> "Power changes you. Not like a gift—but like a wound that never heals."
---
He ran.
Branches whipped his face. Blood smeared his palms. The cursed mark still burned beneath his skin, a pulsing reminder of what he'd done—what he'd become.
Somewhere behind him, voices barked orders.
> "Don't let him escape!"
> "That mark—he's a Host!"
Raven didn't know what that meant.
All he knew was that the glow in his hand wasn't fading—and every time he stumbled, the trees whispered. No, not trees. The shadows. They felt alive. Watching. Waiting.
He collapsed near a dry creekbed, lungs burning. He pulled his glove off.
The sigil shimmered like ink trapped beneath glass—shifting, never still. A ring of curved lines spiraled inward around a single jagged fang.
"I didn't choose this…" he whispered.
But it didn't matter. Power doesn't ask for permission.
---
The world used to make sense.
You scavenge. You survive. You stay invisible.
But now?
The mark was already rewriting rules he didn't know existed.
He saw it first when he stared at his own reflection in the stream.
His eyes had changed.
No longer grey—now rimmed with crimson, thin tendrils of red crawling outward like veins. And behind him, faint and flickering, stood a shadowy figure with a shape that almost looked human.
Almost.
Then the pain hit. Not in his head. In his soul.
He screamed—and the mark surged.
The air around him folded like paper. The light dimmed. And for just a moment, the entire forest bent toward him, like it was listening.
---
> "Calm yourself."
The voice wasn't his.
He whirled.
From the trees stepped a girl—no, a woman—clad in a long black coat embroidered with violet sigils. White hair tied back, silver eyes cold as the moon.
She wasn't breathing hard. She hadn't even drawn a weapon.
"You're the Host," she said flatly. "The core-bonded scavenger."
He tried to stand, stumbled.
"I—I didn't know. It wasn't supposed to happen. I touched it, and—"
Her eyes narrowed.
"The core chose you."
Silence.
Then she lifted a small crystal from her belt, clicked it once. It shimmered, then floated. Recording.
"This is Aira Velmont. Spectral Division: Class A. Target located. Mark confirmed. Awaiting orders."
> Target.
> Located.
His heart dropped.
"So that's it?" he whispered. "You're going to kill me?"
Aira didn't answer.
Instead, the ground cracked behind her—and a figure leapt out, slamming into the earth between them.
Jin Kuraga.
Red hair. Cybernetic arm. Massive grin.
"Whoa, whoa, ice queen," he said. "You always start off this intense?"
Aira sighed. "This isn't your jurisdiction."
Jin looked at Raven.
"He doesn't look dangerous."
"I'm not!" Raven said quickly. "I just—something's wrong with me, I didn't want this—"
And then the mark lit again.
Raven gasped.
Power surged—wild, uncontrolled—and the air around him twisted.
Jin raised an eyebrow.
"Okay. Maybe a bit dangerous."
---
Aira moved first.
One sigil flashed across her arms—and a barrage of spectral blades flew toward Raven.
Instinct took over.
Raven dodged—but not like before. The world slowed. The blades seemed sluggish.
> "Flick."
His body blurred—just once—and the next moment, he stood behind them both, panting.
A technique. Not his. Theirs. One he devoured.
Blade Flicker.
"Oh," Jin muttered. "Now that's cool."
Raven didn't wait.
He turned and ran—again.
But this time, the trees didn't fight him. The shadows parted.
Like they wanted him to escape.