ã€ŠThe World That Brokeã€‹


 001 End of the World

    I

    I didn¡¯t hear the explosion until it was already too late.

    The roof had practically caved in, and the walls shook like they¡¯d had enough of this life. Smoke and dust filled the room, but my attention was fixed on her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Reynard¡­¡± Her voice was calm, but her eyes told a different story¡ªfear, guilt, and a quiet kind of desperation. ¡°My past came back to haunt me, and now I have to go. I should be able to keep them off your back for some time, but you¡¯ll have to do your part. Live, my love¡­ and I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    Then she was gone.

    I stared at the baby in my arms. Leonard. Two months old. My son.

    He gurgled, completely unaware of the chaos around him. Lucky kid.

    The ceiling groaned, protesting its near destruction, and I glanced at one of the grunts sprawled across the floor. The poor guy looked like he was trying to decide whether to groan in pain or just die quietly.

    I sighed, adjusting Leonard in my arms. ¡°Not exactly how I pictured fatherhood,¡± I muttered.

    Ten years ago, I¡¯d transmigrated into this world. Back then, I thought it was a rustic parallel universe¡ªno big deal. Then came the hunters, aura powers, forbidden regions, and secret organizations, crashing into my life like uninvited guests at a party.

    And now? Now I was holding the protagonist of Hunterworks, the novel I wrote back on Earth. My son. Leonard. Leon. Our baby boy.

    Me?

    I¡¯m just a mundane¡­

    Name? Reynard.

    Age? 27 years old.

    Status? Single father.

    Feeling? Totally screwed.

    The grunt on the floor coughed, interrupting my pity party. I flipped him over with my foot, his body flopping like a sack of bad decisions. He groaned weakly, his chest torn open from one of my wife¡¯s aura strikes.

    Leonard babbled happily, and I turned his face away. No way was I letting my two-month-old watch what I was about to do.

    I grabbed the grunt¡¯s gun and shot him in the face. Clean. No hesitation.

    ¡°Just in case,¡± I muttered, blowing the smoke from the barrel. Aura was powerful, sure, but a bullet between the eyebrows? That was a classic.

    The garage wasn¡¯t far, but my legs felt like lead as I ran. The car was still there, thank God. I strapped Leonard into the baby seat, threw my bag in the passenger seat, and peeled out of the driveway.

    Three years ago, I fell in love. Hard. The kind of love that made you believe in happy endings. But there¡¯s always a catch, isn¡¯t there?

    My wife had a past I never questioned, secrets I never uncovered. And now, those secrets were my problem.

    Leora said she¡¯d buy me time. How much? A month, maybe. Enough to disappear.

    My priority was survival¡ªmine and Leonard¡¯s. Everything else could wait.

    By the time I reached the next city, I had a plan. Step one: clean out my bank account. Step two: buy supplies. Step three: vanish.

    The shopping spree was surreal. Solar panels, canned food, a compound bow, a machete¡ªmy cart looked like I was prepping for the apocalypse.

    ¡°This is the best I can do,¡± I muttered as I loaded the car. ¡°And hopefully, this is enough...¡±

    The next few days were a blur of hitchhiking and hiding. I sold the car halfway through, ditched anything traceable, and kept moving north. Leonard, thankfully, was an easy baby. Barely cried, barely ate. Probably the hunter genes.

    Finally, after four exhausting days, I reached the Mivih Mountains. The air was crisp, the trees were tall, and the silence was almost peaceful.

    Almost.

    Leonard¡¯s cry broke the stillness, and I froze. ¡°What now?¡± I muttered, trying to soothe him.

    That¡¯s when I heard the rustling.

    A tiger emerged from the trees, its golden eyes locked onto us.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, rolling my eyes. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t there be a tiger?¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Before I could even think of a plan, Leonard waved his tiny hand. A fireball¡ªan actual fireball¡ªshot out and hit the tiger square in the side.

    The beast yelped and bolted, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

    I stared at Leonard, who was now giggling like he¡¯d just done the funniest thing in the world.

    ¡°Yep,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°Definitely hunter genes.¡±

    The Mivih Mountains were beautiful in a way that didn¡¯t quite match the rest of the world. The trees were impossibly tall, their trunks thick and ancient, as if they¡¯d been standing guard for centuries. The air was crisp, carrying a faint pine scent mixed with the earthy aroma of damp soil. Peaks jutted into the sky, jagged and snow-capped, their tips catching the golden light of the setting sun. It was the kind of scenery that would¡¯ve made me pause and admire it¡ªif I wasn¡¯t so close to losing my mind.

    My head throbbed with exhaustion, and every muscle in my body screamed in protest. I¡¯d barely slept in four days, my nerves frayed from constantly looking over my shoulder. Even now, standing in this tranquil wilderness, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that someone¡ªor something¡ªwas watching me.

    Paranoia, maybe. Or instincts. At this point, I couldn¡¯t tell the difference.

    Leonard was dozing off in his carrier, his tiny chest rising and falling with each soft breath. He looked so peaceful, so blissfully unaware of the chaos that had become our lives.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered to myself, setting the carrier down gently on a patch of grass. ¡°Time to get to work.¡±

    I scouted the area first, making sure we weren¡¯t about to stumble into a den of tigers or worse. The forest was dense, but I found a small clearing not far from a freshwater stream. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it would do for now.

    The next hour was a blur of activity. I cleared the ground of rocks and debris, using the machete to cut away some underbrush. Then, I set up the tent¡ªa compact, lightweight thing I¡¯d bought in the city. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would keep us dry if the weather turned.

    Next came the fire. I gathered sticks and dry leaves, arranging them in a neat little pile before striking the camp lighter. The flame sputtered to life, warm and comforting in the growing darkness.

    As the fire crackled, I unpacked some of the supplies: canned food, a pot for boiling water, and a few solar-powered lamps. My hands worked mechanically, my mind running in circles.

    What now?

    That question had been haunting me since Leora left. She¡¯d bought us time, but how much? A month? A week? And what was I supposed to do with that time? Hide out in the mountains forever? Train Leonard to survive in this insane world?

    It was painful feeling so uncertain.

    Trusting Leora wasn¡¯t the issue.

    ¡°It felt so wrong to be ignorant¡­¡±

    I stared at the fire, the flames dancing and crackling like they had answers.

    The truth was, I had no idea what I was doing. I was just a mundane guy trying to keep my son alive in a world that didn¡¯t make sense anymore.

    The shadows stretched long as night settled in. The forest came alive with the sounds of rustling leaves, chirping insects, and the occasional distant howl. I tightened my grip on the machete, every noise setting my nerves on edge.

    Leonard stirred, letting out a soft whimper. I reached over and gently rocked his carrier, humming a lullaby I barely remembered from my childhood. He settled down, his little fingers curling into a fist.

    For a moment, the weight of it all felt unbearable. The fear, the exhaustion, the crushing responsibility of keeping this tiny human alive¡ªit pressed down on me like a mountain of its own.

    But then I looked at Leonard, his peaceful face illuminated by the soft glow of the fire. And somehow, that was enough to keep me going.

    ¡°Alright, kid,¡± I whispered, leaning back against a tree. ¡°We made it through today. Let¡¯s see if we can make it through tomorrow.¡±

    With that, I closed my eyes, the machete resting on my lap, and let the exhaustion pull me under.

    I knew it was a dream. It could only be a dream.

    I was standing in the middle of a street, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and scenery. Everything felt so alien yet disturbingly mundane. The language around me sounded familiar, the people looked like they could have been neighbors from my childhood, but I was utterly lost.

    Seventeen years old. I had just finished Senior High School. Back then, I had plans, a future. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. The next day, I woke up homeless in a world that wasn¡¯t my own.

    Transmigration. Isekai. Parallel reality. Call it whatever you want¡ªit didn¡¯t matter. At the time, I thought it was awesome. Maybe this ¡°other¡± world would be something out of my favorite stories, full of heroes, powers, or adventures. I was naive, young, and stupid.

    But no. It wasn¡¯t some magical or futuristic world. It was painfully ordinary. Mundane in every sense of the word.

    Reality hit hard, and I adjusted as best I could. Being homeless sucked. Every night was a fight to find a place to sleep, and every day was a struggle to survive. But I worked hard. Scrimped and saved until I could afford my first laptop. I poured myself into writing stories, clinging to the hobbies and dreams of the life I¡¯d left behind.

    It wasn¡¯t the life I¡¯d imagined, but I made it work. I got used to the mundane. The quiet monotony of a world that didn¡¯t ask for much but also didn¡¯t offer much in return.

    And then, like some cruel twist of fate, this ¡°plot development¡± came crashing into my life.

    When I woke up, the relief was immediate. I was still in the forest. Still hidden. Still safe¡ªfor now.

    I sat up, glancing around the small camp I¡¯d set up. The morning air was cool, the light filtering through the trees casting dappled shadows on the ground. It should have been peaceful, but my mind was racing.

    ¡°This is too much,¡± I muttered under my breath. Everything was happening too fast.

    I rubbed my face, trying to calm myself down. I looked over at Leon, still asleep in his bundle of blankets, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. For a moment, the sight of him calmed me.

    ¡°I just want to be a good dad,¡± I whispered.

    But even as I said it, the weight of everything pressed down on me. The truth I¡¯d been avoiding stared me in the face, unrelenting and cruel.

    This wasn¡¯t just some setback. This wasn¡¯t a rough patch I could power through with grit and determination.

    ¡°This is the end of the world for me,¡± I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

    And in that moment, I knew it wasn¡¯t hyperbole. This wasn¡¯t the life I¡¯d planned or wanted, but it was the one I had now. The mundane world I¡¯d once adjusted to had turned on its head, and now I was left clinging to the scraps of a reality I could barely control.

    I took a deep breath, standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants. The forest was quiet, but the silence wasn¡¯t comforting¡ªit was foreboding.

    I had no idea what was coming next. All I knew was that I couldn¡¯t afford to stop. Not for me. Not for Leon.

    If this was the end of the world for me, then I¡¯d face it head-on.

    <del>Because I had no choice.</del>

    ~001

 002 Scribbles in the Dark

    II

    It had been two years since we left the world behind, trading city life for survival in the wilderness. I never thought I¡¯d end up living in a cave, but here we were. Our tent had been shredded to pieces after just two months of mountain storms, and with no other option, I¡¯d turned to the nearest shelter I could find¡ªa damp, dark cave.

    The cave was a work in progress, to say the least. I¡¯d fashioned some shoddy furniture from sticks and scrap wood, and my proudest achievement was the water system I rigged up with bamboo. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but it worked. Every time I looked around, I was reminded of my lack of preparation. No tools, no real skills, and definitely no experience with DIY construction. But somehow, we¡¯d made it work.

    Leon, on the other hand, was thriving. At just two years old, he was a little ball of energy. He¡¯d started walking at ten months, and now? He ran, climbed, and jumped like he was training for some toddler Olympics.

    As if to prove it, he darted across the cave toward me, giggling uncontrollably. Before I could stop him, he grabbed onto my leg and started climbing like a cat scaling a tree. ¡°Leon, seriously?¡± I said, but I couldn¡¯t help smiling.

    By the time he perched himself on my shoulders, babbling nonsense into my ear, I was already laughing. ¡°Alright, monkey, time to come down.¡± I carefully pried him off and placed him in his makeshift crib¡ªa contraption that was more optimistic than engineering. I knew it wouldn¡¯t hold him for long.

    Sure enough, within seconds, Leon was standing in the crib, gripping the edges and bouncing as if daring the thing to collapse. His wide, mischievous grin told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

    ¡°Leon, take it easy,¡± I warned, but he just babbled something unintelligible in response.

    That babbling was starting to worry me. Physically, he was way ahead of the curve, but verbally? Not so much. Every day, I talked to him, repeating words and phrases, hoping he¡¯d pick up something. Anything. But so far, all I¡¯d gotten were random sounds.

    I leaned against the wall of the cave, watching him with a mix of pride and concern. Was something wrong? Shouldn¡¯t he have said at least a word or two by now?

    ¡°Bla-bla-bluba~!¡± he babbled, grinning up at me with those big, innocent eyes.

    ¡°Well, at least you¡¯re trying,¡± I said with a smirk. ¡°Guess my boy¡¯s not exactly a genius. Must¡¯ve gotten that from your mom.¡±

    He responded with a string of babbles as if defending himself.

    Shaking my head, I grabbed a stick I¡¯d been whittling earlier and began shaving down the sides. It wasn¡¯t much, but it worked as a makeshift toothbrush. Caveman life didn¡¯t come with a dental plan, after all.

    As I chewed on the stick, I glanced at Leon, who was now sitting in the crib, completely absorbed in trying to pull off one of his socks. Life in the cave was rough, sure, but moments like this reminded me why I kept going.

    After finishing with the stick, I scooped Leon up from the crib. His little giggle filled the cave as I lifted him into the air and swung him around. ¡°Who¡¯s the strongest of them all? You!¡± I grinned, bouncing him up again.

    ¡°Baba~! Ba!¡± he babbled, his laughter echoing through the cave.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, who¡¯s the most handsome of them all? That¡¯s right, you are!¡± I said, ruffling the small strands of black hair growing on his head.

    He had my hair¡ªthick and dark¡ªbut those bright blue eyes? Those were all his mom. He was going to be a heartbreaker someday.

    I sighed, setting him down on the floor and watching as he immediately scampered off to inspect a pile of sticks I¡¯d gathered earlier. ¡°Just don¡¯t set anything on fire, alright?¡± I muttered under my breath.

    Because with Leon, you could never be too sure.

    The sun was dipping lower, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. Shadows stretched long and thin across the forest floor, and the temperature started to drop. It was a reminder that nighttime wasn¡¯t far off¡ªa time when the forest¡¯s quiet felt heavier, almost oppressive.

    And right on cue, Leon¡¯s mood began to shift.

    At first, it was a low whimper, the kind that said, Hey, something¡¯s wrong, but I¡¯m not ready to scream about it yet. Then, as if a switch flipped, the whimper turned into full-blown fussing. He wriggled in my arms, his little hands flailing like he was trying to swat away the problem himself.

    ¡°Alright, alright¡­¡± I sighed, adjusting him against my shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s the deal this time, huh?¡±

    Experience told me it could only be one of two things: a dirty diaper or hunger. And given our track record, it was probably both.

    I checked his diaper first, bracing myself for the worst. A quick peek revealed that, by some miracle, it was clean. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a win,¡± I muttered, relieved to dodge the bullet this time.

    That left hunger.

    Setting Leon down in the crib for a moment¡ªwhere he immediately began protesting with more squirming¡ªI got to work on the milk routine. It was second nature by now, almost like muscle memory.

    I grabbed the pot and filled it with water from the bamboo system I¡¯d rigged. The fire was already going, so it didn¡¯t take long to get the water boiling. I poured it into a bottle, added the formula, and gave it a good shake. Then came the part I hated the most: waiting for it to cool down to a safe temperature.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Leon wasn¡¯t exactly known for his patience, and tonight was no exception. His fussing grew louder, his little fists waving in frustration.

    ¡°Hold your horses, kiddo,¡± I muttered, testing the bottle against my wrist. Still too warm.

    Eventually, it was just right. I scooped him up again and offered the bottle. Like magic, the moment he latched on, his tantrum stopped. He sucked greedily, his earlier frustration already forgotten.

    ¡°There we go,¡± I said softly, brushing a stray strand of his hair out of his face. ¡°Crisis averted. For now.¡±

    He drank in silence, his blue eyes wide and unblinking as they stared up at me. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me¡ªsome kind of hero? A protector? Or just a guy trying not to screw everything up?

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, kiddo,¡± I murmured, more to myself than to him. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    The truth was, I wasn¡¯t so sure. Every day felt like walking a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster. But as long as Leon was fed, warm, and safe, I told myself that I was doing enough.

    As he finished the bottle, his eyes grew heavy, and he started to drift off in my arms. I held him for a while longer, just watching him sleep.

    The forest outside grew darker, the sounds of nocturnal life beginning to stir. Another day survived. Another night ahead.

    ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s another day,¡± I whispered softly. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    After a long day of wrangling Leon, I finally managed to get him to sleep. His little chest rose and fell in rhythm, and for once, the cave felt quiet. Carefully, I laid him down in the makeshift crib, adjusting the blanket around him.

    ¡°Sweet dreams, kiddo,¡± I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

    With Leon settled, I grabbed a small package wrapped in foil from a hidden nook in the cave and slipped outside. The cool night air greeted me, a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire inside. Stars blanketed the sky, and the forest hummed with nocturnal life.

    I made my way to my usual spot: a sturdy old tree with a thick branch perfect for sitting. Climbing up, I reached the spot where the signal was just strong enough to connect.

    Perching on the branch, I unwrapped the foil package. Inside were three smartphones¡ªcheap, untraceable, and absolutely vital. One by one, I powered them up, waiting for the weak signal to stabilize.

    It was a good thing I¡¯d invested in fresh SIM cards during my last supply run. Burners were a necessity in my new line of work, and I wasn¡¯t about to leave a digital trail that could lead anyone back to me or Leon.

    Once everything was booted up, I connected through proxies and started sifting through the digital ether. My first stop? Emails. Most were mundane, coded exchanges with clients or automated updates. A few caught my eye, and I made mental notes to respond later.

    Next, I delved into the real reason I risked climbing a tree in the middle of the night: intel on the hunter world.

    The Hunter¡¯s Net was an underground hub, a shadowy digital marketplace where hunters conducted business, traded information, and boasted about their exploits. It was the kind of place you¡¯d never stumble upon unless you knew exactly where to look¡ªand I did.

    Navigating the forums was second nature now. I¡¯d spent the past two years quietly carving out a niche for myself as an information broker. Using what I knew about this world from the novel I¡¯d written back in my old life, I offered insights no one else could.

    The payments? Favors or information. No cash. I couldn¡¯t risk leaving a financial trail, and I wasn¡¯t exactly keen on dealing with the kinds of people who traded in hard currency on the Hunter¡¯s Net.

    Scrolling through the latest threads, I found the usual mix of bravado and desperation. A hunter bragging about a rare kill. Another lamenting the loss of a partner. Deals for exotic weapons and relics were posted alongside pleas for help with dangerous jobs.

    I focused on the intel requests, skimming for anything that aligned with what I could offer. One post caught my attention¡ªa hunter looking for information on a rogue group operating in the area. I filed it away, already formulating a response that would keep my anonymity intact while providing just enough value to maintain my reputation.

    For two years, this had been my lifeline. The knowledge I had from the novel¡ªthe lore, the world-building, the intricacies of hunter society¡ªwas my greatest weapon. I¡¯d leveraged it to stay one step ahead, to barter for the things Leon and I needed to survive.

    The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me. Back in my old life, I¡¯d written this world for fun. Now, it was my reality, and the stakes were higher than I¡¯d ever imagined.

    After an hour of sifting through posts and tweaking my proxies, I powered down the phones and slipped them back into the foil package. The forest was darker now, quieter, the faint sounds of nocturnal creatures echoing through the trees.

    I climbed down from the tree, careful not to make a sound. Back in the cave, Leon was still fast asleep, his tiny form bundled under the blanket.

    Sitting by the fire, I stared at the flickering flames, my mind racing with everything I¡¯d read. The hunter world was a dangerous place, and I¡¯d spent two years dancing on its edges, careful not to fall in.

    But I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that our time on the sidelines was running out.

    With Leon finally asleep and the cave quiet, I pulled out one of my small notebooks, the worn cover reflecting the firelight. Flipping through the pages, I found an empty spot and clicked my pen.

    The familiar scratch of pen on paper was oddly soothing. I started drafting storylines¡ªideas for three webnovels I¡¯d left on hiatus ever since life threw me into survival mode.

    Writing had always been my escape, even back in my old life. Ten years ago, when I first landed in this world, I was just another homeless teenager with no credentials, no connections, and no clue what to do next.

    Getting a proper job had been out of the question. Employers wanted IDs, resumes, and experience¡ªthings I didn¡¯t have. So, I scraped by on odd jobs and, when things got desperate, a bit of racketeering.

    Eventually, I saved up enough to buy my first laptop. It wasn¡¯t much¡ªan old, secondhand machine that overheated if I pushed it too hard¡ªbut it was mine. That laptop became my lifeline.

    I taught myself how to write better, fueled by a mix of desperation and a love for storytelling I¡¯d carried over from my past life. Webnovels became my ticket to survival. I churned out chapters like my life depended on it¡ªbecause it did.

    It was funny in a way. The very thing that had started as a means to survive ended up changing my life in ways I never expected.

    I met my wife because of those stories.

    The memory brought a faint smile to my lips as I paused my scribbling. She¡¯d been one of my most loyal readers, someone who left thoughtful comments on every chapter. At first, I didn¡¯t think much of it¡ªjust another fan among many.

    But then she reached out, sending me a private message about a plot inconsistency. It wasn¡¯t the usual nitpicking; she¡¯d clearly put thought into it, and her insights were sharp. Intrigued, I replied, and one message turned into a hundred.

    We bonded over late-night chats, discussing everything from character arcs to world-building. Somewhere along the way, the conversations became less about the stories and more about us.

    I didn¡¯t even realize I was falling for her until it was too late.

    A pang of guilt tugged at my chest as I stared at the half-finished outline in my notebook. I hadn¡¯t seen her in two years. Didn¡¯t know if she was safe, if she was still out there, if she even thought about me anymore.

    Shaking off the thought, I focused back on the notebook. The stories were simpler times¡ªworlds where I had control, where I could shape outcomes. Unlike the chaos of my current reality.

    The fire crackled softly as I worked, the cave feeling almost cozy in the stillness. For a moment, it was just me, my pen, and the world I was creating on the page.

    Even if it was fleeting, it felt like a piece of normalcy in a life that had become anything but.

    ~002

 003 The Authorâ€™s Gambit

    III

    It had been another week since I last time checked the Hunter Net¡­

    Over the past two years, I¡¯d carved out a name for myself in the shadows of the hunter world. My codename, The Author, might¡¯ve been a bit over the top, but in this business, theatrics were everything. A dramatic alias carried weight, and it helped me stand out among the crowd of faceless brokers.

    That reputation finally paid off when I landed a big client.

    Diamond_Black: Do you have information on how to hunt Devils?

    I paused, staring at the screen. Diamond Black. The name alone sent a shiver of recognition down my spine. He was one of the key characters from my novel¡ªa relentless occult hunter obsessed with the supernatural, especially Devils.

    In the story, I¡¯d written him as a morally gray antagonist. Not quite a villain, but not a hero either. In a world like this, the lines between good and evil blurred easily.

    Still, the fact that he was reaching out to me was... interesting.

    Author_Thirteen: Who recommended you?

    I signed the message with my current alias, Thirteen. It was my thirteenth account, and in this line of work, you learned to keep things fluid. Burn an identity, create a new one. Always stay one step ahead.

    I had rules for clients. If they didn¡¯t come through a trusted recommendation, they¡¯d have to pay double. Not in cash, of course¡ªI didn¡¯t leave a paper trail. My currency was favors and information. Desperation made people agree to all kinds of terms, even ones that didn¡¯t favor them.

    Diamond_Black: No one recommended me.

    Red flag.

    I frowned, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Still, I wasn¡¯t about to turn away a big client just because they came in cold. If he could pay, I¡¯d deal.

    Author_Thirteen: We¡¯ll talk if you agree to pay twice the amount. Just so you know, I only deal in information and favors. You cannot buy from me with money.

    I sent the message and leaned back, waiting. The seconds dragged on before his reply came through.

    Diamond_Black: I am willing to pay back in favors. However, I would renege on that deal if I find your information lackluster.

    Typical. Everyone thought they could outsmart me. But I had my ways of ensuring payment. The trick was never giving clients the full picture upfront. Feed them just enough to keep them hooked, desperate for the rest.

    Author_Thirteen: This is what¡¯s going to happen. I¡¯ll give you half of the information now. Once you succeed and complete your part of the favor, I¡¯ll give you the other half. Do you understand?

    I sent the message and stretched, feeling the rough bark of the tree against my back. Every deal carried risks, but that was the nature of the game. If anyone tried to double-cross me, well, I had contingencies.

    Diamond_Black: Deal. What¡¯s the favor?

    I cracked my knuckles, already planning my next move. This was my chance to reconnect with Leora, even if it was indirect.

    Author_Thirteen: With the kind of information you want, the price will be three favors.

    Diamond_Black: Fine.

    I almost laughed at how begrudging his response sounded.

    Author_Thirteen: Leora the Bright. Courier duty. Send her my contact number. Tell her it¡¯s from her favorite author. Then, tell her: ¡°I¡¯m the most handsome guy in the world, and that¡¯s why you can¡¯t resist me. Banana.¡± She¡¯ll get it. If she chooses to keep you around, you¡¯ll proceed with my second favor¡ªbodyguard duty for whatever she needs, for the next month.

    I waited, imagining Leora¡¯s reaction to the message. She¡¯d recognize the line immediately¡ªit was an old inside joke from simpler times.

    Diamond_Black: Deal. Now, what¡¯s the first half of the information?

    Hook, line, and sinker.

    Author_Thirteen: To make a Devil¡¯s Trap, you¡¯ll need the Lesser Key of Solomon. It¡¯s a grimoire¡ªancient and powerful. And don¡¯t believe whatever the internet or hunter communities say about it. Most of the information out there is either lost, fabricated, or distorted. You¡¯ll need to track down the original. Without it, you¡¯re as good as dead if you try to trap a Devil.

    That should be enough to get him started. The bait was set, just enough to keep Diamond_Black interested and dependent on me. Now, all I had to do was wait for him to fulfill that first favor. The sooner I could get Leora back in my life, the better.

    I stared at the screen for a few more minutes, waiting for a reply. Nothing. Either he was already moving to fulfill the favor, or he¡¯d ghosted me. It was a coin toss at this point, and I wouldn¡¯t know until I heard back from Leora.

    The uncertainty gnawed at me, and my fingers started tapping rhythmically against the rough bark of the tree. I hated waiting¡ªit was like holding my breath underwater, unsure if I¡¯d make it to the surface in time.

    Then, my other phone buzzed.

    KZ_1_2: I found information on what you¡¯re looking for¡­ Quick methods to awaken aura. It¡¯s rather brutal, but you asked for it.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    My breath hitched as I read the message. Aura.

    I¡¯d written about it in my novel, painting it as the pinnacle of power¡ªan energy field that could turn the mundane into extraordinary. Seeing it in action over the first time had been both awe-inspiring and terrifying. It wasn¡¯t just a concept here; it was real, raw, and utterly out of my reach.

    Until now.

    My pulse quickened as I skimmed through the message. There were no fancy diagrams, no mystical incantations¡ªjust steps. Cold, detailed steps on how to forcefully awaken aura within a person.

    The methods were brutal. Pain, trauma, and near-death experiences were the core ingredients. My stomach churned as I read through the instructions, each line more daunting than the last. This wasn¡¯t just a matter of willpower; it was a trial by fire, a gauntlet of suffering with no guarantees.

    I leaned back against the tree, staring at the fading sunlight filtering through the branches. Could I do it? Could I put myself through hell just for a shot at becoming something more than a helpless bystander in this predator¡¯s world?

    ¡°Well,¡± I muttered to myself, ¡°it¡¯s either that or wait to get killed when the favors run out.¡±

    My gaze dropped back to the message. KZ_1_2. The naming system was all too familiar¡ªguild-issued, most likely. The "1_2" suffix marked this guy as a low-level grunt in some organization. Just another cog in the machine, probably trying to make a quick deal.

    That didn¡¯t mean I could afford to dismiss him. If this information was even half-baked, it could cost me my life. But if it was accurate...

    I clenched my fists, the bark digging into my palms. The truth was, I didn¡¯t have a choice. In a world where hunters and monsters walked side by side, survival demanded sacrifice.

    The thought of putting myself through this trial was terrifying, but the alternative was worse¡ªremaining weak, powerless, and at the mercy of a world that didn¡¯t care whether I lived or died.

    I typed back a quick reply:

    Author_Five: How can I verify this method works?

    The seconds stretched into eternity as I waited for a response.

    KZ_1_2: It worked for my boss. He started as mundane. Now he¡¯s top-tier.

    The words sent a chill down my spine. If that was true, then it was possible.

    I quickly typed a response, my fingers flying across the screen.

    Author_Five: I¡¯ve received your intel. On the basis that your information proves false, an assassin will then be sent your way.

    It was a bluff, of course. I didn¡¯t have assassins on speed dial or anything remotely close to that. But in this world, perception was everything. Fear had a way of loosening tongues and making people more truthful than they intended to be. If KZ_1_2 had any sense, he¡¯d make sure his intel was rock-solid.

    I waited for a response, but none came. Hopefully, that meant the message had the intended effect.

    Now came the hard part¡ªdeciding what to do with the information. The steps to awakening aura weren¡¯t just extreme; they were downright suicidal. Brutal methods, trauma, near-death experiences... It felt like volunteering for a death sentence. But if I wanted to protect myself and Leon, I needed every advantage I could get.

    I glanced at the message again, my stomach twisting into knots. This was it. Do or die.

    I sighed and pocketed the phone. ¡°Well, I asked for it.¡±

    Just as I was about to climb down from my perch, a sudden ping from the phone made me pause.

    I retrieved it, unlocking the screen to find another message from KZ_1_2.

    Attached to the email were corresponding testimonials about the aura awakening process, specifically using the shortcut method he¡¯d outlined.

    The more I read, the more uneasy I felt. The organization KZ_1_2 belonged to used a nightmare-inducing aura ability as a key part of the process.

    It was a familiar name¡ªone of the underground groups I¡¯d written about, infamous for their psychological warfare and mental manipulation.

    The method relied on pushing a person to their absolute limits, mentally and emotionally, until their aura activated as a desperate survival mechanism. The testimonials confirmed its effectiveness, but the cost was high. The mental strain alone was enough to leave some participants broken, and a few had even died during the process.

    I leaned back against the tree, letting the phone rest in my lap. The steps seemed legitimate, but they presented a new problem.

    I had no access to someone with that kind of nightmare-inducing ability. And even if I did, trusting anyone enough to put me through something so dangerous was a leap of faith I wasn¡¯t willing to take.

    Then there was Leon. I couldn¡¯t afford to lose my grip on reality while he depended on me. The last thing I needed was to botch the process, go insane, and accidentally leave my son to fend for himself¡ªor worse, watch him set the cave on fire in the chaos.

    I closed my eyes, exhaling deeply. This was the risk I¡¯d asked for, but the reality of it was sinking in hard. Awakening aura might be my only chance to stand a fighting chance in this world, but the road to get there was nothing short of a nightmare¡ªliterally.

    I opened my eyes, staring out at the forest. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to figure out another way,¡± I muttered.

    The aura awakening shortcut wasn¡¯t off the table yet, but I needed time to plan, to prepare for the fallout if things went wrong. Until then, Leon came first.

    KZ_1_2: I hope we are quits, man¡­ No need to send assassins on me¡­

    I couldn¡¯t help but grin. The guy was sweating bullets. My bluff had worked like a charm.

    Author_Five: I will inform you after we¡¯ve determined the accuracy of the information you¡¯ve provided.

    Using ¡°we¡± was all part of the act. I had no organization, no team, and definitely no assassins on standby. But letting people believe I did? That was part of the mystique I cultivated. The less they knew about me, the more powerful they assumed I was. It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d pulled this stunt, and every time it worked, it reminded me how much people feared the unknown.

    Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. Now came the hard part¡ªfiguring out my next move.

    What were my options? Wait for someone to magically hand me a nightmare-inducing ability on a silver platter? Not likely. Or, I could risk it and try something more¡­ primitive. Both choices carried their own set of risks, and neither was particularly appealing.

    To distract myself, I opened up the Hunter Net again.

    The usual stream of posts and gossip flooded the screen, and I skimmed through it, filing the interesting bits in the back of my mind. Staying updated on the latest happenings in the hunter world was part of the job, and every scrap of information had the potential to become leverage later.

    After I¡¯d gathered enough intel to satisfy my curiosity, I switched gears. It was time to do some marketing.

    I opened my draft folder and pulled up the next chapter in a web novel series I¡¯d been writing under the pseudonym Hunterworks. The series was a collection of one-shots featuring ambiguous characters¡ªones that might or might not be allegories for real-life hunters. The stories were vague, dripping with mystery, and designed to pique curiosity without giving too much away.

    It was my way of showing off my ¡°goods¡± to potential clients. The hunters who frequented the forums loved a good riddle, and these stories gave them just enough to keep them hooked. I never confirmed whether the tales were real or fictional, and that ambiguity was what kept them coming back for more.

    I chuckled to myself as I typed up the title of the new chapter. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me. Years ago, when I was just a struggling writer trying to make ends meet, I¡¯d written a web novel called Hunterworks. Back then, it was nothing more than a passion project, a fictional world where hunters and supernatural forces clashed in epic battles.

    Now, here I was, living in a world eerily similar to the one I¡¯d created. The name Hunterworks had come full circle, and I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the poetic symmetry of it all.

    With the new chapter uploaded, I leaned back again, satisfied. The hunters on the forums would devour it, dissecting every word and debating whether it was based on real events. And maybe, just maybe, one of them would reach out, looking to hire The Author.

    For now, all I could do was wait and see who took the bait.

    ¡°Aura¡­ Is there a way for me to awaken aura safely?¡±

    ~003

 004 Leap of Fate

    IV

    Leon¡¯s cries pierced through the stillness of the cave, pulling me out of a dreamless sleep. Groggy, I turned to check the clock. 3 a.m. Fantastic. The dead of night. I groaned, dragging myself up and stumbling toward his makeshift crib.

    ¡°Alright, alright, calm down, buddy,¡± I mumbled as I scooped him up. His little fists flailed for a moment before he settled against me, his cries softening into tired whimpers. I rocked him gently, humming a tune that was more noise than melody until his breathing evened out and he drifted back to sleep.

    Once he was tucked back in, I stretched, my muscles protesting with every movement. The exhaustion weighed heavy, but I wasn¡¯t about to let it win. If I was up anyway, I might as well make use of the time.

    I started with a few warm-up exercises, trying to shake off the grogginess and keep my body from going soft. Living out here wasn¡¯t just about surviving¡ªit was about staying ready for whatever might come. Afterward, I headed to the water system I¡¯d rigged up, filling a barrel with drinkable water. It was tedious work, but essential. I wasn¡¯t about to haul buckets every day.

    Next, I prepped a bottle of warm milk for Leon, knowing he¡¯d be hungry when he woke up again. The routine had become second nature by now¡ªchores, survival, repeat. By the time I finished, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. I barely made it back to my bed before collapsing. Sleep came fast, dragging me under before I could even think about the next day.

    I sat down on the cold, uneven boulder that served as my bed, letting out a long, measured breath. Hiding in the mountains was only a temporary solution. Sooner or later, the world¡ªor someone worse¡ªwould find us. I needed power, but I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready to pay the price.

    Still, hesitation wasn¡¯t a luxury I could afford.

    I glanced at Leon, peacefully sprawled out beside the smoldering remains of last night¡¯s fire. His tiny chest rose and fell with each soft breath, completely oblivious to the danger that loomed over us like a shadow. For his sake, I couldn¡¯t afford to fail.

    The thought kept me restless, even as exhaustion weighed on my body. I tried to close my eyes, but the chill of the cave cut through my cloak, and the hardness of the boulder beneath me only made it worse. Sleep refused to come, no matter how much I needed it.

    Frustrated, I gave up. Standing, I stretched and rubbed the stiffness from my neck. The cave was bathed in the faint, deep purple hue of pre-dawn, the sky caught in that fleeting moment between night and morning. I glanced at Leon again, his tiny face slack with sleep.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t burn the cave down while I¡¯m gone,¡± I muttered under my breath. It wasn¡¯t like he could hear me, but saying it made me feel a little better.

    I grabbed my bag and headed out, descending the mountain with care. Loose rocks shifted beneath my boots, and overgrown shrubs snagged at my cloak. The descent was always tricky, especially in the dim light, but I¡¯d done it enough times to avoid any serious missteps.

    At the foot of the mountain, Aunt Marie was waiting, just as she always did. Her arms were crossed, her weathered face looking even more tired than usual. She didn¡¯t greet me with a smile¡ªshe never did. Our arrangement wasn¡¯t built on pleasantries. It was strictly business: she got me supplies, and I paid her. That was it.

    ¡°Morning,¡± I said as I approached, keeping my tone neutral.

    Marie handed me a plastic bag, her sharp eyes scanning me before narrowing at the contents inside. ¡°I¡¯ve always taken it upon myself not to ask about your past or your¡­ peculiar habits,¡± she began, her voice low and edged with curiosity. ¡°But this? This is a bit much.¡±

    I knew what she was referring to without looking. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, ash dirt, dung beetles, a mortar and pestle, and even a Bunsen burner¡ªyeah, I¡¯d really gone all in this time.

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You making soup, or did you suddenly decide to become a witch?¡±

    I scratched the back of my neck, sheepish. ¡°It¡¯s, uh¡­ for something specific.¡±

    Marie wasn¡¯t amused. ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡±

    Without another word, I handed her a plastic bag stuffed with cash. It was enough to cover the supplies and leave her with a little extra for her trouble. She stared at the money for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. I could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted to ask more, to understand what a man like me was doing in the mountains with a kid and a shopping list fit for an alchemist.

    But she didn¡¯t ask.

    Instead, she tucked the cash away and handed over the supplies. ¡°Be careful,¡± she said, her tone softer now. ¡°This world¡¯s not what it used to be.¡±

    I nodded, avoiding her gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡±

    Marie hesitated, then glanced up toward the mountain. ¡°And the boy?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s tougher than he looks,¡± I said, my voice steady this time. Leon had his quirks¡ªsome more dangerous than others¡ªbut he was resilient. He had to be.

    Marie didn¡¯t push further, and I appreciated that. We exchanged a quick goodbye, and I began the climb back up the mountain. The bag of oddities rustled with each step, a stark reminder of the gamble I was about to take.

    By the time I reached the cave, the sky had brightened, but Leon was still fast asleep. No fires, no chaos¡ªjust peace, for now. I set the bag down and unpacked the items, laying them out on the ground.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, ash dirt, dung beetles. The ingredients looked absurd, like props for some amateur magician¡¯s trick. But I wasn¡¯t playing games. Each item had a purpose and a role in the risky process I was preparing for.

    This was my shot¡ªmy chance to awaken aura, to protect Leon, to survive. If it worked, everything would change.

    If it didn¡¯t¡­ well, failure wasn¡¯t an option.

    I laid out the ingredients on the flat rock I¡¯d repurposed as my worktable. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, dung beetles¡ªeach item looked as absurd as it sounded. But this wasn¡¯t a joke. I knew this concoction had worked in the novel. The antagonist had used it to fake his death so convincingly that even the most skilled hunters were fooled. If it worked for him, it could work for me.

    Still, I muttered under my breath, ¡°It isn¡¯t a surefire method to awaken aura, though¡­¡±

    The process was intricate, and I wasn¡¯t an alchemist or herbalist. But I¡¯d studied enough from the novel to piece together how it should go. The concept was simple in theory: slow my body¡¯s vital signs to the point where I¡¯d appear dead, even to someone capable of sensing aura. The execution, however, was anything but simple. One misstep and I¡¯d actually be dead.

    I glanced over at Leon, still sleeping peacefully in his crib. His small form rose and fell with each breath, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. My chest tightened with a mix of anxiety and determination. I had to make this work. If I could pull it off, I¡¯d have a way to hide from the hunter world long enough to figure out a real plan¡ªor at least buy enough time for Leon to grow stronger.

    I grabbed the mortar and pestle, grinding the ginseng roots and beetles into a fine paste. The smell hit me immediately, a bitter, earthy scent that turned my stomach. I clenched my jaw and kept going, knowing every step had to be precise. Too much of one ingredient, and I¡¯d cross the line from ¡°faking death¡± to ¡°actual death.¡± Too little, and the potion wouldn¡¯t be convincing enough to fool anyone.

    As I worked, I couldn¡¯t help but feel the absurdity of it all. Here I was, a guy who once had a normal life, crouched in a cold cave, grinding beetles and herbs to brew a fake-death potion. If I didn¡¯t have a child to protect, I might¡¯ve laughed at how surreal it all was.

    Once the ingredients were reduced to a paste, I carefully added the mushrooms and ash dirt. The mixture thickened, its texture becoming almost clay-like. I set it aside and pulled out the Bunsen burner Marie had gotten for me. The setup was crude¡ªjust a burner perched on a flat rock¡ªbut it would do.

    I transferred the paste into a small pot and began heating it, stirring slowly and evenly. The mixture darkened as it cooked, bubbling faintly, the bitter smell growing stronger. My heart raced with every passing second. This was it¡ªthe moment of truth.

    As the potion cooled, I leaned back against the wall of the cave, staring at the dark liquid. A knot formed in my stomach. Was this really going to work? I¡¯d followed every step as closely as I could, but there was no room for error. If I got this wrong, I wouldn¡¯t just be risking my life¡ªI¡¯d be leaving Leon alone in a world that wouldn¡¯t hesitate to crush him.

    I glanced at him again, his small form still undisturbed by the chaos surrounding us. My resolve hardened. No turning back now.

    The potion had cooled enough. I poured the dark, viscous liquid into a small vial and held it up to the dim light filtering into the cave. It shimmered ominously, an almost hypnotic swirl of colors I couldn¡¯t quite name. It looked as dangerous as it felt.

    I took a deep breath, the weight of what I was about to do pressing against my chest. I wasn¡¯t sure how long the effects would last or how convincing they¡¯d be, but this wasn¡¯t just about appearances. It was about survival¡ªfor Leon¡¯s sake, for mine. This was my best shot.

    The first sip was bitter, burning its way down my throat like liquid fire. I grimaced, setting the vial down as my stomach churned. The taste lingered, metallic and earthy, a reminder of what I¡¯d just committed to.

    Now, all I could do was wait.

    The dizziness hit me first, a slow, creeping disorientation that made the cave walls tilt and sway. I steadied myself against the rough stone, my breath shallow and uneven. My vision blurred, the edges of the world softening into an indistinct haze.

    I stumbled outside, the cool mountain air slapping against my face like a wake-up call. The cliff¡¯s edge loomed ahead, the rocky drop beneath casting long, jagged shadows over my thoughts. My heart raced, doubt clawing at the edges of my mind.

    It won¡¯t work, I told myself, this is insane. The concoction was designed to mimic death, not reenact it. There was no real danger¡ªat least, that¡¯s what I kept reminding myself.

    But the testimonials I¡¯d read told a different story. Every account mentioned something visceral, something real about the experience. No one was told what to expect, yet they all came back changed, awakened in some way.

    One conclusion was undeniable: danger was a crucial ingredient for unlocking aura.

    I took another unsteady breath, fighting the dizziness as I climbed higher. The cliff stretched upward, jagged and unyielding, its peak shrouded in mist. My contingencies were in place. I¡¯d written letters, set instructions for Leon¡¯s care, and even left messages for Leora, just in case. I¡¯d covered every angle, and because of that, I could afford to be reckless.

    Or so I told myself.

    The thought of leaping to what might be my death made my limbs feel heavier than the rocks beneath my feet. Would the concoction really work the way it was supposed to? The hidden healing factor would only activate if my heart stopped beating.

    That was the risk¡ªif it stopped.

    I stared out at the horizon, the rising sun painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple. The view was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that made you question your place in the world.

    Everyone is afraid of death, I thought, my hands trembling. Why wouldn¡¯t I be?

    But fear was exactly what I needed now. Fear would push me over the edge¡ªliterally and figuratively. If I was right, if the testimonials weren¡¯t exaggerated, there was no way I wouldn¡¯t awaken my aura after this.

    I took one last deep breath, steadying my nerves. The doubts were still there, lurking at the back of my mind like dark shadows, but I couldn¡¯t let them win. Not now.

    I stepped to the edge. And I jumped.

    The wind roared around me, cold and biting, tugging at my clothes and whipping my hair into my face. My breath caught in my throat as the ground rushed up to meet me. For a split second, I felt weightless, suspended in midair.

    Then the ground came rushing closer, faster than I expected, and that split second stretched into an eternity.

    The impact was like a thunderclap, the force ripping through my body as everything went dark.

    Silence.

    I floated in an abyss, weightless and untethered, my senses dulled to nothingness. For a moment, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was alive or dead. The potion was supposed to work by shutting down my body¡¯s vital functions, but this¡­ this felt like something else entirely.

    Then came the pain. A sharp, searing heat radiated from my chest, spreading outward like wildfire. My limbs twitched involuntarily, and a faint hum filled my ears, growing louder with each passing second.

    And then, I felt it.

    A spark.

    It started small, a flicker of energy deep within me, but it grew quickly, roaring to life like a firestorm. My body trembled as the aura surged, flooding my veins with raw power. It was overwhelming, like trying to contain a hurricane in a bottle.

    My eyes snapped open, and I gasped, air flooding my lungs as if I¡¯d been drowning. The world came rushing back in a blur of light and sound, and I found myself lying at the base of the cliff, the jagged rocks digging into my back.

    I was alive.

    And I wasn¡¯t the same.

    ~004

 005 The Spark

    V

    I groaned as I pulled myself into a sitting position. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck¡ªheavy, sore, and sluggish¡ªbut strangely, I was fine. No broken bones, no gashes or bruises. Just pain. A lot of pain.

    The fall was a blur. I tried to recall the impact, but my memory cut off the moment I hit the ground. Maybe that was a good thing. If I had really died, I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here now, right?

    I glanced down at my hands, flexing my fingers experimentally. I searched for some kind of sign that my aura had awakened. A glow, a surge of power, something. But there was nothing. No changes, no immediate proof that I was any different than before.

    ¡°Come on¡­¡± I muttered under my breath as I pushed myself to my feet. My head throbbed, the dizziness from earlier replaced by a dull ache. My body protested every movement, but I was alive, and that was the important part.

    I checked my watch. Five minutes. That¡¯s how long it had taken from the moment I jumped to the moment I regained consciousness. Either the concoction had worked, or I¡¯d somehow survived a fall that should¡¯ve killed me through sheer dumb luck.

    I staggered toward the edge of the cliff, my legs unsteady beneath me. Peering down at the jagged rocks below, I tried to make sense of what had just happened. The drop was brutal¡ªno way anyone could survive that unscathed. Yet here I was.

    ¡°Okay¡­ so now what?¡±

    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center myself. The testimonials had all said the same thing: awakening aura wasn¡¯t just a physical transformation. It was deeper, more intrinsic. I focused inward, searching for anything that felt different.

    At first, there was nothing. Just the steady thrum of my pulse and the lingering adrenaline coursing through my veins. I almost gave up, but then I felt it¡ªa flicker, faint and fleeting, deep in my chest.

    It was like a match being struck in the dark.

    I concentrated on the sensation, focusing all my attention on that tiny spark. Slowly, it grew. The flicker became a flame, spreading warmth through my chest and down into my limbs. The aches and pains that had wracked my body began to fade, replaced by a strange lightness, as if I was no longer weighed down by the same physical limits.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± I whispered.

    This was it. The awakening. My aura.

    But the elation was short-lived. As the warmth spread, I realized this wasn¡¯t just any aura. This was something¡­ different. Something more volatile. The energy surged through me, wild and erratic, pulsing like a live wire sparking dangerously inside my chest.

    My heart raced as I struggled to keep it in check. The raw power felt untamed, unstable, like it could spiral out of control at any moment. I stumbled backward, gasping for breath, my hands clutching at my chest.

    ¡°Okay¡­ calm down, Reynard. You¡¯ve got this,¡± I muttered, more to convince myself than anything else.

    I took a deep breath, trying to steady the erratic energy coursing through me. The heat simmered beneath my skin, not painful but definitely uncomfortable, like a furnace threatening to ignite.

    Running a hand over my sternum, I half-expected to feel something physically different¡ªa glow, a pulse, anything¡ªbut everything seemed normal on the surface.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°This must be a side effect of awakening aura too quickly.¡±

    The concoction had worked, but maybe too well. The energy inside me felt raw and untamed, a double-edged sword that could just as easily destroy me as save me.

    I needed to figure out how to control it. Otherwise, I wasn¡¯t just a man with awakened aura¡ªI was a walking time bomb.

    Without a proper guide or a controlled awakening, the results were bound to be unpredictable. I¡¯d known that going in, though, and I was fine with it. What mattered now was figuring out my affinity¡ªwhat type of aura I felt most comfortable with.

    Like how matter had three states, Aura had Seven States.

    Aura wasn¡¯t just some generic force; it had seven distinct ¡°states¡± or methods of use. Fighter, Seeker, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader. Each state represented a different way to interact with the world and brought unique abilities. Fighters enhanced physical power and durability, while Casters manipulated energy for ranged attacks. Makers could craft objects imbued with aura, and Readers used it to sense emotions or intentions. The rest were just as specialized, each tailored to a specific style of combat or survival.

    The trick was figuring out which state I¡¯d fallen into.

    ¡°I feel healthier already¡­¡± I muttered, rolling my shoulders to shake off the lingering discomfort. ¡°Still hot in the chest, though.¡±

    As I stretched, I noticed something odd¡ªmy body moved with a strange ease. My muscles felt looser, more responsive, like the usual resistance I faced with every movement had been turned down.

    Interesting.

    If I had to guess, I might¡¯ve awakened as a Fighter. Fighter auras typically enhanced physical strength and resilience, making their users walking tanks in combat. But that didn¡¯t explain the heat in my chest or the volatile energy surging through me. There was more to this than simple physical enhancements.

    I needed to test it.

    Turning toward a nearby boulder, I clenched my fist and focused on the flicker of energy deep in my chest. It was like a small flame, flickering and unsteady. I imagined pushing that flame downward, channeling it into my arm, letting it build like pressure in a valve.

    With a sharp exhale, I threw a punch.

    The boulder cracked.

    A spiderweb of fine lines spread from the point of impact, and I stumbled back, wide-eyed.

    ¡°Okay¡­ not bad,¡± I said, flexing my fingers. My knuckles stung slightly, but it was a good kind of pain¡ªa reminder that this wasn¡¯t a dream.

    Still, something felt off. The energy inside me wasn¡¯t stable. It pulsed erratically, like a live wire sparking at random intervals. Every time I tried to focus on it, it threatened to break loose, slipping through my control like water through a sieve.

    This wasn¡¯t just a Fighter¡¯s aura.

    I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate again, searching for more clues. That heat in my chest wasn¡¯t going away. It was tied to the energy somehow, but what did it mean? Fighters weren¡¯t supposed to feel this kind of volatility. Their aura was straightforward, solid. This felt raw, unrefined, and wild.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    I thought about the other states. Tricksters were known for their unpredictability, their ability to create illusions or manipulate perception. Could I have awakened as a Trickster? But no, this didn¡¯t feel like subtle manipulation. This was power¡ªraw and uncontained.

    Another possibility nagged at me: Caster. Casters wielded their aura as a ranged weapon, projecting energy outward in blasts or beams. That heat could be a sign of a buildup, but it didn¡¯t explain the physical enhancements.

    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± I muttered, running a hand through my hair. I was overthinking this. The truth was, I didn¡¯t know enough about aura awakening to make any definitive conclusions.

    For now, I had to focus on control. Whatever this was, it wasn¡¯t stable, and that made it dangerous¡ªnot just to me but to Leon as well. If I couldn¡¯t rein it in, I¡¯d be a liability instead of a protector.

    I clenched my fists, feeling the flicker of energy flare up again. It was like trying to tame a storm inside me, chaotic and unrelenting.

    ¡°Okay, Reynard,¡± I muttered. ¡°One step at a time. You¡¯ve got this.¡±

    I needed to figure out how to channel my aura properly. Without control, I was more hazard than hero.

    "Alright... what''s next?" I muttered to myself.

    Experimentation was the only way forward. I¡¯d have to test the Seven States one by one to figure out where my newfound power aligned. But before I could do that, I needed to cool down¡ªliterally. The heat in my chest was still building, and if I wasn¡¯t careful, it might burn me out before I even got the chance to learn anything.

    The river nearby offered the perfect reprieve. I waded into the cool stream, letting the water wash over me. The heat subsided slightly, though the faint thrum of energy in my chest remained, like embers waiting to reignite.

    As I sat on the smooth rocks by the riverbank, I mulled over what kind of ability I might¡¯ve awakened. Considering the fall I¡¯d survived without a scratch and the punch I¡¯d delivered earlier, it was clear something extraordinary had happened. But it didn¡¯t feel like a typical Fighter¡¯s aura. The power I¡¯d felt wasn¡¯t proportional¡ªit was too sharp, too volatile.

    "I don¡¯t know much about aura as it is," I said aloud, "but I¡¯ve got a feeling I¡¯m starting with a lot more than the average beginner."

    The thought was both thrilling and unsettling. If I had more aura than most starters, that could mean my awakening was something unique¡ªor dangerous. Either way, I needed to understand it before it consumed me.

    I reviewed my knowledge of the Seven States as the water cooled my chest.

    Fighter¡ªThe most straightforward state. Fighters used aura to enhance their physical capabilities: strength, speed, durability. Living battering rams, capable of shattering stone and taking hits that would kill ordinary people. The punch I¡¯d thrown earlier might suggest this, but something about it didn¡¯t fit. It was too precise, too focused to be raw brute strength.

    Seeker¡ªSeekers enhanced their senses, becoming hyper-aware of their surroundings. They could track enemies, detect aura, and even foresee danger. But I hadn¡¯t felt anything like heightened senses or clarity. No sudden awareness of the world around me. Just the heat.

    Dealer¡ªDealers were aura manipulators, capable of transferring or controlling aura in others. They worked well in groups, supporting allies or draining enemies. Their abilities often came with specific conditions for activation. But I hadn¡¯t felt any connection to the aura of others, no strange feedback. I was still a solo act, through and through.

    Trickster¡ªThe wildcard. Tricksters used aura for illusions, misdirection, and bending reality. Their abilities were unpredictable, often manifesting in unconventional ways. I couldn¡¯t completely rule this one out. The raw power I felt might be masking something more subtle, but it didn¡¯t feel like the sneaky, deceptive energy Tricksters were known for.

    Caster¡ªThe mystical state. Casters wielded aura as elemental or magical power¡ªfire, ice, lightning. The heat in my chest could suggest something fire-related, simmering beneath the surface. I hadn¡¯t seen flames yet, but the idea wasn¡¯t far-fetched.

    Maker¡ªMakers crafted and enhanced objects using aura, turning ordinary tools into extraordinary ones. Some could even forge constructs of pure energy. The punch I¡¯d delivered to the boulder might¡¯ve been a form of aura shaping, though it felt too raw to be intentional. Still, it was worth considering.

    Reader¡ªThe rarest of the states. Readers delved into minds and emotions, using aura to uncover secrets and predict actions. But I hadn¡¯t felt any insight into the thoughts or feelings of others. No sudden connection to the essence of people. Definitely not me.

