Forsaken Hunter

Chapter 23 - Prey of the Underworld

The Noak Guild was its usual mess of chaos. Laughter bounced off the stone walls, tankards slammed onto tables, and hunters exchanged stories louder than necessary. The scent of ale, sweat, and iron lingered in the air like smoke after a fire.

But tucked into a quiet corner beneath a flickering lantern, Beno Mark, Charles, and Luna sat in silence. Their drinks sat untouched.

Since the child mutation incident... none of them had been the same.

Beno leaned forward, staring at the scarred table. His voice was quiet, rough. "Should we tell the officials? Let them handle it?"

Charles didn't answer right away. He exhaled slowly, eyes unfocused. "Even if we do... who's to say they'll believe us? And what if the people behind it *are* the officials?"

That thought lingered like a shadow between them.

Luna, who hadn't spoken since they sat down, finally looked up. Her hands were clenched in her lap. "They were children," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Tiny, scared... and someone chose to *experiment* on them. I can't stop seeing their faces."

Her words stung more than silence ever could.

A moment passed. Then another.

"You're right," Beno muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "We can't let this go."

That was when a voice, sharp and strange, broke through the heavy mood.

"You *could* leak it to the media," said a man nearby. "If you want people to see the truth."

The trio turned, startled.

He was short—barely up to Beno's shoulder—with a wiry build and oversized goggles resting on his nose. His white coat looked out of place among the armored guild crowd. There was a strange energy about him, like he never stopped thinking.

"Media?" Charles asked, still unsure whether to take him seriously.

The man gave a small shrug. "People love outrage. Especially if it involves kids. Public pressure can do what the law refuses to."

Charles exchanged a look with Beno and Luna. For the first time in hours... something like hope flickered in their eyes.

"It might work," Charles said, slowly. "If the people see it... even corrupt hands will be forced to pull back."

Beno nodded, some strength returning to his voice. "Yeah. Let's uncover the truth."

Luna looked between them, then gave a short, firm nod. "We'll drag this into the light. No matter who stands behind it."

The man grinned and extended a hand. "Name's Sam Pool. I'm new to the guild, but I've been looking for a team. Sounds like you've got a hell of a mission."

Beno grasped his hand. "Welcome to the storm, Sam."

But as their pact was sealed with that handshake, someone else watched from the shadows behind the stone wall. A tall figure cloaked in black, lips curled in a thin, dangerous smile.

"So... the Son of the Forsaken Star decides to meddle."

He turned away, footsteps fading into the dark.

"Very well. I'll be waiting." Evil Smile

A low hum filled the street as Sam pulled up in his van.

It looked more like a surveillance truck out of a spy movie—bulky, armored with matte black panels, and mounted on the roof was a satellite dish that rotated slowly, catching signals from unseen places. The back doors opened with a mechanical hiss, revealing three humming computer monitors, a drone perched like a hawk on its charger, and rows of blinking gadgets lining the shelves.

Beno, Charles, and Luna stared, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"You built all this... yourself?" Charles asked, blinking.

Sam adjusted his goggles with a grin. "Yup. Government tech is too slow. This? This is faster, smarter... and doesn't ask for permission."

Beno let out a low whistle. "Okay, that's impressive."

Sam stepped up to the console, fingers flying across the keyboard. A nearby screen showed a digital map of Veno City, marked with red dots.

"Since you mentioned the mutated child was found near a dumping ground," Sam began, "that's where we'll start. But I'm not expecting them to just show up again. We need intel. So—" he turned, holding up a tiny metallic object between his fingers, "we plant this tracker on any suspicious vehicle we find. It's shaped like an ant, but don't let that fool you."

He pressed a button and the tiny "ant" unfolded slightly—revealing a miniature camera lens, a mic, and tiny legs for gripping.

"Video, audio, and GPS tracking," Sam said proudly. "Range up to 2 kilometers. And yeah... I built this one at home."

