Alexandre drew in a ragged breath, the searing, smoky air wrapping around him like a shroud. Below him, the city of Sesia—once a jewel of the continent of Etora—now lay in a smoldering ruin, a haunting echo of its former glory. Flames flickered in the shadows, casting eerie silhouettes against the backdrop of devastation, all of it caused by the colossal daemon that prowled toward the city's heart like a dark storm threatening to swallow everything in its path.

  With each deliberate step, he moved through the charred remnants of what had once been vibrant buildings, now mere husks of their former selves. The streets were a graveyard of memories, and he embraced the silence, hoping to remain unnoticed by the monstrous figure looming above. They had yet to discover the full extent of this daemon’s powers, and he couldn't risk drawing its attention.

  His heart raced as he navigated the maze of destruction, his mind racing with thoughts of escape. In his current condition, a direct confrontation was unthinkable; he was merely a flickering candle in the presence of a raging inferno. The humans, in their panic, were no allies against such an unimaginable threat. As he slipped deeper into the shadows, Alexandre felt the weight of the city’s fate on his shoulders, a chilling reminder that hope was as fragile as the ashes swirling around him.

  He tried to stay alert, but his thoughts drifted back to his last visit to Sesia, when the soft breeze carried the mouthwatering aromas of simmering delicacies and the rich scent of oil paint from nearby galleries. The Sesian people were infamously proud—often to a fault—but their fervor for their food, art, and women was undeniably justified. Those nights, sleepless yet vibrant, were spent indulging in the city’s many vices, each more tempting than the last.

  One memory rose to the forefront, sharp and bittersweet—a radiant young woman named Becca. Her laughter had echoed through the streets, a melody woven into the fabric of the city, and as he recalled her, a twisted grimace formed on his lips, a snarl that feline specialists might have whimsically termed a smile. She had been a beacon in the chaos, and now, in the shadow of destruction, the warmth of that memory felt like a ghost haunting him, a reminder of all that had been lost amid the ruins.

  As memories of Becca and her cozy studio flickered through his mind, a sudden movement in his peripheral vision jolted him back to reality. Instinctively, he dove behind the crumbling wreckage of a building, his heart pounding. He had heard tales of larger daemons creating smaller clones as spies—rarely, but not unheard of. It was the squad’s job to find these things out before he got here. “Stupid humans,” he fumed inwardly, “they can’t even handle something this simple.”

  Peering cautiously around the debris, he felt a rush of embarrassment as he realized the source of the shadow: a large mirror, partially intact, reflecting his formidable form from within a less-damaged shop. But something darker caught his eye—a trail of blood snaking from outside, leading deeper into the shadows of the store.

  Curiosity piqued, he stepped closer and noticed the spilled hair products scattered across the floor, a telltale sign of a beauty salon. The faint scent of floral shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of blood filled the air. It seemed the owner hadn’t abandoned ship; a half-melted torso peeked out from behind a chair, a name tag reading “Hi, I’m John” affixed to a pin that proclaimed him the owner and manager. No sign remained of whatever sinister force had dragged him inside.

  He quickly averted his gaze from the gruesome sight, a chill running down his spine as he noted the potential acidic nature of the daemon’s abilities. Instead, he focused on his reflection in the shattered mirror. He relished his current form: those piercing yellow cat eyes, a body twice the size of any normal jaguar, and dagger-like teeth that gleamed menacingly. Four twenty-inch horns spiraled from his head, two at the front and two at the back, making him a terrifying sight to behold.

  Turning away from the mirror, he began to stalk toward the source of danger, relieved that Liam wasn’t there to witness his earlier fright. The memory would haunt him; he had once fought daemons the size of cities with ease, yet now he found himself jumpy, terrified of his own shadow. “This is all her fault,” he growled through clenched teeth, frustration surging within him. If only she hadn’t gone missing, he wouldn’t be caught in this perilous situation, filled with uncertainty and dread.

  As he inched closer, Alexandre concentrated on estimating the daemon's boundary. Liam’s team had predicted it to encompass the entire city, and he reluctantly agreed. While it provided ample cover for him to hide, it also meant the search for the seed would be more complicated. At least Liam had ordered the evacuation of the residents—a small mercy amid the chaos.

  In missions like this, he preferred his jaguar form, relying on his acute senses to track down the seed. However, the thought of being spotted by humans was a considerable annoyance. Even worse would be the sight of him shifting forms. The last time a human witnessed his transformation, it sparked the birth of a new religion, with him revered as a deity. In the small tribes of Ewor, they still worshipped Panthera, the god of the wild. Those had been the days—feasts overflowing with food, adoration from women, and the luxury of idleness.

