The first knife came low. Reiner barely twisted in time, the blade skimming past his ribs instead of sinking into them. He grabbed the bastard’s wrist, twisting sharply—bone cracked, the man screamed, but another attacker was already moving in.

  Too many.

  His breath came ragged, his bad leg protesting with every shift. His body wasn’t what it used to be—his injuries had seen to that. He could still fight, still kill, but these weren’t street thugs. Predator-ranked killers. Halvark’s enforcers.

  A boot slammed into his gut, sending him crashing against the tavern wall. The whole damn building shook. Pain lanced up his side, something pulling at an old wound.

  “Stubborn old man,” one of them sneered. A broad-shouldered bastard with a serrated longsword. “Thought you’d be smarter than this.”

  Reiner spat blood onto the floor. “Smarter than what? Licking Halvark’s boots?”

  The room was wrecked—chairs splintered, tables overturned. The bartender had fled. Most of the regulars too. But the Halvark men had taken their time, waiting for Jarek.

  Waiting to catch him when he came crawling back.

  The leader stepped forward. Tall, lean, and sharp-eyed. His armor was lightweight, built for movement—a real hunter. He glanced at Reiner’s leg, then at his bleeding knuckles. Smirked.

  “You’re washed up,” he said. “Should’ve taken our offer.”

  Reiner barked a laugh. “Go to hell.”

  The leader tilted his head. Then nodded.

  The enforcer with the longsword stepped forward, gripping the hilt with both hands. “Alright. Let’s take a few fingers—”

  the sound of a thunderclap split the room apart.

  Not just noise—pressure. A sudden weight in the air, like the storm itself had descended on them. The lamps flickered, the wooden beams groaned, dust shaking loose from the rafters.

  And then—

  The doors exploded inward.

  A gust of wind rushed in, carrying the scent of charred stone and burnt ozone.

  And standing in the doorway—was Jarek.

  He wasn’t limping. He wasn’t struggling. He stood tall, his coat rippling, his sword crackling with violet arcs of energy.

  His sharp eyes locked onto Reiner. Took in the scene. Registered everything.

  Then, slowly, he looked at them.

  The room was silent.

  Then the leader exhaled sharply through his nose. “Well, well.” He spread his arms wide. “The Zero himself.”

  Laughter rippled through the enforcers.

  “You look good for a dead man,” the longsword enforcer taunted. “Gotta admit, I was starting to wonder who killed our assassin.”

  The leader’s smirk widened. “But it wasn’t you, was it?” He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with something like amusement. “No way in hell a Zero could’ve killed a Predator.”

  More laughter.

  Jarek didn’t react.

  Didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t move.

  The leader’s smirk faltered just a little. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  Still—nothing.

  Jarek exhaled.

  The air trembled.

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  Lightning detonated.

  A violet flash lit the room like a storm crashing into the world. Thunder ripped through the walls—not sound, but force, a pressure so violent it made the very air shudder.

  Jarek moved.

  One moment, he was at the door.

  The next—he was among them.

  The first enforcer barely had time to flinch before Jarek’s sword tore through his throat. The blade sliced clean, purple lightning dancing along the steel, leaving a smoking wound in its wake. The man collapsed, dead before his body even realized it.

  The second enforcer cursed, staggering back, his longsword lifting in defense—too slow.

  Jarek was already there.

  Predator’s Instinct flared in his mind.

  The world stretched.

  Every movement. Every heartbeat. Every mistake.

  Jarek saw them all.

  His foot slammed into the next enforcer’s knee.

  Crack.

  A scream, raw and guttural—then Jarek was already gone. His lightning blurred, flickering through the mist like a phantom.

  The screaming man barely hit the ground before Jarek’s blade found another.

  A sword through the chest.

  A throat cut so fast, the blood didn’t even have time to spill before the body dropped.

  They had underestimated him.

  They had thought he was still the same man who had barely survived Halvark’s first assassin.

  They were wrong.

  The longsword enforcer swung in a panic, teeth bared in desperation—

  Jarek didn’t dodge. He tilted his body, the attack slipping past him like the air itself bent to avoid him.

  The enforcer’s eyes widened.

  Jarek’s sword was already buried in his gut.

  He gasped. Staggered.

  Jarek twisted the blade.

  Ripped it free.

