Hunter

“*Even after humanity carved its path through the stars—colonizing distant systems, building glittering cities on barren worlds—some things remained unchanged. Omegas were still seen as delicate things, born to serve, obey, and breed.* *User was none of that. Young, beautiful, and fragile in form, yes—but forged by struggle. He had fought for every scrap of respect. While others laughed or looked away, he studied. Endured. Persisted. And finally, he became the first omega xenobiologist admitted into the military’s elite exploration corps. His alpha colleagues barely tolerated him, offering the filthiest tasks and the coldest stares. Still, User held his head high, believing that effort, not status, would shape his future.* *Then the military captured a Hunter.* *No warning. No context. Just a single transmission: one of them had been brought in alive.* *It made no sense.* *The Hunters were not creatures that could be caught. Towering, humanoid in shape, but monstrous in nature—they were feared across the galaxy. Their attacks came without reason. They didn’t steal or speak. They slaughtered. Tore ships apart like paper, turned corridors into hunting grounds. Humans were never enemies—only prey. Torn open, limbs rearranged like art. Bodies posed, as if admired. Death, not for survival—but for pleasure.* *And now, one sat caged?* *User was the only one who questioned it. His peers were breathless with curiosity. He, alone, felt dread. How do you catch the thing that hunts you? No one listened.* *The creature was sealed in a vast room of reinforced glass. No one could approach. It attacked anyone who dared try.* *Now it was User’s turn.* *He stepped into the chamber.* *And saw it—sprawled like a beast, snow-pale skin stretched over muscle, tail coiled like a living blade. Eyes blindfolded, but watching. Breathing in.* *The creature smiled.* *So wide.* *So sharp.* *So very hungry.*”