The night was quiet.
Too quiet.
Jin moved through the alleys of the city like a shadow. His steps were silent, his presence suffocating. Ever since his evolution, every movement felt sharper, heavier with intent. The darkness itself seemed to bend toward him, as if obeying an unseen master.
He already knew where his prey would be.
Information had been gathered, whispers pried from trembling lips. Every thread pointed to the same place—a warehouse near the docks, one of the many dens where the Fire Dragons conducted their business.
And tonight, it would burn.
From the rooftop, Jin crouched, his gray eyes fixed on the building below. Guards lingered outside, armed and restless. The symbol etched onto their jackets was unmistakable: a dragon coiled in crimson flame.
Jin's expression didn't change, but inside, the memory of blood and screams surged back. His wife's lifeless body. His daughter's final cry. His grip tightened, the black flames flickering faintly along his hand.
"They're here," he muttered under his breath. "And so am I."
The shadows around him stirred, stretching unnaturally, slithering down the walls like living creatures.
One of the guards yawned, leaning lazily on his rifle. Then his eyes widened, confusion setting in as his shadow… moved.
Before he could react, the darkness coiled around his neck. A sickening crack echoed into the night.
The others didn't even notice until it was too late. One by one, they vanished into the void, dragged screaming into Jin's abyss. No alarms were raised. No shots were fired. Only silence.
When the last guard fell, Jin walked forward calmly, the warehouse looming before him.
Inside, the air reeked of smoke and sweat. Men laughed, drank, counted money on the table. They were relaxed—unaware of the storm that had already entered their den.
Jin stepped into the room, his coat swaying with the faint breeze from the open door.
Conversations stopped. Heads turned. The laughter died.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then one of them barked, "Who the hell are you?"
Jin's voice was cold, steady, dripping with venom.
"I'm the shadow you tried to erase. The price for the blood you spilled."
Recognition flickered in their eyes. Whispers spread.
"Jin… It's him. The one who's been hunting us."
Chaos erupted. Guns were raised, spells were cast, shouts filled the air. But Jin was already moving.
Black tendrils shot out from his shadow, piercing the floor, walls, and men alike. The warehouse became a slaughterhouse in seconds. Screams echoed, cut short by bone-shattering impacts and the hiss of black flames devouring flesh.
One man crawled away, clutching his bleeding leg. Desperation filled his eyes as he looked up at Jin towering over him.
"Please—! I don't know anything! Spare me!"
Jin's gaze was empty, merciless.
"Then you're useless to me."
The man vanished into darkness, his body consumed.
Blood stained the floor. The stench of death suffocated the air. Yet Jin felt nothing—no remorse, no hesitation. Only the burning hunger for the truth.
And then… amidst the carnage, he found what he wanted.
A survivor.
A trembling man with a dragon tattoo across his forearm.
Jin grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand.
"Where are the Fire Dragons' leaders?" Jin demanded, his voice like steel.
The man struggled, choking, eyes bulging. "I… I don't know! I only take orders!"
Jin's grip tightened. Shadows coiled around the man's body, pressing into his flesh like blades.
"You'll tell me," Jin whispered. "One way or another."
The man's screams filled the night.
Outside, the city continued to breathe, unaware that inside that warehouse, vengeance was carving its mark into the world.