The suffocating stillness of the city is shattered by a tremor that reverberates through the very bones of the earth. A deep rumble shakes the ground beneath your feet, a crushing wave of sound that surges through the narrow streets, pushing everything before it with the weight of an unseen force. It slams against the towering walls encircling the city, a deafening echo that ricochets off the cold stone, turning into a great roaring cacophony that rolls through the air.

Then, the belltower tolls. The heavy, vibrating chimes clash with the wave of noise, reverberating through the dusty alleys and the dilapidated structures. The ground beneath seems to tremble with the resonance, stirring up layers of grime and dirt that have accumulated in the forgotten corners of this broken city.

For a moment, there is silence—a pregnant pause before the world explodes into chaos. Stillness gives way to the ear-piercing cheers and shrieks of a crowd swelling in the streets. People pour from the buildings like rats fleeing from a sinking ship, some frantic and desperate, others armed, eyes set on their destination with grim determination. They move in hurried, panicked strides, while others advance with the cold precision of soldiers, every step measured, every action deliberate, as if prepared for a battle that never really ends.

High above, in the towering citadel at the heart of the city, the elite watch with detached amusement. The grand structure casts its harsh, artificial lights onto the chaotic crowd below, illuminating the madness. In lavish dining rooms, the clink of glasses and the laughter of those in power fill the air, blending with the rich aroma of sizzling meats and rich wines.

A low chuckle breaks the conversation, quieting the din of eager chatter as piercing grey eyes raise to meet the gaze of those assembled around the table. A large, calloused hand lifts a goblet of crimson wine, so thick it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

"The portal has opened," Edward's voice purrs, rich and amused. "Let's toast to another exciting round of hunts."

He raises his glass higher, his smile wide and calculated, his eyes lingering on his companions as they follow his gesture with strained smiles, all knowing the game at hand. His laugh is as deep as his smile is polite, neither of it genuine. But neither is anyone in this gathering. The Grand Hotel, a place of decadence and indulgence, holds within it the truth that lives are as expendable as mere amusements, where every day could be the last for those not favoured with a place at their tables.

Meanwhile, far to the north under the central station, a bright light pulses from deep within the machinery, its gears grinding faster and faster with each heartbeat. As the light builds in intensity, it pierces the roof, breaking through the sky with an unearthly brilliance. A grotesque image of Earth is projected into the heavens, casting a distorted reflection for all to see—people walking, children laughing, lovers entwined in blissful oblivion.

But as the seconds tick by, the image begins to warp and decay, fading like a photograph left too long in the sun. Figures vanish from the mirrored world, one by one, until the streets are empty. Then, the illusion collapses into reality. The reflection shatters, fragments of the mirage tumbling down into the plaza, crashing together, melding with the city's jagged edges.

You materialize suddenly, disoriented and confused, surrounded by other newcomers—unwilling actors in a game you don't understand. Nervous whispers fill the air as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. The tension is broken by the sudden collision of panicked natives, their screams cutting through the murk. Those first to flee knock into you and the others who now find yourselves nothing more than playthings for the dining elites.

Then you see him—a man with bulging eyes and a blackened, grotesque head, holding a cleaver the size of a child. The sight sends panic into overdrive as the blade slashes through the air. With a sickening thud, the first arm is cleaved from its owner, sending it spinning into the crowd. Once silent, the city now erupts into a symphony of terror—screams mingling with the eerie, distorted laughter of the watchers above.

"Run!" someone shrieks beside you.