Night had fallen, shrouding the ruined city in darkness. Between the crumbling buildings, wild vegetation thrived unchecked. Towering tree roots twisted around the remnants of civilization, while creeping vines snaked through the cracks in the weathered asphalt.
The rain poured relentlessly, turning roads into rivers and drowning the rusted shells of abandoned cars, now overrun by nature. In another time, this might have been a hauntingly beautiful scene, if not for the creatures lurking in the shadows, ready to strike.
Tap Tap Tap
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps, their rhythm out of place in the desolate landscape. The light, swift steps on the wet road echoed louder than they should have, betraying the presence of a figure moving with inhuman speed.
Out of the gloom, a figure sprinted, moving faster than any normal human. Just as he was about to leap over a dilapidated car, he halted abruptly. A shadowy form burst from a nearby building, slicing through the air where he had just been, missing him by inches.
"Tch!" The man clicked his tongue in irritation, his disdain evident. Without wasting another moment, he resumed his sprint.
The entire exchange lasted only seconds, but it was enough to reveal his identity: an old man with long, white hair tied back, his face lined with deep wrinkles that belied the energy coursing through him. A massive scar cut across his left eye, now milky white, speaking of countless battles fought and survived. He wore a tattered Japanese-style black cloak, but it was the katana at his side that commanded the most attention.
Rustle~ Rustle~
Moments later, two more shadowy figures darted through the same area, pursuing the old man with relentless determination.
The man darted over several abandoned cars, weaving through the debris-strewn streets until he found himself in a narrow alley, a dead end. A towering wall loomed before him, blocking any chance of escape. All that lay in the alley were a few rusted, overturned trash cans.
He turned to face his pursuers, his expression unyielding as he watched the two shadowy figures block the entrance to the alley. Two more figures emerged, clinging to the walls on either side like spiders, their presence tightening the noose around the old man.
A thunderclap split the sky, its light momentarily illuminating the street. The creatures were revealed: humanoid in shape, yet running on all fours. Their skin was ghostly white, stark against the night, with thick, black veins coursing beneath the surface. Their eyes were nothing but pitch-black voids, devoid of any human emotion.
"Hmph, foolish Shadow Hunters," the old man muttered, his voice dripping with contempt. With deliberate calm, he drew his katana, the blade gleaming even in the dim light. "They may be fast, but they still don't understand who is the predator and who is the prey here…"
Without hesitation, the first of the creatures lunged, its maw stretching wide as it aimed to devour him. The old man stood his ground, unflinching, his grip steady on the hilt of his sword, ready to remind them of the hunter's true identity.
At the very last moment, with a fluid motion, he raised his katana vertically, allowing the beast's own momentum to drive it onto the blade, slicing it cleanly in half. Blood splattered across his face, but his expression remained unchanged, cold and focused.
Without missing a beat, he sidestepped to the left just as another creature lunged from the shadows, its claws swiping through the space where he had been mere seconds before. The man evaded the attack with the grace of a seasoned warrior, his every move calculated and precise.
He soon found himself surrounded, entangled in a deadly dance with three of the Shadow Hunters. These creatures lived up to their name, their bodies melding with the shadows, making them nearly impossible to track. Yet, despite their speed and ferocity, the old man was always a step ahead, reacting with lightning reflexes that belied his age. His movements were deceptively simple, but the precision and efficiency of each strike were unmatched.
To an observer, it might have appeared as though he were performing a deadly ballet, each swing of his katana a choreographed step in a dance with death.
As the fight reached its crescendo, the old man moved with lethal intent, slashing through the air with a speed that defied logic. He severed the arm of one creature, then followed through with a swift, decisive cut that cleaved its head from its body. The headless beast collapsed in a heap, its blood mixing with the rain as it pooled on the ground.
With one more down, the others quickly followed. The old man dispatched the remaining Shadow Hunters with brutal efficiency, their bodies falling lifelessly at his feet. The rain washed away the dark blood that stained the ground, leaving the alley eerily quiet once more.
The old man carefully wiped the blood from his katana with a cloth, his expression finally softening into a smile. "That was a good warm-up," he muttered to himself, satisfied with the night's work.
Rustle ~
A faint sound came from behind him, barely audible over the pouring rain. His senses heightened, the old man spun around, katana in hand, and advanced toward the source of the noise—the trash cans.
Tap, Tap, Tap.
The rain continued to drum against the metal cans, creating an eerie rhythm
*Rumble*
A flash of lightning illuminated the scene, revealing a second figure cowering behind the trash. The old man's katana was poised just inches from the intruder's throat. In the brief light, his scarred face and milky white eye took on a menacing, almost spectral appearance.
"Stop! I—I mean no harm!" The stranger stammered, his voice quaking with fear as he stared at the blade that threatened to end his life.
The old man's eyes narrowed, his disgust apparent as he sized up the pitiful figure before him. "Hmm... I thought it was another mutant, but it's just a starving rat," he sneered. What he saw barely resembled a human. The man before him was gaunt, his bones protruding from beneath his filthy skin. His black eyes were hollow, his hair matted and disheveled. Yet, despite his wretched state, there was a glimmer of youth and desperation in his gaze.
The tense standoff stretched on for a few more moments before the younger man spoke again, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.
"Please… teach me!" His words were nearly drowned out by the rain, but the desperation in his plea was unmistakable. Tears—or perhaps rain—streamed down his face, cutting through the grime and revealing a hint of the person he once was.
********
"Ah!"
Panting heavily, Nikolas woke up as he gasped for breath. The memories of that night flooded back to him with startling clarity. It was as if he had just relived the moment, the vivid recollection of Yuemura's scarred, disgusted face seared into his mind. Even though it had been years, that night remained etched in his memory. The old man's expression, filled with disdain yet tempered with a sense of inevitability, haunted him still.
He glanced around his room, reassuring himself that the apocalypse hadn't begun—not yet, anyway. It was just a dream.
"I still don't know what the old man saw in me that day," he muttered to himself, the memory weighing heavily on his mind. "Even I wouldn't have saved myself."
After washing his face and brushing his teeth, Nikolas began his day as usual: rigorous training with his father, brother, and master. But while his routine stayed the same, the world outside was anything but ordinary.
Nikolas kept a close look on the internet and the media, eager to see the fallout from the video he had released. As expected, the world was spiraling into chaos. Panic spread like wildfire—some people dismissed the warning as fake news, but many rushed to stores, buying up supplies in a frenzy!
Fortunately, despite the mounting tension, there had been no reports of looting or widespread violence. But what truly caught him off guard was a third type of reaction: people were preparing parties!
"Beach Costume Party of Doomsday; The No-End Night Party; Crazy Doomsday…" Nikolas read the headlines in disbelief, his eyes widening at the absurdity of it all.
"What the hell!?" he cursed out loud.
Were these people insane? The thought crossed his mind, but he quickly realized that it wasn't madness—just the reality of human nature. Some people would always choose to do the opposite of what was advised, reveling in their defiance even in the face of disaster.
Nikolas sighed.
[I'll think of something to at least cancel some of these parties. Maybe I'll send a bomb threat to the authorities… Who knows?] In the end he shrugged. There wasn't much he could do now. People would have to face the consequences of their own actions, as they always had.