It had been three days since the massive Trace incident turned Portville's streets into a chaotic battlefield. Nathan stood outside his apartment building, the cold rain drumming relentlessly against his black umbrella. In his other hand, he held a duffel bag packed with only the essentials—clothes, a few personal items, and the tools he couldn't leave behind. His face was unreadable, a mask of calm, as cars passed on the glistening street. The faint glow of streetlights reflected in the puddles at his feet.
He waited in silence until the low rumble of an engine drew his attention. A sleek black sedan slowed to a stop in front of him, the tinted back window rolling down to reveal Emma's familiar face. Her dark hair was tied back, and her sharp eyes looked him over with an intensity that matched her no-nonsense demeanor.
"Get in," she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Nathan didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, yanked the door open, and slid into the dimly lit backseat. The air inside was thick with the faint scent of leather and rain. The steady rhythm of raindrops on the roof filled the silence as the car pulled away from the curb. Outside, the neon lights of the Portville district painted streaks of color across the wet pavement, creating a surreal glow in the stormy night.
Emma sat beside him, her arms crossed as she stared out the window. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet broken only by the hum of the car's engine and the occasional splash of water as they drove through puddles. Nathan finally broke the silence, his tone casual but tinged with curiosity.
"So… your wounds healed, huh?" he asked, his gaze sharp as he glanced at her.
Emma turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd notice."
Nathan shrugged. "You looked worse three days ago."
A faint smirk tugged at Emma's lips. "Guess I'm tougher than I look."
The silence stretched again before she added, "So, no second thoughts about joining us?"
"No," Nathan replied without hesitation. His voice was firm, resolute. "I told you—I'm fine with this."
Emma studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her because she simply nodded and turned back toward the window.
The car slowed to a smooth stop in front of a modest two-story house. It wasn't much to look at—its exterior plain but well-kept, with soft, golden light glowing through the rain-streaked windows. Nathan opened the door and stepped out first, raising his umbrella against the downpour. He glanced back to see Emma exiting without an umbrella, the rain immediately soaking her dark jacket. Without a word, he shifted his umbrella to cover them both as they walked toward the front door.
Emma glanced up at him, one corner of her mouth quirking into a faint smirk. "Thanks. Didn't think you had a considerate side."
"Don't get used to it," Nathan replied, his tone dry. "Bring your own umbrella next time."
They reached the door, and Emma pressed the button on the intercom. A faint buzz echoed before a cheerful, almost sing-song voice crackled through the speaker.
"What's the secret password?" the voice teased.
Emma groaned, her fingers tightening into a fist. "Eris, it's me. Open the door."
"Not without the password," Eris replied in mock seriousness. "Rules are rules, Emma."
"Eris," Emma said, her voice dropping into a growl. "Now's not the time."
"Late arrivals don't get special treatment," Eris countered, clearly enjoying herself. "Say it, or you're staying out there."
With a long, resigned sigh, Emma muttered under her breath, "Sweet… sweet strawberry cupcake."
The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. As they stepped inside, Nathan caught the faint twitch in Emma's eye—clearly, she was seconds away from throttling someone.
The house was warm, a stark contrast to the rain-soaked chill outside. Nathan took in the cluttered living room—its surfaces were littered with books, gadgets, and weapons. A girl sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, furiously mashing buttons on a controller. Oversized headphones sat crookedly on her head as she shouted at the screen.
"Take that, you stupid goblin! Who's the queen now?"
Emma didn't even break stride. She walked over and turned off the TV mid-battle.
"Hey!" the girl protested, yanking off her headset and glaring. "I was about to clear that level!"
"Too bad," Emma said flatly, crossing her arms. "You've got company."
The girl blinked, her eyes darting to Nathan. She sized him up, her expression skeptical. "Who's this guy?"
Emma flicked her forehead, earning a loud yelp. "This is Nathan, the one I told you about."
"Ohhh." The girl's demeanor shifted instantly. She stood and walked up to Nathan, her wide grin nearly disarming. "I'm Eris! Nice to meet you."
Nathan nodded slightly. "Nice to meet you too."
Eris leaned in, peering at him like he was some rare artifact. Without warning, she grabbed his wrist and turned his hand over, inspecting it. "So, where do the flames come from? Your hands? Or is it, like, a whole-body thing? Does it burn you, or is it—"
"Eris," Emma interrupted sharply, yanking her away by the back of her hoodie. "Stop being weird."
Eris pouted but relented, muttering something under her breath as Emma motioned for Nathan to follow her.
"Come on," Emma said. "Let me show you around."