    The water flowed around me as I turned these possibilities over in my mind. None of them seemed to fit perfectly. Whatever I¡¯d awakened, it felt... different. The heat, the volatility¡ªit wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d read about in any of the books or testimonials.

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to figure it out the hard way,¡± I muttered, standing up and shaking the water from my hands.

    I leaned back against the rocks, letting the cool water flow over my skin, soothing the heat simmering in my chest. The river was a welcome reprieve, a momentary escape from the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, staring up at the canopy of trees above. ¡°So what am I?¡±

    The question lingered in the air, unanswered. I felt stronger, sure¡ªdifferent¡ªbut the heat in my chest was still a mystery. It was like carrying a live coal under my ribcage, a constant reminder that something had changed. But what exactly?

    The raw energy pulsing through me wasn¡¯t normal. It was too wild, too volatile. This wasn¡¯t the smooth awakening described in the books or testimonials I¡¯d read. It felt like I¡¯d tapped into something deeper, more primal. Something that wasn¡¯t entirely under my control.

    For now, though, I¡¯d have to take it one step at a time. Experimentation could wait. I needed to figure out what this power meant¡ªwhat I meant.

    I closed my eyes, letting my head rest against the rocks, the sound of the stream lulling me into a moment of calm. But as the water cooled my body, my mind drifted to a darker place.

    And then it hit me.

    The realization struck like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolt of tension through my body. My eyes snapped open as the full weight of what I¡¯d done settled over me.

    It was like a crack in my mind.

    ¡°I¡­ I just tried to kill myself,¡± I whispered, the words barely audible over the rushing water.

    The thought hung in the air, cold and unrelenting. My chest tightened, not from the heat of the aura, but from the crushing weight of realization. What if the concoction hadn¡¯t worked? What if I¡¯d failed?

    I¡¯d jumped off that cliff without a second thought, gambling everything on a half-baked plan. And for what? To awaken some power I didn¡¯t even understand? To prove to myself that I could survive?

    The tension clawed its way up my spine, gripping my chest like a vice. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I couldn¡¯t breathe.

    Deep breaths. Just breathe.

    I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to steady myself, but the panic wouldn¡¯t subside. Memories flooded back¡ªevery moment of desperation that had led me to this point. The loneliness. The isolation. The overwhelming sense of being trapped with no way out.

    Before I knew it, hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with the cool water from the river.

    ¡°I¡¯m so stupid¡­¡± I choked out, my voice cracking. ¡°What the hell have I been thinking?¡±

    The sobs came unbidden, wracking my body as I buried my face in my hands. I¡¯d been so focused on escaping my circumstances, on finding some kind of solution, that I hadn¡¯t stopped to think about what I was doing to myself.

    I missed civilization. I missed writing novels, losing myself in the worlds I used to create. I missed¡­ her. My wife. The ache in my chest deepened as I thought of her face, the way she used to smile, the sound of her laugh. How long had it been since I¡¯d seen her? Since I¡¯d felt any semblance of normalcy?

    I was cornered. Truly, utterly cornered.

    The weight of it all threatened to crush me, but after what felt like an eternity, the sobs began to subside. My breathing slowed, the tightness in my chest easing just enough for me to think clearly again.

    I wiped my face with trembling hands, the tears and river water blending into one.

    ¡°Get it together, Reynard,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°Crying isn¡¯t going to fix anything.¡±

    But even as I said it, I knew I couldn¡¯t keep pushing myself like this. Not today. Experimentation could wait. I needed to find some semblance of stability before I tore myself apart.

    With that resolve, I stood up and made my way back to the cave. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The sight was oddly comforting, a reminder that even the longest day had to end eventually.

    When I reached the cave, Leon was waiting for me, tail wagging as he trotted over to greet me. The sight of him brought a faint smile to my face, a small spark of warmth in the midst of the chaos.

    ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± I said, crouching down to scratch behind his ears. His fur was soft and warm, a welcome contrast to the chill of the river.

    For the rest of the evening, I let myself forget about aura, about experimentation, about the questions that had been gnawing at my mind. Instead, I focused on Leon, tossing a makeshift ball for him to chase and laughing as he barked excitedly.

    For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to just be. No plans. No pressure. Just the simple joy of being alive.

    ~005

 006 Bonding Through Flames

    VI

    The heat in my chest, which had been simmering for days, suddenly vanished without warning. It wasn¡¯t gradual¡ªone moment, it blazed like an open flame; the next, it was gone, leaving behind only a lingering coolness. Like embers after a fire, it felt quiet but unfamiliar. I frowned, confused. Something had changed, though I couldn¡¯t quite put my finger on it.

    If I were to use a metaphor, I felt like I disconnected from my power source.

    ¡°Strange doesn¡¯t even begin to describe it.¡±

    I had postponed this long enough. It had only been a couple of days since my breakdown¡ªa messy, teary realization of just how far I¡¯d fallen. But there was no more time for self-pity.

    Standing in the open area I¡¯d cleared earlier, I scanned my surroundings. The patch of dirt stretched out like a blank canvas, ready for experimentation. I¡¯d prepared it, anticipating the need for a training ground.

    Leon was close by, rolling around in the soft dirt without a care in the world. I sighed.

    I couldn¡¯t leave him unsupervised for long. Not after what happened with the bamboo shower. He¡¯d somehow managed to nearly blow it to bits, all while giggling like it was a game. Funny kid.

    A sudden flash caught my eye, and I turned just in time to see Leon shoot lasers from his eyes, disintegrating a snake that had lunged at him.

    ¡°That baby boy might just be the death of me,¡± I muttered, shaking my head.

    As I watched him, a memory surfaced¡ªa technique I¡¯d written into my novel but never thought I¡¯d try myself. It was a basic Seeker skill: channeling aura into the eyes to enhance perception. If nothing else, it might help me see what was happening inside me¡ªor with Leon.

    I closed my eyes and focused, imagining the flow of aura pooling behind them. Slowly, I opened them again, the world now bathed in faint streams of warm light. Leon, who was now snoozing peacefully in his crib, glowed with a soft but vibrant aura.

    But something odd caught my attention¡ªa faint stream of energy connecting the two of us. It flowed from me to him and back again, like a silent exchange.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ how do I classify this?¡± I murmured, narrowing my eyes.

    This wasn¡¯t a simple transfer. It felt... symbiotic, like our auras were interacting on a deeper level. Could it be a skill copier? Or maybe even a skill taker?

    Leon¡¯s aura was undoubtedly the key. His pure, untapped energy had likely saved me during the fall¡ªnot my own. I knelt beside him, examining the aura more closely with my enhanced vision.

    His energy was unrefined, raw, and still developing. Yet it had managed to shield me.

    That¡¯s when the pieces clicked together.

    ¡°My aura adapts to others¡­¡± I whispered, the revelation dawning on me. ¡°It¡¯s not Leon¡¯s ability¡ªit¡¯s mine.¡±

    As I spoke the words aloud, the implications sank in. I wasn¡¯t just a Dealer in the traditional sense. Dealers transferred their own aura or enhanced others¡¯, but mine worked in reverse. I wasn¡¯t giving; I was taking.

    ¡°The others support me instead,¡± I muttered. That explained the heat I¡¯d felt before¡ªit wasn¡¯t my aura burning in my chest. It had been Leon¡¯s, sustaining me.

    Standing up, I rubbed the back of my neck, my thoughts racing. This ability was both incredible and terrifying. On one hand, it meant I could draw on the strength of others. On the other, it made me dependent. Without someone nearby, I¡¯d be vulnerable.

    Testing this power would be difficult. I couldn¡¯t risk draining Leon too much¡ªnot when he was still so young. But this revelation was a game-changer. It meant I wasn¡¯t starting at zero.

    I stared down at Leon, his tiny form rising and falling with each breath.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said softly. ¡°How should I approach this?¡±

    I needed to learn more¡ªtest the boundaries of this strange power I¡¯d awakened. The faint stream of energy still connected me to Leon, though it had grown weaker since I¡¯d first noticed it. I stared at it, feeling a tugging sense of unease. I was certain I could strengthen the connection and siphon more of his aura, but the thought made my stomach twist.

    What if I accidentally hurt him?

    The idea was unbearable. Leon had saved my life, even if unintentionally. Hurting him, even by mistake, wasn¡¯t an option.

    I took a deep breath, focusing on the connection. With a mental nudge, I severed it, watching as the faint glow of energy faded. The absence of the stream left me feeling oddly hollow, but the relief of knowing Leon was safe outweighed it.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said aloud, mostly to myself. ¡°What do I know?¡±

    Auras had attributes¡ªqualities that influenced how abilities manifested. They shaped the nature of someone¡¯s powers and determined how they interacted with the world.

    Leon was clearly a Caster, with his fire-related abilities. That much was obvious from the way he¡¯d incinerated that snake earlier. His attributes likely revolved around fire¡ªdestructive, raw, and intense.

    But what about me?

    I sat down on a smooth rock, letting my breathing steady. Drawing on the Seeker aura, I turned my focus inward. It was an odd sensation, like peeling back layers of myself to observe what lay beneath.

    The first thing I noticed was my appearance¡ªor rather, how I¡¯d let it go. My beard had grown thick and unruly during my time in the mountains, a stark contrast to the clean-shaven look I used to keep. It wasn¡¯t the worst look, but it felt like a reflection of how far I¡¯d drifted from my old self.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, ¡°I¡¯ll shave once I¡¯ve got a handle on this aura stuff. That¡¯s the deal.¡±

    As I probed deeper, I finally caught a glimpse of my own aura. It was faint, barely perceptible, like a thin outline of energy that flickered in and out of view. No matter how much I tried to rouse it, it refused to grow.

    Pathetically miniscule.

    I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°Leon has more aura than me, huh?¡±

    The memory of the fall flashed in my mind¡ªthe desperate surge of energy that had kept me alive. That hadn¡¯t been my own strength. I¡¯d borrowed Leon¡¯s aura, drawn on his power to survive.

    The realization hit me like a cold wave. My survival wasn¡¯t thanks to some hidden reservoir of power within me.

    ¡°So that¡¯s my innate ability,¡± I murmured. ¡°I can borrow aura.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    It was both humbling and daunting. My ability wasn¡¯t self-sustaining. It relied on others¡ªon their strength, their aura. And yet, that dependency also made it versatile. If I could master it, I could adapt to any situation, drawing on the strengths of those around me.

    But that raised more questions. How far could I push this ability? Could I draw aura from anyone, or were there limits? And most importantly, how could I ensure I didn¡¯t harm anyone in the process?

    For now, I didn¡¯t have answers. But what I did have was a goal: to understand this power and to use it responsibly. I couldn¡¯t afford to fumble around in the dark anymore.

    It looked like in the end, one way or another, I would have to borrow Leon¡¯s aura to experiment.

    At this point, it was undeniable: I had the strongest affinity with the Dealer Aura.

    The revelation left me both awed and uneasy. Awakening your Aura via artificial means was a difficult feat already, and to awaken with a special ability right off the bat? That bordered on the bizarre. Most people took years to manifest even a rudimentary ability after awakening their aura, yet here I was, fumbling through experiments like some untrained prodigy.

    Over the next few days, I ran a series of experiments.

    They were exhausting but necessary. I borrowed Leon¡¯s aura, used it for a while, and then returned it. At first, I was terrified I¡¯d harm him, but as time passed, I realized I¡¯d been overthinking it. Leon was built differently.

    One time, a parasitic cryptid snuck into our camp¡ªa wiry creature with too many legs and venomous fangs. Before I could react, Leon incinerated it with a laser shot from his eyes, then went right back to rolling in the dirt like nothing had happened. I stood there, stunned, wondering how I¡¯d ended up raising a baby who was half genius, half chaos.

    With practice, I improved my technique, refining my ability with each attempt. The process was draining, but every session taught me something new. To keep track, I started writing down my discoveries in a battered notebook I¡¯d found in the cave.

    What I Learned About My Aura Ability:

    <ol>

    <li>Borrow or Steal via Touch:I could borrow or steal aura through physical contact.</li>

    <li>Manifesting Strings:The borrowed aura manifested as strings, invisible to the naked eye but probably visible under Seeker Aura-enhanced vision.</li>

    <li>Distance Limit:These strings could manifest at a distance, but only if I¡¯d touched the target within the past two minutes.</li>

    <li>Attribute Borrowing:I could specifically borrow an attribute of someone¡¯s aura, enhancing my use of aura in targeted ways.</li>

    <li>Low Aura Pool:My own aura pool was pitifully small, meaning I couldn¡¯t sustain aura usage for long without tapping into external power source.</li>

    <li>Dual/Partial Aura States:With practice, I could fluidly and partially switch between Aura States. For example, I could use Seeker Aura for perception while simultaneously channeling Fighter Aura for strength. This seemed to be a side effect of my low aura pool¡ªtransforming my aura as something flexible.</li>

    <li>Returning and Sabotaging Aura:I could return borrowed aura to its owner and even use it to disrupt or hijack their techniques. I¡¯d managed to stop Leon from exploding the chicken I caught for dinner this way.</li>

    <li>Multiple Targets:I could borrow aura from multiple individuals as long as they qualified as life forms. Aura was generated by the collision of Soul and Life Force, which explained why I could borrow a chicken¡¯s aura. However, non-hunters like the chicken had such small aura reserves that they were easily exhausted, nearly dying in the process.</li>

    <li>Perception-Based Limitation:Borrowing aura was limited by perception. If Leon was asleep or distracted, I couldn¡¯t borrow his aura.</li>

    <li>Rule of Equality:Borrowing aura followed an absolute rule of equality. When I borrowed Leon¡¯s aura, it was divided evenly between us. Theoretically, this made me invincible in one-on-one combat¡ªI could force my opponent into aura exhaustion by expending their aura while connected to them.</li>

    </ol>

    After jotting down these insights, I let out a long breath.

    My ability was powerful, but it had serious limitations. The mental strain of using it, the reliance on proximity and touch, and the risk of exposing my dependency on others¡ªall of these were glaring weaknesses. If I wanted to survive in the Hunter world, I¡¯d need to address these flaws and learn to turn them into strengths.

    For now, though, I focused on refining my control over the aura I borrowed. There was potential here, a vast reservoir of possibilities waiting to be unlocked. The more I tested it, the closer I came to understanding its full potential.

    Dealer-type special abilities were unnecessarily complicated, but that was just the nature of them. My ability¡ªone that allowed me to borrow aura¡ªhad a myriad of conditions and variables. It was a puzzle I¡¯d have to piece together over time, one experiment at a time.

    But I wasn¡¯t completely locked into this ability. While I lacked the raw specialization of a full-fledged Fighter or Seeker, I wasn¡¯t entirely limited. I could still tap into the basic applications of the other Seven States.

    Or Seven Methods as some called it.

    ¡°This ability,¡± I murmured, pausing for a moment. ¡°I think I would call this Soul Link.¡±

    The name felt right¡ªSoul Link. It captured the essence of my ability: the way I could connect to others, borrow their aura, their attributes, even their emotions. It wasn¡¯t flashy like Leon¡¯s laser beams, but it was powerful in its own way.

    Soul Link had potential. I could adapt to any situation, depending on who or what I connected with. The trick, though, was learning to use it effectively. That meant mastering the intricacies of each State to complement my ability.

    I turned to Leon.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    I just turned away for a second and Leon was already causing trouble.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    Leon was hugging a¡­ bunny? The small creature squirmed in his tiny arms, looking thoroughly miserable. Leon, however, seemed overjoyed, babbling incoherently as if telling the bunny his life story.

    ¡°Bublablaga!¡± he exclaimed, nuzzling the poor animal.

    If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d think Leon was torturing the bunny judging by how fed up it looked. I sighed, stepping closer. ¡°Hey, pal, you should let go of the bunny,¡± I said gently.

    I reached out to pry the creature from his grip, but Leon had other ideas. Without warning, he opened his mouth and unleashed a small burst of fire. I barely dodged, activating my Fighter Aura just in time to sidestep the flames.

    ¡°Leon!¡± I yelped, patting out a singed edge of my sleeve.

    He giggled, completely unrepentant, and tightened his hold on the bunny. The poor thing looked ready to pass out from stress.

    I crouched down, conflicted. I couldn¡¯t blame Leon entirely. I felt bad knowing I hadn¡¯t been able to buy him proper toys. This mountain life was tough, and I¡¯d prioritized survival over anything else. Now, my baby boy was finding amusement in things like grasshoppers and bunnies.

    I shuddered at the memory of Leon methodically pulling the legs off a grasshopper last week, giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world. If he did that to the bunny, I might just cry.

    An idea struck me.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try this,¡± I muttered, activating Soul Link. The invisible thread of aura connected me to Leon, and I immediately felt the surge of his fiery energy flowing into me.

    With a deep breath, I shifted my aura into Caster State. Fire gathered on my palm, flickering weakly at first but slowly stabilizing. Without Soul Link, this would have been impossible. My affinity with Caster Aura was abysmal¡ªI couldn¡¯t even manifest a proper flame on my own.

    Leon¡¯s aura, however, was a different story.

    As I concentrated, the ember in my palm grew brighter. Slowly, I molded it into a small, sustainable sphere of fire. Leon¡¯s eyes widened, his attention finally shifting from the bunny.

    I tossed the fireball softly into the air and caught it again, letting it land in my palm with a playful flourish. Leon¡¯s gaze followed the fiery sphere, his expression filled with wonder.

    ¡°Whoa~!¡± he gasped, finally releasing the bunny.

    The poor creature wasted no time, darting away into the underbrush.

    I exhaled in relief, then focused on creating another fireball in my other hand. It took me a full five minutes of intense concentration to form a second sphere with a solid shape. The effort was draining¡ªmy aura pool was pitiful, and even with Leon¡¯s help, this was pushing my limits.

    Still, I managed. With a fireball in each hand, I began juggling them, letting them arc gracefully through the air.

    Leon clapped his hands in delight, his earlier mischief forgotten. ¡°Whoa~! Wah~!¡±

    I dismissed one of the fireballs, deciding to conserve my energy. Instead, I concentrated on stabilizing the remaining sphere, making it more durable and less likely to explode. My Aura Control was decent, compensating somewhat for my lack of raw power.

    ¡°Catch!¡± I called, tossing the fireball in a slow arc toward Leon.

    To my astonishment, the sphere curved mid-air, landing perfectly in his tiny hands.

    ¡°Whoa~!¡± Leon marveled, staring at the fireball with wide eyes.

    I froze. How had he done that? Then it hit me¡ªof course. It was his aura to begin with. I was just borrowing it.

    ¡°Hey, kiddo,¡± I said, recovering from my surprise. ¡°Why don¡¯t you pass it back?¡±

    Leon glanced between me and the fireball, his little brow furrowing in concentration. Then, mimicking my earlier motion, he tossed it toward me.

    I caught the fireball easily, feeling its newfound stability. The energy felt more refined, more balanced.

    ¡°Nice,¡± I murmured, a small smile tugging at my lips.

    For the next hour, Leon and I played catch with the fireball. Each throw and catch seemed to strengthen the connection between us, both literally and figuratively.

    As I watched him laugh and marvel at the fiery sphere, a sense of warmth filled my chest¡ªnot from the fire, but from the bond we were forming.

    This wasn¡¯t just training. It was something more. Something I hadn¡¯t realized I needed until now.

    I was bonding with my baby boy.

    ~006

 007 A Past Revealed

    VII

    A couple of years ago, Leora had been one of the Hunter Association¡¯s most formidable agents. Her skill and tenacity were unmatched, and her latest mission had proven to be one of the most dangerous she had ever undertaken. The target had been relentless, the stakes impossibly high, but in the end, Leora had prevailed.

    It was during that mission that she stumbled upon something that shook her to her core¡ªa conspiracy that would change everything she thought she knew about the Hunter Association.

    The Hunting Dog Initiative.

    The name alone was enough to send chills down her spine. It was a secretive project designed to program alternate personalities into unsuspecting hunters. These personalities could be activated and controlled at will, turning the affected hunters into mindless tools for the Association¡¯s darker purposes.

    And Leora had discovered that she was one of them.

    The realization had been a gut punch, a betrayal so deep that it left her reeling. She hated herself for it¡ªfor being unable to stop it, for not noticing the signs earlier. She had prided herself on her instincts, her sharpness, and yet she had been blind to the truth.

    The criteria for becoming a Hunting Dog were chillingly simple: one had to be ¡°undesirable.¡± Criminals, the homeless, the mentally ill¡­ and orphans.

    Leora fit the profile perfectly.

    As a child, she had been part of a Hunter training program designed for orphans like her. She had always believed it to be some kind of scholarship, a golden opportunity to escape her bleak circumstances and build a future. But now, she knew the truth¡ªit had all been a lie.

    If it hadn¡¯t been for Selena, Leora might have remained ignorant of the conspiracy forever. Selena, her old friend and confidante, had stumbled upon fragments of the truth and shared them with Leora. Together, they had uncovered the horrifying extent of the Secret Initiative.

    But Selena was gone now, lost to the very organization they had fought to expose.

    Or probably, just hiding¡­

    Leora couldn¡¯t keep living that life. She quit the Hunter Association, vanishing from the shadows and severing all ties. The alternate personality implanted within her was removed in exchange of a favor¡ªit had been a harrowing process that left her weak and vulnerable. She had fully expected the Association to hunt her down and eliminate her, but to her surprise, they didn¡¯t. The President of the Association had let her go, for reasons she still didn¡¯t understand.

    Leora went into hiding, retreating from the world. She lived as a shut-in, cutting all ties with her former life. She had enough money to live comfortably, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to relax. She spent her days reading web novels, losing herself in fictional worlds far removed from her grim reality.

    There was one author she particularly admired, someone she had followed for a long time. Their online alias was Butterfly23, and Leora had grown close to them through shared messages and comments. One day, on a whim, she decided to meet them in real life.

    They met in a caf¨¦.

    The moment she saw them, the first words out of her mouth were, ¡°You¡¯re a guy?¡±

    She had always imagined Butterfly23 as a cute, elder sister figure who would spoil her rotten. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Reynard, a flustered man who nearly choked on his drink at her bluntness.

    From that bizarre meeting, Leora¡¯s life took an unexpected turn. What had started as an action-packed, high-stakes existence devolved into something entirely different. Her life became a rom-com, filled with awkward moments, playful banter, and growing affection.

    Eventually, they fell in love. They got married, and not long after, they had a baby boy.

    ¡­

    Leora woke up abruptly, her blonde hair sprawled messily across the pillow. Her blue eyes blinked against the dim light of the motel room, scanning her surroundings as reality settled in.

    It had all been a dream¡ªa bittersweet memory of the past, woven together with fragments of hope and regret.

    She sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair. The room was quiet, the air stale. She had no idea what the day would bring, but for now, she allowed herself a moment to remember the life she had left behind.

    Her past might have been filled with pain and betrayal, but it had also given her moments of joy and love. And those moments, however fleeting, were worth holding onto.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see what we have here¡­¡±

    After finding her laptop, she then returned to her investigation.

    Leora¡¯s fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, her expression hardening with each precise keystroke. The dim glow of her laptop illuminated her face, the only light in the dark motel room. Her blue eyes flickered with intensity as the screen displayed the familiar yet detested interface of the Hunter¡¯s Net, a hidden and encrypted network known only to hunters and those with access to their clandestine world.

    Years had passed since Leora last tapped into the Net. She had vowed never to return to it, hoping that the life she built with Reynard would shield her from the shadows of her past. But the attack on her home had shattered that fragile peace. Her sanctuary was violated, and her family was endangered.

    Whoever orchestrated the assault had made a grave mistake.

    Leora the Bright. Leora of the Guiding Light. Once, those names had struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. As a hunter, she had been relentless, pursuing justice and retribution with an unyielding determination. But she had paid the price for her devotion to the hunt. The cost was steep, and when Reynard entered her life, she thought she had finally escaped its toll.

    Now, it seemed her past had come back to claim her.

    Her hands hesitated for a moment as she scrolled through a list of old contacts, most of whom were now marked inactive. Many were retired, some had disappeared, and others¡­ others were dead. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep going. There had to be something¡ªsome thread she could pull to uncover who had targeted her family.

    The attack wasn¡¯t random. It was too calculated, too precise. They knew where to find them. They knew when to strike.

    ¡°Who are they?¡± Leora muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she sifted through fragmented information.

    Her mind churned through the possibilities. Over the years, she had made countless enemies¡ªcorrupt hunters, rogue organizations, entities that used aura for unspeakable purposes. But this group felt different. They were invisible, methodical, and entirely unfamiliar.

    Her frustration mounted as she found little more than vague rumors: whispers of a new faction operating in the shadows, targeting retired hunters and those with connections to a buried past.

    But why her? And why now?

    Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms as the memory of the attack resurfaced. They had come so close to taking Reynard and Leon from her. Too close. She couldn¡¯t let it go. She wouldn¡¯t let it go.

    Leora¡¯s fingers hovered over the keyboard, the weight of her next decision pressing down on her. She hated what she was about to do, but there was no other choice.

    She opened an old chat window, one she hadn¡¯t touched in years. The name on the other end sent a shiver down her spine. It was a contact she never thought she¡¯d need to call on again, but desperate times demanded desperate measures.

    With a deep breath, she typed a single message:

    Leora_Bright: I need information. Meet me where it all started.

    Her heart sank as she hit send. She knew what this would cost her, but she also knew there was no turning back.

    Old_Man: I know what you want.

    Leora stared at the message on her laptop, her fingers poised over the keyboard as her heart thudded in her chest.

    Leora_Bright: How much?

    She held her breath, her pulse loud in her ears as she waited for the reply.

    Old_Man: We will talk.

    The words sent a chill down her spine. Stefan wasn¡¯t one to avoid naming a price. The fact that he hadn¡¯t meant something was wrong.

    Leora exhaled slowly, pushing her unease aside. ¡°I¡¯m going to hunt them down,¡± she muttered to herself, her voice firm with resolve. ¡°No matter what it costs.¡±

    She tied her blonde hair into a ponytail, the action swift and practiced, before sliding her helmet into place. The click of the visor locking down was like the closing of a chapter¡ªthe quiet civilian life she had fought so hard for was over.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    With deliberate movements, she packed her gear, careful to leave no trace of her presence in the dingy motel room. Sliding through the window into the narrow alley outside, she darted into the shadows, the cold night air biting at her skin.

    Her bike was parked a short distance away, hidden from view. She swung a leg over the sleek machine and revved the engine, its growl breaking the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, she sped off, the city¡¯s lights blurring as she weaved through empty streets.

    The journey to the meeting point felt both endless and fleeting.

    It was outside the World Wall, a City-state just around the Norther Wall¡­

    The random spatial tears between the Claimed Lands and the Forbidden Region had grown more frequent, a constant reminder of the world¡¯s fragility. Creatures slipped through those tears, but it wasn¡¯t the monsters that worried her. It was the people. Hunters, rogues, and worse¡ªthose who thrived in chaos.

    Leora¡¯s destination loomed ahead, a rundown warehouse on the city¡¯s outskirts. She cut the engine and dismounted, moving silently into the alley beside the building.

    Under a flickering streetlight stood Stefan, the ¡°Old Man¡± she had contacted. His rugged face was lined with age, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. The soft glow of the light highlighted the sharpness in his eyes, a look that hadn¡¯t dulled with time.

    ¡°Bright,¡± he said, exhaling a plume of smoke as his gaze settled on her.

    ¡°Stefan,¡± she replied, stepping into the light.

    The two of them stood in tense silence, their history unspoken but heavy in the air. Leora knew this wasn¡¯t a friendly reunion. Stefan was a hunter for profit, and every interaction with him came with a price.

    ¡°You¡¯re in trouble,¡± Stefan said, his tone flat. ¡°What¡¯s with you and bad luck? You¡¯re bad for business, Bright.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to reminisce,¡± Leora said, her voice cold. ¡°Someone attacked my family. I need to know who they are.¡±

    Stefan raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t press. ¡°You¡¯ve got serious enemies, Bright. Always did.¡±

    ¡°I need information,¡± she repeated. ¡°Now.¡±

    Stefan sighed, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. ¡°Whoever came after you isn¡¯t playing around. They¡¯re professionals, Leora the Bright. Or is it Leora Bright now? They¡¯ve been hitting hunters all over, one by one.¡±

    Her jaw tightened. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it. How much?¡± Leora ignored the comment and jab at Stefan¡¯s mention of ¡®Bright¡¯ too aware that Stefan was testing her.

    Stefan let out a dark chuckle. ¡°You always had a death wish. Be careful, Bright. This isn¡¯t the same world we used to hunt in.¡± He hesitated before adding, ¡°Talks of expeditions into the Forbidden Region are on the rise again. And as someone from the last generation, let me tell you¡ªthey¡¯ll fail. And when they do, a calamity will follow.¡±

    The mention of the Forbidden Region sent a chill down her spine. It was a place of unfathomable danger, where hunters went in bold and came out broken¡ªif they came out at all. But Leora wasn¡¯t here to entertain ghost stories.

    ¡°How much?¡± she pressed, her voice cutting through his warnings.

    Stefan¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Forget money. You¡¯ll owe me a favor instead.¡±

    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What kind of favor?¡±

    Stefan stepped closer, his gaze piercing. ¡°Your husband¡¯s a mundane, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    The silence that followed was deafening. Stefan knew exactly where to strike, and Leora hated that he was right. Leora suppressed a scoff as she let Stefan continue.

    ¡°Then it is relevant to you,¡± he continued, his voice low. ¡°Last time they failed, they brought something back. A plague. The kind that tore through cities like wildfire. Do you know how many bodies were buried the week after? Enough to build a mountain.¡±

    Leora swallowed hard, but her face betrayed no emotion. She¡¯d heard the stories¡ªthe plague that devastated the Claimed Lands, leaving scars that hadn¡¯t healed even after all these years. But no amount of warnings would change her mind.

    Stefan sighed, his hard gaze softening slightly. ¡°Take it as advice from an old friend. Go home. Be there for your husband while you still can. You know how fragile mundanes are.¡±

    Leora¡¯s fists clenched at her sides, but she didn¡¯t respond. She couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Stefan said, his voice resigned. ¡°I¡¯ll get you what you need. But don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡±

    ¡­

    Leora zipped through the dimly lit streets, her mind focused on the lead she¡¯d picked up some time ago. The city was a blur of muted lights and darkened buildings as she leaned into the turns, her bike¡¯s engine purring beneath her. Stefan¡¯s warning echoed faintly in her mind, but she pushed it aside. She had no time for doubt. Not now.

    The lead was promising¡ªtoo promising, she realized a second too late. Her instincts flared, a prickling sensation running up her spine.

    Her fingers gripped the handlebars, and she launched herself off the bike mid-motion. She landed in a crouch just as the bike surged forward into a hidden net trap. The net sprang to life, crackling with fire, and her bike was instantly engulfed in flames.

    Leora¡¯s sharp eyes narrowed. Mundane tech. Not aura.

    These weren¡¯t hunters. They were mercenaries.

    The sudden roar of gunfire erupted from the windows above. The unmistakable chatter of automatic rifles filled the air, and bullets peppered the spot where she had just been standing. She rolled to the side, her body moving fluidly as her aura-enhanced reflexes kicked in.

    As a Seeker-type, her senses and reactions were leagues beyond the norm. The mercenaries¡¯ attacks were chaotic, but her movements were calculated, precise. She darted between alleyways, her boots silent on the pavement, the city¡¯s shadows swallowing her whole.

    The gunfire grew distant as she maneuvered through the maze of narrow streets, her breathing steady, her focus razor-sharp. The mercenaries were dangerous in numbers, but they weren¡¯t her real concern.

    Her instincts flared again as she turned a corner into a darkened alley.

    Someone¡¯s here.

    Leora froze, her sharp gaze locking onto the figure standing at the far end of the alley. Cloaked in shadows, their aura radiated power. Unlike the mercenaries, this one was unmistakably a hunter.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been making waves, Leora the Bright,¡± the figure said, stepping forward. Their voice was calm, but it carried an undercurrent of menace. ¡°It¡¯s time to stop. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be retired?¡±

    Her hand drifted to the hilt of her blade, hidden beneath her coat. ¡°Who are you? Who sent you?¡±

    The hunter didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, they raised a hand, and the air around them began to shimmer, faint distortions rippling through the space. Leora¡¯s sharp senses identified the type instantly¡ªa Trickster.

    ¡°My name is Thomas,¡± the hunter finally said, his voice low. ¡°It¡¯s not you we want. Walk away, and maybe we¡¯ll let you live.¡±

    Leora¡¯s jaw tightened. Tricksters were masters of illusion, their abilities designed to distort reality and lower their opponents¡¯ guard. But against a Seeker like her, their tricks rarely held.

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t want me poking around,¡± she said, her voice steady and cold, ¡°you should¡¯ve left my family alone.¡±

    Thomas smirked, his aura crackling faintly. ¡°We warned you.¡±

    Leora moved without warning. Her blade flashed in the dim light as she closed the distance in an instant, her brass-knuckled fist following the arc of her knife.

    But before her strike could land, a sharp crack echoed through the alley.

    Pain radiated through her skull as her helmet split, the impact barely missing her head. She staggered back, her instincts screaming.

    Thomas stood smugly, his fist glowing with the unmistakable energy of a Fighter¡¯s aura. ¡°I didn¡¯t come alone,¡± he said, his smirk widening. ¡°And yes, I¡¯m a Fighter.¡±

    Leora weaved under his next punch, the air around her crackling with energy. She had been tricked¡ªThomas wasn¡¯t just a Trickster. He was a hybrid, a Fighter-Trickster, combining the raw strength of a Fighter with the deceptive abilities of a Trickster.

    Her vision blurred slightly, the distortion in the air making it harder to focus. There¡¯s another one, she realized.

    Somewhere nearby, a second Trickster was at work, amplifying the illusions and throwing off her perception.

    Leora gritted her teeth, her mind racing as she evaded another blow. She couldn¡¯t afford to fight on their terms. She needed to find the second Trickster¡ªfast.

    Sliding beneath Thomas¡¯s next strike, she spun on her heel and slashed upward with her blade. Sparks flew as the knife glanced off his aura-shielded forearm. His strength was impressive, but his attacks were predictable.

    Her senses flared again, pinpointing the faint aura signature nearby. There.

    With a burst of speed, Leora darted to the side, breaking away from Thomas.

    Alas, her evasion had been proven ineffective.

    The new arrival was a Caster.

    Leora¡¯s knees buckled as the airless sphere tightened its grip. Her lungs screamed for oxygen, her body trembling under the oppressive force. The smirking Caster kept her hands raised, her aura flaring as she maintained the spell with ease.

    Thomas stepped closer, his mocking grin illuminated by the dim streetlights. ¡°Not so bright now, are you?¡± he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. ¡°Sarah, hurt her more¡­¡± added Thomas as he addressed the Caster.

    ¡°You are not the boss of me, Thomas,¡± snarkily replied the woman in purple.

    Leora didn¡¯t respond as the pressure in her skull increased. Her instincts screamed at her to stay calm, to focus. She was a Seeker, trained to read the flow of battle and exploit openings. But right now, she had no air to breathe, no strength to strike back.

    Above her, the real Trickster¡ªthe man in the sweater and glasses¡ªwatched with detached amusement from the edge of the roof. His unremarkable appearance belied the sharp cunning in his eyes.

    ¡°You know,¡± he said casually, adjusting his glasses, ¡°I¡¯ve read all about you, Leora of the Guiding Light. A prodigy, they said. But honestly, I expected more. You¡¯ve been disappointing so far.¡±

    Leora¡¯s grip on her knife tightened, her knuckles white. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to lash out, but she held back, forcing herself to think. The Trickster¡¯s taunts were a distraction. Sarah was the immediate threat.

    The young man leaned forward, his smirk widening. ¡°Ah, where are my manners? I should explain why we¡¯re here. You see, I¡¯m putting together a team. A proper one. But teams need resources, and the best resources are always... personal. Your son, Leonard, for example. He¡¯d make a fine addition to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Leora snarled, her voice rasping through the suffocating pressure.

    The Trickster chuckled, unfazed. ¡°Oh, I dare. And honestly, it¡¯s nothing personal. He¡¯s just a job, a way to get paid. You understand, don¡¯t you? Mercenary work is all about opportunity.¡±

    Sarah glanced at the Trickster, her smirk matching his. ¡°Should I end it?¡±

    Leora¡¯s mind raced. She couldn¡¯t let this end here¡ªnot like this. Her vision blurred, her body screaming in protest as the crushing force around her intensified.

    But she wasn¡¯t done yet.

    Through the haze of suffocation, her Seeker aura flared. She didn¡¯t need to breathe to sense the flow of energy around her, to see the weak points in her enemies¡¯ defenses. Sarah¡¯s control wasn¡¯t absolute¡ªher focus wavered slightly whenever she spoke or glanced at the Trickster.

    It was a slim opening, but it was enough.

    Leora¡¯s brass-knuckled hand twitched, and with a surge of effort, she slammed her fist into the ground. Her aura channeled into the strike, sending a shockwave rippling outward. The impact wasn¡¯t enough to harm Sarah, but it disrupted her concentration for a split second.

    The airless sphere faltered.

    Leora sucked in a desperate gasp of air, her body lurching forward as she regained her footing. Her knife flashed in the dim light, and with a swift, calculated motion, she hurled it toward Sarah.

    The Caster reacted instinctively, twisting to avoid the blade. The sphere collapsed entirely as her focus broke, and Leora lunged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant.

    Sarah¡¯s eyes widened, but before she could raise her hands again, Leora¡¯s brass-knuckled fist connected with her jaw. The force of the blow sent the woman sprawling to the ground, her aura flickering and fading.

    Thomas roared, charging toward Leora with his fists crackling with energy. She sidestepped his wild swing, her movements fluid and precise.

    ¡°You¡¯ve made a mistake,¡± Leora said coldly, her voice steady despite her earlier struggle. ¡°You came after my family.¡±

    Thomas snarled, swinging again, but Leora was faster. Her Seeker aura guided her movements, and she slipped behind him, delivering a sharp kick to the back of his knee. He stumbled, and Leora didn¡¯t hesitate. She drove her brass-knuckled fist into his side, sending him crashing into the alley wall.

    The Trickster clapped slowly from his perch above. ¡°Impressive. Truly. But you¡¯re out of time, Leora. Reinforcements are on their way, and you¡¯re in no condition to fight them all.¡±

    Leora¡¯s sharp gaze locked onto him, her chest heaving as she steadied her breathing. ¡°You should¡¯ve brought them with you,¡± she said.

    The Trickster¡¯s smirk faltered, but only for a moment. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll see you again, Leora. And next time, I¡¯ll make sure Leonard gets my personal attention.¡±

    Before she could respond, the Trickster vanished, his aura fading into the shadows.

    Leora stood motionless for a moment, her fists clenched, her heart pounding with fury.

    They had underestimated her.

    And they would pay for it.

    ~007

 008 A Favor Owed

    VIII

    Leora gritted her teeth as the sharp pain in her abdomen radiated outward. She pressed her hand against the wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood seeping through her fingers. She had been careless, rusty even, and the Trickster had taken full advantage of her lapse.

    ¡°Surprise!¡± the Trickster whisper-shouted, his voice oozing mockery. He stood a few paces away, his knife still gleaming with her blood. ¡°Sorry, I lied.¡±

    Leora¡¯s body shimmered as she transformed into a burst of photon particles, disappearing just before he could strike again. She reappeared on the rooftop above, stumbling slightly as the effort to reform herself left her lightheaded. Her hand pressed harder against her abdomen, attempting to stem the bleeding.

    The Trickster followed her effortlessly, leaping onto the roof with a casual grace that belied his lethal intent. His smirk widened as he landed, his hands spread in mock surrender.

    ¡°Where is the boy?¡± he asked, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes gleamed with menace. ¡°Oh, introductions! I almost forgot! I am sooo rude~! Loki. Please, call me Loki~!¡±

    Leora straightened, meeting his gaze with a cold smile of her own. ¡°Loki,¡± she repeated, her voice steady despite the pain coursing through her.

    Loki tilted his head, studying her with feigned curiosity. ¡°Why are you smiling?¡±

    ¡°Because,¡± Leora began, her tone teasing despite the ache in her side, ¡°my husband is really smart. Can you imagine it? A hunter like you outdone by a mere mundane.¡±

    Loki¡¯s grin faltered for a split second.

    Leora took a steadying breath, her smile unwavering. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your time,¡± she said calmly. ¡°I assure you, you¡¯ll never find him.¡±

    Loki¡¯s expression darkened, though the smirk quickly returned. He wasn¡¯t so easily shaken. ¡°Off-grid, huh? That¡¯s fine and all. I¡¯m not exactly trying that hard,¡± he said with a shrug, as if her defiance was nothing more than an inconvenience.

    He leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed but his gaze piercing. ¡°But you know, Bright, I could help you protect your family. Good deal, right? Why not join my Troupe? Dedicated trackers are a pain to deal with, even for someone like you.¡±

    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed at the word. ¡°Troupe?¡± she echoed, her voice low and disbelieving.

    ¡°Ah, yeah, you heard me right,¡± Loki said, clearly relishing her reaction. ¡°Not a Guild, not a Clan, and definitely not the Hunter Association. Too stuffy for my tastes. No, I¡¯m building something better. A Troupe. A group of people united by intersecting personal interests.¡±

    He gestured grandly, his movements theatrical. ¡°I¡¯m still workshopping the name, but I¡¯m leaning toward The Undead Troupe. Catchy, right? And our motto? ¡®We never tire of work!¡¯ Get it? Because we¡¯re relentless.¡±

    He chuckled at his own joke, his laughter light and carefree, though his eyes never left hers.

    Leora remained silent, her poker face masterful. Her mind raced as she calculated her next move, the throbbing pain in her abdomen a constant reminder of her mistake. She couldn¡¯t afford to let him gain the upper hand again.

    Loki took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°Think about it, Leora. Join me, and I¡¯ll make sure no one ever touches your precious son. Refuse, and... well, let¡¯s just say dedicated trackers aren¡¯t the only problem you¡¯ll have to deal with.¡±

    Leora¡¯s breath steadied, her eyes narrowing. ¡°I don¡¯t need your help,¡± she said coldly. ¡°And I don¡¯t take orders from clowns who name themselves after gods.¡±

    Loki¡¯s sharp eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Leora¡¯s stoic expression. ¡°Come on,¡± he urged, his tone oozing false sincerity. ¡°Think about it. You¡¯re strong, smart, and clearly capable. Your family could use some... insurance, you know? Protection from the bigger fish out there. All I¡¯m asking is for you to join my Troupe.¡±

    Leora clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She knew his game. He wasn¡¯t offering protection¡ªhe was preying on her fears, dangling the illusion of safety before her while setting the trap. Fury simmered beneath her calm exterior, but she didn¡¯t let it show.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather die than join you,¡± she spat, her voice cold and laced with venom.

    For the first time, Loki¡¯s mask of charm slipped. His grin faltered, and a flash of irritation crossed his face before he recovered, his smile turning sharp and cruel. ¡°Well,¡± he said, his voice tight, ¡°that¡¯s a damn shame.¡±

    He took a step back, raising a hand in a casual gesture as though brushing her off. ¡°Buh-bye then! Thomas, kill her.¡±

    Leora¡¯s instincts screamed at her, and she whirled around, realizing too late that Thomas had somehow crept up behind her. She barely had time to register his looming presence before¡ªthud.

    Thomas crumpled to the ground without a sound, his body hitting the pavement like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

    Leora blinked, momentarily stunned. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. The oppressive weight of her situation lifted for a split second, and she knew she couldn¡¯t waste the opportunity.

    There was no time to question, no time to wonder what¡ªor who¡ªhad intervened.

    Her aura flared to life, wrapping her body in a protective sheen of light. The air around her seemed to hum with energy as she activated her Seeker abilities, sharpening her senses to the edge of human perception. Without hesitation, she turned and bolted, her form blurring as she vanished into the labyrinth of the city streets.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    The wind roared in her ears as she pushed herself to her absolute limit. Buildings and alleys melted together into a streak of shadows and neon lights. Her boots barely touched the ground as she weaved through the urban maze, every muscle in her body screaming for her to stop, but she refused to slow down.

    Behind her, Loki¡¯s voice echoed faintly, tinged with frustration and disbelief. ¡°What the hell just happened?¡±

    Leora didn¡¯t look back. She didn¡¯t dare. Her only focus was escape, and ensuring she lived to protect her family another day.

    A few minutes later¡­

    Leora stumbled to a halt outside a dimly lit convenience store, her chest heaving as she struggled to calm her racing heart. The night air felt heavy, thick with the remnants of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She scanned her surroundings, the neon glow of the store''s sign casting flickering shadows across the deserted street.

    Her instincts prickled. Someone was there.

    ¡°Come out,¡± she called, her voice low but firm. Her senses, honed by years of hunting, caught the faintest ripple in the air¡ªa presence carefully suppressing their aura, almost undetectable.

    A figure stepped forward, rising from the darkness as though materializing from her shadow. He was a tall man in a sharp black suit with white pinstripes. Despite the night, he wore dark shades that obscured his eyes, and beneath his left eye was a small black diamond tattoo.

    Leora¡¯s hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her knife, her fingers twitching as she studied him. He didn¡¯t move to attack, merely stood there with a calm, measured air that put her on edge.

    ¡°It was you, wasn¡¯t it?¡± she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in her muscles. ¡°The one who saved me back there?¡±

    The man inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. ¡°Call me Jacob,¡± he said, his voice smooth and composed.

    The name meant nothing to her, but his presence was enough to tell her he wasn¡¯t an ordinary bystander. Every movement he made was calculated, precise. This was someone who knew how to fight, how to kill.

    ¡°Why?¡± she asked, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Why help me?¡±

    Jacob didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small strip of paper, holding it out to her. Leora hesitated, her guard up, before snatching it from his hand.

    Her eyes scanned the slip, confusion knitting her brow.

    ¡°It¡¯s from your favorite author,¡± Jacob said, his tone light yet carrying an undertone of seriousness.

    Leora froze. Her breath caught as her mind processed the words. She looked up sharply at him, her chest tightening. ¡°What?¡±

    Jacob gave a faint smile, almost imperceptible. ¡°He said he¡¯s the most handsome guy in the world and you couldn¡¯t resist him. Banana.¡±

    Heat rushed to her face. Banana. The safe word. Her safe word. The word they used whenever they felt like being playful in private.

    ¡°Banana, my ass,¡± she muttered, the blush on her cheeks betraying her annoyance. ¡°I¡¯d have known if he just said Butterfly¡­¡±

    Butterfly. Reynard¡¯s safe word.

    For a brief moment, Leora¡¯s hard exterior cracked. Her hand trembled slightly as she clutched the paper, emotions she had buried threatening to rise to the surface. She forced herself to hold it together, even as memories of her husband flashed through her mind.

    Her eyes darted to the number scrawled on the slip. She didn¡¯t need long to memorize it, but seeing it made her heart pound. There was no mistaking it¡ªit was him.

    Leora shoved the paper into her pocket, her expression hardening as she turned back to Jacob. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±

    Jacob shrugged, his demeanor unshaken. ¡°It¡¯s a job from the Author. He has something I want. Talk to him.¡±

    Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Reynard. Doubt crept into her mind. Reynard¡ªthe steady, predictable Reynard she thought she knew¡ªhad always been the rock of their family. Or so she had believed.

    Now, uncertainty gnawed at her. Reynard¡¯s voluntary disappearance two years ago had been the final layer of protection for their family, a decision they had agreed on after the incident. But Leora had always assumed she knew the full story.

    What if she didn¡¯t?

    Her grip tightened on the phone as she stared at the number. She hadn¡¯t spoken to Reynard since he left. Trusting him to stay hidden, to keep their son safe, had been her way of coping with the separation. But now, Jacob¡¯s words cast doubt on everything.

    What if Reynard had been involved in something dangerous all along?

    She unlocked her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as she debated her next move. Calling him might bring her the answers she needed, but it could also pull her deeper into the shadows of his secrets.

    Jacob stood silently, his patience unnerving as he watched her.

    Leora took a deep breath and dialed the number.

    The line rang once. Twice.

    Then she heard it.

    ¡°Leora?¡± Reynard¡¯s voice was calm, familiar. As if nothing had changed.

    But to her, everything had.

    ¡°Reynard,¡± she whispered, her grip on the phone tightening. ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    The phone crackled softly as Reynard¡¯s voice came through, calm but with a touch of suspicion.

    ¡°Password?¡± he asked.

    Leora blinked, confused. ¡°W-what?¡±

    Reynard sighed on the other end, his tone patient but firm. ¡°Butterfly.¡±

    Leora let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Banana.¡±

    There was a brief pause before Reynard¡¯s voice came back, laced with amusement. ¡°How does it taste?¡±

    Leora¡¯s cheeks flushed crimson. ¡°Are you serious right now? You want phone sex right now?¡±

    Reynard chuckled softly. ¡°It¡¯s the only foolproof identity verification method I could think of.¡±

    Her voice dropped to a whisper as her embarrassment deepened. ¡°It tastes delish, s-sensei¡­ Do you like it? Or do I like it?¡±

    Reynard¡¯s tone turned teasing. ¡°I would have been fine if you just said sensei, you know?¡±

    Leora¡¯s frustration boiled over. ¡°Stop teasing me, idiot! If you wanted to verify my identity, you should have just asked me where my hidden mole is!¡±

    The mortification burned brighter as she remembered why she always called him sensei when doing the deed. It wasn¡¯t her proudest habit, but one that had stuck over the years.

    Still flustered, she stammered, ¡°This is unfair¡­ I also need to¡­ v-verify your identity.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s tone shifted to a mock-serious one. ¡°How do you want to do it?¡±

    Leora inhaled sharply. ¡°How do I like it?¡±

    Without missing a beat, Reynard replied, ¡°Missionary.¡±

    Her face burned hotter. ¡°No hesitation at all!¡±

    For the first time since the call started, Leora¡¯s attention flickered to Jacob. He stood nearby, utterly silent, his unreadable expression hidden behind those ridiculous shades.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Leora cleared her throat, her voice sharp as she forced the conversation back on track. ¡°Let¡¯s meet.¡±

    ¡°Time and place,¡± Reynard replied, his tone steady and businesslike now.

    Leora didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°The place where we first met. How about a week from now? Or two weeks from now? I have some¡­ cleanup to do. I was ambushed, and I need to cover my tracks.¡±

    There was a pause on the other end before Reynard¡¯s voice dropped an octave, his tone laced with concern. ¡°Is it the Undead Troupe?¡±

    Leora¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°H-how did you know? Yes, it¡¯s them.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re more dangerous than they appear,¡± Reynard warned, his voice grim. ¡°Especially their leader. Never engage them. Not the way you are now. So, the guy who gave you my number¡­ Is he still with you? Wears shades, little diamond tattoo under his left eye?¡±

    Leora¡¯s gaze flickered to Jacob, who remained as composed as ever. ¡°Yeah¡­ What is his deal?¡±

    Reynard¡¯s voice turned thoughtful. ¡°He still owes me two favors after giving you this contact number. Use him if you must¡ªbodyguard, distraction, whatever you think he¡¯s worth.¡±

    Leora frowned, her instincts pushing back against the idea. ¡°No,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I think I¡¯ll dismiss him.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Reynard replied, approval evident in his tone. ¡°The fewer attachments, the better. Two weeks, then¡ªMarch 17. I¡¯ll meet you there. ¡±

    The call ended with a click, leaving Leora holding the phone in silence.

    Jacob finally spoke, his tone neutral. ¡°Well, that was¡­ illuminating.¡±

    Leora ignored him, her mind racing as she slipped the phone into her pocket. She had two weeks to prepare, two weeks to untangle herself from the web of threats closing in around her family.

    And two weeks to figure out just what secrets Reynard had been keeping from her.

    ~008

 009 Departure by Ash

    IX

    The phone pressed against my ear felt heavier than it should have, while my mind focused on keeping my voice low. Leon was finally asleep in his crib, his soft breaths filling the otherwise quiet cave. The thought of waking him after the battle I¡¯d endured to get him to sleep made me tread carefully.

    ¡°Leora, give the phone to Jacob,¡± I said, keeping my tone steady.

    There was a muffled shuffle on the other end, then a familiar voice. ¡°This is Jacob.¡±

    Straight to business.

    ¡°I have two possible answers for the information you want,¡± I began. ¡°The location of the Lesser Key of Solomon, or the direct translated instructions on how to catch devils. Choose the former, and you¡¯ll owe me another three favors. Choose the latter, and we¡¯ll be quits.¡±

    Jacob paused, the line falling silent for a few seconds. I could almost hear him calculating. Finally, he asked, his voice edged with cautious curiosity, ¡°How are you going to enforce these favors?¡±

    I smiled faintly, amused but not surprised. ¡°Easy. I¡¯ll threaten you with information. In your case, dissemination of everything about you¡ªyour special ability, your weaknesses, your past life, your connections, your aliases. I¡¯ve collected more than enough on you. Think of what I¡¯ll do with that if you decide you''re above my rules.¡±

    The silence stretched, heavier this time. Jacob hated being cornered, but he knew better than to underestimate me.

    Finally, he let out a breath, breaking the tension. ¡°I don¡¯t like being threatened¡ª¡± His words faltered, leaving the sentence unfinished.

    I let the silence hang for a moment before softening my tone, just enough to assure him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I have no intention of blackmailing you. I¡¯m a businessman¡ªintegrity and whatnot. As long as you don¡¯t screw with me, I won¡¯t screw with you.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a threat; it was a fact. Jacob understood the rules between people like us. Cross a line, and there was no going back.

    ¡°Understood,¡± he finally said, his voice more subdued. ¡°I¡¯ll choose the latter, the devil-catching info. It¡¯s more useful for what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    ¡°Smart choice,¡± I replied, nodding to myself. ¡°You¡¯ll have it within the next two days.¡±

    There was nothing more to say. Jacob wasn¡¯t the kind of person you built friendships with, but for now, we had an understanding. That was all I needed. Even if he managed to get the Lesser Key of Solomon, he¡¯d still need it translated. More work for him, less concern for me.

    ¡°Tell Leora I¡¯ll see her soon,¡± I added before hanging up.

    As the call ended, I looked over at Leon, still asleep in his crib. His tiny chest rose and fell steadily, peaceful and unaware of the dangerous world waiting outside. For now, he was safe. For now, I had time.

    But I wouldn¡¯t be able to stay off the grid much longer. Too many pieces were moving, and soon enough, I¡¯d have to show my hand. I just hoped Leora would be ready when the time came.

    Two weeks. It seemed like an eternity, but I had learned to make the most of time. I had spent the past week meticulously erasing every trace of our presence here, burning anything that could be tied back to us. The cave, once a refuge, was now an empty shell, wiped clean of human life.

    ¡°Buuu~¡±

    Leon¡¯s faint whimper brought me back to the present. A ripple of discomfort brushed against my senses through the aura I shared with him. He was cold.

