CHAPTER 3 — Train to Port Veils: GYU’ZHAR DESCENDS

  The sun hung low in the sky as the train hissed to life, pulling away from the capital’s bustling station. Steam coiled around its wheels, and distant chatter faded beneath the mechanical hum of departure. The public had boarded with casual urgency—families, merchants, engineers—all trusting in the speed and safety of the Trans-Aurelian line.

  In the final car—the cargo section—three young harmonists sat in silence. They were Unit 0: newly assigned, half-glorified students, half-warriors in training.

  Resonance crystals lined the chamber in reinforced crates, each one pulsing with soft energy—civilization’s most vital resource glowing like subdued starlight.

  The countryside blurred into streaks as the train accelerated. Hour by hour, the light outside dimmed, painting the car in progressively darker hues.

  By the time they reached peak speed—over 400 miles per hour—they were deep in the wilderness, far from cities and signals. Night had fallen completely, cloaking the world beyond the windows in pitch black. The only light was that of the crystals…and what little leaked in from the moonless sky.

  Inside, the atmosphere was calm. Still.

  Seren Sylvaris sat cross-legged on a crate, appearing asleep at a glance. But his senses were anything but dormant. Thin steel threads extended from his fingertips, invisible to the untrained eye, woven into a delicate web that mapped the entire structure of the train in real time. He could feel every footstep, every shift in weight. He tracked each passenger subconsciously, eyes half-lidded as he meditated on the flow of threadlines.

  Amara Nullis was limbering up across from him, stretching her arms behind her back until her shoulders popped. Her muscles rippled under the dim light—not with bulk, but with the smooth tension of a trained martial artist. She exhaled slowly, gauging the rhythm of the train beneath her boots.

  Lysander Valenor was the only one who looked truly at ease, reclining against the wall while popping a snack into his mouth. His silver eyes followed the shifting glow of the crystals with lazy curiosity. Though young, there was a quiet sharpness in the way he observed the world. His training at the Aurelian Academy wasn’t as intense as his brother Caelen’s path, but it had made him strong in his own right—instinctual, reactive, fast on his feet.

  Then—

  A pulse.

  Not from the crystals. Something else.

  Something wrong.

  It struck the senses like a drop of ink in clear water—disruptive, undeniable. An echo of something vile brushing against the very walls of the world.

  Seren’s eyes opened in a flash.

  Amara’s posture shifted instantly, her weight dropping low.

  Lysander’s snack froze halfway to his mouth.

  “Brace!!” all three shouted in unison.

  Exterior — Tracks

  Dusk had long since faded, and night blanketed the land in cold silence.

  That silence ruptured.

  A blur shot down the rails, faster than any creature should be able to move. It was pale—skin raw and slick—and behind it trailed streaks of blood that painted the tracks in erratic arcs.

  Gyu’Zhar.

  He ran like a demon set loose, one hand clawing at his own neck while the other flailed wildly. Green hair whipped in every direction as he jerked his head back and laughed—a high-pitched, fractured sound that rang out into the night.

  “Gyu’Zhar HUNGRY! Gyu’Zhar WANTS! Gyu’Zhar TAKES!!”

  Then—he jumped.

  One foot. One kick.

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  The train screamed.

  Metal warped as the vehicle veered violently sideways. The entire body of the train lurched, throwing sparks into the night sky. Carts slammed against each other with concussive force. The world tilted.

  Interior — Cargo Car

  The lights went red. Sparks flew. The floor was no longer flat.

  But Unit 0 moved as one.

  Seren’s threads snapped outward, binding crates to the walls and passengers to safety. He didn’t move from his position—even as the train canted sideways, his web held steady.

  Amara caught a child mid-air, her legs pushing off falling debris as she vaulted across the compartment. She landed against a side wall, now slanted like the floor of a sinking ship.

  Lysander threw his palm into the floor with a grunt. Resonance energy surged outward from the point of contact, anchoring a pocket of space so the structure didn’t collapse in on itself. With his other hand, he grabbed a slipping civilian, hurling them toward the back of the car with surprising precision.

  Then—silence.

  Drip. Drip.

  At the edge of the twisted cargo door covered by darkness, a claw emerged.

  Pale. Poisonous. Wrong.

  Then a mouth. Grinning behind a shadow Teeth too many. Lips stretched impossibly wide.

  “Gyu’Zhar found his feast…”

  Smoke. Sparks. Screams.

  The train groaned, metal creaking under the weight of its violent derailment. Inside, chaos reigned—passengers stumbled, crates burst open, and resonance crystals scattered like spilled stardust across the floor.

  Seren Sylvaris stood at the heart of the madness, arms extended outward. Steel threads snapped from his fingertips, slicing through the air with surgical precision.