  But experience had taught him that revealing his true nature to humans often led to disaster. Throughout the centuries, he had shifted forms in their presence only to be hunted down, accused of witchcraft, and chased from villages. Their erratic behaviour was a constant source of frustration, driven by a logic he could never quite grasp. A groan of annoyance escaped his lips as the device around his neck began vibrating again, cutting through his thoughts. Among all the bothersome humans, this one was the most insufferable.

  “Black Cat, this is the command center. Over.” The voice crackled through the walkie-talkie strapped around his neck, irritation gnawing at him. A silver chain holding a dull emerald ring rattled with his every move, a constant reminder of his predicament. He despised the damned device—not only did it restrict his movement and choke his breathing, but it also forced him to endure Liam’s annoying voice as if he didn’t hear it enough in the course of a day.

  He shot a glance at the daemon, heart racing as he assessed whether it had noticed the sound. To his relief, the creature appeared oblivious, its grotesque back turned toward him. Ignoring Liam’s incessant calls, he broke into a run—he wasn't foolish enough to try contacting him twice in quick succession. The city center loomed ahead, and he could see the daemon more clearly now.

  The creature was far more hideous than he had anticipated, covered in slippery boils that oozed a green liquid, capable of melting anything it touched. His initial fears had been confirmed; it possessed acidic abilities. He noticed that it had no arms or legs; instead, it undulated across the ground on thousands of centipede-like appendages. This was a small relief—the more a daemon resembled a human, the smarter and stronger it tended to be, making it far more dangerous to confront.

  “Don’t make me come over there, Lexy!” Liam's voice boomed louder, slicing through the tension. Alexandre halted mid-stride, seeking refuge behind a half-collapsed building, a low growl escaping his throat. The sound built within him, a primal rumble as his body began to shift. His powerful paw morphed into human limbs, his tail shrank into his spine, and the dark fur that cloaked him receded, revealing intricate tattoos etched into the skin on his left side.

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  Under the flickering light of the nearby flames, the complex lines and nested circles of the tattoo seemed to come alive, dancing and twisting as if they were responding to an unseen rhythm. As his growling transformed into a stream of curses, his throat morphed into that of a human, the bitterness of the situation settling like ash in his mouth.

  “Shut the fuck up! Do you want me to get caught?!” Alexandre hissed, surveying the daemon with heightened caution. The creature remained blissfully unaware, its grotesque form still far enough away to pose no immediate threat. He let out a relieved sigh.

  “And I told you my name is ALEXANDRE—not Lexy, not Lex, and definitely not any stupid nickname you can think of, little Lili!” His voice dripped with irritation.

  “Stop calling me that!” Liam shot back, anger creeping into his tone.

  “You started it! What do you want?” Alexandre snapped, frustration boiling over as he tugged at the radio. He briefly considered tossing the damned device into one of the smoldering wrecks surrounding him. “I should’ve never agreed to wear this abomination. I’m tired of listening to your stupid voice.”

  “Do you think I enjoy talking to you?” Liam replied, a smug smile evident in his tone. He had made a point of choosing the most uncomfortable comm device for this mission.

  “Spit it out already! You know I’m busy trying not to get detected by this huge-ass centipede.” Alexandre glanced back at the daemon, which had inched closer to the city’s center.

  “That’s exactly why I’m calling you. Our people found the location of the seed,” Liam announced with a note of pride. For once, it seemed that other squads had actually managed to do something helpful against the daemon.

  “People? I thought everyone had evacuated.” Alexandre groaned as he continued to shift back into his human form, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on him.

  The band holding the radio around his neck constricted once more, fitting snugly against his muscular frame. “They could’ve made it a little larger, but no—this thing has to throttle me to death”, he fumed internally. Though he moved slower in human form, it was a fair trade-off for avoiding the scrutiny of onlookers witnessing his transformation.

  With a sigh, he withdrew the dull emerald ring from the chain and slid it onto his finger. For a fleeting moment, the green stone shimmered with a vibrant glow, radiating a brilliant hue that illuminated his surroundings. But just as quickly, it faded back to its usual dullness, leaving him momentarily disappointed. He tucked the chain back around his neck, the weight of the emerald a reminder of the burdens he carried—not just of the mission at hand but of the memories that haunted him as well.

  “They did. They found the seed by accident,” Liam said, his voice brimming with pride. In situations like this, the most his team could typically do was evacuate civilians and keep watch over the boundaries, waiting for nature to run its course or for Alexandre and his squad to arrive. But today, they were actively engaged in the fight against the daemon.

