Garret walked out of the gym, the door closing behind him with a hollow echo that lingered longer than it should have. The night swallowed him instantly, a vast, starless expanse that seemed to breathe against his skin. His boots scraped against the cracked pavement as he made his way toward the girls' dormitory. The air was bitter, far too cold for a summer night. A restless wind slithered through the empty courtyards, carrying faint scents of dust and rust. He pulled the dark mantle tighter around his shoulders, feeling the fabric hum faintly, it absorbed the chill, turning it into something almost comforting.
For some reason, Garret always felt at home in nights like this. The darkness didn't scare him, it wrapped around him like an old friend, silent and watchful. The moonless sky above seemed to nod in approval. He let out a low sigh.
"Summer, and it's this cold…" he muttered. His breath misted faintly before vanishing. "When winter comes… if nothing changes, this place will freeze over."
He walked on. As he rounded the corner, the medical facility came into view. The glass doors had been shattered earlier in the day, glittering like frost under the faint light. He slowed his pace, his conversation with Eira echoing in his mind, her sharp tone, the anger behind her words. He clicked his tongue and looked away.
"Damn her."
Still, as he stood before the clinic, he couldn't shake the thought of the others, Leah's timid face, Dave's tired eyes. They needed medicine, and he was already here. Garret sighed and stepped through the broken doorway. The smell of antiseptic and decay hit him at once. Shelves lined with dusty bottles, torn bandages, and scattered papers filled the room. He moved quietly, careful not to make a sound.
"Just enough to keep them alive," he murmured, filling a small pack with whatever looked useful, antibiotics, painkillers, gauze.
When he was done, he straightened and glanced toward the window. Outside, the campus stretched into a vast sea of darkness. He could almost feel it watching him back. For a brief moment, he wondered what his sister was doing now, if she was alive, if she was warm. Then he shook his head and stepped back into the cold.
The night welcomed him again, silent and endless. As Garret made his way back toward the gym, the night felt heavier than before, thicker somehow, like the air itself had turned to tar. His footsteps echoed softly against the cracked pavement, each one swallowed faster than the last.
Then, without warning, a shiver crawled up his spine. His breathing quickened. His pulse hammered in his ears. He stopped walking. Every cell in his body screamed at him to run. It wasn't reason, it was instinct. The kind of primal dread that came from something terrifying. His muscles refused to obey, they locked in place as if the world itself had frozen around him. Garret's eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the suffocating tension. Nothing moved, no wind, no sound. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught it.
Something massive leapt across the rooftops. He turned his head slowly, too afraid to do it quickly. There, in the pale flicker of broken streetlights, a creature moved, a monstrous silhouette soaring from one building to another. Its body was that of a bull, muscles rippling beneath dark, coarse fur. But its head, its head was unmistakably leonine, crowned with a wild mane that caught the dim light like fire. The creature landed with a soundless grace, its hooves cracking the concrete beneath it, before vanishing again into the shadows.
Garret stood there, paralyzed. His mind screamed at him to flee, but his body refused to move. The sheer weight of its presence pressed down on him, suffocating and absolute. He didn't need to see its eyes to know, if it turned toward him, even for a second, he'd be dead before he could blink.
For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt truly helpless. Garret ran, at first out of instinct, his mind blank with terror. But as his boots pounded against the ground, something in him shifted. The pounding in his chest turned to a burning rhythm. The fear didn't fade… it twisted, hardening into something sharp and focused.
He stopped running. The night pressed close, suffocating. His breath came in ragged bursts, clouds of vapor against the freezing air. Behind him, the faint thud of something heavy landing on concrete echoed through the dark.
"It's following me."
Garret's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade. Every nerve screamed that this was suicide, that he should run, hide, beg if he had to. But his legs wouldn't move. A strange calm settled over him, the kind that only comes when death feels certain. Suddenly the surrounding darkness felt even darker.
The creature stepped into view. The beast scraped its hooves against the cracked earth, eyes gleaming like molten gold. The night was alive with its breath, hot and heavy. Garret steadied his footing, his body trembling from exhaustion and fear. He could barely stand, but then something inside him… shifted. The world dimmed, shadows thickened, folding inward. The air felt different, dense and humming. Light Absorption was already in action. The faint glow of the shattered streetlights faded entirely, drawn into him. Every flicker of light vanished, swallowed by the darkness that clung to his skin like smoke. The chill in the air deepened, his body pulsing with quiet, volatile energy.
His thoughts cleared, the panic, the trembling, the primal urge to run all fell away. The Adapt ability sharpened his mind like a blade honed to perfection. Every muscle, every breath, every tremor of the ground beneath him felt amplified. Then came the mantle. Its presence flooded his mind, alien, ancient, terrifying. Visions not his own flashed before his eyes. Sword masters dueling under burning suns, assassins slipping through the dark, warriors clashing against impossible odds. Their instincts became his. The weight of centuries of battle sank into his muscles. Then finally all his unused status points were converted into Strength. He was no longer a man standing before a monster, he was a living weapon. Garret inhaled slowly, the corners of his lips twitching into something close to a grin.
"So this… this is what it feels like."
The creature roared, and Garret moved. He blurred forward, faster than thought. The ground split beneath his feet as he charged, sword drawn, the darkness coiling around him like a living thing. His eyes locked onto the beast's throat. It swung its horn. He ducked, sliding beneath it, the blade flashing upward in a perfect arc. Sparks burst as steel met hide. The creature bellowed, striking blindly. Garret twisted, evading by inches, each motion too sharp, too precise, as if guided by something greater than instinct.
But even as he fought, a grim truth gnawed at the edge of his awareness. The power was devouring him. The mantle's knowledge wasn't freely given, it was forced, crammed into his body like molten metal. His nerves burned, muscles screamed, his vision pulsed red at the edges. He knew it. If he kept going, this would kill him.
And yet
A manic thrill surged through him. The fear was gone, replaced by something intoxicating. The rush of power, the raw rhythm of combat, the clarity that came with dancing on the edge of death. He laughed, a low, breathless sound and lunged again.
"If I'm dying tonight," he hissed, "then I'll die stronger than ever."