Herald of death

Russ by his side, barely held by a leash stashed in the pocket of his jogging pants, Ethan runs through the Champs de Mars. It has been a week since monsters invaded, but to Ethan, the last five days were nothing but a blur.

As soon as he closes his eyes, he dreams of places and people he has never met in a world that is not his. His inner voice even transitions to Eldorian instead of the usual English or French.

They pass a beggar sitting under the shade of a tree, and Ethan stops, checking his pockets for a coin. 'What am I doing?!' he yells in his mind. He had never given to charity or even cared for the suffering of others. Yet here he was, instinctively empathizing with the man. 'Great gift, my ass,' Ethan says to himself as he resumes his run.

Very few people are present in the park, and those who are look around erratically. 'They fear a monster could appear from anywhere,' Ethan guesses, as he had seen this look before. 'When?' he says to himself, trying to recall ever seeing that look.

His mind takes him to the fragmented memory of a hospice where he healed knights who were attacked by a Behir. 'Not me, not my memory,' he thinks, narrowly avoiding a daydreaming walker.

Trying to stop thinking, he sees a woman holding a stack of documents, yelling on the phone. He hides his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses and uses predator's sight to eavesdrop.

"Yes, I understand that everyone is under a lot of stress, but this is still a business," she snaps into the phone, her voice brittle with tension. "We can't just stop because of a few... incidents. We need those reports by tomorrow!"

A man responds on the other end with exasperation and fatigue in his tone. "Look, I can't just –"

Her grip tightens around the stack of papers. "I know it's hard, but we lost Martin and Elise last week, and their work isn't going to finish itself. We're all picking up extra slack here. Make it happen!" With a frustrated sigh, she ends the call and starts shuffling through the documents.

His senses make him acutely aware of the emotion swirling in her. Overwhelming stress, a hint of desperation, and piercing loneliness.

Continuing his run, Ethan's attention is soon captured by the sound of heavy objects being moved. The distinct noise of wooden planks being hammered into place echoes from a second-floor apartment. A middle-aged man is fortifying his home a few hundred meters away.

A detonation, muffled by a silencer, comes from a basement. A group of soldiers is cleaning up a kobold nest. The government prohibited civilians from hunting monsters themselves and formed units dedicated to their eradication. Usually it goes silent, but sometimes you can hear helicopters using thirty-millimeters canons inside the city.

The engine of a lightly armored vehicle reaches Ethan's ears from the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. Its forty-millimeter autocannon is enough to kill the wyverns that invaded the skies. Many of these vehicles, known as JAGUARs, watch over the main crossroads, institutions, and monuments of the city.

A crowd of rioters is assembling at the Trocadero, protesting the use of emergency powers by the government to issue laws and decrees. The most controversial is the obligation to present your status to law enforcement upon request. The police conduct random checks on anyone perceived to possess abilities above the norm. Furthermore, entry into nearly all public spaces is now contingent upon the presentation of one's status.

'I need to raise the rank of anonymity,' Ethan thinks. Tombstone warned him that many countries around the world use those controls to forcibly recruit powerful individuals into their ranks.

A whistle pierces Ethan's ears. He turns around to see a cop gesturing for him to stop. He jogs towards Ethan, a Benelli M4 slapping against his plate carrier. "Do you know how fast you were going?" the cop asks, his tone authoritative and unfriendly.

Russ growls at the aggressive cop. 'Leave it,' Ethan thinks before saying, "Am I getting a speeding ticket?"

"ID and status, and tell me why he isn't in a muzzle," the cop orders.

Russ growls again as the cop's tone and posture become more aggressive. His fur shivers as he triggers his newly acquired growth ability. Before the cop can notice, Ethan orders, "Leave it, down." Russ obeys, turning his gaze to a flock of pigeons eating breadcrumbs.

"Malinois are not categorized in France; only Rottweilers, Pitbulls, and associated dogs need to wear a muzzle," Ethan explains in a calm tone as he pulls out his false passport. "Status," he says, triggering Anonymity at the same time.

"Twenty strength at level three; you must be addicted to the gym." The cop notes, typing something on his phone.

"Five days a week, sometimes twice a day," Ethan confirms.

"You can go; keep your speed down. I don't want you slamming into a kid at thirty per hour."

"I will, good day officer," Ethan says, tossing a treat at Russ, who catches it midflight.

As Ethan turns around to resume his jogging, he almost collides with a giant. The man's thick black beard and long hair throw Ethan into another of Maleor's memories. He's in a crowd, waiting for his king to begin a speech. The regent appears on a balcony, his long, curly black hair topped with an imposing crown of gold and rubies. The memory continues for a few long seconds, but Ethan hears none of his speech as anger and incomprehension fill his mind.

The memory morphs into the present, and time stutters as Ethan moves away from the central alleys. The noises around him fade into a muted backdrop. A suffocating pressure builds in his chest, his heart pounding fiercely against his ribs. His vision narrows as images of the king flash before his eyes. Images come not from Maleor's memory but from his own, from a time when he was a child.

Ethan's breath comes in sharp, jagged gasps, each one a struggle, as if the air around him had thickened. His entire body trembles and shivers beyond his control. The memory of his childhood home, grand and imposing, engulfed in flames, fills his mind.

He remembers the man discussing with his father; their conversation muffled through the thick walls of the mansion. Their conversation ended abruptly with the sharp, unmistakable crack of gunfire. Ethan only caught a glimpse of the man as he exited his father's room, hidden in a cabinet. The mansion burned down that night, the fire emerging from Ethan's father's desk room.

This man is the reason Ethan joined N.E.S.T, to hunt him down. Amidst the overwhelming flood of memories and emotions, Russ suddenly headbutts Ethan on the chin. The sharp pain snaps Ethan out of his spiraling panic, anchoring him back to reality. As Ethan sits to catch his breath, Russ whines worriedly at his feet, looking up at him with concerned eyes.

Finally calming down, Ethan pulls out his phone and calls Tombstone.

"Welcome back, Reaper five," she says in her usual tone.

Ethan hesitates for a second and says, "I need to fly to England."