    Before I could react, I felt the subtle shift in his energy. His little body began to warm itself, his natural heat attribute kicking in instinctively. A flicker of pride swelled in my chest. Even at his young age, Leon was learning to control his abilities, protecting himself in ways most children couldn¡¯t dream of.

    I walked over to his crib, crouching beside it and placing a hand gently on his chest. His warmth radiated against my palm, steady now, his breathing even. For a moment, I just watched him, his tiny fists curled under the blanket, his face serene. He didn¡¯t know about the dangers outside, the enemies we were hiding from.

    But someday, he would.

    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Leora needed to know the truth. Not just about what I used to do, but about what was coming. The world was shifting, and soon enough, it would reach us. When the time came, I would tell her everything.

    Until then, my only focus was keeping us safe.

    ¡°Hang in there, Leon,¡± I whispered, brushing a hand over his soft hair. ¡°Your mother and I will figure this out.¡±

    I took one last look at the crib. It would have to go. Borrowing Leon¡¯s heat attribute, I ignited the wood, watching as the flames consumed it. As the fire crackled, I reflected on the strangeness of my situation.

    The attribute theory didn¡¯t apply to me.

    For months, I had tried to discern what my aura was supposed to represent. Hunters and practitioners of aura all spoke of attributes¡ªthe defining themes or elements that their power revolved around. If Leon¡¯s aura carried the fiery essence of heat, then what about mine?

    Nothing.

    Every time I meditated, pushed my limits, or tapped into the well of energy coursing through me, I found the same thing: a faint, featureless aura. It wrapped around me like a second skin, barely perceptible and utterly without substance.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Most hunters spent years discovering their attributes. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for someone to go their entire life without understanding what their aura truly was. Yet, I couldn¡¯t shake the impatience that gnawed at me.

    Maybe it was because of how I¡¯d awakened my aura.

    In this world, aura awakening usually came through three means: luck, enlightenment, or talent. Mine had been different. It wasn¡¯t the result of a breakthrough or an epiphany. It wasn¡¯t a natural talent I¡¯d cultivated over time. My aura had been wrenched into existence through sheer desperation¡ªthrough a near-death experience that left me teetering on the edge of oblivion.

    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that was why I couldn¡¯t define my attribute.

    Hunters didn¡¯t need to manifest a specific ability to survive in this industry. Simply tapping into the extra boost aura provided¡ªstrength, speed, focus¡ªwas enough to be considered competent. In this era, even possessing aura at all was enough to earn you respect. But I knew the future.

    The standards would rise.

    As the world evolved, the hunters¡¯ bar would be raised. In the future I once thought of as fiction¡ªa future I had written into existence¡ªnearly every hunter would have an ability tied to their attribute. Those who didn¡¯t would fall behind, relics of a simpler time.

    According to the lore I¡¯d once crafted, aura always carried a theme, a purpose. Strength, speed, elemental manipulation, or even more abstract traits like focus or perception¡ªeveryone had something.

    And it frustrated me to no end I was lacking progress on learning my attributes.

    Months of testing myself, of experimenting and researching, had led to nothing. No flame, no strength, no sharpened focus. Just the faint, formless energy that clung to me like a shadow.

    And then there was Leon.

    Even as a baby, his attribute was obvious. The warmth that radiated from him, the instinctive way his body regulated its own temperature¡ªit was natural for him. Watching him, I felt a strange mixture of pride and envy. Whatever I lacked, Leon didn¡¯t.

    I stood in the dim light of the cave, watching him sleep in his crib. His tiny body shifted slightly, and a ripple of heat spread through the air, subtle but undeniable. It was as though his aura was alive, responding to his needs without conscious thought.

    He didn¡¯t have to struggle like I did. He didn¡¯t have to question or search for meaning. His attribute was as much a part of him as his heartbeat.

    I closed my eyes, focusing inward.

    I had done this exercise a thousand times before, reaching into the depths of my being, trying to grasp at something¡ªanything¡ªthat would give me a clue.

    There was nothing.

    The faint aura wrapped around me like a thin veil, offering no answers.

    ¡°Patience,¡± I muttered to myself, the word feeling hollow even as I said it.

    I knew I was being impatient. After all, most practitioners never fully understood their attributes. Many hunters didn¡¯t even bother to try, content with the basic enhancements aura provided. But I couldn¡¯t afford to settle for mediocrity. Not in this world.

    Leon stirred, his small hand twitching as he let out a soft whimper. A ripple of heat radiated from him, and I felt it brush against my own aura like a warm breeze.

    I crouched beside his crib, resting a hand on his chest. His warmth was steady now, his breathing even.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to be strong,¡± I whispered, my voice barely audible. ¡°Stronger than I ever was.¡±

    I wanted to believe that.

    Standing, I glanced at the faint glow of embers in the corner of the cave, remnants of the fire I¡¯d used to burn the last traces of our presence here. The crib would be next, along with anything else that could tie us to this place.

    As the days passed, I would keep searching for answers. Maybe I¡¯d find them, or maybe I wouldn¡¯t.

    But for now, it didn¡¯t matter.

    Leon had his attribute. That was enough.

    Leon¡¯s weight was a small but steady comfort against my chest as I slung him over one arm, my machete gripped firmly in the other. The blade caught the dim light filtering through the mouth of the cave, its faint gleam a silent promise of protection.

    The Mivah Mountains were unforgiving¡ªcold winds biting at exposed skin, rocky paths treacherous underfoot¡ªbut I¡¯d walked these trails long enough to know them by heart. Still, the knowledge brought little comfort. Our sanctuary, hidden deep within these peaks, was gone, reduced to ash and embers.

    I did that just to erase my tracks: amateur hour at its finest.

    It was time to leave.

    The cold stung, but my aura provided just enough warmth to stave off the worst of it. Leon stirred in his sleep, his tiny hand grasping at the fabric of my shirt. I glanced down at him, wondering for the thousandth time what kind of future he would inherit, especially with me meddling in it.

    The thought lingered as I began my descent.

    Aunt Marie had been invaluable in the past few weeks, helping me tie up loose ends. Her sharp tongue and sharper instincts had kept me grounded when my own paranoia threatened to spiral. With her help, I¡¯d packed the essentials: supplies, money, and the tools to stay one step ahead.

    After shaving off my beard and shedding my former identity, I¡¯d disposed of all my phones except one¡ªthe one Leora could reach me on. That single connection was a calculated risk, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

    Down the mountain, my second-hand car sat waiting, its faded paint and scratched exterior blending seamlessly into the mundane world. I tossed my backpack into the back seat and secured Leon in his car seat, ensuring he was snug and warm.

    The trunk held everything else: clothes, wigs, basic supplies, and a collection of items that could alter my appearance at a moment¡¯s notice. I caught my reflection in the side mirror as I adjusted the cheap wig I¡¯d slipped on. The fake tattoo I¡¯d drawn on my neck with a sharpie completed the transformation.

    The man staring back at me was unremarkable. Forgettable.

    The Mivah Mountains had served us well, but they couldn¡¯t shield us forever. The neutral cryptid sealed within these peaks had been our unknowing guardian, its natural aura-dispersing properties making it nearly impossible for anyone to track us. For two years, we¡¯d been invisible, hidden by the mountains¡¯ strange, protective energy.

    But Leon was changing.

    Even now, his aura was growing stronger, more distinct. It blended with nature effortlessly, but the day was coming when that wouldn¡¯t be enough. Someone would sense it¡ªan enemy, a hunter, or worse.

    The cryptid¡¯s protection couldn¡¯t mask us forever.

    I glanced back at Leon, his face peaceful as he slept. His aura, though subtle now, would one day blaze bright enough to catch the attention of every dangerous entity out there. That thought haunted me.

    Sliding into the driver¡¯s seat, I started the car. The engine sputtered before settling into a steady hum. For a moment, there was quiet¡ªa calm before the storm.

    The road stretched out before me, empty and silent. But I knew better than to trust the stillness. The real danger wasn¡¯t behind us anymore. It was ahead, waiting.

    As the miles rolled by, my thoughts drifted to Leora.

    Two weeks. March 17. That was the deadline I¡¯d set. By then, I¡¯d have to be ready¡ªfor her, for whatever came next.

    There was no turning back now.

    For two years, I¡¯d prepared for this. The supplies, the disguises, the contingency plans¡ªthey were all pieces of a puzzle that had taken far too long to assemble. And yet, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it wasn¡¯t enough.

    The road stretched endlessly into the horizon, a thin veil of silence draped over the world. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my eyes scanning the path ahead.

    Leon stirred in his seat, a soft murmur escaping his lips. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his tiny form barely visible under the blanket I¡¯d tucked around him.

    ¡°Hang in there, kid,¡± I muttered, more to myself than to him.

    The real fight hadn¡¯t even begun.

    ~009

 010 Shadows in the Hunt

    X

    I pulled the car to a stop outside a small roadside eatery, the kind of place that didn¡¯t draw much attention. The parking area was a chaotic mess¡ªvehicles scattered haphazardly across patches of grass or crammed along the edges of the road. Through the window, I spotted the eatery, a modest structure attached to what looked like a family¡¯s home.

    I parked at the far edge of the lot, away from the clutter. It meant more walking, but it also gave me a cleaner escape route if things went sideways. Taking no chances, I pocketed my keys, grabbed my wallet from the backpack, and gently unbuckled Leon from his car seat. He stirred as I lifted him into my arms but didn¡¯t wake.

    After double-checking that the car was locked, I slung the backpack over one shoulder and started toward the eatery. The smell of cooking meat and spices drifted on the air, mixing with the faint tang of gasoline from the nearby vehicles. Leon felt warm against me, his tiny face nestled into my jacket.

    The place wasn¡¯t much, but it was exactly what I needed¡ªsafe, unassuming, hidden in plain sight. No one would expect anything significant to happen here.

    The ground crunched under my boots as I walked toward the entrance, passing a couple of old pickup trucks and a dusty minivan. A few people sat on plastic chairs outside, eating quietly. They barely glanced in my direction.

    Good.

    I adjusted the wig, making sure it sat snugly on my head, and pushed open the door. The warm air inside carried an even stronger scent of food. A handful of tables were scattered around, most of them empty except for a group seated in the far corner.

    Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman, her hands busy wiping a stained apron. She glanced up briefly and gave me a polite smile, her gaze flicking back to her work almost immediately.

    Just another customer passing through.

    I approached the counter, Leon still cradled against my chest, his small hand clutching at my jacket.

    ¡°Just a meal,¡± I said, keeping my voice calm and low even though my thoughts raced. ¡°And something to drink.¡±

    The woman nodded absently, jotting down my order. ¡°Curry and rice? Maybe a soda?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll do.¡±

    She didn¡¯t ask any questions. People in places like this rarely did. It was one of the reasons I preferred them¡ªfewer prying eyes, fewer memories of my face to pass along if anyone came asking later.

    With Leon still in my arms, I found a seat in the far corner of the room. My back pressed against the wall, giving me a clear view of the entrance and anyone who might walk through it.

    Leon shifted slightly, his small hands curling into my shirt. His aura flickered faintly, reaching out in subtle waves. I could feel it responding to my own tension, instinctively attuned to the unease I tried to suppress.

    I smoothed his hair, holding him a little closer. My heartbeat thudded in my chest, steady but heavy. He didn¡¯t understand yet, but aura had its own language¡ªone that didn¡¯t need words, especially between family.

    As I waited, I let my eyes scan the room. The eatery was quiet, save for the soft murmur of conversation from the group in the corner and the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. It felt safe for now, but I didn¡¯t trust that feeling. Safety was an illusion, and I couldn¡¯t afford to let my guard down.

    Two weeks. That was all I had to get us to the next step. Two weeks to prepare for what came next.

    I adjusted Leon in my arms, watching the door, waiting.

    The smells of curry and freshly baked bread filled the small eatery, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of utensils. I glanced around the room, my eyes drifting from table to table. Families sat scattered, sharing quiet meals. A couple of truckers occupied a table near the back, heads down, focused on their plates. No one seemed out of place. No one looked my way.

    Still, the nagging feeling wouldn¡¯t leave, like the weight of a gaze I couldn¡¯t quite pinpoint.

    I told myself I was being paranoid.

    But paranoid was better than dead.

    I shifted my focus to Leon, his small face tucked against my chest, his eyes starting to flutter open. He let out a soft babble, his tiny hands reaching for my jacket. I forced a smile, even though my mind was still running through the exits and contingencies.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a quick stop, little guy,¡± I said softly. ¡°After this, we¡¯ll be on the road again. Just need to fuel up and keep moving. No one will even know we were here.¡±

    He babbled again, a sound too sweet and innocent for the life we were living. It grounded me, reminded me of why I was doing all this. Every risk, every sacrifice, was for him¡ªand for Leora. Nothing else mattered.

    Minutes passed. The air in the eatery was warm and filled with the quiet chatter of strangers. Leon¡¯s soft whimper pulled me from my thoughts. He was awake now, and I knew that sound all too well.

    Hungry.

    I reached into my jacket, pulling out a bottle of milk I¡¯d prepared earlier. His little hands grabbed it eagerly, and he started drinking, his new teeth gnawing at the nipple as he sucked. I¡¯d already noticed a small hole forming from all the chewing. Another thing to add to the list.

    The waitress approached, balancing a plate of steaming curry and rice in one hand and a basket of bread in the other. She set them down in front of me with practiced ease, flashing a polite smile.

    ¡°How old is he?¡± she asked suddenly, nodding toward Leon.

    I hesitated, wary of where this conversation might go. ¡°Two,¡± I replied.

    She laughed softly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sound like a Karen, though, well¡­ my name is Karen,¡± she said, rolling her eyes. ¡°But you might want to start weaning him off that bottle. Look at him go! He¡¯s adorable, but if he keeps it up, he might get a fixation. My eldest didn¡¯t give up his bottle until he was seven, and let me tell you, he was a handful. Always chewing on pens and picky with food.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked, not sure whether to take her advice or brush it off.

    ¡°Seriously. I¡¯ve got three kids. Trust me, you don¡¯t want that battle later.¡±

    I sighed, glancing down at Leon as he chugged away. He¡¯d been on solids for a few months now, but the bottle was still his comfort. I¡¯d tried to wean him off before, but the crying¡­ it wasn¡¯t worth it.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Karen smiled, hands on her hips. ¡°How about I hold him while you eat? Give you a break?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Thanks, but no. I wouldn¡¯t want to bother you.¡±

    ¡°Your loss,¡± she said with a shrug, heading back toward the counter.

    I tore off a small piece of bread, holding it out for Leon to nibble on between sips. This was my life now¡ªone hand feeding my kid, the other holding a spoon. It wasn¡¯t glamorous, but it was ours.

    I ate quickly, my eyes flicking back to the room between bites. The truckers were still hunched over their plates. The families were still immersed in their meals. Everything seemed normal, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it wouldn¡¯t stay that way.

    I nodded my thanks to Karen as she passed by again, but my focus remained split¡ªon Leon in my arms and the room around me. Always watching, always ready.

    Paranoid was better than dead.

    The aroma of curry filled the air as I tore into my meal, my focus divided between the plate in front of me and the muted football game playing on the TV mounted in the corner. Most of the other patrons were absorbed in their own worlds¡ªscrolling through their phones, chatting softly, or simply eating. The relaxed atmosphere almost felt normal. Almost.

    Then the game cut out.

    The screen flickered, replaced by the familiar red banner of a breaking news alert.

    ¡°Breaking News! A forest fire has erupted on the Mivah Mountains early this morning, at approximately nine o¡¯clock¡ª¡±

    My hand froze mid-bite, the fork suspended in the air.

    Mivah Mountains.

    The blood drained from my face.

    The fire wasn¡¯t mine. Sure, I¡¯d caused a controlled burn to cover our tracks, but I¡¯d been meticulous about keeping it contained. Only what needed to be burned was burned, and I¡¯d ensured there was no chance of residual flames spreading. This fire¡ªthis sprawling, destructive inferno reaching down the mountain¡¯s base¡ªwas something else entirely.

    There was only one explanation.

    Hunters.

    My pulse quickened, a cold dread settling in my chest. Trackers, more specifically. They were closing in, and fast. The precision and speed with which they¡¯d picked up my trail after two years of careful evasion were unsettling. I¡¯d been meticulous, staying under the radar, avoiding even the faintest hint of an aura signature. But now, their desperation¡ªor determination¡ªhad escalated.

    The forest fire wasn¡¯t just a tactic to flush us out. It was a message. A warning to other hunters: The chase is on. Probably claiming ¡®stake¡¯ on my head that I was their hunt.

    Competition for my capture¡ªor death¡ªhad begun.

    I forced my expression to stay neutral, glancing down at Leon. He was still happily munching on a piece of bread, blissfully unaware of the danger closing in on us. His innocence was both a comfort and a burden. I couldn¡¯t let him feel my fear, couldn¡¯t let him sense how badly I wanted to bolt out the door and run.

    No sudden moves. Not yet.

    I took a deep breath, focusing on the facts. Trackers. The most relentless kind of Seekers. They didn¡¯t need a big trail to find you¡ªjust a whiff of aura, a disturbed air current, or a trace of heat from your presence. They could piece together your location from clues so small you¡¯d never know you left them behind.

    The fact they were already combing the Mivah Mountains meant they were close. Too close.

    I shoved another forkful of curry into my mouth, forcing myself to eat quickly but not so quickly as to draw attention. The urgency pounded in my chest, but I kept my movements measured. When Karen returned with an off-brand soda, her usual nosiness was blessedly absent.

    I paid her for the meal, leaving a little extra as a tip. She smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

    Leon babbled as I scooped him up, his small arms wrapping around my neck. ¡°Come on, buddy,¡± I murmured, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. My boots crunched on the gravel as I made my way to the car, the weight of the news segment still pressing down on me.

    Once Leon was strapped securely into his seat, I slid into the driver¡¯s side and locked the doors, my fingers twitching against the button for good measure.

    The engine roared to life, and I pulled out of the lot, merging onto the highway. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds, scanning for anything unusual. No tail yet. But that didn¡¯t mean I could relax.

    The image of the fire played over and over in my mind¡ªthe timing, the scale, the sheer devastation. I hadn¡¯t stuck around to watch the full broadcast, but I didn¡¯t need to. It was recent. Immediate. A threat.

    I popped open the can of soda Karen had given me, chugged it down, and crushed it in my hand. The metallic crumple felt oddly satisfying as I chucked it out the window.

    I had to stay ahead. If they were close, I needed to widen the gap. If they were still behind, I had to put more distance between us.

    The only thing I couldn¡¯t do was stop.

    I gripped the wheel tighter, my jaw set. Every mile mattered now. Every second counted.

    I just had to keep moving.

    ¡­

    Several days later, I was still on the run.

    The dim light of the motel room cast long shadows across the walls as I sat on the edge of the bed, Leon cradled in my arms. His small, warm body pressed against mine, his breathing soft and even. The clock on the nightstand read 5:02 a.m., and outside, the world was still cloaked in darkness.

    Forty-eight hours. Two days until the meet-up with Leora. I repeated it like a mantra, clinging to the thought as if it could somehow anchor me. Just two more days.

    I hadn¡¯t planned on staying here long¡ªjust a few hours of sleep before hitting the road again. But as I passed through the motel¡¯s narrow hallways earlier, I saw them. Three figures standing near my car, their posture too stiff, their movements too deliberate. They weren¡¯t just loitering. They were studying the vehicle, and that was enough to set my nerves on edge.

    I should¡¯ve swapped cars by now. Changed the plates. Taken every precaution. But exhaustion and complacency had crept in, dulling my instincts. Now I was paying the price.

    Leon stirred in his sleep, a soft whimper escaping his lips. I held him closer, whispering a quiet reassurance he couldn¡¯t hear. My mind raced, calculating my next move.

    The car was compromised, which meant my options were limited. I couldn¡¯t risk a confrontation, not with Leon to think about. The hunters might not have confirmed I was here yet, but that window was closing fast.

    I glanced around the room, searching for anything I could use. My eyes landed on the motel phone. Picking it up, I dialed the front desk, keeping my voice calm and steady.

    ¡°Hi, this is room 909,¡± I said. ¡°I think I left my headlights on. Could you send someone to check?¡±

    The receptionist sounded groggy and confused but agreed. It wasn¡¯t much, but it might distract the hunters long enough for me to slip out.

    Hanging up, I adjusted Leon in my arms and grabbed my bag. The fire exit was my only option now.

    The metal steps of the fire escape creaked under my weight as I descended, each sound setting my teeth on edge. The narrow staircase wasn¡¯t made for someone carrying an infant, but I managed, moving as carefully as I could. When I reached the bottom, I found myself in a grimy alley, the air thick with the smell of rotting food and damp concrete.

    Leon stirred again, his aura flickering faintly. I tapped into our Soul Link, drawing on his energy. His warmth flowed into me, steadying my nerves and sharpening my senses. The faint threads of aura around us came into focus¡ªthe stray cats skulking near the trash bins, the rats darting through the shadows.

    I reached out, weaving their auras into mine. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to create a web of confusion. To a tracker, it would look like a chaotic mess of overlapping energy, too jumbled to decipher.

    I kicked one of the trash bins, sending it clattering loudly to the ground. The noise startled the strays, and they scattered in all directions, their auras flaring briefly before fading into the distance. It was a calculated move¡ªenough to muddy the waters for anyone trying to pinpoint our location.

    With the distraction in place, I compressed my own aura, pulling it tight and small until it was almost imperceptible. My Trickster Aura wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was effective. To anyone scanning for us, we¡¯d feel like just another mundane pair, indistinguishable from the background noise of the world.

    I moved through the alley, slow and deliberate, blending into the shadows. The hunters wouldn¡¯t expect me to circle back toward the motel, but that¡¯s exactly what I did. Hugging the walls, I kept my steps light and my presence minimal.

    Then I saw them.

    The three figures I¡¯d spotted earlier. They were hunters, no doubt about it. Their auras were sharp and distinct, each one radiating a different kind of power. The brute in the tank top was the most obvious, his energy raw and unrefined, like a hammer looking for something to smash. The other two were more cautious, their movements precise, their focus intense.

    But they didn¡¯t see me.

    ¡°Out of the way!¡± the brute barked, shoving past me without so much as a glance.

    I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest as they ran by, too fixated on the false trail I¡¯d left behind to notice the real target standing right there.

    It worked. They¡¯d taken the bait.

    I didn¡¯t let myself feel relief. Not yet. There was no telling how long the distraction would last, and I still had to figure out my next move.

    The motel loomed behind me, a reminder of my dwindling options. I needed a new plan. Fast.

    ~010

 011 Crossroads & Parting Paths

    XI

    The past few days blurred into a relentless haze of exhaustion. I¡¯d been driving almost nonstop, grabbing two hours of sleep every five hours, just enough to keep me functional. Coffee became my lifeline. I hated the bitter stuff, but it kept me awake, my nerves strung tight as a bow.

    Leon¡¯s cries punctuated the silence, breaking up the monotonous hum of the engine. Each time, I¡¯d pull over, feed him, change him, and then hit the road again. His little face was a constant reminder of why I was doing this, why I couldn¡¯t afford to slow down.

    Every rest stop was a gamble. I couldn¡¯t stay long, not with hunters potentially closing in. Trackers were persistent, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they caught onto the faint traces I couldn¡¯t fully erase. My paranoia was my greatest weapon now. I watched everything¡ªcars parked too long, strangers who lingered a second too many.

    Leon, though, was handling it better than I expected. He barely fussed despite the constant stops and starts, the restless nights. I hated that he was adapting to this life on the run. No child should have to live like this, always looking over their shoulder.

    The caffeine wasn¡¯t cutting it anymore. My body screamed for rest, but my mind refused to let go. I was too close to the meet-up with Leora. Just one more day. I reminded myself of that as I pulled into a shabby motel parking lot in some no-name town.

    I checked in under another fake name, carrying Leon close as I walked to the room. The place smelled faintly of mildew, the carpet threadbare under my boots. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would do.

    I set Leon down in the stroller I¡¯d brought from the car, then collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh. My body ached, my muscles stiff from days of tension and driving. I couldn¡¯t let my guard down, not entirely, but I needed rest. Tomorrow was too important to face at half-strength.

    That¡¯s when I activated the new trick I¡¯d been working on. A precaution.

    Soul Link had always been a tool for survival, but I¡¯d recently found a way to adapt it. Instead of tethering to another aura user or equalizing with stray animals, I cast the link out to mundanes¡ªordinary people in the area. They didn¡¯t even need to know.

    The beauty of it was its subtlety. There were no aura fluctuations, no detectable traces for hunters to pick up. The mundanes couldn¡¯t see aura, but through their eyes, my Soul Link could. If anyone dangerous came into range¡ªhunters, Seekers, anyone that matched my mental target¡ªI¡¯d know instantly.

    I cast the net within a fifty-meter radius, weaving it like a passive radar. The mundanes went about their lives, blissfully unaware of the tether, while I could rest a little easier knowing I¡¯d have a warning if trouble came too close.

    Leon had fallen asleep in his stroller, his soft breaths barely audible over the hum of the motel¡¯s heater. I glanced at him, my chest tightening. He¡¯d been such a champ through all of this, but I couldn¡¯t keep it up forever. Sooner or later, I¡¯d have to find a way to stop running, to give him a life where he could be safe.

    But that wasn¡¯t a problem for tonight. Tonight, I needed sleep.

    I closed my eyes, sinking into the lumpy mattress. For the first time in days, I let exhaustion win. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

    March 17. The day I¡¯d been counting down to for weeks had finally arrived.

    The drive toward Rumas City felt heavier than it should have, the road ahead weighed down by memories I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready to confront. By the time I parked near Downing Street, my palms were slick against the steering wheel. I texted Leora to confirm the time, my fingers lingering over the screen before I hit send.

    We¡¯d agreed to meet at Aluna Caf¨¦. The caf¨¦ where it all began.

    As I stepped inside, a wave of familiarity hit me like a punch to the gut. It was the same place, down to the cozy warmth and the soft hum of conversation. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air, just like it always had.

    I used to come here all the time, back when my second-hand laptop was my lifeline. I¡¯d hammer out web novels, freelance articles, anything that would pay the bills. Aluna Caf¨¦ had been my sanctuary, my creative haven in a world that didn¡¯t seem to care whether I sank or swam.

    But that was a lifetime ago. A different me, in a different world.

    My eyes scanned the room until they landed on her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that smile¡ªthe one that could stop my heart and leave me breathless, even now.

    Leora.

    She was sitting at the same table I used to work at, as if no time had passed. But it had. Years, in fact. Years that had changed everything about who we were and what we meant to each other.

    For a moment, I just stood there, staring. The memories came flooding back¡ªour first meeting, the awkwardness, the spark of something unspoken that grew into everything. This caf¨¦ had seen the start of it all.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    But this wasn¡¯t a reunion. This was a reckoning.

    I walked toward her, my heart pounding harder with every step. When I reached her table, she looked up, her blue eyes meeting mine. Her face was calm, but I could see the tension beneath the surface. I knew her too well to miss it.

    "Hey," I said, my voice softer than I¡¯d intended. After everything that had happened, it was the only word that felt right.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she replied, her voice just as soft. Her gaze searched mine, as if looking for something she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d find.

    I sat down across from her, shifting Leon in my arms. His small body stirred, his warmth grounding me as I held him closer. ¡°Hey, Leonard,¡± I said, my tone teasing but sharp. ¡°Look, it¡¯s your mom. The one who left us for two years and still counting. Maybe she doesn¡¯t love you anymore.¡±

    Leora¡¯s eyes widened, a flicker of hurt flashing across her face. ¡°Hey,¡± she protested softly, her voice carrying a note of wounded indignation. ¡°That¡¯s unfair.¡±

    I knew it was. But the weight of everything we¡¯d been through¡ªeverything I¡¯d caused¡ªsat heavy on my chest. There was so much I wanted to say, to yell, to accuse her of. But I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it. Deep down, I knew this wasn¡¯t all on her.

    After all, I was the one who¡¯d written the story this world was based on.

    The question that haunted me every day clawed at the edges of my mind. What came first? My novel? Or this world?

    The fear never left me. I was terrified for myself, for Leora, and most of all, for Leon. What kind of future could he have in a world filled with the traps and thorns I¡¯d woven into this story?

    "My bad," I muttered, trying to break the tension. "Do you want to hold him?"

    Her face softened immediately, and she nodded. ¡°Yes. Yes, I do,¡± she said, her voice trembling slightly.

    I handed Leon to her, watching as her hands trembled while she cradled him. The moment he was in her arms, her expression changed. The tension melted away, replaced by something raw and tender.

    Leon blinked up at her, his tiny hands reaching out to grab her blonde hair, tugging at it with curious little fists. His blue eyes, so much like hers, stared at her as if trying to piece together who she was.

    He didn¡¯t cry. He rarely cried these days. Life on the run had taught him to stay quiet, even as a toddler.

    Leora smiled, brushing a thumb across his cheek. ¡°You¡¯ve grown so much,¡± she whispered, her voice catching on the words. ¡°He¡¯s so beautiful.¡±

    "Yeah," I said quietly, watching the two of them. ¡°He gets that from you.¡±

    Leora looked up at me, her expression a storm of emotions I couldn¡¯t fully decipher. Guilt, love, maybe even relief. But her eyes were filled with unspoken questions¡ªthe ones she wouldn¡¯t voice but that hung heavy in the air. Where have you been? How are you? What have you been doing?

    I couldn¡¯t hold her gaze for long. I looked away, my hands tightening around Leon, who stirred slightly in my arms. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn¡¯t give her a simple answer. There wasn¡¯t one.

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    The words caught in my throat, tangled with the weight of everything unsaid.

    How could I explain the truth? That I was, in essence, the god of this world? That every detail, every twist of fate, every horror was something I had written into existence? The absurdity of it made my stomach churn. If I told her, she¡¯d either think I¡¯d gone insane or¡ªworse¡ªshe¡¯d believe me. And I wasn¡¯t sure which outcome terrified me more.

    Instead, I said something else. Something I hoped would soften the blow of what I was about to do.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to do something you¡¯re really going to hate,¡± I murmured.

    Before she could respond, I reached out and cupped her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. She flinched, just barely, but didn¡¯t pull away. Then I leaned in and kissed her. It was long, tender, and achingly familiar, a bittersweet echo of the day I first met her.

    Leora stiffened at first, then melted into the kiss. When I pulled back, her lips parted slightly as if to speak, but I cut her off with a half-hearted laugh.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to buy some milk,¡± I said with a grin, trying to inject humor into the moment. ¡°And I¡¯ll probably be gone for a while. But I¡¯ll try to come back as fast as I can.¡±

    Her brows furrowed, her confusion quickly morphing into suspicion. ¡°What are you talking about, Reynard?¡± she asked, her tone sharp.

    I sighed, the humor falling away. ¡°I hated the old arrangement. So here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do now. I¡¯ll handle the hunting, and you¡­¡± I gestured toward Leon, who was still in her arms. ¡°You do the baby thing. You¡¯re better connected, Leora. You¡¯ve got a stronger network than the one I scraped together these past two years. Leon will have a better life with you. You can give him everything I can¡¯t.¡±

    I stood, bracing myself for her reaction.

    Her eyes widened, anger flashing through them like lightning. ¡°Talk to me properly¡­ What are you doing?¡± Her voice trembled, teetering between frustration and disbelief.

    I didn¡¯t answer. Instead, I reached out with my ability, borrowing both her and Leon¡¯s auras. Leora didn¡¯t notice immediately, too focused on her growing outrage. I took Leon¡¯s life attribute, vital and pure, and combined it with Leora¡¯s speed attribute, enhancing my agility and endurance in a way I hadn¡¯t tried before.

    ¡°Until then, Leora,¡± I said softly, offering her a faint, apologetic smile.

    Before she could stop me, I activated the borrowed attributes, and in a blur of motion, I was gone. The caf¨¦ and the family I was leaving behind faded into the distance as I moved faster than Leora could follow, especially with Leon in her arms.

    A few minutes later, I stood on a rooftop miles away, the wind tugging at my jacket as I gazed toward the caf¨¦. From this distance, it was barely a speck on the horizon, but I could still feel their auras within me, faint and flickering as they slowly trickled away.

    ¡°Ah~ I¡¯ll probably regret this¡­¡± I muttered to myself. But not as much as I would if I let Leora stay on her current path.

    My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me. I didn¡¯t turn, already knowing who it was. Jacob, better known as Diamond_Black in the Hunter¡¯s Net, stepped out of the shadows.

    In one hand, he held a struggling hunter, the man¡¯s face pale with terror. Jacob¡¯s grip was unyielding, his movements precise and calculated.

    ¡°That¡¯s two out of three favors I owe you,¡± Jacob said casually, his voice as calm as if we were discussing the weather.

    Without hesitation, he flexed his wrist, and the hunter¡¯s neck snapped with a sickening crack. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

    I stared at the scene, my expression blank. Jacob¡¯s methods didn¡¯t faze me anymore. I¡¯d accumulated more favors than I could count¡ªfavors I¡¯d need to cash in soon.

    ¡°One more,¡± Jacob added, brushing his hands off. ¡°And we¡¯re square.¡±

    I nodded, my mind already racing ahead to the battles to come. Leora¡¯s network might¡¯ve been more established, built on years of experience as a hunter, but I had my own arsenal. Favors, information, and debts owed to me would be just as powerful.

    The war wasn¡¯t far off now. And I intended to win.

    ~011

 012 Butterfly Wings

    XII

    Jacob vanished into the shadows, leaving only the dead hunter sprawled at my feet. His departure was seamless as if he had never been there at all. The cold wind gnawed at my face, but it couldn¡¯t match the guilt settling in my chest. What I¡¯d done¡ªthe way I¡¯d lied to Leora¡ªwas completely out of character for me.

    She would never understand, and I hated myself for deceiving her.

    But what choice did I have?

    Leora was better equipped to protect Leon. She had the resources, the connections, and the strength to ensure his safety. If something happened to me¡ªif I died fighting this war¡ªI didn¡¯t want my son to witness it. No child should go through that trauma, especially not Leon.

    I¡¯d rather be a dead stranger to him than a dead father.

    I knelt beside the hunter¡¯s lifeless body, flipping him over with one swift motion. His face was frozen in terror, his wide eyes staring at nothing. His limp form sagged as I grabbed his jaw and pulled his lower lip down.

    There it was: serial numbers etched into the skin.

    ¡°It¡¯s definitely them,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    The Elsewhere Cult.

    They had finally made their move, sending one of their personal hunters to track Leon down. This wasn¡¯t just a random group of zealots¡ªthese people were organized, relentless, and far more dangerous than most hunters in this world. Their influence stretched farther than most realized, their methods as brutal as they were effective. They wouldn¡¯t stop until they had Leon.

    But I wasn¡¯t going to let that happen.

    The Elsewhere Cult wasn¡¯t just another power-hungry organization. They were something worse, something darker. These lunatics worshipped the Forbidden Regions¡ªthe twisted places no sane person would dare enter. As if that wasn¡¯t bad enough, they offered human sacrifices to Outer Gods, entities that should never have existed in this world.

    And their initiation ritual? That was the worst part.

    To join, recruits had to survive a journey to one of the nightmare realities they accessed. These ¡°isekai¡± realms weren¡¯t the fantasy adventures people dreamed of. They were twisted, cruel places where survival was nearly impossible. Those who returned were forever changed, broken and scarred. And those who didn¡¯t? Forgotten.

    I couldn¡¯t believe I had written these monsters into existence. What kind of messed-up part of me thought this would make a compelling story?

    And now they were after Leon.

    The reason was simple: prophecy. The cult had a Reader-type among them, someone capable of eerily accurate predictions. That Reader had foretold that Leon, my son, would one day bring about their destruction. Every last one of them, wiped from existence because of him. So they hunted him, desperate to erase that future before it could come to pass.

    I rifled through the dead hunter¡¯s pockets, searching for anything useful. Money, identification¡ªanything that could give me an edge. I found a small, encrypted device, likely a communicator. I¡¯d crack it open later. There was also a folded piece of paper with coordinates scrawled across it.

    That was worrying.

    I stuffed everything into my jacket and rose to my feet.

    Using the combined speed and life attributes I¡¯d borrowed from Leora and Leon, I dashed through the streets. The world blurred around me, my heart pounding in my chest. I had no time to waste. If the cult had tracked Leon this far, they¡¯d send more hunters soon. Even with my aura concealed, they had ways to sniff us out.

    Assassinating their prophet was my only real chance.

    The cult itself was too vast and powerful to dismantle with the resources I had. But their prophet? Without them, the cult¡¯s ability to track people would be crippled. It would buy Leora and Leon the time they needed to disappear.

    The borrowed aura began to fade just as I spotted the open doors of a train ahead. Perfect. I slowed down, careful not to draw attention, and slipped inside, blending into the crowd of early morning commuters. I took a seat near the back, keeping my head low.

    A few hours later, I stepped off the train in another city entirely.

    Finding a quiet spot near the station¡ªa shaded bench tucked away under a few trees¡ªI pulled out the piece of paper I¡¯d looted from the hunter. My eyes scanned the hastily written coordinates. A location for their next meeting, set for three days from now.

    Excellent.

    If I played this right, I could make them think I¡¯d be there. But that was only half the plan. I couldn¡¯t just let them regroup and continue hunting my family. I needed to hit them where it hurt.

    First, I had to keep them distracted. Keep them chasing shadows.

    I hopped onto another train heading in a different direction. As the city blurred past me once again, I began formulating my next steps. I needed to create enough chaos to keep the cult off balance, but not so much that they¡¯d catch on to my real plan.

    The safehouse was exactly as I wanted it¡ªan isolated apartment on the city¡¯s edge, surrounded by abandoned warehouses and the faint hum of distant machinery. Its nondescript exterior belied the purpose it served: a fortress of solitude and preparation.

    Dragging the giant hammer I¡¯d picked up at the hardware store, I stepped inside. The place was sparse, the walls bare save for a few cracks and faded graffiti. A smiley face sprayed in yellow paint grinned from the corner of the room, a silent witness to what was about to unfold.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    I gripped the hammer tightly, channeling my Fighter Aura into the swing. The impact cracked the concrete floor, sending shards and dust scattering. Beneath the rubble, the edges of a hidden chest gleamed faintly in the dim light.

    I knelt, prying the chest open. Inside lay the tools I needed: a sturdy laptop, a cache of food rations, water bottles, and a small arsenal of supplies. It was a stash I¡¯d prepared for moments like this, when plans had to be made and action was inevitable.

    Setting the laptop on a makeshift table, I powered it up. The screen flickered to life, casting a cold glow over the room. It was time to get to work.

    Hours slipped by as I scoured my network of contacts, cross-referencing names and reputations. The Hunters I owed¡ªor who owed me¡ªwere scattered across the city, each with unique skills that could prove invaluable in the coming fight against the Elsewhere Cult.

    The list came together slowly, but surely. A tracker with unparalleled instincts. A combat specialist known for taking down high-value targets. A tech expert who could crack the most secure systems. By the time I finished, I had a roster of individuals who could help me tip the scales.

    The next phase was planning. I pulled up blueprints of the cult¡¯s suspected venue, overlaying escape routes and potential weak points. Every detail mattered: entry points, guard rotations, possible traps. I scribbled notes, adjusted angles, and simulated scenarios until the strategy began to take shape.

    The chest¡¯s contents kept me going through the night¡ªenergy drinks, protein bars, and water bottles fueling my body as my mind raced. When I finally leaned back in my chair, the rough blueprint of my plan stared back at me. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was a start.

    I wasn¡¯t done yet. Training came next. My Fighter Aura burned within me, a steady pulse of power waiting to be refined. I focused on control, pushing the aura to its limits, shaping it into precise forms and patterns. Each session left me drenched in sweat, muscles aching from exertion.

    When exhaustion finally overtook me, I allowed myself a short nap on the floor. The cold concrete was far from comfortable, but it didn¡¯t matter. I had no time for luxury¡ªnot with the stakes this high.

    The cycle repeated itself: work on the plan, refine the aura, rest, and repeat. With each iteration, my strategy grew sharper, my aura control more refined. This was the calm before the storm, and I intended to use every second to ensure that when the storm broke, I would be ready.

    Three days might not seem like much, but when every second was a battlefield, 72 hours stretched into an eternity. With power naps strategically placed every 20 hours, I pushed myself to the brink, then dragged myself back.

    The grind continued. My aura was more than a mystical force¡ªit was an organ, complex and layered, its intricacies unfolding with each deliberate effort. Conceptually, aura divided into three distinct parts:

    <ol>

    <li>Corona: The outermost layer of aura, the gateway to the Seven States. Fighter, Seeker, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader¡ªthese weren¡¯t mere processes but intrinsic states of being. When the Corona activated, it felt as though the world tilted slightly in your favor, bending to your will. My Corona was as refined as I could make it.</li>

    <li>Ectoplasm: The middle layer, the shell encasing the host¡¯s vessel. This was where Arcana Attributes¡ªfire, water, speed, strength, and more¡ªtook form. Theoretically, their variations were infinite, shaped by individuality and imagination. Yet for me, my attributes remained dormant, locked away as if by an invisible chain.</li>

    <li>Soul: The innermost core, the heart of it all. The Soul didn¡¯t merely generate aura¡ªit defined identity. It was the bedrock of existence, binding together one¡¯s history, emotions, and potential.</li>

    </ol>

    My Corona was sharp, and my Ectoplasm stubbornly silent. That left the Soul.

    I sat cross-legged on the floor of the safehouse, the dim light of the room flickering faintly against the cracked walls. My breathing slowed, steady and deliberate, as I turned my focus inward. Meditation wasn¡¯t just a tool¡ªit was a crucible, a way to forge the abstract into something tangible.

    The key to unlocking aura¡¯s potential wasn¡¯t in brute force or technical skill. It was in understanding the Theme that shaped it, the concept that resonated at the core of the Soul. For me, that meant asking the hard questions.

    Was this life worth it?

    Could I give up this world if I had a way home?

    Did I have the strength to endure pain for the sake of those I loved?

    The answers weren¡¯t simple.

    I wasn¡¯t from this world. That truth clung to me like a second skin, no matter how much I tried to adapt. Back home, I¡¯d loved writing stories, weaving worlds and characters together like threads in a tapestry. I hated pain¡ªwho didn¡¯t?¡ªbut I knew I could endure it for the sake of those I cared for.

    I missed home. I hated being alone.

    That was why I¡¯d fallen in love with writing webnovels in particular. Through them, I connected with others, shared pieces of myself with strangers who, for a moment, understood me. In a way, that explained the nature of my Soul Link, the bond that tied me to others.

    As I meditated, I tried to weave these truths together, binding them into a single, cohesive whole. The Soul wasn¡¯t just where aura was born¡ªit was the essence of who I was. To unlock its full potential, I needed to accept that essence, to let it define not just my abilities but my path forward.

    The hours bled together as I delved deeper into my thoughts, shaping and refining my understanding of myself. The process was exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, but it was necessary.

    By the time I opened my eyes, the dim light of the safehouse had softened, signaling the approach of dawn. My body ached, my mind felt like it had been wrung dry, but something inside me had shifted.

    This wasn¡¯t just preparation. This was evolution.

    And I wasn¡¯t done yet.

    Little motes of blue light swirled around me, delicate as whispers. They formed thin threads that began to orbit, weaving intricate patterns in the air. The glow pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat, as if responding to my thoughts.

    Then, with a sudden flicker, the threads dispersed, unraveling in an instant. From the ends of the scattered light emerged two ethereal butterflies, their wings shimmering with hues of azure and silver. They fluttered gently, leaving faint trails of light in their wake, as if tracing invisible paths in the room.

    I stared, entranced, as they circled me, their movements seemingly chaotic yet oddly purposeful.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible in the quiet room. ¡°That¡¯s my theme? A Butterfly Effect?¡±

    The words felt foreign on my tongue, yet they resonated deep within me.

    The butterflies moved closer, one brushing past my cheek, its touch like a soft breeze. The other hovered near my hand, as though waiting for something. My instincts told me to reach out, and when I did, the butterfly perched lightly on my finger.

    It wasn¡¯t just a theme. It was a metaphor¡ªa symbol of my existence in this world. The small, seemingly insignificant actions I took could ripple outward, creating waves far beyond what I could imagine. It wasn¡¯t just power; it was responsibility.

    I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The realization hit me like a wave.

    The Butterfly Effect wasn¡¯t just about change¡ªit was about control. To wield it, I needed to master every detail, every choice, every nuance of my aura. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and the consequences could spiral out of control.

    I focused on the butterflies again, their delicate forms pulsing with faint energy. They were fragments of my soul, manifestations of the innermost layer of my aura. My mind raced, piecing together what this meant for my abilities.

    ¡°Subtlety,¡± I whispered. ¡°Precision.¡±

    That¡¯s what this power demanded. It wasn¡¯t about brute force or overwhelming strength. It was about understanding the connections between things, the invisible threads that tied everything together.

    The butterflies began to dissolve, their forms scattering into motes of light once more. As they faded, I felt a shift within me¡ªa new sense of clarity, as if a door I hadn¡¯t even known existed had just opened.

    I exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from my body. The discovery of my theme was a milestone, but it was only the beginning.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see how far these wings can carry me.¡±

    ~012

 013 A Debt Paid in Blood

    XIII

    The weight of the concealed handgun against my belt was a cold reminder of what I was walking into. Hunters were human, just like me. A bullet to the head would kill them as easily as anyone else. I adjusted my hood, pulling it lower to hide my face as I moved through the dimly lit streets.

    The Elsewhere Cult wasn¡¯t a massive organization, but what they lacked in numbers, they made up for in influence and power. They thrived in the shadows, stepping into the light only when it suited them. In the novel, they had been designed as recurring villains, with their enigmatic leader, the Prophet, at the center of several arcs.

    Taking down the Prophet was a long-term goal, but for now, I needed to focus on creating distractions, sowing chaos, and throwing them off my trail. Despite my meta-knowledge, information about their inner workings was frustratingly scarce.

    The cult¡¯s structure, as I remembered, was split into three tiers: leadership, priesthood, and followers. The followers were mostly wealthy elites¡ªpeople who had bought their way in without undergoing the full initiation. Pawns, essentially. The priesthood, however, was another matter entirely. These were survivors of alternate nightmare realities, returned with powers that defied reason. Each priest was a living weapon, their aura honed by unimaginable horrors.

    I navigated a series of narrow alleys, the damp chill biting through my jacket. After a few twists and turns, I reached a steel door marked only by faint scratches around the frame. This was the place.

    Knocking twice, I waited. A small peephole slid open, and glowing, aura-infused eyes peered out at me.

    "Come in," a gravelly voice said from behind the door.

    I stepped inside, immediately struck by the shift in atmosphere. The alley outside had been grim, reeking of decay, but this place buzzed with life and danger. It was a Hunter-affiliated club, hidden behind layers of secrecy and urban decay.

    The room was dimly lit, alive with quiet energy. Hunters clustered in groups, their voices low as they exchanged intel, negotiated jobs, or shared drinks. The walls were lined with weapons¡ªblades, firearms, and strange artifacts whose functions I could only guess at. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, a reminder that this was a place for killers, not civilians.

    I made my way to the bar, keeping my movements calm and deliberate. The bartender, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, glanced up as I approached.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to meet people,¡± I said, my voice low. ¡°Room 2022. Password: Never been a better time to cash in favors.¡±

    He gave me a slow once-over before nodding. ¡°Straight ahead, turn left, and you¡¯ll see your room.¡±

    ¡°How many are they?¡± I asked, sliding a small ruby across the counter. In the hunter world, cash was too easy to trace. Transactions were usually done in hunter-approved gold coins or gemstones.

    The bartender pocketed the gem without hesitation. ¡°Four,¡± he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Four. That was good. It meant every single person I¡¯d contacted had shown up. I nodded and headed toward the hallway, my mind already racing.

    The Meeting

    The hallway was dimly lit, the hum of distant conversations fading behind me. My footsteps were steady, measured, but my pulse quickened with every step. This wasn¡¯t just a meeting¡ªit was the first step in taking the fight to the Elsewhere Cult.

    I turned left, as instructed, and stopped in front of a reinforced door. Knocking twice, I waited. The door creaked open, and I stepped inside.

    The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single table at the center. Four figures sat around it, their faces partially obscured by the dim light. But I recognized them all¡ªnames, reputations, and skills burned into my memory.

    These weren¡¯t just ordinary hunters. Each of them had carved out a place in the hunter world, for better or worse. And each of them owed me.

    ¡°Good to see you all,¡± I said, closing the door behind me.

    Their eyes were on me, some curious, others guarded. They knew I wouldn¡¯t have called them here without good reason.

    ¡°It is of my utmost pleasure to see all of you gathered here,¡± I said, taking a stock at the four people sitting around the table. ¡°My name is Reynard. The Author. Please call me Rey.¡±

    The room was dim, the air thick with a tension that only hunters could exude. I studied  the four figures seated around the round table. Each one carried an air of confidence, a sharp edge that came from living life on the brink. These weren¡¯t just hunters¡ªthey were my creations. Characters I had written long before this world became real, now flesh and blood, sitting in front of me.

    Rory Christen was the first I recognized. Petite, with brown hair and a smattering of freckles, she wore a simple one-piece dress that belied her lethal nature. Rory was a Seeker-type and Herb Hunter, her Special Ability, Poison Cook, allowing her to craft deadly toxins disguised as harmless meals. She owed me two favors, and I intended to collect both tonight.Stolen story; please report.

    Next was Grue, a figure as intimidating as his reputation. His helm obscured most of his face, and his leather jacket clung to his lean frame. A Trickster-type and Bounty Hunter, Grue was a Torturer sub-type with the Special Ability Predation. Once he marked a target, he became invisible to them, stalking them relentlessly. When he killed, he absorbed their aura, healing and growing stronger. Grue owed me five favors¡ªthe highest debt of anyone here.

    Carlyle Ferns sat straight-backed, his crisp blue suit and polished demeanor more fitting for a boardroom than a hunter¡¯s den. With blonde hair and green eyes, he looked like a picture of elegance. But beneath the charm lay a deadly Caster-type with the Special Ability Force Wall, capable of summoning nearly immovable barriers. Carlyle was a Treasure Hunter, a man who used his charisma to outmaneuver enemies and claim rewards. He owed me one favor, but I knew it would count.

    Finally, there was Henry O. Notch. Tall and lanky, his bald head gleamed under the faint light, the scar along his chin a testament to a hard life. He wore a t-shirt and shorts, looking more like a jogger than a hunter. A Speedster sub-type and Maker-type, his Special Ability Super Boots allowed him to move at incredible speeds, run up walls, and ricochet off surfaces like a human pinball. He owed me one favor, and I had a feeling his agility would be critical.

    I moved to the table, the only unoccupied seat waiting for me. As I sat, their eyes locked on me, assessing, calculating. They weren¡¯t here because they liked me¡ªthey were here because they owed me. And that was enough.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said, leaning forward, my hands clasped together. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    The room was silent except for the faint hum of an overhead light. My gaze swept over them, lingering briefly on each face. These were my tools, my weapons, and my gamble against the Elsewhere Cult.

    Rory was the first to break the silence. Her green eyes glinted as she leaned back, arms crossed. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect the Author to look like this,¡± she said with a smirk. ¡°Handsome fella.¡±

    I tugged my hood down, revealing my face fully. ¡°Call me Rey,¡± I replied flatly, brushing off her teasing. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for flattery. We¡¯ve got a job to do.¡±

    Her grin widened, but she said nothing more.

    I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table. ¡°You all know why you¡¯re here. I¡¯m calling in your favors. The Elsewhere Cult has gone too far, and it¡¯s time we took them down a notch. Each of you has a skill set I need, and together, we can make this work.¡±

    Grue¡¯s voice was low and gravelly as he spoke. ¡°You want us to go after a cult?¡± There was a hint of disbelief in his tone. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s personal.¡±

    Carlyle raised an eyebrow, his fingers tapping against the head of his cane. ¡°Personal enough to call in all our debts? You¡¯ve been careful about those favors until now.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about me. The Elsewhere Cult is after my son.¡±

    The room fell silent. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Rory let out a low whistle.

    ¡°Well, shit,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a reason.¡±

    Henry who had been quiet until now spoke up. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    I pulled a folded map from my jacket and spread it out on the table. ¡°This is their next known meeting point. It¡¯s heavily guarded, but it¡¯s not impenetrable. Rory, I¡¯ll need your poisons to deal with the guards discreetly. Grue, you¡¯ll mark the Prophet and make sure he doesn¡¯t see you coming. Carlyle, I¡¯ll need barriers to block their reinforcements. And Henry¡ªyour speed will be key for delivering intel and disrupting their defenses.¡±

    I looked at each of them, meeting their eyes. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be easy, but if we pull it off, we can cripple their operations and send a message they won¡¯t forget.¡±

    Grue chuckled darkly. ¡°Sounds like fun.¡±

    Carlyle leaned back in his chair, the soft tap-tap of his cane against the floor was irritating. His green eyes narrowed, appraising me with that calculating look I¡¯d grown accustomed to. "So," he said, his voice smooth and measured, "what¡¯s the job about? Details?"

    I took a deep breath, meeting each of their gazes in turn. Rory¡¯s playful smirk, Grue¡¯s predatory stillness, Carlyle¡¯s detached interest, and Henry¡¯s quiet intensity¡ªthey were all watching, waiting.

    ¡°There¡¯s a gala tonight,¡± I began, my voice steady. ¡°It starts at 8 PM. It¡¯ll be crawling with high-profile individuals, including members of the Elsewhere Cult. My goal is simple: I¡¯m going to kill them all.¡±

    The room fell silent. Rory¡¯s smirk vanished, replaced by a serious expression as she leaned forward slightly. Grue¡¯s posture shifted, the tension in his frame unmistakable. Carlyle¡¯s fingers drummed a soft rhythm on the table, and Henry tilted his head, his face unreadable.