  The enforcer folded in on himself, a wet, gurgling noise escaping his throat as his knees hit the floor.

  Jarek didn’t even watch him fall.

  The remaining enforcers froze.

  Their breath came fast, ragged. Terror leaked into their eyes.

  Jarek turned his head, slowly.

  His sword still dripped.

  Lightning still hummed.

  Only two were left.

  The leader.

  And a younger man—one who was already shaking.

  Jarek took a slow step forward.

  The younger enforcer’s breath hitched. Panic.

  He turned to run.

  Thunderclap.

  Jarek vanished.

  A single step sent him forward at impossible speed.

  The enforcer didn’t even see him.

  By the time he realized—

  A clean slice.

  He collapsed.

  Only the leader remained.

  Silence.

  Jarek exhaled, the air still charged with his presence. The leader stood stiff, his hands twitching near his weapon.

  Jarek tilted his head.

  "Where’s the confidence?"

  The leader’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed. His stance shifted—

  Jarek’s blade was already at his throat.

  The enforcer froze.

  For the first time—Jarek smiled.

  "What’s wrong?" His voice was quiet. "You were talking so much earlier."

  The leader swallowed. His breath hitched. But even in the face of death, his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite fear.

  “You think this is over?” His voice was hoarse, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. “You think Predators, Apexes, even Sovereigns are the strongest things in this world?”

  Jarek’s eyes narrowed.

  The leader grinned.

  “You have no idea what’s coming.”

  Jarek didn’t blink.

  “You won’t escape Halvark,” the enforcer rasped. “Not forever.”

  Jarek’s blade flicked.

  A clean, final cut.

  No hesitation.

  No words.

  Just steel, lightning, and silence.

  The body hit the floor.

  Jarek let out a slow breath. His heart was steady. His body was calm.

  It wasn’t even a fight.

  Jarek barely registered the notification flashing across his mind.

  Instead—his eyes flicked to the blood pooling beneath him.

  So much of it. Dark. Fresh. A sea of crimson seeping through the cracked wooden floorboards.

  It wasn’t just his last kill. All of them. The blood of the enforcers had run together, merging into a single glistening mass.

  And then—it moved.

  Jarek felt it before he saw it.

  The hunger stirred.

  A slow ripple ran through the blood, the surface shivering, as if something inside was pulling it down. The crimson sheen darkened, thick tendrils stretching toward his boots, like ink bleeding into water—

  Then it rushed toward him.

  Jarek exhaled sharply as his body drank it in.

  The sensation was instant.

  A pulse. A flood of raw heat ripping through his veins, sinking into his muscles, his bones, his mind.

  His skin absorbed it, the liquid vanishing the moment it touched him. No stains. No mess. Just a rush of power seeping into the core of him.

  And it felt different.

  [GENETIC INTEGRATION COMPLETE.]

  New Skill Progression – Predator’s Instinct (Phase Two)

  Enhanced Reaction Time Against Humanoid Opponents

  Further Improved Movement Anticipation

  Increased Tactical Awareness

  Jarek’s vision flickered. For a single heartbeat, the entire room expanded in his perception—every detail sharper, every angle clearer.

  Reiner. His posture. His breath. The micro-twitch of his fingers.

  He could read it all.

  The way a hunter would read prey.

  Jarek’s fingers flexed at his sides.

  Why was this happening with humans?

  Jarek exhaled slowly, his head tilting, as the question settled deep in his bones.

  He didn’t have the answer.

  Not yet.

  But he would.

  The room was dead silent.

  Reiner hadn’t moved.

  Jarek turned toward him—and saw the way the old hunter was staring.

  Not shock. Not disbelief. Something quieter. Heavier.

  Reiner’s breathing was still uneven. His fists still clenched. His body was holding tension like a coiled spring, ready for a fight that was already over.

  Jarek met his gaze. “You alright?”

  Reiner didn’t answer right away.

  His eyes flicked from the bodies, to Jarek, to the spot where the blood had been.

  His throat worked once. Then again.

  Finally, he huffed a breath. “You tell me, kid.”

  A beat.

  Then—he barked out a laugh.

  Not forced. Not hollow.

  A real, disbelieving laugh.

  “Hell.” Reiner muttered, running a hand down his face. “I thought you were a dead man walking.”

  Jarek wiped the blood from his blade.

  His eyes flickered.

  “So did they.”