Charles nodded, but frowned. "Still... what if they never come back? What if the child was just a failed experiment, dumped and forgotten?"

Sam's grin faded. "That's possible. But it's the only lead we've got. Unless we sit and wait for another tragedy."

Beno spoke up, voice firm. "I saw the car. The truck too. They were parked near the back alley of the restaurant where I used to work, in Veno City."

Luna looked at him. "I remember. You mentioned it before. If we're starting anywhere... that's the place."

"Perfect." Sam passed out small earpieces and they loaded into the van.

The van rolled into Veno City under the dull gray sky, blending into the flow of traffic like a shadow among shadows. As the skyline rose before them, Beno's breath hitched.

They passed the familiar corners of his old life—faded shop signs, the worn-down diner where he used to mop floors, the rust-stained alley behind it. The closer they got, the more the memories clawed their way out from the depths of his mind.

Then the van turned toward the subway entrance.

That place.

Beno froze. His eyes locked on the stairwell leading underground, half-buried in shadows. The same entrance. The same cracked tiles. The same rusted railing where he had once gripped for his life.

It all came rushing back.

The echo of goblin snarls.

The scent of blood and burnt flesh.

The darkness pressing in from all sides, his own breathing echoing in his ears as he fought just to stay alive.

And Renzo—his cruel smirk, the eyes that watched with amusement while Beno nearly died.

Beno's fingers dug into the seat. His breathing quickened, shallow and ragged. He didn't even realize he was trembling.

Luna noticed first.

She reached across the van and gently took his hand. Her palm was warm against his cold fingers.

"Beno..." she said softly, her eyes meeting his. "You're not that helpless boy anymore."

He blinked, her voice cutting through the fog of panic like a light in a tunnel.

"You're a Hunter now," Luna said, squeezing his hand. "Stronger. Smarter. Alive."

Charles leaned forward from the passenger seat, concern etched into his face. "You don't have to do this alone, man. We're with you."

Beno swallowed hard, forcing his throat to open. He looked at the subway again, his heartbeat still pounding—but steadier now.

"Renzo," he muttered, voice low but clear. "I'll make sure I will catch you soon."

Sam, watching from the side, didn't speak—but he turned his chair back to the monitors, subtly giving Beno a moment of space.

The van idled by the curb.

The city didn't notice them. It never did.

But something had shifted—something deeper than fear.

Beno had walked back into the place that tried to bury him. And this time, he wasn't alone.

High above, on the rooftop of a derelict building, five shadows stood silently under the overcast sky. The city's soft hum did little to veil the deadly intent in their gaze as they peered down at the unsuspecting team below.

Their leader, a tall figure clad in dark, jagged armor, adjusted his scope and grinned. His eyes locked onto Beno.

"So... that's the worm we're hunting?" he muttered. "Beno. E-rank. And the others... Luna, D-rank. Charles too. Barely worth calling Hunters."

Behind him, a brutish man with arms like tree trunks and a rusted hammer strapped across his back chuckled. "Tch. Weaklings."

Another voice—slimy, nasal—spoke up, licking his cracked lips as he stared at Luna through the binoculars. "Boss... that girl's young. Real young. Pure. I call dibs on breaking her in."

The leader didn't turn, but his smirk widened into something rotten. "We'll keep her. She'll make a fine offering to the pleasure pits. Our brothers will enjoy the fruits of her... youth."

The others laughed—low, guttural, inhuman.

"As for the boys," the bald one with the snake tattoo sneered, "they'll fetch a decent price in the slave markets. Especially the black-haired one. Quiet types sell well."

The boss finally turned, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "No mistakes. No noise. We do this clean. Quick. Then we disappear before that media freak in the van realizes we were ever here."

Their shadows stretched long in the dying light as they began descending the building silently, like wolves preparing to pounce.

Hammer-man cracked his neck. "Let's play, boys."

"Let's *hunt*," the boss whispered.

Below, Beno and the others had no idea what was coming.

But death... was already watching.