Chapter 23 – The Hunt Begins

  The wind howled low through the skeletal trees as Seven and the others descended the slope, barely a hundred feet from the research facility’s ruined entrance.

  Their breaths came in short, visible bursts, the crisp air biting against damp clothing. Mana crystals pulsed faintly in Chris’s satchel, while the Nameless Wing creaked softly against Seven’s back with each careful step.

  Though they had made it out alive, the mood was uneasy—a quiet victory haunted by questions.

  “We’ll rest once we clear the ridge,” Seven said, scanning the path ahead. “Too exposed here.”

  No one argued.

  None of them knew.

  A predator was already watching.

  High above the frost-coated ledges—perched like a phantom between ice and dusk—Saya crouched, completely still.

  Her snow-white hair drifted on the wind, twin tails coiled behind her like poised vipers. Her silhouette barely rippled, cloaked by a frost shimmer so precise it bent light around her. The air itself refused to betray her presence.

  Eyes glowing—crimson-ringed gold—narrowed with predatory intrigue.

  Six humans.

  But these were different.

  Their mana danced erratically—unrefined, imperfect.

  Not natives. Not prey she understood.

  “Interesting…” she murmured, voice like silk brushing over a blade. “They carry pain... but also potential.”

  Her gaze lingered on Jasmine—her warmth, her concern. Then to Chris—sharp mind, unsteady aura.

  “Fragile,” she whispered, baring one fang in amusement. “But flavor isn’t always found in strength.”

  She flexed her fingers slowly, her claws elongating and retreating as if debating which would draw the first blood.

  And then she vanished.

  Not with sound.

  Not with flash.

  But as if the world had always forgotten she was there.

  They never saw her move.

  Only heard it.

  A distant scream.

  Sharp.

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  Desperate.

  Echoing from behind—the same facility they had just escaped.

  “Help… please…”

  The voice cracked with pain. Female. Bleeding. Crawling.

  Jasmine’s head snapped toward the sound. Her eyes widened. “Someone’s alive!”

  “Wait—!” Seven reached for her shoulder, but she was already gone.

  Yuri stiffened. “That scream—too perfect. Too clean.”

  Chris frowned. “It could be real—”

  “Or bait,” Yuri cut in, voice cold.

  But Jasmine was already sprinting.

  She dropped to her knees beside the collapsed figure—a bloodied young woman, face half-buried in snow, shivering violently. Her arm reached toward Jasmine, fingers trembling.

  Jasmine leaned closer. “It’s okay—you’re safe now. We’re here.”

  The woman’s mouth twitched.

  Her eyes flicked upward—

  And smiled.

  The illusion shattered.

  The form dissolved into smoke and frost, petals of magic dispersing into the wind.

  Before Jasmine could react—

  Saya struck.

  She emerged like a dream collapsing into a nightmare—one moment mist, the next flesh and fang. Her claw lashed forward, aiming for Jasmine’s heart, deadly and precise.

  But Seven moved faster.

  Instinct. Training. Sacrifice.

  He tackled Jasmine out of the way.

  CRACK.

  Saya’s claw punched through Seven’s armor, tearing deep beneath his right shoulder. The force spun him midair—his back hit the frozen ground hard, blood spraying across the snow like blooming ink.

  Jasmine screamed—

  “SEVEN!”

  His body twitched once.

  Then went still.

  Saya stood tall in the snow, blood slicking her claw as it dripped steadily onto the frost-crusted earth.

  Her eyes glowed—rings of molten gold and crimson—their intensity cutting through the blizzard haze like twin embers in the dark.

  She lifted her fingers slowly… and licked them clean.

  “Mmm… unexpected,” she purred, voice silken and amused. “That one’s strong. I like that. Little Morsel.”

  Beneath her, Seven groaned, armor cracked and bleeding but not impaled. The plating over his chest had absorbed the worst of the strike—the claw hadn’t gone as deep as intended.

  Still, the damage was brutal.

