Unwritten Mythos

In a bar, the atmosphere was thick with tension and the lingering scent of alcohol. A few men exchanged glances, then turned their eyes toward a drunken girl slumped at the counter. She was an easy target, or so they thought.

"Ai ai... Not much difference," one of them muttered, his voice laced with predatory intent.

A blond-haired man, clearly the leader, twisted his neck as he swaggered over to the girl. His steps were slow and deliberate, a smirk creeping across his face. He reached out a hand, but before he could make contact, a firm grip clamped down on his wrist.

He looked up, startled, to see a man in a raincoat standing beside him, his expression unreadable.

"Hmm? You, what does that mean? Do you want to rob?" the blond sneered, trying to shake off the grip.

The raincoat-clad man remained silent, his gaze cold. Without a word, he applied just enough pressure, and the sickening crack of bone echoed through the bar.

"Argh... You, you!" The blond man dropped to his knees, clutching his now-broken wrist in agony. His curses filled the air as he frantically gestured to the men behind him, calling for backup.

But the moment they saw Chino, their bravado evaporated.

"That... Brother Hao, how about we just forget it?" one of them suggested, his voice trembling.

"What are you farting about? He broke my damn wrist!" the blond, Brother Hao, hissed through gritted teeth. Yet, despite his bravado, there was a flicker of fear in his eyes.

The rest of the group hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. They had seen Chino before—once was enough to know better.

It had been some time ago when they had come across a dying dog. They had intended to torment the poor creature, seeing it off in a cruel, twisted way. But Chino had appeared out of nowhere, beating them senseless before they could lay a finger on the animal.

Angry and humiliated, they had gathered more men—calling in all the local thugs and tough guys to teach Chino a lesson. But every time, the outcome was the same. No matter how many they called, Chino would put them all down with terrifying ease.

After five or six failed attempts, the entire area learned to stay clear of him. Chino's reputation as the unchallenged owner of the streets was cemented.

As they whispered this story to Brother Hao, his face drained of color. The names they mentioned—names he recognized, names that had been defeated—struck fear into his heart. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he backed away, swallowing his pride.

Without another word, Brother Hao turned and fled, his group following closely behind, leaving the bar in tense silence.

Chino stood still, letting the noise of the bar fade behind him. He approached the girl, who was barely holding herself upright. Her glazed eyes met his, and she squinted as if trying to focus.

"Huh, let's say... let's say you came to apologize..." she slurred, her voice thick with alcohol. "I... I won't forgive you, Chino... Unless you... accompany me... for a drink."

The bartender glanced at Chino, offering a polite inquiry. "Sir, would you like something to drink?"

Chino shook his head. "No need."

Water—his eternal taboo. He neither drank it nor needed it.

The girl frowned in confusion. "Then... what are you doing here? What are you doing?"

"Just passing by. By coincidence," Chino replied, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.

She pouted and leaned forward, her hand reaching out. "Where's your phone... give it to me."

"Didn't bring it. Afraid it would get wet." Chino's voice was indifferent, almost distant. He hadn't carried a phone in ages. Too many times it had been ruined—soaked, smashed, or destroyed in battle. It became a nuisance he decided to live without.

The girl continued to ramble, her words drifting into incoherence, and Chino simply listened in silence. He didn't respond, not until she finally slumped forward, resting her head on the bar.

With a resigned sigh, Chino raised a hand and gently shook her. "Where are you now?"

"Uhm..." The girl mumbled, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

Chino shook his head, then decided to take her out of the bar. As he helped her to her feet, she suddenly grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly firm for someone so intoxicated.

"Where do you want to... go?" she asked, her voice thick with a mix of confusion and desperation.

"I..." Chino began, but before he could finish, she pulled him closer, her lips crashing into his. The sudden kiss took him by surprise, and he felt her tongue try to enter his mouth. But instead of warmth, she was met with something else—his mouth was bone dry, devoid of any moisture.

In an instant, his skin began to transform. Fish scales erupted across his face, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. The change was happening too quickly.

Realizing the danger, Chino pushed her away and spat out the liquid in his mouth. He couldn't afford to lose control, not here.

The girl stumbled back, her eyes wide with hurt and confusion. "Do you really hate me that much? Then why... why did you come all the way to find me?"

Chino didn't have an answer for her, or perhaps he didn't want to give one. He turned his back on her and began to leave.

"If you leave today," she called after him, her voice trembling with emotion, "don't come looking for me in the future!"

"Okay," Chino said coldly, without a moment's hesitation. He walked out of the bar, leaving her behind.

His heart was untouched by her plea. The truth was simple: close contact with others—especially women—was a risk he couldn't afford. For Chino, intimacy was fatal. Sweat, movement, proximity—all triggers that could undo him.

Perhaps it was better this way. If he ever wanted to protect someone, the only way was to stay away.

