Kael screamed in frustration.
Three days.
Three long, miserable days of trying to grow his rat army, and he had nothing to show for it. If anything, he was worse off than before. He had started with ten rats, but now he was down to four. Worse still, the white mist—the essence that had been stabilizing his soul—had stopped appearing.
No matter how many normal rats his minions killed, no mist flowed into him anymore.
That only left one conclusion.
I need stronger prey.
Kael's frustration twisted into cold determination. If rats weren't enough, then he had to move on to something bigger. Something worth killing.
With that thought, he floated toward the surface of the sewer, following a faint ray of light breaking through the filth and grime.
Four rats trailed behind him, their eerie white bodies blending into the darkness. Over the past three days, he had made progress in controlling them. He could now give simple commands—eat, drink, go, come—but the one he used most was eat.
Every time his rats devoured their victims, he gained more white mist.
And if that was the key to his survival, then he'd make damn sure they ate well.
___
"Ha... what a dreadful sight..." Kael murmured, hovering above the manhole, hidden beneath the shade of a makeshift tent.
The city spread out before him, sprawling like a mirage of civilization in an otherwise ruined world. Every inch of the towering buildings was covered in special materials designed to shield its inhabitants from the sun's deadly rays.
Without these coverings, even the briefest exposure would be lethal, turning flesh to ash in seconds.
From beneath his makeshift shelter, Kael could see it all. The city's skyline, stretching high into the thick, grey sky, the walls lined with a strange, reflective material that absorbed the light, blocking out the sun.
It should have been impressive. It was the only city left where the sun's lethal rays couldn't penetrate.
Yet, to Kael, it was nothing but a gilded cage.
The people who lived here, however, didn't share his sense of foreboding. They moved about in the shade, pale skin glistening as they hustled through the streets.
Their skin was so pale, it almost seemed ghostly, drained of life by generations of exposure to the dark, sunless world. There were no healthy tans here, no warmth in their complexions.
Their eyes were distant, but Kael could see a weariness in them, a dull resignation. They moved like automatons, going about their business, their lives tightly controlled by the desperate need to stay out of the sun's reach.
"So, where the hell am I?" Kael thought, still hovering above, controlling his rats to explore deeper into the city. His eyes flickered to the rooftops, noting the white-glow of the sun protection, the glassy sheen of the material blocking the harshness of the world outside.
His rats crawled through cracks, under doors, beneath the shadows, picking up tidbits of human life as they scurried along. The city wasn't just about survival—it was about routine. The city lived on the edge of death, constantly trying to avoid the ever-present threat of the sun.
Kael kept his focus sharp, as the rats relayed their observations. After three days of practice, he had fine-tuned his control over them. His rats had become his eyes, his ears. They scuttled through the streets, down alleys, into homes, observing everything.
Soon, he saw it—groups of awakened beings. Their skin was less pale, their movements faster, more precise. They walked in tight-knit parties, scanning the streets as they went. Kael noted how they moved with purpose. They were hunters. Riftborn hunters.
He'd known about them, of course. The ones sent out to clear the surrounding areas of riftborn monsters. These people fought on the front lines, but to Kael, they were just another cog in the machine, their existence only adding to the city's cycle of constant survival.
Kael didn't care about them.
What he cared about was finding a new way to survive.
He had learned much from his time in the sewers, experimenting with rats, learning to control them. But his strength was still limited. He needed something more. Something stronger.
That's when he spotted the crowded neighborhood ahead. A cluster of homes, people living in close quarters. He guided his rats there, sending them out in all directions to infiltrate the buildings.
The rats scattered, slipping through cracks in walls, beneath doors, finding their way into kitchens, living rooms, and even beneath floors. Kael's senses tingled as he waited for the rats to explore, to gather new information.
He needed to grow his strength. The rats weren't enough.
___
It was late at night when the family of six gathered around the dining table. Laughter filled the air as they shared their last meal together before the children left for the awakened academy.
The conversation, warm and filled with love, carried a bittersweet undertone as the parents spoke of the future.
"You all need to train hard at the academy," the father said, his tone steady yet tinged with concern. "You're the only ones who can protect us when the city eventually falls."
The children nodded, their faces a mixture of sadness and resolve. The reality of leaving home, of stepping into the unknown, weighed heavily on them.
Tears welled up in their eyes, but before the emotions could take over, they embraced one another tightly, forming a circle of comfort.
As the family clung to one another, a white rat scurried to the edge of the table where the father had been sitting. Without hesitation, it dropped three dark, foul-smelling drops into the bowl of soup. The rat scurried away unnoticed, disappearing into the shadows.
After a moment, the family broke the embrace and resumed their meal. The father took a spoonful of the soup and paused. A strange taste lingered on his tongue, but he shrugged it off.
"This soup… it tastes off," he remarked.
"Oh, honey," his wife responded, gently stirring the bowl. "It's probably just the stress. You know how we are, always worrying when the children leave. Maybe that's messing with our taste buds."
He nodded, half-smiling, and returned to his meal. "Maybe..." He took another sip, then quickly downed the rest of the soup, finishing it in one go. A piece of bread followed.
The family continued to talk, the room filled with their voices as the night stretched on. At last, they headed to bed, each to their own room, and the quiet settled in.
The father climbed into bed beside his wife, pulling the covers over them both. He watched her for a moment, her breathing slow and even, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep. But something felt... wrong.
He reached out to kiss her cheek, but as his lips brushed against her skin, he froze.