Unwritten Mythos

Across the vast savannah, a red creature darted through the golden grasslands, its form shifting between quadrupedal and bipedal as it ran. This beast, with the sinewy body of a dog yet a gait like a man, moved with eerie agility. Occasionally, it would drop to all fours, speeding across the plains like a blur, only to rise again and walk on two legs, a grotesque mockery of humanity.

An antelope bolted past, its hooves thundering across the earth. The creature, red as blood, opened its maw wide, and from its throat came the perfect imitation of the antelope's own cry. Hearing its kin's call, the antelope turned, confusion flaring in its wide eyes—only to see the monster barreling towards it. Before it could flee, sharp teeth sank into its neck. In mere moments, the antelope's life was torn from its body.

The red beast tore into the carcass, gnawing through flesh and bone with a savage hunger. Blood stained its maw, and its glowing eyes gleamed with animalistic fury. When it had eaten its fill, it paused, placing a clawed hand against its belly, the briefest flash of something—was it remorse?—crossing its face.

From above, a violet light descended, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene. A figure floated down, bathed in the shimmering purple hue. He wore glasses, his eyes gleaming the same violet as the aura around him. His voice, calm and measured, broke the silence. "Celestial," he called, "you should return."

The beast—Celestial—turned its bloodstained head toward the figure. "Sorkin," it growled, its voice an unsettling mix of man, woman, and beast. "I've told you before. I refuse to kill humans."

Naira Sorkin, arms folded behind his back, regarded the creature with cool detachment. "Running won't solve your problems. The longer you stay away from society, the closer you come to becoming a beast entirely."

Celestial bared his teeth, a snarl rumbling from deep within his chest. "Better a beast than a monster who kills without reason."

Sorkin shook his head slowly. "But you are a predator, Celestial. You possess the perfect skill for hunting, yet you hide out here in the wilds, refusing your nature."

Celestial wiped the blood from his mouth with a clawed hand, eyes narrowing. "Once the hunter in me awakens, I lose control. I can't distinguish between prey and friend. Until every last one is dead, I will not stop. Even if they are my family—or you."

Naira Sorkin's expression didn't waver. "I know. It's not your fault."

The red beast turned, frustration tightening its features. "You think I don't know that? I'm cursed. If I enter a city, I'll slaughter everyone. I'd rather stay here in the wild where there's no one to kill."

Sorkin floated above, his voice calm, yet insistent. "But there *is* a way. Come with me. There's an existence that can save you, if you're willing to take the risk."

Celestial's ears twitched at the suggestion, his claws flexing instinctively. "That existence... the Evolution Key... you think it can be so easily found? Before that happens, I'll have already lost myself. I'll have killed too many to count."

His voice, torn between resolve and despair, hung in the air as he turned to leave. Sorkin sighed, watching his retreating form. This one, like so many others, was a lost cause—always running from himself.

Celestial Beast, Chaos Insurgency's 2nd seat, was a living weapon, a monstrous being with no need for special traits to prove his strength. High attack, impenetrable defense, endless endurance, and speed far surpassing his foes—he was, in every way, a tank of terrifying proportions. And his voice, capable of mimicking any sound with flawless precision, only added to his deadly arsenal.

But it was his cursed state that made him so dangerous. When hunger or the sight of fleeing prey overtook him, his mind would snap into hunter mode. Friend or foe, it mattered not—he would hunt until every living thing in his vicinity was dead.

Time after time, Celestial had fled, running from the monstrous hunger inside him. He had crossed continents, from Asia to the African plains, in an attempt to escape his fate. And yet, each time, the beast within him had been drawn out, if only for moments, as terrified hunters saw him and instinctively ran. That was all it took. Once their backs were turned, the chase began, and the outcome was always the same—death.

Sorkin hovered above the ground, watching the creature, frustration tightening his features. "You can't keep running. Sooner or later, the GPA or Kitsune will find you."

At the mention of those names, Celestial paused, his back still turned. "Perhaps being captured wouldn't be such a bad thing after all."

Sorkin frowned, sensing the resignation in Celestial's voice. "The Lord gave you a number—011. Arthur is 010. I am 015. Don't forget that."

With a flicker of violet light, Sorkin began to ascend once more, his parting words echoing down to the earth. "I'm going to find Nightmare. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

...

A few days later, within the quiet halls of a university, Naira Sorkin stood atop the library roof, gazing down at the world of books and students. His violet eyes gleamed faintly in the shadows, and his presence was a ghostly ripple, unseen by all but one.

Below, a black-haired young man sat at a long wooden table, his focus buried deep within the pages of a thick tome. His name was Fan Ye, a student who had chosen to hide within the normality of human life. But in truth, he was much more—a figure known in the undercurrents of Chaos Insurgency as Nightmare, the 4th seat. His ability, as haunting as his title, allowed him to slip into the dreams of others and drag them into an abyss of slumber.

Once, he had been the key to calming the Celestial Beast, forcing the monstrous 011 into a deep sleep when his madness overtook him. But now, Fan Ye was no longer interested in that world of chaos and conflict.

Without lifting his gaze from the book, Fan Ye's voice broke the silence. "Come to bring me back?"

Naira Sorkin stepped forward from the shadows behind him, the faint violet glow around him pulsing in the dim light. "It's not just you."

Fan Ye closed the book with a quiet thud, sighing as though he had anticipated this moment for some time. "I told you," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I want to finish college. Can we discuss this after I graduate?"

Naira clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes cold and unreadable. "Does human life truly captivate you this much?"

A soft chuckle escaped Fan Ye's lips, though his eyes held a sharper edge. "Then let me ask you, Sorkin. Is the life of monsters so much better? Or is it that, as a former criminal, you've grown so used to fear that it's become a habit, one you can't shake off?"

For the first time, Naira's expression shifted, though only slightly. Without a word, he turned his back on Fan Ye and began to walk away.

Fan Ye's voice followed him, light and mocking. "So, you're not going to try and convince me anymore?"

Naira paused but didn't look back. "Would you listen if I did?"

"No," Fan Ye admitted, returning to his book with an air of finality. "And since it's clear none of the others will come back, why bother? They've made their choices. No one's thinking about returning."

Naira's silence was telling. The remnants of Chaos Insurgency had dwindled to only five—barely enough to stand against the looming threats of Kitsune and the GPA.

"The current five are enough," Fan Ye added. "You even have the Master of Flesh. He could split himself into an army if he wanted. What's there that he can't fight?"

Without another word, Naira Sorkin vanished, leaving Fan Ye in the silence of the library, where the world of books continued to spin on.