The Progenitor
Chapter 3: The Whisper of Shadows
The flickering neon signs of Luminae City cast fragmented reflections on the rain-slick streets, their colors bleeding into the puddles like stains of forgotten promises. Yun Tae-min sat in a dimly lit diner, tucked into a booth at the far corner. The journal rested on the table before him, its leather cover damp from the rain, faintly glowing as if alive.
The waitress had already refilled his coffee twice, her eyes lingering on his disheveled appearance. But she didn't ask questions. No one in Luminae asked questions. Questions got people killed.
Tae-min stared at the pages of the journal, his finger tracing the most recent entry:
"They will come for you at dawn."
The words pulsed faintly, as if mocking him. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to toss the cursed thing into the nearest sewer. But he couldn't. The journal had saved his life, more than once, and now it was the only lead he had.
The door to the diner creaked open, and a chill ran down his spine.
He didn't look up immediately. Instead, he watched the distorted reflection in the window. A man entered, his frame tall and wiry, clad in a trench coat that dripped with rain. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.
Tae-min's grip tightened on the journal. Stay calm. Act natural.
The man approached the counter, ordering a coffee. But as he turned, his gaze locked onto Tae-min's booth. His lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.
Tae-min's instincts screamed at him to run.
The man began walking toward him, each step echoing like the ticking of a clock. Tae-min shifted in his seat, one hand slipping beneath the table to grip the dagger hidden at his side.
"Mind if I sit?" the man asked, his voice smooth, almost friendly.
"I'm not looking for company," Tae-min replied, his tone flat.
The man chuckled, pulling out the chair across from him anyway. He placed a small, black coin on the table, its surface etched with strange runes that seemed to writhe under the light.
"You've been busy these past few days," the man said, ignoring Tae-min's glare. "Killing a Collector is no small feat."
Tae-min's pulse quickened. He hadn't told anyone about the Collector, but somehow this stranger knew. "Who are you?"
The man leaned back, his fingers idly spinning the coin. "Let's just say I'm someone who finds your predicament… intriguing. You can call me Seol."
Tae-min didn't respond, his eyes flicking to the coin. The runes seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"I know what you're thinking," Seol said, leaning forward. "You've been thrown into a game you don't understand, hunted by monsters you can't name. And that little book of yours?" He gestured to the journal. "It's both your lifeline and your curse."
"How do you know about the journal?" Tae-min demanded, his voice low.
Seol smirked. "Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on you. You're not the first Progenitor to emerge, you know. But you might be the last."
Tae-min's grip on the dagger tightened. "If you know so much, then tell me. Who's behind this? Why am I being hunted?"
Seol's expression darkened. "You're asking the wrong questions, Tae-min. It's not about who's hunting you—it's about why you exist at all."
Before Tae-min could press further, the diner's windows shattered with a deafening crash.
A dark figure leaped through the broken glass, its movements inhumanly fast. It landed in a crouch, rising to reveal a humanoid form wrapped in shadowy tendrils, its face obscured by a featureless mask.
The other patrons screamed and fled, but the creature paid them no mind. Its glowing eyes locked onto Tae-min, and it let out a guttural growl.
"A Wraith," Seol muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. "Persistent bastards, aren't they?"
The Wraith lunged, its clawed hand swiping toward Tae-min with deadly precision. He barely had time to react, rolling out of the booth as the table was torn apart in a spray of splinters.
"Tae-min, run!" Seol shouted, drawing a slender blade from his coat.
But Tae-min didn't run. He drew his own dagger, the blade humming faintly as it activated. The Wraith turned to him, its tendrils writhing with malevolent energy.
"You want me?" Tae-min growled. "Come and get me."
The Wraith charged, its claws slashing through the air. Tae-min dodged to the side, countering with a swift strike. His dagger cut through one of the tendrils, causing the creature to screech in pain.
Seol joined the fight, his blade flashing as he drove the Wraith back. "Not bad," he said, glancing at Tae-min. "But don't get cocky. These things don't go down easy."
The Wraith let out a roar, its body expanding as more tendrils erupted from its back. It lashed out wildly, forcing both men to retreat.
Tae-min's mind raced. The journal had said they would come for him at dawn, but he hadn't expected this. He needed an edge, something to turn the tide.
Then, as if in response to his desperation, the journal began to glow. It fell open on its own, revealing a single phrase written in bold:
"The blade in your hand is not your only weapon."
Tae-min stared at the words, realization dawning. He didn't know how he knew, but the journal was telling him to tap into the power he'd felt during his fight with the Collector.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the energy within him, the same energy that had once formed an ethereal blade in his hand. It responded, surging through him like a torrent.
When he opened his eyes, the dagger in his hand was no longer metal but a brilliant, glowing construct of light.
The Wraith hesitated, its movements faltering as if sensing the change. Tae-min didn't give it a chance to recover. He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the creature with ease.
The Wraith let out one final screech before dissolving into a cloud of black mist.
Tae-min stood there, panting, as the glowing blade flickered and faded. The diner was a wreck, shards of glass and overturned tables littering the floor.
Seol sheathed his blade, giving Tae-min an appraising look. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
Tae-min didn't answer. His gaze fell to the journal, which now displayed a new entry:
"The shadows have only begun to stir. Prepare yourself, Progenitor. The real hunt is about to begin."
He closed the journal, his jaw tightening.
"Seol," Tae-min said, his voice steady. "You're going to tell me everything. Now."
Seol smirked, leaning against the shattered counter. "Fair enough. But you're not going to like what you hear."
Tae-min clenched his fists. He didn't care anymore. He needed answers—and he was willing to fight for them.
