Ethan tilted his head. His expression didn't shift, but something in the air did.
Then he smiled—not with warmth, but with quiet amusement.
"You want me to join," he said slowly, "because I look like someone who shouldn't be able to do what I did."
The leader blinked, unsure where the conversation was turning.
"And that scares you," Ethan continued. "So you think if you tie yourself to me early, you'll benefit. Control the wild card before it turns the table."
The leader opened his mouth, but Ethan stepped closer now. Not threatening—just... focused.
"I work alone," he repeated, softer this time. "Because I don't like people who think they're smarter than they are."
For a second, none of them said anything. The air felt tight.
Then Ethan turned, hands in his pockets, and walked off into the gloom without looking back.
The leader spat to the side. "Cocky bastard."
Another hunter chuckled, watching Ethan vanish into the base shadows. "You think he's bluffing?"
The leader hesitated, then shook his head. "No. He's just dangerous."
INT. HUNTER BASE — STRATEGIC OPERATIONS ROOM.
The sleek meeting room buzzed with dim blue ambient lighting. A 72-inch screen took up the front wall, displaying the calm, steely-eyed face of Elias, the Chairman of the Global Hunter Association. A soft hum filled the room as the connection stabilized.
Ren, seated at the head of a long metallic table, stood and offered a subtle nod.
"Chairman Elias. I appreciate you taking the time. And… thank you for the reinforcements from Korea. Their presence has helped contain the chaos—for now."
Elias gave a small nod, his background blurred—undoubtedly on the move.
"Don't thank me yet. You still haven't told me what we're dealing with. Just reports of bodies torn apart and seasoned hunters going mad."
At that moment, the door hissed open.
A young woman, likely no older than 25, entered with a stack of sleek digital files clutched to her chest. Her lab coat bore the insignia of the Research Division. Her short black bob cut was tucked behind one ear, and thin-rimmed glasses framed her sharp eyes.
Ren turned toward her.
"Chairman Elias—this is Dr. Yoon Hana, one of the lead researchers in our biomedical division. She's been dissecting and cataloguing… the corpses."
"Chairman Elias. I'll be brief."
She placed a small projector on the table. A 3D hologram of a humanoid figure rotated in the air—marked with muscle overlays and highlighted regions.
"We've encountered a unique biological anomaly. These entities—currently labeled as 'Type-V'—display extreme regenerative capabilities. We've tested multiple damage types, including blunt force trauma, piercing, and elemental burns."
She tapped the hologram. It shifted to show a slowed simulation of a Type-V regenerating a torn arm in seconds.
"Their cellular structure is unstable yet cohesive—an anomaly. It doesn't follow cancer-like logic, and there's no decay. Think of it as controlled biological chaos."
She swiped again—charts of reaction times and movement bursts appeared.
"Speed-wise, they clock at 3.2x the reflexes of an A-rank hunter. Strength... comparable to a bear that's been juiced on ten tons of magic-enhanced steroids. Most concerningly, we have yet to find a clear 'core.' You decapitate them—they die. But short of that? They keep coming."
She paused briefly, adjusting her glasses.
"Historically speaking, 'vampires' appear across cultures—Eastern Europe, West Africa, parts of Asia. Always nocturnal, always regenerative, and always predators. Whether this is mimetic evolution or… something else—we don't know."
She bowed slightly.
"That concludes the preliminary findings. With your permission, I'll return to the lab."
Ren gave a nod. Elias simply said, "Thank you, Doctor."
Once she left, the door hissing shut behind her, Elias leaned closer to the screen.
"You've got the world watching, Ren. The incident on Verusa has made headlines globally. People are asking questions. If this is real—we need to consider going public."
Ren exhaled slowly and folded his arms.
"Tell them what exactly? That we're fighting vampires? Mythical creatures from bedtime stories? They'll think we've lost our minds, Elias. We'd be mocked for turning the world's deadliest breach into a fairy tale."
"We're not in the business of hiding truths. If these creatures spread beyond the island—"
"And until then, they stay fictional. You know how fragile global morale is. Vampires? That'll turn panic into hysteria. We need proof, data, and a containment plan. Then maybe… we tell them. Right now? They'll laugh. Or riot."
Elias tapped his fingers on the desk on his side, mulling it over.
"And if the truth leaks? If a whistleblower speaks first?"
Ren looked him dead in the eye.
"Then we lose control of the narrative. And fear… takes the mic."
Silence lingered. Finally, Elias gave a single nod.
"Keep me posted. And Ren…"
"Yes, Chairman?"
"Try not to lose the island."
The screen went black.
The room fell silent again—save for the distant thunder and the quiet ticking of mana counters recalibrating.
The base was quiet, save for the low murmurs of hunters settling in for the night. Blankets were thrown across the rough terrain, weapons placed within arm's reach. Some leaned against each other, sharing tired smiles; others sat like statues, eyes darting to every flicker of movement. This wasn't rest—it was the eye of the storm.
A few feet away, Ethan sat against a cracked wall, face half-shadowed by his hoodie. He opened his interface.
[Status Update][Strength: 32][Agility: 33][Intelligence: 31][Charisma: 30][Endurance: 34][Stealth: 35][Perception: 36][Combat Skills: 33][Magic/Abilities: 31][Speed: 34][Available Skill Points: 0]
He closed the interface slowly.
"I've been walking in circles…" he muttered under his breath. "I need answers."
Ethan pushed himself up. His boots made barely a sound against the dirt as he headed toward the main exit of the camp, hands in his pockets, eyes low.
Near the gate, a group of hunters lounged by a fire, a few of them sharpening blades and muttering about tomorrow's expedition. One man glanced up and frowned.
"Hey," he called, nudging the others. "What's he doing?"
Another held a cracked photo against the dim light, comparing it to the hooded silhouette. "That's him… height matches… but something's off. The report doesn't add up."
"Maybe that's why the boss is interested. Kid survived something none of the others did."
Ethan heard every word. He didn't pause, didn't blink—just shifted direction slightly, turning left toward the old garage entrance. A parked supply truck pulled into place behind him, perfectly obstructing the line of sight.
"Shit. Where'd he go?" hissed the leader of the mercenaries, stepping forward, frustration mounting.
One of them climbed a crate and scanned the rooftops. "I got eyes! He's entering a tunnel north-west side. I'm going after him!"
The man dashed, boots clacking against rusted scaffolding as he launched himself onto the roof. His movements were crisp, feline—vaulting low railings and leaping air ducts with practiced ease. A shadow built for pursuit.
Below, the leader tapped his comms. "Do not lose him. This kid's more than what he looks. And if he's the reason the chairman's restless… we're not leaving without him."
—
Let me know if you'd like to follow Ethan into the tunnel or cut to another scene.