Amidst the Waves [Wuthering Waves]

The night was quiet, a breezy stillness that lulled even the most watchful into a false sense of calm. The wind carried the mingling cries of nocturnal creatures, their cacophony a backdrop to what felt like another ordinary evening.

Yet, as the hours stretched on and the night settled over the Yang Niu village, something unnatural began to seep in.

It wasn't the darkness that crept through the narrow alleys and over the rooftops. It was something else entirely.

"Smoke?!"

The startled cry came from one of the Fractsidus members, who bolted upright from his resting place. His eyes darted around the room, his instincts screaming at him as the acrid scent of burning wood invaded his senses.

Beyond the thin walls of the house, flames danced against the night sky, their orange glow painting the village in flickering shades of chaos. The smoke thickened, curling through the air in menacing tendrils, choking out the stars above.

"What the hell is going on?" another voice barked as more of the crimson-cloaked warriors stirred from their slumber, their confusion deepening.

Shouts began to rise, each more frantic than the last, as the reality of the situation set in. The Yang Niu village, their temporary haven, was ablaze.

The fire spread with an unnatural ferocity, consuming everything in its path as if driven by its own will.

"Where are the others?!" one of them demanded, his voice breaking through the crackling of the flames.

"They were in the eastern quarter!" another replied, coughing as the smoke clawed at his lungs. "But there's no sign of—"

"AAAH!"

A blood-curdling scream tore through the smoky air, freezing the Fractsidus warriors in their tracks. The sound was raw, filled with agony, and it shattered the chaos of the burning village.

"What was that?!" one of them barked, already reaching for his weapon.

"Over there!" another shouted, pointing toward the source of the cry.

Weapons were drawn, and they charged toward the disturbance, their boots crunching against scorched earth and splintered wood.

As they approached, the scene that unfolded before them brought even the most hardened among them to an abrupt halt.

Their leader, the Fractsidus Executioner, stood at the forefront, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on a grotesque spectacle.

A boy—barely older than six—crouched low over the lifeless body of one of their comrades.

His navy hair was matted with blood, his pale yellow eyes gleaming with an unholy light as he bit into the flesh with the voracity of a starved animal. The wet, sickening sound of teeth tearing through muscle filled the air.

The warriors recoiled in disbelief.

"What… what is that?" one of them stammered, his voice betraying a rare hint of fear.

The irony of the scene wasn't lost on them. The Fractsidus, genetically modified mutants of humans and Tacet Discord had long embraced their predatory nature, feasting on humans and their wills without hesitation.

Yet now, the roles seemed reversed. The prey had become the predator and the sight of a human devouring one of their own sent a ripple of unease through the group.

And amidst the group, it was the Executioner's reaction that was quite peculiar.

It wasn't the act of cannibalism that rattled the Executioner. No, his eyes were fixed on the boy's neck, where a Tacet Mark now resided—a vivid, pulsating scar that should have been impossible.

'He shouldn't be alive.' The Executioner's mind raced, struggling to reconcile what he saw with what he knew to be true.

That boy, the waste, had been killed by his hand. And yet, there he was, alive and consuming one of their own like a beast unleashed.

As if sensing the Executioner's thoughts, the boy straightened, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He patted his stomach and let out a small burp, a twisted parody of satisfaction.

"Now I'm full," he said, his voice calm but dripping with venom.

He rose to his feet, the glow of the inferno behind him casting his shadow long and jagged against the ground. The ruined hut stood silhouetted in the firelight, embers swirling in the air like ghostly fireflies.

The boy's pale yellow eyes swept over the remaining thirteen Fractsidus warriors, his gaze lingering on each one before finally landing on the Executioner.

A single tear of blood streaked down his cheek, carving a path through the grime and ash that clung to his skin. His expression was cold, yet his eyes burned with scorn and something far more dangerous—wrath.

"—!!?" Momentarily, The Executioner was stunned by the sheer intensity of those eyes. His grip tightened around his blades as his thoughts steadied, pushing through the storm of disbelief.

This didn't feel like the boy he had dismissed as a waste; this was something entirely different. Perhaps... a new specimen, a mutant.

The Executioner sneered beneath his mask, his voice cutting through the crackling fire. "Capture him alive. He'll make an excellent additional gift for Lord Overseer."

The words ignited a spark of greed among the Fractsidus warriors. The promise of a handsome reward for delivering this anomaly fueled their malice, and with predatory zeal, they charged toward the boy.

