Morning came—but New Orleans was anything but calm.
The city was still choking on the chaos of the night before. News anchors repeated the same footage on a loop like broken records. Blurry phone videos flooded social media, all grainy and unstable—shaky glimpses of a massacre, a monster, and two mysterious figures caught in the aftermath.
Conspiracy theories exploded online, from government experiments to alien invasions. Everyone had a theory. No one had the truth. And in the middle of it all—far from the circling helicopters and the cordoned-off downtown streets—sat Raymond, very much not enjoying his morning.
"What the hell am I watching?"
He looked like someone who should've been in a hospital bed, not upright at a kitchen table. His left shoulder was strapped tight in layers of gauze and medical tape, the bone beneath still raw and splintered from the bear-man's brutal strike. He wore a sleeveless undershirt—stained with sweat and old blood—cut open along the injured side to avoid pressure on the wound.
Raymond wasn't just built like a tank—he looked like he could bench press one. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a neck that looked like it belonged to a pro wrestler. But right now, his usual intimidating presence was dulled by exhaustion. Dark circles hung under his eyes. His jaw, dusted with a few days' worth of stubble, was locked tight in frustration.
A faint scar traced down his right cheek, a gift from an old fight no one talked about. His short black curls were messy, flattened on one side from sleeping badly on the couch, and his skin—usually warm-toned and healthy—had lost some of its color.
Still, he wasn't lying in a hospital bed.
Because instead of staying overnight like the doctors ordered, he'd come home. Not out of stubbornness but necessity—to take a medicine.
The medicine had been in his family for generations—a bitter tonic kept in unmarked bottles and hidden in the back of a locked cabinet. Raymond had always hated the stuff. His grandfather swore by it. His mom used to pour it down his throat when he was a kid and then bribe him with candy to stop the gagging.
Last night, though, there was no candy. Just the desperate hope it would work. He'd choked down three glasses. The taste was like drinking fire mixed with rust. His body had shivered from the inside out—but it worked. Or, at least, it was working enough for him to move. The pain in his shoulder was no longer screaming—just whispering through clenched teeth.
Now, hours later, he was hunched at the kitchen table, jaw clenched, his left arm limp in a sling. The apartment looked like a war zone—papers everywhere, empty energy drink cans, a half-eaten sandwich hardening beside a bottle of untouched painkillers.
Not that he could eat. His stomach was too busy tying itself in knots.
"I don't get it…" he muttered, staring blankly at the muted TV.
The news chyron scrolled across the bottom of the screen again:
"Xylo Club Massacre—Two Young Men Still Missing."
Raymond's hand twitched, tapping a frustrated rhythm on the tabletop. Not out of boredom. Not out of habit. But because he couldn't sit still while the people who'd saved his life were being hunted.
"Where the hell did they go?"
Elion. Jordan.
They had fought. Risked everything. Without them, the body count would've been so much worse. And now the city was treating them like criminals. He let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
"Of course they are. Makes perfect sense. Just blame the guys who actually fought the monster."
His voice was dry. Drenched in sarcasm. But there was something else underneath it, too—a heat. A storm was gathering. The police had CCTV footage. Caught Elion and Jordan chasing the bear-man into the night. But no one had seen what came next. No one had released the real footage.
The portal.
The beast-men.
The truth.
All the public had were two more dead bodies. A couple of mangled officers. And no suspects in sight. So naturally, everyone made the same brilliant leap: "It was them."
Raymond stood up slowly, his good arm pushing against the table as his knees protested. Pain shot through his shoulder like lightning, but he gritted his teeth and bore it. He didn't have time to rest. Not when the people who had his back were now being thrown under the bus.
The medicine was working. Not perfectly. But enough.
And right now, he needed every bit of strength he had.
"I should contact him now," Raymond let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed his phone from the table. His fingers hovered over the screen, just for a second—just long enough to hesitate—before tapping a single contact.
No name.
Just a letter: C.
The line rang twice.
Then came the voice. Smooth. Young. Confident. With just enough gravel to sound bored, but not the kind of bored you brush off—more like someone used to people needing him.
"This better be important, Ray," the voice drawled, crisp and unhurried. "I was about to enjoy my morning tea. Or possibly bribe someone."
Raymond didn't waste time. "Elion and Jordan. They're on the authorities' radar. We need to reach them first."
"Ah. The two mystery boys from Xylo," C said, his tone shifting ever so slightly. Still casual, but more alert now. "How bad are we talking?"
Raymond's grip on the phone tightened. "Real bad. They're being framed. People think they're involved in the massacre."
He could practically hear C raising an eyebrow.