    ¡°You¡¯re free to back out,¡± I continued, letting the weight of my words settle over them. ¡°But if you do, know this: your reputation will be tarnished. In our world, a favor left unpaid is worse than any enemy. It marks you as unreliable, and that¡¯s a death sentence for people like us.¡±

    Rory glanced at the others, gauging their reactions before speaking. ¡°So, we¡¯re talking a full-scale massacre, or are we targeting specific individuals?¡±

    ¡°Specific targets,¡± I clarified. ¡°But it¡¯s going to get messy. Once we start, there¡¯s no turning back. The goal is to force the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s attention onto me, make them see me as their biggest threat. I¡¯ll go in first and draw the fire. You support as needed, but no one leaves until the job is done.¡±

    Grue cracked his knuckles, his voice low and almost eager. ¡°Sounds like my kind of fun. Who¡¯s the first to die?¡±

    I leaned forward, placing my hands flat on the table. ¡°The Prophet¡¯s right-hand priest is rumored to be attending. He¡¯s the priority. After that, we¡¯ll take down any other cult members present. They¡¯ll be disguised among the guests, but we¡¯ll know them.¡±

    Carlyle raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. ¡°And how exactly do we pick them out in a room full of elites?¡±

    I allowed myself a small, grim smile. ¡°I¡¯ve already set a trap. The gala¡¯s organizer received a gift¡ªa cursed artifact I slipped into their hands through a mutual contact. The cult won¡¯t be able to resist inspecting it. That¡¯s our marker.¡±

    Rory nodded, leaning back in her chair. ¡°Alright, Rey. I¡¯m in. Just tell me where to stand when the poison starts flowing.¡±

    Grue chuckled, his gloved hands flexing. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the ones that try to run.¡±

    Carlyle sighed, shaking his head but not hiding the faint amusement in his voice. ¡°Guess there¡¯s no turning back now. I¡¯ll handle crowd control.¡±

    Henry adjusted his boots, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn¡¯t say a word, but the gleam in his eyes told me he was ready.

    I stood, pulling my hood back over my head. ¡°Good. Meet me at the west entrance of the gala at seven. We¡¯ll go over the final details then. Remember: once we start, we don¡¯t stop. This isn¡¯t just about survival¡ªit¡¯s about sending a message.¡±

    The room remained silent as I turned and walked toward the door.

    ~013

 014 Uncertain Alliances

    XIV

    Carlyle tapped his cane sharply against the wooden floor, the crisp sound cutting through the quiet murmurs in the room. His green eyes swept over the others, measuring their reactions. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice calm yet probing. "Is it worth a single favor?"

    Rory crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. "Of course not. He¡¯s asking us to kill hunters in a public setting. That¡¯s why he promised me he¡¯d count it as two favors." Her voice carried an edge, but her honesty was well-known among hunters¡ªa rare trait in their cutthroat world.

    Carlyle regarded her with a slight nod. Rory was straightforward, almost refreshingly so. Her usual work involved selling rare herbs and poisons, not taking on direct assignments like this. The fact that she was here in person was surprising, but then again, this wasn¡¯t an ordinary job.

    Grue leaned back in his chair, his leather jacket creaking with the motion. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Same deal for me. Two favors." His tone was casual, but Carlyle didn¡¯t miss the hint of interest in his tone of voice. Grue wasn¡¯t the type to shy away from danger¡ªhe thrived on it.

    Henry chuckled, cracking his knuckles as a small grin spread across his face. "I only owe the guy one favor. If I do this, he¡¯ll owe me." His enthusiasm was almost contagious, though Carlyle suspected Henry enjoyed the thrill of danger more than he let on.

    Carlyle tapped his cane thoughtfully, considering his own position. "Same here. One favor owed, no sweetened deal. Though I have to admit, I¡¯m curious why he didn¡¯t try to offer me more."

    "Maybe you pissed him off," Rory quipped, smirking as she seized the opportunity to needle him.

    Carlyle straightened his crisp blue suit, huffing lightly. "Doubt it. He¡¯s too focused on this mission to hold grudges. Besides, he needs me." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. "Still, this job¡­ it¡¯s big. If we¡¯re going to take it, we¡¯d better be sure it¡¯s worth the risk."

    A faint buzz interrupted their conversation. Carlyle reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as the others did the same. A detailed file had arrived¡ªa plan meticulously laid out by Rey.

    Rory let out a low whistle as she scanned the document. "Three confirmed hunters and a few unnamed possibles. Hmm¡­ looks like we¡¯ll need disguises. I¡¯ll be a waitress." She smirked, already picturing her role.

    Henry snorted. "And I¡¯m a valet. Guess I¡¯ll kill anyone trying to bolt."

    Grue said nothing, his eyes methodically combing through the plan. His silence spoke volumes¡ªhe was in.

    Carlyle studied the plan, appreciating the layers of strategy Rey had put into it. Every detail was accounted for, from the timing of their entry to their exit routes. He closed his phone with a quiet snap, addressing the room. "I see why my role only counts as one favor now. No direct risk." He tapped his cane lightly against the floor. "I¡¯ll be on the floor below the gala, blocking exits. Simple, clean. My disguise? A businessman staying at the hotel."

    Rory beamed as she tucked her phone away. "Thankfully, I won¡¯t be doing any killing. Just lacing the food with sleeping agents¡ªenough to knock out even hunters."

    Carlyle¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile, though he made a mental note to tread carefully around her. Poison users like Rory didn¡¯t need brute strength to be deadly.

    Grue finally spoke, his voice steady and cold. "Once everyone¡¯s out, the Author will handle the killing himself. I¡¯m just here to watch his back."

    Henry let out a low whistle, his eyebrows shooting up. "Oh, shit. It is personal, isn¡¯t it?"

    Carlyle didn¡¯t respond, but he couldn¡¯t deny it. The plan, the precision¡ªit all pointed to something deeply personal for Rey. The Author said so himself that it was personal.

    Rey, or "The Author" as he was known in the hunter world, had built a reputation over the past two years as an unparalleled information broker. He never dealt in money, only in favors or information of equal or greater value. Carlyle had initially found the title "Author" arrogant, but now, seeing how Rey orchestrated this operation, he understood.

    This wasn¡¯t just about fulfilling favors. This was about sending a message to the Elsewhere Cult¡ªa message written in blood.

    Carlyle sighed¡­ and then asked the question that had been bothering him.

    ¡°What do you think his aura type is?¡±

    Grue let out a soft grunt, his tone clipped but not unkind. ¡°You do know, as professionals, we shouldn¡¯t pry into our client¡¯s personal affairs, right?¡±

    Henry smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. ¡°Oh, come on, Grue. You¡¯re not the least bit curious? My bet¡¯s on Reader. Makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Carlyle considered Henry¡¯s suggestion, nodding slightly. A Reader did seem plausible. Rey¡¯s ability to anticipate moves, manipulate events, and gather information with precision hinted at a high-level Reader ability. He tapped his cane thoughtfully, his mind piecing together the puzzle. ¡°Yes, a Reader fits. Someone with a rare or specialized power, especially one that allows for such strategic insight... it aligns with everything we¡¯ve seen so far.¡±

    He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. ¡°And that name, ¡®Author,¡¯ it¡¯s starting to make sense. He sees the world as a story¡ªits events, its players. He doesn¡¯t just live in it; he writes it. And right now, we¡¯re part of his latest chapter.¡±

    The others exchanged glances, sensing the weight of Carlyle¡¯s words. For someone like Rey, the job they were on wasn¡¯t just another mission. It was a calculated move in a much larger game.

    Or maybe¡­ they were just misunderstanding things¡­

    Carlyle didn¡¯t mind being a piece on the board¡ªnot as long as his favor was paid in full by the end of the night. Still, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this wouldn¡¯t be the last time Rey pulled them into his orbit.

    He shifted the conversation. ¡°Anyone heard of the name ¡®Elsewhere Cult¡¯?¡± His brow furrowed, frustration evident in his voice. ¡°No matter what, I can¡¯t find anything on them. That¡¯s rare for me, and I¡¯ve got a lot of friends. Before coming here, I¡¯ve done my research on them and I got nothing.¡±

    Henry shook his head, his expression unconcerned. ¡°Never really tried, but yeah, I¡¯ve got nothing.¡±

    Grue leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed as he spoke. ¡°I took a job for them once, but it never panned out. Private bounty on Leora the Bright.¡±

    Carlyle raised an eyebrow. ¡°I thought she was retired.¡±

    ¡°She is,¡± Grue replied, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. ¡°But the job was stolen from me.¡±

    Henry snorted. ¡°Let me guess, the Undead Troupe?¡±

    At the mention of the name, Grue¡¯s aura darkened, and his voice dropped. ¡°Yeah. They took the job and then tried to recruit me. Gave them the middle finger, but they didn¡¯t take it well. Had to run their gauntlet, and I barely made it out alive.¡±

    Carlyle¡¯s eyes narrowed. The Undead Troupe had been making waves recently, their notoriety almost rivaling Rey¡¯s. ¡°So we pretty much know nothing about the Elsewhere Cult?¡± he concluded, his tone resigned.

    Rory, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, chimed in. ¡°Sounds like the kind of group that works in the shadows, pulling strings where no one can see. Probably by design.¡±

    Carlyle tapped his cane against the floor, his thoughts racing. A group so secretive that even his extensive network couldn¡¯t crack it? That was troubling. And if Rey had a grudge against them¡­

    The rhythmic tapping of his cane filled the silence as Carlyle considered the implications. This wasn¡¯t going to be a one-off job.

    Henry broke the quiet first, shrugging casually. ¡°As long as we¡¯re not killing mundanes, I¡¯m fine with it.¡±

    Rory grinned, teasing him. ¡°Oooh, a hunter with a code. Don¡¯t worry, they¡¯ll probably be asleep by the time the killing starts. But if a fight breaks out, I can¡¯t make any promises. I¡¯m just a lowly herbalist, after all.¡±

    Grue cracked his knuckles, his voice low and deliberate. ¡°If a fight starts, I¡¯ll aim to kill in one blow. No loose ends.¡±

    Carlyle studied Grue for a moment, his expression unreadable. There was no doubt the man could back up his words. Grue wasn¡¯t one for theatrics¡ªhe got the job done, no matter the cost.

    The idea of taking out hunters didn¡¯t sit well with Carlyle. They were skilled, dangerous, and not so different from themselves. But favors were favors.

    Carlyle stood, adjusting his suit and gripping his cane tightly. ¡°If things go sideways, don¡¯t expect me to stick around for cleanup. I¡¯ll have the barriers up as fast as I can, but once they¡¯re in place, I¡¯m out.¡±

    Rory stretched her arms lazily over her head, her demeanor far more relaxed than the situation warranted. ¡°Fine by me. I just hope Rey doesn¡¯t get too trigger-happy. Poison¡¯s no fun when someone messes up my timing.¡±

    Henry chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. ¡°As long as the sleeping agents work, you won¡¯t have to worry about timing.¡±

    Carlyle shifted his weight, his hand tightening around the head of his cane. ¡°Let¡¯s hope everything goes according to plan. But something tells me this job¡¯s going to be more than we bargained for.¡±

    The room fell into silence again, the unspoken tension settling like a heavy fog. They were professionals, each seasoned in their own right, but even the most skilled could be caught in the crossfire of something far bigger than themselves.

    Rory stood abruptly, brushing her dark brown hair back with a casual flick. ¡°I need to get my costume and infiltrate an hour earlier.¡±

    ¡°Same here,¡± Henry said, rising to follow her.

    The two hunters exited the room, their footsteps fading down the hall. Carlyle remained seated, his gaze drifting to Grue. The man sat quietly, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Known for his anonymity and lethality, Grue was a rare breed among hunters¡ªa Trickster-type whose combat prowess was as formidable as his ability to manipulate the battlefield.

    Carlyle leaned back, tapping his cane lightly as he studied the man. ¡°What do you think of Rey? His aura?¡±

    Grue didn¡¯t answer immediately, his eyes narrowing in thought. ¡°Too subdued,¡± he finally said. ¡°You¡¯d almost think he was a mundane. If it¡¯s some kind of technique, I couldn¡¯t tell. It looked too natural. For a second, I thought he might be a Trickster like me. Aura suppression is more our thing anyway.¡±

    Carlyle¡¯s interest piqued. ¡°How about signs of training? Anything that stood out?¡±

    Grue shook his head. ¡°None. His stance was off¡ªpoor, even. Or maybe he was faking it. But he¡¯s built. I could tell he¡¯s killed a man before. My special ability... it lets me know these things.¡±

    Carlyle¡¯s brow arched. ¡°Interesting. Care to elaborate?¡±

    Grue¡¯s gaze flicked to Carlyle, his voice steady but edged with warning. ¡°Normally, if someone¡¯s hiding their aura, you¡¯d need to get close¡ªmaybe touch them¡ªto figure out if they¡¯re an aura user. But with Rey? Even if you touched him, you¡¯d mistake him for a mundane. Unless you¡¯re a Tracker sub-type, you¡¯d never be sure.¡±

    Carlyle considered this, his mind turning over the implications. ¡°That¡¯s high praise coming from you.¡±

    Grue leaned back, his expression unchanging but his tone carrying a hint of finality. ¡°You¡¯ve asked your questions. Now, you owe me a favor.¡±

    Carlyle sighed, though he had anticipated this. ¡°As long as it isn¡¯t excessive, I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Grue¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his voice. ¡°Introduce me to your information brokers. Good ones who accept money as payment. If I keep using the Author¡¯s services, I¡¯ll be in his debt for the next ten years.¡±

    A wry smile tugged at Carlyle¡¯s lips. ¡°Fair enough. I can do that.¡±

    For a consultation with someone as elusive and insightful as Grue, that was a reasonable price to pay.

    ~014

 015 Bait & Business

    XV

    Pulling this off had cost me more favors than I cared to admit, but it was worth it. The operation hinged on distracting the Elsewhere Cult, and the item in my hand¡ªa replica of Mariah Morey¡ªwas a key part of that plan. The cursed statue, now tucked securely in my briefcase, was bait. I knew their priests would gather here tonight, and this relic would draw even more of them out of hiding.

    This gala was meant to be just a normal meeting between theirmmembers, but because of the ¡®bait¡¯, the gala had transformed into a full hard-on party¡­

    Security gave me the usual frisk before letting me through. They weren¡¯t as thorough as I¡¯d expected, their attention more focused on the crowd than on the guests themselves. Perfect. The suit and tie I wore made from special technology¡ªanother favor cashed in¡ªfit like a glove. More importantly, it was aura-responsive and durable, offering just enough protection for the chaos I was about to unleash.

    The gala was alive with chatter and music, a cacophony of indulgence. As I navigated the room, I kept my focus sharp, scanning for any sign of the Cult¡¯s presence. Every detail mattered, every moment counted.

    Rory¡¯s voice crackled in my earpiece. ¡°In position. Poison ready.¡±

    Grue followed. ¡°Standing by.¡±

    Henry added, ¡°Two others not on the list. Probably cultists.¡±

    Carlyle¡¯s voice was last. ¡°Still waiting for the signal.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond. Instead, I kept my stride even as a pudgy man approached me. Eric Lannister. A familiar face. He was one of the Cult¡¯s financial backers, a man whose self-importance was as inflated as his waistline.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you could make it, Mr. Wells,¡± he said smoothly, though his tone lacked sincerity.

    "Mr. Wells" was my alias for the evening, a carefully crafted identity to keep my true purpose concealed.

    ¡°The package is here,¡± I said, keeping my tone neutral. ¡°Is there a way I can meet the clients?¡±

    Eric¡¯s smile tightened. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible. I can pay you now¡ªhow much?¡±

    ¡°I want to meet them,¡± I repeated, my expression calm, my words firm.

    His eyes narrowed, his smile faltering. ¡°That¡¯s not how this works, Mr. Wells. I assure you, you¡¯ll be compensated handsomely without any face-to-face interaction.¡±

    "Unfortunate," I said, letting a smirk creep onto my face. "But you don¡¯t mind if I stick around to enjoy the gala, do you?"

    His smile turned into a grimace, though he quickly masked it. ¡°Of course not. You¡¯re a valued guest.¡±

    I handed him the briefcase, letting my fingers linger on it just a moment longer than necessary.

    Mariah Morey.

    The name echoed in my mind. The Cult¡¯s whispers about her had spread through the Hunter world. Once a member of their ranks, she¡¯d ventured into the Forbidden Region and returned as stone¡ªa warning, a relic, and a symbol of their twisted faith.

    "Two hundred million worths," I said evenly.

    Eric¡¯s confidence cracked. His eyes widened, and he blinked in disbelief. ¡°Two... two hundred million?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a transaction for a piece of art. You and I both know the significance of what¡¯s inside that briefcase. A relic of your Cult. A symbol of your history, and perhaps... your future.¡±

    His unease was palpable as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a growl. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not trying to extort us. That would be... unwise.¡±

    "Not extortion," I said, leaning back with a faint smile. "Just good business."

    Eric¡¯s gaze flicked between me and the briefcase. He was cornered, and we both knew it. After a tense moment, he relented. ¡°I¡¯ll send the money now.¡±

    He pulled out his phone, entering the details I¡¯d given him. My Hunter bank account¡ªa system so secure and off-grid that even the Cult couldn¡¯t trace it¡ªbuzzed moments later, confirming the transfer.

    "Pleasure doing business," I said, pocketing my phone.

    Eric forced a smile. ¡°I hope we can do more business in the future, Mr. Wells.¡±

    "Perhaps," I replied, already thinking ahead.

    As Eric waddled off, likely to report the transaction to his superiors, I sent a quick message to Rory.

    ¡°Money secured. Proceed.¡±

    Her reply was immediate. ¡°Understood. Lacing the rest of the food. Give me ten minutes.¡±

    The gala buzzed with an air of indulgence, laughter mingling with the soft strains of a live orchestra. On the surface, it was just another evening of luxury and networking. Beneath the facade, however, the atmosphere was electric with tension.

    I scanned the room, my eyes flitting between faces. Prominent figures, their auras humming faintly beneath layers of practiced civility, moved among the guests. I picked out at least three hunters I hadn¡¯t anticipated. Likely hired by the Elsewhere Cult for additional security. Not a problem¡ªjust another layer to the puzzle I was piecing together.

    Pressing a finger to my earpiece, I spoke low, keeping my tone neutral. ¡°Grue, keep an eye on the security team. There are a few extras. Rory¡¯s finishing the prep now. We move soon.¡±

    Grue¡¯s reply was succinct: ¡°Got it.¡±

    I adjusted my cufflinks, keeping my expression neutral as I added, ¡°Carlyle, are you in position yet?¡±

    ¡°Just arrived,¡± he replied, calm as ever. ¡°Tell me when you need the walls.¡±

    Henry¡¯s voice followed almost immediately. ¡°Five more... and¡­ thirteen more. That¡¯s a lot of hunters. I don¡¯t think they recognized me. I¡¯ll be hiding from a distance for the meantime.¡±

    Thirteen. That was no small bump. Enough hunters to turn this gala into a bloodbath if things went sideways. I forced myself to keep my movements relaxed, masking the tension clawing at the edges of my focus.

    ¡°Good. Stay hidden,¡± I muttered. Henry¡¯s detection abilities weren¡¯t on par with a full Tracker-type, but they were more than enough to spot trouble. And right now, he¡¯d earned his keep.

    Rory chimed in, her voice as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. ¡°My poison can be remotely activated when I want. Just give me the word.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Rory. Hold for now,¡± I said, letting the rest of the team hear the confirmation. This wasn¡¯t just about me pulling strings anymore; they needed to feel like they had control in the chaos we were about to unleash.

    ¡°Everyone stay sharp,¡± I added. ¡°We move in ten.¡±

    I began counting down in my head.

    Ten.

    The crowd swirled around me, laughing, eating, and drinking. Oblivious.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Nine.

    I moved seamlessly through the room, shaking hands, exchanging meaningless pleasantries. A mask to keep suspicions at bay.

    Eight.

    More people arrived. With each new face, my suspicions grew. Hunters blending into the gathering, priests of the Cult moving among them.

    Seven.

    I slipped into a dim corner, away from the center of attention. Waiting. Watching.

    Six.

    The guests continued their revelry, blissfully unaware of what was coming.

    Five.

    Eric Lannister, playing the part of a gracious host, laughed and mingled, his movements practiced and confident.

    Four.

    Then I saw him. One of the main targets¡ªthe Prophet¡¯s right-hand man. His eyes locked onto mine, and a flicker of recognition passed over his face.

    Three.

    Rory¡¯s voice crackled in my ear. ¡°Everyone in the gala has fed on my aura.¡±

    Two.

    I took a deep breath, my voice steady as I gave the order. ¡°Do it.¡±

    One.

    Grue entered the room, his leather jacket blending seamlessly with the formal attire of the evening. His helmet was on, its reflective surface hiding his face.

    Carlyle¡¯s force walls snapped into place, silent and invisible, sealing every exit.

    Zero.

    The effect was immediate. One by one, the guests began to collapse, their bodies hitting the floor in a slow, synchronized cascade. Rory¡¯s poison worked flawlessly. Priests, hunters, and followers alike crumpled into unconsciousness.

    The room was eerily quiet save for the faint rustle of collapsing bodies. The real work was about to begin.

    Henry¡¯s voice came through the comms, sharp and urgent. ¡°Two managed to get away. I killed one. The other¡¯s running. Do I pursue?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I replied firmly. ¡°Stay where you are and kill anyone else who tries to escape.¡±

    A slow breath escaped me. One escaping wasn¡¯t ideal, but it wasn¡¯t catastrophic either. A controlled leak, a seed of paranoia to spread through the Cult¡¯s ranks.

    ¡°Grue,¡± I said, my voice calm despite the tension. ¡°Watch my back. Carlyle, hold the barriers until we¡¯re done.¡±

    The room was eerily quiet, the stillness broken only by the faint rustle of clothing and the occasional groan from those who had managed to resist the poison''s full effect. Bodies littered the floor like discarded dolls, a tableau of opulence brought to ruin.

    This was what I wanted. For the Elsewhere Cult to feel hunted, dragged out of their shadows and into the glaring light. A survivor would spread the story, amplify the paranoia. Stir the pot just enough to force them into rash decisions. But first, I had to handle the rest of this cleanly.

    Grue approached me silently, extending the knife. I took it, its cold weight a reminder of the culmination of everything I had planned. Kneeling beside one of the collapsed mundanes, I pried open his lower lip.

    There it was: a series of tiny, etched numbers. A mark of the Elsewhere Cult.

    Without hesitation, I drew the blade across his throat, the motion clean and efficient.

    Grue loomed over me, his flat voice cutting through the quiet. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything about killing ordinary people.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t ordinary,¡± I replied, wiping the blade on the dead man¡¯s shirt. ¡°They might not have aura, but they¡¯re monsters in their own way. The only reason they¡¯re in the positions they are now is because of the human sacrifices they¡¯ve offered to the Cult. Some of these people are probably older than us, sustained by dark rituals.¡±

    I rose to my feet and handed the knife back to Grue. ¡°Help me finish this. But leave the hunters to me. And remember¡ªcheck for the serial numbers on the lower lips before you kill. Let those who don¡¯t have them go¡­¡±

    Grue nodded once and moved off without a word.

    I turned my attention to the unconscious hunter sprawled near the center of the room. Her aura was faint, almost imperceptible, but my Soul Link told me she wasn¡¯t entirely out. She was playing dead.

    A clever tactic, but not clever enough.

    The Soul Link only connected with those who were aware of my presence, and through it, I could perceive and temporarily steal her illusion attribute. She didn¡¯t realize that I had hidden the link behind her own aura¡ªa subtle trick that most hunters would never notice.

    I knelt beside her, my eyes drawn to the dagger sheathed at her hip. Its craftsmanship was exquisite, its balance perfect. I picked it up, running my thumb lightly along its edge, feeling the razor-sharp bite.

    Her aura pulsed faintly as I took her attribute, returning it just as quickly. I smirked. She had no idea how deeply I could manipulate her now.

    Using her own illusion attribute against her, I amplified her pain. Even the faintest touch would now feel like a searing wound.

    Without hesitation, I stabbed her just above the heart¡ªnot deep enough to kill, but enough to send a wave of agony crashing through her body.

    Her scream tore through the room. ¡°Aaagh~!¡± Her body tensed, muscles locking as she tried to fight back, but I was already on her. One knee pinned her leg, one hand holding her arm down.

    ¡°Be careful,¡± I murmured, leaning in close. ¡°An inch deeper, and I¡¯ll hit your arteries.¡±

    Her eyes burned with defiance, even through the pain.

    ¡°Your illusion attribute, though¡­ what a waste,¡± I continued, twisting the blade slightly. ¡°Tricksters with half your ability would be doing far more creative things.¡±

    She writhed beneath me, her breaths ragged and shallow.

    ¡°Now,¡± I said, my voice calm but cold. ¡°Tell me¡ªwhere is the Prophet?¡±

    Her lips trembled, and for a moment, I thought she might break. But her silence told me she wasn¡¯t ready to talk. Not yet. I sighed, applying just a little more pressure to the blade. Her aura flared, a futile attempt to shield herself from the pain.

    I twisted the blade slightly, watching her writhe in pain. ¡°Let¡¯s try that again, tell me¡ªwhere is the Prophet?¡±

    Her eyes, sharp and defiant, burned with hatred. ¡°I won¡¯t say a word to a mongrel like you¡ª¡± she spat, venom lacing every syllable.

    I sighed, already tiring of her bravado. Reaching out, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her lips. The sharp intake of breath and the way her body tensed told me I was hitting a nerve. With my free hand, I traced her lower lip. As expected, the faint imprint of serial numbers greeted my fingertips¡ªa clear mark of her allegiance to the Elsewhere Cult.

    ¡°You¡¯re not just another hunter, are you?¡± I muttered, meeting her hate-filled gaze. ¡°You¡¯re in deep. Figures.¡±

    She didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t even blink, her expression hard and unyielding.

    ¡°You know what?¡± I said, my tone almost conversational. ¡°I believe you.¡±

    Before she could react, I drove the dagger deeper into her chest, feeling the blade slice through flesh and bone. Her body jerked once, then went limp, the defiance in her eyes extinguished.

    Couldn¡¯t blame a guy for trying to get a confession.

    I let her body slump to the floor, wiping the blood off the dagger with a handkerchief I¡¯d pocketed earlier. My gaze swept the room, taking in the unconscious figures scattered across the floor like discarded marionettes. Grue stood near the edge of the carnage, his dark helmet obscuring any expression, though his posture was as unreadable as ever.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need her alive?¡± he asked, his voice flat but tinged with curiosity.

    ¡°She made her choice,¡± I replied, slipping the dagger into my belt. ¡°Besides, she wasn¡¯t going to talk. These zealots rarely do.¡±

    Grue nodded, stepping past me to check another body. ¡°Serial numbers?¡±

    I crossed the room to another collapsed figure, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit. Pulling back his lip, I confirmed the telltale mark. ¡°Same as the others.¡±

    ¡°Efficient system,¡± Grue remarked dryly, flipping a corpse onto its side to inspect their lips. ¡°Makes it easier to sort out who dies and who we leave.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get sentimental on me now,¡± I said, moving to the next body.

    The truth was, I didn¡¯t relish this. Killing wasn¡¯t something I did for fun¡ªit was a means to an end. The Elsewhere Cult had its claws in too many places, and these so-called "innocents" were far from it. Every one of them had blood on their hands, either directly or indirectly. If I hesitated, it would only give them more time to spread their corruption.

    A soft crackle came through my earpiece. Rory¡¯s voice, calm but with a slight edge, cut through the silence. ¡°Everything¡¯s laced. You¡¯ve got ten minutes before the poison fully metabolizes. Get what you need and get out.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± I replied, stepping over a body as I headed toward the gala¡¯s main stage.

    Grue followed silently, his movements almost ghostlike despite his imposing frame. ¡°What about the hunters?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll handle them,¡± I said, scanning the crowd. ¡°Focus on the mundanes. We need to make sure none of them crawl back to their masters.¡±

    Grue nodded and disappeared into the shadows, leaving me to deal with the hunters.

    One of them¡ªa young man, barely out of his teens¡ªcaught my eye. He was sprawled near the edge of the stage, his breathing shallow but steady. A quick check confirmed no serial numbers. Just a hired gun, likely unaware of who he¡¯d been working for.

    Lucky him.

    I stepped over him, making my way to the center of the stage. The ornate podium stood like a monument to the Cult¡¯s arrogance, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen. Resting atop it was the real prize of the evening¡ªa gilded ledger, its pages bound in black leather and marked with the Cult¡¯s sigil.

    This was what I¡¯d come for.

    Slipping on a pair of gloves, I picked up the ledger, its weight heavier than I expected. Flipping through the pages, I scanned the names, dates, and transactions meticulously recorded within. This wasn¡¯t just a list of followers¡ªit was a roadmap to the Cult¡¯s entire operation.

    ¡°Found it,¡± I said into the comms, tucking the ledger into my jacket.

    Maybe I should post a bounty on the cult in the Hunter¡¯s Net or something¡­

    ¡°Good,¡± Rory replied. ¡°Now get out before the bodies start twitching.¡±

    I turned to leave but paused, my eyes falling on a figure at the far end of the room. One of the hunters, a woman in her thirties, was stirring. Her fingers twitched, and her breathing quickened.

    She was waking up.

    I moved quickly, crossing the room in a few long strides. Kneeling beside her, I drew the dagger once more, its edge glinting in the dim light. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, fear flashed across her face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± I said, pressing the blade to her throat. ¡°You¡¯re not getting out of this alive. But if you tell me where the Prophet is, I¡¯ll make it quick.¡±

    Her lips trembled, but she said nothing, her gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± I muttered, tightening my grip on the dagger.

    A soft gurgle escaped her lips as the blade found its mark.

    As I stood, wiping the blood from my gloves, I felt the weight of the ledger pressing against my chest. This was only the beginning. The Prophet would come for me now, and when he did, I¡¯d be ready.

    ~015

 016 Threats & Married Life

    XVI

    Finishing off the remaining unconscious hunters was a methodical process. Slice their throats, puncture the base of their skulls¡ªclean, precise, and thorough. It was almost disturbingly easy. Each movement felt calculated, practiced, as though my body knew exactly what to do before my mind could even process it. Grue worked in silence on his side, his efficiency matching my own.

    So this was the power of preparation. Knowing your enemies'' weaknesses, their patterns, their limitations¡ªit made all the difference.

    I spared the innocents, of course. Those without the serial numbers beneath their lips were let go, though they¡¯d likely need therapy for the rest of their lives after tonight. Still, the scene was bloody. Over a dozen wealthy elites marked with the Cult¡¯s numbers lay dead. Thirty priests, a handful of hunters, and then him¡ªthe Prophet¡¯s right-hand man.

    He was pretending to be unconscious.

    I was saving him for last.

    The idea of torture unsettled me, but it wasn¡¯t something I could shy away from. Information had to be extracted, and some truths only came under duress. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder why he was playing dead. Was he buying time? Waiting for reinforcements? Trying to lower my guard?

    ¡°Rory,¡± I said into the comms, breaking the silence. ¡°Do you know any truth serum providers?¡±

    ¡°What are you doing? I suggest you skedaddle now,¡± Rory replied, her tone sharp with urgency.

    I sighed, glancing around at the carnage. Killing them while they were immobile had been quick, but searching them took time. I couldn¡¯t help myself¡ªI got greedy. The ledger should have been enough, but I had also found a suspicious phone with military-grade augmentations, a notepad with connections to powerful people, and a ring with a hidden compartment. It was a haul, and I¡¯d improvised a bag from someone¡¯s suit to carry it all.

    ¡°Grue,¡± I called out, my attention shifting back to the right-hand man. ¡°Change of plans. I want this guy alive¡ª¡±

    Before I could finish, I felt it.

    A surge of aura slammed into my senses like a tidal wave. My head snapped toward the source: the right-hand man. His body, which had been motionless just moments ago, now radiated raw energy. His aura flared wildly, chaotic and unstable.

    He wasn¡¯t trying to escape. He was trying to destroy everything.

    I felt the explosive attribute within him¡ªvolatile, building with terrifying speed. This wasn¡¯t just a fight or flight response. It was a deliberate, suicidal effort to blow the entire place sky-high.

    Instinct took over.

    I leapt.

    My hand clamped into his wrist.

    I activated my Soul Link, locking onto his aura. As our energies connected, I felt the immense pressure building inside him. It was like standing in the eye of a storm, the power swirling dangerously close to the breaking point.

    I equalized our auras, siphoning off just enough to stabilize him temporarily. But I didn¡¯t stop there. Returning his aura at the critical moment, I turned it inward, using his own energy against him.

    I let go of his wrist

    The effect was immediate.

    His body began to collapse, imploding under the weight of his own power. The energy had nowhere to go, and the detonation he¡¯d been building reversed itself, folding in on him like a black hole. His eyes widened in shock, a brief moment of realization flashing across his face before everything went silent.

    It was over.

    ¡°What the hell just happened?¡± Grue¡¯s voice broke through the stillness, his usually calm tone shaky.

    I ignored him, wiping the blood from my knife and standing over what was left of the right-hand man. There was no reason to explain, no reason to advertise the finer details of my abilities. Information was power, and even within my team, there were things I preferred to keep to myself.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said, my voice steady as I adjusted the makeshift bag on my shoulder.

    Grue hesitated but didn¡¯t argue. He fell into step behind me, his presence a quiet shadow as we made our way toward the exit.

    The night wasn¡¯t over, but this part of the mission was. Now, it was only a matter of time before the Prophet himself made his move. And when he did, he would want me.

    As we stepped out into the night, Henry was already waiting for us, idling in a beat-up white van that didn¡¯t scream "escape vehicle" but blended perfectly into the surroundings. I could see Carlyle and Rory through the windshield, sitting in the back. They looked calm, as if they hadn¡¯t just been part of a massacre.

    I opened the van¡¯s door and climbed in, followed by Grue, who muttered something about being cramped.

    ¡°So,¡± I asked casually, settling into my seat, ¡°where do you guys want to eat? My treat.¡±

    The mood was mixed, but my attempt at humor barely landed.

    Carlyle glanced at me with a small smirk but shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve got other business to take care of.¡±

    Grue grumbled, crossing his arms. ¡°Not like I did much tonight anyway. I was hoping for some action.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Henry, sitting behind the wheel, gave a tired sigh. ¡°It¡¯s my wife¡¯s death anniversary. I need to visit her grave.¡±

    Rory shrugged, glancing between the others. ¡°I¡¯d come if everyone else was in, but¡­¡± She trailed off, realizing that wasn¡¯t happening.

    The silence in the van lingered as the weight of the night settled over us. No one had said it out loud, but we all knew the kind of things we¡¯d done back there weren¡¯t easy to shake off.

    Eventually, we split up.

    When I got back to my current safe house, I wasted no time. The first call I made was to a hunter-run funeral home. They specialized in handling ¡°delicate¡± matters, like burying bodies that no one wanted questions asked about. It wasn¡¯t cheap, but the cleanup had to be thorough.

    Once the arrangements were made, I started packing. This place had served its purpose, but it was time to move on.

    The next destination? The Capital City.

    The mundane world operated under a single, unified government known as the Government. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªno government was¡ªbut it kept things functional. As part of the Government¡¯s checks and balances, the Hunter¡¯s Association held significant power. Their main headquarters was located in the Capital City, making it the perfect place for my next step.

    The Hunters¡¯ Examination was coming up.

    As an unofficial hunter, my access to certain privileges and resources was limited. A hunter¡¯s license was more than just a piece of paper; it was a key. With it, I could explore places like the Forbidden Region, gain trust, and secure my operations.

    The truth was, I needed to build credibility. My current methods relied too heavily on favors and connections, which could only get me so far. If I wanted to play a bigger game, I needed official status.

    And then there were the resources. A license would mean a secure bank account, better equipment, and access to networks that were currently out of reach. Leora¡¯s old contacts, for example¡ªpeople I might need to rely on sooner rather than later. I wondered how she was holding up on her side. Hopefully, better than I¡¯d left her.

    The trip to the Capital City was grueling.

    Driving through back roads to avoid attention, dealing with delays, and finally taking a long-haul flight¡ªit all added up. By the time I arrived, a full week had passed, and I was running on fumes.

    The first thing I did was find a high-class motel. The kind that didn¡¯t ask too many questions as long as you paid up front. I dropped my bags on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the bed.

    Sleep hit me like a brick.

    For the first time in weeks, I didn¡¯t dream.

    I woke up in the middle of the night, groggy and disoriented, as my phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. For a second, I thought it was a dream, but the persistent ringing pulled me out of the haze. My heart thudded in my chest, a sense of foreboding creeping in as I reached for the device.

    The screen glowed with an unlisted number. I already had a hunch who it might be.

    ¡°How did you get this number?¡± I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.

    ¡°I paid for it, of course,¡± came the sharp, unmistakable voice of my wife, Leora. ¡°Do you think you''re the only information broker out there?¡±

    She sounded furious¡ªabsolutely livid.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare hang up on me, Reynard!¡±

    I hung up without hesitation, her voice cutting off mid-sentence. Tossing the phone onto the nightstand, I flopped back onto the bed and turned the phone off completely. Whatever she wanted, it could wait. I wasn¡¯t in the mood for her theatrics.

    And yes, I was being a jerk¡­

    The room fell into a peaceful silence, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner.

    I closed my eyes, guilt and frustration mingling in the back of my mind. But exhaustion won out, and I drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

    The next time I woke up, it wasn¡¯t to the sound of my phone but to a strange sensation¡ªa tickling against my ear. My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring at a familiar face hovering just inches above mine. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that sly, knowing smile.

    For a moment, my breath caught. Then, my instincts kicked in.

    ¡°You¡¯re not my wife,¡± I said flatly, my voice cutting through the quiet room.

    The woman blinked, her expression feigning innocence. ¡°Oh, Rey, how could you say that?¡± she cooed, her lips curling into a pout.

    But I wasn¡¯t fooled. Her aura gave her away, no matter how perfect the imitation.

    I could say¡­ I¡¯m aura-sensitive¡­ Not the Seeker-kind of sensitive¡­

    Before I could move, she reached for her clothes trying to disrobe. ¡°It looks like you¡¯ve forgotten what your wife looks like. Here, let me remind you¡ª¡±

    I caught her wrist mid-motion, my grip firm. Her fake blush and sultry act didn¡¯t fool me for a second.

    ¡°Trickster type. Shapeshifter. Information Hunter¡­ Selena Fair,¡± I said, my voice hard. ¡°How do you know my wife?¡±

    Her pout transformed into a sly grin. She knew the game was up. ¡°Oh, Rey, you¡¯re no fun.¡±

    She leaned in closer, her hand pressing lightly against my chest, her breath warm against my skin. ¡°You¡¯re too good for that klutz,¡± she whispered, her voice dripping with mockery.

    Her proximity set off alarms in my head. This situation was spiraling out of control, and I didn¡¯t like it. The fact that Leora, my wife¡ªand apparently the protagonist¡¯s mom from the obscure novel I¡¯d been reincarnated into¡ªhad history with this woman only made things more complicated.

    Selena stroked my cheek, her touch gentle but calculating. Enough was enough.

    I grabbed her wrist with my free hand and attempted a quick judo throw to create some distance. But she was faster than I anticipated. Twisting mid-air, she slipped from my grip and managed to turn the tables, sending me sprawling face-first onto the bed.

    Before I could react, she planted a playful kiss on my cheek and snapped a selfie.

    Furious, I lashed out with an aura-infused punch, but she dodged gracefully, her movements almost feline. She held up her phone, flashing the screen at me. It was the selfie¡ªa shot of her kissing my cheek, cleavage prominently displayed.

    With a mischievous grin, she clicked "send." Her disguise melted away, revealing her true form¡ªdark brown hair, green eyes, and that same infuriating smile.

    ¡°Selena Fair,¡± I muttered, grinding my teeth.

    Her phone rang almost immediately, and she answered it with a flourish, putting it on speaker.

    ¡°You wench! You dare!? I will chop you into a million pieces¡ª¡± Leora¡¯s voice erupted from the speaker, seething with fury. ¡°Feed you to the pigs, have them shit you out, and then I¡¯ll bury you six feet underground¡ª¡±

    Selena winked at me, clearly enjoying the chaos she had caused.

    ¡°Selena,¡± I said sharply, cutting through Leora¡¯s tirade, ¡°what is your relationship with my wife?¡±

    Selena¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Oh, she owes me a husband.¡±

    Leora¡¯s voice practically exploded. ¡°LIES! YOU OWE ME BIG TIME, YOU UNGRATEFUL WENCH! I ASKED YOU TO TRACK MY HUSBAND, AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU VIOLATE HIM! DIRTY HIS PRECIOUS CHEEK! WASH IT, REY! WASH IT FROM YOUR MEMORY!¡±

    I groaned, rubbing my temples. ¡°Selena, enough. Leora, calm down.¡±

    ¡°WASH IT NOW, REY! OR I¡¯LL DO IT MYSELF WHEN I FIND YOU!¡±

    Selena shrugged, completely unfazed. ¡°You¡¯re married to her? Yikes.¡±

    She leaned in again, her tone turning sultry. ¡°Oh, Rey, forget about that boring wife of yours. You could have me instead.¡±

    Before I could respond, she dropped her voice into a perfect impersonation of mine. ¡°You don¡¯t need to call her, Lena. She¡¯s annoying. Come here¡­ make me feel good.¡±

    Leora¡¯s shriek on the other end was deafening.

    ¡°Stop traumatizing my wife,¡± I muttered, facepalming.

    Selena grinned. ¡°What? I¡¯m just having fun.¡±

    I sighed deeply, borrowing Selena¡¯s aura and equalizing it. I added a twist¡ªreturning her aura with her own disguise attribute. Her form shimmered and shifted, transforming her into a small child.

    ¡°What the¡ª?!¡± Selena squeaked, her voice now high-pitched and confused.

    I grabbed her phone, called Leora back, and turned off the speaker. ¡°Why is she here, Leora?¡±

    ¡°DON¡¯T FALL FOR HER TRICKS, OR I SWEAR I¡¯LL DIVORCE YOU!¡±

    I winced, already feeling the headache building.

    ~016

 017 Road to Legitimacy

    XVII

    ¡°Are you for real? Divorce?¡± I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. ¡°You do know I¡¯m the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to you, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Leora¡¯s voice was small, almost timid. ¡°But it¡¯s not like you¡¯ve been on your best behavior recently.¡±

    ¡°And you have? You started it! Running off like that with your hunter powers¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t know you were a hunter too!¡± she shot back.

    I froze, the silence stretching between us.

    Technically, she wasn¡¯t wrong. I hadn¡¯t been a hunter back when everything started. Even now, I wasn¡¯t officially one. Leora probably thought I¡¯d kept it from her on purpose, but the truth was far messier than I could explain. The assassination attempt on our lives had set everything into motion, and I¡¯d been improvising ever since.

    I sighed, feeling the weight of my lie pressing down on me. I couldn¡¯t tell her the full truth¡ªnot yet.

    ¡°There¡¯s no point arguing about this,¡± I said, shifting gears. ¡°Can I have Stefan¡¯s contact number?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Sure¡­¡±

    That was surprisingly easy. I blinked, suspicious. ¡°No questions?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I trust you because you¡¯re my husband,¡± she said sweetly. Then her tone turned sharp. ¡°But I don¡¯t trust your lower half as much¡ªbecause, in the end, you¡¯re just a man. Instinct is instinct. Food is food. Consider this your warning: if I catch you cheating, I will cut it off.¡±

    I gulped, my hand reflexively dropping lower in self-preservation.

    Leora¡¯s voice turned curious. ¡°By the way, how in the hell does our son have aura?¡±

    My stomach dropped. I must¡¯ve slipped up somewhere. ¡°Uuh¡­ it showed up when he was two months old, the day of the attack.¡±

    ¡°You forgot to tell me?¡± Her tone turned icy.

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to mention that to me,¡± she continued, ¡°when you basically dropped him on me and declared you¡¯d handle the hunting instead. What¡¯s your progress, anyway?¡±

    Her anger practically crackled through the phone. I could picture her seething, her aura flaring in frustration. Memories of her story in the novel surfaced¡ªhow she had single-handedly wiped out the mercenaries sent after us. Oval, a corporate-style group of hunters and heavily armed mundanes, hadn¡¯t stood a chance. Her warning to the hunter world had been brutal and effective, buying me time to strategize.

    I cleared my throat, stalling for time. ¡°Well, I at least have the name of their group. I¡¯ve also identified a key target. Once they¡¯re out of the equation, things will be so much easier for us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s better than nothing,¡± she said, her tone softening slightly. ¡°And it¡¯s only been barely over a month¡­¡±

    The truth was, my progress felt like a drop in the ocean. The Prophet¡ªthe leader of the Elsewhere Cult¡ªwas my ultimate target, but taking him down was no small feat. He was a Reader with unparalleled clairvoyance, had danger sense, and a small army of elite guards. If I could¡¯ve dropped a nuke on him, I would have.

    Even with every favor owed to me and every ally at my back, I¡¯d still fall short. To take him down, I needed the backing of the Hunter Association. My plan was simple: get my Hunter¡¯s license, climb the ranks, and eventually issue a Hunt Order.

    ¡°It¡¯ll take me over three years to start hunting those after our son,¡± I explained. ¡°My declaration of war a few days ago should make me a target. If they send more after me, it means the Prophet¡¯s foreseen I¡¯ll succeed. If they back off, I¡¯ll regroup with you, and we¡¯ll come up with another plan.¡±

    ¡°Three years is a long time,¡± Leora said, her voice heavy. ¡°I¡¯ve only been gone for two years, and look how much he¡¯s grown¡­ And look at how far apart we¡¯ve been torn¡­ I feel like¡­ I don¡¯t even know you anymore. And I know how much of a hypocrite this made me sound, but please¡­ no secrets, okay?¡±

    Her words twisted a knife in my chest. I knew my future¡ªI had less than eight years left to live if the canon event played out. But screw canon. I¡¯d fight fate tooth and nail, and I¡¯d win.

    ¡°How¡¯s Leon?¡± I asked, changing the subject.

    ¡°You won¡¯t believe it. I¡¯m teaching him the aura methods¡­ and it¡¯s insane. This kid¡¯s a genius. He¡¯s already grasped four out of the seven methods, and he hasn¡¯t even learned to walk yet. And get this¡ªhe¡¯s a Caster, right? He made a giant fireball the size of a basketball and completely incinerated my bike,¡± she said, her voice a mix of pride and frustration.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°I hope no one was hurt.¡±

    Before she could respond, Selena¡¯s tiny voice interrupted. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t ignore me!¡±

    She was still stuck in her diminutive form, punching my knees with her tiny fists. Her aura had always been weak, but now, with her shrunken body, she couldn¡¯t even use her techniques properly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ignore me! Give me back my beautiful body!¡± she whined, glaring up at me.

    I sighed, glancing between my phone and the tiny trickster at my feet.

    Eventually, Selena gave up.

    ¡°Leora, what am I supposed to do with Selena? Honestly, I¡¯d rather not have her around¡­¡± I asked, frustration lacing my tone as I stared at Selena, who was currently lounging on my couch, flipping through a magazine like she owned the place.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Leora¡¯s voice crackled through the phone, calm but firm. ¡°She might be a bit of a vixen, but we¡¯ll need as many allies as we can get. I sent Selena to be your bodyguard. She¡¯s a trusted friend, though she¡¯s a bit¡­ off in the head. But her skills are real.¡±

    Thought so.

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust that Jacob guy to watch your back,¡± Leora continued, ¡°nor any of those mercenaries who might owe you favors. But I trust her¡­ well, as long as she¡¯s not trying to get you in bed.¡±

    I let out a tired sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, no one¡¯s getting me in bed.¡±

    I knew Selena¡¯s type all too well. She was obsessed with the idea of finding her soulmate¡ªa fixation so intense it bordered on insanity. Her flirty, frivolous antics often made her seem unreliable, but deep down, she was a woman of her word. Her dreams of romance drove her every move, even when those moves made her seem like a walking disaster.

    Leora¡¯s voice softened. ¡°If you have her by your side, I¡¯ll feel a lot better about you doing the hunting. Selena¡¯s like a sister to me.¡±

    Like a sister? That was news to me.

    Leora must¡¯ve sensed my surprise because she quickly added, ¡°I¡¯ll give you Stefan¡¯s contact info.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, genuinely grateful. Despite everything Selena had stirred up, Leora was still backing me up.

    ¡°Stay safe,¡± she said, a hint of worry slipping through her usually composed tone.

    ¡°Same goes for you. Give Leon extra kisses from me,¡± I said, thinking of our son and how much I missed him.

    There was a brief pause on the line. ¡°I love you.¡±

    ¡°I love you too,¡± I replied, meaning every word.

    ¡°Bye.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, until then.¡±

    The line clicked off, leaving me in the quiet hum of the room.

    As the effect of my suppression technique finally wore off, Selena snapped back into her original form with a faint puff of smoke. She scowled, brushing imaginary dust off her clothes. ¡°Damn it! Finally! What kind of freaky ability is that?¡± Her glare turned playful as she stuck out her tongue. ¡°All that ¡®I love this, I love you that,¡¯ ugh! Couples are overrated!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re such a riot,¡± I said dryly, grabbing my briefcase, already packed and ready. ¡°Pack up; we¡¯re moving.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. ¡°Where to?¡±

    ¡°The Hunter¡¯s Examination venue.¡±

    Selena groaned dramatically but followed me out of the hotel.

    ¡­

    I stood outside, trying to hail a cab, but no luck. The Capital City was as chaotic as ever, with every cab either occupied or zooming past without a glance. Selena had vanished at some point, which wasn¡¯t unusual for her.

    Then, out of nowhere, a bright yellow sports car screeched to a stop in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Selena behind the wheel, a smug grin plastered across her face.

    ¡°Hop in, handsome,¡± she called out, winking.

    I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. ¡°It¡¯s ugly,¡± I deadpanned, gesturing to the car. ¡°I hate yellow.¡±

    Her face twisted in mock outrage. ¡°It is a damn stylish sports car¡ªtake it back!¡±

    I smirked. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s just a little bit better than a taxi.¡±

    ¡°Damn it! Just get in!¡± she snapped, glaring at me.

    I chuckled and opened the door. ¡°Alright, fine. But only because you insisted.¡±

    The drive was quiet at first, the city¡¯s noise fading into the background. Selena, surprisingly focused on the road, didn¡¯t say much until we hit the outskirts. Then, without warning, she broke the silence.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re an unofficial hunter,¡± she said, her tone unexpectedly serious.

    I glanced at her, studying her expression. She was hard to read¡ªplayful one moment, dead serious the next. Her unpredictability made her dangerous, but also intriguing.

    Selena Fair was a wildcard. In the original story, she¡¯d joined countless organizations in her endless search for her soulmate, only to betray them when her interests shifted. She¡¯d even ended up in the infamous Undead Troupe, though she eventually turned on them too.

    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªwould she eventually betray me?

    But then I remembered her unfinished backstory from the novel. She had a sister she cared about deeply, though I¡¯d never fleshed out who that sister was. Maybe, in this world, fate had corrected my oversight.

    Maybe that sister was Leora.

    Well, not by blood. But still.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said finally, leaning back in the passenger seat. ¡°I¡¯m unofficial. But then, so are you.¡±

    Selena snorted, keeping her eyes on the road. ¡°Touch¨¦.¡±

    The hunter community had always been loosely structured. Being unlicensed didn¡¯t come with significant disadvantages if you knew how to play the game. The Hunter Association¡¯s resources were accessible with the right clout and connections, regardless of whether you held an official title. For me, the licensure exam was a means to an end¡ªa way to infiltrate the Association and bend its influence to my advantage.

    Leora¡¯s words echoed in my mind: Three years is a long time. She wasn¡¯t wrong. Our enemies wouldn¡¯t idle in that span. They¡¯d grow stronger, more organized, and more dangerous. My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen.

    Leora had sent me Stefan¡¯s number, along with a brief note: I¡¯ve let him know you¡¯ll be in touch.

    I quickly typed back, Okay, got it.

    ¡°Earth to Reynard,¡± Selena¡¯s voice cut in, sharp and playful. ¡°You look like you¡¯re plotting something big over there.¡±

    ¡°Just thinking,¡± I said, pocketing my phone.

    She gave me a side-eye glance. ¡°I don¡¯t trust the Association,¡± she said bluntly. ¡°I hate the idea of affiliating with them¡ªor their whole ¡®sharing aura knowledge with whoever wants it¡¯ thing. The mundane and hunter worlds should stay separate. What¡¯s next¡ªmilitarizing hunters?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°The government already tried that and failed. That¡¯s why the Association exists: to manage relations between hunters and mundanes. Like it or not, the lines are already blurred.¡± I paused, then added, ¡°If you¡¯re so against it, you don¡¯t have to come along.¡±

    Selena grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. ¡°Nah, your wife¡¯s orders. She wants me to babysit you. Not that I doubt you can handle yourself, but the exam lasts a week¡ªlong enough for something to go wrong. You could get killed in that time.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t wrong. The Elsewhere Cult wouldn¡¯t miss a chance to take me out, and the exam venue would be the perfect place for assassins to slip in unnoticed. Having backup wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    I¡¯d spent three months on intense aura training and barely a month applying it in real combat scenarios. Despite all the theory I¡¯d mastered, it wasn¡¯t enough. This licensure exam wasn¡¯t just a way into the Association¡ªit was a trial by fire, a chance to sharpen my skills and prove I belonged in this world.

    Strength in this world wasn¡¯t measured by neat, linear power levels. I had no way of gauging how strong I was compared to the other candidates. That uncertainty gnawed at me.

    ¡°Hey, Selena,¡± I said, breaking the silence. ¡°Any chance you can train me in combat during downtime?¡±

    Her lips curled into a teasing smirk. ¡°Oh, I can do so much more than that~!¡±

    I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t.¡±

    She laughed, but then her tone shifted, becoming more serious. ¡°So, you¡¯re not much on the practical combat side, huh? Makes sense if you¡¯re usually behind the scenes. You look like the type who gives orders. Maybe a Reader? No¡­ your technique¡¯s different. Trickster, maybe¡­ or Dealer? Hmmm¡­ Maker?¡±

    She was way off, but I let it slide when she almost got it right. Explaining my abilities wasn¡¯t something I was eager to do, especially to someone as unpredictable as Selena.

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± I asked, deflecting.

    Selena shrugged, her smirk returning. ¡°Not really. But if you want me to train you, I need to know what I¡¯m working with. Otherwise, I might accidentally kill you.¡±

    ¡°Good to know,¡± I muttered, though I wasn¡¯t sure if she was joking.

    We drove in silence for a while after that, the city gradually giving way to open highways. My thoughts wandered back to Leora and Leon. Three years felt impossibly far away, but I had no choice.

    Failure wasn¡¯t an option.

    We arrived at the exam venue just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The massive structure loomed ahead, its sleek, modern design contrasting sharply with the wilderness that surrounded it.

    Selena parked the car and hopped out, stretching like she¡¯d just run a marathon. ¡°Alright, boss. Ready to prove you¡¯re not a total fraud?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s find out,¡± I replied, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind me.

    The Hunter¡¯s Examination was about to begin.

    ~017

 018 Bargains & Boundaries

    XVIII

    Before we left, I found myself staring at my phone, hesitating. The plan forming in my mind felt like a gamble, but the stakes were high enough to justify it. After a long moment, I exhaled and dialed the number Leora had sent me.

