The night had grown thick, a velvet darkness covering the city like a shroud. Rayon's recruits had just finished drills, moving like shadows under his watchful gaze. Hollow Strings twitched faintly at his fingertips, alerting him to every heartbeat, every movement in the streets below.
Something had changed. The air was heavier. Not just tension—predation.
From the darkness, he emerged. Towering, armored, eyes glinting like steel through a narrow slit in his mask. The city seemed to quiet in anticipation, as if holding its breath.
Kaelen—the Hunter Rayon had heard whispers of—had arrived. One of the elite, a hunter of Forsakens whose reputation alone could unnerve the bravest.
"You've grown bold," Kaelen said, voice low, lethal. "This city doesn't belong to gutter-born street rats."
Rayon's hollow eyes glinted. "The city doesn't belong to anyone. But I can bend it—and you just stepped into my strings."
Kaelen's gaze flicked over the recruits. "I've heard whispers… you've gathered allies. Doesn't matter. I'm here for you."
Rayon smirked. "Good. Let's see how good you really are."
Kaelen struck first, lightning-fast, a blur of steel slicing toward Rayon. Hollow Strings reacted instantly, guiding Rayon's movements with preternatural precision. He didn't just dodge—he danced through the strike, countering with elbows and kicks that split bone and shattered defenses.
Drevan and Draven jumped into the fray, fists and feet colliding with armored limbs, pulling off coordinated maneuvers guided subtly by Rayon's strings. Selene flitted through shadows, striking from unexpected angles, exploiting every opening.
Kaelen was more than strength—he was a predator of perception. Every strike tested their coordination, every movement challenged their reflexes. But Rayon's strings acted like a silent conductor, weaving his recruits' attacks together, predicting Kaelen's patterns, nudging him into missteps without letting the Hunter realize it.
The fight became cinematic, brutal, and precise. Rayon moved like a storm, every punch, kick, and string-guided movement flowing into the next. Kaelen countered with equal precision, steel flashing, armor cracking, muscles straining.
Draven smashed a stone pillar to block a deadly slash, Drevan rammed two attackers into the walls, and Selene's blades whispered through the air, leaving shallow, cutting strikes that forced Kaelen back temporarily.
Rayon's hollow eyes narrowed, strings lashing like living shadows. He pulled, nudged, and manipulated, bending the battlefield to his favor. Each strike Kaelen threw was anticipated, each attack countered—not by brute strength alone, but by foresight, perception, and control.
The alley was a wreck. Broken stone, blood, and metal littered the ground. Kaelen breathed hard, every move deliberate, every strike calculating. Rayon's recruits were bruised but alive, coordinated, and stronger under his guidance.
Kaelen stepped back, scanning Rayon's hollow eyes. "You… you are not ordinary. Forsaken or not, you are dangerous."
Rayon's smirk widened. "Dangerous enough to bend this city—but I've only just begun."
Kaelen's eyes glinted with something like respect—and warning. "I'll return. Next time, I won't hold back. You'll die, gutter-born."
Rayon's Hollow Strings twitched, faint but sharp. "I'll be waiting."