(Kisaya POV)
The wind bit against my face. Dry, cold, and wrong. Not the kind of chill that came from the air, but the kind that crept into your spine when danger was near. The silence didn't help.
There were eleven of us. The mercenaries were already in position—spread wide, almost two kilometers out. Too far to see now. Darek stayed close.
The tomb wasn't far. We couldn't see it yet, but we were getting close. I stayed on the center path, keeping pace and scanning ahead with each step.
The terrain didn't make things easy. There was enough visibility to see movement at a distance, but not enough to feel secure.
Darek didn't speak. He just kept working—runes drawn mid-stride. With the area expansion technique, the rune was far more complex than usual. If he was going to cast it while walking, he had to keep his focus completely locked in.
I glanced at his spiritual energy. Orange-gold light flared with every stroke. Papsukkal's mark—the god of messengers and hidden paths.
Activate. Observe. Deactivate. Change target.
He cycled through each group one by one—quick, focused, efficient.
For someone so irresponsible most of the time, he had moments like this—quietly doing exactly what was needed.
The agreement was simple: no signals meant no change. We advanced slowly. Darek scanned the edges. I watched the center. If anything moved where it shouldn't, we'd know.
Time hit the one-hour mark. As planned, we stopped. The outer teams made their way toward us.
The one with the scar at the corner of his mouth, from the right flank, spoke first.
"Not a single animal out there."
Someone else echoed it. "Same on our side. No movement. Nothing."
I looked at each of them. "Aside from the silence, anything else?"
They exchanged glances. One shrugged. Another shifted uncomfortably.
"Too quiet" one muttered. "Feels wrong."
A few of them kept glancing toward the perimeter. Their hands stayed near their weapons. No panic, yet, but the tension was rising. I could feel it.
"Good" I said. "Second round. Move."
They didn't argue.
We spread out again. Not long after, I saw it—something off in the distance.
I signaled. We moved.
It was a fox. Small, curled unnaturally in the grass. Two deep punctures in the neck. No blood around the body. No signs of a struggle.
I crouched beside it. The skin around the wound was smooth, unbroken except for the holes. Precise. Clean. Just like all the other victims.
I stood up. This wasn't random.
We kept going.
Then a boar.
Then a gazelle.
Each one drained. Precise punctures. Neck or chest.
It was feeding. Constantly.
I looked up. Twilight had faded. The sky had turned black, but the moon hung full and swollen. Bright enough to see without flame. Bright enough to be seen.
We met back in the center.
Everyone was alert now—too alert.
The one with the scar at the corner of his mouth spoke again. "At least now we know why there's no wildlife."
"It's feeding" I said flatly. "On anything with blood."
A moment passed. Then another voice, uncertain. "This doesn't feel right. It's just animals—all of them already dead. Maybe we're wasting our time."
Someone else followed. "We should regroup. Try again tomorrow."
The words lingered in the air. No one pressed the idea, but I felt it in their silence.
They were scared.
"No" I said. "Two more hours. Then we rest."
A few of them exchanged glances, but no one spoke up.
I reached for the ring again. It was just a habit now, but the metal felt warmer than usual. Or maybe it was just me.
Something was wrong.
But we were already here. And I didn't come to wait.
I came to find it.
Time passed. No movement. No change.
Until Darek's hand hovered over the rune—but didn't move.
That was the first sign.
I saw his body stiffen. Eyes narrowing. Breathing shallow.
"Report" I said.
He didn't look at me. Just frowned.
"I can't connect to the right flank" he said. "That can only mean one thing: unconscious... or—"
I didn't wait. Reached for my spear. Ready.
I gathered my spiritual energy and focused it on my legs. They tensed immediately, and a steady violet glow formed around my calves and thighs.
Then I launched.
The earth shuddered under the force. I shot forward—over rocks, dips, roots. The terrain blurred beneath me.
I didn't think. I moved.
I reached the location in seconds.
One of the mercenaries was on the ground, completely motionless. His face was drained of color.
He was dead.
The other was upright, sword in hand—but frozen. Shaking. Paralyzed by something I hadn't seen yet.
"Run!" I shouted.
Then I saw it.
He was still biting the neck of the remaining mercenary. Still feeding. The man hung limp in his arms. When the creature let go, the body hit the ground like it no longer mattered.
He looked up.
No movement. No sound. Just him—watching.
Blood dried down his chest and arms. Claws wet at the tips. Long black hair hung like a veil, parted only by two burning red eyes—alive, focused, inhuman.
He was hunched. Strong. Athletic. Every inch coiled with potential violence.
And, something that shouldn't exist.
Spiritual energy—visible, real—rising from his body in waves.
I couldn't move.
That shouldn't happen. It wasn't possible. And yet, there it was—undeniable. A deep, dark red, like dried blood stirred awake. It pulsed with each breath, wrapped around him like something living.
Finally, the mercenary moved. He turned and tried to run, legs trembling.
The creature noticed it—and went after him. Faster than I expected.
Silent.
But I could follow him.
I moved.
The creature's momentum was brutal—but I met it head-on. My feet slid across the dirt from the force, but I stayed grounded. Spear raised. Steel met claw with a crack of power that echoed through my arm.
He didn't flinch. Neither did I.
The impact vibrated down my arm. The strength—unnatural.
His hair shifted with the force.
I saw the stained claws.
The jaw.
But then—the cheekbones.
The nose.
And the eyes.
Burning red. But not foreign.
Familiar.
I froze.
My voice escaped before I could stop it.
"...Eresh?"
Title: Eresh?