The Hunters’ Group
The Hunters' Group
[Henrique's Perspective]
The sound of engines echoed from afar. Henrique rushed up to the rooftop, sword strapped to his back, eyes slicing through the horizon.
Three makeshift armored trucks approached, spraying mud and dust. Black flags with scratched-out symbols flapped in the wind.
"Hunters…" Kiala murmured, appearing beside him.
"You know who they are?"
She nodded.
"They're veterans of the Fall. They survived four dimensional breaches. Some sold their souls for power. Others… just thirst for blood."
Henrique descended the stairs with a heart ablaze.
It wasn't fear burning in his chest.
It was the past.
[At the shelter entrance]
The vehicles stopped, and eleven people stepped out — armed with bone spears, magic pistols, and armor made of monster leather.
Leading them was a woman with one side of her head shaved, the other a cascade of charcoal-black hair. Golden, beast-like eyes and a wide smile.
"Henrique Chagas… still alive?"
Henrique froze.
"Rosa."
She walked up to him and embraced him — like one greeting an old flame… or a mortal rival.
"I thought you died with your honor."
"I did. A few times. But the will to protect my own brought me back."
She laughed loudly.
"You still talk like in the old days."
Kiala watched them from afar. Silent. But alert.
[Sónia's Perspective]
Sónia was helping distribute food to the newcomers. Some were respectful, others — predators in human skin.
One in particular — a young man with a cold gaze named Darlan — stared at her like someone selecting a rare object.
"What are you looking at?" she asked sharply.
"A jewel in a poor shelter. You should come with us. The world out there is for the strong."
"And you seem too weak to survive even in here."
He laughed. But his eyes said something else: danger.
[Silas' Perspective]
Silas observed the group of hunters with a mix of irritation and excitement.
"The Empress wouldn't send this many pawns… unless the board is about to flip."
Deep within the shelter, he was preparing a new ritual with his followers.
"The Hollow Flame needs fresh blood. The harvest ritual begins tonight. One sacrifice for one pact. A body for each lost name."
He lit a black incense stick.
And whispered into the shadow:
"I offer what remains of the child named Miro. In exchange… I want the power to kill Henrique."
[Miro's Perspective]
Miro sat in the mirror temple, rebuilt with more symmetry — as if he was slowly understanding the geometry of madness.
He tried speaking to the mirror.
"You?"
But the reply didn't come from the mirror.
It came from behind him.
"Don't summon what you don't understand, little mirror. The echo hears all… and sometimes, it answers before the voice."
Miro turned. No one was there.
But something had been left on the floor: a symbol drawn in dried blood. An eye pierced by three spears.
He touched the symbol, and the ground trembled.
[The Wanderer's Perspective]
The wanderer summoned Henrique, Rosa, and Samuel for a private reading.
"The book has opened to the second page. And it wasn't written by Lívia."
They all leaned in.
'Henrique Chagas. Father of the Echo. Bearer of the Wandering Crystal. You are not just what remains… You are what will remain when all falls.'
Henrique went pale.
"That… that can't be written there."
"It is," the wanderer replied. "And there's more."
He turned the page. A drawing appeared in living ink: a heart split in half by a crystal sword. On one side, Miro. On the other… an invisible woman.
Henrique touched the image.
"Who is she?"
The wanderer answered:
"The true face of the Empress. — The one even she no longer remembers."
[Final Perspective – Rosa with Henrique]
That night, Rosa sat beside Henrique outside the shelter.
"Do you still blame yourself?"
"Every day."
"You shouldn't. She chose you. She betrayed you. And she cursed you. — But you're still standing."
Henrique looked up at the stars.
"The question is… for how much longer?"
Rosa gripped his hand tightly.
"For as long as it takes."
And far away, unseen by them, Silas lit the first sacrifice candle.
The blood was about to flow.