gentle hand that used to caress him. The light of the small kitchen. The aroma of a warm meal. A soft laugh.
"I want to go home... to your embrace, Mom..."
The night wind whispered softly.
The sharp claw aimed at his neck.
Rio stared at it. Resigned. Silent.
His heart beat... once... twice... then seemed to stop.
"Mom... I'm sorry..."
And just as the claw was raised, ready to end everything—
"SRRRRTT!!!"
A spray of warm blood hit Rio's face…
But it wasn't his.
Rio's eyes widened slowly, though they were half-covered in blood. Before him, the Eater's hand was severed, falling to the asphalt with a wet smack. The creature's body convulsed, thrown back with an unnatural shriek—like metal being forced to groan.
Between them, a figure stood.
His black cloak fluttered gently in the night wind. The longsword in his hand was still dripping with fresh blood, gleaming under the moonlight. The figure didn't speak. Didn't turn.
Just stood firm... like a wall between prey and predator.
Rio was silent. His breathing was heavy and ragged. His vision was blurry, but he could see the figure's blond hair—glowing faintly like a strand of light lost in the darkness.
"W-who…?"
The cloaked figure stepped forward. Without giving it time to react, he slashed the Eater that tried to lunge from the side. His movements were fast, precise. The Eater's body was split from shoulder to hip, falling without a sound.
The last one charged from behind—but the man spun as fast as a shadow, raising his sword high, then slamming it down. The thud of metal striking flesh. The Eater's shoulder was crushed, its bones snapping like a dry twig underfoot.
Rio could only watch—his eyes glassy, his body unable to move.
The faint sounds began to disappear. The world around him faded into a fog.
The figure approached, leaning down slightly, and Rio caught a glimpse of his silver eyes—cold but calm. Not the eyes of someone who had come to kill.
But to save.
"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice soft, almost inaudible.
And darkness claimed Rio…
…but this time, with gentleness, not death.