The dead man shouldn't have been standing.
Yet, there he was—his eyes glowing an unnatural silver, his mouth stretched into something that was almost a grin. Ethan Cross barely had time to process before the thing lunged at him, its movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette with its strings cut.
Ethan sidestepped, gripping the short dagger at his hip. The blade pulsed with ancient runes, casting flickering blue light onto the alley's soaked pavement. Not yet, he thought. He needed answers before he put this thing down.
The rain poured harder, drowning out the distant sirens of the city. The alley smelled like rot—blood and something older, something wrong. The man, or whatever was left of him, let out a guttural snarl as he turned toward Ethan again, his neck snapping at an impossible angle.
"Yeah, you're definitely not supposed to be walking," Ethan muttered.
The thing lunged again. This time, Ethan moved faster. He stepped into the attack, twisting his body as his dagger flashed—one clean slice across the chest. The runes flared, and the thing shrieked as black smoke erupted from the wound. The body convulsed, limbs thrashing before it collapsed in a heap. The glow in its eyes faded.
Silence.
Ethan exhaled and wiped the rain off his forehead. He crouched beside the corpse, studying the symbols carved into its chest. They weren't just runes. They were part of something bigger. A pattern. A message. And Ethan had seen it before—in his nightmares.
Then came the voices.
"Revenant Division! Hands where we can see them!"
Ethan didn't even turn around. Here we go.
Two figures approached from the alley's entrance—government agents by the look of them. The man in front was broad-shouldered, his handgun locked onto Ethan's head. The woman beside him, with sharp green eyes and a badge clipped to her belt, studied the body instead.
"You're not supposed to be here," the woman said. Her voice was calm, controlled.
Ethan finally looked up, rain dripping from his jacket. "Yeah, well… neither was he."
The bulkier agent tightened his grip on the gun. "You do this?"
"If I did, you wouldn't have found the body." Ethan stood, slipping the dagger into his belt. "But we have bigger problems."
The woman frowned. "Bigger than murder?"
The air grew colder. The streetlights flickered.
Ethan sighed. "Yeah. A lot bigger."
The body moved.
The agents barely had time to react before the corpse jerked upright, its head snapping toward them, silver eyes glowing again. Its mouth opened unnaturally wide, a horrible, echoing screech filling the alley.
The bulky agent panicked, opening fire. The bullets hit—but they did nothing. The thing kept moving.
Ethan was already in motion. He lunged, dagger slicing through the air. The runes along the blade burned bright as he plunged it deep into the creature's heart. This time, the reaction was instant. The corpse burst apart, black mist curling into the sky before vanishing.
The only sound left was the rain.
Ethan turned to the stunned agents, rolling his shoulders. "See what I mean?"
The bulky agent was still gripping his gun with white-knuckled fear, but the woman… she wasn't scared. She was calculating.
She took a slow step forward. "Who the hell are you?"
Ethan locked eyes with her. The storm above rumbled like an omen.
He smirked. "The dead don't stay dead. And I'm the reason they wish they did."
---