The wind tasted like rust.
Sam adjusted his gloves as the deployment van rattled over cracked concrete. Outside, the Hollow Slums stretched like a dying lung—flickering neon signs barely clinging to life, walls etched with spectral baybayin that glowed and faded in pulses. This place had already bled out years ago. Now, the Rift was devouring what remained.
"First deployment's never clean," Rael muttered beside him, cracking his neck. "Don't be a hero."
Sam kept silent. His heart thumped like a war drum, Veins humming beneath his skin. Something old was breathing in the air, and it wasn't just the Rift.
Across the van, Valencia stood, clad in tactical gear woven with antique embroidery—an odd but elegant blend of high-tech and heritage. She slammed a magnetic baton against the wall for attention.
"Listen up. Hollow Slums has developed a C-Class spatial distortion. Hostile entities confirmed. We deploy in squads. No solo acts. No flair. Keep your resonance contained."
The doors hissed open.
The city was silent.
They stepped into the Rift.
The Hollow Slums had become a haunting echo of Manila. Houses warped into impossible angles. Streetlamps blinked in Morse code, casting shadows that moved just a second too slow.
Sam walked with Rael's squad—four total—moving in tight formation. He could feel it again: that static in the air. Not fear. Not adrenaline. Something watching.
Gabriela?
No response. Just wind. Then—
FSSSH.
The first strike came from the walls. A shadow peeled off the surface like wet paper and lunged at them—Echo Shades, humanoid silhouettes with flickering outlines and no faces.
Rael didn't wait. "Engage!"
Electricity arced from his Vein, lashing across the creature—only for it to phase through like smoke. Sam's instincts roared, and his fire sparked mid-palm.
"Flarepoint!"
He blasted the Shade off its feet. More emerged—some from puddles, others from cracks in the ground. They surrounded the squad, twitching and glitching like corrupted memories.
Valencia's voice echoed through the comms. "Shades adapting. Target the core echoes. Strike clean."
But they weren't fast enough.
A Shade surged toward Rael—silent, deadly.
Sam moved without thinking.
"Ignition Vein: Taludtod!"
A spiraling flame carved a path, slamming the Shade back. Then—
Wind.
Whispers.
A voice, not his own, curled in his ears:
"Never bow to fear. Make the wind dance."
Gabriela. Her voice was like thunder wrapped in silk.
Sam's body moved—fire mingling with wind. His Vein twisted, a hybrid resonance erupting from his core. Flames scattered like feathers, slashing through three Shades in one breath.
The squad stared.
"What the hell was that?" Rael said, half-awed, half-suspicious.
Sam's hands trembled. "I… I don't know."
The air settled. The Echo Shades retreated, melting into walls like ghosts unfinished. The squad exhaled, weapons still drawn.
Then they saw it.
At the corner of the ruined street stood a crumbling statue—a woman with a bladed whip raised toward the sky, hair in a storm-swept braid. Wind howled through the alleys, and for a heartbeat, her eyes glowed.
Sam stared, pulse racing.
Gabriela Silang.
Deep below, beneath the slums, something stirred.
A beast of silence and broken hopes, eyes glowing like coal in tar. A Watcher, forged from a hundred failed revolutions, watched Sam's squad with idle curiosity.
When it saw Sam, it grinned.
The hunt had begun.