Elion ran through the cold night air. Somehow, the situation made it hard for him to breathe. His lungs felt sharp, and his legs hurt. His chest felt tight, but he kept pushing himself harder.

  ‘What are we thinking?’ He wondered, even though the rational part of him knew that, who in their right mind was going after a bear-man?

  Still, Jordan was ahead, moving fast as if he was the predator. The bear-man seemed as if he was the one fleeing for his life.

  The bear-man was barely holding together. Its monstrous form had nearly collapsed in on itself, its hulking limbs shrinking, the fur peeling back to reveal raw, pale skin underneath.

  Every step was agony—its body convulsed violently as bones cracked and twisted back into place. It was no longer fully a monster, but it wasn’t fully human, either. And somehow, that made it more terrifying.

  Jordan wasn’t slowing down. He was already ten steps ahead, vaulting over trash cans, dodging broken glass, eyes locked on their target like he wasn’t even questioning if this was a good idea.

  Elion, however, was questioning everything.

  “Jordan!” Elion gasped. “Are you serious right now?! We don’t even know what that thing is!”

  Jordan barely slowed. “Exactly! That’s why we can’t let him go!”

  Elion swore under his breath.

  Of course.

  Jordan would do this—chase the impossible or weird things. Rush into danger without a second thought. It didn’t matter that they had just watched a literal bear-man tear through a club full of people.

  That it had killed people.

  That it wasn’t supposed to exist.

  And yet—here they were.

  The bear-man stumbled forward, breathing heavily until it reached the end of an alley—it was basically a dead end. A towering brick wall cut off any escape. That was when it stopped.

  Elion barely managed to halt before crashing into Jordan’s back. “Why did you stop?” he whispered, pulse hammering.

  Jordan answered calmly, “Dead end.”

  Elion looked ahead and just noticed the dead end. “What should we do now?”

  Jordan did not answer. He was too focused on the creature in front of them.

  The bear-man stood a few feet away, breathing hard. He was covered in sweat, and his muscles shook as if he was struggling. He tightened his fists and moved his fingers nervously.

  He took a deep breath and slowly turned to face them.

  Elion saw his eyes first. Not the eyes of a monster. Not the crazed, bloodthirsty look of the thing that had just torn through Xylo Club.

  Just a man.

  A man who was afraid.

  Elion’s stomach twisted. What he was seeing now was not something that he had expected.

  “H..help… me.” The bear-man's voice was too rough. Imagine it as someone who has been shouting for a long time.

  Jordan paused and lowered his fists a bit. “What?” he asked, stepping forward. He could not feel the same danger coming from the man anymore.

  The man flinched. His fingers clawed at his own throat as if he was trying to rip something out.

  And that’s when Elion saw it—a ring.

  A thick black ring wrapped around the man’s trembling finger, veins of cracked darkness running through its surface. And from those cracks—black smoke leaked out.

  "What's that..." Elion’s breath hitched. That wasn’t normal smoke. It moved. It curled and coiled in the air like something alive.

  “Help… me… I don’t—“ The man shuddered violently, stepping forward, his body twisting, arms spasming. It was like he was being pulled.

  The man’s muscles locked, his head jerking unnaturally like something was forcing his movements. His eyes widened, flickering between them. His lips trembled.

  He said in a weak voice, “Run… Run… I... Can't...”

  Jordan had very little time to react when the man ran at him.

  "Wait—" Jordan wanted to speak, but he needed to avoid the first strike. He twisted his body just in time, but the second hit him—a brutal elbow to the ribs.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  He gasped and stepped back while holding his side. The man moved erratically as if he didn’t want to attack but couldn’t control himself.

  Elion’s pulse hammered. Jordan blocked two more wild, desperate strikes before a fist slammed into his jaw. Jordan reeled sideways, crashing against the alley wall.

  "Jordan!" Elion shouted in panic.

  The man closed the distance quickly and grabbed Jordan by the throat.

  Jordan gasped, struggling.

  The man looked shocked, his eyes wide. “Help… me…,” he said, his grip getting stronger. His whole body convulsed, veins darkening, the black smoke from the ring spiraling faster. He didn’t want to kill Jordan. But something inside him did.

  Elion had to move—now.

  But before he could—

  BANG.

  A gunshot split the night. Everyone was stunned.

  The bullet hit the man before he fell backward. He landed on the ground, gasping and holding his shoulder. Black smoke poured out of the ring quickly, moving like it was in pain.

  "Is the police here?" Elion turned sharply.

  A man stood at the entrance of the alley, mostly in the shadows. He was still and held a revolver at his side.

  His long, dark cloak moved in the breeze. He stood firmly in his boots as if he planned to stay.

  Based on his attire? Definitely not a cop.

  The brim of his worn cowboy hat shadowed his face, but Elion could only see his eyes—cold, calculating, and completely unbothered.

  Well, this wasn't just a random guy with a gun.

  Anyone would share the same thought that this man looked like a hunter.

  Elion’s brain scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing tonight.

  A half-dead were-bear (because what else could you call that thing?), a cowboy hunter, and Jordan, standing way too close to the guy with the gun.

  Yeah. This night had officially gone off the rails.