"They've got CCTV," Raymond continued. "Footage of them chasing the bear-man after the attack. And now? Two more bodies turned up. And a few cops got torn to shreds. The media's running wild. The public thinks they disappeared into thin air after going full slasher."
A pause. Then, a long, slow exhale from C.
"So the geniuses in blue think two random guys single-handedly killed a dozen people and dipped?" he said, almost amused. "Charming."
Raymond's voice dropped. "They saved my life. They risked everything. And now they're being hunted."
Another pause. Then C's tone turned quieter. Not softer—just lower. More calculating.
"You're sure they're alive?"
Raymond hesitated for half a second. He hadn't heard from them. Hadn't seen a sign. But something in his gut refused to accept anything else.
"They're alive," he said firmly. "They have to be."
C chuckled faintly. "That's not a certainty, Ray. That's hope."
Raymond ignored the jab. "We need to find them first. Before the wrong people do."
"You say 'wrong people' like the Crescent Circle doesn't already have competition," C muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Then, louder. "Alright. Since they saved you, I'll put the word out. Discreetly."
Raymond exhaled, some of the tension finally loosening in his shoulders.
"We'll monitor checkpoints, traffic cams, anything weird. If they resurface, we'll get to them first," C added.
Raymond nodded, though C couldn't see it. "Good. I owe you one, C."
"You owe me five," C corrected without missing a beat. "But since I owe you big time, we can call this even."
Raymond rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just do this right, and I'll buy you all the drinks you want."
A chuckle. "Careful what you promise. Some of us have expensive taste. And a longer memory than you think."
Raymond cracked a small grin. "One more thing."
A beat. "What now?"
"Send someone to clean my apartment. I'm leaving for the gym later. This place looks like a junkyard married to a war zone."
"You're unbelievable."
The call ended with a click, and Raymond tossed his phone onto the table. He sat back, staring at the news ticker still crawling across the muted screen. His left shoulder throbbed. His pulse still hadn't slowed.
He hated relying on others. But right now?
He had no choice.
Because if the wrong people found Elion and Jordan first… this wouldn't end with false accusations.
It would end with funerals.
"You two better be safe." Raymond clenched his jaw. "I owe you guys everything."
***
Back in the forest, the night had passed without another attack.
No more beast-men. No more monstrous roars cutting through the trees like war drums. Just silence. Too much silence. The kind that made Elion's skin crawl—not from fear, but anticipation. Like the forest was holding its breath, waiting for something worse to arrive.
Ronan had kept watch the entire night, perched like a statue on a boulder near the edge of their makeshift camp. His eyes never closed. Not once. But nothing came.
Either they'd wiped out the last of the immediate threats… Or something bigger was waiting just out of sight. Either way, dawn had come—and with it, a strange calm.
Jordan was up first, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers. He still had a bandage wrapped tightly across his shoulder, but the difference was night and day. The poison was gone. The herbs had worked. The antidote had done its job.
And somehow, he looked stronger than before.
"Man, I feel great," Jordan said, stretching until his back cracked. "Like, actually alive. That healing stuff of yours is magic, cowboy."
"Better than being worm food, huh?" Ronan smirked, kicking dirt over the dying embers of their fire.
"Yeah, yeah," Jordan waved him off. "Lesson learned. Don't get too excited fighting poison-clawed monsters. But honestly?"
He grinned, turning to Elion. "Totally worth it."
Elion raised a brow. "Worth nearly dying?"
"No," Jordan said, clenching his fist.
A ripple of power pulsed through him—subtle but unmistakable.
"Worth this."
Elion smiled. He knew exactly what his friend meant.
Last night, after Jordan's recovery, Ronan had guided both of them through opening their Second and Third Mana Gates. Elion still remembered the sensation—his body growing lighter, his thoughts sharper, mana flowing through him like a second pulse. Everything felt… amplified.
And now?
Just to confirm, they'd both used the crystal again that morning to check their stats. They hadn't been imagining it. They'd grown stronger. Way stronger. In one night, their entire world had shifted. And they were just getting started.
=====
Name: Elion Hayes
Race: Human
Mana Gates Opened: 3
Beast Ring: None
Attributes:
Strength: 30
Speed: 35
Stamina: 30
Wisdom: 35
Mana: 140
=====
Meanwhile, Jordan's growth was jaw-dropping—just in a completely different way. Elion's stats were impressive, no doubt. High mana, high wisdom, excellent control. The kind of natural talent Ronan expected from someone like Elion. A strategist. A thinker. The kind of person who could one day wield power with precision.
But Jordan?