As he strode through the night, Chino felt a tug on his consciousness. The other monsters, the Familiars, shared no such restraint. Like Queen Bee, who had once decided without hesitation that a girl who knew too much had to die. Feelings were irrelevant in their world.

Chino's thoughts were interrupted when a man suddenly appeared in front of him, falling to his knees. The desperation in his voice was palpable. "King, I... I want to turn back to human. Please... please turn me back!"

Chino turned his gaze to the man, cold and detached. "I can't even turn myself back into a human. Why would I know how to turn you back?"

The man's plea hung in the air as Chino continued. "The world is unjust, but the power the Lord grants is righteous. With every gain, there is a loss. You asked for power like mine, and now you bear the consequences."

With that, Chino turned away, his words lingering in the man's ears.

Suddenly, a low hum filled the air, pulling Chino from his thoughts. He looked up to see a fleet of large transport helicopters slicing through the sky. They moved with purpose, a sign that something big was about to unfold.

...

Enko had gradually integrated himself into the murky depths of the Black Fang Bar, where the Fish-Man group held court. He had begun to peel back the layers of their secrets, and with each revelation, he gained a clearer understanding of the shadowy web that connected the city's monsters.

In Yang District, two dominant forces held sway over the underworld. On one side was the Fish-Man group, a faction that slithered through the crowds, blending seamlessly into the sprawling cities. Their reach was vast, spreading like tendrils across the district, hidden in plain sight.

On the other side was the Queen Bee group. Unlike the Fish-Men, Queen Bee's influence was confined to a single place: Nanyan. The Fish-Men referred to it as the beehive, a place so dangerous that they warned Enko to steer clear if he didn't want to get stung.

Enko's phone buzzed unexpectedly. He glanced at the screen and answered cautiously, "Who is this?"

A raspy cough echoed from the other end.

"Cough cough... Enko, it's me."

"Director?" Enko recognized the voice—it belonged to the director of the police station. But wasn't he supposed to be delivering documents?

A sense of unease crept in. "What's wrong? Is there a monster attacking you? Where are you? I'll come help!"

"Cough... No, wait. I just got to the capital, and the climate's throwing me off. Caught a cold, but that's not the issue."

The director's tone sharpened. "Listen carefully, Enko. Avee's proposal has been approved! The Kitsune brigade have set off!"

Enko tightened his grip on the phone, his mind racing. "What do we need to do?"

The director's voice was firm, "This time, the commander, Varian, is in charge. He's heard you have a strong understanding of monsters, so he wants you to assist them in their actions."

"Assist in action..." Enko's thoughts swirled as he asked, "How many people are coming this time?"

"Three hundred. The target is Nanyan."

Three hundred? That wasn't enough. Not even close. If the Fish-Man group was forced to mobilize, those numbers wouldn't be sufficient at all.

As Enko tried to process the implications, the bedroom door burst open. A fat man, panting heavily, barged in and snatched the phone from Enko's hand.

"Enko can't go!" the fat man shouted into the phone. "If Enko goes to help, the Kitsune brigade will be completely annihilated! Including Enko—they will all die!"

Enko stared at the fat man in disbelief. "Hey, who are you?"

The man turned to him, eyes wide with urgency. "It doesn't matter who I am right now. Just remember this—you cannot leave today, no matter what. If you do, it's all over!"

Without another word, the fat man hung up the phone and tossed it back to Enko.

"By the way," the man added, a strange calmness settling over his face, "my name is Tang Yan. Like you, I have some special abilities."

Enko blinked, still trying to catch up with the situation. "Have you ever seen a novel I wrote?" Tang Yan asked casually.

"A novel?" Enko repeated, bewildered. "What novel?"

"Unprovoked Diary," Tang Yan said with a hint of pride.

The name struck a chord in Enko's memory. "Unprovoked Diary... that does sound familiar..."

Unprovoked Diary—he had definitely heard of it. Wasn't that the webnovel that predicted the future? The first information about the Fish-Man had come from it.

He turned to Tang Yan, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "You're the author of that novel, right? So... you can actually see the future?"

Tang Yan nodded calmly. "Not bad. And it's not just a novel—I really have a diary."

As he spoke, Tang Yan pulled a well-worn book from his bag. "There are some unusual items in this world," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "They might look like ordinary objects—a book, a sound clip, even a mobile phone. But these things have inexplicable, almost scientific, powers."

He held up the diary, its cover plain and unassuming. "This diary, for example, has the ability to predict the future."

Enko stared at the diary, trying to wrap his head around what Tang Yan was saying. Tang Yan continued, "I believe you can understand because this diary told me that you and I would meet. Not just that—we will eventually join the same organization and become collaborators."

"However," Tang Yan added, "that's something that happens in the distant future. Knowing it ahead of time, I decided to find you sooner."

