Morning in the Den began the same way it always did—cold stone, steel, and the quiet tension of people who knew monsters existed beyond the walls.
Kael stood in the center of the courtyard.
His arms were stretched out to the sides. Two iron buckets hung from ropes tied to his wrists. Another bucket balanced carefully on his head. Water inside them trembled every time his muscles shook.
Arthur stood a few steps away, arms crossed.
"Stability," he said calmly, "is the first thing pathetic recruits lack."
Kael ignored.
Arthur had been calling him that since the day he arrived.
At first it made Kael angry. Now it was just another part of training.
The buckets were heavier than they looked. The ropes cut into his wrists, and his shoulders felt like they were burning.
"Your body moves before your mind," Arthur continued. "When you swing a sword like that, you lose balance. When you lose balance, you die. And when you die our resources are wasted."
A drop of water spilled from the bucket on Kael's head.
His arms began shaking.
Arthur watched silently.
Seconds later the buckets slipped from Kael's wrists and crashed onto the stone floor, water splashing everywhere.
Arthur sighed.
"Pathetic."
Kael clenched his jaw but didn't respond.
Arthur walked forward, picked up the buckets, and refilled them from a nearby barrel.
"Again."
Kael lifted his arms.
The cold water dripped down his sleeves. The metal handles pressed painfully into his skin.
Minutes passed.
The courtyard was quiet except for the sound of dripping water and the distant echoes of swords clashing from other training areas.
Arthur circled him like a hawk watching prey.
Five minutes.
Seven minutes.
Kael's arms trembled again.
The bucket on his head tipped slightly.
Water spilled.
The buckets fell.
Arthur caught one before it hit the ground and set it back in place.
"Again."
Kael breathed heavily.
Sweat ran down his neck despite the cold air.
He lifted his arms once more.
This time he focused on something Arthur had said earlier that morning.
Your body moves before your mind.
So he slowed his breathing.
He planted his feet firmly.
His back straightened.
The shaking stopped.
Arthur stopped walking.
He watched carefully.
A minute passed.
Then two.
Then five.
The buckets remained perfectly still.
Arthur raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Ten minutes later, Kael finally lowered his arms and let the buckets drop.
He bent forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
Arthur nodded slightly.
"Better."
Kael wiped sweat from his forehead.
For Arthur, that was practically praise.
Kael was about to head toward the warm room when suddenly—
🚨WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A siren tore through the Den.
Every hunter in the courtyard froze.
Another siren followed.
Arthur's expression changed instantly.
A guard ran into the yard.
"Sector 11!" he shouted. "Dami sighted!"
The entire courtyard exploded into movement.
Hunters grabbed weapons.
Armor clanked.
Boots pounded against stone.
Arthur grabbed his sword and turned to Arian.
"Squad 11 and Squad 8 are deploying."
Then he pointed at Kael.
"You."
His eyes were cold.
"Stay back."
He looked at Arian.
"Keep him out of the fight."
Arian nodded.
"Understood."
Within minutes the squads were moving through the underground tunnels toward Sector 11.
The further they went, the heavier the air felt.
Smoke drifted through the corridors.
People were running in the opposite direction—civilians being evacuated.
Then they reached the exit gate.
The moment Kael stepped outside, he saw it.
The Dami.
It towered above the street like a nightmare made of flesh.
Its body looked like dozens of human forms melted together—arms or shall I say tentacles growing where they shouldn't, twisted bones pushing through pale skin.
Its movements were erratic, violent, unnatural.
Hunters surrounded it.
Arthur screamed "Left flank—move!"
A swarm of drones were released, creating a dome over the entire area.
Steel cut the air as two hunters from Squad 8 broke formation, blades low, feet sliding across shattered concrete. A tendril lashed toward them fast, making an complete arc in full velocity
"Down!"
They dropped. The strike tore past, slamming into the ground and cracking it open.
"Squad 11, now!"
From the right, three figures surged forward in sync. Black blades flashed—clean, precise. One sliced through the tendril mid-air, another drove straight into the main mass, forcing it to recoil.
"Pressure it, don't let it fold!" Arthur's voice cut through the chaos, steady, commanding.
He moved before anyone answered.
A blur.
Arthur stepped into range, pivoted, and drove his blade deep into the writhing body. The creature convulsed, its surface rippling like unstable flesh trying to reshape itself.
"Carla—do the monk cut" said Artemidorus
"I see it!"
Carla was already moving.
She slid under a sweeping strike, boots scraping sparks off the ground, then twisted upward—her blade carving a sharp arc. A section of the creature split open, exposing a darker center beneath.
It pulsed.
"Now!"
Two hunters from Squad 11 lunged together. Their strikes landed almost simultaneously—one to hold the opening, the other to deepen it.
The creature shrieked—not a sound, but a vibration that made the air feel wrong.
"Back!" Arthur snapped.
Too late.
A second tendril erupted from the side, faster than the last.
It caught one of the Squad 8 hunters mid-motion and flung him across the street. He hit hard, rolled, didn't get up.
"Don't break formation!" Carla shouted. "Rotate!"
They shifted instantly.
Squad 8 pulled back, covering. Squad 11 pushed forward.all in a rhythm that was possible through tears of training and coordination.
The creature tried to close its wound—flesh knitting, pulling inward—
Arthur stepped in again.
"No you don't."
His blade bent and flicked.
His sword turming into burning bright, controlled. He drove it straight into the exposed section.
The regeneration stalled.
The mass recoiled violently, slamming into nearby structures, tearing through metal and stone alike.
"Hold it open!" Carla yelled.
"I'm holding!"
A hunter braced both feet, blade lodged deep, arms shaking as the creature tried to crush inward.
