A creature woven from hunger and malice, the size of a great wolf, lunged from the darkness. It moved like a nightmare made flesh, aimed straight for Taya’s throat.
Cory reacted on instinct as he hurled the dagger in his hand; it shot forward at lightning speed, its edges trailing a wake of gold sparks. The beast was a fraction too slow and the blade managed to sank deep into its gut, and immediately, black spectral vapor seethed from the wound. Obsidian blood followed, splattering the pavement in thick, foul drops that smelled of ancient rot- suffocating the very life force itself.
Taya scrambled back, throwing herself into the shadowed corner of a nearby building, her breath hitching as she watched the carnage unfold.
The beast roared in pain—as it's voice vibrated her very marrow of bones.
Cory was already a blur of motion. He closed the distance from his corner in an instant, wrenching the dagger free in a spray of dark volatile blood, just as the creature gathered itself to pounce.
Despite the wound, the feral thing recovered with unnatural speed. It leapt, attempting to pin Cory under its massive weight. Cory’s instincts flared; he didn’t just react, he anticipated.
The creature unhinged its maw, revealing rows of spectral fangs aimed for his head. Cory met the charge with the finesse of a seasoned warrior, bringing his dagger up in a flash. The beast’s teeth shrieked against the metal, locking them in a desperate, grinding stalemate.
At this range, Cory could see the creature’s true nature: its form was a shifting, translucent obsidian, an amorphous shape reminiscent of a feline predator. Spectral waves rifted across its hide, darkest at the core and fading to a ghostly grey at the edges.
With his free hand, Cory delivered a devastating punch into the beast’s exposed throat. It recoiled with a choked snarl, breaking the lock. Cory didn’t give it a second to breathe. He sidestepped, twisting behind the creature in a fluid motion and with his single, clean strike, the dagger severed the beast’s head as easily as if he were carving paper.
As the headless body twitched through its final throes, Cory dropped to one knee. He plunged his blade into the center of the spectral chest and, with a practiced twist, he ended it. Then he pried out a golden-brown, softly glowing crystal.
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This was the Toures core, that was what remained of the body.
Across the street, Taya’s knees hit the cobblestones. The moment the beast was dead and it's core was freed, the air totally changed around her.
The already immense pain, doubled. Something buried in the layers of the wraps of linen started to break free from its binds. The pain didn't just felt like a headache, rather it was like a rhythmic, agonizing thrum that vibrated through her entire body. Seconds later a boiling hot sensation spread to her eyes.
Every beat of light from the crystal felt like a hot needle threading through her nerves, the wraps straining, like a warning that it will explode out in any moment.
She clutched her head, her fingernails digging into those layers, as she fought to keep her very identity from unraveling.
Yet, even as the proximity of the crystal threatened to shatter her mind, a treacherous, primal part of her reached out for it. It was a sickening paradox. She didn't know what was happening, and wanted to stay away from it, yet at the same time she felt a magnetic hunger for it—a desperate need to swallow that warmth and let the pain finally go quiet.
"Come on, we have to go!" Cory urged, running toward her. "
"More of these creatures can be around here!"
He reached for her wrist as Cory stepped closer with the glowing Toures core in his hand.
Taya flinched back, her body jerking as if struck.
"Stay back!" she choked out, the words scraping against a throat tight with nausea.
Through the haze of white-hot needles behind her eyes, she forced herself to focus. Her gaze darted past him, locking onto the diary and the photograph lying in the dust. They were small, fragile things, nearly swallowed by the shadows of the alley.
She staggered away from him, lurching toward them. Her fingers clawed into the dirt, her nails scraping stone until they closed around the book and the worn paper.
But as Cory moved to help her, closing the gap, the frequency of the core intensified. The pressure in her skull hit a breaking point.
Shoving the items into her cloak with trembling hands, she tried to stand, to find the strength to bolt. "Keep... keep that core away..."
Her jewel-like eyes met his for a fraction of a second, pupils blown wide with agony. Then, the darkness at the edges of her vision rushed inward like a closing curtain. Her legs simply ceased to function beneath her.
"Whoa!" Cory lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the ground. She was dead weight in his arms, unconscious.
"Perfect," Cory muttered, hefting her limp form. He tucked the still-warm Toures core into his belt.
He looked down at her, his brow furrowing.
Everything about her was a question mark: the reason for her being alone at this time, the strange head wrapping, and that frantic, dive for a battered diary in the middle of a dangerous situation.
He’d come to this district to witness the struggles of ordinary people, and now he’d found someone whose story was written in a language of secrets he couldn't yet read.
Just another soul shattered by this world, he thought, a familiar, weary sympathy settling in his chest.
But his gaze drifted to the core at his hip. Why was she terrified of this? Is her collapse a reaction to the core itself?
With the woman cradled against his chest, he raised his wrist.
"Polo, change of plans. I'm extending my stay in this district.
"Tag me the nearest secure location. I have a civilian, she's non responsive. Will need an immediate shelter."
The reply came instantly, "Yes Boss, I have tagged the location, you can follow the route".
Soon the watch projected a faint green holographic arrow pointing down a side Alley.
Adjusting his grip on the unconscious woman, Cory finally moved.