The Progenitor
Chapter 3: The Whisper of Shadows
The flickering neon signs of Luminae City cast fragmented reflections on the rain-slick streets, their colors bleeding into the puddles like stains of forgotten promises. Yun Tae-min sat in a dimly lit diner, tucked into a booth at the far corner. The journal rested on the table before him, its leather cover damp from the rain, faintly glowing as if alive.
The waitress had already refilled his coffee twice, her eyes lingering on his disheveled appearance. But she didn't ask questions. No one in Luminae asked questions. Questions got people killed.
Tae-min stared at the pages of the journal, his finger tracing the most recent entry:
"They will come for you at dawn."
The words pulsed faintly, as if mocking him. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to toss the cursed thing into the nearest sewer. But he couldn't. The journal had saved his life, more than once, and now it was the only lead he had.
The door to the diner creaked open, and a chill ran down his spine.
He didn't look up immediately. Instead, he watched the distorted reflection in the window. A man entered, his frame tall and wiry, clad in a trench coat that dripped with rain. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.
Tae-min's grip tightened on the journal. Stay calm. Act natural.
The man approached the counter, ordering a coffee. But as he turned, his gaze locked onto Tae-min's booth. His lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.
Tae-min's instincts screamed at him to run.
The man began walking toward him, each step echoing like the ticking of a clock. Tae-min shifted in his seat, one hand slipping beneath the table to grip the dagger hidden at his side.
"Mind if I sit?" the man asked, his voice smooth, almost friendly.
"I'm not looking for company," Tae-min replied, his tone flat.
The man chuckled, pulling out the chair across from him anyway. He placed a small, black coin on the table, its surface etched with strange runes that seemed to writhe under the light.
"You've been busy these past few days," the man said, ignoring Tae-min's glare. "Killing a Collector is no small feat."
Tae-min's pulse quickened. He hadn't told anyone about the Collector, but somehow this stranger knew. "Who are you?"
The man leaned back, his fingers idly spinning the coin. "Let's just say I'm someone who finds your predicament… intriguing. You can call me Seol."
Tae-min didn't respond, his eyes flicking to the coin. The runes seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"I know what you're thinking," Seol said, leaning forward. "You've been thrown into a game you don't understand, hunted by monsters you can't name. And that little book of yours?" He gestured to the journal. "It's both your lifeline and your curse."
"How do you know about the journal?" Tae-min demanded, his voice low.
Seol smirked. "Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on you. You're not the first Progenitor to emerge, you know. But you might be the last."
Tae-min's grip on the dagger tightened. "If you know so much, then tell me. Who's behind this? Why am I being hunted?"
Seol's expression darkened. "You're asking the wrong questions, Tae-min. It's not about who's hunting you—it's about why you exist at all."
Before Tae-min could press further, the diner's windows shattered with a deafening crash.
A dark figure leaped through the broken glass, its movements inhumanly fast. It landed in a crouch, rising to reveal a humanoid form wrapped in shadowy tendrils, its face obscured by a featureless mask.
The other patrons screamed and fled, but the creature paid them no mind. Its glowing eyes locked onto Tae-min, and it let out a guttural growl.
"A Wraith," Seol muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. "Persistent bastards, aren't they?"
The Wraith lunged, its clawed hand swiping toward Tae-min with deadly precision. He barely had time to react, rolling out of the booth as the table was torn apart in a spray of splinters.
"Tae-min, run!" Seol shouted, drawing a slender blade from his coat.
But Tae-min didn't run. He drew his own dagger, the blade humming faintly as it activated. The Wraith turned to him, its tendrils writhing with malevolent energy.
"You want me?" Tae-min growled. "Come and get me."
The Wraith charged, its claws slashing through the air. Tae-min dodged to the side, countering with a swift strike. His dagger cut through one of the tendrils, causing the creature to screech in pain.
Seol joined the fight, his blade flashing as he drove the Wraith back. "Not bad," he said, glancing at Tae-min. "But don't get cocky. These things don't go down easy."
The Wraith let out a roar, its body expanding as more tendrils erupted from its back. It lashed out wildly, forcing both men to retreat.
Tae-min's mind raced. The journal had said they would come for him at dawn, but he hadn't expected this. He needed an edge, something to turn the tide.
Then, as if in response to his desperation, the journal began to glow. It fell open on its own, revealing a single phrase written in bold:
"The blade in your hand is not your only weapon."
Tae-min stared at the words, realization dawning. He didn't know how he knew, but the journal was telling him to tap into the power he'd felt during his fight with the Collector.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the energy within him, the same energy that had once formed an ethereal blade in his hand. It responded, surging through him like a torrent.
When he opened his eyes, the dagger in his hand was no longer metal but a brilliant, glowing construct of light.
The Wraith hesitated, its movements faltering as if sensing the change. Tae-min didn't give it a chance to recover. He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the creature with ease.
The Wraith let out one final screech before dissolving into a cloud of black mist.
Tae-min stood there, panting, as the glowing blade flickered and faded. The diner was a wreck, shards of glass and overturned tables littering the floor.
Seol sheathed his blade, giving Tae-min an appraising look. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
Tae-min didn't answer. His gaze fell to the journal, which now displayed a new entry:
"The shadows have only begun to stir. Prepare yourself, Progenitor. The real hunt is about to begin."
He closed the journal, his jaw tightening.
"Seol," Tae-min said, his voice steady. "You're going to tell me everything. Now."
Seol smirked, leaning against the shattered counter. "Fair enough. But you're not going to like what you hear."
Tae-min clenched his fists. He didn't care anymore. He needed answers—and he was willing to fight for them.