Chapter 18: The First Cull

The corpse at my feet was barely warm when I crouched and examined his clothes. Functional, dark, unassuming—sufficient. I stripped him quickly, changing out of my own ruined shirt. The fresh fabric clung oddly to my skin, and for a brief moment, I studied myself.

The contours of the body… the bones… the proportions…

Sixteen.

Not just young. Adolescent.A child, in the eyes of most.

I ran my hand across my arms, chest, neck. The softness. The absence of hardened muscle. This wasn't the form I had when I woke in the apartment. It had regressed further.Fascinating.And possibly… useful.

While my mind turned over the implications, another door emerged from the far wall. Silent, seamless—just there. I rose, retrieved the knife from the dead boy's hand, and walked toward it.

The handle felt colder than before. Or perhaps my blood was simply warmer.

I opened the door.

The next room was already occupied—five others, arranged in loose awareness of one another.

Two women. Three men.

The moment I stepped through, all eyes turned to me. Most of them curious. Some amused. A few calculating.

One of the men, burly and older, let out a rough chuckle.

"Damn, they're letting kids in now? Guess age really doesn't matter anymore."

I stepped forward slowly, assuming a slightly hunched posture, deliberately softening my voice. Something between naïveté and uncertainty.

"Excuse me… could someone explain what's going on?"

The muscular man laughed again, louder this time.

"Cut the act, kid. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't gutted someone. Everyone in this room's crossed a line. So why don't you drop the innocent act and show us your teeth?"

I lowered my head.

So much for subtlety.

Just as I considered how to respond, the room itself answered for me.

Glowing letters scorched themselves into the surrounding walls—lines of radiant crimson text:

"Six have entered. Only three shall leave."

The words hung in the air like judgment.

Everyone looked around.

And then the brawler lunged.

He came at me like a charging beast, hands raised, teeth bared.

Too slow. Too obvious.

Before his momentum could close the distance, I stepped forward and drove the concealed knife straight across his throat. His momentum carried him into his own death. I pivoted.

One of the women—young, auburn-haired, wide-eyed—stood to my left.

She never even screamed.The blade went between her brows and sank deep.

Two dead. In seconds.

The room froze.

Three remained.

I knelt beside the bodies, placed my hands on their chests, and drank. The warmth of life left them in waves, curling into my limbs like threads of stolen time.

Then I stood and faced the others.

"Which of you," I asked in a voice stripped of warmth, "wants to die without pain?"

The three blinked. One woman in her forties. Thin. Nervous. The kind that survives by avoiding attention.

She didn't hesitate.

She turned and grabbed one of the men beside her—and with a fluid motion, snapped his neck.

I watched her with a mix of surprise and approval. She was efficient. Clean. Unsentimental.

Useful.

She looked at me the same way.

The final man stood paralyzed, horror locked into his expression.

"You… you're all monsters," he said. "How can you just—just kill—like it's nothing?!"

Hypocrite.

Before I could respond, the woman turned and kicked his throat sideways. His head jerked unnaturally, and he collapsed without sound.

I studied her again. She was lean, yet strong. Eyes sharp. Too sharp to be a civilian.

A fighter. Perhaps even a martial artist. Or something worse.

She watched me back. Not with fear—but with a kind of curiosity. One that said, "You're dangerous… but you might be useful."

A mirror of my own thoughts.

"Your name?" I asked.

She tilted her head slightly. Calculating.

Then nodded with a coolness that bordered on regal.

"Elairen," she said. Her voice was calm. Polished. Unafraid.

Fitting.

We stood, five corpses between us, blood already drying into the stone beneath.

Then—another door appeared. Seamless. Silent. Beckoning.

We looked at one another.

Then, without a word, we walked toward it—two predators, bound by violence and necessity.