Rain whispered against the windows, a soft patter that mirrored the rhythm of Lunaria's heartbeat. The house was quiet, each corner breathing in its own calm. Ash, Kael, Riven, and Juno were asleep, sprawled across the rooms with a sense of exhausted trust, unaware that Lunaria's thoughts had already drifted far from modern walls and warmth.
He sat on the edge of his bed, his waist-length moonlight hair falling freely over his shoulders, no ribbon to bind it. His hands rested on his knees, still, yet his mind raced across a labyrinth of stone and shadow. The mission before the holiday came alive in memory, a vivid tableau of terror and precision that had tested him in ways the others could scarcely imagine.
"I never told you all the details," he murmured, his voice soft but steady. The others stirred at the whisper of his tone but remained mostly asleep, curious to hear him speak.
"The last mission… the one before the break," he continued, "was unlike any other. The guild labeled it as a Contamination-Class Gate, buried beneath the ruins of a deserted district. No one survived who had gone in before me. The maps were useless, the reports fragmentary. I went alone."
Kael shifted in his sleep, murmuring something. Ash turned over slightly, listening, while Juno and Riven drew their blankets closer. Lunaria's gaze drifted to the ceiling, where faint shadows flickered. "The dungeon wasn't just alive—it was aware. Every step I took, every breath I drew, moved it. The walls pulsed, the tunnels shifted. I could feel it watching, responding."
He paused, letting the memory settle like fog in the room. "And then the ant monsters emerged."
Juno's eyebrows knitted together. "Ants?"
He shook his head, a faint, grim smile tugging at his lips. "Not ordinary insects. These were aberrant creatures—towering, armored, with crystalline eyes and limbs that ended in sharp blades. They moved as a tide, not a swarm. Thousands… hundreds of thousands. Every death only strengthened the swarm. Every attack became learned, adapted against me."
Ash's eyes narrowed. "How did you—how did you even survive?"
Lunaria's gaze darkened. "I fought. I cut, I burned, I erased. Abyssal energy tore through their ranks, chaos ripped their bodies apart, yet they came on relentlessly. Hours blurred. The dungeon itself screamed with the echoes of the dying and the multiplying."
Riven's voice was quiet, awed. "You used your ultimate skill."
"Yes." Lunaria exhaled slowly, feeling the memory of the power like a phantom in his chest. "I didn't want to, but I had no choice. The swarm replicated faster than any hunter could react. My fusion of abyss and chaos… it wasn't destruction. It was erasure."
He closed his eyes, seeing it all unfold again. A sphere of collapsing night blossomed from him, stretching, folding space, snuffing out the monstrous tide. Sound itself seemed to vanish. The swarm shrieked in forms of vibration, then ceased to exist entirely. Every corridor, every chamber, every blade-limbed aberration became nothingness.
"And yet…" Lunaria's voice was quieter, haunted. "One remained. The Queen."
The others stirred slightly. Ash sat up a little straighter. "The Queen?"
"She was immense," Lunaria said. "A cathedral of chitin and crystal. Wings like broken moons, eyes ancient, burning. Around her lay the remnants of her children, the first generation destroyed by my strike. She did not attack me. She didn't need to. She understood what I was… the agent of their extinction."
Juno's voice was a whisper. "And you… spared her?"
"Yes," Lunaria replied firmly. "I left her alive. Not because of mercy… but because killing her then would have unleashed something far worse. I sensed it. Her power… it would grow, adapt, evolve."
In that moment, the narrative shifted. Beneath the earth, deep within the collapsed dungeon, the Queen stirred. Her immense form moved gracefully atop a throne of broken exoskeletons and bone. Around her, a new generation of aberrant ants and monsters stirred, drawn to her presence, bound by instinct and vengeance. She had survived to rebuild, to propagate her fury, to plan the ultimate revenge.
She opened herself to the others of her kind—not in tenderness, not in care, but with a purpose sharpened like a blade. Every union, every act of propagation, was an imprint of wrath. Her children were being forged to hunt him, to avenge the countless generations destroyed by Lunaria's hand. The hive echoed with her intent. Every new life would carry the knowledge of the massacre, every instinct bent toward vengeance.
Above, in the quiet of his modern house, Lunaria exhaled. His hand brushed over his hair, his mind tethered briefly to the softness of blankets, the smell of rain, the distant hum of neon. But beneath it all, the dread of the Queen's wrath lingered—a storm of creation, breeding, and revenge that had already begun to rise beneath the earth, shaped entirely by his past actions.
"The Queen is building again," he said quietly to the room, though the others were only half-awake, drawn in by the gravity of his voice. "She will not forgive. She will not stop. And she remembers me."
Kael blinked. "So this… this isn't over?"
"No," Lunaria replied. "It can never be over. The swarm is gone, but the seed of vengeance has been planted. The Queen has already started creating a force beyond the city's reckoning, beyond even what the guild can track. Her brood will hunt me, and she will watch, always."
Ash's hand brushed the back of his neck. "And you're telling us this… now?"
"Because you need to understand," Lunaria said, voice steady, calm. "Everything we do, every mission, every battle, it ripples. The last mission wasn't just a kill—it was an awakening. And the consequences are far from gone. The Queen's wrath will come, and I must be ready. I must stay ahead. Because if I falter, the city, my friends, everyone I care for, will pay the price."
Juno stirred, shivering slightly despite the blankets. "And… her children?"
"They are growing," Lunaria said. "Not naturally, not slowly. Shaped by abyssal and chaotic energy, drawn from her very being. Each one will carry her memory, her desire for vengeance, and the intelligence of a predator who knows what I am capable of. They are designed to be unrelenting."
The room fell silent, save for the rain, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the unspoken weight of the revelation. Lunaria leaned back against the bedpost, hands clasped over his stomach. His eyes were clear, unreadable, yet inside, the calculation of survival and strategy had already begun.
"I spared her once," he said finally. "I gave her life instead of death. And now I have to live knowing what she will become. That is the burden of power. That is the burden of the hunter who steps beyond limits. And yet…" His lips curved slightly, almost imperceptibly. "We survived. The swarm is gone. I am still here. And we will continue. We always continue."
The others remained quiet, absorbing the weight, the dark elegance of the story, and the quiet resolve that emanated from Lunaria. Outside, the rain softened, tapping against the window like a countdown, a reminder of time passing, of the inevitable clash to come.
And deep beneath the city, in the ruins of the dungeon, the Queen stirred again, wings unfurling in shadow, eyes burning with memory and anticipation. She whispered his name in the dark, the vow of vengeance echoing against stone and flesh.
Lunaria.
The hunter had destroyed her kingdom. And she would not forget.
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