The ruins fell into silence once again.
Only the wind whispered between the broken stone pillars.
Ethan Carter stood still, staring at his own hand.
Moments ago—
He had stopped Allen.
Not by luck.
Not by instinct.
But by something else.
Something… inside him.
The faint silver glow that had flickered through his blood had already faded, but the feeling remained—deep, coiled beneath his skin, like a sleeping beast.
"What… was that?"
His voice was low, almost uncertain.
Across from him, the woman didn't answer immediately.
She was crouched beside Allen, checking his pulse again. The dark veins had stopped spreading—for now.
"He's stable," she said finally.
Ethan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Good… at least one of us isn't turning into a monster tonight."
The woman glanced at him.
"You're taking this surprisingly well."
Ethan gave a dry laugh.
"I just got bitten by a half-wolf, my blood turned silver, and I almost broke his wrist without trying."
He paused.
"…If I don't laugh, I might panic."
For a brief second—
The corner of her lips moved.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
Ethan noticed.
"Wow," he said, raising an eyebrow. "So you can make expressions."
"Don't get used to it," she replied coldly, standing up.
There was a short silence.
Then—
She turned to him, her gaze sharp.
"Your blood."
Ethan looked down at his arm.
The bite wound was still there.
But something was off.
The bleeding had already slowed. The torn flesh… was closing.
Not completely.
But faster than it should.
"…Yeah. That's not normal, right?"
"No," she said. "Not normal at all."
She stepped closer.
"Show me."
Ethan hesitated for half a second, then extended his arm.
She grabbed his wrist, her grip firm.
Her fingers were cold.
She examined the wound carefully, her eyes narrowing.
Then—
She took out her dagger.
"Hey—wait, what are you—"
Before he could finish—
Slice.
She cut lightly across his palm.
"Are you serious?!" Ethan snapped, pulling his hand back. "I just got bitten, and now you're adding more damage?"
"Relax," she said calmly. "I need to see it."
"See what? My pain tolerance?"
But then—
He stopped.
Both of them looked down.
The blood dripping from his palm—
Was silver.
Not red.
Not even mixed.
Pure silver.
Like liquid metal under the moonlight.
Ethan went quiet.
"…Okay. That's new."
The woman's expression changed.
This time—
There was no hiding it.
Shock.
"This shouldn't exist," she murmured.
Ethan blinked. "That's not exactly comforting."
She looked up at him.
"Silver Blood is not a mutation."
"It's not a curse."
"It's something else."
"Something older."
Ethan crossed his arms slightly.
"…You're gonna have to explain that better."
She took a breath.
Then, for the first time—
She spoke not as a fighter.
But as someone telling a story.
---
"Werewolves," she began, "are not natural creatures."
"They're born from a curse. A corrupted bloodline that spreads through infection."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Yeah, I figured that part out when one tried to eat me."
She ignored that.
"But there's another bloodline."
"One that doesn't come from corruption."
"One that exists to hunt them."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Let me guess… mine?"
She met his gaze.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then Ethan said:
"…Great. So instead of becoming wolf food, I became wolf control."
"That's not how it works," she said flatly.
Ethan shrugged.
"Worth a shot."
For a brief moment—
The tension broke.
Even she seemed slightly less rigid.
Then she continued.
"Silver Blood carriers are extremely rare."
"Most of them are born, not made."
Ethan frowned.
"…So why do I have it?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Which was answer enough.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"Then we're both guessing," Ethan said. "That's reassuring."
She ignored the sarcasm.
"But one thing is certain."
She stepped closer again.
"When your blood awakens…"
"You are no longer fully human."
The words hung in the air.
Ethan didn't respond right away.
Instead, he looked at Allen.
Then at his own hand.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "I figured."
---
A few minutes passed in silence.
Then Ethan suddenly spoke again.
"So… what can I do?"
She looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he gestured vaguely, "if I'm part whatever-this-is, what are the perks?"
She stared at him.
"…Perks?"
"Yeah. You know. Strength? Speed? Night vision? Do I get a cool entrance theme too?"
She blinked once.
Then—
For the first time—
She actually laughed.
A short, quiet sound.
But real.
Ethan grinned.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
Her expression returned to neutral quickly.
"Your body has already begun adapting."
"You're stronger than before. Faster. Your senses are enhanced."
Ethan nodded.
"Yeah, I noticed that part when I didn't die five minutes ago."
"But," she continued, "you're not in control yet."
"And that's dangerous."
"How dangerous?" Ethan asked.
She met his eyes.
"If you lose control…"
"You won't become a wolf."
"You'll become something worse."
Silence fell again.
"…Great," Ethan muttered. "Love that for me."
---
Suddenly—
She froze.
Ethan noticed immediately.
"What?"
She didn't answer.
Her eyes were fixed on the forest.
Then—
Ethan heard it too.
Footsteps.
Not wolves.
Not animals.
Too steady.
Too organized.
More than one.
Ethan's expression changed.
"Friends of yours?"
"No," she said coldly.
"…Then I'm guessing they're not here to help."
From the shadows—
Figures began to emerge.
Cloaked.
Armed.
At least five of them.
More behind.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
"…Okay. That's a lot."
The woman stepped forward, placing herself between them and Allen.
Her voice dropped.
"They found us faster than I expected."
Ethan rolled his shoulder, gripping his knife.
The silver pulse beneath his skin flickered faintly.
"…So what's the plan?"
She didn't look back.
"We don't run this time."
A pause.
Then she added—
"Tonight…"
"We fight."
The cloaked figures stopped just outside the ruins.
One of them stepped forward.
Slowly raising his hand—
Pointing at Ethan.
"…Silver Blood," he said.
His voice carried across the ruins like a whisper of death.
"We've finally found you."
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"…Yeah?"
He tightened his grip.
A faint silver glow spread through his veins again.
"Bad timing."
The wind howled.
The night held its breath.
And then—
Everything was about to explode.