CHAPTER 1041: THE GREATEST DISASTERS.

Cain stepped forward, blade low, eyes burning with something darker than fear.

"No," he murmured. "But I can end what should never have crawled into my city."

The creature’s limbs unfolded like spears, shattering stone as it lunged. The sound was sharp, metallic—like bone honed into murder. Cain met it head-on, steel grinding against its jagged arm. Sparks burst between them, small suns swallowed by the dark.

The impact rattled through his arms. This wasn’t just muscle or sinew—it was something deeper, something older. Its strength was borrowed from a well that mortals had no business drinking from.

Cain pivoted, rolling with the force, boots skidding across wet stone. His blade carved a long, silver arc toward the joint of its arm, but the creature twisted unnaturally, body folding in ways no anatomy should allow. The strike glanced off, splitting flesh that wasn’t flesh at all, leaking ichor that hissed where it touched the ground.

Behind him, the alley pulsed with chaos. Shadows writhed like living things as more limbs stretched from the dark. Not one monster—several, drawn by blood, by Cain’s refusal to bend.

"Hunter!" His voice cracked the tension, not as a cry, but as a command. From the far corner, an arrow whistled—thin, silver, precise. It buried itself into a stalker’s eye with a dull crunch. The thing convulsed, collapsing into itself like paper under flame.

"Two more inbound," Hunter called, his tone flat, controlled, as though counting bodies on a ledger.

Cain’s blade flashed again, cutting deep this time. The first creature shrieked—a sound that vibrated through bone, scraping the edge of madness. Its limbs lashed wildly, shattering a wall, sending stone and dust in all directions. Cain ducked under the debris, moving like water, sliding low before driving his shoulder into its torso. The impact rocked them both, and for an instant, Cain’s eyes caught the core of it—something pulsing behind ribs of black glass.

He didn’t hesitate. The blade thrust forward, a single decisive motion. Steel met resistance, then tore through. The creature screamed again, ichor raining in a black mist before the body folded inward, disappearing like smoke dragged into a void.

The alley went still. For a breath. Only a breath.

Then the ground trembled.

Susan’s voice cut in from the rooftops above. "Cain—don’t get comfortable."

He didn’t look up. He felt it already: the weight pressing against the edges of his senses. Something vast, crawling closer. The air grew heavy, thick with the stench of old blood and ash.

"Steve," Cain said.

"Working on it," came the reply, tinny through the comm bead in Cain’s ear. Static crackled under the words. "Signal interference’s spiking, but I can give you thirty seconds of blackout before the grid notices. After that, every eye in City Z will know."

"Thirty seconds," Cain repeated. It would have to be enough.

The tremor deepened. Cracks ran along the street as if the bones of the city were breaking. From those cracks, something rose—a silhouette too large for the alley, its edges blurred as though reality itself struggled to contain it. Limbs, too many to count, folded and unfolded with insect precision. Its head was a mask of jagged metal, faceless yet hungry.

Susan dropped down beside him, boots hitting stone without a sound. Twin blades slid free, glinting in the faint light of a streetlamp that flickered like a dying star. "That’s not a phantom," she said.

"No," Cain replied. His grip tightened on the blade. "That’s a message."

The thing didn’t roar. It didn’t need to. Its presence was a roar—the kind that tore through marrow, that spoke of extinction wrapped in silence. Around them, the remnants of smaller creatures retreated into the dark, bowing out like lesser gods before a greater one.

Cain stepped forward. He didn’t need Hunter’s angle or Susan’s steel to know this wasn’t a fight they could win—not here, not now. But retreat wasn’t an option, either. This wasn’t about victory. It was about making sure the thing bled enough to remember his name.

"Steve," Cain said again, eyes locked on the advancing shadow. "Cut the lights."

The alley plunged into darkness. For an instant, the city above seemed to vanish, replaced by nothing but black and the sound of things moving where things shouldn’t.

Then Cain moved—blade low, stride steady, his body a coiled promise.

The first clash was soundless. His blade carved through the dark, met by the grinding scrape of metal limbs. Sparks flew again, a brief constellation bursting in the void.

Hunter fired, the silver streaks flashing like lightning in a storm no one else could see. Susan danced around the beast’s flanks, her blades singing short, vicious hymns, carving shallow lines across a hide that healed too quickly.

Cain pressed in, reading the rhythm of its attacks—if there was one. The limbs struck in patterns that weren’t patterns, a chaos so precise it mocked human instincts. Each strike carried weight enough to pulp bone, but Cain was faster. He had to be.

Then the thing changed. Its limbs stopped reaching and started folding inward, reforming, reconfiguring. Cain saw it too late—the spike blooming from its torso like a spear thrown by a god. It slammed forward.

Pain tore white across his ribs as he twisted, narrowly avoiding a kill strike. The spear clipped him, ripping through leather and flesh. Heat flooded his side, but Cain didn’t falter. Pain was currency. He’d spent worse.

His blade arced high, and for a breath, time stretched thin. The edge bit deep into the creature’s shoulder. A hiss like boiling blood filled the dark as black ichor gushed, splattering the stones, burning through moss and grime.

"Hunter!" Cain barked.

"On it." The answer was a thunderclap—a bolt loosed from the rooftops, trailing a filament of light. It struck the wound Cain had opened. The impact flared bright, burning, cracking through the armored shell. For the first time, the thing recoiled, limbs retracting, body folding like a collapsing star.

Cain didn’t chase. He couldn’t. The blackout ended with a hum, light bleeding back into the alley. And with that light, the creature vanished—slipping into some fold between here and nowhere, leaving behind only the stink of its blood and the memory of how close it had come.

Silence returned. Heavy. Waiting.

Cain stood amid the ruin, blade hanging at his side, blood dripping from his ribs. Susan watched him, breath sharp, her blades slick and dark. Hunter descended from the shadows, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes unreadable.