Moonshadow Abyss

The alley was deathly silent.

Jack's breathing remained heavy, his heartbeat pounding against his chest as if it were trying to break free.

The man's voice still echoed in his ears, each word like a sinister whisper, dragging him deeper into an unseen abyss.

Aisha scanned the surroundings cautiously. After confirming there were no ambushes, she slowly lowered her gun and turned to Jack.

"What are you thinking?" Her voice was low, carrying a hint of wariness.

Jack didn't answer immediately. He looked down at his palm—his blood had dried, but there was still a faint pain lingering beneath the skin.

The Hunter Organization wasn't just killing werewolves… They were creating them.

The thought sent a wave of unease and anger through him.

He had always believed he was just an unfortunate man who had awakened his werewolf blood, forced into a life of hunting and being hunted.

But what if that wasn't true?

What if he had been a part of their plans from the very beginning?

Aisha caught the hesitation in his expression and narrowed her eyes. "Jack, don't tell me you're actually starting to believe that bastard?"

Jack slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes dark and conflicted. "I don't know."

Aisha frowned. She didn't like that answer.

"You are who you are," she said firmly. "Don't let those lunatics mess with your head."

Jack studied her for a long moment before finally nodding. "…We need to leave."

Aisha didn't argue. She took the lead, swiftly guiding them out of the alley.

—

They moved through the winding backstreets, avoiding security cameras, until they reached the top floor of an abandoned apartment building.

The air inside was thick with the scent of damp rot, the corners littered with old furniture and scattered newspapers.

Aisha locked the door, pulled the curtains shut, and placed her gun on the table before turning to Jack with sharp eyes.

"Now, you can tell me," she said, crossing her arms. "What's on your mind?"

Jack was silent for a moment before he finally spoke. "What if they were telling the truth?"

Aisha's expression darkened.

"Don't tell me you actually believe that psychopath." She scoffed. "Jack, you're not one of them."

"But what if I was?" Jack's voice was low, tinged with something close to pain. "What if I was always meant to be their creation?"

Aisha studied him for a moment, then took a step closer and placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart.

"The way your heart beats, the way you think, the way you fight to survive—it's all you," she said quietly. "They can make werewolves, but they can't make you."

Jack stiffened slightly, her words hitting deeper than he expected.

"Remember this," she continued, her voice steady. "The Hunter Organization wants you, not because they own you, but because you've slipped out of their control."

Jack exhaled, his grip on his own thoughts finally steadying a little.

Aisha leaned back against the table, smirking. "Besides, if you let those psychos brainwash you, that means I wasted all that effort saving you."

Jack let out a dry chuckle, though there was still bitterness behind it. "So you only saved me to avoid wasting bullets?"

Aisha shrugged. "Obviously. Ammo's expensive."

Jack let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing just slightly.

But he knew this wasn't over.

His past, the true purpose of the Hunter Organization, the truth behind the 'E-Series' experiments—

These questions loomed over him like dark threads woven into a sinister web.

He needed to find the truth.

Even if that truth turned out to be worse than his nightmares.

—

3:15 AM

Jack didn't sleep well.

His mind was restless, tangled in thoughts that refused to settle.

At some point, he slipped into a dream.

A white room.

The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and suffocating. The atmosphere was cold—so cold it felt like his blood had frozen over.

He looked down at his hands.

Metal shackles bound his wrists, cold against his skin. Beneath the surface, faint gray veins pulsed like something unnatural was coursing through them.

A shadowy figure stood before him, dressed in a white lab coat. Their face was obscured in the dim light.

A low voice spoke:

"E-7, awakening test will now commence."

Then—

His hands changed.

Skin split open. Bones stretched. Fingernails sharpened into claws. His blood boiled, muscles tore and reformed.

A deep, guttural growl tore from his throat—a sound that was both agonizing and exhilarating.

Alarms blared.

A woman's voice screamed in panic, "He's losing control! Administer the suppressant—NOW!"

Figures rushed toward him. Instinct kicked in.

He raised a clawed hand and slashed—

Tearing through the nearest throat in an instant.

—

Thud!

Jack jolted awake, gasping for breath.

His chest heaved violently, sweat trickling down his skin. His heart pounded, his entire body trembling from the lingering sensation of the dream—

No.

Not a dream.

A memory.

He looked down at his hands. His nails had sharpened again, his palm aching faintly, as if the pain from the dream had followed him into reality.

"Jack?"

Aisha's voice cut through the silence. She was awake, watching him cautiously.

Jack inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down.

"…I'm fine," he muttered, but even he could hear the slight tremor in his voice.

Aisha studied him for a moment, then chose not to push further. Instead, she simply said, "Dawn's coming. We need to get out of this city."

Jack turned to the window. The sky outside was still cloaked in darkness, but a faint glimmer of light was creeping over the horizon.

They didn't have much time.

The Hunter Organization wouldn't stop hunting them.

And that mysterious man… wouldn't let them go so easily.

The truth was still buried in the shadows.

And they were walking straight into its depths.