The creature moved.
Faster than before.
Faster than it had any right to move.
One moment it stood in the rain, black eyes reflecting nothing—
the next it was inside the circle of hunters.
Steel flashed.
A blade cut through the air—
and missed.
The creature was already somewhere else.
Behind them.
Among them.
Learning.
A hunter cried out as something struck him in the side.
Not a clean blow.
Not a killing strike.
Testing.
The man stumbled, dropping to one knee.
"Stay together!" the leader barked.
Too late.
The formation had already broken.
The creature tilted its head.
Watching.
Calculating.
"…Better," it whispered again.
Verrès moved.
Not toward the creature—
toward the fallen hunter.
He grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him backward just as the creature's hand slashed through the space where his throat had been.
Claws scraped sparks from the pavement.
Too close.
The hunter stared at Verrès, stunned.
"…You—"
"Move," Verrès said.
The man didn't argue.
Good.
Amara was already in motion.
She circled wide, forcing the creature to split its attention.
"Hey!" she called.
The creature's head snapped toward her.
Interest.
Good.
"Still learning?" she taunted.
It smiled.
"…Always."
It lunged.
Amara met it head-on.
This time she didn't hold back.
Her strike cracked across its jaw—
hard enough to twist its head sideways.
The creature staggered—
just slightly.
Better.
Verrès saw the opening.
He moved.
Faster than before.
Faster than he had moved in three hundred years.
His hand shot forward—
gripping the creature's throat—
and this time he drove it down into the pavement with full force.
The street shattered beneath them.
Stone cracked.
Water sprayed outward.
For a moment—
the creature did not move.
Then—
it laughed.
Soft.
Breathless.
"…Again."
Verrès' eyes darkened.
"No."
He pressed harder.
Bone cracked.
The creature's body twitched—
not in pain—
in adjustment.
Its hands came up—
gripping his wrist—
not fighting—
studying.
"…You are changing," it said.
Verrès froze.
Just for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
The creature twisted—
and broke free.
Impossible.
It slid backward, landing lightly on its feet.
Amara stepped in again.
But this time—
it didn't engage.
It stepped back.
One step.
Two.
Watching them.
Thinking.
The hunters regrouped.
Weapons raised.
But none of them moved forward.
Even they understood now—
this wasn't a fight they controlled.
The creature tilted its head.
"…Not yet."
Verrès stepped forward.
"You don't get to choose when this ends."
The creature smiled.
"…No."
A pause.
"…You do."
And then—
it looked directly into his eyes.
And something happened.
Not physical.
Not visible.
But Verrès felt it.
A pull.
Deep.
Ancient.
Something inside his blood responded—
violently.
The world shifted.
The rain faded.
The street disappeared.
Darkness swallowed everything.
He was back on the dock.
The storm.
The river.
The smell of rot.
But this time—
he was not dying.
He was standing.
Watching.
The Master stood before him.
Not as he remembered—
not ruined—
not broken—
but whole.
Or closer to it.
His skin still pale.
Still wrong.
But not collapsing.
Not decaying.
Evolving.
The Master's black eyes fixed on him.
"You see now."
Verrès tried to move.
Couldn't.
His body wouldn't respond.
This wasn't memory.
This was something else.
"What are you?" Verrès demanded.
The Master smiled faintly.
"I am becoming."
The same words.
The same tone.
The same purpose.
The realization hit like ice.
The creature.
The lieutenant.
It wasn't just connected to the Master.
It was built from him.
"You're changing them," Verrès said.
"Improving them."
"Correcting them."
The Master stepped closer.
"No," he said softly.
"Correcting us."
Verrès' jaw tightened.
"We are not broken."
The Master tilted his head.
"Three hundred years," he said.
"And you still cling to that illusion."
He gestured toward Verrès.
"You are proof that we are unfinished."
Verrès felt something twist in his chest.
Anger.
Or something deeper.
"You lost control of me."
The Master smiled.
Slow.
Patient.
"I released you."
Silence.
The storm raged around them.
The river churned.
"You expect me to believe that?" Verrès said.
"I expect you to remember."
The Master stepped closer still.
Too close.
His voice dropped.
"You were not ready."
The words sank deep.
Unwelcome.
Unavoidable.
"You resisted," the Master continued.
"You adapted."
His black eyes gleamed.
"You became… interesting."
Verrès shook his head.
"No."
But doubt had already taken root.
"I watched you," the Master said.
"Across decades. Across continents. Across wars and empires."
His voice softened.
"You survived everything I gave you."
A pause.
Then:
"That is why I need you."
The word echoed.
Need.
Not want.
Not hunt.
Need.
Verrès' voice dropped.
"For what?"
The Master smiled.
"For what comes next."
The world fractured.
Rain slammed back into existence.
Sound returned all at once.
The street.
The hunters.
Amara shouting his name.
"…Verrès!"
He staggered slightly.
Just for a moment.
The creature stood a few feet away.
Watching him.
Understanding.
"…You see him now," it said.
Verrès' gaze snapped to it.
"You showed me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
The creature tilted its head.
"…To prepare you."
Amara stepped beside him.
"What just happened?"
Verrès didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Not yet.
The truth was still settling.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
The creature took a slow step backward.
"…Soon."
Verrès' voice sharpened.
"No."
But the creature was already retreating.
The shadows welcomed it.
Swallowed it.
Gone.
Again.
Silence fell over the street.
The hunters stood frozen.
Processing.
Trying to understand something that refused to be understood.
Amara turned to Verrès.
"What did it do to you?"
He looked at her.
For the first time since she met him—
there was something new in his eyes.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Uncertainty.
"He's not just making monsters," Verrès said quietly.
Amara frowned.
"Then what is he doing?"
Verrès looked down the empty street.
The smell of rot lingered.
Stronger than ever.
"He's evolving them."
A pause.
Then, softer:
"And he thinks I'm the key."
The weight of that settled over all of them.
The hunter leader stepped forward.
"…Then we have a problem."
Verrès looked at him.
"Yes."
A distant scream echoed through the city.
Not close.
Not far.
Another outbreak.
Another test.
Or something worse.
Verrès' gaze hardened.
"No," he said.
"We have a war."
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