The next morning, the sunlight crept through the blinds of Ian's office at STF Headquarters, glinting off the polished marble floors. He had barely set his coffee down when the holo-comm on his desk buzzed with an emergency frequency.
DAWNVALE RUN — PRIORITY DISTURBANCE.
The words pulsed in red. Ian straightened, scanning the report as it streamed across the screen. A small farming valley, two towns reporting missing citizens, and strange energy readings that the intel wing couldn't classify. Locals were whispering about demons.
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of his brow. Just when we get one quiet night. This wasn't a call for the full STF; it was something smaller, ideal for a test. A chance for some of the newer generation to gain field experience.
Ian opened his comm. "White Flash, The Lion, report to my office."
Minutes later, White Flash stepped in first, his usual confident grin hiding a touch of nerves. His white and gray armor gleamed faintly in the light.
The Lion, tall and solid with streaks of gold woven through his armor plating, followed close behind, his lion crest insignia polished proudly across his chest.
Both had once been public heroes before joining the STF, media darlings turned soldiers. Now they stood before Ian like cadets waiting for orders.
Ian turned his chair toward them. "You two are heading to Dawnvale Run. There's been talk of a demon disturbance, whispers in the woods, and people going missing. It's light work, but good field experience."
White Flash folded his arms. "Sounds easy enough."
"Not so fast," Ian added.
"Before you go, I need you to stop by Lumina Crest and pick up a rifle for me."
The Lion blinked. "Wait, a rifle? How's that gonna help with the mission?"
Ian's tone didn't change. "It's not. I just want it. It's one of the first prototypes ever built, crafted during the First Great War. A rare relic."
White Flash tilted his head. "So… a souvenir run before the demon hunt?"
Ian smirked. "Exactly. I'll send you the address."
Lumina Crest was a far cry from the war-torn valleys the two were used to. As their shuttle descended, the skyline gleamed like a field of glass and silver. Holographic billboards floated among skyscrapers, and the air shimmered with stock tickers and trading statistics. Businessmen in sharp suits hurried past with drones carrying briefcases.
White Flash looked down at his combat boots, then at The Lion's armored greaves. "Yeah… we're a little underdressed."
"A little?" The Lion muttered, glancing at his lion-marked shoulder plate. "They're gonna think we walked out of a museum."
The building they needed loomed ahead, a towering glass spire, its surface reflecting the city lights like a mirror. They entered through sliding crystal doors into a marble lobby that gleamed like polished water.
The receptionist barely looked up. "You two—elevator eight. Floor eighty. Mr. Peter's expecting you."
The Lion blinked. "Uh...thank you."
The elevator ride was silent except for the hum of soft jazz. When the doors opened, they stepped into a high-level office lined with panoramic windows. Behind a sleek desk stood a middle-aged man in a dark suit.
"Ian said he was sending two people to pick this up," he said, holding out a case. Inside was a rifle of elegant design, black steel etched with old Empire symbols, its barrel engraved with the name Vanguard I.
White Flash whistled low. "Now that's a relic."
"And now it's Ian's," The Lion said dryly, closing the case.
The trip to Dawnvale Run took them across quiet plains and winding rivers until the glass towers of Lumina Crest faded behind them. The landscape turned green and wild, dotted with scattered farms and small wooden houses. They arrived in the main town just as the sun dipped below the hills. The air smelled faintly of pine and wet earth.
At the edge of the cobblestone street stood an old man with a white beard and a weathered coat. "You're the ones they sent?" he asked.
White Flash nodded. "That's us. Heard there's been some trouble."
The man gestured for them to follow. "Come inside. I'll explain."
They sat at his kitchen table, the only light coming from a flickering lamp. "People go missing here," the old man began. "The forest whispers your name, and if you answer, well, you don't come back. Some say it's demons, others say it's something worse."
The Lion frowned, his hand resting on the table. "Something worse?"
The man nodded grimly. "Whatever it is—it watches. We made rules to survive. Don't respond if you hear someone call your name. And if you hear bells… run."
White Flash raised a brow. "Got it. Sounds simple enough."
"Simple," the man repeated, "but not easy."
That night, the two made camp deep in the pine forest. The trees were massive, their shadows stretching like black walls under the moonlight. The ground was littered with acorns, and the air was still, too still.
White Flash poked the campfire with a stick. "You think it's really demons?"
The Lion sat across from him, mask resting beside him. "Either that, or old-world superstitions. Let's hope it's the second one."
Hours passed in uneasy quiet.
Then, bells. Faint at first. A soft jingling from deep within the trees. White Flash froze, his hand sliding toward his katana. The Lion stood slowly, helmet locking into place with a hiss.
The jingling grew louder, circling them.
"It's moving around us," White Flash whispered.
A shape darted between the trees, tall, pale, impossibly thin. It moved like a shadow that had forgotten how to stand. White Flash flicked on his flashlight, and the beam caught a glimpse of something, long limbs, white skin, eyes too wide. The creature snapped its head to the side and vanished behind a tree.
White Flash sprinted toward it, then, suddenly, the fire went out. Darkness swallowed everything.
"Lion?" White Flash called.
No answer. Only the rustle of leaves. He ran back to where the fire had been, but instead of their campsite, a massive tree now stood there, roots coiled where their packs had been.
"What is this place…" White Flash muttered. "These aren't normal demons."
Then, footsteps. Fast. Approaching.
The Lion burst from the shadows, panting. "Yo—RUN!"
White Flash didn't need to be told twice. He bolted through the forest, zipping between trunks at superhuman speed. Behind them, the trees shuddered as something enormous pursued, tall and skeletal, its neck stretching unnaturally, reaching toward them. White Flash spun mid-run and hurled a throwing knife.
The blade glowed blue, struck true, and the creature screamed, dissolving into a cloud of white ash that vanished into the night air.
They stumbled out of the forest, collapsing near the edge of the town. The cold night wind cut through their armor as they caught their breath.
The old man appeared in the doorway of his cabin, lantern in hand. "You boys all right?"
The Lion nodded, still gasping. "Yeah. Just… barely."
White Flash straightened, his voice steady but low. "Whatever that thing was, it wasn't like any demon we've fought before."
The old man's expression darkened. "Then the forest's curse lives on."
By dawn, the two heroes began their investigation, tracing footprints, ash trails, and strange symbols carved into the trees. But the deeper they looked, the fewer answers they found.
Whatever stalked Dawnvale Run, it wasn't gone, only waiting. And somewhere, in the whispering woods, the faint sound of bells could still be heard.