Jordan was something else entirely. Raw strength. Explosive stamina. Strength stat that didn't make sense—not for someone from this world.
Ronan narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as he glanced at the boy, who was currently flexing like he'd just discovered muscles for the first time.
'Three Mana Gates opened,' Ronan thought. 'Only three. And yet…'
The numbers didn't lie. No magical mutation. No beast ring has bonded yet. And still, Jordan's base strength already rivaled some of the junior Slayers Ronan had trained back in the Beast World. And this was Earth—where mana was weak, diluted. Limited.
'That kind of strength shouldn't exist here.'
He studied the boy more closely, eyes flicking over his posture, his grin, the easy confidence in the way he moved—like someone who'd never been told his limits. It wasn't just arrogance. It was instinct. Muscle memory. Like his body knew how to fight before his brain caught up.
'Who is he, really?'
Ronan didn't say it out loud. Didn't show it. But the question lodged itself deeper in his mind, refusing to let go. He'd keep watching. Keep measuring.
If the two of them had already been this strong with only three gates open, then what would they become once they unlocked more of them?
And more importantly—was everything the two of them had a gift?
Or a problem?
Ronan said nothing. For now, the mystery stayed sealed behind his steady eyes and quiet smirk. But he'd be keeping score. Very closely.
"Whoa! Why am I super strong?" Jordan grinned as he said that.
=====
Name: Jordan Walker
Race: Human
Mana Gates Opened: 3
Beast Ring: None
Attributes:
Strength: 45
Speed: 30
Stamina: 35
Wisdom: 20
Mana: 80
=====
"Yeah. Your strength more than doubled," Elion said, eyes still on the numbers glowing from the crystal. "That's actually insane."
Jordan smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back. "Doesn't sound like praise. Sounds like envy."
"I mean, your stats are ridiculous," Elion shot back. "But mine are more… well-rounded."
"Right," Jordan said, nodding mockingly. "You're the Swiss Army knife. I'm the wrecking ball."
Elion laughed. "Jack of all trades, master of none. I think that's going to be my brand."
They both cracked up at that—no bitterness, no competition. Just genuine amusement. Their stats, as ridiculous as they were, perfectly reflected who they were. Elion was more of a control, balance, and finesse. Jordan was brute strength and momentum in human form. Neither envied the other. They knew their roles.
Ronan stood off to the side, arms folded, watching them with what looked dangerously close to approval. Their progress overnight had exceeded expectations. With this, they weren't just tagalongs anymore.
They were becoming useful.
"To be fair," Ronan said, nodding at Elion's panel, "your mana's pretty high—for someone who's only opened three gates."
Elion tilted his head. "Wait… is that rare?"
"Very," Ronan said. "Mana affinity's something you're born with. Most people open three gates and barely push past seventy mana. You're already past one-forty."
Elion blinked. "So… wisdom doesn't increase mana?"
"Wisdom helps you control it," Ronan explained. "But your capacity—that's all about affinity. Natural compatibility with mana flow."
Jordan squinted. "And I got…?"
"A body built to break things," Ronan said with a smirk. "That strength of yours? It's not normal—even by Slayer standards."
Jordan looked smug. "You hear that, Swiss Army knife? I'm special."
"More like genetically violent," Elion muttered.
Jordan grinned. "I'll take it."
Elion glanced at his status screen again, thoughtful. He was proud of the growth—but the part about mana affinity stuck with him. That wasn't something you could train or grind for. It was built in.
Still, Ronan had said something that stuck with Elion.
"Stats can improve," he'd mentioned, almost offhandedly. "Physical strength, speed, stamina—you can train those. Wisdom grows through reading, learning, and experience. And mana?"
He gave a small, knowing smile. "Your storage can be expanded too. But that method… we'll get to it when the time's right."
That last part had Elion curious—and maybe a little nervous. But it also gave him something else.
Hope.
He wasn't built for brute strength like Jordan—and that was fine. He didn't need to punch through mountains. What he needed… was fuel. A lot of it.
If he could push his mana reserves high enough—cheat-code level high—he could spam the beast ring's powers without breaking a sweat. No cooldowns, no holding back. Just pure efficiency.
He already had the speed. The instincts. The wisdom to think two steps ahead. All he was missing now… was the gas tank to run it all.
There was still a long road ahead. More to train. More to master.
Elion glanced at Jordan and smirked. "Looks like we're still keeping the nickname, huh?"
Jordan grinned. "The Deadly Duo?"
"Yeah," Elion said. "Except now, instead of soccer, we're Slayers."
Jordan's grin widened. "Damn right, we are."
