The Hunt Ends – A Wrath Unleashed
The night had fallen.
Villedor's sky was a void of darkness, stretching endlessly above the ruined city.
The open field had been the perfect bait.
Too much space. Too much movement. Too many people.
It was provocation. A challenge. A call.
And now—the answer had come.
The Warning
Draemir remained nearby, watching.
The only thing keeping the survivors alive at this very moment…
Was him.
His presence alone.
The Biters and Virals that had answered his call stood waiting. They did not move.
But something was coming.
Something that would not be controlled.
Then—he saw it.
Far away.
Moving fast.
Something terrible.
And in an instant—Draemir acted.
He leapt down, landing with force.
Draemir:
"Leave. NOW!"
The survivors flinched, startled by his sudden arrival.
Some hesitated, confused.
Others—the smart ones—ran immediately.
Then, a few seconds later, they all ran.
And just in time.
Because the moment the last of them cleared the field—
The Demolisher arrived.
A Monster Unleashed
A behemoth of flesh and bone, mutated beyond recognition.
Its muscles twisted unnaturally beneath its grotesque, infected skin.
Eyes burning red.
Mouth twisted in rage.
And walls crumbled beneath its sheer power as it charged forward, straight toward Draemir.
A lesser man would have been crushed.
A lesser warrior would have been sent flying.
But Draemir?
He caught it.
The ground beneath him cracked, dirt and debris exploding outward from the sheer force of the impact.
Then—he pushed.
And the monster fell.
The Demolisher hit the ground with a crash, struggling.
Draemir took a single step forward.
His golden eyes flashed.
And then—
The growl came.
A deep, guttural, primal roar.
A call of something worse.
Then—it arrived.
The Night Hunter
A blur of movement.
A deep, ear-piercing Volatile growl.
And then—Crane was there.
The Night Hunter.
Once a man.
Now… something else.
Something feral. Twisted. Changed beyond recognition.
And he wasn't alone.
More mutated infected followed.
Creatures that had never been seen before in Harran.
Things that only this city, this virus, had created.
Then—they turned.
Turned toward the survivors.
And they charged.
The Chase Begins – The Fight Begins
The survivors ran.
The infected followed.
But so did the Virals under Draemir's command.
The battle of the night began.
And in the center of it all—two beings stood still.
Two predators.
Two opposites.
One of night.
One of day.
And then—they moved.
The Night Hunter rushed forward.
Draemir met him.
The clash was immediate—brutal.
Claws against claws. Power against power.
And at first—it wasn't fair.
Draemir was winning.
His strength surpassed the Night Hunter's.
His combat was perfect. Precise. Ruthless.
And then—
The light came.
Draemir glowed, his body illuminating like the sun itself.
And the Night Hunter?
It burned.
But Crane—even in his monstrous form—was still a survivor.
Still a fighter.
And so—he adapted.
A purple blast struck Draemir's body.
A sticky, pulsing substance—clinging to him, as if absorbing his glow.
And then—his light faded.
As if someone had flicked a switch.
Draemir looked down, confused, feeling the sticky energy wrapping over his form.
And in that moment—Crane struck.
The Night Hunter rushed him, faster than before.
This time, the fight was different.
Because now—Draemir was being tested.
Now, Crane had the advantage.
Now, it was a true battle.
Breaking the Chains
Draemir moved, dodged, countered.
But Crane was relentless.
The sticky substance weighed Draemir down, suppressing his ability to burn bright.
And then—Crane struck from behind.
His tendrils wrapped around Draemir, gripping, pulling him down.
A trap. A kill move.
But then—Draemir's pupils flashed.
And in that instant—the substance melted away.
The light returned.
And then—
He broke free.
With a mighty, furious roar, Draemir shattered Crane's hold.
The Night Hunter staggered back—blinded, burning.
And that's when Draemir took control.
The beating began.
A brutal, unrelenting storm of blows.
Each punch cracked the air.
Each strike shattered flesh and bone.
Then—the final move.
Draemir rushed forward.
Slamming Crane into a wall, pinning him.
His clawed fingers wrapped around the monster's throat.
And then—the reckoning.
The Wrath of the Sun Draemir:
"This is for Zere!"
A strike to the face.
Draemir:
"This is for Harran!"
Another punch, harder.
Draemir:
"This is for those in the Tower you abandoned!"
Fists struck like hammers.
Flesh tore. Bones cracked.
Draemir switched hands, gripping Crane with his left—so he could strike harder with his right.
Draemir:
"This is for the Mother!"
A massive blow—enough to shake the wall itself.
Crane shuddered in Draemir's grip.
Weakened. Defeated.
Draemir:
"This is for me."
A rage-filled strike.
Draemir:
"This is for all the times you abandoned me!"
Punch.
Punch.
More. More. More.
Until his fist clenched tighter.
And then—it ignited.
A flame of gold.
A burning inferno—the wrath of the sun itself.
Draemir:
"And this… this is for EVERYONE!"
One final strike.
The Night Hunter's head shattered.
The wall behind him broke apart from the force.
And then—Draemir stood still.
Breathing heavily.
His left hand still gripping what remained of Crane's body.
The battle was over.
But his rage still burned.
The End of the Hunt – A New Path Begins
The battlefield was silent.