    The line clicked, and a gruff but friendly voice answered. ¡°This is Stefan. You must be the Author.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I said. ¡°Leora mentioned she¡¯d spoken to you.¡±

    ¡°She did. So, what¡¯s on your mind?¡±

    I cut straight to the point. ¡°How do I become a Hunting Dog? From what I know, I¡¯d need a recommendation from an ex-member.¡±

    Selena, seated across from me, froze mid-scroll on her phone. Her eyes shot to mine, wide with disbelief. Her expression practically screamed, Are you insane?

    Stefan let out a low laugh. ¡°You want to volunteer? Haven¡¯t heard that one in years. Most people forget the recommendation system even exists. But I¡¯ll write you one. Thing is, you¡¯ll need to be an Association-licensed hunter first.¡±

    ¡°On my way to handle that,¡± I replied, powering down my phone and slipping it back into my pocket.

    The Hunting Dogs. They were a shadowy elite within the Hunter¡¯s Association, tasked with eliminating the most dangerous threats¡ªthe kind the Association couldn¡¯t allow to exist. These weren¡¯t your typical heroes; they were criminals, psychopaths, and the best hunters alive, all bound by one thing: absolute loyalty to the chairman. Most hunters didn¡¯t even know they existed, and those who did preferred to pretend otherwise.

    Selena raised an eyebrow, her skepticism almost palpable. ¡°You really think you¡¯re badass enough to join? I mean, I¡¯m not that suicidal¡ª¡±

    ¡°What? Thinking of backing out now?¡± I asked, genuinely curious.

    Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at me, eyes narrowing with reluctant concern. If she planned to stick to her promise to Leora and tail me as closely as she claimed, she¡¯d need to join the Dogs, too.

    ¡°Your wife used to work as a Hunting Dog,¡± she muttered, her tone laced with something close to resentment.

    ¡°I know,¡± I said quietly. It was something Leora probably didn¡¯t realize I knew, but I did.

    ¡°All the more reason you shouldn¡¯t join,¡± Selena snapped. ¡°The Dogs aren¡¯t the good guys. They don¡¯t have morals, and once you¡¯re in, there¡¯s no going back.¡±

    ¡°I would,¡± I said, my voice steady even as the weight of the words settled over me. ¡°My wife did, didn¡¯t she?¡±

    That shut her up. Selena¡¯s usual mischievous expression gave way to something else¡ªhesitation, maybe even doubt.

    The truth? I wasn¡¯t sure I believed myself either.

    I cracked open the car window, letting in a rush of cool air. ¡°Selena, you¡¯re strong enough to make it big in the hunter world,¡± I said, keeping my tone casual. ¡°Even the Hunting Dogs would find you a formidable opponent. But your lack of ambition is holding you back. And honestly? I could use all the help I can get¡ªand that includes you.¡±

    I understood why she reacted so strongly at the mention of the Dogs. Leora had practically grown up among them. Selena? Her father had been one of them, too¡ªa total jerk by all accounts, and worse, one of the Seven Extremes, the world¡¯s seven strongest hunters.

    ¡°This is a selfish request,¡± I admitted, my voice softening. ¡°But I hope you can guard my back, Selena.¡±

    My ability thrived on having a partner. Without someone covering me, I¡¯d be as vulnerable as a sitting duck. I¡¯d considered Grue or Jacob, but Selena was someone Leora trusted, and that carried weight.

    She crossed her arms, eyeing me with suspicion. ¡°Are you thinking of asking the ¡®President¡¯ for a favor?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°I need protection for my family. Joining the Dogs could earn me that favor. The Elsewhere Cult has power I can¡¯t handle on my own. I need the Association¡¯s resources to deal with maniacs like them.¡±

    She scoffed, shaking her head. ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. If they¡¯re so strong, why haven¡¯t I heard of them before?¡±

    I met her gaze, unflinching. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many secret organizations are out there.¡±

    Her skepticism lingered, but she didn¡¯t press further. The conversation faded into silence as the cityscape blurred outside the car window. We were heading straight into the heart of the Association¡¯s testing grounds, and for better or worse, I was ready to see this through.

    Before stepping out of the car, I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a tarot card. Its face bore the image of The Moon, mysterious and serene. I handed it to Selena, who raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

    ¡°One of the twenty-two major arcana¡­ So, what? Are you going to predict my future?¡±

    ¡°Not quite,¡± I replied. ¡°I used my Maker State to imbue it with my mark.¡±

    She tilted her head, intrigued but skeptical.

    ¡°Recently,¡± I continued, ¡°I¡¯ve slowly begun to perceive my attributes. I call it the ¡®connection¡¯ attribute. It¡¯s a bit abstract, but the potential is enormous. I thought about using a bookmark, but a tarot card has more¡­ charm. With that card, I¡¯ll always know where you are¡ªwhether you¡¯re dead or alive. If you channel your aura into it, you can talk to me directly. It¡¯s a secure line, more reliable than any phone. No jamming, no hacking¡ªnot even aura-users can intercept it.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Selena stared at the card for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she slipped it into her pocket.

    I stepped out of the car, popped open the trunk, and retrieved my suitcase. Beside me, Selena tossed her car keys to a valet without a second glance. Together, we walked toward the imposing, antiquated building ahead of us.

    As we approached, Selena gave me a once-over, her lips twitching into a smirk. ¡°Are you really going in like that? You do know there¡¯s going to be fighting in the exam, right?¡±

    I adjusted my tie, feeling the slight weight of the reinforced layers beneath the fabric. ¡°I¡¯m fully aware. This suit isn¡¯t just for show¡ªit¡¯s armored. Besides, I look handsome as hell in it.¡±

    She rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t argue.

    The truth was, I¡¯d have preferred something with more flexibility¡ªshorts, maybe, or even workout gear. But this suit was the same one I¡¯d worn to the gala where I¡¯d eliminated several Elsewhere Cultists. If nothing else, it carried a certain gravitas.

    Inside, the building¡¯s cavernous interior swallowed us whole. The space was vast, its high ceilings and ornate architecture lending it an air of both grandeur and intimidation. The room was filled with people¡ªa diverse mix of aura-wielders glowing with latent power and mundanes who seemed entirely out of their depth. Easily over a hundred hopefuls were here for the exam.

    I approached the front counter, Selena trailing a step behind. A tired-looking clerk glanced up from his desk.

    ¡°I¡¯m here for the exam,¡± I said.

    The clerk handed me a pamphlet and a dauntingly long form. ¡°The exam starts in 30 minutes. Here¡¯s your pamphlet, and please fill this in.¡±

    I skimmed through the packet, which was part questionnaire, part waiver. The questions were tedious, clearly designed to psych out those who weren¡¯t serious. As for the waiver, it was pages of fine print absolving the Association of any responsibility should we die. I signed without hesitation and handed everything back.

    Stepping away from the line, I waited for Selena to finish her own paperwork. As I glanced around, someone bumped into me¡ªa burly man with a nasty scar running across his forehead. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the faint trace of controlled aura marked him as an unofficial hunter.

    ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, twat,¡± he snarled, his accent thick and grating.

    Normally, I¡¯d let someone like him walk away without a second thought. But as he brushed past, I felt it¡ªa subtle shift in my aura, a lightness in my pocket. My wallet and phone were gone.

    I turned to him, my voice calm but sharp. ¡°You look like a brute, but it seems you¡¯re just a lowly thief. Give it back before you regret it.¡±

    He stopped, turning back to face me with a sneer. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    I met his glare without flinching. ¡°You heard me.¡±

    His aura rippled faintly¡ªa sign of his ability at work. I felt a flicker of amusement. He was using a ¡°misdirection¡± attribute, a clever technique for stealing without detection. Unfortunately for him, my connection attribute made it laughably easy to unravel his trick.

    With the faintest touch, my Soul Link activated, bridging our auras. Through the connection, I dissected his ability, understanding its mechanics in seconds.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± he growled, stepping closer. He loomed over me, easily a head taller, but his size didn¡¯t intimidate me.

    I smiled. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    In one fluid motion, I mimicked his misdirection technique. My hand brushed past his pocket, retrieving my wallet and phone¡ªalong with a little extra for my trouble.

    The brute snorted, apparently convinced he¡¯d won. He turned and stomped away, leaving me standing there with a smirk.

    Simpleton.

    Selena walked over, having witnessed the exchange. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Making friends already?¡±

    ¡°Just setting boundaries,¡± I replied, slipping my belongings back into my pocket.

    She chuckled softly. ¡°You¡¯re going to be fun to watch during this exam.¡±

    I glanced at the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes until the test began.

    ¡°Maybe we should kill time¡ª¡± The words barely left my mouth before a searing pain erupted in my chest. I dropped to one knee, spitting blood onto the cold marble floor.

    Selena leaned over, her expression shifting from mild amusement to sharp focus. ¡°That¡¯s nasty.¡±

    My vision blurred, but I caught sight of the burly guy I¡¯d just bumped into. He stood across the room with a smug smirk plastered on his face.

    ¡°What the hell is happening to me?¡± I rasped, my hands trembling as I checked for injuries. Nothing. No cuts, no bruises¡ªnothing visible to explain the agony coursing through me.

    Selena crouched beside me, her sharp eyes narrowing. ¡°Your lips are turning purple¡­ Must be poison. This looks familiar¡­¡±

    It was only then that I noticed Selena had changed outfits. She now wore a brown leather jacket over a fitted black tank top. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering green liquid.

    ¡°Drink this,¡± she said, unscrewing the cap and helping me tilt my head back to swallow the contents.

    I gagged at the bitter taste but forced it down. Selena guided me to a nearby table, her arm steadying me as my breathing slowed and the pain began to subside.

    ¡°That was an antidote,¡± she explained. ¡°An all-cure against poison, made from a rare cryptid and a mix of special herbs.¡±

    I coughed, still tasting blood in my mouth. ¡°An Anti-Poison¡­ I¡¯ve heard of it. Must have cost you a fortune.¡±

    She smirked, leaning against the table. ¡°Yep. Make sure to pay me back.¡± She winked, her tone teasing but her eyes watchful.

    I glanced back at the burly guy. He was staring at me with an infuriating leer, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

    Selena followed my gaze and crossed her arms. ¡°So, what¡¯s the moral lesson of the story?¡±

    I wiped my mouth and took a steadying breath. ¡°Always keep your guard up. Makes me wonder how he applied the poison, though. It¡¯s definitely not aura-based¡­¡±

    Selena nodded, her expression thoughtful. ¡°How¡¯d you figure that out?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m aura-sensitive,¡± I replied.

    ¡°Now, now, don¡¯t get butthurt,¡± she said, her tone mockingly sweet. ¡°He did it through skin contact. Probably when he picked your pocket earlier. Look at his pinky finger.¡±

    I squinted, noticing for the first time the faint gleam of a retractable needle on his pinky.

    Selena continued, her voice calm but cutting. ¡°He must have pricked you with it. The aura trick he used? That was just the distraction, not the delivery method.¡±

    ¡°You saw all that?¡± I asked, impressed despite myself.

    ¡°Oh, I did more than just see¡­¡± she said with a sly grin.

    Before I could ask what she meant, a commotion erupted across the room.

    The burly guy suddenly clutched his throat, his eyes wide with panic. He gasped for air, but blood began to pour from his nose, mouth, and even his pores. He collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony as a pool of crimson spread beneath him.

    People screamed, scattering away from the scene as staff members rushed to help.

    I turned to Selena, my stomach sinking. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t¡­¡±

    She shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Oh, I did.¡±

    It hit me like a punch to the gut. That could have been me.

    ¡°In the instant he pricked you,¡± she said, her voice low but smug, ¡°I stole his poison and used it on him.¡±

    I stared at her, equal parts horrified and awed. Selena was many things¡ªbrash, sarcastic, and reckless¡ªbut she was also scarily efficient when it came to handling threats.

    As the staff tried to contain the chaos, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a chill run down my spine. I¡¯d learned a valuable lesson today: in this world, trust was a luxury, and survival meant being two steps ahead¡ªor having someone like Selena watching your back.

    ¡°It looks like I still have a lot to learn.¡±

    ~018

 019 High Stakes

    XIX

    "Any ideas on what the test will be like?" I asked, testing Selena¡¯s knowledge.

    She arched a brow, the corners of her lips tugging upward. ¡°You tell me. Aren¡¯t you the Author?¡±

    I gave her a dry look. ¡°Just because I¡¯m an information broker doesn¡¯t mean I know everything.¡±

    Even with my meta-knowledge of the novel this world was based on, there was only so much I could predict. The exam might differ from how it played out ten years later in the timeline I knew, but the structure likely remained consistent.

    ¡°The exam takes place over several events, lasting anywhere from a week to a month,¡± I explained. ¡°There are eight stages. The first is an elimination round, and the remaining tests are thematic, each representing one of the Seven States: Fighter, Seeker, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader. To pass, you only need to complete half, but I plan to clear all of them.¡±

    Selena tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. ¡°At least you did your homework. Any particular reason you¡¯re so eager to clear them all?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aiming for a gold-tier hunter pass,¡± I replied.

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ambitious. I¡¯ll bite¡ªwhat¡¯s so special about that pass?¡±

    I leaned back slightly, thinking about how to put it. A regular hunter¡¯s license granted the basics: access to low-level resources and the freedom to operate within limited jurisdictions. It was a stable path, but not particularly exciting. Bronze and silver-tier passes were the norm, catering to those who wanted steady work without excessive risk.

    ¡°A gold-tier pass,¡± I began, ¡°opens doors. It gives you access to top-tier resources, rare intel, and high-paying contracts that go beyond the usual assignments. Gold-tier hunters can operate internationally, with jurisdiction that surpasses regional associations. They get first dibs on the best jobs, equipment, and recognition. It¡¯s the kind of pass that makes your name known¡ªand respected.¡±

    ¡°Or feared,¡± Selena added with a smirk. ¡°Okay, I think I understand.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I agreed. ¡°And it¡¯s not just about prestige. It would improve my standing within the Hunting Dogs.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± she said knowingly.

    The hunter ranking system was still in its infancy, the brainchild of the Hunter Association¡¯s current president. In the future, licenses would evolve into more sophisticated tiers beyond bronze, silver, and gold. For now, gold-tier was the pinnacle¡ªa prototype of what the system would eventually become.

    ¡°How many participants do you think there are?¡± I asked, glancing around the crowded lobby.

    Selena shrugged, feigning innocence. ¡°Oh, how should I know such sensitive data?¡±

    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ maybe you took a peek or something.¡±

    She smirked, crossing her arms. ¡°I mean, I do have very good eyes, but are you accusing me of something criminal?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re such a tease,¡± I said, grinning.

    Selena tilted her head, her smirk widening. ¡°Careful, your wife might get jealous.¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Just spill it.¡±

    ¡°Where do you want me to spill it?¡± she shot back, her tone dripping with mockery. ¡°And how wet do you like it, anyway?¡±

    I groaned inwardly. That one was on me.

    She chuckled, clearly enjoying my discomfort. ¡°Fine. I might¡¯ve taken a little run through their system while no one was looking. There are over twelve thousand participants. Apparently, this isn¡¯t the only lobby. And the passing rate? About 20%.¡±

    ¡°Twenty percent?¡± I echoed, my brows furrowing.

    ¡°Yup,¡± she said casually. ¡°Competition¡¯s gonna be tough. But hey, you wanted a gold-tier pass. High stakes, high rewards.¡±

    ¡°Fair point,¡± I muttered, scanning the sea of applicants around us.

    Selena gave me a sly grin. ¡°Better make sure you¡¯re more than just a pretty face in that suit. They¡¯ll eat you alive otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Good thing I¡¯ve got some bite to back it up,¡± I replied, straightening my jacket.

    Suddenly, the lobby fell silent. I glanced up, noticing that the clerks had disappeared. In their place, a massive jumbotron now hung overhead, its presence so seamless I hadn¡¯t even noticed the change. Aura abilities¡ªlikely a combination of Maker, Trickster, and Dealer¡ªhad been used to pull it off.

    The screen flickered to life, revealing the face of the Hunter Association¡¯s president. He was a plain-looking, middle-aged man with a shiny bald head, dull eyes, and a stubble that seemed like an afterthought. He wore a red cape, of all things, paired with a plain white shirt and shorts.

    ¡°Greetings, aspiring hunters!¡± he began, his deep voice booming through the hushed lobby.

    Despite his strange attire and unassuming demeanor, his presence was commanding in a way I found so in-character if him. Appearances could be deceiving; I knew better than to underestimate him.

    ¡°Welcome to the Hunter¡¯s Exam,¡± he continued, his dull eyes scanning the room as if he could see each of us individually. ¡°You¡¯re here because you think you¡¯re ready. I assure you, most of you are not.¡±

    A heavy silence settled over the crowd.

    ¡°Out of the twelve thousand applicants, only a small number will succeed. The path will be brutal, the tests designed to weed out the unworthy.¡± He paused, and for a brief moment, something fierce sparked in his otherwise lifeless gaze.

    ¡°For those who survive the first stage, let¡¯s see what you¡¯re truly made of. You have fifteen minutes to reach your designated training rooms. Good luck, and may the best hunters rise.¡±

    The screen went dark, and the murmur of voices quickly filled the lobby again.

    Selena shot me a sidelong glance. ¡°Well, this should be fun.¡±

    A shimmering series of letters made of aura flashed above my head, spelling out [Room B]. Above Selena¡¯s head, the aura spelled [Room A].If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°We can¡¯t have that, can we?¡± Selena said, smirking. ¡°How am I supposed to protect you if we¡¯re in separate rooms?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t necessarily have to protect me all the way,¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°Just save me if it looks like I¡¯m about to die.¡±

    Selena laughed, the sound light but edged with mischief. ¡°Nah, your wife would kill me if her hubby got hurt or something.¡±

    She stared up at the glowing aura above her, and to my surprise, it shifted to [Room B]. Behind us, a few shouts erupted as others noticed their own markers had changed, switching to [Room A] instead. Without missing a beat, Selena grabbed my wrist and started leading me toward the corridor marked for Room B.

    I raised an eyebrow at her little trick but didn¡¯t resist. ¡°So, swapping aura markers now?¡± I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you were that interested in keeping me company.¡±

    Selena glanced back, grinning. ¡°Please, I just don¡¯t feel like explaining to your wife how her husband couldn¡¯t make it through the first round. Besides, these exams tend to have¡­ hazards.¡± Her grip on my wrist tightened as we weaved through the crowd.

    Around us, a few bewildered participants scratched their heads, staring up at the altered aura markers above them. Selena¡¯s skill with aura manipulation was unnervingly smooth, and she seemed to relish stirring up a little chaos.

    When we finally entered Room B, the space was lined with steel plates, their gaps filled with fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow. A giant LED screen on the wall displayed a counter that ticked upward as more participants filtered in. I kept my senses sharp, using my Soul Link to connect with the mundanes around me. I kept it subtle, avoiding detection, and only linked their auras without equalizing them.

    When the counter hit 500, a resonant voice filled the room. It wasn¡¯t just sound¡ªit was aura, unmistakable and commanding.

    ¡°Here are the rules,¡± the voice announced. ¡°Numero uno: No killing. We aren¡¯t barbarians. The killing will come later, so for the bloodthirsty idiots out there, have patience¡­ or you¡¯re disqualified. And in this room, disqualification means certain death. Maiming is allowed though¡­ Don¡¯t ask me, I don¡¯t make the rules. Also, no guns!

    ¡°Numero dos: Only the top 150 can proceed to the other stages. Once the counter falls to 150, the door will open. Immobilizing or knocking out your contenders is fair play.

    ¡°Numero tres: Don¡¯t try too hard, because you can try again next year. That¡¯s all. Now, on the count of ten¡­¡±

    Selena leaned closer, her voice low. ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do: hide. Let them fight each other and take it easy. Simple enough, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I have a better idea,¡± I said, grabbing her wrist. ¡°Let me borrow your attribute.¡±

    Her brow furrowed, but after a moment, she relented. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡±

    I connected her to the Soul Link and drew in her disguise attribute. ¡°I¡¯ll need your mental power too, so on my signal, transform us into clowns.¡±

    The announcer¡¯s voice continued counting down.

    ¡°Eight¡­ Seven¡­ Six¡­¡±

    I channeled the Soul Links, equalizing the aura of people I¡¯ve ¡®marked¡¯ in the room.

    ¡°Three¡­ Two¡­ One¡­ Go crazy, you lot!¡±

    I pulled Selena close. ¡°Now!¡±

    Instantly, a random numbter of mundanes, would-be hunters, and unofficial hunters in the room¡ªincluding us¡ªtransformed into clowns. Their appearances warped, complete with bright wigs, face paint, and exaggerated outfits. Selena and I blended into the chaos, slipping unnoticed into a corner.

    ¡°Selena, dispel our disguises,¡± I said quickly. ¡°Let¡¯s camouflage ourselves against the walls.¡±

    She nodded, and in moments, we were invisible, blending seamlessly with the steel panels.

    The scene before us was utter chaos.

    A burly man¡ªa likely unofficial hunter¡ªthrew a punch at a smaller participant wielding a sword. Nearby, a group of participants with unorthodox weapons ganged up on another contender. The wildest part? Most of the clowns were fighting each other, creating a tangled mess of limbs and weapons.

    Despite the rule against killing, it was clear dismemberment was fair game. Blood spattered across the steel floors, and the air was thick with grunts, shouts, and the occasional crack of bones.

    As the fight intensified, I noticed participants who sustained severe injuries vanishing in bursts of light¡ªteleported away, likely to a medical station. Another aura ability at work. The Hunter¡¯s Association wasn¡¯t holding back, but they were prepared to keep things under control.

    Selena nudged me lightly. ¡°This is more brutal than I expected,¡± she murmured, her voice barely audible.

    ¡°Better to watch and wait,¡± I replied. ¡°No need to draw attention to ourselves just yet.¡±

    We stayed pressed against the wall, invisible to the chaos unfolding in the room. I wasn¡¯t here to show off¡ªI was here to win. And with 500 participants reduced to 150, the real game was only just beginning.

    Selena''s voice broke the tense silence between us, tinged with disbelief. ¡°How did you do that?¡±

    I glanced at her, noting the way her sharp eyes darted over the battlefield of clowns, her expression a mixture of awe and unease.

    I leaned casually against the steel wall, keeping my voice low. ¡°Remember when I turned you into a little girl?¡±

    Selena¡¯s jaw tightened, and her gaze snapped back to me. ¡°Yeah, I remember. And I also remember you promising never to do it again.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Relax, that¡¯s pretty much how I did it¡ªjust with less effort and weaker illusions this time.¡±

    Her glare sharpened. ¡°You know that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±

    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. ¡°Alright, alright. When we entered the lobby earlier, I used my ability to ¡®tether¡¯ my aura to as many people as possible. That¡¯s the gist of it.¡±

    Selena frowned, clearly unsatisfied. ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. You¡¯re saying you connected to hundreds of people without anyone noticing?¡±

    No need to explain the finer points of my ability or the delicate intricacies of Soul Link. ¡°Tethering¡± sounded simpler than the reality. Soul Link required physical contact to establish a connection, which made using it on so many people a delicate operation. But my aura pool wasn¡¯t large or flashy¡ªperfect for slipping under the radar.

    While we had mingled in the crowded lobby, I had subtly brushed past participant after participant, sneaking my Soul Link into as many of them as I could. The trick was to make it unnoticeable, a faint thread rather than a bold connection. By the time the elimination round started, I¡¯d tethered myself to enough people to tip the scales.

    Selena crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. ¡°And the aura markers? How¡¯d you pull that off?¡±

    Oh, she noticed that.

    I just copied how she changed her own marker [Room A] into [Room B], just on a larger scale.

    ¡°That¡¯s where the fun began,¡± I said, my tone light despite the tension in the room. ¡°Once I had them linked, I switched their aura markers to force them into Room B. That¡¯s why there are so many¡­ colorful personalities in here.¡±

    Selena blinked, her expression shifting from confusion to realization. She glanced at the chaos around us¡ªa tangled mess of clowns, each more aggressive and disoriented than the last.

    The result of my handiwork was playing out beautifully. The participants I had tethered were now a bunch of murderous clowns¡ªliterally¡ªeither too pissed, too trigger-happy, or too distracted to focus. By tweaking their aura markers and throwing them into a shared room, I¡¯d turned their instincts against them. Without a clear read on each other¡¯s auras, they were unable to identify threats or form alliances.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it¡¯s a bit of a mess,¡± I said, watching as one particularly burly clown swung a massive hammer at a group of smaller clowns armed with throwing knives.

    Selena gave me a sidelong glance. ¡°A bit? This is a circus of chaos. You¡¯re telling me you orchestrated this just to thin the competition?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just how the cookie crumbled, I guess,¡± I replied, grinning. ¡°The rules said only 150 can pass. I figured, why not let them eliminate each other while we sit back and enjoy the show?¡±

    She stared at me for a moment, then shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. ¡°You¡¯re dangerous, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Dangerous? Me?¡± I feigned innocence. ¡°I¡¯m just a guy with a knack for efficiency.¡±

    A loud crash drew our attention back to the battlefield. A particularly large clown, wielding a chainsaw, was carving a path through the chaos, sending others scrambling to avoid him.

    Selena¡¯s smile faded. ¡°We¡¯re not exactly safe here, you know.¡±

    I nodded, my tone turning serious. ¡°True. But as long as we stay hidden and let them exhaust themselves, we¡¯ll be fine. No need to jump into the fray unless absolutely necessary.¡±

    The two of us remained pressed against the wall, camouflaged by Selena¡¯s ability. Around us, the chaos raged on, clowns fighting clowns in a brutal free-for-all.

    As I watched the scene unfold, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. My plan had worked better than I¡¯d expected. By tethering myself to so many participants and subtly altering their aura markers, I¡¯d sown confusion and chaos, ensuring that the strongest¡ªor at least the smartest¡ªwould survive.

    Selena nudged me again, her voice low. ¡°You know this is going to make us targets later, right? When they figure out what happened¡­¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Let them. By then, we¡¯ll be too far ahead for them to catch up.¡±

    She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. ¡°But I¡¯m also getting us to the next stage. So sit tight and enjoy the show.¡±

    ¡°I think I like you,¡± added Selena. ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d be boring.¡±

    That made me shut up real good.

    ~019

 020 Selenaâ€™s Dilemma

    XX

    Selena¡¯s pulse raced, her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage. She clenched her fists, willing it to calm. Holy shit. Holy shit!

    She glanced at Reynard, his thick arm wrapped protectively around her as chaos unfolded before them. The room was a battlefield, mundanes clashing with brutal intensity, blows exchanged, weapons wielded with reckless abandon. Yet Reynard stood calm, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos, unbothered by the carnage.

    Selena gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus on maintaining their camouflage. Her aura flared subtly, blending them into the steel wall behind them, hiding them from view. She shouldn¡¯t have been this distracted¡ªnot by him, not now.

    Get a grip, Selena, she scolded herself. She was supposed to be Reynard¡¯s bodyguard, but here she was, fighting the ridiculous flutter in her chest.

    She stole a glance at him, noting his composed demeanor. His calm confidence only made her heart beat faster. Damn it, Leora was right. He really does have ¡°natural rizz.¡± At the time, Selena had thought Leora was exaggerating. Now, with Reynard so close, she understood exactly what her friend meant.

    When the chaos finally quieted and the counter hit 150, the room fell into a tense calm. Selena let out a breath, releasing the camouflage. She felt the weight of Reynard¡¯s gaze and turned to see him looking down at her, one brow raised.

    ¡°You can let go now,¡± he said plainly.

    It was only then that Selena realized she was clinging to his waist. Her face burned as she quickly let go. ¡°My bad¡­¡± she muttered, looking away.

    Reynard chuckled softly. ¡°I¡¯m fine. No need to be that overzealous with the bodyguarding.¡±

    Selena swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. ¡°Just doing my job,¡± she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

    But deep down, she couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of envy. Leora had truly lucked out. Reynard wasn¡¯t just handsome; he was everything Selena admired in a partner¡ªsteady, reliable, and sharp.

    She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. This isn¡¯t the time for daydreaming.

    The sharp crack of gunfire snapped her back to reality. A rapid burst of shots echoed through the room, the bullets slicing through the air toward them. Selena¡¯s instincts kicked in instantly.

    ¡°I got you!¡± she shouted, lunging forward. She grabbed Reynard and pulled him close, her aura flaring as she created a scattering of afterimages. Ghostly replicas of them sprinted in different directions, confusing their attacker.

    She guided them back to the wall, pressing them flat against the steel plates as the shots hit nothing but flickering illusions. Breathing heavily, Selena kept her focus on their camouflage, her grip still tight around Reynard.

    ¡°You okay?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

    Reynard nodded, his expression calm despite the chaos. ¡°Yeah¡­ Thanks to you.¡±

    Selena felt her face heat up again. Stop looking at me like that! she thought, her heart betraying her once more.

    From across the room, the gunman sneered as he reloaded. His wild, desperate eyes locked onto Reynard, rage burning in his gaze.

    ¡°I saw it was you who pulled that stupid trick!¡± he spat, his voice shaking with fury. ¡°You¡¯re dead! I¡¯ll kill you, motherfucker!¡±

    Selena narrowed her eyes, sensing the faint shift in the gunman¡¯s aura. He¡¯s recently awakened¡­ a Seeker type, she realized. Somehow, the gunman was able to track Reynard despite their disguise. But more troubling was the gun in his hands¡ªhow had he smuggled it past the Association¡¯s checks?

    Before she could act, the announcer¡¯s voice boomed through the room, chillingly calm. ¡°Guns are prohibited in this exam,¡± it declared.

    The gunman froze, his sneer faltering. He clutched his head, his face twisting in pain.

    ¡°It hurts! My head¡ª¡± he screamed, clawing at his temples as blood trickled from his nose and eyes.

    Selena winced but didn¡¯t look away. In an instant, the man¡¯s head exploded, blood and fragments splattering across the floor. The room fell silent, the brutal display a stark reminder of the Association¡¯s authority.

    Selena¡¯s stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral. She glanced at Reynard, who remained steady, his face unreadable.

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± he murmured, his voice low. ¡°There¡¯ll be more like him.¡±

    Selena nodded, steeling herself. ¡°Right. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    As they slipped through the room, she couldn¡¯t help but glance at Reynard again. Despite everything, he seemed completely unshaken.

    He¡¯s one of a kind, she thought, a pang of longing tightening in her chest. Maybe someday¡­

    ¡°Nah¡­¡±

    ¡°What is that?¡± asked Reynard.¡±

    ¡°Nothing, pretty boy.¡±

    Selena¡¯s breath hitched as a memory surfaced, vivid and unwelcome. She saw herself as a child, stumbling through the dense, punishing terrain of the Hunting Dogs Initiative training camp. The drills had been brutal, the aura training relentless. Her father had insisted it was the only way to survive, to thrive in a world that rewarded strength above all else.

    It was there, in that cold, merciless environment, that she had met Leora. Recently orphaned, Leora had been just as lost and bitter as Selena. The shared hardship forged a bond between them, one that felt more like sisterhood than mere friendship.Stolen novel; please report.

    But Selena hadn¡¯t lasted. One night, overwhelmed by the suffocating control of the camp and the Association, she escaped. Her departure wasn¡¯t without consequence¡ªshe¡¯d traded a future of discipline for a life of crime, staying as far from the Association¡¯s reach as possible. Yet here she was now, back in its grasp, navigating an exam designed to test not only her skills but her resolve.

    The faint hum of sliding steel jolted her back to the present. Behind them, the walls shifted, revealing an unmarked door. Selena¡¯s concentration wavered, and the camouflage she¡¯d been maintaining dissolved. Startled, she stiffened, her instincts screaming for action.

    A firm hand rested on her shoulder, grounding her. ¡°I got your back,¡± Reynard said, his voice steady and calm.

    Selena exhaled, the tension easing slightly as she met his gaze. ¡°And I¡¯ve got yours, too.¡±

    Their exchange was brief, an unspoken understanding passing between them before they turned their attention to the newly revealed passage. Intense aura radiated from beyond the doorway, the kind that set Selena¡¯s nerves on edge. Whatever lay ahead promised to be even more treacherous than the chaos they had just survived.

    ¡°Proceed forward,¡± commanded the disembodied voice, cold and authoritative.

    Selena and Reynard stepped into the narrow, darkened corridor, joining the remaining contestants. The path felt shorter than expected, the oppressive darkness amplifying every sound. Selena felt Reynard¡¯s hand brush against hers, his grip reassuring as he whispered, ¡°I¡¯ve got sharper senses in the dark. Let me guide us.¡±

    Trusting him, she followed his lead, grateful for the subtle but confident way he navigated the crowded passage. Soon, they emerged into a brightly lit chamber. The sudden flood of light stung Selena¡¯s eyes, and she blinked rapidly to adjust.

    Her stomach sank when she realized how few people stood around them. The room was nearly empty compared to the mob that had filled the previous stages.

    The voice from before returned, now laced with a mocking edge. ¡°Congratulations on surviving the second stage! And don¡¯t worry¡ªthey aren¡¯t dead!¡±

    Selena glanced at Reynard, his expression unreadable, though his sharp gaze swept the room. She followed his lead, studying the faces of the remaining contestants. Weariness and uncertainty marked every expression, a silent testament to the ordeal they¡¯d all endured.

    ¡°How many didn¡¯t make it?¡± she murmured, more to herself than to Reynard.

    ¡°Enough to remind us this is no ordinary test,¡± he replied, his voice calm but firm. ¡°But everything so far has been manageable. It¡¯s just another layer of the game.¡±

    The announcer¡¯s voice interrupted again, casual yet sinister. ¡°You¡¯ve just passed the Trickster Stage! Now, wait for the next phase¡­ The others are a bit slow. So loosen up, people¡ªmake friends or something!¡±

    Selena exchanged a wary glance with Reynard, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Around them, the remaining contestants shifted uneasily. Some whispered in hushed tones, while others stood apart, scanning the room like predators sizing up prey.

    Selena leaned closer to Reynard, keeping her voice low. ¡°Trickster Stage, huh? I knew the Association¡¯s exams were tough, but this is something else.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re testing more than skills,¡± Reynard said, his tone measured. ¡°They want to see how we handle uncertainty, who we align with, and how we read the game.¡± His gaze lingered on a small group huddled near the wall, their conversation guarded. ¡°Everyone¡¯s calculating. Allies, threats¡­ This is a test of trust as much as ability.¡±

    Selena crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°Friends or foes, it doesn¡¯t matter. No one here is as reliable as you.¡±

    Reynard smirked faintly, a flicker of warmth breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. ¡°That makes two of us. But we¡¯ll still need to make friends.¡±

    Selena¡¯s retort was cut short as the lights flickered, dimming briefly. A figure emerged from the crowd, moving with a calm, deliberate stride. Selena tensed, instinctively shifting closer to Reynard.

    The woman stopped a few paces away, her posture relaxed but purposeful. ¡°I¡¯m Sarah,¡± she said, nodding to them both. ¡°Mind if I join you?¡±

    Selena glanced at Reynard, who gave the faintest shrug, leaving the decision to her. Forcing a polite smile, Selena nodded. ¡°Sure,¡± she said cautiously.

    Allies were one thing, but trust was another matter entirely.

    Sarah tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. ¡°What are you? An item?¡± she asked, her tone laced with playful skepticism.

    Selena let out a snort, unable to suppress her amusement. ¡°I wish!¡± she quipped, crossing her arms.

    Reynard, standing between them, shook his head with a faint smile. ¡°I¡¯m already married,¡± he said, his tone light but final.

    Selena caught Sarah¡¯s brief reaction¡ªa flicker of something unreadable before she quickly masked it. Whatever the woman was thinking, Selena didn¡¯t trust her intentions, no matter how casually she acted.

    Reynard sighed, rolling his shoulders. ¡°I need to recover my aura. I¡¯ll rest for a bit.¡±

    Selena¡¯s instincts kicked in immediately. ¡°I¡¯ve got your back,¡± she offered, her voice steady.

    But Reynard shook his head firmly. ¡°No, you can¡¯t.¡±

    Without waiting for her protest, he sat down and reclined on his back as if he were preparing to sleep. Closing his eyes, he folded his hands over his chest and settled into what looked like a meditative state.

    Seriously?

    Selena couldn¡¯t help but chuckle softly at the sight. Reynard was always so composed, even when the situation called for anything but. She decided to make herself comfortable too. Shrugging off her leather jacket, she slipped on a denim one, a lighter choice that matched the strange, simmering tension of their surroundings.

    The boredom crept in quickly. Her fingers itched for something to do, so she unshrunk the smartphone she had hidden within her bracelet, a neat little trick thanks to her special ability, miniaturization. It was an incredibly convenient power, allowing her to stash and retrieve items with ease. The phone buzzed to life in her hand, and she connected to the bounty tracker app.

    Her gaze flicked toward Reynard as she scrolled. The bounty on his head had been steadily increasing, climbing higher each day. Selena sighed, the number on the screen a grim reminder of why she was here. Leora¡¯s desperate call had replayed in her mind more times than she cared to admit. Her friend had begged her to take on this bodyguard assignment, worried sick about Reynard¡¯s safety. And now, here she was¡ªprotecting a married man while her own search for her soulmate was put on hold.

    Her soulmate.

    The thought made her chest tighten. Her bloodline demanded she find the one destined for her soon, or face a fate she barely understood. What that fate entailed, no one could¡ªor would¡ªtell her. But time was running out, and every moment spent guarding Reynard felt like a detour from her own destiny.

    If Reynard hadn¡¯t been married, Selena might have considered him her soulmate. He was calm, reliable, and had an unshakable presence that steadied her in ways few others could. But Leora had found him first, and the bond they shared was undeniable. Selena shook the thought away, knowing it wasn¡¯t worth dwelling on.

    Her eyes returned to the tracker. She¡¯d done her own digging into the bounty¡¯s origins, and the timeline matched suspiciously well with recent events¡ªa series of disappearances involving wealthy moguls and whispers of a covered-up massacre at a gala out west. It reeked of hunter business.

    The most troubling piece of evidence? The involvement of someone called ¡°The Author.¡± There was only one person she knew who went by that name.

    Selena¡¯s gaze flicked back to Reynard, who now let out a faint snore. A soft smile tugged at her lips despite the seriousness of her thoughts. Did he even know about the bounty? Or the storm that seemed to be gathering around him?

    Moments later, Reynard stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He stretched, his movements slow and deliberate as he stood.

    Selena raised an eyebrow, smirking. ¡°How is it? Did you just doze off?¡±

    Reynard¡¯s lips twitched into a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s called a half-sleep state. It lets me recover my aura and clear mental fatigue.¡±

    Selena tilted her head, skeptical. ¡°Is that even a real thing?¡±

    He chuckled softly. ¡°Probably not. But for some reason, it works¡­ and that¡¯s what matters.¡±

    Selena shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her. Trust Reynard to come up with something like that. Practicality over logic¡ªanother thing Leora probably admired about him.

    ~020

 021 Conquer the Territory

    XXI

    When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that Sarah hadn¡¯t attacked me yet. That was¡­ surprising. I¡¯d been fully prepared to lose an arm taking her down if she tried anything.

    I sat up, stretching out the stiffness in my limbs, and let my gaze fall on her. Sarah Halim, a vision of both danger and allure, stood a short distance away, her presence impossible to ignore. She had curly dark hair that framed her face beneath a veil, and her attire was reminiscent of an ancient Egyptian dancer¡ªalbeit with a modern, provocative twist.

    A loosely wrapped scarf hung around her hips, its gauzy fabric teasing the form beneath. Her top, deep purple silk adorned with golden accents, clung to her curves and left a sliver of her toned belly exposed. Golden rings, bracelets, and a circlet across her brow added to the mystique, accentuating the warm tones of her chocolate-brown skin. Her blue-gray eyes, the only part of her face visible above the veil, shimmered with intent, an aura of quiet power surrounding her like a second skin.

    Soft bells chimed with every movement she made, a delicate sound that belied the strength I knew she possessed. She was a member of the Undead Troupe, after all. Dangerous, unpredictable, and yet, undeniably useful. I¡¯d kept her identity to myself. Selena didn¡¯t need to know who she really was¡ªat least, not yet.

    Still, her presence here intrigued me.

    I inclined my head slightly, placing my hand on my chest in an old, formal gesture. Her eyes widened for a brief moment, a flicker of recognition breaking through her carefully composed mask. Then, just as quickly, her expression hardened, her gaze sharpening as I rose from the bow.

    ¡°It is an honor, truly,¡± I said, my tone light but laced with subtle meaning. ¡°A lady of your standing gracing us with her presence¡ª¡±

    She cut me off with a dismissive wave, irritation flashing in her eyes. ¡°A commoner,¡± she corrected, her voice cool and detached. ¡°There¡¯s no need for unnecessary pleasantries. My status is nothing in this world; I¡¯m just another face, another aspiring member of this¡­ Association.¡± The word dripped with disdain, as though it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

    I couldn¡¯t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. ¡°If that¡¯s what you wish to believe,¡± I said, letting a playful note slip into my voice. ¡°But we both know you¡¯re far from ¡®just another face.¡¯ The Undead Troupe chose you for a reason, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    Her eyes narrowed, and I caught a flicker of annoyance¡ªor perhaps resignation. She must have realized just how much I knew about her. The Troupe went to great lengths to obscure their members¡¯ identities, which meant she hadn¡¯t expected me to recognize her.

    ¡°The Troupe,¡± she murmured, her gaze sliding away from mine. ¡°We all have our parts to play, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°And what role are you playing now, exactly?¡± I asked, feigning casual curiosity.

    Her eyes snapped back to mine, dark and unyielding. ¡°I¡¯d tell you,¡± she said, stepping closer, the faint aura around her growing more tangible, ¡°but then you¡¯d be in deeper than you¡¯re prepared to go.¡± The bells at her waist jingled softly, and her voice took on a teasing lilt. ¡°You are cute, by the way.¡±

    A warning, cloaked in flirtation. Classic Troupe behavior. But her attempt to deflect only confirmed a few things for me.

    First, my mention of the Troupe had caught her off guard. Their secrecy was paramount, which meant they were still operating in the shadows, likely recruiting and expanding.

    Second, she was here to recruit me.

    And third¡ªperhaps most revealing¡ªthe Troupe was no longer aligned with the Elsewhere Cult. If they were, Sarah wouldn¡¯t be trying to charm me; she¡¯d have resorted to blackmail or worse.

    Her next words proved my theory. ¡°What do you think about joining the Troupe, handsome?¡±

    I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your time. And you can stop the flirting. I told you¡ªI¡¯m already married.¡±

    Her gaze shifted to Selena, who had been lingering just out of earshot, watching us with a mix of curiosity and unease. Sarah¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, and a knowing smile spread across her lips.

    Selena, catching the look, turned bright red. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± she stammered, her voice pitching higher. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not his wife! Not the one he¡¯s talking about, anyway!¡±

    Her flustered reaction only seemed to amuse Sarah further. ¡°Not the one he¡¯s talking about, hmm?¡± she mused, glancing between us. ¡°Well, it seems I¡¯m late to the party on more than one front.¡±

    I sighed¡­

    ¡°Stop causing misunderstandings for me, Selena¡­¡±

    The announcer¡¯s voice crackled back to life, booming overhead. ¡°Hope you folks are well-rested, because the next stage is gonna be a doozy. Welcome to the Third Stage¡ªthe Dealer Stage!¡±

    The walls around us began to rumble, crumbling in a cascade of dust and stone. As they fell away, they revealed that we were in a larger, enclosed arena, far grander and more imposing than where we¡¯d been moments ago. It reminded me all too much of the elimination round, with high steel and concrete walls.

    Other contenders emerged from their own boxes scattered across the arena floor, each one looking as disoriented as we were. Some wore expressions of grim determination, others just barely concealed the flicker of fear in their eyes. This stage had a new intensity to it, something more daunting and visceral¡­

    The announcer¡¯s disembodied voice echoed around the arena, giving the impression it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. ¡°Let¡¯s play a game I call Conquer the Territory! A hundred circles have been laid and hidden out across the floor, and they will shut down every five minutes. But worry not, for more will spawn in another five minutes,¡± the voice explained, each word dripping with the thrill of a challenge. ¡°If a team of five manages to stay within one of these circles for a full five minutes, they¡¯ll advance to the next stage! Be reminded, I will be playing this game too¡­¡±

    I scanned the arena floor, my eyes locking onto the faintly glowing circles scattered across the expanse. Some were close to us, others sprawled further away, but every single one pulsed like a countdown, marking where safety¡ªand progress¡ªawaited.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The announcer continued, excitement creeping into their voice. ¡°Teams, you¡¯ll need coordination, balance, and some sharp strategy if you hope to hold your ground. There are no freebies here. And for those without a team¡­ well, you¡¯re at a disadvantage, but remember, five¡¯s the magic number.¡±

    Sarah arched an eyebrow at me, clearly entertained by the setup. ¡°Hope you have some friends in mind, handsome. That five-minute clock won¡¯t go easy on stragglers.¡±

    I cast a glance at Selena, then at the swarm of contenders moving into defensive stances around us, assessing their own teammates. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have shown up without one or two,¡± I replied, giving a half-smile to throw her off guard. But the truth was, this was going to be a problem. Five was a lot more than the two of us.

    The announcer¡¯s voice returned, sharper now, full of energy. ¡°In the count of ten¡ªprepare yourselves! Make your alliances if you haven¡¯t already. Time waits for no one!¡±

    I felt my pulse quicken. We¡¯d have seconds to find a group and claim a circle, seconds to make alliances in a place where loyalty was as fickle as luck.

    Nine.

    I spotted a couple of contenders nearby who looked equally on edge but potentially willing.

    Eight.

    ¡°Think you¡¯re ready to play team, Sarah?¡± I asked, keeping my voice steady but feeling the tension rise.

    She gave a sly grin, shrugging her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m nothing but adaptable.¡±

    Seven.

    I turned to Selena, giving her a quick nod. ¡°Stay close.¡±

    Six.

    The arena began to feel smaller as contenders sized each other up, forming quick partnerships and staking their claim over circles in every corner.

    Five.

    A circle pulsed nearby, just a few feet away¡ªempty, unclaimed, and within reach. I pointed to it, giving Sarah and Selena a look that said I wasn¡¯t waiting.

    We reached the circle just as the countdown hit zero, managing to dodge and weave through the frenzied crowd of hunters. I brushed against as many of them as I could, feeling the slight tingle as I made the necessary physical contact for my power. Then, with a steadying breath, I activated my Soul Link. Our auras linked seamlessly, their frequencies aligning and harmonizing until a series of near-identical aura signatures rippled across the battlefield, each an echo of the other, almost impossible to distinguish.

    Sarah snapped her finger cymbals together, their sharp metallic chime slicing through the noise of the crowd. In an instant, a barrier of wind and sound swirled around us, creating a shimmering veil that muffled outside noise and distorted the air. It would ward off any blunt attacks and prevent others from slipping into our circle without a fight.

    Beside me, Selena clapped her hands in a focused, ritualistic rhythm¡ªthree sharp claps, resonating through the air. As she finished, I noticed a faint shimmer settling over us like a veil. She gave a quick nod, her eyes alight with satisfaction.

    ¡°We¡¯re invisible¡ªand forgettable,¡± she said with a sly smile, her voice soft but confident. ¡°Anyone looking in our direction won¡¯t be able to pinpoint us. We might as well be shadows.¡±

    ¡°Impressive work,¡± I replied, surveying our cloaked space.

    We were layered with defenses now: my aura replication to throw off trackers, Sarah¡¯s barrier to block any physical entry, and Selena¡¯s cloaking spell to keep us hidden in plain sight. We¡¯d made ourselves the perfect mirage.

    I could see some of the other contenders darting glances in our direction, their confusion clear as their eyes skated over our circle, then moved on, unable to lock onto us. The beauty of Selena¡¯s spell was that it didn¡¯t make us entirely invisible; it simply nudged anyone¡¯s mind who looked at us to keep moving, to look elsewhere, as if they¡¯d forgotten what they were seeking in the first place.

    We got lucky big time¡­

    The countdown timer began its slow, grinding five-minute descent. An aura projection appeared over our heads. I could feel the tension mounting as other contenders scrambled to hold their circles against encroaching enemies. Shouts, clashes, and bursts of energy flared across the arena, but we remained untouched, undisturbed within our protective cocoon.

    Sarah glanced over at me. ¡°So any ideas what¡¯s next?¡±

    I shifted my weight slightly, the glow of our circle pulsing faintly beneath us. Around the arena, chaos raged as contenders clashed, some fighting tooth and nail to secure their spots while others roamed in search of easier prey.

    ¡°We have two choices as of this moment,¡± I began, keeping my voice calm and measured. ¡°We invite two more players into our circle, or we hold down the fort as it is. Picking the first option bolsters our strength, gives us more numbers to fend off attacks. But the second allows us to maximize our stealth and avoid drawing attention.¡±

    Selena, standing just to my right, didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I¡¯d rather we keep this up. More isn¡¯t necessarily better. The three of us are enough as long as we stay alert. If someone tries to attack, we neutralize them from a distance. If our stealth gets broken, that¡¯s when we consider increasing our numbers. Most contenders here came solo anyway, so we can¡¯t expect much teamwork from them.¡±

    I nodded in agreement. ¡°Fair point. Fewer people means fewer risks.¡±

    Sarah¡¯s lips curved into a small, teasing smile beneath her veil. ¡°How about the range? I don¡¯t mean to be a critic, but ranged-type abilities are rather rare. What¡¯s the plan if we need to fend off attackers before they get too close?¡±

    Selena crossed her arms, her expression cool but confident. ¡°I have guns with me.¡±

    I arched a brow. ¡°Guns were banned in this exam, Selena.¡±

    She smirked, shrugging. ¡°Not exactly. I have a water gun that can be reloaded with acid.¡±

    Sarah chuckled, her bells jingling softly as she adjusted the scarf around her hips. ¡°Creative, but still technically a gun. What about you, Reynard? Got any tricks for long-range fights?¡±

    I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head. ¡°Nothing that wouldn¡¯t give away our position. Besides, I¡¯d rather not risk disqualification because of a technicality.¡±

    Sarah raised her hands in mock surrender, her smile widening. ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯m a Caster, so I can pick off threats from a distance, but it would be nice to have more ranged options. Just in case.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll manage,¡± I said, scanning the arena again. The chaos hadn¡¯t subsided; if anything, it was intensifying. Contenders were becoming more desperate, some forming alliances while others broke down into infighting. A few circles had already dimmed, their occupants forced out or eliminated.

    Selena glanced at me, her voice quieter now. ¡°What¡¯s the plan if someone does find us?¡±

    ¡°Neutralize quickly, efficiently, and without breaking the stealth,¡± I replied. ¡°We¡¯ve got three minutes left to hold this circle. Let¡¯s not complicate things.¡±

    Sarah nodded, her bells chiming faintly as she shifted her stance. ¡°Sounds like a plan. I¡¯ll keep an eye on the perimeter.¡±

    Selena and I exchanged a quick look, her expression firm but calm. She clapped her hands softly, refreshing the shimmering veil around us. It flickered for a moment before settling into place, cloaking us from view and subtly nudging away any prying eyes.

    The tension in the air was palpable now. The countdown in my head ticked away, each second dragging longer than the last. I could feel the ripple of auras brushing against ours as other contenders moved closer, their movements erratic and charged with nervous energy.

    I caught a flicker of motion to our left¡ªa group of three heading toward our circle. They were cautious, their eyes scanning the ground for unclaimed spots. One of them, a wiry man with glowing hands, paused for a moment, his gaze lingering in our direction.

    ¡°Selena,¡± I murmured, keeping my voice low. ¡°We¡¯ve got company.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond, but her hands moved quickly, weaving another layer of protection over our circle. Sarah raised her fingers, the faint hum of energy building around her as she prepared a spell.

    The wiry man took a step closer, his glowing hands illuminating the faint shimmer of our barrier. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring in his expression.

    Before he could take another step, Sarah snapped her finger cymbals together, the sharp chime slicing through the air. A burst of sound and wind erupted around us, forcing the man and his teammates to stumble back, their footing unsteady.

    ¡°Keep moving,¡± Sarah called out, her tone laced with warning. ¡°This circle¡¯s taken.¡±

    The man hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between us and his companions. But the shimmering barrier and the force of Sarah¡¯s spell were enough to dissuade him. With a muttered curse, he gestured for his team to retreat, and they moved on in search of easier prey.

    I let out a slow breath, my shoulders relaxing slightly. ¡°Good work.¡±

    Sarah smirked, lowering her hands.

    Selena gave a small nod, her focus still on maintaining the veil. ¡°Two minutes left. Let¡¯s stay sharp.¡±

    The countdown continued, the arena around us growing louder with the sounds of battle. But within our circle, we remained steady, a fortress of stealth and strategy.

    We were almost there.

    ~021

 022 Playing the Game

    XXII

    The announcer¡¯s voice crackled through the arena, dripping with sadistic glee. ¡°Also remember! Still no killing! The rules from Stage One remain in effect! Feel free to do whatever suits you, as long as you stay true to my rules!¡±

    I glanced at Sarah and Selena, keeping my voice firm. ¡°We hide and endure.¡±

    Neither of them argued.

    Turning my focus to our circle, I reached out with my senses, feeling the subtle shifts of energy that marked the boundaries of our territory. There were three others inside, and the auras radiating from the area gave me enough information to piece together the barrier¡¯s mechanics. It wasn¡¯t just a physical space¡ªit was an isolation field. Only five people could exist within it at any given time. If a sixth tried to enter, the barrier would reject them, forcing them out through sheer will of the rules. The territory belonged to the first five who claimed it, and if anyone was expelled, the boundary would reset, opening it up to new challengers.

    ¡°With the no-kill rule in effect, playing defensively is our best bet,¡± I murmured, my eyes fixed on the hunters circling just outside our barrier.

    We had carved out an isolated pocket within the chaos of the arena, blending into the melee with Selena¡¯s impeccable concealment skills. She¡¯d shrouded us in a nearly imperceptible veil, her aura work precise and practiced. Sarah had added an additional layer with her barrier, though it wasn¡¯t as seamless¡ªit might not hold up to close scrutiny. For now, though, we were lucky. The other hunters were too busy fighting over nearby circles to notice us.

    Selena leaned in, her voice a whisper. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s safe to stay passive like this the whole time?¡±

    I shook my head slightly, watching the frenzied combat beyond our veil. ¡°No. Someone¡¯s going to find us eventually. We¡¯re in a crowded space, and it¡¯s only a matter of time before someone gets curious or reckless.¡± I met their eyes, lowering my voice further. ¡°We need to eliminate nearby threats when the opportunity arises. Sitting back isn¡¯t an option.¡±

    As if on cue, Sarah raised her hand, her wrist flicking in a subtle motion.

    I watched as an aura formed¡ªa translucent bubble of pressurized air that floated toward a nearby contender, a mundane caught in the middle of the chaos. He didn¡¯t even notice it until it enveloped him like a silent trap.