Ronan rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "If you two are done hyping yourselves up, let's get to the important part."
He reached into his dimensional storage, and with a flick of his wrist, two golden-black rings appeared in his palm. Elion and Jordan immediately recognized them. They were the same type of ring Ronan wore. The ones that could trap the Corruption Essence.
"These are for you," Ronan said simply.
Elion stared at them. "Wait… we're getting beast rings?"
Ronan smirked. "You thought I'd let you go around unarmed?"
Jordan was practically vibrating with excitement. "HELL YES! Gimme, gimme!"
Ronan tossed him one of the rings, then handed the other to Elion.
Elion turned his over in his palm, studying it. It was heavier than he expected, the black and gold metal gleaming in the early morning light.
"As I said last night, these rings are special," Ronan explained. "Unlike the ones we've been dealing with, these don't corrupt their hosts. Instead, they trap the Corrupted Essence inside them. That's their true purpose."
Jordan furrowed his brows.
"In case you've forgotten," Ronan said, "you're going to hunt down more beast-men. And every time you kill one, its essence will need a place to go."
Jordan's excitement dimmed slightly. "So we're basically walking prisons?"
"More or less," Ronan admitted. "It's better than letting that energy run wild in case the rings break free again."
A heavy silence followed that. They still remember the sight where the rings shot into the air last night. Even Ronan could not prevent that from happening.
Jordan shook it off first. "Alright, whatever. I still wanna know what kind of beast I get."
Ronan smirked. "Black Panther."
Jordan blinked. "Wait, what?"
He stared at the symbol of his ring, which was not something like a black panther at all. He squinted his eyes and asked, "Nothing like a black panther. Are you sure?"
Ronan chuckled. "Just kidding."
He gestured at Elion. "That's yours."
Elion's grip tightened on the ring. Black Panther. Something about it felt… right. As if the beast itself resonated with his personality and style. "I see. Black Panther, huh? I wonder what kind of transformation I can do with it."
Jordan, meanwhile, was still waiting. "And mine?"
"Rhino," Ronan said.
Jordan's face fell. "Rhino? Seriously?"
"It was either that or nothing," Ronan shrugged. "I only had three rings, and I'll never give you my Gorilla ring."
Jordan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Man, a Rhino sounds so boring. Can't I get, like, a lion? A wolf? Something badass?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "A Rhino is strong as hell, can bulldoze through enemies, and is nearly impossible to knock down. And you're complaining?"
Jordan considered that. "Okay, yeah, that actually sounds cool."
"Once again, since this is an important thing for you guys to know," Ronan paused before saying, "This isn't a normal beast ring."
Both Elion and Jordan nodded.
Ronan then continued, "It's been enhanced with spells to trap the Corrupted Essence. That means… it can't evolve like the others."
"Aw, man, what? The rings can evolve, but not ours?" Jordan's disappointment was palpable despite the fact that he did not really understand it and never knew about the ability to evolve.
"Hey, don't get greedy," Ronan chuckled. "You're already getting something most humans don't have access to."
Jordan grumbled but didn't argue. "Fine. What else?"
Ronan tossed each of them a small black sack—identical to the one he had used the night before.
"You'll need these too," he said. "It's where you'll store any Corrupted Rings you collect. Trust me, you don't wanna leave those things lying around."
Elion caught his sack and inspected it. It had the same symbols as Ronan's sack. He wondered how spells and magic actually worked. He wanted to learn more about it if possible. The other things he was amazed about were Ronan's battle suit, cloak, and gun. But for now, he needed to learn how to use the beast ring first.
"Since you both have mana now," Ronan continued, "you can also use a basic dimensional storage spell. It's easy to cast, and it works together with your beast rings. Just channel your mana into the ring and picture where you want the item to go."
Elion blinked. "That's it?"
He had learned to direct the mana while trying to open the Second and Third Mana Gates. It was not too difficult once he had done it once. Somehow, it felt natural.
"That's it," Ronan confirmed. "No fancy hand signs, no incantations. Just intent and mana flow."
Jordan grinned. "Nice. I'm gonna be so good at this."
Ronan snorted. "We'll see about that."
Then, his expression grew serious. "You've both been blessed with this opportunity," he said. "But don't think for a second that these rings make you invincible."
Elion and Jordan exchanged glances.
Ronan cracked his knuckles. "You've got the tools. Now, it's time to learn how to actually use them."
Jordan grinned. "Oh, hell yeah. Bring it on."
With beast rings on their fingers and power pulsing beneath their skin, the Deadly Duo weren't just survivors anymore.
They were Slayers—and the hunt was about to begin.