The dust settled, the scent of blood and decay thick in the night air.
The Night Hunter was dead.
But Draemir wasn't done.
The Demolisher's End
Draemir turned, his heavy breathing steadying.
His golden eyes flickered toward the fallen Demolisher, its body still twitching faintly.
It was alive, barely.
But that wasn't going to last.
Draemir walked forward, unhurried.
Then—he raised his right hand.
Fingers clenching into a tight fist.
And with a single, calculated motion—
He brought it down.
A thunderous impact.
His punch struck the back of the Demolisher's skull, splitting flesh, shattering bone.
A grotesque crack echoed through the night.
Its body convulsed.
Then—it stopped moving.
Lifeless.
Dead.
Draemir exhaled, stepping back.
A Sample for the Future
From his belt, he retrieved an injector—one meant for emergencies.
Tonight, it served a different purpose.
He knelt beside the Demolisher's corpse, pressing the injector to its exposed flesh.
The device hissed, drawing a dark, thick sample of mutated blood.
He studied it for a brief moment.
This was new.
A mutation beyond Harran's infected.
And it was worth studying.
He stored the sample carefully, securing it.
Then, without another glance back—
He walked.
The Trail of the Dead – A Path to the Bazaar
Draemir followed the aftermath of the battle.
A trail of slaughtered infected—Virals, Biters—marked the way forward.
Some killed by his own command.
Others—by the survivors who had fled.
The night stretched long, the city eerie in its silence.
And then—he reached it.
A safe zone.
A place Aiden had spoken of before.
The Bazaar.
The UV lights burned bright, marking the borders of safety.
But Draemir did not hesitate.
He walked forward, closer.
Then—he saw it.
Even in death, Crane's body reacted.
The UV lights still burned against his flesh.
So—Draemir shielded him.
With his own arms, his own body, he covered what he could.
Then, with his free hand—he knocked.
The Decision of the Survivors
The door remained closed at first.
Hesitation. Fear.
Then—slowly—it creaked open.
A survivor peeked out.
Eyes wide, cautious—until they recognized him.
And then—the door opened further.
Draemir stepped inside.
And then, without ceremony, without hesitation—
He lifted the lifeless, decapitated body of the Night Hunter for all to see.
Draemir:
"Here it is!..."
His voice echoed. Commanding. Unshaken.
Draemir:
"Kyle Crane… or at least, who used to be Kyle Crane!..."
The Bazaar fell silent.
Survivors stared. Some in disbelief. Some in awe. Some in horror.
This was real.
The monster that haunted their nights… was dead.
And the one who had done it?
Stood before them.
Then—Draemir spoke again.
Draemir:
"No matter how dark the night seems to be…"
"There is always a light to bright—to glow the weak flame and light the path."
His golden eyes burned.
His presence filled the room.
Then—he gave them the choice.
Draemir:
"And so… those who accepted…do we leave right now, tonight?"
"Or in the morning?"
The survivors looked at each other.
And now—they had to decide.
The Survivors' Final Choice – Leaving the Old World Behind
The Bazaar remained silent.
The weight of Draemir's words—and the lifeless corpse of the Night Hunter—hung heavy in the air.
Survivors stared, frozen.
Some in shock.
Some in fear.
Some in awe.
For so long, Crane had been a name spoken in whispers.
A legend. A ghost. A monster lurking in the dark.
And now?
His body lay lifeless before them.
The boogeyman of the night—dead at Draemir's hands.
The proof was undeniable.
The fear of the unknown had been shattered.
And in its place… a new truth.
A new path.
A path to Solara.
But would they take it?
The First to Speak
The murmurs started slowly.
Hushed voices. Quiet discussions.
Some still hesitated.
But others?
Others were ready.
Then—one man stepped forward.
A rugged survivor, scarred and weathered by years of hardship.
His eyes locked onto Draemir.
Then—he nodded.
Hardened Survivor:
"We leave now."
A few others turned toward him.
Then—another voice.
Young Woman:
"Yeah. The sooner we get out of here, the better."
A mother—clutching her child's hand—spoke next.
Worried Mother:
"If what you say is true… if Solara is real… then we can't waste another night here."
Then, one by one, more survivors stepped forward.
Their faces still carried hesitation.
Fear of the unknown.
But they had seen enough.
They had lived in this broken city long enough.
And now?
They were ready to leave it behind.
Not Everyone Would Go
But not all stepped forward.
Some still stood at a distance.
Watching. Listening. But unmoving.
A few shook their heads.
Skeptical Survivor:
"I can't. I've lived in Villedor too long. I know this place. I know how to survive here. I'm not risking something I don't understand."
Another crossed his arms, frowning.
Doubtful Man:
"I'm grateful for what you did… but trusting a man who can command Volatiles? I don't know if I can do that."
A few simply turned and walked away.
They weren't angry.
They weren't convinced.
They just couldn't take the risk.
And that was their choice.
Draemir had offered the path.
But he would not force them to walk it.
The Decision Was Made
At the end—
Dozens chose to leave.
Some with hesitation.
Some with confidence.
But all of them had one thing in common.
Hope.
Hope that Solara was real.
Hope that this wasn't another lie.
Hope that for the first time since the world fell apart… they could actually live again.
And so—the decision was made.
They would leave.
Tonight.