  Fwik—!

  Snatch—!

  Thwip—!

  Without moving from his spot, he anchored debris to the walls, wrapped wounded passengers in protective thread, and yanked a falling beam away from a young woman’s head.

  “Exit’s to the rear,” he said calmly, voice unwavering. “Don’t stop. Don’t scream. Go.”

  One eye locked onto the open cargo door, where a shadow slithered closer, creeping up with hunger and madness.

  Amara gently lowered the rescued child behind a shattered bench, patting their head reassuringly. Then, in one smooth motion, she stood.

  “Stay here. Don’t move,” she whispered.

  She cracked her knuckles. Her feet slid back into a firm stance. A single breath drew her body into sharp focus—shoulders square, center of gravity low. Her eyes never left the shifting shadow outside.

  Lysander sprinted across the tilted cabin, sweat running down his temple as the cries of panicked civilians echoed around him.

  “Follow my voice!” he shouted. “Outside, now—move!”

  Suddenly—

  The cargo door exploded inward.

  Gyu’Zhar landed like a nightmare.

  Bloodied, shirtless, long green hair tangled and clinging to his bruised body. His grin was too sharp. Too wide. Too wrong.

  “Gyu’Zhar sees all. Gyu’Zhar smells fear. Gyu’Zhar… EATS!”

  He lunged, claws sweeping the air, leaving venomous trails in his wake.

  Amara intercepted without hesitation.

  Their fists collided—her raw strength against his poison-coated limbs. Energy flew.

  “You’re not causing anymore trouble,” she snarled.

  Gyu’Zhar cackled. Blood erupted from his pores, forming jagged daggers that whipped toward her.

  Seren’s threads sliced into the fray, wrapping around Gyu’Zhar’s limbs in a fluid motion.

  “You talk too much,” he muttered.

  But the wraith twisted unnaturally. His boiling blood corroded the threads, shattering them like brittle glass.

  Lysander arrived last, landing silently behind them. His eyes scanned the scene with a sharp glint of silver.

  “He’s weird lookin…” he murmured.

  Seren’s eyes narrow as his fingers slide effortlessly along the steel threads, weaving them into tight coils. With a single command, the threads surge through the air.

  Seren: “Go.”

  In an instant, Amara rockets forward, her staff materializing mid-air, glowing faintly with raw resonance. Her body tucks into a tight spin, propelling her like a bullet—silent, lethal, and precise. Her trajectory is flawless as she slams into the chaos with brutal force.

  Lysander, light on his feet, hops side to side, shaking his arms loose with a grin on his face. He’s ready to engage, like a sparring match in school.

  Lysander: “Alright… let’s get serious!”

  Without warning, he vanishes in a flash. The impact is immediate—a blinding burst of motion as Lysander’s heel comes crashing down toward Gyu’Zhar’s skull, his speed unimaginable, even with the weight of four gravity bracelets.

  CLANG!

  Gyu’Zhar doesn’t flinch. His grin stretches wide, his neck twitching as he catches Lysander’s kick effortlessly, his fingers wrapping around the ankle with a terrifying vice-like grip. The ground cracks beneath them from the force.

  In one fluid motion, Gyu’Zhar swings his arm back, backhanding Amara’s staff-attack off-course. The impact sends her crashing into the floor of the train car with a deafening metallic quake.

  Amara (gritting her teeth): “Tch—!”

  Seren watches, his eyes darting between his allies and their opponent. His mind races, calculating.

  Seren (thinking): “His reflexes are insane. He’s redirecting the power from every blow. And he’s not flinching… We need a new approach.”

  Lysander is thrown aside like a ragdoll, his body flipping through the air before he crashes into the walls, then onto the ceiling, recovering with inhuman agility.

  Lysander (smirking): “Okay… yeah. You’re built different.”

  With a renewed focus, Lysander dashes back in, his feet skimming the walls as he closes the distance once more.

  Meanwhile, Amara quickly rebounds from her crash, spitting blood as she drags her staff across the floor, sparks flying. She lowers her body and charges at Gyu’Zhar again, this time coming in low, determined to land a blow.

  Seren, ever vigilant, begins weaving threads beneath the surface of the chaos, setting up a trap around Gyu’Zhar’s feet and arms, his plan forming with precision.

  It’s no longer just a battle; it’s a storm, moving in every direction at once.

  Amara is on the ground, moving like a shadow.

  Lysander is above, a blur in the air.

  Seren weaves in the background, silent, calculating, preparing.

  And in the center of it all, Gyu’Zhar stands, grinning.

  Gyu’Zhar (scratching his neck): “Yesss… this is how Gyu’Zhar grows… stronger… faster… tastier…”

  Everything goes dark.

  End of Episode 3.