The rain poured relentlessly, a chilling downpour that soaked the streets of the abandoned industrial district. Hunter Malcolm Grey adjusted his glasses, their thin black frames glinting faintly under the weak light of a flickering lamppost. He had tracked the deaths to this area—five in the past two weeks, all mutilated beyond recognition. The reports whispered of a humanoid variant, but Grey had seen too much to believe simple rumors. Variants weren't usually this precise.
"Another mess," he muttered, stepping over a puddle of crimson-streaked water. "Always a mess when it's near the border towns."
The Order hadn't sent backup. They rarely did for cases like this. Hunters were expected to handle minor incidents alone unless the situation escalated. Malcolm suspected this was one of those missions that would escalate very quickly.
He reached for his Soul Armament—his glasses—and activated their encoded ability: All-Seeing Eye. His vision blurred momentarily before sharpening, the mundane world replaced by a spectrum of glowing lines and pulsing energy. Through the wall ahead, he saw faint trails of soul power, chaotic and flickering like dying embers.
"Something's definitely here," he muttered, deactivating the ability. The strain on his soul power was already noticeable, a dull ache in the back of his head. He'd need to conserve his strength.
The trail led him deeper into the factory, its metal corridors echoing with the sound of dripping water. The air reeked of rust and decay.
Then he heard it—a low growl, guttural and inhuman. Malcolm froze, crouching low as he scanned the area. The growl came again, this time accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against metal.
He stepped into a large chamber, its high ceiling shrouded in darkness. At the center of the room, a figure hunched over something on the floor. It was humanoid, but wrong—its limbs too long, its joints bending at unnatural angles.
"Gotcha," Malcolm whispered, reaching for the hilt of his combat knife.
The creature turned suddenly, its glowing red eyes locking onto him. It snarled, revealing rows of jagged teeth.
Malcolm didn't hesitate. He darted forward, closing the distance before the creature could react. His first strike landed cleanly, the blade sinking into the creature's shoulder. It howled in pain, swiping at him with razor-sharp claws. Malcolm ducked, driving his knee into its torso and throwing it off balance.
The fight was brutal and fast. The creature was stronger and faster than any variant Malcolm had fought before, but he relied on his experience and instincts to stay one step ahead. He dodged another swipe, countering with a series of punches that cracked bone.
But it wasn't enough. The variant's resilience was unnatural—it kept getting back up, its movements more deliberate, almost intelligent.
"Time to cheat," Malcolm muttered, slipping his glasses back on. Activating the All-Seeing Eye, he scanned the creature's body. His vision pierced through its flesh, revealing a network of artificial implants and glowing runes etched into its bones.
"What the hell…?"
The fight turned desperate as the creature lunged at him again. Malcolm used his Soul Armament to predict its movements, sidestepping its attacks and landing precise blows. Finally, with a calculated strike, he severed its spinal cord, and the creature collapsed in a heap.
Panting, Malcolm deactivated the All-Seeing Eye and wiped the sweat from his brow. The ache in his head had worsened, but he couldn't stop now. He approached the creature's body, crouching to inspect the runes.
"These aren't natural," he murmured. "This is… experimentation."
A faint hum caught his attention. He turned, spotting a hidden door on the far side of the room, partially obscured by debris. Activating the All-Seeing Eye once more, he peered through the wall. What he saw made his blood run cold.
Beyond the door was a laboratory, its walls lined with tubes containing humanoid variants in various stages of development. At the center of the room stood a figure in dark robes, their face obscured. On a nearby table lay a map, marked with symbols that corresponded to the locations of the eight Soul Armaments.
"They're building an army," Malcolm realized, his voice barely above a whisper. "And they're after the Armaments."
Before he could act, the robed figure turned toward him, as if sensing his presence. A faint voice echoed in his mind, cold and commanding:
"The awakening has begun. You cannot stop us."
The strain of the All-Seeing Eye overwhelmed him, forcing Malcolm to deactivate it. By the time he kicked the door open, the laboratory was empty. Only the variant tubes remained, their occupants lifeless.
Malcolm staggered out of the factory as dawn broke, his body battered and his soul power nearly depleted. He tapped his communication device, sending a coded message to the Order.
"This is Hunter Grey," he said, his voice hoarse. "I've found evidence of variant experimentation tied to the Dark Order. They're after the Eight. Send this to the council—this isn't over."
As he limped away, the weight of what he had discovered settled on him. The Dark Order wasn't just creating variants—they were preparing for war. And the Eight Soul Armaments were at the heart of their plan.
In the distance, the factory burned, the smoke rising like a signal to the heavens. Malcolm knew this was only the beginning.