Chapter 3: The First Hunt

Chapter 3: The First Hunt

The black sedan moved through the rain-swept streets of Bastion City with the silent, predatory grace of a shark. Inside, the only sounds were the rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers and the low hum of an engine that was too quiet to be standard. Kai sat rigidly in the passenger seat, the scent of expensive leather and gun oil filling his nostrils. The forced proximity to Catharine Wen was suffocating; she drove with an unnerving economy of motion, her focus absolute.

“Your ‘test’ begins now,” she said, not taking her eyes off the road. “Simon’s death left a deep wound in the fabric of this city. Not emotionally,” she added, as if preempting a sentimental objection, “but energetically. A violent, unnatural death releases a specific frequency of arcane resonance. It’s like ringing a dinner bell in the dark.”

“A dinner bell for what?” Kai asked, his hand instinctively going to the faint, silvery scar on his other. It was tingling again, a low-level hum of anticipation.

“Scavengers. Parasites. The rats and cockroaches of the supernatural world. Most are harmless, but some can be… problematic. Tonight’s problem is a Grave Moth.”

Kai, the folklore student, felt a flicker of academic interest before the reality of the situation extinguished it. “I’ve read about them. They’re supposed to be psychopomps, guides for lost souls.”

“A romantic notion,” Catharine countered flatly. “In reality, they’re necrophages. They feed on the residual energy of the dead, specifically those who die in terror or violence. The one drawn to Simon’s murder will be engorged, powerful. And aggressive.” She glanced at him, her dark eyes holding his for a moment. “Your job is to be my bloodhound. That sight of yours can track the trail of decay it leaves. My job is to handle the extermination. Do not get in my way. Do not try to be a hero. You are a tool. Understand?”

“Loud and clear,” Kai muttered, his stomach twisting into a knot of fear and resentment. He was a tool to be used, and then, he suspected, discarded.

She pulled the car to a stop in a derelict industrial zone bordering the city’s ancient canal system. The rain had eased to a persistent drizzle, casting a greasy sheen over the crumbling brickwork and rusted chain-link fences. A gaping maw in the side of the canal embankment, barred by a collapsed iron gate, led into darkness.

“It’s down there,” she said, cutting the engine. “The old service tunnels for the first subway line. A perfect breeding ground for things that shun the light.”

Kai felt a fresh wave of dread. “How do you know?”

“Because that’s where the trail you’re about to find will lead.” She produced two items from the glove compartment. One was a slim, powerful-looking flashlight. The other was a gun. It was sleek and black, but the metal seemed to absorb the light in a strange way, and faint, silver-blue lines were etched into the slide and grip. It looked less like a weapon and more like a surgical instrument for a purpose he didn’t want to imagine.

“Stay close. And focus,” she ordered, chambering a round with a terrifyingly smooth click-clack.

Kai took a deep breath and stepped out into the damp air. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the thrumming in his hand. He pushed past the mundane sensory input—the smell of wet concrete and decay, the distant sound of a train—and let the Echo Sight take over.

The world bloomed.

The air itself was alive with shimmering threads of old energy, but there was one trail that stood out. It was a greasy, gut-wrenching smear of malevolence, a shimmering ribbon of putrescence that pulsed with a sickly violet light. It clung to the air like smoke, leading directly from the street and through the mangled bars of the tunnel entrance. The trail was littered with faint, fleeting images: the terror of a cornered stray cat, the final moments of a rat, all consumed and absorbed by the passing entity.

“It’s here,” Kai said, his voice hoarse. “The trail is strong. It went right down that tunnel.”

Catharine simply nodded, the beam of her flashlight cutting a sharp cone into the oppressive darkness. “Lead the way, Mr. Vance.”

The tunnel was a claustrophobic nightmare of dripping water and scurrying, unseen things. Kai kept his focus locked on the violet trail, which was becoming brighter, more vibrant with every step. The air grew colder, and a soft, chittering sound echoed from the darkness ahead. His Echo Sight was screaming now, the energy so thick it felt like wading through oil.

