To Eat the Predator

The sky did not burn that night. Because the sky had been devoured.

Dev'ra stood upon a field of bones—her kingdom, built from the bodies of those who once dared to challenge her. Now silent, cracked, and lifeless, they formed her fractured throne. Dried blood clung to her fingertips, hardened like onyx. The world quaked with every step she took. She had never lost. Never been touched. Never been marked.

Until that night. The night when reality forgot to lock its doors.

A shadow without a source. Laughter without sound. A creature that did not belong in any order, that came from no blood, that wore no shape—appeared uninvited.

And it was hungry. Its fragments came first. Whispers between the breaths of soldiers. Cracks forming on black walls that had never been built. Then—eyes. Many. Or perhaps just one. And from that came something, it, the thing—

Dev'ra tried to tear it apart. But there was no flesh to rip. No neck to snap. Each time she drove her claws in, it was her own blood that spilled. Until she could no longer feel. Until she herself became the door.

She was consumed.

Not with teeth. But through a closeness far too deep. Too intimate. As if the shadow had crawled inside her and begun to live between her bones, slithering up her spine, nesting within her whispers.

And as she lay half-shattered, consciousness barely holding on, Dev'ra whispered "Your name... Nhal'Zereth... the One Who Whispers in the Cracks..."

Then the laughter came. Soft. Long. Suffocating. "Nhal'Zereth..." it echoed, from her flesh, from her mind, from whatever used to be called her soul. "Excellent... of all the Queens I've devoured, you... you're still my favorite."

"Live again, Dev'ra. I'll be waiting. I'll find you. I'll come for you. I'll—lick you clean."

And just before she vanished entirely—one last sentence burned into her being, stronger than any seal, stickier than primordial blood

"In your next life... Try not to lose so soon, okay?"

ZRAAK—

Rivea jolted awake as if dragged from a swamp of blood. Her breath fractured in her throat. Her body drenched in cold sweat, but her eyes gleamed with fury. Something in the back of her neck still burned. The voice. That laugh. That breath. That name. Nhal'Zereth.

Damn it. Every time he showed up, it was like her blood was boiling from the inside.

She threw off her blanket and stood with a violent motion, nearly stumbling from the bite of the cold air.

"I'll burn you, bastard... one day," she muttered, barely audible. That's when she realized... She wasn't alone.

Noz.

The boy was sitting on the edge of his bed. Upright. Rigid. His eyes hidden behind long black hair—but he was definitely awake. Hands resting calmly in his lap, like a corpse posed for burial.

The digital clock on the wall read: 03:14

Still dark. Still far too quiet. And Noz... how long had he been awake?

"Do you... ever sleep?" Rivea asked, half out of reflex.

No response. But his shoulders shifted. Slightly. "You were screaming in your sleep," Noz said, voice flat and faint—like a playback from a broken recorder. "The name... Nhal'Zereth?"

Rivea fell silent. Her chest tightened. Her eyes narrowed like a beast bracing to strike. "Eavesdropping on sleeping kids your new hobby?" Noz didn't turn.

"I don't sleep."

"Yeah, I noticed. Why?"

"...Sleeping brings dreams."

"Dreams make people forget what's real."

"I can't afford to forget what's real."

Silence. Rivea stared harder now. Noz wasn't just some awkward kid hiding behind his hair. There was something very un-kidlike inside him. Too still. Too empty. Like a body that had already been abandoned—but was still being forced to move.

"You ever killed someone?" Rivea asked, suddenly.

Noz didn't answer. But his lips parted slightly. One quiet breath. Then closed again. Not "I don't know what to say"—But "I don't need to."

Rivea raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Noted. We'll chat again in daylight, zombie boy." She turned, crawled back into bed. But she didn't sleep.

Because Noz didn't sleep. And for some reason... that was enough to make the air in their room stay uneasy until morning.

The cafeteria looked more like a prison with bright lights. Everything was metal. Cold. Long tables without dividers. There was no delicious smell like a normal school cafeteria. Only the scent of instant broth and rusted iron.

Their meal? A plate of pale gray porridge with chunks of synthetic meat —no one could tell if it came from an animal… or something else. Each plate identical. Every kid, the same portion.

"At least it's not poisonous," Kael said, sniffing his plate. "Though it smells like a wet sneaker."

Rivea stirred her food slowly. Solen sat quietly, eating in slow, measured bites. Noz, as usual, remained silent. Alyen, with her usual forced cheer, tried to smile… though her eyes welled up every time she chewed.

"I… like meat," she said, laughing awkwardly. "Like… protein's important, right? Hahaha…"

"Yeah, if this is meat," Kael said, lifting a chunk with his plastic fork. "Tastes more like chewed-up tire rubber."

