Flashback:
The moon was swollen, heavy with silver light, when Gyu first heard the sound.
It was not a lion's roar. Nor the call of a leopard. It was something older. Something like the echo of claws scraping stone in another world.
He was young then, a warrior barely twenty five, his chest proud with the markings of initiation. The elders had sent him into the deep forest for the trial of solitude.
No weapons. No companions. Only his bare hands and his courage. To survive the night meant manhood. To fail meant the ancestors rejected you.
The trees bent in unnatural silence as he walked deeper. His ears caught the faint rhythm of paws against the earth, each step too heavy for any ordinary cat. The hairs on his arms rose. Gyu turned his head, and for the first time, he saw it.
The creature stepped from the darkness like a shadow woven into flesh. Its body was feline, sleek and muscled, but its size dwarfed any leopard.
Obsidian fur shimmered with streaks of glowing red, like cracks in stone filled with fire. Its eyes, violet, unearthly, locked with his, pinning him to the spot.
The elders had spoken of forest guardians. Spirits. Tricksters. But nothing had prepared him for this.
It moved without sound, circling him with the patience of eternity. Gyu's heart hammered, but he stood tall, refusing to kneel. His people had taught him one thing: fear was the true enemy.
The beast lunged.
Claws raked across his chest, tearing through skin like paper. He fell back, gasping, his body screaming in pain. Yet instead of finishing him, the creature crouched low, pressing its face close. Its breath was hot and metallic, reeking of blood. Then, with a slow deliberation, it sank its fangs into Gyu's shoulder.
Agony unlike any he had ever known ripped through him. His veins burned, his vision blurred, his heartbeat stuttered and surged like drums in battle. He screamed, but the forest swallowed the sound.
And then… darkness.
When he woke, the moon still hung above, but everything was changed. The wound on his shoulder glowed faintly, as though fire still lived in his flesh. His senses sharpened.
He could hear the flap of bat wings far away, smell the musk of antelopes miles off, feel the rhythm of the earth itself. His body, once broken, pulsed with impossible strength.
The creature was gone. But in its place, something had been left behind.
Gyu rose, trembling. He was no longer merely a man. He was something other. Something more.
The beast within had awakened.
Present Day:
Leo snapped awake in his apartment, the flash of memory still burning behind his eyes. For a moment, the scent of the African forest clung to him, though outside, the muffled horns of Chinese traffic carried the present back.
Rishi stirred beside him, her dark locks spilling across the pillow. Her hand reached instinctively to his chest. "The dream again," she murmured softly.
He nodded, his jaw tight. "It never leaves me."
Before she could answer, a knock echoed faintly at their door. Not heavy, but probing. Leona tensed immediately. She slipped from the bed, pulling on a robe, her senses sharp.
Through the peephole, she caught the sight of two figures. Suits. Not mafia. It was the Police.
"Stay calm," Leo whispered, pulling on his own shirt. His voice was steady, but beneath it, he felt the old fire stir.
Detective Jian Wu and Officer Mei Ling stood politely, but their eyes scanned the hallway with predator patience. Jian adjusted his tie, then knocked again.
Leo opened the door slowly, offering the calm smile of a man with nothing to hide. "Officers," he greeted, his accent deliberate but composed. "How may we help you?"
Jian studied him for a long moment before speaking. "We're following up on an incident in the district. You may have heard the commotion last night."
Leo feigned mild surprise. "No, officer. We slept early. We are new here, still adjusting."
Rishi appeared behind him, her smile warm, her posture relaxed. "Would you like some tea? My husband and I keep little, but we share what we have."
Jian's eyes narrowed slightly. Polite. Calm. Too calm. Yet nothing in their apartment hinted at violence. Only books, tea, simple furnishings. Still, something tugged at him.
"No, thank you," Jian said finally. "Just routine questions. If you see anything unusual… call us." He slid a card across the table by the door.
Leo accepted it with a nod, bowing slightly. "Of course, officer. We will."
As they left, Mei whispered, "Sir, they seem ordinary enough…"
Jian didn't answer. His eyes lingered on the closed door behind them. "Ordinary is the best disguise," he muttered.
That night, shadows moved.
The Zhao Syndicate struck swiftly, convinced they had found their prey.
Four black cars parked silently on the street outside Leo and Leona's building. Men spilled out, armed with knives, chains, and guns wrapped in cloth. At their head was Bao, Zhao's scarred lieutenant, the one who had sworn to bring the foreigners' heads back as trophies.
He motioned for silence, and the men crept up the stairwell. The neighbors, sensing trouble, stayed silent behind bolted doors.
Inside the apartment, Leo and Leona were already waiting.
They sat at the table, a single candle burning between them. Their faces calm, as if expecting guests.
The door burst open. Bao stormed in, his men flooding the room. "Foreigners," he growled, raising his blade. "You walk in shadows that do not belong to you. Tonight, your blood feeds the ground."
Leona rose first, graceful as a panther, her eyes glowing faintly. "You should have brought more men."
The fight was swift and brutal.
One man lunged at Leo with a chain. Leo caught it mid-swing, pulling the thug off his feet, slamming him into the wall with bone-cracking force. Another fired a pistol. Too slow. Leo moved like a blur, twisting the man's wrist until the gun turned back on its owner. The shot rang out, silenced by his scream.
Leona danced through her attackers with feline elegance. She disarmed a knife-wielder, turning his own blade into his throat with terrifying precision. She ducked beneath another's swing, her counter-strike a blur that left him gasping on the floor.
Bao roared and charged, his blade cutting through the candle flame, plunging the room into shadows. He struck with the strength of desperation. But Leo caught the blade in his bare hand. Blood dripped down his palm, yet his grip did not falter.
With a snarl, Leo wrenched the weapon free, tossing it aside like a toy. His golden eyes glowed in the dark, locking on Bao's trembling face.
"You came hunting beasts," Leo said, his voice low, thunderous. "Now you see them."
In seconds, Bao's scream joined the chorus of the fallen.
The apartment went silent again, save for the drip of blood across the floorboards. Leona wiped her hands delicately, her chest rising and falling with slow composure.
"They will not stop," she whispered.
Leo looked at the wreckage, at the broken men who thought themselves predators. His voice was quiet, but filled with certainty.
"Then neither will we."