    The effect was swift and brutal. The air around him thinned, and his face turned pale as he gasped for breath. His knees buckled, his movements slowing as panic overtook him. Within seconds, his body went limp, collapsing unconscious from oxygen deprivation. Sarah didn¡¯t let it go far enough to kill him, but the satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable.

    She turned to me with a faint smirk. ¡°Consider that a preview.¡±

    Selena shifted uneasily beside me, but I nodded, meeting Sarah¡¯s gaze with steady approval. ¡°Effective,¡± I said calmly. ¡°We¡¯ll need every edge if we want to hold this territory.¡±

    It was time to send a message¡ªnot just to Sarah, but to the Troupe she represented. If they ever considered using me as a pawn or a tool, I wanted them to hesitate. Personal strength was a kind of currency no one dared undervalue.

    I turned to Sarah, extending my hand. ¡°May I?¡± I asked, tilting my head in a polite request.

    Her brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in her sharp eyes.

    Before she could answer, Selena broke the tension with a teasing laugh. ¡°Reynard, seriously? You just met her, and you¡¯re already holding hands? Better hope your wife doesn¡¯t hear about this.¡± She arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence as she added, ¡°You know she won¡¯t take it well.¡±

    I shot Selena a sharp look. ¡°This is just a prerequisite for my ability. Believe me, it¡¯s nothing romantic.¡±

    Selena suppressed a laughter at my pathetic attempt to defend myself.

    Hiding the intricacies of one¡¯s abilities was common sense in this arena, but I wasn¡¯t one to shy away from revealing a sliver of mine¡ªespecially when the prerequisite was so blatantly obvious. Letting myself be hindered by this one minor weakness wasn¡¯t part of the plan.

    Sarah eyed me with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Her fingers twitched at her side, and I could tell she was weighing the risk of whatever I was about to do. After a moment of hesitation, she extended her hand toward mine. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, her tone sharp with caution. ¡°But fair warning: this comes with consequences. I don¡¯t take kindly to having my aura meddled with.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Noted.¡±

    Our fingers met, and I activated Soul Link, feeling the distinct pulse of her aura surge into me. Her essence was potent¡ªwild, untamed, and alive with the force of the wind. It mirrored the defiant edge she carried, sharp and unyielding. I concentrated, syncing our energies, equalizing our auras, and drawing on her wind attribute.

    The shift was immediate. Air currents seemed to gather beneath my skin, swirling with an eager readiness to be harnessed. I released her hand, allowing the borrowed portion of her aura to dissipate smoothly as our connection broke.

    Sarah¡¯s eyes widened, her usual composure faltering. She stared at me, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying her controlled demeanor. ¡°What¡­ did you just do?¡± she asked, her voice low and cautious.

    I gave her a slight smile, keeping my tone light. ¡°Consider it a brief exchange. I can borrow abilities if I link to someone¡¯s aura. It¡¯s a knack of mine.¡±

    Borrowing abilities¡ªthat was the simplest way to explain it. In truth, I could do far more. The wind attribute I¡¯d taken from Sarah didn¡¯t vanish after Soul Link faded. It lingered within me, like a second layer of potential, ready to be wielded. She probably assumed I¡¯d returned it entirely, but I held onto its essence, careful not to lose focus and let it slip away.

    Turning to Selena, I said, ¡°I need a bit more of your aura.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical but not questioning. Selena knew my limitations. My aura pool wasn¡¯t vast enough to handle prolonged fights without some creative resourcefulness. With a small sigh, she extended her hand, and I activated Soul Link again.

    Her aura flowed into me, expanding my reserves. I also took her disguise attribute, letting the energy twist and reimagine itself in my mind. Selena¡¯s technique was delicate and precise, but I had my own ideas. I envisioned an airless bubble, something suffocating yet deceptive.

    With a careful tweak, I adapted the disguise attribute to mask the source of the aura. Instead of appearing as my own, it would seem to radiate from someone else entirely. I cast the bubble with precision, targeting a hunter who¡¯d wandered too close to our territory.

    The air around him thinned, and he froze, gasping for breath. His face contorted in panic as he looked around, his gaze locking onto another hunter nearby. Fury flickered across his features, and within moments, he charged at the unsuspecting rival.

    The effect was flawless. The two clashed in an instant, their misunderstanding fueling a brutal exchange. Despite the no-kill rule, their strikes were fierce, driven by rage and desperation.

    Beside me, Sarah chuckled softly, clearly impressed. ¡°Using someone else as the fall guy. Clever, Reynard.¡±

    I allowed myself a small smile, watching the chaos unfold. ¡°Best to keep attention anywhere but here. They¡¯ll wear each other down soon enough.¡±

    The two hunters were oblivious to our presence, their fight escalating into a full-blown spectacle. Around us, others turned their attention to the skirmish, drawn by the commotion. Our veiled territory remained unnoticed, safely tucked away from prying eyes.

    It was a sneaky strategy meant to harrass them and fight each other.

    The fight outside our territory raged on, swift and brutal. Each clash drew more eyes as the chaos in the arena intensified. Hunters fought like cornered animals, their desperation fueling a frenzy that rippled through the crowded space.

    Meanwhile, in our well-guarded circle, we remained undisturbed. Hidden by Selena¡¯s precise illusions, our little stronghold was invisible to the frantic hunters around us. Each second brought us closer to the five-minute mark, and with it, victory in this stage of the test.

    I stayed focused, launching discreet, ranged attacks to pick off nearby hunters. My strikes were subtle¡ªsmall bursts of manipulated air that sent fighters stumbling into one another or out of their own circles entirely.

    Beside me, Sarah joined in with calculated precision, her spells a series of concentrated gusts that knocked unsuspecting contenders off balance. The two of us worked in tandem, creating a web of confusion among the ranks. No one had the clarity to realize where the attacks were coming from, each assuming it was the work of someone else.

    Selena, on the other hand, looked as if she had no care in the world. She lounged back on a conjured sling chair, half-seated, half-reclined, like she was sunbathing on a beach rather than hiding in a life-or-death contest.

    ¡°Enjoying yourself?¡± I muttered, sending another gust toward a hunter and watching him stumble backward into the fray.

    Selena didn¡¯t even open her eyes. ¡°Just waiting for you two to finish up. This is a timed exercise, remember?¡±

    Her tone was light, but I could sense the undercurrent of focus. The shimmering veil of her disguise remained perfectly intact, shielding us from view even as the chaos around us reached a fever pitch.

    ¡°One minute left, exactly,¡± Sarah murmured, her voice cutting through the noise with a sharp edge.

    As if summoned by her words, the announcer¡¯s voice blared across the arena, booming with a renewed intensity.

    ¡°Attention, contenders! One minute remains before the test concludes!¡±

    A glowing countdown appeared above the arena, each number ticking down with an eerie, electric hum. The luminous display cast a harsh light over the battlefield, illuminating the desperation etched into every contender¡¯s face.

    The announcement sent the hunters into a final frenzy. Teams scrambled to secure their places, and the nearest circle became a chaotic free-for-all. Fighters hurled one another out of bounds with reckless abandon, each trying to claim the space for themselves before time ran out.

    I glanced at Selena. ¡°Keep us hidden for this last stretch. They¡¯re bound to go for an easier target than us.¡±

    She smirked, giving me a lazy salute. ¡°Not like they can see us. I¡¯ve got it covered.¡±

    The numbers continued to fall, each glowing digit a countdown to chaos. Sarah¡¯s subtle attacks didn¡¯t let up, nor did my steady barrage. The hunters outside were too busy tearing each other apart to even consider looking for us.

    ¡°Ten seconds!¡± the announcer bellowed, his voice echoing through the arena.

    I felt the tension rise around me as Sarah and Selena shifted their stances. The final seconds ticked away, but I wasn¡¯t worried. Inside our veiled territory, we were invisible, untouchable.

    The last number on the countdown flared in the air, and then, with a resonant hum, the test was over.

    ~022

 023 The Labyrinth of Minos

    XXIII

    At the very last second, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, someone stumbled into our circle. He had dark, unkempt hair and a face so nondescript it slipped from memory the second you looked away. Barely out of his teens, he carried the telltale signs of a Seeker¡ªlikely one of the luck-driven ones, judging by the way he¡¯d been bumbling around the arena. I¡¯d noticed him earlier, darting aimlessly across the battlefield, narrowly avoiding attacks like a headless chicken miraculously surviving in a storm.

    Selena¡¯s jaw dropped, indignation flaring across her face. ¡°How¡ªhow did he even get through?!¡± she sputtered, her voice sharp with frustration. ¡°With that level of aura? My disguise, Sarah¡¯s barrier¡­ that shouldn¡¯t be possible!¡±

    The kid, blissfully unaware of the danger he¡¯d just put himself in, blinked around in shock. He seemed as surprised as we were to find himself in a safe zone. His wide eyes darted over his shoulder, as though expecting another attack to come barreling his way.

    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed, and I could feel her pride bristling. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not letting this one slide,¡± she muttered, her fingers already sparking as she prepared to cast him out.

    But before she could unleash her frustration, the announcer¡¯s voice boomed over the arena, halting everything in its tracks.

    ¡°Stage Three has concluded!¡± the voice declared, echoing across the battlefield. ¡°Congratulations to the 5,782 contenders who remain standing!¡±

    The tension in the air dissipated instantly, the sounds of fighting fading into an uneasy calm. The kid relaxed visibly, finally registering that he wasn¡¯t alone. His gaze darted between us, a nervous chuckle escaping him as he scratched the back of his head, looking almost apologetic.

    Selena crossed her arms, her displeasure clear, while Sarah smirked, leaning toward me. ¡°Surviving on pure luck¡­ gotta admire the tenacity,¡± she said, her tone laced with amusement.

    The announcer¡¯s voice returned, triumphant and gleeful. ¡°We began with exactly 12,245 contenders, and now, only 5,782 remain! Congratulations to those who survived this far! Prepare yourselves, my brave hunters, for what awaits in the next stage!¡±

    The ground beneath us rumbled, and the arena began to shift. Walls rose from the earth, forming twisting corridors that stretched into the distance. The battlefield transformed into what looked like the entrance of a vast labyrinth, its winding pathways disappearing into shadow.

    I kept my attention on the kid. There was something unsettling about him. Luck could only carry someone so far before it became something else¡ªsomething unpredictable and dangerous. His unassuming demeanor only added to my unease, his hesitant movements masking a presence that lingered just enough to put me on edge.

    ¡°Name?¡± I asked, keeping my tone casual.

    He blinked at me, startled, as though no one had ever bothered to ask him that before. ¡°Wolf,¡± he said, his voice quiet and uncertain.

    Selena snorted. ¡°More like Cub Wolf,¡± she muttered dryly. ¡°A very dumb but lucky cub wolf.¡±

    Wolf chuckled awkwardly, missing the edge in her tone, but I didn¡¯t dwell on him. The labyrinth had taken full shape around us, its walls tall and imposing.

    Sarah stepped forward, testing the ground. She raised her hand, focusing her aura in an attempt to lift herself into the air. But as she tried to fly, her aura flickered and failed, leaving her firmly planted on the ground. She turned back to us, a faint twitch of annoyance in her expression.

    ¡°What was that?¡± I asked, watching her closely.

    ¡°Tried to fly,¡± she said, irritation evident in her voice. ¡°My aura¡­ it¡¯s suppressed. Something¡¯s blocking it.¡±

    I frowned, studying the air around us. The energy felt dense, heavy. The labyrinth¡¯s aura wasn¡¯t just physical; it had a mental weight to it, an unyielding presence that seemed to suppress specific abilities.

    Before I could analyze further, the announcer¡¯s voice returned, brimming with theatrical delight.

    ¡°Welcome, contenders, to the Labyrinth of Minos!¡± he proclaimed. ¡°This next stage is one of our finest works, a real feat of folklore-inspired ingenuity! Here in the labyrinth, you will face both physical and mental challenges. Killing remains off-limits, so don¡¯t get any ideas!¡±

    The maze loomed before us, a labyrinth not just of stone and shadow but of suppressed power and unpredictable dangers. I glanced at Wolf, then at Sarah and Selena. This stage was going to test more than just our skills. It would test our ability to adapt, to survive without the tools we relied on most.

    And for some reason, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Wolf¡¯s luck would either make or break us in this twisted game.

    That was how usually it would go in stories. Introduce a new character, highlight their traits, experiment with the character¡¯s chemistry with the others, and then organically either fail him or make him matter.

    The announcer¡¯s voice echoed through the labyrinth, dripping with gleeful malice. ¡°Welcome to the Fourth Stage, the Seeker Test!¡± His mocking cheerfulness made the tension in the air even thicker. ¡°This time, it¡¯s a hunt! Scattered throughout this labyrinth are minotaur-like constructs¡ªbeasts with strength that nearly rivals cryptids. And in case you¡¯re wondering just how tough that is, let me make it clear: those beasts are strong as hell.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over us. ¡°My advice? Hunt them down as a team.¡±

    Of course, he wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Now, for those wondering, each minotaur kill will count toward your team of four. Forming a team is simple¡ªfind your designated party leader, shake hands, and form your alliances! If you¡¯re chosen as a leader, you just need a group willing to swear to aid you. Once those conditions are met, the labyrinth¡¯s rules will bind your auras together.¡±

    Four? Not five?

    I barely had time to process that odd limitation when his voice dipped into a conspiratorial tone. ¡°Why four? Well, let¡¯s just say it¡¯s because I¡¯m a discordant little devil!¡± He let out a high-pitched, maniacal laugh that grated on my nerves. ¡°Now, hunters, your objective is simple: complete your hunt within the next three hours, or you¡¯ll be labeled a failure. And who knows? Maybe a loser for the rest of your lives!¡±

    A bold red countdown materialized above us, ticking down from three hours.

    Wolf¡¯s grin spread wide as he glanced around. ¡°Well, convenient, isn¡¯t it? We¡¯re already four.¡± He turned to Selena with an almost boyish enthusiasm, extending his hand. ¡°I swear to aid you, lady!¡±

    Selena rolled her eyes and smacked his hand away with a sharp slap. ¡°Absolutely not. No chance I¡¯m leading this team.¡±

    Wolf flinched, rubbing his hand as his grin faltered. ¡°Ouch. Just trying to be helpful¡­ Sorry for misunderstanding¡­ I thought you were the leader¡­¡±

    I could almost see the moment she realized where he¡¯d gotten that impression¡ªprobably from her relaxed demeanor back in the third stage when she¡¯d been lounging in the sling chair. She huffed, turning toward me and crossing her arms.

    ¡°I swear to give you my aid,¡± she said, her voice resigned but firm. Then, with a wry smile, she extended her hand. ¡°Better you than me in charge.¡±

    I took her hand, feeling the faint surge of energy as our auras intertwined. ¡°It¡¯s mutual, Selena. Trust me.¡±

    Her expression tightened slightly at my words, but she said nothing.

    Sarah stepped forward next, her gaze sharp and assessing. ¡°I guess we¡¯re all in, then,¡± she said, her tone casual but her words measured. She offered her hand, her voice carrying a formal edge. ¡°I swear to aid you in this exam. In exchange, you have to lead us well.¡±

    I clasped her hand firmly. ¡°Glad to have you on board, Sarah.¡±

    Wolf, ever enthusiastic, gave a small shrug before stepping up again, his hand outstretched. ¡°I swear to aid you, too, mister! Let¡¯s make a good team, huh?¡±

    I nodded, shaking his hand. ¡°Of course, Wolf. Let¡¯s do this.¡±

    As our hands broke apart, a subtle pricking sensation ran through me, like pins and needles, as the labyrinth¡¯s aura siphoned tendrils from my own. The energy pulsed faintly, binding my aura to theirs. It was seamless, yet unmistakable¡ªa tangible link that connected us all. Without hesitation, I extended my Soul Link to all three of them, a precaution I wasn¡¯t about to skip.

    Selena¡¯s sharp eyes immediately picked up on the change. ¡°Did you just¡­ connect to us?¡±

    I gave her a half-smile. ¡°Think of it as an extra precaution. You¡¯re all¡­ valuable resources now.¡±

    Wolf tilted his head, his expression blank with confusion. ¡°Resources? What¡¯s that mean?¡±

    ¡°It means,¡± I said with a glint of humor, ¡°if things go sideways, I¡¯ll have a little extra aura to draw from. Or, if needed, I can siphon from one of you and redistribute it where it¡¯s most useful.¡± I paused, letting the implications settle. ¡°And, theoretically, the labyrinth might have to shoulder my aura debt if I¡¯m careful.¡±

    Sarah caught on immediately, a soft laugh escaping her. ¡°Using its own rules to your advantage, huh?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Exactly.¡±

    The labyrinth loomed around us, its walls thick with an oppressive aura. Somewhere within its depths, the minotaurs waited, their strength promised to be near-cryptid level. The countdown above ticked on, marking every second we wasted.

    This wasn¡¯t just a hunt¡ªit was a test of survival, strategy, and trust.

    And I intended to pass.

    The Soul Link pulsed steadily, a rhythm that resonated through my core. It was unlike anything I¡¯d felt before, as though I¡¯d gained an extension of myself¡ªa network of threads binding us together into a single, cohesive entity. Each pulse from their auras intertwined with mine, lending me their strength and pooling like an untapped reservoir of energy. It wasn¡¯t just power; it was potential.

    Sarah flexed her fingers, her expression curious as she adjusted to the new connection. ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡±

    I met her gaze, then turned my focus to the maze stretching before us. Its rough-hewn stone walls twisted into the distance, illuminated by the flickering, dim light that danced with the shadows.

    ¡°We hunt,¡± I answered simply.

    Selena¡¯s sharp eyes locked onto mine, and I caught the unspoken demand there. She wanted more than just an answer. She wanted information.

    So I gave it to her.

    ¡°This labyrinth isn¡¯t what it appears to be,¡± I began. ¡°It¡¯s likely the product of a combined ability. Several hunters working together¡ªprobably under the Association¡¯s orders¡ªhave created this environment. It¡¯s not just a test of survival but also of adaptability. They¡¯re manipulating the space and terrain as part of the challenge.¡±

    Selena¡¯s brows furrowed as she processed my words. ¡°So the terrain changes wouldn¡¯t be random, but intentional,¡± she said, her tone thoughtful. ¡°That means any route we take won¡¯t stay the same for long.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I replied. ¡°The labyrinth shifts every few minutes. We can¡¯t rely on backtracking or static safe zones. And as you already noticed, flight is restricted. They¡¯re enforcing the no-kill rule, so avoiding other hunters is our safest option for now.¡±

    Wolf let out a quiet breath, visibly relieved. ¡°So, we¡¯re just focused on the constructs, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Our objective is to hunt the minotaur constructs. They¡¯re tough¡ªnearly cryptid-level strength. That means we need to be smart. Every fight has to be on our terms, not theirs. We lure them to us, control the environment, and minimize risk.¡±

    Sarah crossed her arms, her eyes scanning the shifting shadows. ¡°And what about their patterns? If the labyrinth is controlled, the constructs might have preset routes or triggers.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Good point. That¡¯s what we¡¯ll need to figure out first. Movement patterns, weaknesses, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªthe best way to corner them.¡±

    Selena stepped closer, her voice calm but edged with steel. ¡°And if another team decides to interfere?¡±

    ¡°We stick to the rules,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Avoid unnecessary conflict. If we¡¯re forced to engage, we incapacitate them without causing harm. But ideally, we stay ahead of the other teams and keep out of sight.¡±

    She didn¡¯t look entirely convinced, but she nodded.

    Wolf, meanwhile, had a different question. ¡°What if one of those constructs comes at us before we¡¯re ready?¡±

    I turned to him, letting the weight of my words settle. ¡°Then we adapt. If we can¡¯t run, we fight. And we don¡¯t hold back.¡±

    The labyrinth seemed to hum around us, its oppressive aura pressing in like a living, breathing entity. It was designed to test us¡ªnot just our strength, but our ability to think, strategize, and work together.

    I could feel the threads of our Soul Link vibrating faintly, like a reminder of the strength we now shared. Together, we could do this. But we¡¯d have to move quickly, think faster, and act with precision.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± I said, my voice cutting through the tension. ¡°Stay close, stay quiet, and watch for movement. We don¡¯t have time to waste.¡±

    And with that, we stepped into the maze, the hunt for the minotaur constructs¡ªand our survival¡ªofficially beginning.

    ~023

 024 A Relentless Pursuit

    XXIV

    I laid out what I knew about the creature we were about to face. ¡°The Minotaur is a cryptid found only in the Forbidden Region. Picture a giant with the head of a bull and the body of a man, capable of spatial manipulation and brute strength beyond most hunters¡¯ limits. What we¡¯re dealing with here is a construct¡ªan imitation made for this test. It¡¯ll be weaker than the real thing, but still nothing to underestimate.¡±

    Wolf nodded as I spoke, listening intently. Then he hesitated, his voice soft but steady. ¡°Actually¡­ I¡¯m a Seeker and a Tracker sub-type,¡± he admitted, almost shyly. ¡°I can track non-human creatures, so it should work for finding this Minotaur construct.¡± He rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of sheepishness in his demeanor, though his eyes gleamed with quiet confidence. ¡°If you¡¯re okay with it, I can lead the way.¡±

    I exchanged a glance with Selena and Sarah. Selena shrugged, indifferent as usual, while Sarah gave a small nod, her expression satisfied.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I agreed, stepping back to let Wolf take the lead.

    He focused, and his aura shifted subtly. Thin tendrils of energy radiated outward like invisible threads, probing the area for traces of our target. Through the Soul Link, I could feel the faint hum of his ability¡ªa steady, pulsing rhythm guiding us forward.

    We moved in silence, our steps careful against the uneven stone floor. The labyrinth seemed alive, its walls occasionally rippling and shifting, subtly altering the terrain. It was disorienting, but Wolf¡¯s tracking kept us on course.

    A low rumble suddenly rolled through the corridor, making the ground tremble beneath us. A heavy, rhythmic thud-thud echoed off the walls, each step accompanied by the faint metallic grind of some ancient mechanism.

    The sound grew louder, closer.

    The air grew thick with the acrid scent of machine oil.

    ¡°Showtime,¡± Wolf whispered, his voice tight but steady.

    The source of the footsteps emerged¡ªa massive shadow stretching down the corridor. Then the construct stepped into view.

    It was monstrous, a twisted fusion of bull and machine. Standing at least eight feet tall, its body gleamed with dark metallic plates. Its grotesque, bull-like face was half flesh, half mechanical, with glowing red eyes embedded in its skull. Steam hissed from vents on its shoulders, giving it the appearance of a relic brought to life. Its fists, massive and shaped like iron anvils, clenched tightly as it scanned the corridor.

    I kept my voice low and firm. ¡°Remember the plan. Hit fast and hard. Don¡¯t give it a second to counter.¡±

    Selena grinned, her eyes alight with anticipation. ¡°Let¡¯s give our ¡®discordant little friend¡¯ a show, shall we?¡±

    The Minotaur¡¯s head snapped in our direction, its glowing eyes locking onto us. A guttural, mechanical snarl rumbled deep within its chest, and then it charged. The ground shook with each thunderous step, the force of its movements reverberating through the walls.

    I glanced back at Wolf, who lingered at the edge of the group, his nervousness evident. ¡°Wolf, can you fight?¡±

    He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. ¡°Uh¡­ sorry, no. I¡¯ll just hang in the rear and keep an eye out. I¡¯ll warn you guys if any other hunters get too close.¡±

    I nodded, focusing back on the charging construct. Reaching through the Soul Link, I drew in what I needed: Selena¡¯s Disguise Attribute, Sarah¡¯s Wind Attribute, and Wolf¡¯s Observe Attribute.

    Selena moved first, her aura flaring as she cloaked herself in a shroud of distortion, vanishing from sight. Sarah followed, the air around her shifting and twisting as she summoned a gale to counter the construct¡¯s charge.

    The Minotaur barreled forward, steam hissing from its vents as it prepared to strike.

    ¡°Now!¡± I barked, launching myself into action.

    The Minotaur charged, its iron-plated hooves hammering into the stone with a bone-rattling force that sent vibrations through the floor. It moved faster than I¡¯d expected, each step radiating a hostile aura intertwined with the hum of its mechanical components. My skin crawled as the intensity of its presence pressed down on me, but I shoved the discomfort aside, focusing on the Soul Link tethering me to the others.

    ¡°Stay on your toes,¡± I murmured, pushing a surge of aura through the link to bolster my teammates. ¡°Let it come to us.¡±

    To my right, Sarah sprang into action, her finger cymbals flashing as she gathered a swirling vortex of wind in her hands. She glanced at me, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. ¡°Offense or defense?¡±

    ¡°Offense,¡± I replied without hesitation. ¡°Hit it with everything you¡¯ve got.¡±

    Sarah unleashed a cyclone, the violent whirlwind roaring toward the Minotaur. Dust and debris swirled around its hulking form, obscuring its vision. The construct staggered slightly under the force, its iron head grinding against the gale, but it didn¡¯t stop. Its red eyes blazed through the storm, unyielding and locked onto us.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Brace yourselves,¡± I muttered, gripping the Soul Link tightly to prepare for its counter.

    Selena didn¡¯t wait. With a flick of her wrist, she produced a bazooka seemingly out of nowhere and fired. The explosion burst around the Minotaur¡¯s face, smoke and flames enveloping its upper body. For a brief moment, I thought it might have worked. But when the smoke cleared, the construct¡¯s armor remained unscathed, the metallic sheen untouched by the blast.

    ?Did she just used a bazooka? And guns weren¡¯t allowed? Seriously?¡± complained Wolf.

    Well, he wasn¡¯t wrong¡­

    I acted quickly, drawing on the disguise and wind attributes through the Soul Link. Combining them, I created flickering afterimages¡ªillusory versions of us darting around the corridor. Thanks to Wolf¡¯s observe attribute, I could refine each mirage, erasing any inconsistencies. Selena, catching on immediately, layered her own illusions over mine, adding distortions that made the images even harder to distinguish from reality.

    Splitting up, I bolted to the left, keeping the Minotaur in my peripheral vision. Through the Soul Link, I tracked everyone¡¯s movements as if I could see them directly. Wolf remained at the rear, well out of harm¡¯s way. Selena moved to the construct¡¯s right, her steps so light and precise it was as if she¡¯d vanished. Sarah hovered just above the ground, her aura flickering as she deftly maneuvered around the labyrinth¡¯s restrictions on flight.

    The Minotaur tore through the afterimages, its red eyes flaring with irritation as it recalibrated. Its movements were relentless, every step calculated to close the distance between us.

    ¡°It¡¯s impact resistant,¡± Selena¡¯s voice echoed in my head through the Soul Link. ¡°We need a different strategy.¡±

    Before I could respond, the Minotaur¡¯s gaze locked onto me. With a guttural mechanical snarl, it lunged, its massive frame descending like a falling boulder. I barely had time to react, flooding my aura with the wind attribute for a burst of speed. Just as its fist slammed into the ground, I slid beneath its legs, debris scattering around me.

    It sensed me instantly, its glowing eyes piercing through Sarah¡¯s illusions the moment my aura spiked. As I rolled to my feet, its backhand swung toward me, a blur of iron and force. I twisted, narrowly avoiding the blow, the air from its strike cutting against my skin like blades.

    Behind the Minotaur, Sarah reappeared, her finger cymbals clinking as she unleashed a barrage of wind spears. The sharp projectiles sliced through the air, targeting the construct¡¯s joints and back. But just as the attack connected, the Minotaur shimmered and vanished, reappearing directly behind me.

    Its massive arm swung in a deadly arc, and I dropped instinctively, the wind from its strike grazing past my head. The sheer power behind the swing sent a shockwave through the corridor, rattling the stone walls.

    This thing was relentless. It didn¡¯t hesitate, didn¡¯t falter. Every movement was precise, designed to crush anything in its path.

    I felt Sarah¡¯s frustration through the Soul Link as she gathered her aura again, preparing for another assault. The Minotaur¡¯s focus shifted, its red eyes flickering between me and the others as it recalibrated.

    This wasn¡¯t going to be a simple fight. We needed to outthink it¡ªand fast.

    Was it just me, or was this Minotaur tougher than anything this test should¡¯ve thrown at us? Its movements were too sharp, its durability far beyond what we¡¯d prepared for. Whatever this was, it wasn¡¯t standard.

    ¡°Now, go for its legs!¡± I commanded, my voice cutting through the tension.

    Selena didn¡¯t need to be told twice. She darted forward, her movements a blur as she slipped beneath the creature¡¯s swinging arm. With precision honed through years of experience, she drove her dagger into one of its exposed joints. Sparks erupted as the blade twisted, severing something vital. The Minotaur staggered, its balance momentarily compromised.

    Even with its impressive armor, there were weak points left exposed. That was our chance.

    I felt the Soul Link pulse with the collective energy of my team, a constant flow of power bolstering me. I reached deeper into the labyrinth¡¯s aura, drawing it into myself and merging it with my own reserves. My aura surged, shifting into its Fighter State. Energy condensed around my fist, swirling with raw force.

    ¡°Now!¡± I roared, throwing my entire weight into an uppercut.

    The impact reverberated through my arm, and the Minotaur shot upward, propelled several meters into the air. It twisted and flailed, its massive form thrashing as it was caught in Sarah¡¯s trap.

    High above, the air around it shimmered unnaturally. Sarah¡¯s finger cymbals clinked rhythmically, each sound resonating as a series of sonic blasts hammered the Minotaur from within her airless bubble. The echoes were deafening, and the construct¡¯s metal frame buckled under the assault.

    For a moment, it seemed like victory was in sight. But just as Sarah¡¯s attack reached its crescendo, the Minotaur vanished in a flicker of light.

    ¡°Behind!¡± Selena¡¯s warning came a split second before I felt the shift in the air.

    I spun, already bracing myself. The Minotaur reappeared, lunging with its massive fist aimed straight for me. But it wasn¡¯t as fast as before. Its left arm was gone, and its left leg sputtered with erratic sparks, thanks to Sarah¡¯s earlier strikes.

    Anticipating its move, I stepped into its path, my palm glowing faintly with the wind attribute I¡¯d drawn from the Soul Link. I¡¯d touched the Minotaur once already, and that was enough to connect to its aura. Now, I turned its own energy against it.

    As its fist swept past me, missing by mere inches, I unleashed a palm strike directly into its chest. The burst of wind attribute surged through its body, disrupting its internal mechanisms. The Minotaur¡¯s frame jerked violently as the force carved through its circuits like invisible blades.

    Its hulking form stumbled back, the energy within it destabilizing. I pushed harder, driving the wind attribute deeper until¡ª

    BAM!

    The Minotaur erupted in a scatter of shrapnel. Pieces of metal and wires rained down, clattering against the stone floor as the construct crumbled into a smoldering heap of mangled parts.

    Silence hung in the air for a heartbeat, broken only by the faint hiss of steam escaping the remains.

    Then, the gratingly triumphant voice of the announcer echoed from the Minotaur¡¯s shattered remains.

    ¡°Congratulations! You¡¯ve passed the fourth stage!¡±

    The words were mocking, the tone far too cheerful for what we¡¯d just endured.

    ¡°Now, don¡¯t get too excited yet~ but surely, this deserves a reward!¡±

    I exchanged a glance with Sarah and Selena, both of them catching their breath. Wolf peeked out from his hiding spot, his face pale but relieved.

    ¡°Reward, huh?¡± Selena muttered, a wry grin tugging at her lips. ¡°Better be worth it after all that.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t so sure. Something about this entire stage felt off. This test wasn¡¯t just about skill or teamwork¡ªit was pushing us to our limits, and the Minotaur had been far more advanced than it should¡¯ve been.

    ¡°Stay sharp,¡± I said, my voice low. ¡°This might not be over yet.¡±

    ~024

 025 Rest Stop or Battlefield?

    XXV

    The world shimmered around us, the chaotic rubble of the maze dissolving into a grand, ornate lobby. It was almost too much of a contrast¡ªthe heavy scent of roasted meats, pastries, and fresh fruits immediately replacing the stench of dust and sweat. Long tables stretched across the room, laden with food, while hunters milled about, their voices a low hum of excitement and fatigue.

    I took a moment to scan the room, my gaze flitting between the faces of waiters and waitresses moving gracefully between tables. One of them caught my attention¡ªa familiar face. It clicked: they¡¯d been a clerk back at the registration area, before the elimination rounds.

    Selena was the first to act, marching straight up to one of the waiters. Her tone carried a slight edge of suspicion. ¡°Where are we?¡±

    The waiter responded with a smile so practiced it might as well have been painted on. His voice was smooth, soothing. ¡°Welcome. This is a rest stop, a temporary sanctuary, if you will, and a celebratory event for those who have passed the fourth stage.¡± His delivery was polished, as if he¡¯d repeated the line a hundred times before.

    ¡°Rest stop, huh?¡± Sarah muttered beside me, her arms crossed. Her expression mirrored my own unease.

    I shrugged. ¡°Better than a death maze, right? Let¡¯s eat while we can. No telling what¡¯s next.¡±

    Wolf didn¡¯t need further convincing. His eyes locked on a roasted pheasant leg, and he gave me an approving nod, already halfway to the table. I followed, grabbing a plate and scanning the buffet, but even as I filled it with food, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that we were still being watched.

    The prickle at the back of my neck had become a constant companion since I¡¯d awakened my connection attribute. It was faint but persistent, like an itch I couldn¡¯t quite scratch¡ªa sixth sense warning me of danger. This ¡°sanctuary¡± felt too convenient, too staged. I was certain the assassins from the Elsewhere Cult were here, hidden among the crowd of hunters as easily as anyone else.

    Beside me, Sarah stepped forward, fixing the same waiter with a sharp look. ¡°So, where¡¯s my license?¡± she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

    It was a valid question. Passing the first four stages was supposed to be enough to earn a license. The rest of the stages were optional¡ªor, for those who still had the stomach for it, encouraged.

    The waiter didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Ah, patience, miss. You¡¯ll receive your license when the fourth stage has been officially closed. For now, please feel free to enjoy the refreshments.¡±

    Sarah sipped her drink through the veil that obscured half her face. The maneuver was as graceful as it was absurd, a testament to her stubborn refusal to remove the accessory even in casual moments. Wolf, meanwhile, had no such reservations. He tore into the pheasant leg with reckless abandon, the grease dripping down his chin. Across from him, Selena sampled desserts with an elegance that made it look like she belonged at a royal banquet.

    I wandered over to the drink dispenser and poured myself a glass of iced coffee. The coolness seeped into my fingers as I lifted it to my lips, letting the bitterness jolt my senses awake. Around us, more hunters began teleporting into the lobby, stumbling as they adjusted to the sudden shift in scenery.

    We¡¯d finished early, which gave us a bit of breathing room before the place got too crowded. My eyes flicked to the timer mounted on the wall, its glowing digits counting down the remaining time until the fourth stage officially closed¡ª1 hour and 39 minutes.

    ¡°Still plenty of time,¡± I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

    Sarah caught my eye, raising her glass in a silent toast. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, Reynard? Stay here until the next round, or¡­?¡± Her voice trailed off, but her expression didn¡¯t need words. The barely concealed anticipation in her gaze was a look I¡¯d come to know all too well. Sarah of the Undead Troupe didn¡¯t do well with waiting, especially when there was a hint of danger in the air.

    ¡°Depends,¡± I replied, casually scanning the room. My connection attribute buzzed faintly, warning me of eyes that lingered too long or auras that felt too sharp. ¡°Sticking around seems easy enough.¡±

    But in truth, my guard was up.

    Anticipation coiled tightly in my chest as I stayed close to Selena.

    Selena¡¯s hand shot out, yanking me forward by the wrist. The whoosh of knives slicing through the air just behind me sent a chill down my spine. I barely had time to register the near miss before Selena¡¯s hands blurred. A moment later, a pair of Uzis materialized in her grip, summoned effortlessly from her storage attribute.

    Gunfire erupted, the deafening sound cutting through the confusion. Hunters scattered in all directions as Selena¡¯s bullets tore into the attacker¡ªa man clad in an orange vest and goggles. But instead of crumpling to the ground, the figure shredded apart, releasing sawdust and fabric instead of blood.

    ¡°A mannequin,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    Selena¡¯s gaze flicked to me briefly, but I could see it in her eyes¡ªshe¡¯d already realized the truth. There were two attackers, not one. I could sense it too, the distinct hum of a second aura threading through the chaos.

    Pulling from Selena¡¯s disguise attribute, I wove myself into the confusion of the fleeing crowd, my presence vanishing among the chaos. Skirting the edges of the room, I moved closer to Sarah, who stood with her arms crossed, her eyes scanning the room with cool disdain.

    ¡°Hand,¡± I muttered, extending mine to her.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    She shot me a frown but complied, slipping her hand into mine. The moment I gripped it, I siphoned her sound attribute, the hum of her aura threading into my own.

    ¡°You owe me one,¡± she said, her voice dripping with irritation.

    ¡°Put it on my tab,¡± I replied, my lips quirking into a grin.

    Another volley of gunfire echoed from Selena¡¯s Uzis, shredding more mannequins on the left side of the room. Hunters ducked and scrambled for cover, the chaos intensifying by the second. Masked by Sarah¡¯s sound-dampening effect and Selena¡¯s distraction, I slipped through the crowd unnoticed.

    I passed a table laden with desserts, snagging a fork stabbed into a brownie. Taking a casual bite, I moved toward a woman in a yellow dress dripping with ornate jewelry. She didn¡¯t even glance at me until the fork pierced her throat.

    Her scream echoed, sharp and brief, before I drove the fork into her eye. Her face contorted in shock, frozen in a grimace, as hunters darted away from the scene in terror. Exactly what I needed.

    The moment of contact was enough to sync with her aura. I felt her power rush into me¡ªa Maker type, her puppetry attribute now flowing through me like a second set of senses. The connection snapped into place, and I could feel the forty-seven mannequins she controlled, each one bristling with concealed knives.

    ¡°Let¡¯s end this mess,¡± I muttered, bringing my boot down on her skull with a sickening crunch. Her power dispersed in an instant, and the connection between her and the mannequins shattered.

    The control was mine now. I flexed my aura, and the mannequins responded, their movements fluid and eerily lifelike. But before I could act, I felt it¡ªa shift in the air, a ripple of intent. Knives jerked mid-air, honing in on me with unnerving precision.

    A Seeker type. Someone else was guiding the blades with their aura.

    I didn¡¯t panic. Wolf¡¯s Observation attribute, which I¡¯d recharged earlier, combined with Sarah¡¯s sound-enhanced senses, made dodging almost too easy. Each knife felt sluggish as I sidestepped their paths, weaving through the assault with calculated precision.

    With a flick of my will, I pulled the mannequins closer, using my puppetry attribute to intercept the blades. They clattered harmlessly against the mannequins¡¯ frames, the puppets shielding me like an impenetrable wall.

    Through my Soul Link, I tagged the knives, suppressing the Seeker¡¯s control over them. One by one, they dropped, lifeless and inert, as if their strings had been cut.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± Selena¡¯s voice cut through the chaos as she approached, her Uzis smoking. ¡°But next time, try not to let them get the jump on you.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± I replied, smirking. ¡°Now, let¡¯s find the Seeker.¡±

    Selena nodded, her gaze sharpening as she scanned the room. Without hesitation, she reached into her inventory, retrieving a sleek pair of night-vision goggles. Sliding them over her eyes, she aimed at the chandeliers overhead and fired.

    Glass shattered, one shot after another plunging the room into deepening shadow. The remaining light flickered weakly before succumbing, leaving us cloaked in darkness. I crouched low, pulling the mannequins closer in a defensive arc around me.

    In the silence that followed, my borrowed sound attribute took over, painting a vivid map of the room in my mind. Every hurried breath, every shifting footstep of the hunters scrambling in the dark resonated clearly. To anyone else, the chaos would¡¯ve been disorienting; to me, it was precision.

    Gunfire erupted again. Selena was still active, her shots deliberate as she targeted the Seeker who had guided the earlier attack. The crowd scattered further, their panic fueling the disorder. Stray bullets whizzed past me, but none came close. Selena was keeping the pressure up, giving me the space I needed.

    The pandemonium didn¡¯t last long. Minutes passed before the room was overtaken by an unsettling silence. Then, with an abrupt flicker, light returned¡ªnot from the chandeliers Selena had destroyed but from a single, untouched one above the center of the lobby. Its glow was eerie, casting sharp shadows across the ruined room.

    At the heart of it stood a figure dressed impeccably in a black suit and top hat. His face wasn¡¯t human¡ªno flesh, no bone. Instead, it was a dark, shifting mass of aura, a shadow brought to life in three dimensions. The air around him felt heavy, his presence unnervingly commanding.

    I spotted Selena to the left, bound in thick chains. Her eyes burned with defiance, but her body remained restrained. To the right stood a young man, likely in his early twenties, with sharp gray hair and a scowl that screamed hostility. Dressed in a white suit, he radiated animosity¡ªno doubt the Seeker who had been targeting me.

    The shadowy figure in the center tipped his hat with a flourish. His voice was smooth, laced with an edge that demanded attention.

    ¡°Oh, such ruckus!¡± he said, his tone both amused and reprimanding. ¡°My apologies on behalf of the Association for allowing¡­ this little disturbance to unfold.¡±

    I froze. That voice¡ªit was unmistakable. This was Silhouette, the same voice that had guided us through each stage of the exam with humor and warnings.

    ¡°Such a travesty,¡± Silhouette continued, flicking his wrist lazily. Shadowy tendrils slithered across the floor, lifting the lifeless body of the woman I¡¯d killed. They deposited her gently at his feet. ¡°What happened to the no-kill rule I so generously imposed?¡±

    I stepped forward, forcing myself to meet the void where his eyes should¡¯ve been. My voice was steady. ¡°It was an act of self-defense.¡±

    Silhouette¡¯s shifting face betrayed no emotion, but his voice took on a sharper tone. ¡°And your proof?¡±

    I held my ground. ¡°I can¡¯t give you proof,¡± I said coolly. ¡°Not now, anyway. The woman¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°How convenient,¡± a new voice sneered.

    I turned toward the sound. The gray-haired man in the white suit¡ªstill restrained¡ªwas glaring at me, his expression a mix of anger and forced smugness.

    ¡°My name is Gerry Mansell, of House Mansell,¡± he announced, his voice dripping with self-importance. ¡°I swear on my House that this man killed her without provocation!¡±

    Ah. So that was his game. Accuse me of wrongdoing while ignoring his own involvement.

    Selena¡¯s eyes flicked to me, her silent message clear: Don¡¯t let him take control of the narrative.

    I took another step forward, shifting my focus back to Silhouette. ¡°Convenient? Hardly,¡± I said, keeping my tone measured. ¡°The woman and her accomplices staged an ambush. The mannequins, the knives¡ªeverything points to their intent to kill. I acted to protect myself and everyone else here.¡±

    Silhouette tilted his head slightly, his shadowy aura rippling as if considering my words. ¡°A compelling argument,¡± he said. ¡°But you stand accused by a member of House Mansell, a name with¡­ weight.¡±

    Gerry smirked, clearly emboldened.

    ¡°Weight doesn¡¯t equal truth,¡± I countered. ¡°Check the aura signatures in this room. You¡¯ll find traces of hers and his,¡± I gestured toward Gerry, ¡°all over the mannequins and the knives they controlled. Their intent is clear.¡±

    Silhouette raised a shadowy hand, and the room grew impossibly still. His tendrils snaked out again, weaving through the air as if searching for something. After a moment, they coiled back into him.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Silhouette murmured. His gaze¡ªor what passed for it¡ªshifted to Gerry. ¡°Would you care to explain why your aura is entwined with the very weapons used in this attack?¡±

    Gerry¡¯s smirk faltered. ¡°I¡ªthis is a misunderstanding!¡± he sputtered. ¡°The knives were meant to disarm, not kill!¡±

    Silhouette¡¯s laughter was a low, unsettling sound. ¡°Disarm, you say? Curious choice of words.¡±

    Selena, still bound but clearly enjoying Gerry¡¯s discomfort, shot me a quick grin.

    Silhouette turned back to me. ¡°You¡¯ve made your case. But let¡¯s see how the crowd feels about this¡­ situation.¡±

    I glanced around, noticing for the first time that the hunters had stopped fleeing.

    ~025

 026 Silhouetteâ€™s Judgment

    XXVI

    ¡°It¡¯s irrelevant,¡± I said evenly, holding my stance calm and firm despite the tension in the room. My suspicions about the timing of the ambush sharpened, the so-called ¡°safe zone¡± proving to be anything but.

    Crossing my arms, I maintained my composure. ¡°The no-kill rule only applied during the exam itself. This is a stopover.¡±

    Silhouette¡¯s voice cut through the room like a blade. ¡°Mere sophistry won¡¯t get you out of this.¡±

    I met his gaze¡ªor the void where his gaze would be¡ªhead-on. ¡°I¡¯m not spinning tales. I¡¯m being direct. I killed that woman in self-defense. And if you hadn¡¯t restrained him,¡± I added, gesturing toward Gerry, ¡°I¡¯d have done the same to him. He¡¯s a threat to me.¡± My voice hardened. ¡°Right now, it¡¯s my word against his. Unless you can present irrefutable evidence that I acted in bad faith, I welcome whatever punishment you see fit.¡±

    The room was silent, every hunter watching. None owed me loyalty, but my words planted seeds of doubt. Hunters might avoid unnecessary entanglements, but they were also witnesses. Silhouette¡¯s reputation and power added weight to this moment.

    Gerry¡¯s scowl deepened, his tone dripping with disdain. ¡°Is this the honor of the Association? To be swayed by a mere pebble¡¯s words?¡±

    Silhouette¡¯s gaze snapped to him, a slender finger rising as shadowy tendrils wrapped around Gerry¡¯s mouth, silencing him. ¡°Hush,¡± Silhouette muttered, irritation clear. ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡± His aura rippled, and he muttered to himself, ¡°Such an unpleasant development¡­¡±

    That¡¯s when Wolf stepped forward hesitantly, raising his hand. ¡°Uh, excuse me, sir. I¡¯d like to stand as a witness.¡±

    The room turned to him, surprise evident.

    Wolf cleared his throat, glancing at me. ¡°I believe Mr. Reynard acted in self-defense. I saw it myself¡ªI have a good eye for these things.¡± He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of knives and handing them to Silhouette. ¡°These were used as projectiles. I saw it happen.¡±

    Another voice joined in¡ªSarah. She stepped forward, her expression calm but resolute. ¡°It¡¯s as the boy said. This man is innocent.¡±

    I kept my focus on Silhouette, my tone sharpening. ¡°The Association doesn¡¯t seem concerned with the weak, only acting after the fact instead of preventing harm. If you wanted to stop this, you could have teleported me out of danger. But no, you waited. So, who¡¯s really responsible for that woman¡¯s death?¡±

    The air grew heavier as Silhouette¡¯s aura fluctuated. His shadowy eyes flitted between me and the others before narrowing slightly.

    ¡°Well played,¡± he muttered, amusement lacing his voice. With a gesture, the chains binding Selena and Gerry dissolved into mist.

    The moment Gerry was free, his fury erupted. Summoning a pair of gleaming daggers, he leveled them at me, his voice trembling with rage. ¡°I won¡¯t let this stand! I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±

    Silhouette moved faster than thought, his hand clamping around Gerry¡¯s throat. Shadows flickered ominously, the weight of his aura pressing down on everyone in the room. His voice was low, each word making the light pulse in time.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Silhouette said, his tone a quiet, menacing command. ¡°Not in my presence. Do you understand, boy? Blink once if you understand.¡±

    Gerry¡¯s wide eyes betrayed his panic. He blinked once, his reluctance clear.

    ¡°Good.¡± Silhouette released him, letting him drop to the floor. Gerry staggered backward, coughing and seething, but made no further move.

    Silhouette turned to me, his gaze unreadable. I gave him a curt nod, acknowledging the gravity of the moment.

    ¡°Now,¡± Silhouette sighed, summoning a sleek black cane from the air. Tapping it twice against the floor, the oppressive energy dissipated, leaving an eerie calm in its wake. ¡°Congratulations. You¡¯ve all passed!¡±

    A stunned silence followed, thick with disbelief.

    Silhouette frowned, tapping his cane again, his voice demanding. ¡°Applause, if you will.¡±

    Reluctantly, the room broke into scattered claps, the sound uneven and hesitant under his expectant gaze.

    ¡°Now,¡± Silhouette continued, his tone sharp and commanding, ¡°you have two choices.¡± He gestured to the left. ¡°Here lies the path to your licenses. You may take them and leave, free of this exam.¡±

    Then, sweeping his cane to the right, he added, ¡°To my right are luxury suites where you may rest and prepare. But be warned¡ªtomorrow, the true test begins. The no-kill rule will no longer apply. From here on, you risk death.¡±

    His voice deepened. ¡°Retreating now is no shame. A license alone will suffice for most. If you are new to aura, I strongly advise against continuing. Pick the path to my left¡­ and you shall live.¡±

    A hunter wearing a weathered cowboy hat raised a hand. ¡°What¡¯s so special about the latter half, anyway? Ain¡¯t a license the whole point?¡±

    Silhouette gave a small, knowing smile. ¡°You¡¯re partially correct. The latter stages offer more than a license¡ªthey¡¯re an opportunity to become stronger. Advanced aura applications, techniques beyond standard training. Hidden judges will grade you, part of the president¡¯s new initiative. You¡¯re the first to experience it.¡±

    His gaze swept the room. ¡°But the true prize is the golden pass.¡±

    A murmur rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew the golden pass wasn¡¯t just a prize¡ªit was a ticket to the highest echelons of hunter society, a gateway to unparalleled resources and missions.

    Silhouette¡¯s imperceptible smile widened, his shadowy form radiating intrigue. ¡°So, what will it be?¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The room buzzed with muted conversations, the weight of Silhouette¡¯s announcement lingering like a storm cloud. The golden pass was a symbol now, but it wouldn¡¯t remain that way for long. This was the president¡¯s vision¡ªa future where the Association held an unshakable grip on the hunter world. Hunters who once operated independently would see the value in aligning with an organization offering power, prestige, and protection.

    Silhouette¡¯s sharp tap of his cane cut through the murmur, drawing all eyes back to him. ¡°Decide your own paths,¡± he said, his tone casual but commanding. ¡°I won¡¯t bother you more than necessary.¡± His gaze swept over us, lingering just long enough to make each of us feel scrutinized. ¡°With that, it¡¯s time for me to go. Until then¡­¡±

    A swirl of shadows engulfed him, and with a pulse of aura, he vanished, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

    ¡°Goddamn it!¡± Selena¡¯s outburst shattered the stillness. She flipped a table with a feral snarl, sending its contents clattering across the floor. ¡°He just shows up and disappears, like always!¡± She stormed off toward the path for those continuing the exams, her footsteps echoing her fury.

    I understood her frustration. Silhouette wasn¡¯t just her father¡ªhe was Silhouette, one of the Seven Extremes and the founder of the Black Guard. Known more as a shadowy myth than a man, his enigmatic presence loomed large over both the Association and the world at large.

    Sarah approached me, her face hidden beneath her veil. ¡°I guess this is it,¡± she said.

    ¡°You¡¯re not continuing?¡± I asked, though I already knew her answer.

    ¡°No,¡± she replied simply. ¡°I¡¯ve gained what I wanted here. Farewell.¡± She paused, her gaze lingering on me. ¡°And remember¡ªyou owe me one.¡±

    Straight to the point, as always. She turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving me with an unsettling sense that our paths had parted with finality.

    I nearly jumped when I realized Wolf had sidled up behind me. I turned to face him, keeping my expression neutral despite the unease prickling at the back of my neck.

    Wolf smiled in his usual carefree way, looking every bit the harmless kid. ¡°I¡¯m heading out too,¡± he said, extending his hand for a handshake. ¡°I¡¯d like to keep going, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m cut out for it.¡±

    I clasped his hand, but the moment I did, he yanked me closer. The harmless gleam in his eyes vanished, replaced by something sharp and predatory.

    ¡°How¡¯s your wife doing?¡± he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

    My pulse quickened, but I kept my face calm. I tried tapping into his aura using Soul Link, hoping for a glimpse of his intentions, but my ability hit a solid wall.

    Wolf¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Cute trick,¡± he said, as if he knew exactly what I¡¯d tried. He let the words hang in the air before adding, ¡°Join my Troupe.¡±

    A chill ran down my spine. The Undead Troupe.

    Motherf¡ª

    ¡°No,¡± I said firmly, masking my unease. The offer was tempting, I wouldn¡¯t deny that. If the Troupe were fully formed, they could wipe out the Elsewhere Cult in one decisive blow. But they weren¡¯t there yet¡ªthey were still in their recruitment phase, not the force they aspired to be.

    Wolf¡ªor whoever he really was¡ªchuckled. ¡°What¡¯s the word? Ah~ fool your friends, fool your enemies¡­ nah, who cares, right?¡±

    His grip tightened, a subtle but unmistakable threat. The hunter world was merciless, where strength dictated survival. Backing down now would mark me as weak, and in this world, weakness meant death¡ªor worse.

    I activated the disguise attribute embedded in my aura, a remnant of my own hidden power, and began unraveling Wolf¡¯s fa?ade.

    Gradually, his dark hair lightened to a brown shade. His forgettable features sharpened, his frame shifting from that of a teenager to a young man in his early twenties.

    ¡°You look uglier without your glasses,¡± I taunted, throwing in a name to drive my point home. ¡°So, what¡¯s it gonna be¡­ Loki?¡±

    For a split second, his smirk faltered, surprise flickering across his face. It returned quickly, but I¡¯d seen enough.

    Loki O. Loki. The boss of the Undead Troupe.

    I¡¯d crafted him as a villain who thrived on theatrics, his initials¡ªL.O.L.¡ªa mocking testament to his chaotic nature. He was absurdly strong, his backstory tangled in layers of deception and tragedy.

    ¡°I have a job for you.¡± I said plainly, realizing the perfect opportunity right in front of me.

    Loki¡¯s hand shifted, dissolving into mist that slipped free from my grasp. ¡°What job?¡± he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp. ¡°And what about payment? Just so you know, my people aren¡¯t cheap.¡±

    I grinned. ¡°The payment? Information about your biological father¡¯s identity. You¡¯re curious, aren¡¯t you?¡± I leaned in slightly. ¡°Now, ask me¡ªwhat¡¯s the price of such information?¡±

    Loki¡¯s smirk widened, but I caught the glint of intrigue in his eyes. This was a game, and he loved games.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, his voice silky. ¡°You have my attention. Let¡¯s hear it.¡±

    ¡°How does a bet sound to you?¡± I asked, keeping my tone casual yet firm.

