Chapter Two — Unnecessary Effort
"What a stupid Hollow."
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
The Hollow reacted a heartbeat too late.
Its claws snapped shut where Kairos' throat had been—but there was nothing there. The air hissed as its strike carved through empty space, momentum carrying it forward.
Kairos had already moved.
Just a step to the side. No rush. No wasted motion.
The Hollow twisted mid-swing, snarling as it adjusted, corrupted muscles bulging beneath stretched skin. It came again, faster this time, a blur of bone and hunger.
Kairos raised his arm.
The Hollow's wrist slammed into his palm.
He caught it.
The impact thudded through his shoulder, the force heavy enough to crack concrete beneath their feet. The Hollow shrieked in surprise, cursed Aether flaring wildly as it tried to tear free.
Kairos didn't let go.
He stepped in.
And punched it.
His fist drove straight into the Hollow's chest—clean, compact, devastating. There was no windup, no roar. Just flesh meeting force.
The Hollow flew.
Its body tore through the air and smashed into a parked car, metal screaming as the hood crumpled inward. Glass exploded outward in a sharp, glittering burst. The creature skidded across the asphalt before slamming into the base of a streetlight.
For a moment, the street went still.
Then the Hollow screamed.
It pushed itself up, bones cracking as they realigned, blood dripping freely from its mouth. Its eyes burned brighter now, madness tightening its features as it locked onto Kairos again.
It launched itself forward.
Kairos didn't move.
The Hollow reached him in a blur, claws slicing down—
—and missed.
Kairos leaned back just enough for the strike to pass inches from his chest. The claws scraped sparks from the pavement as they hit the ground instead.
He stepped to the side.
The Hollow spun, swinging again, faster, wider. Kairos ducked beneath it, pivoting smoothly as the strike sailed overhead. The creature snarled, leaping backward, then springing forward again with a savage howl.
The street became a blur of motion.
The Hollow ran along the wall of a nearby building, feet kicking up debris as it rebounded at impossible angles. It launched itself from the wall toward Kairos, body twisted midair, claws aimed for his head.
Kairos sidestepped.
The Hollow crashed where he had been, skidding across the ground before rebounding again, this time from the streetlight, then the wall, then the pavement—each movement frantic, desperate.
Attack.
Miss.
Attack.
Miss.
Kairos flowed through it all.
A tilt of the shoulder. A shift of weight. A half-step forward or back. He never retreated far. Never broke rhythm. Each dodge was precise, economical, like his body already knew where the blows would land.
The Hollow's breathing grew ragged.
Its attacks became wilder. Sloppier.
Hunger didn't make you smarter. It made you careless.
The Hollow lunged again, claws flashing toward Kairos' chest.
Kairos raised his leg.
His foot connected with the Hollow's ribs mid-stride.
The kick snapped through the creature's body, lifting it off the ground and sending it spinning sideways into a dumpster. The metal container toppled with a deafening crash, spilling trash across the street as the Hollow tumbled out in a heap.
It roared and surged to its feet again, blood pouring freely now, chest heaving.
It charged.
Again.
And again.
Again and again, it came—clawing, biting, slamming itself forward with reckless fury. And each time, Kairos dodged. Each time, he countered just enough to keep it off-balance. A jab to the jaw. A knee to the gut. A shove that redirected momentum instead of stopping it outright.
Minutes passed.
The Hollow slowed.
Its movements lost their sharpness. Its strikes came late, telegraphed by frustration and rage. Cursed Aether flickered unevenly around its body, surging and collapsing in unstable waves.
Finally, it overcommitted.
The Hollow leapt forward, arms wide, intending to crush Kairos beneath sheer mass and force.
Kairos stepped in.
He reached up.
And grabbed its head.
His fingers dug into warped flesh, gripping the sides of the Hollow's skull as its momentum died instantly. The creature thrashed, claws scraping uselessly against his arms, but Kairos held firm.
He brought it closer.
Under the streetlight.
He looked at it.
Really looked.
Blood-stained teeth bared in a twisted grin. Eyes glowing wrong—too bright, too empty. Jaw trembling uncontrollably, hunger etched into every line of its face.
For a brief moment, it almost looked human again.
Almost.
"…Look at you," Kairos said quietly. "So disgusting."
The Hollow snarled, saliva dripping down its chin.
"You would've been a good-looking man," he continued, voice calm, almost disappointed.
His grip tightened.
The Hollow's struggles grew frantic, its claws scraping at his wrists, but it was too late now. The creature's eyes widened as something like fear finally cut through the hunger.
Kairos adjusted his stance.
Open palm.
A slap.
The sound cracked through the street like a gunshot.
The shockwave rippled through flesh and bone in a single, violent instant. The Hollow's neck snapped sideways, skin tearing as the force carried through.
Its head came off.
It flew across the street, bouncing once before rolling to a stop near the curb, eyes still glowing faintly as the light faded from them.
The body remained standing for half a second.
Then it collapsed.
Kairos released it and stepped back.
Blood splattered across his sleeve, warm and sticky. It dripped slowly onto the pavement, mixing with the pooling crimson already staining the street.
He looked down at his arm.
"…Great," he muttered. "Now I've got blood all over me."
He exhaled, long and slow.
The street was quiet again. No screams. No movement. Just the distant hum of the city and the soft flicker of the streetlight overhead.
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance.
Kairos adjusted his blindfold, brushing stray strands of hair away from his face. He bent down, retrieved his fallen keys, and slipped them into his pocket.
Without another glance at the corpse, he turned and walked toward his apartment entrance.
Moments later, a figure stepped onto the street.
She moved calmly, umbrella resting lightly on her shoulder despite the clear night sky. Her uniform coat bore the insignia of the Aether Guard, its fabric pristine even as her boots stepped through blood-stained pavement.
She stopped when she saw the body.
Brows knitting slightly, she surveyed the scene—the headless corpse, the damage to the street, the lack of lingering Aether discharge.
"…Has an Aether Guard been here before me?" she murmured.
She crouched briefly, inspecting the body, then straightened.
"…Then why wasn't cleanup called?"
Her gaze drifted upward.
Past the broken streetlight.
Past the shattered windows.
It settled on one apartment in particular.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she rested the umbrella more comfortably on her shoulder.
"Hmmm."