The night was supposed to be calm.
Eli was only a few streets away from his house when he stopped. His ears twitched. A sound—low, muffled—drifted faintly on the wind. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, the forest still playing tricks on him. But no. It was there again. A dull, throbbing boom, like thunder in the distance.
He frowned. His steps slowed. The noise wasn't natural.
That… sounded like an explosion.
Eli glanced toward the city. His body hesitated, torn between home and curiosity. But the decision was quick. If the sound was trouble, Monroe would be there. And if Monroe was there, Eli had no choice but to follow.
So he turned, jogging toward the noise.
The deeper into the city he went, the clearer it became. The muffled booms grew sharper, louder, rolling through the streets. Dust clouds were beginning to rise above rooftops. The air itself felt heavy, vibrating with distant blasts.
By the time Eli reached the heart of the city, his chest tightened.
Chaos.
Flames painted the streets in twisted shadows. Several buildings were cracked open, spilling debris and smoke. People ran, shouting, scattering in every direction. A mother pulled her child along. A merchant abandoned his cart. The stench of burning wood mixed with something metallic.
The city he had walked through countless times was now unrecognizable.
Eli clenched his jaw, scanning the chaos. "Monroe…" he muttered, trying to pick out even the faintest trace of him.
But before he could move further, a figure stepped out from the side alley.
The sound of boots splashing into puddles made Eli snap his head around.
A huge man emerged, broad shoulders filling the narrow space. His chest was bare, smeared dark with wet stains. His hands… his hands dripped with blood that was clearly not his own. Dangling from his right grip was a limp man, clothes torn, his face pale.
The big man raised his catch high into the air as if showing him off to the night sky.
"P-please… spare me…" the victim begged, voice cracking.
The giant tilted his head, grin splitting wide. His eyes burned with a wild, animalistic gleam.
And then without hesitation he ripped the man's legs from his body. using nothing but his bare hands
The man's scream cut through the streets, shrill and raw. Eli froze for half a heartbeat, his stomach twisting.
The giant didn't stop. His left hand drove forward, piercing straight through his victim's torso. The scream choked off, replaced by silence. The lifeless body dangled for a breath before being tossed aside like discarded cloth.
Eli's grip tightened around the daggers at his waist.
The huge man turned, his expression stretching into a twisted smile. His teeth gleamed in the firelight as he looked directly at Eli.
"Ah…" the man growled, voice deep and heavy. "…another livestock."
Eli's eyes hardened. His hands slid the daggers free. The moonlight bounced across their jagged edges as he lowered into a stance. His knees bent, his shoulders squared.
The streets were alive with firelight and dust, but in that moment, only two figures mattered—Eli, and the monster of a man in front of him.
The tension snapped in the air like a bowstring pulled too tight.
---
At the same time, somewhere deeper in the city—
A man wearing a black coat stood in the center of a wide street, hands tucked lazily into his pockets. His purple hair fluttered in the wind and his amethyst eyes glistened in the fires, as his pale white skin bathed in the moon's ethereal radiance.
Around him, at least a two hundred figures cloaked in black surrounded him. Some perched on rooftops like birds of prey, others floated slightly above the ground, while the rest filled the street with silent menace. Their masks caught the firelight, identical and faceless.
Monroe's shoulders slouched, his expression blank with boredom. He tilted his head, letting out a sigh that seemed louder than the chaos around him.
"This is getting quite boring, don't you think?" he said, voice laced with sarcasm. "I mean really… how many times is this….. you guys just keep surrounding me…..hahah honestly I expected more."
None of the black-clad figures responded. Their silence was heavy, deliberate.
Monroe scratched the back of his neck, then raised his brows his eyes scanning around as if waiting for something….or someone. "Well?. When will you arrive and clean up your mess, huh?"
His tone sharpened slightly, though the smirk tugging at his lips never faded. "Or should I keep babysitting until then?"
He let his words hang for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. His stance remained relaxed, but his presence was like a storm held back by the thinnest leash.
Then—
His posture shifted. Shoulders rolled back. His head tilted up, his eyes narrowing into the distance.
For the first time that night, Monroe's lips curved into a genuine smile.
"Well, well," he murmured. "Speak of the Devil."
---
Far away, cloaked in darkness, another figure moved.
The night swallowed most of his features, leaving only an outline visible. His form blended seamlessly with the shadows, as though he were born from them. His arms crossed loosely, his breathing calm.
From his vantage point, the burning city stretched beneath him like a battlefield waiting to be claimed.
His head turned slightly, eyes locking onto a point in the distance.
A low voice escaped his lips, steady and deliberate.
"So," he said, a faint edge in his tone. "You've arrived."
The words cut through the night like a blade.
---