The chamber sealed itself the moment the final rune activated.
No records.
No witnesses.
No mercy.
A crimson sigil burned at the center of the High Council's table, its shape unfamiliar even to the elders. Dust stirred as ancient mechanisms awakened beneath the marble floor—systems built not for governance, but for extinction.
One by one, the council members rose.
"The classification is confirmed," the First Arbiter announced. "Threat Level: Absolute."
Silence followed.
Even among monsters, there were hierarchies. Even among disasters, there were limits. This category existed beyond both.
An elder leaned forward, his voice tight. "When was the last time this designation was used?"
The analyst hesitated before answering. "Seven hundred and twelve years ago."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"And the result?" another asked.
"There was no result," the analyst replied quietly. "There was no world left to record one."
The sigil flared brighter.
"Proceed," the First Arbiter ordered.
---
Deep beneath the council chamber, a vault unsealed for the first time in generations.
Chains thicker than towers recoiled. Seals etched with forgotten languages cracked open. Within the darkness, figures stirred—human once, perhaps, but long since reshaped into weapons.
A voice echoed through the vault.
"Directive acknowledged."
"Target identified."
"Authorization: Extermination."
Eyes opened in the dark.
And somewhere far above, the night shuddered.
---
Xturdia felt it instantly.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Pressure.
The darkness around him tightened—not resisting, but bracing. Shadows pulled closer to his form, coiling like living armor. The air itself seemed reluctant to move.
He stopped walking.
"So," he said softly, "they chose."
The darkness did not whisper this time.
It warned.
Xturdia closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, memories surfaced—steel chains, cold walls, voices that called him dangerous long before he understood why.
When his eyes opened again, they reflected nothing at all.
"They still think I can be erased," he murmured.
The shadows stretched outward, touching distant places he had never seen—vaults, sanctuaries, hidden corridors beneath the world.
Something old noticed him.
Something older answered.
---
At the edge of civilization, a city lost its shadow.
Every person stood beneath the sun… untouched by darkness.
Then the light dimmed.
Far above, the High Council's warning systems screamed as one.
"Report!" someone shouted.
The analyst stared at the readings, his face draining of color.
"He's moving," he whispered.
"Not toward us…"
A pause.
"…through us."
---
Xturdia stepped forward, and the world bent—not violently, but inevitably.
If they wanted extinction, he would show them what extinction truly meant.
And this time—
he would not wait to be hunted.
END OF CHAPTER II...
COMING UP
ACT I - CHAPTER III : THOSE WHO HUNT THE DARK
They do not wear uniforms.
They do not answer to nations.
Their names are removed from history the moment they are chosen.
As ancient armories unlock and sealed weapons are reclaimed, a single command spreads across hidden channels:
"Release the hunters."
Far from the council chambers, Xturdia pauses again.
This time, the darkness does not warn him.
It smiles.
TO BE CONTINUED...