Nathan trailed behind her as she led him through the house. The kitchen was small but functional, the common room even messier up close, and the upstairs hallway was lined with doors, most of them closed. Finally, Emma stopped in front of a bedroom at the end of the hall.
"This is yours," she said, pushing the door open.
The room was plain but clean. A single bed, a small desk, and a window overlooking the rain-soaked street filled the space. Nathan stepped inside, tossing his bag onto the bed without a word.
"Let me know if you need anything," Emma said before turning to leave.
Nathan watched her go, the faint creak of the wooden floorboards fading as she disappeared down the hall. Turning back to the room, he leaned against the desk, listening to the rain outside.
---
A while later, Nathan found himself standing in the backyard, the rain still drizzling in a fine mist that clung to his clothes. The cold air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. Across from him, Emma stood with her sword drawn, the edge gleaming faintly in the dull light. Her stance was relaxed, but her sharp eyes stayed locked on him, assessing. A few paces away, leaning against the doorframe of the house, Eris watched with a lazy grin, her amusement plain as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
"Why are we doing this again?" Nathan asked, a hint of irritation slipping into his voice as he adjusted his stance.
"Like I said, we need to test your abilities," Eris replied, her tone light. "We need to officially determine your subclass."
Nathan narrowed his eyes at her. "Feels more like you're just curious and want a show."
Eris didn't deny it. "Can't it be both?" she said with a shrug.
Emma, meanwhile, tightened her grip on her sword. "Focus, Nathan," she said, her voice steady but commanding. "If you're going to work with us, we need to know exactly what you're capable of. No surprises in the field."
Nathan sighed, shaking his head. "Fine," he muttered. A flicker of green sparked in his hands, his flames igniting and swirling around his fingers. He locked eyes with Emma, his expression cold and calculating. "But don't blame me if you get hurt."
Emma's lips curved into a faint smirk, and she adjusted her stance. "Don't worry about me," she said. "Just try to keep up."
Eris grinned from her spot by the door. "All right, you two. Ready… go!"
The moment Eris' voice rang out, Emma became a blur of motion. Nathan barely had time to shift his weight before her blade flashed through the air. A thin strand of his hair floated to the ground, severed cleanly. He froze for a moment, stunned.
"What the—when did she—?"
Before he could finish the thought, Emma's sword flashed again, slicing through the fabric of his sleeve. A small cut stung his arm, the cold rain seeping into the wound. Nathan's heart pounded as he took a step back, trying to put distance between them.
She's too fast, he thought, his mind racing to keep up. His instincts screamed at him to react, to do something, anything, before she struck again.
Emma didn't let up. Her blade was already swinging for his chest, the sharp edge aimed directly at him. Without thinking, Nathan thrust his hands forward, a torrent of green flames erupting from his palms to form a barrier. The fire roared between them, but Emma didn't falter. With a smooth, fluid motion, she cut through the flames as though they were nothing but air. Sparks fizzled and died around her, leaving Nathan wide-eyed and unguarded.
Before he could react, he felt the cold steel of Emma's blade press lightly against his neck. His breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears.
"I told you I wouldn't go easy," Emma said, her tone calm and unwavering. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the air between them felt heavier than the rain. "You underestimated me, didn't you?"
Nathan gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the chilly air. "Are we done now?" he asked, his voice flat but his pride clearly bruised.
Emma withdrew her blade, spinning it smoothly before sheathing it. "For now," she said, her tone almost dismissive. "Let's head inside before we catch a cold."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked back toward the house. Eris, still lounging in the doorway, clapped her hands slowly, her grin wider than ever.
"Well, that was fun," she said. "For me, at least."
Nathan shot her a glare as he followed Emma back into the house. The warmth inside was a welcome relief from the cold drizzle outside. The three of them settled into the living room, the cluttered space feeling oddly cozy as the rain continued to patter against the windows.
Eris plopped onto the couch, leaning forward with her chin in her hands as she looked at Nathan. "So," she said, drawing out the word. "Your subclass. Fire and Dark. The fire part's obvious—your flames kind of give it away. But the chaos part? That took some digging."
Nathan frowned, sitting on the edge of a chair and crossing his arms. "I still don't get this whole subclass thing," he said. "What does it even mean?"
Emma, now leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, answered. "Subclasses categorize Trace users based on the powers they manifest and the emotions driving them. There are eleven in total: Ice, Fire, Spirit, Dark, Wind, Light, Lightning, Lunar, Nature, Psychic, and Water."
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Eleven? Seems excessive."
Emma shrugged. "Emotions are complicated. Every Trace reflects an emotional state or drive. That's why there are so many categories."
