Ryo slipped back into the shadows of the city, his mind buzzing with the encounter he had just had with Kira Velasco. He kept to the side streets, avoiding the main roads where hunters patrolled. It was clear now—he wasn't as invisible as he had hoped. The thought unsettled him. Kira's warning echoed in his head: "You're being watched more closely than you know."
He finally reached his hideout, an abandoned storage room tucked away in a forgotten corner of Manila's industrial district. The door creaked as he pushed it open, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. Ryo glanced around, half-expecting to find someone lurking in the shadows, but the room was as he had left it—dimly lit and cluttered with his makeshift research: newspapers, scribbled notes, and maps dotted with pins marking recent monster sightings.
Ryo tossed his backpack on the floor and collapsed into a rickety chair, running a hand through his hair. The rush from the fight was fading, leaving behind a dull throb in his muscles and a gnawing sense of unease. He pulled out a small notebook from his bag, flipping it open to a blank page. He began jotting down details about the monster he had just fought—its size, movements, the green glow of its eyes. As he wrote, he found himself drifting back to the night his powers first awakened.
It was supposed to be a routine trip to the corner store, but nothing had been routine about his life since that night. He could still see the sneering face of the thug, the flash of metal in his hand as he swung. Ryo had felt the raw panic, the adrenaline that spiked when he realized he was outmatched. And then, as if something had snapped inside him, he moved. His body had reacted on instinct, mirroring the thug's own abilities, turning the fight in his favor. The feeling had been intoxicating—a surge of power and control he'd never known. But it had also been terrifying, like stepping off a cliff without knowing what was below.
Ryo rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, staring up at the cracked ceiling. What did it mean that he could do this? That he could become something else, even if only temporarily? He had hoped the answers would come with time, but all he had were more questions.
Kira's sudden appearance tonight hadn't helped. How much did she know? And more importantly, what did she want? Ryo wasn't naive enough to believe she had just shown up out of curiosity. Hunters like Kira didn't waste their time unless there was something in it for them. He tapped his pen against the notebook, a faint rhythm that echoed the ticking of the clock on the wall.
He needed to be more careful. The streets were dangerous enough without drawing the attention of people like Kira Velasco. But if she knew his name and had been watching him, it meant others could be, too. The Obsidian Order came to mind—a shadowy organization his father had warned him about, one that hunted people like him.
His father's disappearance still haunted him. Alaric Santillan had been a man of secrets, always looking over his shoulder, always speaking in riddles when it came to his work. The only clear warning he had left Ryo was in a hastily scrawled note found months after he vanished: "Trust no one. They're watching."
Ryo's eyes fell on the only memento he had of his father—a worn journal filled with cryptic notes and maps. He had pored over it countless times, hoping to find a clue, a hint of what had happened. But the journal was as elusive as the man who wrote it. Ryo flipped through the pages, stopping at a sketch of a familiar symbol: a black serpent coiled around a crescent moon. The emblem of the Obsidian Order.
As Ryo traced the drawing with his finger, a surge of determination welled up inside him. If the Order was behind his father's disappearance, then finding them was the first step to finding answers. And if they were interested in his abilities, then he needed to stay ahead of them, learn faster, fight harder. He wasn't just some lost kid fumbling in the dark anymore—he was a hunter, with or without a license.
A soft rustle from the corner of the room snapped Ryo out of his thoughts. He turned, knife already in hand, muscles tensed. But it was only a stray cat, padding silently across the dusty floor. Ryo exhaled, lowering the knife. The cat paused to look at him, its eyes reflecting the dim light, and for a moment, Ryo felt a strange connection—a sense of kinship with the creature that, like him, lived on the edges of the world, unseen and unacknowledged.
He stood up, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness from the fight. It was late, but sleep wouldn't come easily tonight. Instead, he pulled a map off the wall, spreading it across the floor. It was marked with red and blue pins, each representing a monster sighting or a suspected Obsidian Order location. Ryo studied the patterns, trying to predict where the next incident might occur.
There had been a cluster of recent attacks near the old port, a place where the Order was rumored to conduct its business in the shadows. If he wanted answers, that's where he needed to go next. But he couldn't go in unprepared—he needed more information, more allies, or at least a better understanding of his own powers.
Ryo glanced at the door, half-expecting Kira to materialize again with that infuriating smirk of hers. He shook his head. Whether she was friend or foe, he would need to be ready. Ryo grabbed his notebook, jotting down a list of possible contacts—people who owed him favors, a few reliable sources in the hunter community, and even a couple of questionable types who thrived in the gray areas of legality.
He paused, staring at the list. Trust no one. His father's warning lingered, a bitter reminder of the price of misplaced trust. Ryo ripped the page from the notebook and crumpled it in his hand, tossing it into the trash. He couldn't afford to rely on anyone but himself. If the Obsidian Order was watching, he would have to stay one step ahead, and that meant keeping his plans close to his chest.
Ryo rolled up the map, shoving it back into his bag. Tomorrow, he'd head to the port and see what he could dig up. But tonight, he'd sharpen his skills and refine his control over the shadows that flickered at the edge of his consciousness. As he focused, the shadows in the room began to stir, dark tendrils stretching and twisting as if responding to his will.
There was power here—raw, untamed, and dangerous. Ryo just needed to learn how to wield it without losing himself in the process. The city outside buzzed with life, indifferent to the battles waged in its back alleys. But for Ryo, each fight was a step closer to understanding his powers and uncovering the truth buried in his family's past.
He clenched his fists, feeling the shadows swirl around him. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to face it. He had to be. There was no turning back now.