  He rolled onto his side, breathing shallowly, blood soaking the snow beneath him.

  The others stood frozen.

  Chris trembled, hand glowing faintly with mana. Jasmine knelt beside Seven, shielding him as best she could.

  Saya’s gaze slid lazily across them—not as if studying enemies, but selecting cuts of meat from a menu.

  “You called us morsels,” Jake muttered, stepping forward.

  Yuri's blades flashed into position, gleaming silver against the pale sky. Greg moved beside her, fists clenched and stained from a shallow cut across his chest.

  “You think we’re food?” Greg growled, his voice low.

  Saya chuckled. A low, melodic sound—too calm for the battlefield.

  “You smell like prey,” she said with a smile. “All six of you.”

  Then her gaze shifted.

  To Chris.

  Her expression shifted slightly—hunger, yes—but now... curiosity.

  “Mmm... Spatial magic,” she whispered with reverence. “Now that’s a rare spice.”

  Seven coughed, struggling to rise—arm limp, eyes locked on her silhouette. Despite the agony, his voice cut through the tension like flint striking steel.

  “You’re not walking away from this,” he hissed.

  Jake stepped forward, slamming his palm into the ground. A wall of ice erupted upward, shielding Seven and Jasmine.

  “Yuri! Greg! Take point!”

  Saya tilted her head.

  “Oh, do fight back. I insist.”

  Then—she vanished.

  A blur of white and shadow.

  Jake was airborne before he could blink—slammed into a snowbank with a grunt, ice shattering around him.

  Greg roared, swinging wide—but Saya danced between his fists, slipping through his guard like water through fingers. She slashed across his chest, drawing blood, then flipped back with feline grace—ten paces in a single arc, tails trailing like silk ribbons.

  “She’s fast!” Greg barked, chest heaving.

  Seven fired his M4—short bursts tracking her movement.

  She blurred, weaving through broken trees and rocky outcroppings, her laughter trailing behind like a siren’s song.

  He landed a hit—barely grazing her hip.

  Saya laughed again, voice wicked and sweet.

  “A gun? How quaint.”

  Jake staggered upright, frost lacing his arms. He readied a spell, uncertain.

  Yuri didn’t wait.

  She lunged, her twin blades flashing like twin meteors.

  Steel met tail.

  Saya blocked her first strike with the tip of a tail, her claws clashing with the second in a sharp shower of sparks.

  “You’re different,” Saya mused mid-combat. “You have more bite than the others.”

  Yuri pressed in, slicing low—just as Greg charged from the right.

  Saya twisted between them.

  **Her tails lashed—**one shoved Greg back, the other curled beneath Yuri’s strike, catching her wrist mid-swing. She slashed upward, scoring Yuri’s forearm, forcing her to retreat with a hiss of pain.

  Seven knelt behind cover, the Nameless Wing across his lap.

  He tried to lift it.

  Too heavy. Not yet.

  Blood ran freely down his side, soaking his jacket.

  “Buy me time…” he muttered, picking up his M4 again, breath ragged.

  Chris ducked behind a shattered stone pillar, trembling. Jasmine stayed low beside Seven, hand glowing with weak healing mana.

  Saya crouched now on a high branch, tails twitching.

  She stared down at them—not with malice, but fascination.

  “You all fight like you’ve survived,” she said softly, “but you haven’t lived in this world yet…”

  Her claws flexed.

  “Don’t worry.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  She dropped.

  A blur of death.

  And just before her claw could pierce again—

  Chris moved.

  His eyes flashed—sigils spiraling from his fingertips.

  A swirling portal opened beneath Jasmine and Seven, swallowing them in a flash of shimmering light.

  Saya landed, claws sinking into snow—missing them by inches.

  She blinked.

  Paused.

  Then slowly stood upright, tilting her head.

  Her smile deepened—hungry.

  “Well well…”

  Her eyes locked onto Chris.

  “A real morsel.”

  Her next step forward was slow, deliberate.

  “I think… you might just satisfy me.”