Carla dashed forward, low and fast. Another tendril came for her—
She didn't dodge.
She cut.
Clean. Direct. The strike severed it before it could complete its arc.
She didn't stop moving.
"Arthur, two seconds!"
"You have one."
"Then make it count."
Kael watched from behind a fractured wall, breath uneven, one hand pressed against his side. Blood seeped through his fingers.
"Stay down!" Arian said
"I can—"
"You can't."
Kael clenched his jaw, eyes locked on the fight.
The hunters moved like they'd done this a hundred times.
No hesitation. Just perfect timing
Carla reached the top.
Up close, it pulsed harder, reacting, sensing.
"Ugly thing," she muttered.
The creature surged.
Arthur moved.
He stepped in beside her without a word, blade still burning.
"Together," Carla said.
Arthur didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
They struck.
Two blades—one flame-lined, one cold and precise—drove into the core from opposite angles.
The creature spasmed.
Hard.
Kael pinged from his spot, blocking a tendrils and slicing another, the tendrils dropped down
The ground shook under the force of it.
"Push!" Carla shouted.
A hunter blocked tendrils and moved, kael collided with him.
Both of them crashed onto the ground.
At that exact moment the Dami's massive limb smashed down beside them.
Stone shattered.
Pain exploded through Kael's ribs.
Arthur saw everything.
He rushed over immediately.
"What did I say?"
His glare moved to Arian.
"And you let him fight?"
Arthur held Kael by the collar and threw him onto Arian.
Squad 11 locked the outer mass in place, blades digging in, preventing movement. Squad 8 cut down anything that tried to break off or regenerate.
The dami core cracked.
A sharp, splitting sound.
Then—
Silence.
The mass collapsed inward, losing shape, losing resistance. The tendrils dropped, lifeless.
Arthur pulled his blade free first. The flames died instantly.
Carla stepped back, exhaling slowly. "That was tighter than I like."
"You hesitated," Arthur said.
Carla glanced at him. "I adjusted."
Arthur didn't argue.
Around them, the squads began resetting positions, checking injuries, dragging the fallen back.
Artemidorus "finish the cleanup, keep in mind the regular people must not realize what happened"
One of the cleanup crew looked toward Kael.
"He's still breathing."
Kael let out a weak breath. "Barely."
Carla walked over, stopping just short of him. She looked down, then smirked faintly.
"Good," she said. "Means you get to watch the next one too."
Arthur didn't look at Kael. He was too dissapointed
"Move out," he ordered.
And just like that—
They were already preparing for the next fight
-----At the Den------
The warm room felt completely different from the battlefield.
Steam rose from heating pipes along the walls.
The smell of medicine filled the air.
Kael sat on a wooden bench while a medic wrapped bandages around his ribs.
"Nothing broken," the medic said.
"Just bruised."
Kael nodded.
As the medic left, Kael noticed someone sitting quietly across the room.
Artemidorus.
The man looked like he had been waiting.
Kael frowned.
"You told me to come here."
Artemidorus nodded.
"Yes."
Kael leaned forward.
"Then answer me."
His voice hardened.
"Why does nobody out of here know the truth?"
Artemidorus remained silent.
Kael continued.
"Edward saw the Dami that day."
"My entire city saw the destruction."
"So why does everyone think it was a fire?"
"Why are you hiding it?"
Artemidorus sighed.
"You think you can save the world, huh?"
Kael frowned.
"The world is already broken," the old man continued quietly.
"Rigged."
Kael shook his head.
"Stop murmuring nonsense."
"I want answers."
Artemidorus leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me something."
"If your family knew that creatures like the Dami existed…"
"…creatures that destroy homes and rip people apart…"
He paused.
"Would your life have been better?"
Kael hesitated.
Artemidorus continued.
"Or is it better now?"
Kael clenched his fists.
"But if we knew, then we could've had a cure , or the military could fight them. We could research them,We could prepare."
Artemidorus gave a tired smile.
"You saw that thing today."
"No soldier could stop it."
"Only we could."
Silence filled the room.
"And if the world knew?" Artemidorus said softly.
"Fear and Panic. That would've collapsed everything before any reasearch"
His eyes looked older than ever.
"Truth is bitter."
"Sometimes living in a lie is kinder."
Kael slammed his fist on the table.
"Then explain Edward!"
"He saw the Dami."
"So why doesn't he remember it?"
"And why did the news say it was a fire?"
"I want answers!"
Artemidorus finally spoke.
"We erase them."
Kael froze.
"We deploy drones that release a certain frequency," Artemidorus said.
"It knocks civilians unconscious."
"Then we use a machine."
"We remove the memory of the event."
"And replace it."
"Fire."
"Explosion."
"Terror attack."
Kael stared at him in disbelief.
"But you—"
"You resisted it," Artemidorus said.
"Not because you are special. But because you were too involved with the creature that our machines can't erase."
"That's why I brought you here."
He studied Kael carefully.
"I also saw you fight."
"Your willpower is something we need."
"You could become one of the best."
Kael looked down.
"Then why is the training so harsh?"
Artemidorus pointed toward a cracked window.
Kael looked outside.
Arthur was standing in the courtyard.
Training.
Swing.
Step.
Swing.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Artemidorus spoke quietly.
"He's jealous."
Kael frowned.
"You entered the cave because I allowed it."
"He had to earn it."
"Endurance."
"Pain."
"Combat trials."
Artemidorus stood up.
"You have talent."
"But Arthur values obedience."
He walked toward the door.
"You will learn discipline from him."
He paused before leaving.
"Because if your talent isn't controlled…"
"…it will destroy you."
The door closed.
Kael sat in silence.
Outside the window, Arthur's sword kept moving.
Again.
Again. And again..