The sun was hidden behind a thick curtain of gray clouds. In the land city of Drezan, nestled deep within the beast-infested plains, routine was everything. Aryan, now 15, moved silently through the crumbling alleys, his tattered hood drawn low over his face. Dust swirled with every step he took, kicked up by the dry wind that carried the stench of metal, rust, and faint rot.
His morning was simple. Collect scrap. Trade for food. Survive.
"Three chips for half a bread?" Aryan scoffed as he tossed the vendor a glare. "You call this a fair trade?"
The old merchant grunted. "Survival's expensive, boy. You either pay or starve."
Aryan tightened his grip around the broken circuit board in his hand, jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. He handed over the chips and turned, biting into the stale crust. The world didn't care for complaints.
Not anymore.
Then came the sound.
A low, guttural howl — unnatural, sharp, and echoing across the concrete ruins. Heads turned. Mothers clutched children. The guards stationed at the rusted gates shouted something over the comms, but it was too late.
The barrier was breached.
From the eastern end of the city, a crimson mist began to spread. Out of it charged five—no, seven—no, ten monstrous beasts, their limbs too long, their eyes glowing with hunger, some with scaled hides, others covered in bone-like armor. One leaped through a crumbling wall with ease, another crushed a market stall under its clawed feet.
Screams erupted.
Aryan's legs moved on instinct. He dropped the bread. He didn't think, just ran. Behind him, a woman screamed as a beast pounced on her, tearing her apart with a sickening crunch. People pushed and shoved, trampling one another. Buildings cracked as monsters tore through them.
He darted into a collapsed building — a former school — and slipped into a narrow crevice between fallen walls. Heart pounding. Breathing ragged.
Then the air turned cold.
A beast had followed him.
It crept slowly, its elongated arms brushing against walls, sniffing, its forked tongue flicking through the air. Aryan held his breath, pressing himself against the broken wall, praying it wouldn't find him.
A loud snap of bone echoed.
The beast was here.
It turned its head slowly toward the gap.
Aryan's wide brown eyes met its glowing yellow ones.
A scream built in his throat.
Then—
WHOOOSH!
A torrent of fire burst through the hallway, slamming into the beast's face, igniting it instantly. The creature screeched in agony, flailing before collapsing in a heap of charred flesh and smoke.
Aryan blinked.
Through the flames, a figure stepped forward. A tall man in black armor, his hand engulfed in burning flame. A glowing red tattoo flickered on his wrist.
"What a weakling. Burnt too fast," the man muttered.
Aryan opened his mouth to speak—until a second beast lunged from the shadows.
CHOMP.
The flaming man's eyes widened as massive jaws crushed him in a single bite, severing his body at the waist.
Blood sprayed. Aryan screamed, stumbled backward, and vomited. The stench of burning flesh and torn meat mixed with the iron tang of blood.
The beast turned to Aryan.
"P-Please… no—" Aryan whispered, tears streaming down his face.
A blade whistled through the air.
SLASH!
The beast's head split apart.
More figures appeared — a squad, armored, disciplined, efficient. No hesitation. No fear. They tore through the remaining beasts like reapers. One used a hammer that glowed with seismic energy. Another moved like a shadow, striking with invisible blades. Within minutes, all the monsters were dead.
Aryan collapsed to his knees, breathing hard. One of the soldiers noticed him but didn't approach.
"Kid's just a survivor. Leave him."
The others nodded. Then, one by one, they began hauling the beast corpses into large metal sleds.
Aryan, curiosity flickering behind the trauma, wiped his tears and crept after them.
Half an hour later, he found himself in the city's underbelly, a forgotten part of Drezan. Hidden behind collapsed towers and steel barricades was a hidden gate. Two guards stood watch, scanning the incoming cargo with old scanners.
The beasts' corpses were dragged inside.
Aryan waited until the last one entered, then climbed over a rusted scaffold to peek inside.
It was a vast underground market, bathed in flickering neon lights. Giant cages held mutated animals. Strange tech glowed behind dirty glass. And in the center—
A black banner with a white blade emblem.
"BLADE."
He watched as the team that killed the monsters handed over the bodies to a masked figure at a desk.
"Three C-class monsters," said the leader.
The masked man nodded and tossed a heavy sack of coins onto the table.
"Payment confirmed. Next hunt, same deal."
Aryan's heart raced.
So this is how they make money… hunting monsters, then selling the bodies in the black market.
He ducked back, overwhelmed. He had stumbled into something far bigger than survival.
Something dangerous.
Something powerful.
And somehow, he never knew—that people can also make money through this .