He looked at Enko with a steady gaze. "Can you understand?"

Enko's skepticism lingered, but Tang Yan's persistence made him pause. "Alright," Enko said, crossing his arms, "tell me something that will make me believe you. If you can predict the future, you should have seen this conversation coming, right?"

Tang Yan took a deep breath, clearly used to dealing with doubt. "Today's lottery numbers," he said, with a half-smile, "but don't get too excited. If you buy a ticket, the future will change. Just check the results tomorrow."

Enko raised an eyebrow as Tang Yan continued, "I learned this the hard way. Once, I bought fifty tickets after seeing the winning numbers in my dream. The result? The numbers changed."

The bitterness in Tang Yan's voice was hard to miss, and Enko found himself thinking it over. "Alright, let's say I believe you. Why can't I go on this mission? Why will I die if I go? Is that written in your diary?"

Tang Yan nodded, flipping open the diary. The pages were filled with dates and cryptic notes. "First, let me explain how this works," he began. "To use the diary, I write down a specific event I want to see and mark it. That night, I'll dream about that event or person. For example, if I want to know the lottery numbers, I write it down and dream about it."

He paused, glancing up at Enko. "A few days ago, I didn't know anything about you. But I wanted to see my future self. And guess what I saw?"

"You dreamed about me," Enko said, his tone flat.

Tang Yan grinned. "Exactly. In the dream, you and I were fighting side by side, going through all kinds of chaos together."

"Get to the point," Enko interrupted.

Tang Yan's grin faltered, but he quickly recovered. "Fine. What I'm saying is, after that dream, I started observing your future. And what I found was a disaster—a fatal one. You die, Enko. Everyone who goes with you dies. That's why, no matter what, you can't go."

Enko's mind raced, picking apart Tang Yan's story. "So, you say we'll meet in the future," Enko began, "but just now, you told me I'd die soon. Isn't that a contradiction?"

Tang Yan hesitated, and that pause made Enko's suspicions deepen. If Tang Yan claimed they met in the future, then it meant in that future, Tang Yan hadn't come to warn him. That would imply Enko still went on the mission and didn't die. The logic was twisted, and it didn't sit right with Enko.

His brows furrowed, and he pressed further. "In that future you saw, did you also try to stop me like this?"

Tang Yan's face froze for a moment before he mumbled, "Eh... not much different."

The uncertainty in his voice was like a siren to Enko's instincts. This guy wasn't as reliable as he wanted to seem.

"Then tell me," Enko said, narrowing his eyes, "what did the monster that killed me look like?"

Tang Yan's hesitation grew. "I… I can't remember. But just don't go, alright?"

Enko's patience was wearing thin. "One last time, are you absolutely sure you can predict the future?"

Tang Yan straightened up, his voice more forceful now. "Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure!"

Enko stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Then look into my eyes and tell me everything you've said is the truth."

There was a beat of silence, then Tang Yan's confidence crumbled. He couldn't hold Enko's gaze. He was lying, and now Enko knew it.

In fact, Tang Yan wasn't Enko's future companion.

In the future, Tang Yan reveled in the profits he made with his future-predicting diary. His days were a whirlwind of indulgence and ease—until the secret police showed up.

Leading the operation was Enko.

They were a specialized unit, dealing with supernatural phenomena, and their arrival was Tang Yan's undoing. He was swiftly captured, his prized diary seized, and his status downgraded to a D-level employee within the organization. To Tang Yan, this was nothing short of a nightmare. The D-level position was akin to being a lab rat, subjected to relentless experiments and stripped of any semblance of freedom.

In this bleak future, there was only one person who offered him any hope: Enko. To alter his fate, Tang Yan had no choice but to act preemptively.

...

"Take some of the Fish-Man's body parts?"

"That's right. We'll provide you with support for this mission. Your task is to lure out two Fish-Men alone. The rest will be handled by us."

"After today's operation, you'll be officially assigned to a Kitsune member, I heard you're looking forward to that?"

"Yes," Enko replied, his eyes narrowing. "But I want to carry out this mission alone. I don't need any help or assistance."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Fish-Men have an extensive sense of their surroundings. If they detect that we've prepared a team, the chances of failure increase significantly. Since I'm already embedded in their inner circle, it's better if I work alone."

"Alright, then according to your plan, we'll stay outside Yang District and provide support. Keep the phone's location on at all times."

"Understood."

With the call ended, Enko slipped the communicator into his pocket and headed towards the Black Fang Bar.

He wiped off the foundation to reveal fish scales and removed his contact lenses, exposing his golden eyes.

"If I don't want to be killed by monsters," he muttered to himself, "I'll have to kill them first before they get the chance."

...

Black Fang Bar.

The Bald Fish-Man eyed Enko, his gaze sharp. "Come on, you're late today!"

