"Everything has its price. The question is: are you willing to pay it—with yourself?"
The Blood Moon hung above Ashendel like an open wound, its crimson glow seeping into every corner of the mist-drenched city. Shadows stretched long and twisted across decaying buildings, while hollow-eyed souls wandered beneath the moon's haunting light.
Vale Ashwood stood alone in the middle of a cracked cobblestone street, his coat tugged by the biting wind. His eyes remained fixed on the glowing orb, its blood-red hue reflecting in his vacant gaze.
He had seen the Blood Moon many times before, but tonight… tonight, it was different. Tonight, he found it beautiful.
Dressed in a tattered black-and-white suit, the fabric worn thin by time and countless battles, he was the very picture of a man who had lived too long on the brink of survival. His white shirt, yellowed at the edges, frayed at the cuffs, spoke of a life that had long since forsaken luxury. Beneath his coat, hidden against his ribs like a second heartbeat, was a rusted revolver.
A rare smile tugged at his lips, fleeting but genuine. Then, his gaze shifted.
There they were.
Children—pale, ragged, their skin ghostly white, their black hair tangled like old threads. They crouched around a corpse, tearing into it with unsettling silence. Their empty eyes never once lifted from their grim meal.
Vale's smile vanished.
He spoke softly, as though the words were an ancient mantra that had long since become second nature.
"If kindness could feed me, I'd be a saint.This suit? My only one.There are no gifts in this world.If I must kill to survive—if I must lose myself—Then so be it.That's justice."
A voice broke through the fog, cutting through the silence.
"Vale Ashwood?"
He turned, his eyes narrowing as the mist parted. A woman stood beneath a wrought-iron arch, bathed in the glow of the Blood Moon. Her eyes shimmered like molten gold, her expression unreadable.
"I'm Juli," she said, her voice soft yet commanding. "The Hunter's Association is expecting you."
Vale's gaze lingered on the children, their shadows twisted and dark, and then shifted to the woman. His red eyes met hers—silent, calculating.
"Survival is enough," he thought, and stepped through the gate.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old stone and dried blood, each breath heavy with the weight of history.
"You're here to be tested," Juli said, guiding him to a stone table. "To see if you're worthy of the Blood Quest."
Vale said nothing. His fingers brushed the cold metal surface, instinctively grazing the grip of his revolver before pulling away.
Juli stepped back, her movements precise and deliberate. She drew a silver knife from the folds of her cloak. Its edge gleamed in the pale moonlight.
"I'll make a small cut," she said. "If your blood darkens—if it deepens unnaturally in the moonlight—then you're ready."
The blade pressed against his skin. A single drop of blood fell, followed by another. And then more, each drop steady and relentless. Slowly, the blood grew darker—redder—and then, it blackened.
Juli's eyes narrowed, a somber smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You're lucky," she murmured, her voice almost sorrowful. "But I'd call it a curse. Less than ten percent survive the Blood Quest. And fewer still remain whole."
She paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
"Do you still want to be a hunter?"
Vale met her gaze, calm, but something broken shimmered behind his eyes—something fractured that he could never quite heal.
"Everyone dies," he said, his voice a low rasp. "From hunger. From fear. From silence.I choose to die on my own terms.People call themselves perfect—superior.But we're not even perfect enough to trust ourselves."
Juli said nothing. She simply turned and led him down a dark, narrow corridor, past flickering gaslamps and faded paintings. The walls seemed to press in around them, the air growing colder with every step. The corridor twisted and wound, leading them further into the heart of the Hunter's domain.
They arrived at an altar—black, jagged, made of bone and obsidian, stark against the crimson moonlight.
Juli handed him a blade—its silver edge sharp and deadly.
"Spill your blood on the altar. Sacrifice what you are. If the Moon accepts, you'll enter the Quest."
Vale didn't hesitate. Without a word, he slit his palm open and pressed it to the altar. His blood pooled quickly, soaking into the dark stone.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then, the ground beneath him cracked. The stone shifted, and the mist roared to life, swallowing him whole.