    He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ¡°What are the stakes?¡±

    ¡°How about you decide,¡± I replied, taking a coin from my pocket and spinning it between my fingers. ¡°While I decide the game we play.¡±

    Loki chuckled, a low, almost predatory sound. ¡°Hearing you sound so confident tells me the game will be rigged in your favor.¡±

    I grinned, feigning nonchalance. ¡°That depends. Why? Do you play using luck? Or is this a skill issue?¡±

    His eyes narrowed at the jab, but the amusement never left his face. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s play. If I win, you join my Troupe and tell me everything you know about¡­ Silhouette.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°I can¡¯t risk subordinating myself to you, but I am willing to wager my knowledge of Silhouette.¡±

    Loki tilted his head, studying me carefully. ¡°And if you win?¡±

    ¡°If I win, I want you to kill someone for me,¡± I said evenly.

    Loki¡¯s smirk faltered for a moment before returning. ¡°That¡¯s a tall order. Who¡¯s the target?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s for me to reveal later,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t naive enough to think he¡¯d agree to take on the Elsewhere Cult just with this gamble, but it was a start.

    He considered my words, then nodded. ¡°Alright, what¡¯s the game?¡±

    I held up the coin. ¡°Simple. A coin toss.¡±

    Loki¡¯s eyes sparkled with interest as he stepped closer. ¡°Let me examine it first.¡±

    I handed the coin to him without hesitation. It wasn¡¯t an ordinary coin¡ªit was an accessory, decorative rather than currency. It had a head and a tail on each side, but that didn¡¯t matter.

    Loki scrutinized it, flipping it between his fingers and running his thumb along its edges. ¡°Seems fair,¡± he said finally. ¡°I¡¯ll toss.¡±

    ¡°Best of three,¡± I added, to which he nodded.

    Loki flipped the coin into the air, catching it deftly and slapping it onto the back of his hand. ¡°Guess.¡±

    ¡°Tails,¡± I said without hesitation.

    Loki lifted his hand, revealing the tails side. His frown deepened. ¡°You got it right¡­¡±

    I had used Soul Link, a weak connection that barely registered, to catch a glimpse of his intent. But Loki wasn¡¯t slow to catch on. The moment he realized what I was doing, he severed the link, cutting me off completely.

    He flipped the coin again, catching it and slapping it onto his hand. ¡°Guess.¡±

    ¡°Heads,¡± I said confidently.

    ¡°Wrong.¡± Loki smirked as he revealed the tails side once more.

    I stepped forward, snatching the coin from his hand before he could react. ¡°My turn.¡±

    Tossing the coin into the air, I caught it and slapped it onto the back of my palm. ¡°Guess,¡± I said, keeping my tone neutral.

    Loki¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied me. ¡°You do know I have very good eyesight.¡±

    ¡°Guess,¡± I repeated.

    He smiled, clearly enjoying the game. ¡°Tails.¡±

    I removed my hand, revealing a smiley face on the coin.

    Loki¡¯s smirk faltered as he grabbed the coin, flipping it over to find a sad face on the other side. He burst into laughter, shaking his head. ¡°How?!¡±

    I didn¡¯t bother explaining. From the start, I had borrowed Selena¡¯s aura to alter the coin¡¯s appearance, shifting it into different images each time.

    ¡°You lost,¡± I said, tucking the coin back into my pocket.

    Loki¡¯s laughter subsided, replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. ¡°Alright, then. Who do you want me to kill?¡±

    I met his gaze, my voice steady and cold. ¡°The Elsewhere Cult¡¯s Prophet.¡±

    Loki¡¯s smile widened, but this time, it wasn¡¯t one of amusement¡ªit was something far more dangerous. ¡°Now that¡¯s a challenge,¡± he said. ¡°Consider it done¡­ but don¡¯t think for a second that I won¡¯t collect on my end of the deal someday.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I replied. ¡°Just deliver to your end of the bargain.¡±

    ~026

 027 A Foolâ€™s Bargain

    XXVII

    Loki leaned against the dimly lit wall of the room, his arms crossed as he mulled over the storm of emotions churning within him. His dream¡ªthe destruction of the Hunter World¡ªfelt both closer and more distant than ever. He had spent years assembling the Undead Troupe, crafting a name for himself through chaos and infamy, all in pursuit of wealth, power, and the army he needed to raze the Hunter World to the ground.

    But now, the promise of something he had always dismissed as unattainable¡ªknowledge of his origins¡ªhung tantalizingly before him, dangled by Reynard like a fisherman¡¯s lure.

    ¡°You¡¯re awfully quiet,¡± Reynard observed, his voice casual but sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk.

    Loki didn¡¯t respond immediately. His mind wandered to his beginnings: grown in a tube, raised in a sterile lab, and molded into a killer from the moment he could walk. His creators had ripped away any semblance of humanity, any chance at a normal life.

    Eventually, once he¡¯d grown powerful enough, he had turned on them, wiping the facility from existence and ensuring that no other experiments like him could follow.

    And yet, amidst the destruction, his creators had revealed a bitter truth: he was a clone, engineered from the DNA of a powerful Hunter. His "father" had willingly submitted his genetic material to create Loki, abandoning him to a life of servitude and bloodshed.

    Loki¡¯s voice broke the silence. ¡°I lost,¡± he admitted, his tone low and edged with warning. ¡°But I still want that information.¡±

    Reynard smirked. ¡°Ironic, isn¡¯t it? The Trickster, so eager to uncover a truth that might be just another lie.¡±

    Loki¡¯s eyes flicked toward him, sharp and calculating. ¡°You¡¯d hate it too, wouldn¡¯t you? Being lied to, manipulated. Especially if the lie was born from¡­ malice. And yyou seemed to enjoy it. You can¡¯t fool me¡­ I saw joy in your eyes when you saw me slowly realized I¡¯ve been duped. It was a very human thing: to lie. It is what sets us apart from beasts.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Reynard replied nonchalantly, moving to the table and selecting a cup of fruit salad. He spooned a piece of melon into his mouth, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

    Loki¡¯s smile faltered, a flicker of impatience breaking through his mask. ¡°Am I making you peckish?¡±

    Reynard ignored the barb, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°Lying doesn¡¯t set humans apart from beasts, you know. Beasts lie, too¡ªa chameleon changes its colors, a predator feigns weakness. Lying is just another survival tactic. For a Trickster like you? It¡¯s as natural as breathing.¡±

    Loki tilted his head, his curiosity piqued despite himself. ¡°What is it, then, that sets humans apart from beasts?¡±

    Reynard sidestepped the question, instead steering the conversation back to the matter at hand. ¡°I¡¯m a Dealer. And in my business, favors are currency. How does eight favors sound for the information you¡¯re after?¡±

    Loki chuckled darkly. ¡°Three. Take it or leave it. And remember, if I owe you a favor, the entire Undead Troupe owes you. Use me, and you¡¯re using them. Isn¡¯t that the perfect deal?¡±

    Reynard considered this, slowly spooning more fruit into his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind,¡± he said at last. ¡°I¡¯ll sell you the information¡­ but piecemeal.¡±

    Loki¡¯s expression hardened, though he forced himself to remain composed. ¡°Spit it out. Unless, of course, you¡¯ve been bluffing this whole time.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not a bluff. You need this, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Loki clicked his tongue in annoyance. ¡°Need is a strong word. Call it a preference. But if we can¡¯t come to an agreement, I¡¯m fine letting it go. How about gold? Property? Surely you can be flexible now that you¡¯re part of the Hunter Association.¡±

    Reynard shook his head. ¡°I only deal in favors. You should know that by now.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Loki said begrudgingly. ¡°Sell it piecemeal. But if I find your information lacking, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s tone remained casual, almost mocking. ¡°Your father has been with us since the beginning, you know.¡±

    Loki froze, his mind racing. ¡°Who?¡±

    Reynard¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Silhouette. The same man who hosted the exams. The one who was standing here just moments ago.¡±

    The words hit Loki like a thunderclap. His father¡ªthe shadow of a man who had loomed over his existence¡ªhad been right in front of him, and he hadn¡¯t even known it.

    ¡°Proof,¡± Loki demanded, his voice a low growl.

    ¡°There are no records left,¡± Reynard said with a shrug. ¡°Your creators made sure of that. But Silhouette? He¡¯s been in the Hunter World longer than you¡¯ve been alive. And he knows more about your past than anyone else.¡±

    Loki¡¯s hands clenched into fists. The temptation to lash out, to force the truth from Reynard, burned in his veins. But he forced himself to stay calm. ¡°If you¡¯re lying¡­¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Reynard interrupted smoothly. ¡°But you¡¯re welcome to verify it yourself.¡±

    Loki¡¯s mind reeled. If what Reynard said was true, then Silhouette wasn¡¯t just another obstacle¡ªhe was the key to everything. And Loki would do whatever it took to uncover the truth, even if it meant tearing the Hunter World apart piece by piece.

    Reynard leaned back, his demeanor calm yet laced with subtle amusement as he added with contempt. ¡°Proof? Alright. The initials carved under your left abdomen: L. O. L. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen them.¡±

    Loki¡¯s eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. ¡°And what of it? They mean nothing to me.¡±

    Reynard chuckled, setting down his dessert and walking closer. ¡°Of course, you don¡¯t know what they mean. But those initials were your father¡¯s name¡ªor rather, Silhouette¡¯s name before he vanished off the grid.¡±

    Loki tilted his head, suspicion clouding his gaze. ¡°Do you know what they stand for?¡±

    Reynard shook his head lightly, his smirk unfaltering. ¡°Not exactly. But I know enough.¡±

    ¡°How convenient,¡± Loki said with a mocking sneer. ¡°Your so-called ¡®proof¡¯ proves nothing. It only confirms your ignorance unless you actually know what those initials represent.¡±

    Reynard raised a hand, his tone measured. ¡°Calm down, Trickster. Patience is a virtue, even for someone like you. L. O. L. stands for Lance O¡¯Brien Law.¡±

    Loki froze. The name was unfamiliar, but something about Reynard¡¯s certainty made his pulse quicken.

    ¡°Lance O¡¯Brien Law,¡± Reynard repeated, his voice steady. ¡°He came from a family of lawyers, graduated top of his class at the police academy, and was reported killed in the line of duty. But that wasn¡¯t the end of his story. He resurfaced as the Hunter known as Nightfury. And when Nightfury disappeared? That¡¯s when he became Silhouette.¡±

    Loki¡¯s mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. If Reynard¡¯s claims were true, it meant Silhouette had led a life shrouded in layers of deception long before Loki had even been created.

    ¡°I¡¯ll confirm it myself,¡± Loki said after a pause, his tone cautious. ¡°If any part of your story is false, the favors I promised are void.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Fair enough. But let¡¯s talk payment.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s worth three favors,¡± Loki stated firmly, crossing his arms.

    Reynard raised an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t get clever with me, Loki. I gave you three distinct pieces of information: your father¡¯s true name, his life before that, and his civilian identity. Silhouette, Nightfury, and Lance O¡¯Brien Law. That¡¯s eight favors, easily. Especially given the rarity of this knowledge and the fact that it concerns Silhouette himself.¡±

    Loki exhaled slowly, the weight of Reynard¡¯s logic pressing down on him. ¡°You drive a hard bargain.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Reynard replied smoothly, his tone almost smug.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Loki conceded, his voice tinged with reluctance.

    Reynard¡¯s grin turned sharp. ¡°What else? Ah, don¡¯t try to weasel out of your payment. I have ways to ensure my clients always pay their dues.¡±

    Loki didn¡¯t doubt that. Reynard¡¯s network was vast and his influence pervasive. Crossing him would be unwise, especially while the Undead Troupe was still gathering strength.

    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± Loki said, turning to leave.

    ¡°Wolf,¡± Reynard called out, halting him mid-step. ¡°If you ever want to know more about dear old daddy, just give me a call.¡±

    A card flew through the air toward Loki, and he caught it effortlessly. It was a tarot card depicting The Fool.

    ¡°Don¡¯t lose it,¡± Reynard added, his tone teasing but firm.

    Loki inspected the card, noting the faint glow of aura embedded within it. On closer examination, he found Reynard¡¯s contact information and a short message written in aura:

    ¡°Thank you for your patronage. You get the VIP, my curious Querent. Congratulations.¡±

    It was signed, The Author.

    Loki smirked, immediately recognizing the card¡¯s hidden function. It was more than a simple calling card¡ªit was a tool for covert communication. Carefully, he wrapped the card in his own aura, ensuring he didn¡¯t activate any latent traps or tracking mechanisms.

    As he pocketed the card, a quiet resolve settled over him.

    Loki stepped out of the venue, the faint murmur of the exam hall fading behind him.

    The cool night air hit his face, a sharp contrast to the heated tension of his earlier conversation with Reynard. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being played, and the thought gnawed at him.

    How shameful would it be for a trickster of my caliber to get tricked?

    Waiting just outside was Sarah, her revealing outfit catching the faint glow of the streetlights. Her stance was casual, but her sharp gaze betrayed a readiness for anything.

    ¡°This is awkward,¡± Loki muttered, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I got found out.¡±

    Sarah¡¯s lips curled into a subtle smile, her eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°Reynard. That guy told me.¡± She held up a small piece of paper between two fingers. ¡°Slipped this into my hand during the attack. Said I could interpret it as him paying off a favor or me owing him one. Naturally, I chose the latter. I¡¯d much rather have him in my debt.¡±

    Loki clicked his tongue. ¡°The ambush on Reynard¡¯s life, huh? That guy¡¯s abilities are strange. I wanted him in the Troupe, but he turned me down.¡±

    ¡°Are we still good?¡± Sarah asked, tilting her head.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Loki sighed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t keeping tabs on you or anything. But I did have plans¡­ thought maybe we could strike a double deal. Bring him in, and you could recruit his wife. But he¡¯s dead set on joining the Association. Shame, really.¡±

    Sarah¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Then why send me to the exam? Having two licenses in the Troupe feels redundant.¡±

    Loki smirked. ¡°Because I had no plans of showing up myself. But I heard the ¡®Author¡¯ made a move recently.¡±

    ¡°The Author?¡± Sarah asked, her tone sharpening.

    Loki nodded, his expression darkening. ¡°A little while ago, he hired some hunters and went on a rampage. Killed a bunch of wealthy types and a few unofficial hunters. No evidence links it back to him, of course, so there¡¯s no Hunt Order on his head. Typical of him. I think he¡¯s planning to join the Association for a license to kill, or something close to it.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re keeping clear of his path?¡± Sarah asked, arching an eyebrow.

    ¡°For now,¡± Loki admitted. ¡°He¡¯s useful, after all. But it¡¯s best to tread carefully around people like him. I¡¯ll admit, part of me wanted to see if Reynard would cross paths with the Author. That would¡¯ve been interesting.¡±

    The two reached the entrance, where a sleek black limousine waited for them. The driver, a man in a sharp suit, opened the door with a practiced bow.

    As they slid into the car, Sarah leaned back against the plush leather seats. ¡°The Hunter World is changing,¡± she said, her tone contemplative. ¡°What¡¯s the Troupe¡¯s role in it?¡±

    Loki chuckled, his gaze fixed on the city lights streaking past the tinted windows. ¡°The Undead Troupe will be at the forefront of the chaos. Whether we¡¯re the ones pulling the strings or simply capitalizing on the disorder, we¡¯ll be there.¡±

    ¡°And the Author?¡± Sarah asked.

    Loki¡¯s grin widened. ¡°He¡¯s an enigma. But that¡¯s what makes him so exciting, isn¡¯t it? Who knows what role he¡¯ll play? For now, we¡¯ll watch. And when the time comes¡­¡± He trailed off, his smile taking on a dangerous edge.

    The limousine hummed softly as it sped into the night, carrying the two hunters toward an uncertain future. Turmoil loomed on the horizon, and Loki couldn¡¯t wait to see how it would all unfold.

    ~027

 028 The Lovers

    XXVIII

    After finishing my meal, I left the venue, feeling pleasantly full and slightly lighter on my feet. The luxury suite I¡¯d been promised wasn¡¯t far, and I intended to make full use of it. The exam wasn¡¯t over, and while my confidence was steady, rest was just as important as strategy. This whole event had been an elaborate show, unlike anything I¡¯d seen in years.

    Not that I¡¯d seen much of the Hunter World. My focus had always been on the smaller, quieter corners¡ªthe shadows where the real power moved. But if the Association wanted to play up the theatrics, I¡¯d gladly match them step for step.

    As I walked, my mind wandered to Loki. I¡¯d studied his reaction closely during our exchange. He¡¯d tried to hide it, but the subtle flickers of irritation and curiosity betrayed him. The bait I¡¯d laid was too tempting to ignore. Loki might have left the venue for now, but he wasn¡¯t walking away satisfied. He¡¯d be back, and when he returned, I¡¯d be ready. Information was my currency, and Loki was desperate for it.

    The suite¡¯s lights dimmed automatically as I entered, the sleek screen on the wall flashing a welcome message from the Association. I ignored it and sank onto the bed, the plush mattress pulling me in. The room was luxurious, almost comically so, but I wasn¡¯t about to complain. I¡¯d earned this, after all.

    I considered my next move. Selena crossed my mind briefly, but given her current mental state, it seemed wiser to wait until morning. Instead, I reached for my tarot cards. Each one bore my Soul Mark, a unique aura signature that connected me to the recipient. They weren¡¯t just cards¡ªthey were keys to relationships I carefully curated.

    The persona of the Author had been years in the making, a crafted reputation that carried weight in the right circles. I wasn¡¯t interested in starting my own organization, but expanding my network was essential. Connections were power, and these cards were my way of extending a hand¡ªon my terms.

    I shuffled through the deck, pausing on the cards I¡¯d already distributed. Each one was tailored to its owner, a subtle thread tying them to me. Two had been given out recently. The rest were waiting for the right moments.

    Setting the cards aside, I took out my phone and dialed Leora¡¯s number. The line rang twice before a soft click signaled she¡¯d picked up.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Her voice was light, questioning.

    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± I said, a warmth creeping into my tone despite myself. ¡°How are you and Leon?¡±

    Leora sighed softly, her voice softening. ¡°We¡¯re fine. Leon¡¯s asleep now¡ªfinally. He¡¯s got so much energy, even at two. Always finding something new to get into.¡±

    I smiled, picturing him. ¡°Sounds like he¡¯s keeping you on your toes.¡±

    ¡°He already does,¡± she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. Then, more seriously, ¡°And you? How¡¯s the exam?¡±

    ¡°Challenging,¡± I admitted, ¡°but nothing I can¡¯t handle. You know I¡¯d never take risks I couldn¡¯t manage.¡±

    ¡°Just be careful,¡± she whispered. ¡°Leon needs his father¡­ and so do I.¡±

    Her words grounded me, pulling me out of the game I was playing. ¡°I will. I promise. I¡¯ll be back soon. Count on it.¡±

    ¡°You could call more often,¡± she suggested. ¡°We have a secure line.¡±

    ¡°I just called yesterday,¡± I teased lightly.

    ¡°And yet, I worry every time you disappear,¡± she countered. ¡°How about a schedule? Three times a week?¡±

    I grinned. ¡°How about seven?¡±

    ¡°Seven? Won¡¯t you be busy?¡± she asked, surprised.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if something comes up,¡± I said. Truthfully, I regretted not being able to talk to her more often. Maybe I should¡¯ve given her one of my tarot cards, though I hadn¡¯t quite figured out how to explain them to her yet.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± I continued, changing the subject, ¡°I passed the first half of the exam. I¡¯m eligible for a license now, but I¡¯m aiming higher. Maybe a gold pass.¡±

    Leora hesitated. ¡°I feel bad. In the two years I went solo, I couldn¡¯t even pull off something like this. And now here you are, making it look easy.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all on you,¡± I reminded her. ¡°I was hiding in the mountains, remember?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she asked, surprised. ¡°You never told me that.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°No wonder I couldn¡¯t find you.¡± She sighed, though I could hear the hint of a smile in her voice. ¡°Thankfully, Leon¡¯s healthy. We just came back from the hospital this afternoon. But still¡­ the mountains? You could¡¯ve gotten a mobile home or even stayed with a family in secret.¡±

    ¡°My bad,¡± I admitted. ¡°Paranoia kept me from considering it.¡±

    Leora chuckled softly, her tone light and teasing. ¡°How long have you been a hunter, anyway?¡±

    I froze, her question hitting a little too close to home. I couldn¡¯t exactly tell her the truth¡ªthat I¡¯d only been a hunter for a few months. She¡¯d lose her mind and probably demand I drop everything to come home. Knowing her, she¡¯d insist on taking up the mantle herself. She was leagues ahead of me in pure combat experience, and I was fully aware of it. Her reputation had been built on battlefields, not backroom deals.

    She continued before I could respond. ¡°You know, I never really realized it during our marriage. I didn¡¯t detect any aura from you at first¡­ and even when you handed Leon to me, your aura was practically nonexistent. That¡¯s unusual¡ªespecially since I¡¯m a Seeker with multiple sub-types.¡±

    I hesitated, debating how much to reveal. Should I tell her the truth or keep up the front?

    The thing was, I¡¯d gotten pretty good at subduing my aura¡¯s corona. With my naturally weak aura pool, compressing it until it was practically invisible wasn¡¯t hard. Ironically, it wasn¡¯t until recently that I even realized Leora was a hunter. All those years of marriage, and I¡¯d been blissfully unaware.

    Honestly, when it came to the hunter lifestyle¡ªand especially my own aura awakening¡ªI was still green in so many ways.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I assured her, keeping my tone light and confident. ¡°Trust me¡­ my theoretical knowledge of aura is impeccable. I practically wrote the book on it.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a lie¡ªjust entirely misleading. But if it kept her from worrying too much, I¡¯d take it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send something through Stefan,¡± I added. ¡°A card with my Soul Mark on it. It¡¯ll let you call me in emergencies¡ªkind of like a special phone, but activated with aura. It takes a fair bit of aura to use, but it¡¯s worth it.¡±

    Leora¡¯s voice brightened. ¡°Really? That sounds¡­ perfect. Convenient, indeed.¡± She paused, then added with a hint of amusement, ¡°If I need saving¡ªor if you do¡ªwe¡¯ll have it ready.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said, pleased that she liked the idea. ¡°So, what card do you want?¡±

    ¡°Wait, I get to choose?¡± she asked, sounding surprised and delighted.

    I grinned, even though she couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°Of course. You¡¯ve got your pick from the tarot deck. What¡¯ll it be?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She trailed off, but I could hear the playful lilt in her voice. ¡°The Lovers, naturally,¡± she said, letting the words linger for effect. ¡°Since, you know, it suits us.¡±

    I laughed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re something else, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you love it,¡± she teased.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I replied, still smiling. ¡°All right, The Lovers it is. I¡¯ll get it to you soon.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she said, her tone softening. ¡°It¡¯ll be nice to have that connection¡­ you know, just in case.¡±

    ¡°Same here,¡± I agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure it reaches you.¡±

    Hearing her voice, so steady and warm, was a comfort I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been craving. As we said our goodbyes, I set the phone down and stared at the deck of cards on the table.

    The Lovers.

    It suited her perfectly. And as much as I joked, I couldn¡¯t deny how much I looked forward to handing it to her. That would be impossibile in current circumstacnes though¡­

    We talked for what felt like hours. Leora¡¯s voice softened gradually, the weight of the day pulling her closer to sleep. She drifted off mid-sentence, her breathing steady and rhythmic, faintly audible through the line. I sat there for a moment longer, listening with a small smile on my face.

    Eventually, I hung up and set the phone down. Reaching for my tarot deck, I slid out The Lovers card and studied it. The intricate design shimmered faintly under the suite¡¯s soft lighting. Pressing my lips lightly to the card, I felt a pang of longing pierce through me. How I missed her.

    Setting the card aside with care, I grabbed my phone and quickly sent a text to Stefan. It was short and to the point, detailing what I needed. I followed it up with an email outlining the specifics of the package. Within minutes, Stefan replied with an address. Efficient, as always.

    The suite¡¯s phone caught my eye next, its polished receiver gleaming against the dark wood table. Flipping through the Hunter Association pamphlet provided in the room, I found the front desk number and dialed.

    ¡°Yes, Mr. Bright, how can I assist you?¡± The voice on the other end was calm and professional.

    ¡°I need a package sent out by post. Can you send someone up to handle it?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± they replied smoothly. ¡°We¡¯ll have a staff member there within the next ten minutes.¡±

    True to their word, there was a knock on the door shortly after. I opened it to find a sharply dressed staff member holding a small clipboard.

    ¡°Mr. Bright?¡±

    I nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Moving to the desk, I carefully wrapped The Lovers card in a soft handkerchief I¡¯d bought earlier. The fabric was a deep navy blue with silver embroidery¡ªsomething I¡¯d picked up with her in mind. The handkerchief would protect the card and the Soul Mark etched into it.

    Once the bundle was secure, I handed it to the staff member, along with Stefan¡¯s address. ¡°Handle with care,¡± I said firmly.

    ¡°Of course, sir,¡± he replied, tucking the package into a secure compartment of his bag. With a polite nod, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

    For the first time that night, I felt a wave of relief. Soon, she¡¯d have the card, and with it, a part of me would be closer to her.

    I sank into the bed, letting the mattress cradle my tired body. The suite was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system. My thoughts turned to tomorrow¡¯s exam. The first half had been brutal, testing not just my abilities but my resolve. The second half promised to be even worse.

    The golden pass loomed on the horizon¡ªa beacon of opportunity and danger in equal measure. Earning it would mean facing tougher competition and even deadlier trials. But it also meant securing a future for Leora and Leon.

    As I lay there, my mind drifted back to the conversation with Leora. Her voice, steady and warm, had a way of grounding me. Even through the phone, she had the uncanny ability to pull me out of my head and remind me of what truly mattered.

    Regret lingered, as it often did. Regret for the choices that had brought us here, for the time lost, and for the danger I was now courting. But for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of hope. A genuine chance to turn things around.

    With that thought as my anchor, I let the fatigue wash over me. Tomorrow would bring its challenges, but I¡¯d face them head-on, as I always had.

    ~028

 029 Preludes & Wildcards

    XXIX

    I woke up to the sight of the clock flashing 10:00 AM. My heart skipped a beat¡ªhad I missed something crucial? The exam schedule was still unclear, and the uncertainty gnawed at me.

    Why hadn¡¯t I asked? Sometimes, I could be such an idiot.

    Grabbing my phone, I noticed several missed calls from Selena. A message waited, and knowing her, I braced myself for whatever chaos she¡¯d stirred up.

    I just broke into your room, saw you were still sleeping, felt you up real good to find your phone and contact number, and then I texted you this. Awesome. And you better wake up before lunch, or I¡¯ll sack you until the next exams. ¡ªSelena.

    I burst out laughing. That was so her. Shaking my head, I saved her number with a mental note: Emergency calls only¡ªbecause she¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s one.

    Still smirking, I pulled myself together. If today¡¯s exam was anything like yesterday¡¯s, I¡¯d need to stay sharp. And with Selena around, procrastination was not an option.

    Once I was dressed and ready, I flagged someone down for directions to the cafeteria. My stomach growled in agreement¡ªit was definitely time to eat. Following the directions, I finally reached the bustling cafeteria.

    I didn¡¯t hold back. Pancakes drenched in syrup, a burger loaded with toppings, fries, salad for balance, and a strong coffee to kick-start my brain.

    Halfway through my meal, Selena dropped into the seat across from me, a drumstick in hand and amusement flickering in her eyes.

    ¡°You eat like a horse,¡± she said dryly.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, unfazed. ¡°Care to explain how you kept tabs on me after I disabled the tracking function on my tarot card?¡±

    She grinned, biting into her drumstick. ¡°Bugged your phone. And your clothes.¡±

    I sighed, pulling out my phone and handing it over. ¡°Take them out.¡±

    With a smug expression, she extracted a tiny tracking device from the phone case. ¡°For the record, I also left laser sensors, traps, and drones in your room. Just doing my job as your bodyguard.¡±

    I chuckled. ¡°Subtlety really isn¡¯t your thing, is it?¡±

    ¡°Subtlety¡¯s for amateurs,¡± she said, taking another bite. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, bodyguard,¡± I muttered, sipping my coffee.

    Selena was a marvel. Her disguise attribute let her compress objects, making her a walking arsenal. She could pull weapons from thin air and still look nonchalant about it.

    ¡°So,¡± I asked, popping a fry into my mouth, ¡°any idea where the next phase of the exam is?¡±

    She paused, wiping her hands. ¡°They¡¯re keeping it quiet, which usually means something big. My guess? Terrain change¡ªmaybe a hostile facility or a survival scenario with limited resources.¡±

    I nodded. That sounded about right. The first phase had been child¡¯s play compared to what lay ahead.

    Selena¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement. ¡°It¡¯ll probably be in the field this time. None of that staged lobby nonsense. Real action.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°If by action, you mean grueling, then sure.¡±

    This next phase would test everything¡ªstrategy, endurance, aura manipulation. It was the real deal, separating the hunters from the pretenders.

    ¡°Any word on the new challengers?¡± I asked.

    Selena leaned back, her grin widening. ¡°Almost all of them are threats. But the one to watch out for? The Spear God.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°The Spear God?¡±

    The title alone carried weight. He was the son of Ranas, one of the Seven Extremes and the Fighter¡¯s Pillar. The Spear God was practically royalty in the hunter world.

    ¡°Big shoes to fill,¡± I remarked.

    Selena nodded. ¡°Ranas is rumored to be on his last legs. Everyone¡¯s watching his son, hoping to either challenge him or prove themselves worthy of the throne when the old man¡¯s gone.¡±

    I let that sink in. The Spear God wouldn¡¯t just be a participant¡ªhe¡¯d be the ultimate benchmark. Facing him wasn¡¯t just a challenge; it was an opportunity to rise.

    Selena leaned forward, her tone conspiratorial. ¡°Think you can take him?¡±

    I met her gaze, my smirk returning. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°I like the confidence,¡± idly remarked Selena.

    The Hunter¡¯s Association president was rumored to be the closest contender to claiming the title of the next Extreme Fighter. If Ranas truly was nearing the end of his reign, the competition for that throne was bound to ignite in ways that would shake the entire Hunter world.

    I polished off the last bite of my brunch, savoring the coffee that followed. Selena motioned for me to follow her.

    ¡°We¡¯re taking the bullet train,¡± she explained as we exited the cafeteria. ¡°The next exam venue¡¯s a week away.¡±

    I frowned, keeping my thoughts to myself. A whole week of travel? That wasn¡¯t just unusual¡ªit was ominous. Whatever lay ahead had to be monumental, dangerous, or both.

    Selena walked ahead, rattling off the names of the other contenders we¡¯d face. ¡°Big Dwarf, Iron Fist, Palm Reader,¡± she listed casually, each name rolling off her tongue as if she¡¯d memorized them long ago.

    I wasn¡¯t impressed. Fearsome nicknames were a dime a dozen in the Hunter world, and none of these struck me as particularly noteworthy.

    And then she said a name that made me stop in my tracks.

    ¡°Come again?¡± I asked, my voice sharp.

    She glanced back at me, her expression puzzled. ¡°Some guy called Diamond Black.¡±

    I gulped. Diamond Black.

    A name like that carried weight¡ªand not the good kind. But then I remembered something that kept me from panicking outright. He owed me a favor. How many was it, again?

    I pulled out my notebook and flipped through its pages until I found the entry. Sure enough, there it was. One favor. I grinned, more to reassure myself than anything else.

    Diamond Black was terrifying, sure. But having that favor in my back pocket was enough to keep my nerves steady¡ªfor now.

    In the Hunter world, you learned quickly that psychopaths weren¡¯t just common¡ªthey were practically a job requirement. If you couldn¡¯t stomach violence, couldn¡¯t spot someone truly insane, or couldn¡¯t fake insanity yourself, you wouldn¡¯t last long.

    Take Loki, for example. He loved to act the part of a lunatic, reveling in theatrics and mischief. But that was all it was¡ªan act. A mask he wore to get under people¡¯s skin and achieve his goals.

    Diamond Black, though¡­ he wasn¡¯t pretending. He didn¡¯t hunt cryptids or rogue Hunters like the rest of us. His targets were ¡°Devils.¡±

    In our world, Devils weren¡¯t just cryptids¡ªthey were something far worse. They drew out the darkest impulses in people, fostering psychopathy and chaos wherever they went. And Diamond Black hunted them with a single-minded obsession.

    That obsession made him a dangerous ally and an even more dangerous enemy. The last thing I wanted was to end up in his crosshairs or, worse, one of his ¡°tools¡± in the hunt.

    That was why I kept my distance whenever I involved him in my work. And why I planned to burn through that favor sooner rather than later. The longer I held onto it, the more likely it was to backfire.

    Sometimes, I considered cashing it in for money, just to get it over with. But that would undermine the mystique I¡¯d worked so hard to cultivate. A favor from Diamond Black wasn¡¯t just leverage¡ªit was a badge of privilege in certain circles.

    Selena noticed my hesitation and cocked an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±

    I forced a grin. ¡°No problem at all.¡±

    She gave me a skeptical look but didn¡¯t press further.

    We walked.

    The train platform was chaos. It was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people, their attention focused on a commotion near the center. A loose circle had formed, and at its heart stood two men who couldn¡¯t have been more different.

    The first caught my eye immediately. His long dark hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and his clothing¡ªa red robe over crisp white pants¡ªexuded elegance. The fabric shimmered faintly, clearly expensive, and the oriental style only enhanced his refined aura. He carried a spear slung casually over his shoulder, but it was his presence that truly set him apart. His handsome face, a mask of restrained annoyance, barely concealed the sheer authority radiating from him.

    I didn¡¯t need an introduction to know who he was. Shen, the Spear God.

    The other man was his complete opposite. His coarse leather jacket looked ready to fall apart, and his faded shirt and fraying jeans suggested he hadn¡¯t cared about his appearance in years. His face was rugged and unshaven, grime clinging to his features like a second skin. If Shen embodied precision and control, this man was chaos incarnate.

    The tension between them was palpable.

    ¡°Apologize,¡± Shen said, his voice calm yet commanding.

    The beggar scoffed, his smirk oozing mockery. ¡°Apologize? For what? Calling you what you are? A talentless bastard kicked out of his own house. Now you¡¯re here, scraping for a spot in the Association because you¡¯ve got nowhere else to go.¡±

    The insult hung in the air like a thundercloud. Shen¡¯s jaw tightened, his hand gripping the spear more firmly.

    I sighed, already feeling the heat of the brewing storm. This wasn¡¯t the kind of start I¡¯d envisioned for the journey. Selena, ever the curious one, had already approached a burly hunter standing near the edge of the crowd.

    ¡°What¡¯s the story here?¡± she asked, her tone casual but edged with interest.

    The man shrugged, his arms crossed as he watched the scene. ¡°That beggar? Been mouthing off since Shen got here. Seems like he¡¯s looking to get himself killed.¡±

    I followed his gaze, studying the so-called beggar. His ragged appearance might¡¯ve fooled most people, but I wasn¡¯t convinced. There was a sharpness in his eyes, a deliberate quality to his movements. This wasn¡¯t some random vagrant; he knew exactly what he was doing.

    And then the beggar spat¡ªright on Shen¡¯s shoe.

    The collective gasp from the crowd was deafening.

    Shen didn¡¯t move. Not at first. His eyes flicked down to his soiled shoe, then back to the beggar, who had already turned his back with casual indifference.

    That was a mistake.

    Shen moved like lightning. In a single fluid motion, he unslung his spear and swept it in a precise arc. The beggar dodged just in time, the spear slicing through the air where his head had been moments before.

    The crowd scattered, giving the two men space as Shen advanced, his every step deliberate.

    ¡°Fight me, then,¡± the beggar taunted, his grin widening. ¡°Show me if you¡¯re more than just your daddy¡¯s disappointment.¡±

    Shen didn¡¯t reply. His spear twirled, the blade gleaming as he launched a series of rapid strikes. The beggar evaded with surprising agility, his movements almost playful as if he were toying with Shen.

    Selena nudged me. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer immediately, my eyes locked on the unfolding fight. The beggar¡¯s scrappy appearance belied his skill. He wasn¡¯t just dodging¡ªhe was reading Shen¡¯s moves, anticipating them with an almost eerie precision.

    ¡°This guy¡¯s no ordinary drifter,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°No kidding,¡± Selena said, her voice low. ¡°Think he¡¯s testing Shen?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I replied. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s just trying to make a point.¡±

    The fight escalated, Shen¡¯s strikes growing faster, more aggressive. But the beggar remained untouchable, slipping through the gaps in Shen¡¯s attacks like water through a sieve.

    Finally, Shen paused, his spear poised but unmoving. The beggar stood a few feet away, his grin still intact.

    ¡°Done already?¡± the beggar teased.

    Shen¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    The beggar chuckled, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket as he spat on Shen¡¯s shoe.

    ~029

 030 Tension Before Final Exams

    XXX

    The fact that Shen hadn¡¯t managed to dodge that spit said it all¡ªthe beggar¡¯s skill level was a notch above his own, which clearly grated on Shen more than the disrespect itself. His face twisted in barely restrained anger as he stepped closer to the scruffy man, his voice low and menacing.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to prove to you my skill, you insufferable beggar.¡±

    The air around us thickened as Shen¡¯s aura began to spread, heavy and oppressive. Typical Fighter aura, but the level of concentration was impressive, even to me. It pressed down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.

    Selena grabbed the cuff of my suit, tugging impatiently. Her irritation was clear in the way she shot me a sharp look. I¡¯d dressed up a little for today¡ªsharp suit, clean lines¡ªbut Selena hadn¡¯t bothered to change out of her clothes from yesterday. Somehow, though, they looked pristine, as if she¡¯d cleaned them with her aura.

    ¡°You¡¯re too easily distracted,¡± she muttered. ¡°We need to keep moving.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± I reassured her, but my eyes stayed glued to the confrontation.

    Then, as abruptly as it had started, the suffocating aura vanished. Shen¡¯s expression faltered, confusion replacing the fury. I spotted the reason¡ªa hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

    The hand belonged to a bald man who seemed almost painfully ordinary. His calm, blank expression and unassuming posture gave little away, but I knew better. This was Bob, the president of the Hunter¡¯s Association.

    Bob was a study in contradictions. For someone in such a powerful position, he looked almost fragile. His aura barely registered, just a touch stronger than mine, which was bizarre considering his rank. The only truly striking feature about him was his bald head¡ªso shiny it was nearly blinding. Maybe that was why he wore that short red cape, though the cape was no less conspicuous. It clashed awkwardly with his simple white shirt and shorts, as if he couldn¡¯t decide whether to blend in or stand out.

    Despite the ridiculous outfit, there was no denying it¡ªBob was the most dangerous man here.

    ¡°Shen,¡± Bob said, his voice calm and even, ¡°you shouldn¡¯t let yourself get provoked so easily. This poor guy¡¯s just trying to get you disqualified.¡±

    The beggar spun around, anger flashing across his face. ¡°Who¡¯s calling me poor?¡±

    Bob didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°I did.¡±

    The beggar froze, his bravado faltering as he glanced nervously at the crowd. After a tense moment, he muttered something under his breath and slunk away, disappearing into the throng.

    Selena raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well, that was something.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed, still watching the beggar¡¯s retreating figure. Bob had everyone here under control, even with his odd appearance and easygoing demeanor.

    The bullet train arrived with a soft hum, its doors sliding open smoothly. Before anyone could board, Bob leapt onto the roof in a single fluid motion. He stood there, surveying the crowd with an expression that was equal parts bored and detached.

    ¡°Good job making it this far!¡± he announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. ¡°I¡¯m Bob. Yes, just Bob. I¡¯m the president of the Hunter¡¯s Association, and I¡¯ll be your chief proctor for the latter half of the exam.¡±

    A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Excitement, wariness, and outright confusion painted the faces around me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll also be participating in the exam,¡± Bob continued, his tone flat, as if he didn¡¯t believe the words himself. ¡°Consider it supervision, interference, or support¡ªwhatever fits the situation.¡±

    Selena nudged me with her elbow. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s not just the Spear God we need to keep an eye on.¡±

    I chuckled dryly. ¡°Yeah. ¡®Interesting¡¯ just got a new definition.¡±

    We boarded the train, and aura Linkers appeared over our heads, indicating assigned seats. I sighed internally when I saw mine. Of course, they were splitting Selena and me up again.

    ¡°We can always check in with the tarot cards,¡± I offered as we walked down the aisle.

    Selena rolled her eyes. ¡°Or we could just text. No need to waste aura on small talk.¡±

    ¡°Fair point,¡± I said, grinning.

    I found my seat by the window and sent Selena a quick message. Already seated, and guess who¡¯s next to me¡­ Diamond Black. What are the odds?

    I glanced at my seatmate. Diamond Black was infamous for his near-obsessive dedication to hunting Devils. He wore a sharp black suit with thin white pinstripes, giving him an even more imposing look. His sharp, calculating eyes met mine, and he spoke in a relaxed tone.

    ¡°Author, nice to meet you.¡±

    Keeping my expression neutral, I replied, ¡°Just call me Rey.¡±

    Diamond Black gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied, and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. I resisted the urge to sigh. Sharing a train ride with someone as stoic and intense as him was bound to be¡­ memorable. Diamond wasn¡¯t the type for casual conversation or small talk; every word he spoke felt calculated, precise. I couldn¡¯t tell yet if that was going to be a problem or a blessing.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you in this exam,¡± he said, his sharp eyes locked onto mine.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    I shrugged, mirroring his casual tone. ¡°Figured it was about time. Can¡¯t let you have all the fun.¡±

    His smirk lingered, unreadable. ¡°Fun, huh? So, are you a repeater?¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± I replied, keeping my tone light. ¡°Just started. You?¡±

    I already knew the answer. Diamond wasn¡¯t in the first half of the exam, and I¡¯d remember someone like him if he were.

    ¡°I skipped the first half,¡± he admitted, his voice flat. ¡°The president owed me a favor.¡±

    Of course he did. Fuck you, I thought, but outwardly I kept my cool.

    ¡°So you¡¯re aiming for the gold pass, then?¡± I asked, even though the answer was obvious.

    ¡°Yes.¡± His reply was curt, like he found the question unnecessary.

    It made sense. A gold pass wasn¡¯t just a prestigious achievement; it was a ticket to greater autonomy within the Association, not to mention access to restricted zones like the Forbidden Region. For someone like Diamond Black¡ªwhose entire life revolved around hunting Devils¡ªit was a necessity. The Forbidden Region was where the most dangerous Devils lurked, and it was a place even seasoned hunters feared to tread.

    Oddly, his presence felt like a lucky break. If Diamond Black was here, his obsession with Devils meant he¡¯d likely handle any encounters we might face. And frankly, I wasn¡¯t ready for a Devil fight. Not yet. Even a single Devil was a nightmare¡ªthose things were like walking calamities, each one capable of wiping out an Elsewhere Cult on its own. The thought alone made my stomach churn.

    My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out and smirked at Selena¡¯s message:

    ¡°Seatmate with Spear God and the damn homeless guy. The homeless dude is flirting with me. I¡¯m stuck in the middle. SAVE ME.¡±

    I chuckled and sent her a thumbs-up emoji. She was going to kill me later, but it was worth it.

    Diamond noticed my amusement and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

    Before either of us could speak, the president¡¯s voice crackled over the intercom.

    ¡°Hello!? Hello? The bullet train is about to take off¡ª¡±

    A second voice cut in, trying to correct him. ¡°President, we don¡¯t ¡®take off.¡¯ This is a train.¡±

    There was a pause, followed by Bob¡¯s flat, monotone response. ¡°Ah, sorry, my bad¡­ but I like the word ¡®take-off,¡¯ so don¡¯t ruin my drift. Anyway, please return to your seats and relax; the super train is about to depart! Also¡ªno killing unless I say so, or you¡¯ll be disqualified. Promise!¡±

    The absurdity of it made me snort. ¡°Technically¡­ using the word ¡®take off¡¯ when a train departs isn¡¯t entirely wrong,¡± I muttered, mostly to myself.

    Diamond, ever the conversationalist, responded with a simple, ¡°Ah, I see.¡±

    Such a bland reaction. If Leora were here, we¡¯d be locked in a full-blown debate over the technicalities of train mechanics versus jet engines. Shaking my head, I reached into the inner pocket of my suit and pulled out my trusty sleep mask¡ªa cat-themed one, complete with little whiskers.

    Diamond didn¡¯t bat an eye. Instead, he reached forward, rummaged through the seat pocket in front of him, and pulled out a Playboy magazine as casually as if it were a newspaper.

    I blinked. Somehow, instead of feeling grossed out, I found myself intrigued by his sheer nonchalance.

    ¡°You always travel with that?¡± I asked, unable to help myself.

    Diamond¡¯s lips twitched in what might¡¯ve been the faintest hint of a smile. ¡°Why not? Helps pass the time.¡±

    Fair enough. I slid the sleep mask over my eyes and leaned back in my seat. ¡°Wake me when the interesting part starts,¡± I said.

    The train hummed to life beneath us.

    I leaned back, pretending to rest, but my mind was far from idle. Instead, I focused on the Soul Links I¡¯d discreetly placed on several hunters throughout the day. A simple touch was all it took to Link someone, and I¡¯d made sure to tag enough people to have options if things went south. I couldn¡¯t afford to be careless¡ªespecially not when the air around us was thick with tension, the kind that hinted at trouble brewing just below the surface.

    The Soul Links were my safety net. They allowed me to draw on other hunters'' aura reserves in a pinch, effectively bolstering my own. But there were limitations. At first, I could only borrow two attributes at a time, and even that had taken months of grueling practice to master. Recently, I¡¯d managed to push the cap to three. Progress was slow, but steady¡ªpretty much what I¡¯d expected given the low density of my aura.

    Aura theory was something I¡¯d studied extensively, and the more I learned, the more it aligned with my own experiences. The density of one¡¯s aura was both a blessing and a curse. A lighter aura made it easier to awaken attributes but limited the power behind them. Conversely, a denser aura granted raw strength but made it significantly harder to awaken new abilities. Hunters who failed to control their dense aura often ended up with warped or misaligned attributes, a mistake that was nearly impossible to undo.

    Most hunters only ever managed to awaken one attribute. I¡¯d seen it happen too often¡ªan inexperienced hunter would overreach, destabilize their aura, and ruin their chances of unlocking more.

    But my case was¡­ different. I¡¯d awakened the ¡°Connection¡± attribute early on, which let me interact with others¡¯ auras in ways most hunters couldn¡¯t even dream of. Theoretically, this should¡¯ve allowed me to handle four attributes simultaneously. Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t work like that. My borrowing limit remained at three, and activating ¡°Connection¡± counted as one of them.

    The feeling of toggling ¡°Connection¡± on and off was strange¡ªlike detaching a part of myself, using something foreign in its place, and then reattaching it seamlessly when I was done. It was disorienting at first, but I¡¯d gotten used to it. Still, there was so much about aura, and my own abilities, that I didn¡¯t fully understand.

    This morning, though, I¡¯d discovered something new. Something unsettling.

    It seemed my ¡°Connection¡± attribute had evolved, unlocking a darker capability I¡¯d decided to call Skill Stealer. Borrowing another hunter¡¯s attribute wasn¡¯t new to me¡ªI¡¯d been doing that for some time now. But this new layer of power allowed me to keep the attribute under specific conditions:

    <ol>

    <li>Use Soul Link to tether my aura to the target.</li>

    <li>Equalize our aura levels.</li>

    <li>Maintain the connection long enough.</li>

    <li>Terminate the original owner.</li>

    </ol>

    That¡¯s how I¡¯d ended up with ¡°Puppetry,¡± the eerie attribute the assassin had used during the fourth test to control those mannequins. The memory of it still sent a shiver down my spine. I hadn¡¯t intended to kill him, but the circumstances left me no choice. And now, his attribute was mine¡ªa grim reminder of the cost of survival in this world.

    A sudden prickling sensation tugged at my consciousness. It was Selena, using the tarot card I¡¯d given her as a mental link.

    ¡°Hey, I think the fifth test will be¡­ happening here.¡±

    I pulled off my sleep mask, scanning the compartment warily. Nothing seemed out of place, but Selena¡¯s instincts were rarely wrong.

    ¡°Why do you think that?¡± I replied mentally, keeping my tone calm despite the unease creeping into my chest.

    Selena¡¯s voice came back sharp and certain. ¡°Look around. Doesn¡¯t this setup feel too¡­ controlled? Too perfect? Like they¡¯re funneling us into something.¡±

    I frowned, my fingers instinctively tracing the Soul Links I¡¯d left on a few nearby hunters. Each one was still in place, a reassuring reminder that I wasn¡¯t entirely alone. Still, Selena had a point. The atmosphere in the train car was almost too quiet, too orderly.

    Across from me, Diamond Black was still reading his magazine, utterly unfazed. Either he hadn¡¯t noticed the shift, or he didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Stay sharp,¡± I told Selena. ¡°If you¡¯re right, we need to be ready for anything.¡±

    Her response was immediate. ¡°Already am. You?¡±

    I smirked, though there was no humor in it. ¡°Always.¡±

    ~030

 031 A Train Full of Hunters

    XXXI

    My faith in Selena had always been steady, unshaken by the chaos that surrounded us. I trusted her not just as ¡°Selena Fair¡± from Hunterworks, my novel brought to life, but as someone who could see through the layers others missed. So when her voice came through the tarot connection I¡¯d given her, I paid close attention.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been circling around for fifteen minutes straight,¡± she said, her tone sharp and precise. ¡°The windows have illusions over them, good enough that they almost fooled me.¡±

    I glanced at the passing scenery outside the train window, trying to piece together what she meant. ¡°Is it Silhouette¡¯s work?¡± I asked, lowering my voice.

    ¡°No,¡± she replied firmly. ¡°Seems like he was only contracted for the first half of the exam. This illusion is more... scientific than aura-based. And most hunters are too used to aura tricks alone to notice it.¡±

    Curiosity got the better of me, and I tapped the window lightly. Across from me, Diamond raised a brow, his expression tinged with mild amusement. He clearly had no idea the glass was enchanted, nor that the train had been looping the same stretch of track for the past quarter hour.

    The exam structure was predictable¡ªeight stages representing the Seven States of Aura, with an elimination round up front to trim the herd. Each subsequent stage tested a specific aura type: Trickster, Dealer, Seeker, and so on. We¡¯d just navigated an artificial labyrinth tailored to Seeker-types, leaving Fighter, Caster, Maker, and Reader still ahead.

    I considered the possibilities. Fighter challenges were unlikely in a crowded train; there wasn¡¯t enough space for combat. A Caster stage seemed equally improbable¡ªno elemental resources to manipulate, no wide-open terrain to draw from. The exam president wouldn¡¯t skew the playing field so heavily in favor of one type. That left Maker and Reader as the most logical options.

    ¡°Selena,¡± I said, thinking aloud, ¡°this test is probably going to focus on Maker or Reader aura.¡±

    Her response came immediately. ¡°I should come to you. I¡¯m your bodyguard, after all.¡±

    ¡°No need,¡± I replied, glancing at Diamond. ¡°I¡¯ve got him with me. If things go sideways, I¡¯ll just use him. Better for you to stay where you are. We¡¯ll have more of an edge when the exam kicks off.¡±

    Information was going to be the deciding factor in this stage¡ªMaker and Reader types thrived on memory, analysis, and the ability to synthesize data quickly. While Tricksters and Seekers relied on insight and cleverness, this round demanded precision and positioning.

    I leaned forward, addressing Diamond. ¡°Hey, want some time-sensitive intel to help you pass this exam? It¡¯s only available for the next five minutes. Say no, and your chances might drop.¡±

    He shot me a flat look. ¡°Am I being scammed?¡±

    ¡°Come on, have I ever lied to you?¡±

    His expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°What¡¯s the price? If it¡¯s like your usual rates, forget it.¡±

    ¡°Relax,¡± I said, keeping it light. ¡°First, let¡¯s call a truce. Don¡¯t want you getting any funny ideas about offing me to dodge the favor you¡¯ll owe.¡±

    Diamond crossed his arms, considering. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s the intel, and what¡¯s it going to cost me?¡±

    ¡°Passing together,¡± I said simply.

    He gave a small nod, acknowledging the logic. ¡°Mutual benefits. I can work with that. Now spill.¡±

    I grinned. ¡°The test is happening right here, on this train. It¡¯s probably a Maker-type challenge, maybe Reader. The windows are enchanted with illusions¡ªtech-based, not aura. That fits a Maker-style setup. And there are 28 passenger carts, not counting the conductor¡¯s. Satisfied?¡±

    Before he could respond, I felt a sharp tug on my Soul Link¡ªa telltale sign that someone had detected it. My chest tightened. It was the first time anyone had ever sensed one of my connections. I severed the link immediately, my mind racing as I checked my Soul Links for any sign of tampering.

    Diamond noticed my pause. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±

    ¡°Nothing much,¡± I said, brushing it off. ¡°Just decided your name¡¯s too much of a mouthful. I¡¯ll call you Black from now on.¡±

    ¡°Whatever suits you,¡± he replied, his tone indifferent.

    Selena¡¯s voice crackled through the tarot connection again. ¡°Status report: Geoffrey just fell asleep and is now leaning on my shoulder. Can I kill him?¡±

    I stifled a laugh. ¡°No, don¡¯t bother. He¡¯s more useful as a friend. Besides, he¡¯d probably survive an assassination attempt from you, and that means he¡¯d become a bigger problem down the line.¡±

    She let out an annoyed tsk, but I could sense her patience fraying¡ªnot just from my response, but from Geoffrey¡¯s obnoxious snoring. In Hunterworks, I¡¯d written Geoffrey as someone with almost absurd survivability. Selena was going to need every ounce of restraint to deal with him.

    The faint hum of my Soul Link resonated through me, subtle and constant, like a whisper at the back of my mind. I kept my aura masked, my intent carefully buried beneath layers of neutrality, and began sifting through the attributes of the hunters I¡¯d marked. My connection attribute made it easier to skim their aura types, giving me a sense of their strengths and potential uses.

    Three slots¡ªonly three. Two were already occupied: connection and puppetry. That left one open, and I needed to be deliberate about filling it. Hm...Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Borrowing attributes wasn¡¯t as simple as copying someone else¡¯s power. Mastery was always the limiting factor. Even if I could tap into their abilities, I could only wield them as well as my own skill allowed. Often, the result was something new¡ªa hybrid of their talent and my interpretation.

    Selena¡¯s set of attributes caught my eye: disguise, light, and illusion. A strong combination, no doubt, but not quite what I needed at the moment. I needed versatility, something adaptable for offense or gathering information.

    I shifted my focus to Black, seated across from me. Borrowing from him was out of the question. The idea of his aura mingling with mine sent an involuntary shiver through me. It wasn¡¯t just the unsettling nature of his abilities¡ªit was the sheer intensity of his presence. No, I¡¯d find what I needed elsewhere.

    Among the attributes I could pink from the passengers, I found one I liked enough.

    After a moment of deliberation, I settled on something straightforward: vision.

    ¡°Already finished with your preparations?¡± Black asked, breaking the silence.

