"Argy, get down!"
The voice—urgent, commanding, familiar.
Before I could react, something slammed into me from the side, knocking the air from my lungs and sending me crashing to the ground.
My ears rang. Dust filled my throat. And then—
"Open your eyes, Argy."
This time the voice was softer. Gentle. Like a breeze after a storm.
I opened them, slowly.
And what I saw stole the breath from my chest all over again.
Her.
Ebony brown skin glowing under the fractured sunlight. Long, dark hair cascading down in elegant waves. And those eyes—those pale green eyes that had once held my entire world inside them.
Gaia.
My love.
My ghost.
The woman I thought I'd never see again.
But how?
What was I even saying?
I didn't care.
All reason drowned beneath the surge of emotion crashing through me.
My hand moved on instinct, brushing gently behind her ear, fingers tangling in the strands of her hair.
She blinked, surprised—then blushed. That same warm flush I remembered.
"Are you okay?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I tried to speak. I really did.
But all I could do was nod, throat tight, tears welling behind my eyes.
She leaned in, and for a heartbeat, the world faded—the war, the chaos, the blood.
All I felt was her breath against my lips.
Soft. Familiar. Real.
She was here. She was alive.
And then—
"You two lovebirds might want to save that for later."
A third voice cut through the moment. Familiar, dry, and laced with sarcasm.
Gaia sighed and pulled back, her expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
I turned toward the source.
Aman.
Dust-covered, bleeding at the brow, his eyes judging.
"You know you didn't have to ruin the mood, brother," Gaia said, brushing the dirt off her armor with a scowl.
"Oh really?" Aman replied, voice laced with mockery. "Maybe I should let you two roll around in the rubble while barbarians are trying to take our heads?"
Gaia sighed, exasperated, then dropped her head in quiet defeat.
Typical Aman.
But he wasn't wrong.
She turned back to me, her expression softening. That smile again… the one that once made me forget the battlefield entirely.
"We'll continue this later," she said, tapping a knuckle lightly against my armor—more of a promise than a gesture.
She rose and extended her hand to me.
For a moment, I just stared. The world slowed. Gaia—alive, real, and here. After everything. Fighting beside me again.
Finally, I reached out and took her hand.
Her grip—solid. Familiar.
She pulled me to my feet with ease.
But no sooner had I stood than the warmth of the moment bled away. In its place—distant screams, clashing steel, the acrid scent of smoke choking the air.
For Nuxia.
The barbarians screamed in the distance as they charged toward us.
Ten. No—twenty of them.
Armed with rusted swords, cracked maces, their bodies painted in ash and filth. Bloodlust in their eyes.
Gaia took a step back beside me, her voice calm but edged with tension.
"That's… a lot of them."
But I wasn't afraid. No, fear didn't even register.
Something inside me stirred—deep, primal.
Without a word, I stepped forward. Into the open.
I hadn't felt like this in years.
My body moved with ease, weightless. Strength surged through me like lightning racing up from the soles of my feet to the center of my chest.
I bent low.
The stance came naturally, as if my muscles remembered what my mind had long tried to forget.
They used to call me the Beast. I never truly understood why.
But now—returning to this forgotten posture—I did.
I felt it.
I wasn't a soldier. I wasn't a knight.
I was a predator.
And they were prey.
The first barbarian roared, charging blindly with his mace raised high.
Too slow.
I launched forward. Legs exploding with power. The ground beneath me cracked and splintered, unable to withstand the force.
In a blink, I was on him.
The hunt had begun.
I dropped even lower—just beneath his line of sight.
Fists clenched.
Every muscle in my body coiled, gathering strength from the ground up. My feet rooted into the earth like anchors.
Then—
Like a crashing wave, I surged forward.
A blur of motion. A storm of fists.
I struck.
Over and over.
Each punch landed with bone-breaking precision, tearing through flesh and muscle like paper. His scream tore through the air—a high, jagged wail of agony—and gods, I welcomed it.
There was a rhythm to the violence. A cadence. A savage melody that only my blood remembered.
By the time I stopped, he was no longer a man.
Just pulp. Blood. Broken skin and shattered bones.
The others froze.
Eyes wide. Mouths slack. Fear crawling into their chests.
They had come as hunters.
But now—
They stared at a massacre.
I stood over the remains, breath calm. Heart steady.
And for the first time in years…
I remembered.
Hunt.
A gift—no, a curse—buried deep inside me. So brutal, so merciless, I'd sworn it off long ago.
But it was back now.
And it wanted to be fed.
The hunger clawed at my insides, roaring louder than the screams around me.
My gaze snapped to the rest of them—wide-eyed, trembling, frozen mid-step. Prey.
Blood still dripping from my knuckles, I locked onto the nearest one.
He barely had time to flinch.
In a blink, my fists met his face—splintering bone, tearing through skin. His skull cracked like an egg, the light in his eyes gone before he hit the ground.
On to the next.
And the next.
Each one launched a desperate strike—wild swings, cries of rage, panic-fueled defense.
None of it mattered.
I tore through them.
Bones shattered. Flesh gave way. Their numbers meant nothing in the face of Hunt.
Then—silence.
The last body fell at my feet, a grotesque heap of what once was human.
I stood amidst the wreckage, heart pounding. My chest heaving with breath, not from exhaustion—
But from restraint.
Then I saw it.
A glint in a pool of blood—my reflection.
But it wasn't me.
A younger version of myself stared back. Smiling. Grinning wide like a boy reunited with his favorite toy.
My own eyes…
They terrified me.
How did I become the man I swore to let go of again?
I needed answers.
I turned to Gaia. She stood still—concern etched into her features. She wasn't afraid of me, but I could see the weight behind her eyes. Worry.
"Holy smokes!" Aman blurted, stepping over a broken mace. "I haven't seen you on a hunt in months. Always a sight."
His tone was light, almost amused—but I knew it was a deflection. A balm over a fresh wound.
Gaia chuckled softly, nudging her brother's arm. They were trying to ground me. Pull me back.
But I wasn't sure I'd returned.
I looked down again—into the pool of blood at my feet. My reflection stared back, younger… wilder. The version of me I thought I'd buried.
My thoughts spiraled. How… how in all the heavens did I end up here again?