Weapons gleamed in the firelight as the horde moved with practised precision. Their every step betrayed their confidence, their belief that they, the hunters, would overpower the boy who dared defy them.

But Kyorin stood unmoving, unflinching in the face of their assault. His pale yellow eyes flickered with quiet intensity as he reached out—not with his hands, but with his senses. He felt the resonance that thrummed in the air around him, his understanding of it deepening with every passing moment.

"Hmm… so to use that… the frequency should be around something like…" His thoughts were interrupted by a deafening blast.

Boom!

A gunner fired, the shot striking Kyorin squarely and engulfing him in an explosion of icy blue light. The ground beneath him cracked and splintered as a freezing mist billowed outward, enveloping the area in a frosty haze.

The gunner lowered his weapon, his grin visible even through the mask. "It's just a cryogenic blast. Don't worry—he's frozen solid."

The other warriors paused, their eyes fixed on the dissipating mist. For a moment, it seemed as though the fight had ended before it could truly begin.

But then, a voice echoed from within the cloud of dust. "Are you sure about that?"

A vivid red light tore through the haze, illuminating the battlefield with an otherworldly glow. The conversation of the Fractsidus warriors died in their throats as a palpable, suffocating pressure washed over them.

From the smoke, Kyorin stepped forward, his figure wreathed in a sinister aura that flickered like bloodstained flames. His navy hair clung to his face, and his pale yellow eyes now gleamed with a predatory, otherworldly light as a faint sound echoed admist the wuthering night.

*Thump-Thump*

It was faint at first, the rhythm soft and elusive. The Fractsidus warriors exchanged confused glances, their faces masked by their hazard masks. The sound seemed to echo within them, a peculiar thudding that didn't belong.

*Thump-Thump*

There it was again—louder, more insistent this time. They felt it beneath their ribs, a pulse that didn't match theirs. Hesitation crept at them momentarily, their primal instincts stirring before their minds could catch up.

Then came the realization.

It wasn't an external sound.

It was their hearts.

Their hearts had begun to pound, slow and deliberate, each beat resonating with an unnatural weight.

*Thump*

A dread unlike anything they'd known crept into their chests, spreading its cold fingers through their veins.

Their senses screamed at them to move, to fight, to do something—anything—but their limbs felt heavy, as though shackled by invisible chains.

The Executioner's eyes narrowed behind his mask, confusion flickering in his gaze. He also felt the strange, delayed recognition of fear settling deep within his core.

It was the epitome of terror, clawing at his resolve, a whisper in the dark that grew louder with the beat of his heart.

The dense air, heavy with malice. It was suffocating. Each breath became a laborious task as though the atmosphere itself sought to crush their spirits.

One by one, the warriors faltered. Weapons trembled in their hands, and beads of sweat rolled down their foreheads despite the cool night air.

Just then, the Executioner's roar shattered the eerie hold of fear over his men, his voice sharp and commanding. "Don't be fooled by his tricks! This is likely some Resonance ability—a cheap illusion to throw us off!"

His words struck a chord with the Fractsidus warriors, reigniting their courage. The sheen of hesitation in their eyes was replaced by a ruthless determination, fueled as much by greed as by their need to survive. They tightened their grips on their weapons, their gazes locking onto Kyorin with predatory focus.

"Attack!" the Executioner bellowed, his voice cutting through the night like a whip.

The warriors charged ahead, unleashing gunfire, drawing swords, and hoisting their war hammers to strike down a single child. A tidal wave of chaos and rage loomed over Kyorin. But before they could reach him, he made his move.

Kyorin closed the gap between them in a blurring motion, and his speed enhanced to an almost supernatural level. His hand shot out, grabbing one warrior's weapon and twisting it with enough force to shatter the blade.

Before the others could react, he delivered a devastating strike to the warrior's chest, sending him flying into the burning wreckage of a nearby hut.

Kyorin's movements were unrelenting, his strikes landing with an eerie, mechanical precision. His hands grasped a scattered weapon—a fractured blade discarded by one of the fallen—and held it aloft.

The macabre aura surrounding him shifted, condensing and writhing as it enveloped the weapon. A sinister light emanated from his Tacet Mark, glowing fiercely on his neck for the first time since his awakening.

The glow pulsed in rhythm with the beating of his Slaughter Heart, resonating with the aura until it reached a fever pitch as he thought: 'Let's try this new technique out.'

