The city lights flickered as Jin moved through the crowded streets.
His mind was consumed by one thought alone—the Fire Dragons.
He had followed the whispers, the rumors, the faintest trails of blood and smoke. And tonight, it led him here.
Inside a noisy guild tavern, hunters laughed, drank, and argued. Jin's sharp eyes scanned the room.
Then he saw it.
A man stirring trouble in the corner, his fists slamming against the table.
On his wrist—burned into his skin—was a tattoo.
A dragon.
Jin's eyes widened, his chest tightening with rage.
Without hesitation, he moved.
The man sensed the killing intent and twisted away as Jin lunged.
Chairs crashed, voices erupted in panic.
The man glared at him, pulling back his hood.
"…What the hell do you want?"
Jin's voice was calm, but beneath it was a storm.
"Information."
The man smirked, his eyes cold. "Information costs blood."
The tavern fell silent.
Every hunter in the room felt the pressure leaking from Jin's presence. His darkness stirred like a shadow ready to devour.