  'Okay. Think,’ Ethan’s mind raced.

  If one wrong move is made, anyone in this alley could end up dead. And knowing his luck, that anyone would absolutely include him.

  The cowboy looked dangerously casual, as if killing bear-man or any kind of beast-men was just part of his nine-to-five.

  And… the black smoke still curling from the ring made Elion’s stomach churn. Whatever the hell had just happened—it wasn’t over.

  But priority number one? Prevent Jordan from saying something incredibly stupid, or he might anger the cowboy.

  Elion turned slightly, already anticipating disaster.

  Jordan coughed, still gripping his throat. “What the hell—”

  Yep. Called it.

  The man on the ground groaned, trembling, struggling to get up.

  The cowboy sighed. “What a mess.” His voice was slow and careful as if he had plenty of time.

  Jordan sat up, anger flashing in his eyes. “You—what the hell is wrong with you?!”

  He walked closer to the cowboy and continued his rage. “He needed help! He wasn’t trying to kill us—he was fighting something!”

  The cowboy didn’t react. Instead, he raised the gun again.

  “Wait! Wait! Don’t shoot!” Elion barely had time to process before—

  BANG.

  The bullet struck the man’s forehead. Blood splashed. It was crazy to see this scene. His body jerked once. Then—collapsed.

  Silence.

  Elion felt like vomiting—again. Even though he had seen too much killing tonight, he couldn’t get used to it yet.

  Well, it was the opposite for Jordan. He was raging.

  Jordan’s fists clenched. “You—”

  The cowboy finally looked at them. “He was already gone.”

  Jordan’s breathing sharpened, furious. “You don’t know that!”

  The cowboy didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward, kneeling beside the now-lifeless body.

  Elion barely registered the movement before he saw the black ring crack further. More smoke poured out—thick, unnatural. And instead of fading... it moved.

  It drifted toward the cowboy.

  Elion’s breath hitched.

  The cowboy wore the same ring. But unlike the dead man’s, his was pristine. Golden black.

  And as the black smoke reached it, the ring absorbed it. The tendrils sank into the surface like ink dissolving in water.

  The dead’s man ring? Lesser smoke coming out from it.

  Elion’s stomach turned.

  The cowboy picked up the dead man’s ring, tossing it into his sack. A metallic rustling noise followed.

  Elion’s mind whirled. Based on the sound, the sack wasn’t just carrying one ring.

  Or ten.

  It was full of them.

  Jordan’s voice was low, dangerous. “What are you?”

  The cowboy dusted off his coat. “A cleaner.”

  Jordan’s fists shook. “That’s what you call this? Cleaning up?”

  The cowboy shrugged. “You boys saw too much. This… will be a trouble.”

  Jordan took a step forward, trembling. “You just executed a guy..." He raised his voice as he said, "And you think we’re gonna pretend we didn’t see that?!”

  The cowboy sighed, adjusting his hat. “I think you’ll try... For your own good.”

  Elion swallowed hard. His entire body screamed at him to leave. He wanted to tell Jordan to walk away. But something inside him knew—it was already too late.

  The cowboy lifted his sack over his shoulder, the metallic rings inside shifting. He looked at them one last time. “Be careful, boys. You’re not ready for what—”

  The cowboy barely turned before the brick wall behind them exploded. The force sent chunks of debris flying, brick and mortar crumbling like wet sand. Dust filled the alley, and from within the wreckage, something huge emerged.

  Elion barely had time to process it before he saw it.

  A large, bull-headed figure stands at least seven feet tall, with strong muscles. Steam came out from its nostrils. Its hooves clicked on the pavement, and its thick skin shone in the dim light of the alley.

  Elion believed this wasn’t just a mindless beast after everything that had happened tonight and how near-impossible it was for a bull to be roaming in the city.

  It was definitely a guy.

  Well, a bull-man guy.

  Because, of course, after a bear-man and a cowboy, the universe had to throw in a Minotaur-looking nightmare just to really mess with them.

  Elion groaned internally. 'Oh, fantastic. My night just keeps getting better.'

  It wore something—tattered, battle-worn pants like it had once been human. Chains hung loosely from its massive wrists, clinking as it snorted, then lowered its head.

  And then, without warning, it charged.

  Not at Elion.

  Not at Jordan.

  But, at the cowboy.

  The impact was devastating. The cowboy barely had time to shift before the bull-man’s horned skull slammed into his chest, sending him skidding backward. His boots dragged against the pavement, his long coat billowing as he fought to stay upright.

  But the real problem?

  His sack.

  He lost hold of it; it fell through the air and hit the ground with a loud bang.

  That was when Elion could see it.

  Rings. Everywhere.

  The alley was suddenly filled with dozens—no, hundreds—of rings of different colors scattering across the pavement. Some rolled away into the shadows, others clinked against broken brick, their eerie glow flickering in the dim alley light.

  Elion's breath caught in his throat.

  Jordan took a step forward, eyes locked—not on the rings, not even on the bull-man. But... on the cowboy.

  Elion swallowed hard. 'Great. Just great.' He had no idea what was happening anymore, but one thing was clear—

  Jordan wasn’t just watching.

  He was waiting.