The jungle smelled like rain and metal.
Kai moved through the trees behind Lena, every step measured, silent. Night pressed in from all sides, broken only by the faint glow of tactical visors and moonlight filtering through thick leaves. The recon team spread out in a wide formation—five warriors, each keeping distance, each watching a different angle.
No one spoke.
Kai's heart beat slower than it should have. Not calm—focused. His body slid back into that familiar rhythm, as if it had always belonged here.
Lena signaled a halt.
They crouched.
Ahead, the village lay in ruins. Fires smoldered where homes once stood. Power lines sparked weakly. No movement. No sound.
"Too quiet," Darius murmured over comms.
Shen Tao, the monk, knelt and pressed two fingers to the ground. His eyes remained closed. "It passed through," he said softly. "Minutes ago."
Kai scanned the shadows. "Then why does it feel like we're being watched?"
No one answered.
Something moved.
A blur shot through the trees—fast, heavy. Darius turned—
Too late.
The Korin crashed down between them, the impact throwing dirt and bodies in every direction. Kai hit the ground hard, rolling instinctively as a shockwave split the earth where he had been.
"CONTACT!" Lena shouted.
Gunfire erupted. Bullets slammed into the Korin's armor, sparks flying, but the creature didn't slow. It grabbed one of the warriors mid-charge and hurled him into a tree with a sickening crack.
First blood.
"Spread out!" Lena ordered.
The Korin moved like a storm—brutal, precise, learning with every exchange. It blocked strikes it hadn't seen before. Countered techniques after witnessing them once.
Kai lunged without thinking.
He slid under a sweeping blow, caught the Korin's arm, twisted—hard. The joint bent farther than it should have.
The Korin snarled.
It remembered.
It slammed Kai into the ground, lifting him by the throat. Kai's vision blurred as pressure crushed his windpipe.
Then Shen Tao struck.
A palm glowed faintly as it connected with the Korin's chest. The alien staggered back, confused, not hurt—but disrupted.
"Now!" Lena shouted.
They moved as one.
Darius charged head-on. Lena flanked. Kai followed, his body reacting faster than thought. He locked the Korin's leg, using leverage, balance, timing. The creature stumbled—just for a moment.
Enough.
Explosives detonated beneath its feet, throwing it backward into the treeline. Smoke and fire swallowed the clearing.
Silence followed.
Kai lay on his back, gasping, staring at the stars through the broken canopy.
"We… we hurt it," he said.
Darius laughed, short and sharp. "No. We annoyed it."
The smoke shifted.
The Korin rose.
Burn marks scarred its armor. One glowing line flickered, dimmer than before. Its head turned slowly—calculating.
"Confirmed," it said. "Your patterns remain effective."
Kai's blood ran cold.
"Which means," the Korin continued, "I will adapt."
It leapt—vanishing into the darkness.
The forest went still again.
No one spoke.
Lena broke the silence. "We lost one."
Kai sat up slowly, guilt settling heavy in his chest. He looked at the broken ground, the blood staining the soil.
"This is what you trained me for," he said quietly, though he didn't remember the training.
Ronin's voice crackled over comms. "Extraction in two minutes."
Kai clenched his fists.
The Korin was learning.
And so was he.
But only one of them had done this before.