Aria didn't waste any time.
She turned on her heel and, without a word, stepped off the sidewalk and into the park, boots crunching softly against the gravel as she crossed the invisible line where the city gave up pretending it mattered.
I lingered behind for a second, staring after her. The glow of the streetlights faded just a few steps in, swallowed by trees and shadow.
Beyond them, the park stretched wide and dark, the kind of darkness that felt deliberate.
"Hey—wait," I said, dragging my feet as I followed. "Where are we going?"
"Practice," she replied flatly, not even glancing back.
Practice. Like that explained anything.
"What kind of practice?" I pressed. "You didn't really explain—"
"Need to see what you can do," she said.
"Not what you say you can do."
Her tone made it clear the conversation was over.
We moved deeper into the park, the pavement beneath our feet cracking and thinning until it vanished entirely. Dirt replaced stone. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot, damp and half-rotted. Weeds pushed up between gnarled roots, reclaiming the space inch by inch. The air grew cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of soil and old rain.
The city didn't disappear all at once. It faded in layers.
First the traffic noise dulled, then the distant voices, then even the hum of electricity seemed to fall away. What remained was the forest—alive in its own quiet way. Leaves rustled softly in the wind. Branches creaked overhead. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted once, then went silent.
It should have been peaceful.
It wasn't.
My perception buzzed violently, lighting up like a broken radar. Clues I didn't want. Sensations I didn't ask for.
Emotional waves crashed into me from all directions.
A junkie overdosing near the edge of the park, panic giving way to nothing. A man being robbed two paths over, his fear sharp and metallic. A couple tangled together behind a tree, lust and sweat and heat bleeding into the night.
All of it at once.
I staggered slightly, dizziness washing over me as my senses struggled to filter it out. My temples throbbed.
"Damn it…" I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment.
Aria noticed.
She slowed, just a fraction, head tilting slightly. "Perception type?"
"Yeah," I said, forcing the words out. "Seems like it."
"Learn to narrow it," she said. "Or it'll get you killed."
Easy for her to say.
As we pushed further in, something new crept into the noise. Not a sound exactly—more like a pressure. A low, ominous hum, vibrating faintly at the edge of my awareness. It wasn't coming from behind us or around us.
It was ahead.
Half a mile, maybe less.
The hum resonated inside my skull, steady and wrong, like a warning siren buried under bone.
I swallowed.
"Uh… Aria?" I said. "I think we should head back."
She didn't slow down.
"We're going too deep," I added. "My perception's picking up something big."
Her pace actually increased.
"What?" she called over her shoulder. "You chicken?"
There it was—that sharp, provoking edge to her voice. Not teasing exactly. More like she was poking at me, daring me to flinch.
It irritated me more than it should have.
"I'm serious," I said. "This place feels—"
"Dangerous?" she cut in. "Yeah. That's the point."
,
I clenched my jaw. I don't know if I like her all that much.
The hum intensified as we descended deeper into the forested section of the park. Trees clustered tighter together here, their canopies blotting out the moonlight.
Shadows stretched long and twisted across the forest floor, moving even when the wind didn't.
My perception shifted again.
The emotional noise thinned… replaced by something else.
Hunger.
Not human hunger. Something older. Sharper. Focused.
Animalistic.
Massive.
"What kind of practice is this supposed to be?" I asked, my voice lower now.
"You'll see," Aria replied. There was something almost playful in her tone now, like a boxer warming up before a match. "You're above level fifteen, right?"
The question hit me like a slap.
"No," I said slowly. "I'm… level five."
The hum in my head spiked violently, pain lancing through my skull.
Aria stopped dead.
"What?" She turned, eyes wide for the first time since we met. "Say that again."
"I'm level five," I repeated. "Why?"
Her expression shifted instantly—from casual confidence to alarm.
"Shit," she hissed. "No, no, no. We better head back. Now. Level five?! Why the hell is the system pairing you with me?!"
She spun on her heel, already changing direction.
That's when the howl came.
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The sound rolled through the trees like thunder wrapped in fur, deep and resonant, vibrating straight through my bones. Every muscle in my body locked up instantly.
I couldn't move.
Not just fear—though fear was there, thick and suffocating—but something deeper. Like my nerves had disconnected from my brain entirely. My legs refused to respond. My hands trembled uselessly at my sides.
Aria froze too.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Something stood behind us.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was enormous—easily the size of a large SUV, its bulk hunched beneath the trees like they weren't meant to contain it. At first glance, it looked like a wolf.
At second glance, it absolutely wasn't.
Its shape was distorted, wrong in ways my mind struggled to process. Its legs were stretched unnaturally long, joints bending backward in places they shouldn't. Thick patches of coarse, dark fur covered parts of its body, but between them—
Skin.
Human skin.
Pale, stretched, scarred.
Its face was the worst part.
Flat, intelligent eyes stared out from a skull that was almost human, yet elongated into a wolfish snout. Its mouth hung open slightly, saliva dripping in slow strands from crooked, oversized teeth. Not fangs. Not human.
Something in between.
It stared at us.
Hungry.
The system exploded into view, my vision flashing red.
[Creature Threat Level: CRITICAL DANGER]
Another line burned itself into my sight.
[Lykaon Spawn – Level 21]
My perception screamed.
Every instinct I had told me one thing, loud and clear:
Run.