Chapter 4 - “Prey No More”

  Conner’s footsteps echoed through narrow alleyways, the bloodstains splashed across brick walls barely registering in his mind anymore. All he could picture was Aunt Cathy’s face—frightened, pleading. I’m coming, he thought.

  The phone in his pocket was useless, a cold reminder of the world that was gone. He needed a map. No signal. No GPS. Nothing electric had worked since this nightmare began.

  He burst onto an open street, one that used to be alive with life. Now, the air was heavy and stale. He remembered how vendors used to holler at everyone, bartering with passersby, kids running through crowds—but Now, all that remained was dust and silence it was like walking through the bones of a memory.

  He paused at the foot of a crumbling office building. There, bolted beside the cracked glass door, was an old metal-framed city map—weather-worn, its laminate bubbled and peeling.

  Conner scanned the streets, fingers trembling slightly as he traced the route to Aunt Cathy’s workplace. Block 17. East Sector. Fifth floor. That was the last place she had messaged from.

  His eyes darted to nearby street signs—one was missing, another had been spray-painted over in red.

  Nothing made sense anymore.

  Then—something else.

  Then, a sound—faint, guttural.

  A growl.

  Conner ducked behind a wall, heart hammering. The growl faded into a tense silence that screamed danger. He shifted slightly—just enough to make a sound.

  His shirt clung to his back—sweat, not from running, but from fear.

  The growl returned. Closer. He crept backward, slow and careful—but then, crack! His foot hit loose rubble and he tumbled.

  His eyes snapped forward.

  From the darkness came a click, clack, clump—each step heavier than the last.

  The beast emerged, sniffing the air.

  Its mouth was open too wide, jaw unhinged like broken furniture, a slick tongue dragging across the concrete like it wanted to taste his shadow

  It had no eyes.

  Jaw stretched, raw flesh over a dog-like frame, thick claws, slick muscle, and a wide gaping maw leaking foul black sludge. It sniffed the air with manic jerks, head twitching toward Conner's location.

  It found him.

  It shrieked—a sound like metal scraping bone—and lunged.

  Conner rolled aside just in time. The beast skidded off the pavement with a harsh screech. He bolted down the road, lungs burning.

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  It was faster.

  Quadrupedal and relentless, it thundered after him, claws tearing into the ground. Conner spotted an open door, sprinted for it, slammed it shut behind him, and rammed a metal rod through the handles.

  BAM! The door buckled under the impact. He turned. It was a warehouse—rusted stairs, rotting walls, piles of metal scrap and old rebars in broken crates.

  Another slam.

  He had to act. He wasn’t getting away.

  He ran up the stairs, blade in hand. Every clang of his boots sent echoes through the hollow structure.

  BAM! The door cracked.

  "This thing’s faster. Stronger. I can’t beat it head on. But it’s also heavier. Maybe I can let gravity do its thing!"

  He stopped on a rusted upper platform, half-welded and groaning under weight. He knew what to do.

  CRASH! The door burst open.

  The beast charged inside, snarling. It was angry.

  Their eyes met. It saw him.

  Conner had a plan.

  He waited on the narrow, rusting metal platform, heart pounding, blade clenched tight in his shaking hands. The creature below, snarled and pawed at the stairs, claws tearing up the corroded steps as it bounded up in a frenzy.

  Conner raised the blade.

  The monster lunged. He swung sideways—steel against flesh. Sparks. A shallow cut. The beast reeled and roared, enraged.

  Conner’s arms trembled. Fear threatened to choke him—but something sharper had taken root.

  Resolve.

  This thing had to die.

  The beast charged again, and Conner darted toward the far end of the platform—the section he had noticed wasn’t attached to the stairway structure.

  “Come on…” he muttered.

  The beast snarled, then lunged.

  “NOW!”

  As it lunged, Conner screamed—not from fear, but to draw it closer. Then, with a burst of desperate strength, he drove the blade downward—not at the beast, but into the weakened seam between the welded plates of the platform

  The old metal shrieked as it tore apart. Sending the beast crashing down into the pile of rusted rebar and jagged scrap he'd spotted earlier. It let out a terrible shriek, its limbs thrashing as the rebar pierced its flesh. One heavy thrash knocked the crate loose, and it crashed sideways, metal rods spilling with a heavy CLANK as the beast writhed on the ground.

  Conner stood above, breathless, every nerve alight.

  It stopped.

  Its body twitched once, then went limp. Slumped over the twisted mess of metal, coated in blood and foul black ichor.

  He waited, blade still drawn, chest rising and falling like a piston.

  "...It worked."

  Still cautious, he made his way down the rusted stairs, gripping the railing. Each step echoed through the hollow warehouse.

  He approached it—slowly. The creature’s grotesque body was still, sprawled in an unnatural heap. Conner’s lips parted in disbelief. His first true trap. His first victory.

  But then—

  SNAP!

  A sudden hiss. A blur of red muscle and exposed bone.

  The beast lunged from the debris, blood spraying from its wounds, teeth bared in a grotesque grin as it slammed into Conner. Its claws tore at him, one after another, heavy swipes across his arms and side. The blade was knocked away.

  Conner screamed, grappling with the thing as it thrashed and shrieked. Its breath was hot and rancid. It pressed its wide, fanged mouth toward his face—closer, closer. He barely held it back with both arms as it clawed at his sides, slicing into flesh.

  It was trying to finish him off.

  The blade—he spotted it glinting just inches away on the floor, half-lodged in metal.

  With one last surge of strength, Conner threw his weight sideways, reached out, grabbed the blade—and in one swift motion, drove it upward into the beast's gaping maw.

  His hands screamed from holding it open. The muscles in his arms quivered, but he drove the blade in—not like a soldier, but like a trapped animal biting back

  “Not this time.”

  SHLICK!

  The sound was hideous—steel piercing bone and sinew. He didn’t stop. He pushed, until the blade erupted from the back of the creature’s head, covered in gore.

  The beast jerked for a bit… then fell still.

  Conner lay beneath it, gasping, arms trembling, bloodied and bruised. A cold shiver ran down his spine, an almost imperceptible hum in the air, before the detached notification appeared

  Ding!

  Target exterminated: Dark Vigil Scout x 1

  Points Gained: 25

  Conner lay there, gasping.

  His eyes widened.

  "Scout," he whispered.

  Not a random beast.

  A scout ?

  His blood ran cold.

  A scout... so something out there sent it. Trained it. That thing had orders

  If this was a tracker… then something else was coming.