  “Ah, you humans and your luck! What would you do without it?” Alexandre shot back, his tone laced with mockery. Teasing Liam had become one of the few pleasures left to him in these dark times.

  “By the looks of things, you’ll find out soon enough,” Liam replied, a wince crossing his features at the words he'd just spoken. He knew the remark hit a nerve; it was a sensitive topic. As he had feared, silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

  Liam’s mind wandered to tales told by his grandfather about Alexandre—a formidable warrior once capable of battling titanic daemons with bolts of lightning that illuminated the sky. But the recent decline in daemon activity had taken its toll on him. If his search continued to yield no results, as many suggested, he risked becoming as powerless as an ordinary human. The thought hung in the air, a reminder of the precarious balance between strength and vulnerability that haunted them both.

  “Where is it?” Alexandre asked stiffly, forcing himself to overlook the sting of Liam's earlier remark and the sinking feeling it had left in his chest.

  “What?” Liam replied, taken aback by Alexandre’s brusque demeanor.

  “The seed, you moron!” Alexandre snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he pushed the embarrassment aside.

  Liam decided to let the insult slide, relieved that Alexandre didn’t seem as deeply affected by his comment as he had been in the past. Fourteen years ago, a similar quip had sent Alexandre spiraling into a dark place, isolating himself for weeks in his room, refusing to answer calls or attend missions. That memory lingered uncomfortably in the back of Liam’s mind, a reminder of how delicate their friendship could be.

  “Ah, yes. The seed was sighted on the roof of a restaurant called Beehive,” Liam continued, quickly flipping through the report he had been holding. He scanned the jumbled notes written by frightened soldiers, trying to extract useful information from their chaotic accounts. “It’s next to the Sennethon Tower, the tall one on the west side. You can’t miss it—it’s painted yellow and black like a bee, with hexagonal windows.”

  As he spoke, a sense of urgency washed over him. It was remarkable that the soldiers had managed to stay calm enough to notice the seed amidst the chaos, given that most had never faced a daemon before. Their fear had to be palpable, yet here they were, offering invaluable intelligence.

  “What kinda weird building is that?!” Alexandre asked, his curiosity piqued by Liam’s description.

  “Well, honeycombs are hexagons, so…” Liam replied, flashing a casual smile, not fully registering the magnitude of Alexandre's question. He always found it amusing how Alexandre could fixate on details that most people overlooked.

  “I meant the whole building! What do they sell, honey?” Alexandre pressed, baffled. His tone was laced with disbelief, as if the very existence of such a place defied logic.

  “Apparently, it’s a pizzeria,” Liam replied, struggling to stifle his laughter. The image of Alexandre’s confusion was amusing to him. He could almost picture the scowl on his friend’s face, more furious than puzzled, just a few miles away.

  Alexandre paused, contemplating whether to argue further about the absurdity of a pizzeria housed in a honeycomb-inspired building. He could almost hear Liam's laughter echoing in his mind. But with a deep sigh, he chose to let it go; there was no point in getting worked up over trivialities, especially when time was of the essence.

  “Alright, a pizzeria it is,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Let’s just hope it’s not crawling with those damn centipede appendages when we get there.”

  He scanned the horizon for the tower Liam had mentioned. To his relief, the structure still stood tall, as if making a valiant last stand against the approaching monster on behalf of the town. “I need to find her soon,” he thought, a surge of anxiety gripping him. He quickly stretched his limbs, mentally preparing for the sprint ahead.

  “And Alexandre?” Liam’s sudden call made him swear under his breath, halting him mid-sprint.

  “What is it now?” he snapped, frustration bubbling over as he yanked on the band around his neck one more time.

  “Don’t forget to put on some clothes,” Liam said, laughter bubbling in his voice. Alexandre glanced down at his bare body, realization hitting him like a cold wave. Between the rising anxiety and the looming threat of the daemon, he had become a bit of a scatterbrain. Embarrassed for overlooking something so basic, he touched the dull emerald ring on his finger, focusing on the clothes he had stashed inside.

  In an instant, a simple black T-shirt, army trousers, and a sleek black katana materialized at his feet. After hastily dressing and fastening the katana to his back, he ripped the radio off his neck, tossing it into one of the burning buildings. The satisfying crackle of the fire consumed it, and with that, he launched himself toward the tower.

  This was all her fault. If she hadn’t gone missing for so long, he wouldn’t be in this mess. All he needed was to find her, to make her break this stupid pledge of his. Then he could retire to one of the warm, inviting islands southwest of Vatia, spending his remaining days basking in the sun, enjoying the beach life like those retirees on television.

  But first things first—it was hunt time, and he was starving.