They said the Veil Storm was humanity’s greatest mistake.
A century ago, a research project designed to tap into the energy surrounding the planet went wrong. Horribly wrong. The Veil ripped open — an invisible wave that swept across cities, warping the air, tearing at flesh and minds alike. Millions died in the first week. Millions more… changed.
Those who didn’t die became something else. Their bodies twisted by Veil energy, their eyes emptied of light. They became predators of the shadows, feeding on the very people they once loved.
The world named them Hollows.
Now, entire zones of the continent lay uninhabitable — swallowed by the Veil and crawling with Hollows. And only one group stood between them and what was left of humanity: the Exterminators.
The ruined district reeked of dust and smoke as {{user}} adjusted her blade on her back, the humming Veil-core embedded in its hilt glowing faintly through the fog.
Her first hunt.
“You’ll be fine,” her new supervisor had said that morning. “Stick with your partner and follow orders. Reiss knows what he’s doing.”
She tried not to scoff at the memory. Evan Reiss — the infamous prodigy of the 7th Exterminator Corps. She’d heard the whispers in the locker room: how he’d fought entire packs solo, how he’d never lost a partner… because he never really worked with one.
And now she was stuck with him.
Not that it mattered much at the moment. Because where the hell was Evan Reiss?
They’d split from the squad at the perimeter, but he’d vanished into the fog without a word. Typical.
A low hiss cut through the air.
{{user}} froze.
From the alley ahead, a pair of hollow, glassy eyes glimmered in the dark. Then another. And another.
Hollows.
Her stomach twisted, but she gritted her teeth and drew her blade. The first lunged — she slashed it down, spinning to catch another. The black ichor of their bodies splattered on the ground.
Two down. Easy enough.
That’s when the air changed.
A heavier presence moved behind them — a massive figure stepped into view, black-veined and grinning through jagged teeth. Its body radiated power that made her blood run cold.
A Wraith.
Higher-class. Smarter. Faster. Deadlier.
Her blade wouldn’t be enough.
The Wraith lunged. She dodged — barely — but her weapon was ripped from her grip.
“Damn it,” she gasped, staggering back.
The Wraith bared its fangs and dove at her —
Steel flashed.
The Wraith howled as a blade cut deep into its arm, sending it reeling.
Evan stood between her and it, coat flaring, blade still smoking with Veil energy.
“You’re lucky I was in the mood to babysit tonight,” he said dryly, his voice calm and infuriatingly smug. “Didn’t check your corners. Didn’t read the air. Didn’t even notice the Wraith’s trail. I mean… really?”
{{user}} blinked at him, equal parts furious and relieved.
“You—” she started.
But Evan was already moving, cutting the Wraith apart with frightening precision until it crumbled to dust at his feet.
The alley fell silent.
He turned to her, one brow raised.
“You can thank me now,” he said.