The Predator In The Dark

The night stretched on, endless and suffocating. Lee Byung Hun moved through the forest like a shadow, his senses sharper than ever. Every breath of wind, every rustling leaf—it all felt like a warning.

His body still ached from the fight, but he ignored the pain. The village was still too far. If another enemy showed up, he couldn't afford to be careless.

But something felt off.

A presence. Watching. Waiting.

Byung Hun stopped and tightened his grip on his sword. His eyes swept the treeline. Nothing but darkness.

Then, a whisper of movement.

Too fast.

He barely had time to react before a blade shot toward his throat.

Clang!

Byung Hun deflected it by instinct, the impact rattling his arms. He staggered back, eyes locking onto his attacker.

The rogue from before.

The masked assassin.

The man didn't speak. His twin daggers gleamed in the dim moonlight, his stance low and relaxed—as if he had all the time in the world to kill.

Byung Hun steadied his breathing. He wasn't the same as before. He had killed now. He would survive.

The rogue disappeared.

Byung Hun's instincts screamed—above!

He barely dodged as the assassin dropped from a tree, daggers slashing in a deadly arc. One blade grazed his shoulder, slicing through fabric and skin.

Pain flared, but he didn't flinch.

Byung Hun countered with a thrust aimed at the rogue's chest.

A mistake.

The assassin twisted at an unnatural angle, slipping around the attack like water. In the same movement, his knee slammed into Byung Hun's ribs.

The impact stole his breath. He stumbled, but forced himself to stay upright.

"You're improving," the rogue murmured, voice like ice. "But not fast enough."

He attacked again, faster this time.

Byung Hun barely blocked, but the assassin was relentless. He struck from impossible angles, daggers flashing like silver fangs in the dark.

A cut across Byung Hun's forearm.

A nick on his thigh.

Small wounds, but they added up.

His vision blurred for a second. Poison?

The rogue smirked beneath his mask. "Your body is slowing down. I wonder how long you'll last before your legs give out."

Byung Hun gritted his teeth.

No. He refused to lose.

He shifted his stance, adjusting his grip. The rogue was fast, but his movements had a pattern. A rhythm.

Byung Hun just needed one opening.

The assassin lunged.

This time, Byung Hun didn't retreat. He stepped in.

The rogue's eyes widened—too late.

Byung Hun's sword slashed upward, forcing the assassin to block. The impact jolted them both—

And that's when Byung Hun let go of his sword.

For just a second.

Long enough to grab the rogue's wrist and twist.

A sickening crack.

The assassin hissed in pain as his right hand went limp, one dagger clattering to the ground.

Byung Hun didn't hesitate. He caught his falling sword and drove his knee into the rogue's ribs, sending him staggering back.

Now it was his turn.

He pressed forward, slashing relentlessly. The assassin dodged, but he was slower now. Desperate.

Then—an opening.

Byung Hun lunged. His blade pierced through flesh.

A gasp.

The rogue stumbled back, clutching his side. Blood dripped between his fingers.

For the first time, he looked uncertain.

"You..." he exhaled, voice strained. "You're not normal."

Byung Hun didn't reply. His body was screaming, his limbs growing heavier. The poison was spreading.

But he refused to collapse.

The assassin took a shaky step back. Then another.

And then—he laughed.

A low, chilling sound.

"You really are something," he mused. "A shame I wasn't ordered to kill you tonight."

Byung Hun's heart pounded.

Ordered?

Before he could react, the rogue vanished into the darkness, disappearing as swiftly as he came.

Byung Hun remained still, sword still raised.

Then, he swayed.

The poison was winning.

His knees buckled. The world tilted. His vision blurred—

A pair of hands caught him before he hit the ground.

Warmth.

Soft, unfamiliar.

A voice—gentle but firm.

"You're lucky I found you in time."

Byung Hun struggled to focus, his mind fading into unconsciousness.

The last thing he saw was a girl's face, illuminated by the pale glow of the moon.

Then, everything went dark