*HUM!*—The blade in Kyorin's hand seemed to come alive, the crimson light transforming into an inky, rippling essence.

It clung to the weapon like a liquid shadow, imbuing it with an almost otherworldly presence: [Ordane of the Strix]

The weapon felt impossibly light in his grip, yet its power was unmistakable, as though it carried the unstoppable momentum of a raging river.

The blade sang in Kyorin's hands, the Resonance energy carving a brutal path through the remaining Fractsidus goons. Each arc of Havoc energy tore through the air, leaving trails of chaos and devastation in its wake.

The battlefield was painted in shades of crimson and shadow, the cacophony of combat replaced by the eerie silence of the dead.

Kyorin exhaled, his grip on the weapon steady despite the fatigue weighing on him. The technique, while devastating, had drained him.

"Damn you brat!" A fatigued voice shouted.

He glanced at the lone survivor—the Fractsidus Executioner—whose body bore the marks of battle but whose fiery eyes betrayed no sign of surrender.

The Executioner sneered, blood dripping from his lips as he steadied himself. "You've impressed me, boy. But this ends now. I'll kill you, even if it's the last thing I do."

But before he could charge, a sudden force struck him from behind. The Executioner stumbled forward, a look of pure shock on his face. Kyorin's gaze shifted to the source of the attack, his grip tightening on the weapon.

A girl stepped forward, her dishevelled figure illuminated by the flickering flames of the wreckage. It was the kidnapped girl—the one who had been the catalyst for all this chaos. She stood with an air of triumph, her chest heaving as she struggled to steady her breath.

"That was incredible!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing with an almost childlike glee. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Kyorin. "You were amazing out there! A true hero!"

Her words were effusive, her tone full of admiration, but Kyorin's eyes narrowed. Beneath the veneer of her gratitude, he sensed something else—a sliver of greed, a trace of calculation. It was faint but unmistakable, woven into the fabric of her praise like a discordant note in a melody.

"My name's Hu Li," she said, extending her hand with a wide smile.

Kyorin's aura, which had cloaked him moments before, receded, concentrating back on the sword. Hu Li's eyes flickered to the weapon, her expression momentarily betraying her thoughts.

She wasn't looking at him anymore—she was looking at the sword, a glint of avarice flickering in her gaze.

Kyorin's expression remained neutral as he reached out, his hand hovering near hers. She hesitated for a moment, her smile faltering as he bypassed her hand and instead seized her wrist.

"Eh?" was all she managed before he spun her around with a sudden, brutal force.

The Executioner, who had been recovering his footing, swung his blade in reflex—too fast to stop, too late to realize. The strike landed squarely on Hu Li, shredding her body into three.

"AH—"

Her scream echoed through the night, a desperate, guttural cry that was abruptly silenced as her lifeless form crumpled to the ground.

The Executioner froze, his eyes widening in horror as he grasped what he had done. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed human—regret etched into his features. "No... NO!" he bellowed, his voice breaking with despair.

Kyorin, unfazed, allowed the aura to reemerge, now fully concentrated on the blade. The macabre energy pulsed in rhythm with his heart, each thump reverberating through the tense air. He raised the weapon, his voice calm yet brimming with finality.

"Go to hell," he said, and with one last swing, he cleaved through the Executioner.

The force of the strike sent the Executioner flying, his body tumbling across the ground before coming to rest several meters away. Blood pooled beneath him, his breaths shallow, his end near.

But even as the light was fading from his eyes, he was not finished. From within his tattered cloak, he retrieved a whistle and brought it to his lips—*Phee*—the sharp, piercing sound cut through the air, carrying with it an unnatural, discordant hum.

In the distance, the air trembled, the hum growing louder as the Executioner smiled through bloodstained teeth. "I'll be waiting," he rasped before the light finally left his eyes.

Kyorin stood motionless, the eerie silence of the aftermath broken only by the whistle's haunting echo. His gaze remained fixed on the Executioner's lifeless body, his grip tightening on the blade as he prepared for a restless night as myriads upon myriads of Tacet Discords emerged from the shadows.

"This is bad." Kyroin breathlessly uttured.

To be continued...

****

Technique: Oradane of the Strix—coats the weapon in the wielder's Resonance energy, making it lighter and more fluid in the wielder's hand while imbuing each strike with the overwhelming weight akin to an unstoppable flowing river.

Note: Diminishes the reserved resonance energy very quickly when used.