The rain hit the pavement in slow, rhythmic taps, as if was holding its breath.
Ren had always liked the quiet after a storm.But tonight, the silence was heavier - like it knew what he was.
He stood beneath the flickering light of a rusted streetlamp, hood low over his eyes, blood still drying on his hands. Not his blood. Never his.
He didn't mean to kill. Not this time. But the hunger...it had whispered too sweetly.
Then he heard it - the clicks of boots against wet concrete.
He turned, and saw her.
She stepped from the shadows like a ghost in black leather, her silver bladed dagger gleaming at her side.
Her eyes locked onto his - not fear, but fury. And something else couldn't name.
"You're him," she said. "The one they call the Crimson Shadow."
Ren didn't move. "And you're the one sent to end me."
She didn't answer. She didn't have to. Her stance was that of a trained hunter, but her hands trembled.
It shouldn't ended in blood. But instead, it began with silence