Rain pattered against the rusted tin roof of the rundown dormitory as Tyro Virein tightened the straps of his worn-out satchel. His fingers trembling—from exhaustion. Three jobs in two days, and he was still short on credits for Lina's medication.
"Tyro," came a soft voice from behind the curtain that separated their sleeping area.
He turned. Lina peeked her head through, pale and tired, a faint smile on her lips. "You're going out again?"
He nodded, forcing a grin. "Yeah. Just another porter job. I'll be back before dark."
"You said that yesterday." Her voice cracked. "You came back with bruises. Again."
"Don't worry about it." He grabbed his coat. "I've got a new team today. They're Silver-tier. Better pay. Safer too."
She stared at him in silence before retreating back behind the curtain. "Be safe."
---
The meeting point was behind a decrepit warehouse at the city's edge. Tyro spotted them easily: five Silver-ranked Hunters, all wearing polished armor and bearing weapons.
"This the porter?" one of them scoffed.
"Yeah," said Arven, the team leader. "He's cheap. Doesn't ask questions."
Tyro kept his head down. "I brought everything you asked for. Tools, supplies, emergency seals—"
"Shut it. Just follow orders and stay out of the way," barked a tall woman with red tattoos on her neck. "You slow us down, we leave you. Got it?"
Tyro nodded.
They moved through the outer secured gates with fake permits. The place was unnatural—time seemed to slow, the air was thick with uneasy pressure.
"This Place is classified as collapsed," whispered Tyro. "That means it's unstable—"
"We know," Arven replied, unsheathing his blade. "That's why the loot's worth the risk. Stay quiet."
As they descended into the depths of the Place, Tyro noticed—shadows clinging to the walls like they were alive. Whispers crept into his ears.
Then the screaming began.
One by one, the team members vanished into the darkness, devoured by something unseen. Tyro turned to run—only to be kicked into a pit by Arven himself.
"Bait's done his job," Arven muttered before disappearing.
His bones broken and bleeding, Tyro laid in the darkness.
And the darkness began to burn.
It wasn't cold, nor was shadow. It was rage—pure, suffocating rage. His muscles seized, his skin scorched from within. He Heard a voice—not whispering—but growling.
"Do you want them to fall?. Do you want them to cower as they face their demise? Then, SCREAM!!."
Tyro screamed.
And something inside him snapped.