They rounded a bend and the tunnel opened into a larger chamber where several passages converged. In the center of the chamber, clinging to the vaulted, slime-coated ceiling, was the source of the trail.

It was the size of a large dog, with tattered, moth-like wings that looked like they were woven from cemetery shrouds and human hair. Its body was a swollen, pulsating sac of the same sickly violet energy it left in its wake, and six spindly, insectoid legs tipped with razor-sharp hooks dug into the stone. But the worst part was its head. It had no face of its own, only a swirling, chaotic mass of vaporous light. And from within that light, distorted, ghostly faces flickered and vanished—the faces of its victims.

The Grave Moth unfurled its wings, releasing a cloud of shimmering dust that smelled of grave dirt and ozone. As it did, one of the faces in its head solidified for a terrifying second. It was Simon Zhou, his features twisted in a silent scream.

Kai froze, a cry catching in his throat. This wasn't just a monster; it was a violation, a desecration of the man’s memory.

The creature sensed their presence. It detached from the ceiling with a wet tearing sound, dropping to the floor. It moved with an unnatural, scuttling speed, its chittering rising to an angry shriek.

“Move!” Catharine yelled, shoving Kai behind her.

Kai stumbled back, his shoulder hitting the wet tunnel wall. The world narrowed to the terrifying creature and the woman standing between him and it.

The moth lunged. Catharine didn’t flinch. She moved with a fluid, brutal efficiency that was mesmerizing. Pop. Pop. Pop. Three gunshots, shockingly loud in the enclosed space. They weren't the deafening roar of a normal firearm but sharp, contained cracks, like a whip breaking the sound barrier. Each shot was punctuated by a flash of brilliant silver-blue light.

The silver-cored, consecrated rounds, as Kai would later learn they were called, slammed into the creature’s pulsating body. They didn't just punch through; they detonated with bursts of pure, searing energy. The moth shrieked, a sound that tore at the edges of sanity, and thrashed wildly, gouging deep furrows in the concrete floor with its hooked legs.

It was wounded, but not dead. Ignoring Catharine, it fixed its swirling, faceless gaze on Kai. It saw the light of his Echo Sight, the raw, untapped energy he radiated. It saw a feast.

It reared up and spat a glob of viscous, violet energy. Catharine tackled Kai, sending them both sprawling onto the grimy floor as the projectile hit the wall where his head had been. The brick sizzled and dissolved into a black, bubbling sludge.

Before the creature could attack again, Catharine was back on one knee, her aim steady. Pop. A fourth shot, perfectly placed, struck the creature directly in its shifting, faceless head.

The shriek cut off. The violet light that composed the creature’s body flickered violently, then imploded, washing the chamber in a wave of cold static. The energy it had consumed, its last meal, was released in a chaotic, visible wave.

And Kai, lying on the floor with his hand outstretched, was at the epicenter.

His Echo Sight flared, and the chamber, Catharine, and the dying moth all vanished. He was somewhere else. He was in Simon’s shop. The air tasted of ozone and accelerants. A man stood over Simon’s body. Kai couldn't see his face, only his arm, raised in triumph. A hand, clad in a black tactical glove. And on the back of that glove, seared into the leather like a brand, was a sigil: a wine barrel, tilted on its side, with a single, thick drop of blood leaking from its tap.

The vision shattered. Kai gasped, back in the tunnel, the acrid smell of burnt ozone and dead monster filling the air. The Grave Moth was a pile of desiccated grey dust, rapidly dissolving.

Catharine was already on her feet, reloading her weapon with practiced efficiency. She glanced down at him, her expression unreadable. “Report. Did you see anything useful, or did you just have a panic attack?”

Kai pushed himself up, his entire body trembling from the adrenaline and the raw power of the vision. The lethal reality of this world had been seared into his brain. This wasn't a research paper. This was life and a very brutal death.

He looked at her, the image from his vision burned into his mind’s eye.

“I saw him,” Kai whispered, his voice trembling but clear. “The killer. In the moth’s… memory. He had an insignia on his glove.” He met her cold, calculating gaze. “It was the bleeding barrel.”