"Then why do I have two?" Nathan pressed.
"Everyone has two," Emma replied. "Every Trace is a blend. It reflects the duality of emotions—how they're never just one thing. Fire might represent your passion or anger, but Dark? That's about unpredictability. Instability."
Nathan leaned back, processing her words. "So, what? My emotions are a mess, and now my powers are too?"
Eris grinned. "Pretty much."
Nathan shot her a look but didn't argue.
"Speaking of," Eris said, tilting her head, "does your Trace have a name?"
Nathan blinked. "A name?"
Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He's new, Eris. He wouldn't know that yet."
"That's why I'm asking!" Eris said, throwing her hands up. "It's not like the Trace just tells you its name. You've got to figure it out."
Nathan shook his head, exhaling sharply. "This is too much," he muttered.
Emma pushed off the wall, her tone brisk. "All right. I'm going to bed. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Eris pouted, flopping dramatically onto her back. "What? So early? You're no fun."
Nathan stood, stretching as he prepared to leave the room. "I'm heading off too," he said simply, avoiding Eris' disappointed gaze.
Eris groaned loudly. "You're both the worst. Fine, go ahead. Leave me here to entertain myself. Not like I care or anything."
Nathan smirked faintly as he left the room, her dramatic complaints fading into the background. Upstairs, he shut the door to his new room and sat on the edge of the bed, the events of the day replaying in his mind. The weight of the Trace incident, the sparring match, and the cryptic discussions about subclasses all swirled together, leaving him restless.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, a steady rhythm against the window.
---
The night was unnervingly still, the darkness broken only by the sporadic flicker of Portville's aging streetlights. In the heart of the industrial district, where abandoned factories loomed like forgotten sentinels, two officers made their way toward one such crumbling structure. Their flashlights pierced through the suffocating gloom, beams of light bouncing off rusted metal and shattered glass.
Officer Kevin led the way, his posture tense but deliberate, the weight of duty heavy on his shoulders. His younger partner, Jimmy, followed closely, his nervous energy palpable. Both wore the crisp, navy-blue uniforms of the Portville Police Department, their badges catching faint glimmers of moonlight as they moved.
"You sure this is the right place?" Jimmy whispered, his voice betraying his unease.
Kevin didn't break stride. "Every lead we've got points here. This factory's been empty for years, but it's the last unchecked spot in Portville. Stay focused."
Jimmy swallowed hard and nodded, though his grip on the flashlight visibly tightened.
The factory's interior was a decaying monument to neglect. The air reeked of rust, mildew, and something faintly sweet but disturbingly off, like rotting fruit. Broken machinery stood like lifeless giants, their jagged edges casting jagged shadows on the graffiti-stained walls. Every step the officers took echoed loudly, their footsteps swallowed by the cavernous emptiness.
"You really think we'll find the kidnapper here?" Jimmy asked, his eyes darting nervously toward every darkened corner.
Kevin glanced back at him. "We're not leaving until we check every inch of this place. Relax—we'll sweep it, and if nothing's here, we'll move on."
Jimmy opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden sound froze both men in their tracks. A faint voice, distant but unmistakable, echoed through the factory.
"Ray…"
Kevin's hand instinctively moved toward the holster on his belt. He turned his flashlight toward the direction of the sound. "Did you hear that?"
Jimmy nodded quickly, his own beam of light sweeping wildly across the room. "Yeah. What the hell was that?"
Kevin straightened his stance. "Hello? This is the Portville Police Department! If you're in here, come out now, and we can help you!"
The voice came again, louder this time. "Ray…"
Kevin's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm. "We're here to help! Tell us where you are, and we'll get you out of here. And who's Ray?"
Jimmy stepped closer to Kevin, his breathing shallow. "What if it's a trap?"
Before Kevin could respond, the voice changed. It was no longer faint or pleading but deep, guttural, and seething with an unnatural intensity. "RAY!"
The sound reverberated through the factory like a thunderclap, shaking loose flakes of rust from the rafters. Kevin spun around, his heart hammering in his chest. "Jimmy? Jimmy, where are you?"
There was no reply.
"Jimmy, this isn't funny!" Kevin's voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone. He swung his flashlight in frantic arcs, illuminating empty hallways and gaping doorways. His partner was nowhere to be seen.
"Stay calm," Kevin muttered to himself, his breath coming in sharp bursts. "Think. Focus."
But the oppressive silence pressed down on him like a living thing, amplifying the sound of his ragged breathing. He took a cautious step forward, the beam of his flashlight quivering as it cut through the darkness. "Who's there?" he barked. "Show yourself! I'm armed!"
