So it began—Dican’s hunt under his mate’s command.
He moved with quiet steps through the ruins of the fallen city, the sky above still choked with the silver shapes of Grayling ships. They hovered ominously, blinking with slow pulses of light, casting long shadows over the hollow buildings and skeletal remains of streets.
Dican looked up, his golden eyes narrowing.
He could feel the tremor in the air, the subtle vibrations of the ships communicating above. But he wasn’t foolish—he didn’t have the power to strike them yet. Not when they were clustered in the air like vultures, each brimming with weapons and swarms of their kind waiting to pour down.
If he provoked one, they would descend on him in a storm. Their weapons weren’t to be underestimated. Their numbers were too large. Not yet. Not like this.
He clenched his fists, then slowly exhaled, letting go of the tension.
No—he had to hunt smarter. Target the ones who had already descended. The ground-dwelling Graylings. The ones who had scattered across Earth like rats, devouring everything in their path.
He turned away from the sky and started moving again, sharp eyes scanning the wreckage around him.
The Graylings that landed first had caused the worst damage. Only a few came down initially, but each one could consume dozens of humans per day. In the early hours, entire neighborhoods were wiped out, people slaughtered in the streets. Those who didn’t die fled, but the Graylings were faster. Smarter. More brutal.
By the second day, the majority of the escapees had already been eaten.
Now, only the cleverest remained—those who knew how to disappear, who buried themselves deep underground and didn’t make a sound. Dican passed one such human now.
There—beneath a cracked slab of concrete, a narrow gap revealed a man crouched inside what looked like a broken sewage tunnel. Dican’s eyes met his for a split second.
The human flinched violently. His pupils dilated, his chest rising in shallow gasps. Then, with a choked cry, he scrambled deeper into the dark, disappearing into the filth of the earth.
Dican said nothing. He didn’t follow.
The humans were not his concern.
His attention shifted to the surroundings. Rubble. Collapsed buildings. Drained vehicles. A metallic silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint hum of a ship far above and the distant creaking of broken steel.
He scanned the area with calm precision.
Graylings liked enclosed spaces. They craved tight, hollow places—anywhere they could press their soft bodies into walls and vanish from sight. Their boneless limbs could compress unnaturally small. It gave them a perverse sense of security. And it made them harder to find.
But not impossible.
Dican moved slowly, letting his enhanced senses stretch out around him. The faint scent of sulfur. A hint of rotting flesh.
He turned toward a collapsed parking garage, its lower levels now buried beneath dust and twisted rebar.
There.
Movement.
Just the whisper of a shape sliding through shadow.
A Grayling.
Dican’s pupils narrowed. He stepped forward, unhurried. Silent.
His mate wanted the bonding medicine—and only the elite Graylings carried it in concentrated form. Most had trace amounts, just enough to affect a human weakly. But the stronger ones... the generals, the mature ones... they carried it like venom in their sacs. That was what Bian wanted.
And so, that was what he would get.
Dican’s hand hovered by his side, his body poised.
Not yet.
He had to be sure it was the right kind. He had to bring back the purest version, or his love wouldn’t be pleased.
Dican’s lips twitched, almost like a smile.
His steps were silent as he crept close.
A small Grayling. Octopus-like in form, its slick, boneless limbs clung to the corners of the wall. Light grey in shade, nearly translucent, it blended in with the shadows and rubble. But the moment it sensed the presence in his blood, it recoiled violently.
The Grayling’s twitching eyes locked onto him. Panic. It turned to flee, but it wasn’t fast enough.
With a blur of movement, he surged forward, slamming his blade into the side of its head—carefully angled so as not to kill it completely. A clean puncture just below the crest. The creature spasmed, limbs flailing in jagged agony, letting out a series of shrill clicking sounds that echoed through the broken building.
Dican knelt beside it.
Its body jerked and shuddered, twitching under him as it tried to wrench free.
He reached out, gently patting its trembling head with quiet mockery. "Good kid," he murmured, his voice a chilling contrast to the violence in his movements. "Now tell me where your general is... or I can’t promise what I’ll do to you."
The Grayling clicked loudly—sharp and panicked.
Then silence.
Dican’s smile faltered. The creature had gone limp.
His brows furrowed. He turned the body over. Dead. Its inner tissues had collapsed inwards—self-terminated. The damn thing had killed itself before he could pry the information out of it.
"Coward," he muttered, rising to his feet. He let out a slow breath, biting his lower lip anxiously.
This wasn’t working.
Every time he approached, they sensed him. His Farian blood, his aura—it was too potent. The Graylings scattered the moment he came close. And the smaller ones? Useless. Their sacs weren’t developed enough to produce the substance Bian wanted.
He stepped out of the wreckage, his boots crunching over the broken tiles and glass.
The air outside was thick with dust. The streets lay empty, eerily quiet, buildings hollowed out like corpses. The setting sun bled orange across the horizon, reflecting off the silver ships still looming distantly overhead.
And there, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting like a dog loyal to his master—Bian.
His eyes lit up the second he spotted Dican.
He ran forward, lips parting with anticipation. "Did you get it?" he asked breathlessly. "Did that thing have it?!"
Dican slowly shook his head. "Sorry, love," he said quietly. "This one was too small. Its sac wasn’t developed enough."
Bian’s expression crumpled instantly. "Fuck!" he shouted, kicking a broken can aside. "How much longer?!"
"I’m doing everything I can," Dican replied, voice calm, but tired. "But they’re avoiding me. They know what I am. They scatter before I can even approach."
Bian turned away, pacing. His fists clenched tight at his sides. His eyes were blazing, jaw tense. "We’re wasting time..."
"I know." Dican stepped toward him. "We’ll find a bigger one soon. I promise."
Bian simply scowled.