"The hunter who hides in plain sight always ready to strike, should beware-for the hunter shall soon be hunted."
They were two, cloaked in black, sprinting through the bustling market. Behind them, the thunderous steps of enforcers closed in.
Panic bled from their every movement. They shoved past merchants, knocked the curses hurled at them by startled civilians.
"This is all your fault George!" one of them barked mid-run. "If you'd just handed me the crystal none of this would've happened!"
"Oh, piss off, Jonny! You think you're the leader now?"
"Well, yeah! I'm the one with the brain here!"
"Are you calling me a fool!?"
The bickering was cut short when they approached a young woman standing calmly in their path. She looked around nineteen. Red hair cropped short, black eyes that gleamed with quiet fire. She took a bite of a warm bun, unfazed by the chaos barreling toward her.
She wore a black skirt, both lined with purple trim-some kind of uniform.
She didn't move. She didn't even flinch.
"Outta the way!" George snarled, unsheathing a hidden blade from beneath his cloak.
He slashed at her.
She caught the tip of the sword with her bare left hand.
George froze. "W-What the hell?"
Before he could react, the girl twisted, kicking George squarely in the chest. He flew backward, his sword spinning into the air.
"Bastard!" Johnny roared and charged, swinging a dagger.
She didn't bother turning. Instead, she flipped backward in a perfect moonsault, kicking Johnny mid-air and slamming him into a stone wall.
George groaned, spitting blood. He reached into his cloak with shaking fingers.
"I didn't want to use this… but you forced my hand."
He pulled out the crystal. It glowed-an eerie, pulsating blue. Without hesitation, he pressed it to his chest.
The crystal sank into his chest.
His body twisted, bones snapping and muscles swelling unnaturally. Black fur erupted from his arms. His eyes turned beast-like, glowing blue. Claws, fangs, and rage replaced the man he once was.
He lunged.
But the girl just stood there.
Unshaken.
George's monstrous form crashed through crates and shattered cobblestones as he lunged. The girl stood her ground, eyes calm, expression unreadable.
"Die!" the beast roared; claws aimed straight for her throat.
She took a single step back-then touched the ground with her left hand.
The stone beneath her fingers shimmered faintly, then shifted. The tiles morphed into thin, silvery blades, gleaming in the dim morning light.
SHK!
The beast's momentum carried him straight into the sharpened floor. Dozens of blades pierced his limbs, slicing open fur and muscle. He howled in agony, twisting midair to escape-but even that wasn't enough.
"W-What is this… !?" he cried out barely landing on all fours. His arm now dripping with blood.
She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, calmly finishing the last bite of her bun.
"You're not the first human I've seen lose themselves to a crystal," she muttered.
"So you can finally talk."
"I could always talk, it's just bad manners to speak whilst eating."
"Manners my foot!" George roared charging again, faster this time. His body was still mutating-growing more jagged, feral.
She grabbed a nearby wooden pole from a broken stall, fingers running down its length.
A soft hum echoed. The dull wood sharpened instantly, the surface now shimmering like tempered steel.
"Edge Weaving," she whispered. "All that I touch shall cut."
The pole now resembled a lance. With perfect poise, she drove it forward just as George reached her.
CRACK!
The makeshift weapon tore through his shoulder, sending a spray of corrupted blood into the air. He howled in agony again, tumbling backward into the shattered tiles that now sliced at his flesh from every angle.
Johnny, slowly regaining consciousness by the wall, stared wide-eyed at the carnage.
"She's a monster…" he breathed.
George was panting now, his monstrous breath forming clouds of mist.
"Damn you…." He snarled. "What are you!?"
Suddenly, a voice called out from behind.
"Princess!" one of the enforcers shouted as the unit finally arrived.
"Stand back. Let me deal with this," she said without turning
"But, Princess—"
"That's a direct order."
George let out a raspy laugh, blood trailing down his chin.
"So you're the princess, huh? A child of that so-called 'Great King'—Lois Vergild. The man who brought this curse upon the land… and ran off."
The girl's gaze sharpened. She stepped toward a nearby fruit stall, placing her hand on it. The entire thing shifted—every plank, every piece of fruit, turning razor-thin and deadly. She pointed a finger toward George.
"You asked what I am?" she said, voice low but clear. "I'm just a student… by the name Clair Vergild." Her black eyes gleamed coldly. "One who excels at dissection."
She stepped forward.
"Class is over, beast."
---
Elsewhere...
On the roof of a worn-down building overlooking the chaos, a boy stood silently, hands tucked in his coat pockets. He was around Clair's age. His short black hair danced in the rising breeze, and his violet eyes shimmered like amethysts, he had grown well fir this was Zach.
He wore the same uniform—black and purple, the male version. An untouched apple rested in his palm. He brought it to his lips, took a slow bite, and watched the scene below unfold.
"This is getting interesting," he murmured, a sly smile creeping onto his face. His eyes never left Clair.
"Entertain me… dear sister."