A low growl rippled through the air, primal and menacing, freezing Kevin in place. It came from behind him.
He turned, but it was too late. A massive, hulking figure emerged from the shadows, its form barely discernible save for its burning red eyes that glared at him with predatory malice. Its growl deepened into a roar as it lunged.
Kevin's scream was swallowed by the dark.
---
The sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of Nathan's small room, warming the cramped space and stirring him awake. He yawned, stretching lazily, and rolled onto his side, his gaze landing on a worn picture frame on the nearby desk. It held an old photo: a younger Nathan standing between his mother and older sister, all three smiling brightly. A pang of nostalgia tightened his chest, but he quickly pushed the feeling away, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
After a quick shower, he walked to the living room, towel drying his hair. The faint sounds of rapid button clicks filled the air, and he wasn't surprised to find Eris sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in a video game.
"Morning, Nate," she greeted without looking up, her fingers dancing across the controller.
Nathan blinked at the nickname, raising an eyebrow. "Nate?"
"Yeah," Eris said, smirking as she expertly dodged an in-game attack. "Came up with it since we're friends now. Cool with it?"
"Friends already, huh?" he said dryly before shrugging. "I guess I don't mind."
"Good. It suits you," she replied, her focus still glued to the screen.
Nathan chuckled softly, moving to sit beside her. "Where's Emma?" he asked, scanning the room.
"Out," Eris said casually. "She mentioned something important. She'll be back soon."
His eyes drifted to the screen, where colorful characters clashed in an intense battle. Recognition flickered across his face. "Wait… is that SpiritFighters?"
"Close," Eris corrected, pausing to show off the box art. "SpiritFighters X. It's the newer, cooler version. You ever play?"
"Yeah, my sister and I used to spend hours on it," Nathan admitted.
Eris raised an eyebrow. "No way. You're telling me the broody, mysterious Nathan has a gamer past? Prove it."
She handed him a controller, restarting the game. "Prepare to get schooled."
The room filled with laughter and banter as they battled fiercely. Nathan struggled to remember the controls, while Eris showed no mercy, laughing every time his character was defeated.
"Wow, Nate, you're terrible at this," Eris teased after another victory.
"Come on, give me a break!" Nathan protested. "It's been years!"
Before Eris could respond, the front door creaked open, and Emma stepped inside, the faint smell of cigarette smoke trailing her. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with a faint smirk.
"Didn't know you were into video games, Nathan," she remarked.
"He's a boy. What'd you expect?" Eris quipped without missing a beat, earning a playful glare from Nathan.
Emma shook her head and straightened, her expression turning serious. "Alright, fun's over. I need to talk to you both."
The shift in her tone silenced the playful atmosphere. Eris paused the game, and both turned to face her.
Emma crossed her arms. "I've been hearing reports of disappearances near the old factory on the outskirts of town. Civilians and officers alike have gone in and never come back. Whatever's in there… it's dangerous."
Nathan frowned, sitting up straighter. "You think it's a Trace?"
Emma nodded grimly. "I'm almost certain. And if it is, we can't let it spread."
Eris grinned, nudging Nathan with her elbow. "So, Nate, ready for your first mission?"
Nathan stood, determination hardening his features. "Let's do it."
The trio prepared in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Emma strapped her sleek sword to her back with practiced ease, her sharp eyes scanning her gear. Nathan adjusted his shoes, mentally bracing for whatever awaited them, while Eris twirled one of her dual daggers idly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
As they stepped out of the safehouse, the cool breeze carried the faint hum of the city in the distance. Emma glanced back at the two of them, her expression firm. "Stick close, stay sharp, and trust your instincts. Let's go Trace hunting."
Nathan and Eris exchanged a quick nod before following her lead, their footsteps falling in sync. In the distance, the looming silhouette of the abandoned factory rose against the horizon, its shadow stretching toward them like a warning.
TO BE CONTINUED
---
Character Sheet:
Name: Emma Langston
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Height: 5'9" (175 cm)
Build: Athletic, toned
Hair: Sleek black, tied in a low ponytail
Eyes: Dark grey, sharp and observant
Occupation: Exorcist and field commander
Personality:
Core Traits: Strong-willed, disciplined, and fiercely loyal.
Strengths:
Highly skilled swordswoman with unparalleled precision.
Exceptional strategic thinker under pressure.
Deep sense of responsibility and justice.
Weaknesses:
Overly critical of herself and others, often pushing too hard.
Struggles to express vulnerability, masking emotions with stoicism.
Motivations: To uphold her family's legacy as Exorcists and eliminate the Traces to protect innocent lives.