The Progenitor
Chapter 2: The Hunt Begins
Three days.
Three days since the encounter in the square. Since he had come face to face with his older self—a twisted, malevolent reflection of everything Yun Tae-min feared becoming.
Now, Tae-min stood on the roof of a decrepit building in the slums of Luminae City, rain falling in relentless sheets around him. The journal was strapped tightly to his side, its weight a constant reminder of the nightmare he couldn't escape. His soaked jacket clung to him as he gazed down at the city below, the streets illuminated by the pale glow of flickering neon signs.
He was being hunted.
Tae-min's fingers gripped the edge of the rooftop, his knuckles white. His mind raced back to the events of the past few days. The journal, once a cryptic harbinger of doom, now seemed to respond to his thoughts, writing itself in real time. It revealed his actions before he even committed them, guiding him like some cursed script he couldn't rewrite. Worse, the shadows of Luminae had come alive, and with them, a new threat.
The Collectors.
They weren't human—not entirely. Cloaked figures with distorted voices and blades that hummed with an unnatural resonance. They moved like phantoms, appearing wherever he went, hunting him like wolves. He didn't know who—or what—had sent them, but their message was clear: surrender the journal or die.
A sharp whistle pierced the air, snapping Tae-min out of his thoughts. He spun around, his eyes scanning the surrounding rooftops. The whistle came again, this time closer.
"Found you."
The voice was low and menacing, echoing through the rain. From the shadows emerged a figure clad in dark armor, its edges jagged and asymmetrical as if it had been pieced together from nightmares. The Collector's face was obscured by a mask carved to resemble a grinning skull, its eye sockets glowing faintly with crimson light.
Tae-min instinctively drew his dagger, the blade's faint blue aura cutting through the gloom. "I'm not in the mood for games," he muttered, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.
The Collector chuckled, a guttural sound that sent chills down his spine. "You think you're special because of that little book? You're just another piece on the board, Progenitor. A pawn pretending to be a king."
Tae-min's jaw tightened. He'd heard the title whispered by the older version of himself, and now from his enemies. Progenitor. What did it mean? Why was he being dragged into this war?
The Collector raised a hand, and the rain around him seemed to freeze midair. The droplets hovered, glinting like shards of glass, before hurtling toward Tae-min like a storm of needles.
He dove to the side, rolling across the slick rooftop as the barrage shattered the ground where he'd stood. Shards of stone and metal flew in all directions. Tae-min came up in a crouch, his dagger ready.
"You'll have to do better than that," he said, forcing a smirk.
The Collector didn't reply. Instead, he charged, his movements a blur. Tae-min barely had time to block the first strike, their blades clashing with a deafening clang. The impact sent vibrations up his arm, but he held firm, gritting his teeth as he parried a second attack.
The fight was brutal, a whirlwind of steel and raw power. Tae-min's dagger was faster, but the Collector's strikes were heavier, each one forcing him back.
"You can't run forever!" the Collector snarled, his blade whistling through the air as he unleashed a flurry of attacks.
Tae-min ducked, sidestepping a killing blow, and lashed out with his dagger. The blade found its mark, carving a deep gash into the Collector's side. Black smoke hissed from the wound instead of blood, and the Collector let out a guttural roar.
"You're not human," Tae-min muttered, stepping back as the creature staggered.
The Collector's laughter echoed across the rooftops. "Neither are you, Progenitor. Not anymore."
Before Tae-min could respond, the journal at his side began to glow. The leather cover burned hot against his skin, and he instinctively yanked it free. The pages flipped on their own, stopping at a fresh entry written in bold, slanted handwriting:
"Strike now, or die.
Tae-min's heart raced. The journal had been right before—about everything. He didn't have time to question it now.
He lunged forward, his dagger aimed for the Collector's exposed chest. The creature moved to block, but Tae-min was faster, ducking under its guard and driving the blade home.
The Collector let out a deafening scream as the dagger pierced its core. Black smoke erupted from its body, swirling violently before dissipating into the night. The creature collapsed to its knees, its glowing eyes dimming.
Tae-min stepped back, his chest heaving. The dagger's glow flickered before fading entirely.
For a moment, the rooftop was silent except for the sound of rain. Then, from the shadows, another voice spoke.
"Well done, Yun Tae-min."
He spun around, his dagger raised, but there was no one there. Only the rain and the faint hum of the city below.
But the voice lingered in his mind, chilling and familiar.
"You've taken the first step. The next move is yours."
Tae-min's grip tightened on the journal, his mind racing. He didn't know who—or what—was orchestrating this, but one thing was clear.
He wasn't just fighting for survival anymore. He was fighting for control of his destiny.
And he wasn't going to let anyone take it from him.