The room was packed with kids from every group. But not many spoke. They kept stealing glances at each other. Ally? Threat? Puppet? Anyone could be anything.

And someone was watching.

On one side of the room stood five adults in black suits, each marked with a crossed fang insignia on their chest. Fang Division. Internal security, rumored to have wiped out an entire small town just to "contain a leak."

One of them stood at the front — a tall man with a smile far too wide, teeth like tiny nails, and eyes that didn't quite align.

"Eat up," he said, eyes scanning the room. "If you're starving during a mission... you might end up eating one of your teammates."

Some of the kids froze. Others pretended they didn't hear.

Lucienne sat proudly at a table across the room, flanked by Noir and Lumière. Even while eating, she held herself like she was posing for a royal portrait.

Her eyes briefly met Rivea's. Her smile was sweet. But there was nothing warm about it.

"I like fresh meat," she said loudly enough for nearby kids to hear. "But bloody, wild meat… has a flavor of its own."

Rivea stared back, expressionless. But her fingers gripped the spoon so tightly, the plastic cracked.

"So… a team, huh?" Kael was the first to speak. He grinned and dropped his spoon onto the plate. Slap. "We're like a failed boyband, but who knows—maybe we'll bring the house down."

Rivea didn't respond. She was busy staring at her left hand—a smear of dried blood she hadn't cleaned off yet, a leftover from the experimental creature massacre. But one corner of her mouth lifted. A sign that she didn't hate what he said.

Solen sat across from them, face as blank as ever, but his legs swung slowly under the table. That was his version of agreement.

"Boyband? Should be a girl group. I'm way too pretty," Alyen chirped from the side,

her sweet smile still intact, even after swallowing rust-flavored porridge.

"Of course," Kael replied. "We've got one rejected princess, one sadistic girl, one mute kid, and one… hair ghost."

All eyes turned to Noz. Still sitting, slightly hunched, pitch-black hair falling like a curtain over most of his face. He looked like a shadow that forgot how to leave the dark.

"Noz, right?" Rivea finally spoke. "You sure… you're in the right place?"

"...maybe," Noz answered softly. His voice was dry, like an old book whispering. "But… maybe not."

Solen let out a faint snort. That was his version of laughing.

"Even more mysterious," Kael leaned back. "I like it. Total plot twist material. You're probably an ancient god with amnesia."

"Or the president's son," Alyen added. "But kidnapped and forced into experiments. Then someone finds out, and the whole organization gets burned to the ground. We're free!"

"Sounds… stupid," Solen chimed in. Calm, but with a tone that threw the idea off a cliff. "But… kinda funny."

Rivea just watched all of them. One by one. The world was strange. She used to walk alone, with bone and blood clinging to her nails. Now? She was sitting at a lunch table with kids who looked like they belonged in a cartoon or a comic strip.

And somehow… it wasn't entirely awful.

"If they split us up later, I'm going with Rivea."

The words came out slow, flat. But sharp.

Noz didn't look up. He kept his head bowed, hair hanging low, hands gripping the edge of his empty tray like he wanted to crush the cheap plastic into dust.

Kael paused mid-chew. He glanced at Noz—then at Rivea—then back to Noz.

"...not gonna ask the owner of the body first?" Kael grinned, but his eyes weren't smiling at all.

Rivea didn't answer. She just stared straight ahead. Her legs swung gently beneath the bench.

Noz didn't react. But somehow, the air around him got heavier. Like something was unfolding—slowly. Not a threat, not a killing intent—just a sense of possession that felt… damp.

"You guys sound like you made a pact as toddlers," Alyen teased, nudging Solen with her elbow. "Kinda cute. But I'm still voting for Rivea as team leader."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Huh? That was fast."

"Instinct. And Rivea's smile is the kind that says she'll kill you if you don't help with homework. I like scary girls."

Solen gave Alyen a brief look. Then stared at his spoon. Then his plate.

"I… want to die."

"Aww, don't say that." Alyen smiled. "If you die, who's gonna sit with me at lunch? Everyone else smells weird."

"...die."

Kael burst out laughing. "Solen wins. Hands down. King of deadpan despair." Rivea still didn't speak, but one eyebrow arched slightly. She glanced at Noz, who was sitting too close. Then at Kael, who was clearly getting nosy. Then at Alyen—who, for some reason, was now poking Solen's side with a used straw.

This team was broken. But… oddly comforting. Rivea leaned back, resting her chin on one hand. For the first time since arriving here… she almost forgot she hated everything.

Almost.