Enko flashed a faint smile. "Ah, ran into some trouble along the way."

Noticing the yellow pupils and the scales forming on Enko's face, the Bald Fish-Man's brows furrowed. "Is it raining outside? Why are you starting to transform?"

Enko chuckled. "Accidentally got a bit of blood on me."

"Some passersby didn't know how to mind their own business. Bumped into me, and in a fit of anger, I killed them all. Now, I've got no idea what to do with the bodies."

The Bald Fish-Man sighed deeply. "Kid, you young ones are always so impulsive. You've got to think things through. Where are these bodies?"

"Not far outside," Enko replied smoothly.

The Bald Fish-Man stretched his muscles a little, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, since you're new, I'll help you clean up this mess."

"Da, lend a hand," he called out.

A blue-haired man nearby grumbled, "Why should I help? You go deal with it yourself."

"Are you going or not? Do you want to come or not..."

"Alright, alright, don't threaten me! I'm coming."

The blue-haired man joined Enko, glaring at him as they prepared to leave. "Lead the way, newbie. The sooner we clean up, the sooner we get back."

Enko calmly led the two men through the alleyways, turning onto a more secluded road. The shadows stretched longer here, far away from prying eyes.

"We're here," Enko announced, stopping suddenly.

The Bald Fish-Man frowned, suspicion creeping in. "So, where are the bodies?"

At that moment, Enko's fist shot out like a bullet, connecting squarely with the bald Fish-Man's head.

*Bang!*

The impact sent a spray of blood flying, and the Fish-Man staggered back, clutching his face in shock. "Damn it, are you crazy, brat?"

Enko looked at his blood-soaked hand, his voice cold. "You asked where the body is? I'm about to show you."

The other Fish-Man stared at Enko, realization dawning too late. "Wait, how come you... you can't transform? No, you're not a Fish-Man!"

Without a word, Enko grabbed a steel rod lying nearby and drove it into the Fish-Man's temple.

Pfft!

The Fish-Man's head crumpled under the force, the steel sinking deep into bone. Enko kept pressing, pinning the lifeless body against the wall before turning his gaze back to the bald man, who had now fully transformed in his bloodied panic.

"You... you're not..."

Bang!

Enko's foot collided with the bald Fish-Man's chest, sending him crashing to the ground. He followed up with a series of brutal punches, each one reducing the man's protests to gurgles and gasps until finally, silence.

Enko straightened up, shaking the blood from his hands, and pressed a button on his transmitter. "Mission finished. Come collect."

A voice crackled through the earpiece, incredulous. "What? That fast?"

Enko glanced down at the two bodies sprawled at his feet. The second Fish-Man hadn't even fully transformed before Enko ended him. This was no different than killing humans—swift, methodical, cold.

And yet, his expression remained unchanged.

...

When the collection team finally arrived, nearly ten minutes had passed. Enko sat calmly on a stone, his hands stained with congealed blood.

The team member moved to the bald man's body, fully transformed into his Fish-Man form. But when he looked at the one pinned to the wall, he saw only a human appearance. Did this one had been killed before he could even transform.

He glanced at Enko, who seemed unfazed, almost disturbingly so.

Noticing the hesitation, Enko popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth. "I don't care what they look like. If they're monsters, I'll take them down without a second thought."

The other man stood up, a curious smile on his face. "And what about you? You're no different from them now."

Enko looked up, his golden eyes steady. "So what?"

The man chuckled, extending a hand. "Just messing with you. Welcome to the Kitsune, comrade."

Enko grasped his hand firmly, rising to his feet. "If you ever need to study me, go ahead. But remember, I'd rather die on the battlefield than in some lab."

"Don't worry," the man said with a reassuring nod. "We take care of our own."

...

"Pssssssss..."

"Call chief, this is Kitsune 01 brigade. I am front line commander Varian. We have successfully arrived at Yang District. Over."

Inside the transport helicopter, a group of heavily armed soldiers prepared for the mission. Every inch of their skin was tightly covered, and their heads were encased in helmets equipped with tactical optical filters and communication devices—dual-purpose night vision and heat sensors, with satellite mapping displayed on their visors.

Their weapons were just as advanced, each soldier gripping a high-caliber assault rifle, meticulously designed for close combat.

"Nanyan is three hundred meters ahead," Varian reported, his voice steady. "Estimated time of arrival: five minutes."

"SNB Number 004—Queen Bee," he continued, reading off the dossier. "According to Enko's intel, the target appears as a plump, feminine figure. Her hands are skeletal, with ten fingers capable of shooting spikes laced with neurotoxin."

He paused, letting the information sink in among the squad.

"This neurotoxin doesn't just kill. It controls minds, distorts senses, and, most disturbingly, transforms male life forms into female ones. Beiling City's authorities are under her control, protecting her and detaining anyone who opposes her."