The growl came again.
Closer this time.
Noah stopped walking. Streetlights buzzed behind him. Ahead — just dark, and whatever was sitting in it.
Not a dog. Not a person. The sound was too low for either, too deliberate. Like something that knew exactly where he was and wasn't in a hurry.
[HOSTILE DETECTED.]
[CLASS: SHADOW HOUND — D RANK]
[Gate escapee. Tracks by fear scent. Faster than it looks. Don't run.]
"Why not."
[Running triggers the chase reflex. You won't win that race.]
He stayed still. Eyes on the dark between the trees. Hand already moving to his jacket pocket.
Knife. Still there.
Something stepped out.
It looked like a dog the way a bad dream looks like a memory — almost right, wrong in every way that mattered. Too big. Too many joints in the legs. Fur that wouldn't lie flat. Eyes that caught the streetlight wrong — held it a second too long before letting go.
Noah's stomach dropped.
[Acting check: Passive — Fear suppressed.]
Barely.
The thing tilted its head. Sniffed once.
Took a step forward.
[Shadow Step is available.]
[There's a shadow at your nine o'clock. Lamppost. Six feet.]
He didn't look. Just felt it — the pull, like something at the edge of his vision that wasn't light.
The creature took another step.
Noah moved.
Shadow Step hit like a cold bucket — half a second of nothing, no sound, no air, no anything — and then he was six feet left, behind the creature's flank, knife already in his hand.
He drove it in hard, below where the shoulder would be on something normal.
The thing screamed. Wrong sound. Too high for something that size.
It spun fast. The backlash caught his arm and sent him skidding across the path. Gravel. Jacket gone at the elbow.
He was already up.
[Shadow Step: cooldown 30 seconds.]
"Great timing."
[You're the one who used it early.]
Thirty seconds. He needed to survive thirty seconds with nothing but a knife and whatever was left of his legs.
The creature shook itself. Rolled its shoulder where the knife had gone in. Blood matting the weird fur but not enough — not nearly enough. It turned to face him and there was something in its expression that wasn't animal. Something that had been watching things die for longer than he'd been alive.
It wasn't scared of him.
Noah took a breath. Slow. In through the nose.
[Heart rate: elevated.]
[Obviously.]
[Bring it down.]
He brought it down. Not that he wasn't scared. Just that three years of drama club taught him one thing — your body lies better than your mouth. He let his shoulders drop. Let his hands hang loose. Made his body say: I'm not a threat. I'm just standing here.
The creature paused.
[Interesting,] the text said. [It responds to body language.]
[Drama club paying off already.]
"Shut up."
[I'm just noting it.]
The creature took a slow step left. Testing. Noah didn't mirror it — just tracked with his eyes, weight still centered, hands still loose. Not prey. Not predator. Just present.
It stopped again.
[You have about fifteen seconds before it decides you're too confusing and just attacks anyway.]
Helpful.
The creature circled. Bleeding, but not slowing down. One of its too-many joints was moving wrong now — that was something. It kept the injured side away from him.
Smart.
[It's assessing you.]
[Make it stop assessing.]
Noah shifted his weight. Took one step left — slow, deliberate. The creature tracked him.
He took another.
It followed.
He stopped.
[What are you doing.]
"Finding out if it mirrors."
He took a slow step right.
The creature mirrored it.
There. Predictable.
He faked left — just a shoulder drop, nothing committed — and when it shifted he went right instead, fast, cutting the distance in half before it could correct. Knife found the same spot. Deeper this time.
The thing went down.
Not dead. But not getting up fast.
Noah stood over it breathing hard. Jacket wrecked. Elbow bleeding through the tear.
Then it dissolved. No blood. No body. Just smoke pulling back into nothing, like it had never been there.
He stared at the empty patch of path.
Three in the morning. Thing dead at his feet and nothing to show for it.
[HOSTILE NEUTRALIZED.]
Ping.
[QUEST PROGRESS: SURVIVE THE NIGHT — 1/1 THREATS CLEARED]
Ping.
[LOOT DROPPED:]
[Shadow Fang — unranked material. Useful. Don't ask for what yet.]
[8 Bronze Coins]
Ping.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: THING WITHOUT A NAME]
[You killed something the classification system hasn't caught up to yet.]
[Reward: +1 VIT]
Noah crouched. Picked up the fang — dense, slightly warm, darker than it had any right to be. Turned it over once. Pocketed it next to the coins.
Stood up. Elbow still bleeding through the jacket tear. He pressed it against his side and kept moving.
[DAILY QUEST COMPLETE: SURVIVE THE NIGHT]
Ping.
[Reward: +1 to all stats. Hunter Registration unlocked.]
Ping.
[LEVEL UP.]
Ping.
[YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 3.]
Ping.
[+10 STAT POINTS AVAILABLE.]
He read through it. Didn't distribute yet. Head still loud from the fight.
The creature had stopped moving.
He looked at it. Gate residue had brought it here — that's what Hades said. Something old — something that existed before gods put names on things.
Now it was just dead on the path at 3 AM. That was enough.
"Is that going to keep happening," he said.
[Things will find you, yes.]
[You carry something worth finding.]
[Get used to it.]
He started walking. Home was four minutes away. Elbow stung through the jacket tear. Didn't matter.
"Hunter Registration," he said. "What exactly does that mean for me."
[It means tomorrow you stop being a civilian who stumbles into gates by accident.]
[And start being someone who walks in on purpose.]
[There's a registration office. I'll mark it.]
A small icon appeared at the edge of his vision — map marker, blue, two blocks from his school.
"Tomorrow," he said.
[Tomorrow. Get some sleep.]
He turned onto his street.
The porch light was on.
Always on when he was late. Every single time, no exceptions.
He stopped at the end of the driveway. Looked at it. Same light. Same door.
He went inside.