    I glanced up. Of course, he¡¯d noticed. His aura sensitivity was second to none, even if he wasn¡¯t a Seeker. Despite my precautions, he¡¯d picked up on my movements. Looked like I still needed more practice.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m ready,¡± I replied casually.

    Black gave a short nod. ¡°I¡¯ll be using one of my abilities. I¡¯ll need your protection during that time... can¡¯t be too careless.¡±

    The way he said it, as if trusting me was a calculated risk, almost made me laugh. Here I thought I was the paranoid one.

    As I watched, spiders began crawling from his sleeves, their movements unnervingly deliberate. His breathing slowed, his focus narrowing as he poured his aura into them. These weren¡¯t ordinary spiders¡ªthey were his aura beasts, a twisted blend of recon tools and weapons. No one in their right mind would want one of those things anywhere near them.

    What exactly was Black?

    In the early drafts of Hunterworks, I¡¯d written him as an enigmatic Occult Hunter with a flair for the dramatic. But as the story evolved, so did he. By the time I almost finished the novel, Black had become something far rarer: a Devil Hunter. The only Devil Hunter known to exist.

    And his unique ability explained why.

    Diamond Black could enslave Devils. Not summon, not contract¡ªenslave. It wasn¡¯t as simple as it sounded. The requirements to bind a Devil were so stringent that no one else had managed it. Yet Black had succeeded, twice over. Judging by the timeline, he should already have two Devils under his control.

    A shiver ran through me, unbidden.

    ¡°Done,¡± Black said, sliding off his shades and wiping them with a cloth.

    For the first time, I got a clear look at his eyes. His sclera was pitch black, his irises a ghostly white, and his pupils... diamond-shaped. The sight was unnerving, even for me. Those eyes weren¡¯t just cosmetic¡ªthey were a testament to his abilities and the Devils bound to him.

    He caught me staring and smirked. ¡°Curious?¡±

    ¡°Just fascinated,¡± I replied, masking my discomfort.

    Black¡¯s gaze lingered for a moment before narrowing. ¡°I won¡¯t pry into your abilities, so don¡¯t pry into mine. Our cooperation should stay on a need-to-know basis. Does that work for you?¡±

    I nodded, appreciating his straightforwardness. ¡°Agreed.¡±

    To show some good faith, I decided to offer a sliver of insight into my abilities. ¡°I can create special links made of aura¡ªSoul Links. They¡¯re nearly undetectable, and I use them for a lot of things: embedding marks on objects, setting unique frequencies for communication... even reconnaissance. I haven¡¯t tested the distance limit yet, but it¡¯s more reliable than any smartphone.¡±

    Black tilted his head slightly, intrigued. ¡°Unique frequencies, huh? That explains why your aura¡¯s always... layered. Clever.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°It¡¯s a work in progress.¡±

    Satisfied with the exchange, I leaned back, keeping an eye on the spiders crawling along the walls. Black¡¯s abilities were unnerving, but they were also efficient. As long as we stayed aligned, his paranoia and my resourcefulness would make for a formidable combination.

    The train continued its looping path, the illusions on the windows masking the truth.

    To drive my point home, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my tarot deck. The cards slid smoothly through my fingers as I fanned them out, a well-practiced motion meant to convey ease and control. I sorted through them deliberately, pulling one free and holding it up for Black to see: The Devil.

    ¡°Here,¡± I said, extending the card toward him.

    Black raised a brow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. ¡°Symbolic, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I kept my expression neutral. ¡°Consider it a VIP pass. I¡¯ve been distributing these to those I deem strong, smart, and resourceful. You check all three boxes.¡±

    He took the card, twirling it between his fingers as though testing its weight. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the card vanished. ¡°I like it,¡± he murmured, his approval low and measured.

    What I didn¡¯t say aloud was how carefully I¡¯d crafted that card for him. Black¡¯s aura¡ªinsidious and infectious¡ªwas not something I wanted mingling with mine. The Devil card wasn¡¯t just symbolic; it was a shield, built to resist and contain his energy should he try anything... untoward. Each of my tarot cards had been designed with a specific "character" in mind, tailored to personalities and strengths. They weren¡¯t just tools¡ªthey were safeguards.

    The Devil carried more than a name. Its aura was imbued with concepts I¡¯d carefully extracted: faith from churches, restraint from chains, and malice from sins¡ªelements I¡¯d harvested during the recent bloodshed. The process had been painstaking, each concept elusive and volatile, but the result was worth it.

    Aura was, after all, a mysterious and unpredictable thing.

    I tested my Vision attribute as we waited for the next stage of the exam. The train ride felt endless, with no hint of our destination or how much time had passed. Tapping into the Soul Links I¡¯d left behind, I stretched my awareness, borrowing their perspectives to piece together a rough map of the train.

    The results were... ordinary. A few hunters shifted restlessly in their seats, some conserving energy, while others kept watch. No major movements. Still, the technique proved useful¡ªan experimental combination of Vision and my connection attribute. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was better than relying solely on guesswork.

    As I withdrew my focus, a stewardess approached, her cart rattling softly as it rolled down the aisle. It was stocked with an array of refreshments: bottled water, juice, small snacks. She stopped beside us, offering a polite smile.

    ¡°Anything, gentlemen? Everything is complimentary, so feel free to take something.¡±

    I glanced at Black, who didn¡¯t so much as look up, before nodding at her. Keeping up appearances couldn¡¯t hurt.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take some water,¡± I said.

    She handed me a bottle of sparkling water, her fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment. It was all the time I needed.

    I marked her sleeve with my aura, a subtle touch that wouldn¡¯t register to anyone but me. As I took the bottle, I activated a Soul Link, tying the mark to my network.

    Soul Link had its limitations¡ªit required direct physical contact and awareness from the target. But by pairing it with a Soul Link, I could circumvent some of those restrictions. The mark acted as a nexus, embedding my power into an object rather than a person. The stewardess wouldn¡¯t notice a thing, yet her movements would feed me information.

    As she moved on, I tested the link. Through her perspective, I caught snippets of conversations, the clinking of bottles as she offered drinks to other hunters. Nothing critical, but it expanded my reach, and that was enough for now.

    Black, ever observant, finally spoke. ¡°You always this thorough?¡±

    I capped the bottle and shrugged. ¡°You can¡¯t win these exams without a little foresight.¡±

    He chuckled, low and dry. ¡°Fair enough. Just don¡¯t overplay your hand. You might not like what happens when you do.¡±

    I met his gaze, steady and unflinching. ¡°Same goes for you.¡±

    The tension hung in the air for a moment before he leaned back, his smirk returning. ¡°This¡¯ll be fun.¡±

    I didn¡¯t share his amusement.

    ~031

 032 The Train Game

    XXXII

    The stewardess was mundane, so there was no chance she¡¯d catch on to my aura work. I watched her disappear down the aisle, seemingly oblivious, but something about the train felt¡­ off.

    A few moments later, I recognized something going on¡­

    Earlier, the staff had been making their rounds, handing out food and drinks. Now, they were gone¡ªvanished without a trace.

    Most of the train staff were ordinary people, unconnected to the world of hunters. That meant they probably weren¡¯t part of whatever was coming. I leaned slightly toward Black, keeping my voice low. ¡°It¡¯s almost time. How¡¯s your surveillance going?¡±

    Black¡¯s response was measured, as always. ¡°I found a couple of suspicious items imbued with aura.¡±

    I nodded, the pieces falling into place.

    This exam setup was familiar. In my novel, it was one of the most grueling trials for the protagonist. A long, tension-filled arc where he had to track down and appraise aura-infused items, many of which were cleverly disguised. Some seemed harmless but concealed something dangerous, while others appeared cursed or misleading. It was a test of perception, intuition, and skill.

    Not for me, though.

    ¡°I could appraise those items from here,¡± I suggested, glancing at Black. ¡°If you let me use my ability on your spiders.¡±

    Black didn¡¯t hesitate. From his sleeve, he summoned a small, almost imperceptible spider and held it out. Without a word, I touched it, focusing on channeling my power.

    First, I marked the spider with my aura, and to my surprise, it worked. Either aura beasts weren¡¯t considered fully organic, or this was another quirk of my abilities. Encouraged, I marked more of his spiders as he released them to scuttle around our section of the train.

    Black¡¯s spiders were remarkable. Small and nearly invisible, they seemed to possess natural stealth capabilities¡ªperfect for surveillance. Combining my Vision attribute with the principles of Soul Link, I activated Soul Vision to enhance my perception.

    ¡°The pendant and the coin,¡± I said, spotting two distinct auras nearby. ¡°Those are the closest aura-infused items. Take them. They¡¯ll probably come in handy for the next stage. Just keep them close¡ªno need to draw attention.¡±

    Black gave a silent nod and dispatched his spiders to retrieve the objects. He moved with quiet precision, following my advice exactly.

    Through my tarot connection, I reached out to Selena. ¡°Selena, do you copy? There¡¯s an aura-infused item hidden near you. Check the compartment to your left, under the seat three rows ahead, and one embedded by the window. I have a strong feeling these will be important.¡±

    Before I could hear her response, a booming voice echoed through the train.

    ¡°Hello~! This is the president speaking! Mic test, mic test...¡±

    Bob¡¯s voice, playful and commanding, filled the cabin.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to play the Train Game! Rules are simple,¡± he began, drawing the attention of every hunter onboard.

    I leaned forward, listening intently.

    ¡°Your objective: The train is filled with mundane and aura-infused objects. Hunters must use their Maker abilities to identify, catalog, and analyze the aura-infused items,¡± Bob explained. ¡°But beware¡ªsome objects are cursed or have misleading auras. Mishandling them can disrupt your perception and lead to costly mistakes.¡±

    This was it¡ªthe real challenge.

    ¡°To pass this test,¡± Bob continued, ¡°you¡¯ll need to imbue your aura onto an item to match this frequency¡ª¡±

    A resonant hum filled the air: Tnnnng~!

    ¡°¡ªand then survive the next stage,¡± Bob said. ¡°Killing is permitted, but escalation has consequences. Remember, the number of aura-infused items is limited... not all of you will pass! Hahaha! Good luck!¡±

    The tension in the cabin was palpable. Hunters rose from their seats, eyes darting between each other, gauging threats and potential opportunities. The atmosphere reeked of suspicion and desperation.

    I stayed seated, watching the chaos build. There was no need to draw attention to myself.

    Black tossed me the golden coin he¡¯d retrieved. ¡°I¡¯ll take the pendant,¡± he said, already focusing on the object in his hand.

    I examined the coin. One side bore the relief of a naked woman; the other showed an eagle and the words ¡°Hunter Association.¡± Closing my hand around it, I concentrated on the frequency Bob had demonstrated, channeling my aura to match it.

    Beside me, Black mirrored my actions, his focus razor-sharp.

    ¡°Three!¡± Bob¡¯s voice rang out, followed by a blinding flash of light.

    When the brightness faded, I found myself standing on a beach. The golden sand stretched endlessly, the ocean sparkling under a clear blue sky.

    Black appeared beside me, his expression as unreadable as ever. ¡°Didn¡¯t see that coming,¡± he muttered.

    Bob didn¡¯t even finish counting down and we¡¯ve passed the exam¡­ Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t gripe on us for it.

    ¡°Well, that was easy,¡± Black remarked with a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Seems teaming up with you was the right choice. My spiders wouldn¡¯t have lasted long in the chaos back there¡­ my aura beasts aren¡¯t exactly built for durability.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    I glanced at him, knowing full well that his dismissal was a fa?ade. Black wasn¡¯t weak¡ªfar from it. His calm demeanor belied a calculating mind and a dangerous edge. I took in the unexpected beachside setting, the golden sand stretching to meet the sparkling ocean.

    ¡°Any idea where we are?¡± I asked.

    Black scanned the horizon, his sharp eyes narrowing. ¡°This is Kaliya Resorts, far south of the Union,¡± he said confidently.

    Before I could respond, a swirling mass of shadows began to gather in front of us, condensing into the silhouette of a familiar figure.

    ¡°Impressive¡­¡± the shadowy form intoned, its voice smooth and dark. ¡°This is a record breaker. The fifth stage of the exam is only beginning now, yet here you two are.¡±

    Black¡¯s posture stiffened, though his voice remained calm. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    I stepped in before things escalated. ¡°It¡¯s Silhouette,¡± I said, my tone even. ¡°One of the Seven Extremes. He proctored the first part of the exam. What are you doing here?¡±

    Silhouette let out a low chuckle, his presence suffocating even under the open sky. ¡°I¡¯m here to settle a few things with Bob. My services don¡¯t come cheap, and I plan on getting what I¡¯m owed¡­ personally.¡±

    Black didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Then you are irrelevant to me.¡±

    Whoa. A little too direct there, Black.

    Before Silhouette could respond, Black turned to me, all business. ¡°If this is the utmost southern part of the Claimed Lands¡­ then we must be near the World Wall.¡±

    The mention of the World Wall made my stomach tighten. Those colossal structures were legendary¡ªbarriers so massive they could be seen from miles away, shielding Claimed Lands from the Forbidden Region. I squinted, activating my Vision attribute, and spotted a faint, gray line far in the distance.

    ¡°Quite far,¡± I muttered.

    Black frowned, his analytical mind already at work. ¡°How did we get here so quickly? The capital is days away. Even on a bullet train, we couldn¡¯t have made it in less than a day. I don¡¯t know whether to be impressed by the Association¡¯s resources or disgusted by their extravagance.¡±

    I shrugged, keeping my tone nonchalant. ¡°It¡¯s something like a Teleportation Array. Science and aura working together.¡±

    Of course, I didn¡¯t go into detail. The World Path¡ªa satellite network that facilitated aura-based teleportation¡ªwas a closely guarded secret. Black wasn¡¯t exactly cleared for that level of intel, and I wasn¡¯t about to be the one to spill it.

    Silhouette¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. ¡°You have good intuition.¡±

    I met his gaze¡ªor at least the void where his eyes should have been. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Just small talk,¡± he said smoothly.

    ¡°Then talk.¡±

    He paused, his tone shifting slightly. ¡°How is Selena doing?¡±

    That caught me off guard. ¡°Ah, she¡¯s your daughter, right? She¡¯s fine.¡±

    Silhouette¡¯s expression¡ªor lack thereof¡ªdidn¡¯t change. ¡°I see you¡¯re well-informed. Tell her I¡¯ll still accept her with open arms, and she can come home anytime she wants.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell her that yourself?¡±

    The air grew colder, and I felt an almost imperceptible shift. Only then did I realize something was wrong.

    I didn¡¯t have a shadow.

    Silhouette¡¯s voice turned icy. ¡°Because I¡¯ve sworn to never acknowledge her existence until she bends the knee.¡±

    Sweat prickled on my brow as I met his non-existing gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on me. He was playing with me¡ªreminding me how easily he could snuff me out if he wanted to.

    ¡°Pick your words wisely, boy,¡± Silhouette warned. ¡°I won¡¯t be merciful next time.¡±

    With a flick of his hand, my shadow slid back into place as if it had never left. Silhouette dissolved into the air, his presence leaving behind an oppressive stillness.

    I exhaled slowly, only now noticing the resort staff gathering nearby. They seemed oblivious to the tension that had just filled the air, their cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to what had just happened.

    Black was watching me, one eyebrow raised. ¡°What are you doing? You¡¯ve been staring off into space. Something interesting about that particular female? Or was it the tree?¡±

    I followed his gaze to one of the staff members, a woman in a swimsuit helping her colleagues decorate the resort.

    ¡°Neither,¡± I muttered, shaking my head.

    Black slid off his shades, his tone dripping with mockery. ¡°Sure, sure. Whatever you say.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been since Silhouette disappeared?¡± I asked, still feeling the residual tension in my muscles.

    Black shrugged casually, leaning against a nearby tree. ¡°Around a minute. If he attacked you, I couldn¡¯t tell. That¡¯s why I opted for a wait-and-see approach.¡±

    A minute? It had felt like hours. Silhouette must have distorted my perception of time, attacking my psyche without lifting a finger. The Seven Extremes were dangerous, but seeing Silhouette¡¯s abilities firsthand forced me to reevaluate just how deadly they were.

    One of the resort staff approached us, smiling politely. ¡°Would you like a tour of the resort?¡±

    I waved them off. ¡°No, thanks. Do you have a hot spring?¡±

    They nodded and gave me directions. I turned to Black. ¡°You coming?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Not my thing. I¡¯ll keep watch instead.¡±

    Fair enough. I made my way to the hot spring, leaving Black to his own devices. The other hunters would take at least a week to finish the fifth stage. The exam wasn¡¯t as simple as it seemed. Securing the right frequency of aura while ensuring the item remained intact was no easy feat.

    Selena hadn¡¯t passed yet, and she¡¯d had a head start. That alone was proof of how grueling the test was.

    A few minutes roaimg around¡­ and¡­

    Steam rose around me as I sank into the hot spring, the warmth seeping into my tired muscles. The water was perfect¡ªjust the right temperature to relax but not make me sluggish. I closed my eyes, letting myself unwind.

    This was my first time in a hot spring, and it was strangely refreshing. Almost novel. I dipped my head underwater, the heat enveloping me completely, and when I surfaced, I froze.

    Across from me, seated as if he¡¯d been there the whole time, was the president.

    Bald, grinning, and still wearing his ridiculous red cape, Bob¡¯s presence was as unsettling as it was absurd. How had he even gotten here without me noticing?

    I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to stay calm. ¡°How may I help you, President?¡±

    Bob leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. ¡°I heard from Stefan that you¡¯re interested in joining the Hunting Dogs.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied evenly. ¡°I plan to rise through the Association¡¯s ranks in record time.¡±

    Bob raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°To contribute¡ª¡±

    He cut me off with a wave of his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s skip the BS. What do you really want from joining the Association?¡±

    I met his gaze, letting the truth spill out. ¡°The destruction of a certain organization that put my wife¡¯s and son¡¯s lives in danger.¡±

    Bob¡¯s grin faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression. He nodded slowly. ¡°That¡¯s good enough. The important thing is that you don¡¯t have ill intentions toward the Hunter¡¯s Association.¡±

    Leaning forward, he studied me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. ¡°Tell me, how is Leora doing? That girl¡¯s like a daughter to me.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Huh? Aren¡¯t you, like, three years older than her?¡±

    Bob¡¯s grin returned, wider than ever. ¡°Age doesn¡¯t matter when it comes to love!¡±

    I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re using that quote in the entirely wrong context¡ªand no, there¡¯s no love involved here. That¡¯s my wife we¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Bob chuckled, his tone light. ¡°Monogamy is overrated!¡±

    What the hell?

    It was only then that I noticed he was still wearing his cape, even while soaking in the hot spring.

    I pointed at it. ¡°That cape¡­ can you teach me how to do it?¡±

    Bob¡¯s eyes gleamed with interest. ¡°You recognized what it is¡­ impressive. So, tell me, what is this cape I¡¯m wearing?¡±

    He was testing me, and I welcomed the challenge.

    ¡°It¡¯s aura,¡± I said confidently.

    Bob¡¯s grin widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°Pure aura. Not bad, kid. Most wouldn¡¯t notice unless they¡¯ve studied the principles behind it. But theory and practice¡­ they¡¯re two different beasts, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s why I asked. My theoretical knowledge is top-notch, but I know I¡¯m still lacking in technique.¡±

    Bob laughed, his voice booming. ¡°Well, that¡¯s quite arrogant of you!¡±

    ~032

 033 Thematic Insights

    XXXIII

    Few individuals in the world could claim the title of genius, but the President of the Hunter Association, Bob, was undeniably one of them. My time with him felt like a rare and precious learning opportunity¡ªone I couldn¡¯t afford to waste.

    Bob tilted his head, his curious gaze piercing through me. ¡°How many special abilities are there? What do you think?¡±

    It was clear he was testing my knowledge and understanding of aura.

    ¡°That¡¯s an impossible question,¡± I replied, choosing my words carefully.

    Bob let out a thoughtful hum, his expression unchanging. ¡°Hoh~¡±

    I took a moment to gather my thoughts before elaborating. ¡°If there is an answer, it would be ¡®many¡¯ or even ¡®a whole,¡¯ because special abilities themselves are just expressions of thought. They aren¡¯t like aura, which can be perceived almost like an organ. If anything, special abilities are more like philosophies, ways of life, or ideals.¡±

    His eyes lit up with approval. ¡°Marvelous answer. Then you probably know this: Think Not, Think Now, and Think New¡ªthe trinity thoughts. Do you know they also correspond to the three states of matter: gas, solid, and liquid? So, where am I going with this?¡±

    I sighed, piecing his cryptic words together. ¡°You¡¯re saying you can¡¯t teach me your technique¡­ that we¡¯re carved from a different rock.¡±

    Bob nodded knowingly. ¡°Exactly. I could tell¡ªyou¡¯re more of a Think Now person.¡±

    What a roundabout way to reject me. What an ass.

    My eyes flicked to his cape, watching how it moved with an almost liquid grace. It wasn¡¯t just fabric¡ªit was aura, manifesting in a way that seemed to flow and adapt. Likely, it was tied to the Think New philosophy: fluid, flexible, and ever-changing.

    ¡°Still,¡± I pressed, ¡°teach me the principles behind it. I know how much you value the dissemination of aura techniques¡­ but you¡¯re also cautious about them falling into the wrong hands. That¡¯s why you tolerate the existence of the Hunting Dogs.¡±

    Or in a way, co-exist with the moral dillema they represented.

    Leaning forward slightly, I met his gaze. ¡°How about this? Let¡¯s make it a fair deal. Teach me the principles behind your cape, and I¡¯ll teach you the principles behind my Soul Link.¡±

    I felt confident my Soul Link was valuable enough to pique his interest. He¡¯d seen me use it during the exam, after all.

    Bob¡¯s grin widened, and he gave a decisive nod. ¡°Fine. This cape¡­ I call it Red Fury, and it¡¯s the evolution of my special ability.¡±

    We spent the rest of the day deep in discussion. Despite his Fighter inclination, Bob was anything but a brute. His insights challenged my perspective, forcing me to rethink the way I approached aura and its applications. By the time our conversation ended, I walked away with newfound clarity and ideas on how to develop my abilities further.

    I had no intention of abandoning the ¡®puppetry¡¯ attribute I¡¯d been experimenting with, but now, with Bob¡¯s teachings, I felt ready to create something entirely new.

    Back in the room the Hunter Association had reserved for contenders like me, I found my luggage waiting¡ªproof of how efficient they were. I pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling down ideas.

    All aura abilities and techniques, I realized, revolved around a central ideal unique to the practitioner. It was as if every ability followed a thematic rule, consciously or subconsciously. For example, my son Leon¡¯s aura theme seemed to revolve around fire. But it would be inaccurate to say he simply had fire powers¡ªhe¡¯d once solidified flames to play catch with me.

    I brainstormed possible titles for the research I¡¯d just begun. Titles had always been a hassle for me, but after some trial and error, I settled on something that felt fitting: A Study on Thematic Powers Manifested by Aura.

    The more I thought about it, the more I decided to use the term ¡®Gift¡¯ to refer to these thematic powers in a specific context. I hoped to develop a technique that could help aura practitioners identify their Gifts. Perhaps through it, I could uncover the theme behind my own aura and finally understand its true potential.

    The possibilities excited me. This was the start of something big.

    By the third day, Selena finally completed her exam. I watched from the beach as she trudged up to the resort, muttering a string of curses under her breath.

    ¡°Motherfucker! Fucking mother!¡±

    I waved her over, smirking. ¡°What took you so long?¡±

    Before she could respond, Geoffrey the Beggar and Shen the Spear God were teleported onto the beach beside us. Shen wasted no time kicking Geoffrey, sending the older man tumbling into the sea.

    Selena threw her hands up in exasperation. ¡°Because I¡¯m babysitting these two, that¡¯s why!¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Must be tough¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me started!¡± she snapped, rolling her eyes before brushing past me and heading toward the resort.

    That left me with Shen, who approached with narrowed eyes, his expression serious.

    ¡°What is your relationship with Selena?¡± he asked, his tone sharp.

    I frowned, irritation bubbling up. I wasn¡¯t in the mood for a confrontation, and this wasn¡¯t worth my time. Not that I would lose. ¡°What does it matter to you?¡±

    Shen¡¯s face softened slightly, though his resolve remained. ¡°Because I¡¯ve fallen head over heels for her¡­¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I blinked. Okay?

    He continued, completely earnest, ¡°She isn¡¯t taken, right?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Sure, she isn¡¯t taken¡­ but are you sure? She¡¯s about five years older than you.¡±

    Shen shrugged, undeterred. ¡°Age means nothing when it comes to romance. I like her because I like her. Age is just a number. Some people have partners ten, even fifty years older.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re funny.¡±

    With that, Shen walked off, his determination almost admirable. Wait¡­ didn¡¯t he end up becoming a womanizer in the future? Hmmm¡­

    Before I could dwell on that thought, a drenched and disgruntled Geoffrey stumbled toward me, his expression twisted into a mischievous grin.

    ¡°Was your wife a good lay?¡± he asked, his voice dripping with provocation.

    My expression hardened. ¡°No one talks about my wife that way.¡±

    This guy¡­

    Geoffrey stretched casually, clearly enjoying himself. ¡°She must be a good lay. You know, the stereotypes with blondes. Is she the quiet type or the loud type? You know, when you¡¯re bangin¡¯ and all¡­ Ever tried the backdoor yet?¡±

    I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my calm.

    Why was I even letting him get under my skin?

    Geoffrey¡¯s grin widened. ¡°So quiet. She mustn¡¯t be much good in bed¡­ you can fork her over to me if you two don¡¯t match up or anything.¡±

    This man needed to be put in his place. But violence would be my last resort.

    I gave him my most wicked smile, meeting his gaze. ¡°Geoffrey Corinth. Fifty-five years old. Divorced twice. Has one daughter who doesn¡¯t love him back. Drowning in debt with not a penny to his name. Thinks he¡¯s still a hotshot, but really just a washed-up hunter whose body is breaking down. Tell me, Mr. Corinth¡ªwas your daughter, now a prostitute, a good lay?¡±

    Then I laughed right in his face.

    Geoffrey¡¯s eyes went bloodshot as he glared at me. ¡°If you¡¯re implying I¡¯ve slept with my daughter, then screw you¡ª¡±

    Of course, he hadn¡¯t. I knew that much, but there was no way I¡¯d let him off easy after enduring his disgusting comments about my wife.

    Geoffrey clenched his fists, aura beginning to gather around them.

    I met his gaze, calm but firm. ¡°If you¡¯re going to throw the first punch, then do it.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, you won¡¯t be able to throw the second punch.¡±

    I knew Geoffrey was a Dealer-type, and for his ability to work, I had to be the one to attack first. This entire provocation was likely because of my bounty. The Elsewhere Cult had probably put a price on my head after the stunt I pulled against them.

    Shen had a bounty, too, which explained why Geoffrey had been pushing his buttons earlier¡­ just like he was doing with me now.

    I lightly patted his left cheek with my right hand, almost playfully, slapping in small intervals.

    Geoffrey stood there, enduring the humiliating gesture.

    ¡°Geoffrey, why aren¡¯t you doing anything? I attacked you now, didn¡¯t I? Ah, it¡¯s because, for your ability to work, the ¡®attack¡¯ has to be strong enough to actually hurt, right? Must be tough, being a Dealer-type.¡±

    He swatted my hand away, frustration etched across his face.

    But it was already too late¡ªI¡¯d left a Soul Link on him. If he tried anything funny, I¡¯d be ready to destroy him from the inside out.

    Geoffrey smirked, giving me a casual shrug. ¡°You should watch your back, Reynard. And maybe¡­ consider hiring me to do it for you.¡±

    The fact he knew my name meant his targeting me wasn¡¯t spontaneous.

    I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. ¡°Oh, really? After that stunt you just pulled?¡±

    His smirk faded slightly, and he shifted, almost looking sincere. ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve got my ways. You¡¯d be surprised how useful I can be.¡±

    I glared at him, not buying it for a second. ¡°Yeah? Well, I¡¯d sooner trust a snake.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± he muttered, still watching me with calculating eyes.

    I stepped closer, letting my presence loom. ¡°Now do us both a favor and get lost.¡±

    Geoffrey backed off with a shrug, though I couldn¡¯t ignore the sharp instincts in his gaze. If he attacked me, I¡¯d have justification to unleash the full force of my Soul Link. The aura sabotage aspect of it could be incredibly nasty if I willed it¡­ and I¡¯d make it hurt. Real bad.

    The days passed with a strange rhythm¡ªequal parts chaos and calm. When I wasn¡¯t hanging out with Selena, I was holed up in my room, experimenting with my Puppetry attribute. The president¡¯s Red Fury (the cape) technique had been a revelation, inspiring me to think outside the box with aura manipulation.

    My Maker affinity was terrible, just as bad as my other affinities¡ªexcept Dealer, of course. Seeker was my second-best affinity, followed by Reader, but none of them were stellar. Still, I refused to give up.

    The knowledge of Gifts¡ªspecialized applications of aura¡ªwouldn¡¯t be widely known for another decade, thanks to the work of some ambitious researchers. But I had no intention of waiting for them to finish their studies. My understanding of aura was more than enough to push forward.

    Eventually, after countless hours of trial and error, I made a breakthrough. Ephemeral chains of aura slithered around my wrist, glowing faintly in the dim light of my room. They weren¡¯t formed using the Maker state but instead came together through a series of Soul Links. I¡¯d originally aimed for something thinner, like strings, but this was a significant step forward.

    ¡°I¡¯ll call this Soul Chains,¡± I muttered, examining the construct. The chains pulsed faintly, as if alive. ¡°As for its abilities¡­ I¡¯m still not sure.¡±

    Restraint seemed to be its primary function, though it wasn¡¯t versatile enough to serve as a weapon¡ªyet. Still, this was the most progress I¡¯d made in months since my aura awakening, and it was enough to reignite my determination.

    By the ninth day, the president finally announced the end of the fifth exam. Three tests remained: Reader, Fighter, and Caster. At eight in the morning, we gathered by the beach, the rising sun painting the horizon in hues of orange and gold.

    Bob clapped his hands, his grin as wide as ever. ¡°Congratulations on passing the fifth stage! Now, today¡¯s a no-exam day, so feel free to party!¡±

    The hunters erupted into cheers, many of them fist-pumping the air in celebration.

    The president, topless but still wearing that absurd red cape, took a running start and dive-bombed into the ocean with a splash. If nothing else, the man knew how to make an exit.

    The beach quickly transformed into a full-blown party. Selena joined a game of beach volleyball, her laughter carrying over the sound of the waves. I found a shady spot under an umbrella, sipping coconut water through a straw.

    Black lounged beside me, sunglasses perched on his nose as he soaked up the sun.

    ¡°Not exactly what I expected for a day off,¡± I murmured.

    He smirked. ¡°We take our victories where we can.¡±

    Shen, ever persistent, hovered around Selena like a lovesick puppy. She wasn¡¯t having any of it, dodging his attempts at conversation by focusing on her game.

    Nearby, Geoffrey was at it again, pestering one of the female staff members. Before I could intervene, Shen stomped over and kicked Geoffrey away. And then Shen¡­ proceeded to flirt with the female staff. I imagined he had grown tired of Selena rather quickly.

    Black chuckled beside me. ¡°Got any guesses about the next test?¡±

    I shook my head, my gaze fixed on the scene in front of me. ¡°No clue. But if the president says it¡¯s a no-exam day, I¡¯m inclined to believe him.¡±

    I sighed, irritated by the brute¡¯s behavior. Just another day dealing with idiots.

    I crafted a Soul Chain, letting it slither just beneath the sand. It crept toward Shen, invisible to the naked eye. Before he realized what was happening, the chain coiled around him, freezing him in place.

    The female staff member took the opportunity to escape, leaving the brute standing there, confused and powerless.

    The current iteration of my Soul Chain was purely for restraint. It couldn¡¯t yet act as a conduit or subtiture for my Soul Link. If it could, I¡¯d have drained his aura and subjected him to a brutal backlash.

    Instead, I embedded the chain in his aura field, restricting his aura usage. For the rest of the day, he¡¯d feel like he was constipated¡ªin an aura sense, at least. The chain was easy to dispel with enough aura bombardment, but its faint signature made it difficult to detect.

    Leaning back, I took another sip of my coconut water, satisfied.

    ¡°Lesson learned,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°Don¡¯t be a hero if you¡¯re planning to be the jerk anyway.¡±

    I scanned the beach for Geoffrey, but the beggar had vanished. Typical.

    The day wore on, a mix of relaxation and minor annoyances. For now, I let myself enjoy the reprieve. The next challenge was just around the corner, and I intended to be ready.

    ~033

 034 Eternal Night

    XXXIV

    The beach had transformed under the night sky, its familiar sands and surf now cloaked in a soft, eerie glow. Starlight shimmered on the dark ocean, casting rippling silver trails that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the shore. A salty breeze brushed against my face, carrying a chill that made the place feel less like a tropical paradise and more like the stage for something foreboding.

    Everyone had gathered at the beach again, but the mood was anything but festive.

    Around me, hunters stood in full gear, their figures sharp and alert. Gone were the swimsuits and carefree laughter from earlier in the day; now, it was all polished armor, reinforced fabric, and weapons that glinted faintly under the moonlight. The dim glow of distant resort lights made them appear as dark silhouettes against the shoreline, shadows poised for battle.

    Bob stood on a makeshift podium, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

    ¡°It¡¯s time for the sixth stage,¡± he announced, his grin wide and mischievous. ¡°Let¡¯s call this test Read the Stars.¡±

    A few heads tilted in curiosity. I leaned in slightly, intrigued.

    ¡°Kaliya Beach Resort isn¡¯t exactly what it seems,¡± Bob continued. ¡°This island wasn¡¯t funded by the Hunter¡¯s Association just so hunters could get discounted vacations.¡±

    I noticed a ripple of confusion pass through the crowd. Bob¡¯s grin widened, and he looked as though he were savoring the moment.

    ¡°You see, there¡¯s a peculiar celestial phenomenon that only occurs here. Starting tonight, and lasting for nine days, this entire resort will be trapped in eternal night.¡±

    The announcement sent a wave of murmurs through the hunters. I glanced at Selena, who stood to my left, her expression alert. On my right, Black crossed his arms, scanning the surroundings with a calm intensity.

    Bob¡¯s voice rang out again, this time laced with mockery. ¡°So, what are you going to do? Simple: Escape! There will be a teleportation box waiting at the other end of the island. Arrive there before the ninth day, and you pass this test. But be warned¡ªthe night has ways to distort perception, not to mention the wild beasts that the darkness ushers forth to hunt. Oh, and one more thing¡­¡±

    His grin vanished, replaced by a cold, steely expression. ¡°The resort will be closed down for the rest of the test. No harassing the staff, okay? Or I will kill you.¡±

    A suffocating wave of killing intent washed over us, sharp and cold like a blade pressed against the throat. Even the most hardened hunters shifted uneasily. Bob¡¯s words weren¡¯t a threat¡ªthey were a promise.

    And then, with a flash of light, he was gone, likely teleported away as abruptly as he¡¯d appeared.

    The hunters wasted no time, dashing toward the darkened treeline in groups. I stayed where I was, watching as they disappeared into the shadows. Selena and Black turned to me, clearly waiting for guidance.

    ¡°If Leora were here,¡± Selena said with a pout, ¡°she¡¯d breeze through this.¡±

    Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t Leora.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hold back and strategize,¡± I said, scanning the forest edge. ¡°Rushing in without a plan won¡¯t help. Bob didn¡¯t specify cryptids, but that doesn¡¯t mean the creatures out here are any less dangerous. This is the sixth stage¡ªthere¡¯s got to be more to it than just animals.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow, her skepticism clear. ¡°Hopefully, you¡¯re not overthinking it,¡± she said, crossing her arms.

    ¡°Better to overthink than to be caught off guard,¡± I replied, my gaze following the hunters who were already vanishing into the trees. ¡°Besides, nothing about Bob¡¯s tests has been straightforward so far.¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± Black said, relaxing slightly. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? My spiders aren¡¯t great for exploring¡ªthey¡¯re built for surveillance, and they¡¯re way too small to cover much ground out here.¡±

    I gave him a reassuring nod. ¡°No worries. I¡¯ve got navigation covered.¡±

    While everyone else had been partying the night before, I¡¯d been quietly working, spreading my Soul Links throughout the area like webs during the party. These Soul Links served as anchor points, allowing me to build a rough mental map of the forest. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was better than wandering blindly.

    Thanks to my non-stop training, I could now manifest my Soul Links in a longer period of time¡­ of course, at the expense of my mental energy¡­

    I focused, bringing up the list of attributes I could borrow through my Soul Link. One caught my attention: ¡°Homing,¡± an ability from Gerry¡ªthe same guy who¡¯d tried to kill me earlier in the exams. His attribute was designed to guide projectiles to their targets, but I could adapt it to lead us toward the teleportation box.

    Borrowing the attribute, I felt a faint sense of direction solidify in my mind, like an invisible arrow pointing forward.

    ¡°Got it,¡± I said with a small smile.

    Even as I spoke, a creeping unease settled in my chest. The exams had been almost too easy for me so far, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the real test was still waiting¡ªthe one that would knock me back on my heels and leave me scrambling to survive.

    I glanced at Black. ¡°Mind if I borrow that pendant you got from the fifth stage?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°What for?¡±

    The items we¡¯d earned in the last exam weren¡¯t just rewards; they were high-quality, semi-finished Maker products¡ªessentially blank slates ready to be shaped into artifacts tailored to our aura. For most hunters, they were rare luxuries.

    I held up a hand, reassuring him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯m not going to steal it or change anything about it. I just need it as a medium for something.¡±

    Black hesitated for a moment, then handed over the pendant. ¡°Fine, but don¡¯t mess it up.¡±

    Taking the pendant, I turned my attention back to the forest.

    I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal chain and focused intently. Carefully, I imbued it with the homing attribute I¡¯d borrowed. The pendant began to tremble in my hand, and then, slowly, it floated upward, pointing in a specific direction like a compass drawn to its true north.

    Selena let out a low whistle. ¡°Now that is convenient.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Black¡¯s curiosity deepened into intrigue. ¡°How does it work?¡±

    I glanced at him, deciding that honesty wouldn¡¯t hurt¡ªespecially since the homing attribute wasn¡¯t technically mine. ¡°I used a borrowed attribute¡ªhoming¡ªto make the pendant point away from this area. It can only do that because I¡¯ve scattered my Soul Links as anchor points. They give me a rough sense of direction.¡±

    Both of them nodded, impressed. I could see the idea being mentally filed away for future use. The pendant¡¯s steady pull guided us forward, and we fell into formation: me at the front, Selena right behind, and Black flanking my left. Every step was deliberate, our movements synchronized and purposeful. We¡¯d honed this strategy for stealth, efficiency, and survival.

    Selena couldn¡¯t cloak us entirely in invisibility while we moved, but she¡¯d done something clever with her aura technique. She¡¯d disguised each of us to look like someone else in our group. I was disguised as Black, Black as Selena, and Selena as me. It was a solid countermeasure, one that would confound anyone trying to track or ambush us. If an attack came, the aggressor would likely target the wrong person.

    It was disconcerting, seeing each other in swapped guises, but I trusted the strategy. It weaponized deception itself, giving us another edge in this unpredictable test. That said, it wasn¡¯t foolproof. Hunters could spring an ambush regardless of what information they had, but at least we¡¯d made their job harder.

    The island was unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen. As the chairman had warned, the celestial phenomenon wreaked havoc on my perception. The landscape seemed to shift subtly, shadows flickered and stretched unnaturally, and a constant feeling of disorientation gnawed at my senses. Trees loomed darker, paths twisted and looped back on themselves in ways that defied logic, and even the stars above seemed to sway and distort, turning the night sky into a surreal mosaic.

    Still, with the techniques I¡¯d prepared, we stayed on course. The pendant, imbued with the homing attribute, led us steadily forward, while my Soul Links acted as a personal compass, recalibrating our bearings whenever the island¡¯s tricks tried to throw us off.

    Occasionally, cries and howls echoed from deeper in the forest, mingling with the sounds of scuffles and shouts from the hunters ahead of us. They were clashing with the beasts the island had unleashed. Their decision to charge ahead had turned them into bait, drawing the creatures¡¯ attention and clearing the way for us. It wasn¡¯t cowardice on our part¡ªit was strategy. By the time we reached those dangers, they¡¯d either be neutralized or distracted.

    Even so, I couldn¡¯t shake a sense of unease. This was almost too easy, just like the last tests. Was I actually overpowered? It felt strange, adapting so quickly to this world, to aura, to everything. My progress should have been gradual, fraught with struggle. Instead, I was mastering advanced techniques and executing complex strategies with alarming ease. It scared me, if I was being honest.

    I exhaled softly, pushing the thought aside. Dwelling on it wouldn¡¯t help. I had a purpose here, a reason that drove me forward. My family depended on me, and I couldn¡¯t afford to let doubts slow me down. Every step I took brought me closer to eliminating the threats looming over us.

    Black¡¯s hand shot up suddenly, signaling us to halt. He leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. Even though scouting wasn¡¯t his primary skill, Black¡¯s aura beasts made him the best scout we had. In a low whisper, he said, ¡°There¡¯s something up ahead. Be ready.¡±

    We went silent, instinctively tightening our formation.

    Black¡¯s signal brought us to a halt, our breathing shallow as we strained to see what he¡¯d noticed. The forest ahead was shrouded in a dense, unnatural darkness, the kind that swallowed light and blurred the lines between reality and illusion.

    Selena crouched low beside me, her hand resting on the hilt of her weapon. ¡°What do you see?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible.

    Black didn¡¯t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his body tense as if ready to spring into action at any moment. Finally, he muttered, ¡°Movement. Can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s hunters or something else.¡±

    I glanced at the pendant still floating before us, its chain trembling slightly as it pointed forward. Whatever was ahead, it was in our path.

    ¡°We need a plan,¡± I whispered, shifting my stance. ¡°If it¡¯s hunters, we might be able to negotiate¡ªor at least avoid conflict. If it¡¯s something else¡­¡± I trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

    Selena smirked faintly, though her eyes stayed sharp. ¡°Something else is more likely, given how quiet it¡¯s been. No way this test lets us stroll through without a fight.¡±

    I nodded. She wasn¡¯t wrong.

    The night sky stretched out like an endless canvas, the stars and moon offering just enough light to guide us through the darkness. The eerie glow of celestial light played tricks on the mind, making shadows twist and dance like living things. The air felt heavier, each breath tinged with the primal tension of being hunted.

    The moment it happened, it was almost too fast to process.

    A creature burst from the underbrush with a feral snarl, its form illuminated by the faint light. It leapt toward me with all the ferocity of a wolf, yet its humanoid shape gave it an unsettling edge. Standing upright on powerful hind legs, its sinewy muscles rippled under coarse, matted fur. Its face was a grotesque amalgamation of human and wolf¡ªlong snout, sharp fangs, and glowing red eyes brimming with unbridled rage.

    A werecreature. Not quite a true werewolf, but something close. Its aura wasn¡¯t as subdued or cunning as a full cryptid, but what it lacked in subtlety, it made up for in sheer berserk energy.

    I didn¡¯t hesitate. My instincts kicked in, and I leapt back, flicking my right hand to unleash a Soul Chain. The shimmering chain shot out like a streak of silver light, wrapping around the creature¡¯s torso in a fluid motion.

    As my Soul Chain made contact, my disguise dissolved, exposing my true aura in a radiant burst. The wolf-man faltered mid-lunge, its snarling maw snapping shut as hesitation flickered in its bloodshot eyes. It wasn¡¯t much, but the pause was all I needed.

    Selena didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. Moving in front of me with practiced precision, she raised her hands, and a pair of uzis materialized in her grip. The sleek weapons glinted in the moonlight as she pulled the triggers.

    The staccato roar of gunfire shattered the quiet of the night. A hail of bullets tore through the wolf-man¡¯s body, each shot precise and merciless. Blood sprayed in every direction as the creature let out a guttural howl, its once-feral energy reduced to a gory heap at Selena¡¯s feet.

    But the danger wasn¡¯t over.

    ¡°More incoming!¡± Black¡¯s voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent.

    I turned to see him raise his hand, his shadow stretching unnaturally beneath him. The dark silhouette writhed and contorted, taking on a monstrous form. It grew until it resembled a shapeless beast, its edges flickering like flames but with an unsettling solidity. Black¡¯s shadow beast bristled with dark energy, a menacing presence that seemed to defy the light of the stars.

    The forest erupted with movement. Shapes darted between the trees, their glowing red eyes piercing through the gloom. More wolf-men emerged, circling us in wide, predatory arcs. Their low growls and snapping jaws formed a sinister chorus, their hunger palpable.

    ¡°Selena, cover the flanks!¡± I shouted, pulling my weapon free from its holster.

    Selena nodded, spinning on her heel to unleash another volley of bullets at the encroaching pack. The muzzle flashes illuminated her fierce expression, her movements a deadly dance of precision and speed.

    Black¡¯s shadow beast lunged forward, slamming into one of the wolf-men with a force that sent it sprawling. The creature writhed under the weight of the shadowy mass, its snarls muffled as Black¡¯s beast smothered it with dark tendrils.

    I focused on the wolf-men closing in from the front. Channeling my aura, I sent out another Soul Chain, aiming to snare the nearest attacker. The chain wrapped around its legs, yanking it off balance and sending it crashing to the ground.

    Selena¡¯s bullets found their mark, tearing through another wolf-man as it lunged for her. Black¡¯s beast tore into a third, its dark tendrils slicing through flesh like a blade.

    But for every one we took down, it seemed like two more appeared from the shadows. The pack was relentless, their numbers growing with every passing second.

    ¡°Too many,¡± Selena hissed, her uzis smoking as she paused to reload. ¡°We can¡¯t hold this position!¡±

    She was right. If we stayed here, we¡¯d be overwhelmed.

    ¡°Fall back!¡± I ordered, my voice firm despite the chaos. ¡°We¡¯ll regroup deeper in the forest!¡±

    Black¡¯s beast retreated at his command, forming a protective barrier between us and the advancing pack. Selena and I moved in tandem, covering each other as we pushed toward a narrow path that veered away from the main trail.

    The wolf-men howled in frustration, their cries echoing through the trees as we disappeared into the darkness.

    We didn¡¯t stop until the sounds of pursuit faded into the distance. Only then did we pause, catching our breath in the oppressive stillness of the forest.

    Selena wiped blood from her cheek, her expression grim. ¡°That was too close.¡±

    Black nodded, his shadow beast retreating into him as his aura stabilized. ¡°They¡¯re not just animals,¡± he said, his voice low. ¡°Something¡¯s driving them, coordinating them. This isn¡¯t random.¡±

    I clenched my fists, my mind racing. He was right. The werecreatures were more organized than they should¡¯ve been, their movements too deliberate for a mindless pack.

    Whatever was behind this, we¡¯d have to figure it out¡ªand fast.

    ~034

 035 Into the Wildâ€™s Embrace

    XXXV

    We instinctively shifted into formation, standing back-to-back as the pack closed in. My heart thudded steadily, adrenaline sharpening my senses. I bent down, grabbed a rock, and crushed it in my hand, letting the fragments tumble into my palm. Channeling my aura, I imbued the pieces with the homing attribute. With a flick of my wrist, I hurled the fragments at the wolf-men. Each shard locked onto a target, streaking through the air like tiny, deadly missiles.

    The snarling creatures faltered, some dodging, others taking hits that slowed their approach. I scanned the encroaching pack, calculating their positions. A quick count told me there were at least a dozen of them, maybe more.

    ¡°We¡¯re surrounded,¡± I said quietly, my voice steady despite the tension. ¡°About twelve of them. Could be worse.¡±

    The forest around us felt alive with menace, the wolf-men''s glowing red eyes watching from every direction. We were in for a fight, no question about it.

    I pocketed the pendant I¡¯d been using as a guide and turned to Selena and Black, keeping my movements deliberate. ¡°We¡¯ve got two choices: punch through and avoid a direct fight, or stand our ground and take them head-on.¡±

    Selena didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d rather deal with them now than have these beasts breathing down our necks later.¡± Her tone carried an edge of irritation, and I didn¡¯t blame her.

    Black crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the circling creatures. ¡°If we¡¯re punching through, how fast do you think we¡¯d make it?¡±

    ¡°Slower,¡± I admitted, weighing the risks. ¡°But it¡¯d save aura. We¡¯d avoid most of the fighting and conserve our strength.¡±

    Black frowned slightly, shaking his head. ¡°Too conservative, Reynard. Sometimes the best way out is straight through. Attack head-on, get it over with.¡±

    His tone carried a subtle edge, like he was challenging me. I felt a flicker of annoyance but pushed it down. There was no point in letting ego distract me now.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said evenly. ¡°Slaughter them, then. Do as you like.¡±

    Black¡¯s grin turned sharp and predatory. ¡°With pleasure.¡±

    He stepped forward, breaking formation as his shadow beast unfurled around him. The writhing darkness morphed into a chimera-like monstrosity, its snarling heads and elongated limbs giving it a grotesque, otherworldly appearance. It exuded raw malice, ready to tear into the wolf-men.

    Selena and I stayed back, holding the line while Black waded into the fray.

    The forest erupted into chaos. The wolf-men howled and snarled, their bloodlust palpable as they launched themselves at Black. His chimera met them head-on, tearing through their ranks with brutal efficiency. Each attack distorted its shadowy form, making it more nightmarish.

    There was something unsettling about the way Black moved¡ªtoo precise, too eager. It wasn¡¯t just a fight to him; it was entertainment.

    I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. A sudden burst of aura filled the air as six wolf-men lunged at us from all sides. My instincts flared, and I reacted instantly. My aura surged outward, transforming into a web of Soul Chains. The chains snaked through the air like living tendrils, brushing against the creatures and coiling around them. Their movements froze as the chains embedded into their aura, locking them in place.

    Selena didn¡¯t miss a beat. She dismissed her uzis with a flick of her wrists, summoning a heavy shotgun in their place.

    ¡°Time to clean up,¡± she said with a smirk.

    She fired off a brutal blast, the shotgun¡¯s recoil barely slowing her as she moved from one restrained wolf-man to the next. Each shot hit its mark, tearing through flesh and bone with ruthless precision. Blood spattered across my suit, and I clicked my tongue in irritation.

    ¡°Not my fault you¡¯re slow on your toes,¡± Selena said with a shrug, her smirk widening as she racked the shotgun. ¡°And another one bites the dust.¡±

    The last wolf-man fell with a heavy, graceless thud.

    Selena lowered her weapon, scanning the area for any lingering threats. Black strode back to us, his shadow beast retreating into him as he rejoined the group.

    ¡°Efficient,¡± he said, his grin still faintly predatory. ¡°Told you it¡¯d be faster this way.¡±

    I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. The fight had gone our way, but the pack¡¯s sheer ferocity was a reminder of what this island could throw at us.

    ¡°We can¡¯t keep burning aura like this,¡± I said, my tone firm. ¡°We¡¯ll need to adjust if we¡¯re going to make it through.¡±

    Selena nodded, her smirk fading into a more serious expression. Black simply shrugged, as if conserving aura was a secondary concern to him.

    We regrouped, the eerie silence of the forest settling around us once more. The fight was over, but the night was far from done.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Black strolled back toward us, his movements casual and unhurried, as if he hadn¡¯t just been in the middle of a blood-soaked frenzy. He dusted off his hands with a satisfied grin stretching across his face.

    ¡°I took care of seven of them,¡± he announced, his tone nonchalant. ¡°And their Alpha was among them, by the way.¡±

    I glanced over at the carnage surrounding us, counting the bodies. Sixteen wolf-men lay scattered across the forest floor.

    ¡°That makes twenty-three in total, then,¡± I remarked, keeping my tone even. My gaze flicked to the faint glow of the stars overhead, distorted by the island¡¯s strange celestial phenomenon. ¡°For the record, I¡¯m not exactly a Seeker or a Reader.¡±

    Selena shot me a sly look, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. ¡°Funny. Most people assume you¡¯re a Reader.¡±

    Black raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. ¡°First I¡¯m hearing that.¡±

    I turned to him, suppressing a flicker of frustration. We didn¡¯t have time for idle chatter, but I needed to make sure we were all on the same page.

    ¡°How good are your detection abilities?¡± I asked, keeping my tone measured. The island¡¯s warped landscape and disorienting aura were wreaking havoc on my senses, and I knew I¡¯d need to lean on whatever strengths Black could bring.

    He shrugged, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. ¡°Good enough to sense an ambush before it happens, but not much more. I wouldn¡¯t count on it for precise intel in the middle of a fight.¡±

    I nodded, filing that information away. ¡°Fair enough.¡± My ¡®compass¡¯ was an excellent tool to reach the finish line, but the ambushes would be problematic.

    Selena stepped behind me, taking her position as we fell back into formation. She restored our disguises with a subtle shift of her aura. My appearance morphed to match Black¡¯s, Black took on Selena¡¯s form, and Selena mirrored mine. It was a clever trick, though limited to confusing human hunters. The beasts we faced weren¡¯t likely to be fooled.

    Once we were ready, I pulled out the pendant again and focused, channeling aura into it to reapply the homing attribute. The chain floated upward, trembling slightly before pointing forward, guiding us deeper into the forest.

    The shadows pressed in around us as we moved, the forest alive with eerie noises¡ªsnaps of twigs, distant howls, and the rustle of unseen creatures. Occasionally, a stray wolf-man or beast-man would dart out from the darkness, lunging with feral aggression. But between my Soul Chains, Selena¡¯s rapid-fire precision, and Black¡¯s monstrous shadow beasts, we dispatched them swiftly.

    Despite the sporadic attacks, we advanced steadily. The forest was dense, its paths winding and unpredictable, but the pendant¡¯s guidance and my scattered Soul Links kept us on track.

    The links, spread over a fair distance, offered more than just direction. They gave me glimpses of what lay beyond our immediate surroundings. Through them, I sensed the other hunters¡ªthose who had taken a different route, hugging the edge of the beach.

    At first, it seemed like a smart choice. The beach might have avoided the forest beasts, but the celestial phenomenon was working against them. I felt their movements through the links, caught in loops as if their perception had been twisted by the island¡¯s strange energy. It was a disorienting, endless cycle.

    I exhaled quietly, grateful for our decision to stick to the forest. If we¡¯d had a competent Seeker, we might¡¯ve risked the beach route, but now it was clear that staying within the trees had been the better option.

    Time passed in a blur of cautious steps and brief skirmishes. The days melted into one another, marked only by the steady pulse of danger around us and the unwavering pull of the pendant leading us forward.

    The island didn¡¯t let up, its warped reality challenging us at every turn. Yet, as the hours stretched into days, we pressed on, determined to see this through. The endgame was approaching, and with every step, I felt the weight of what lay ahead.

    By the fourth day, the monster attacks came more frequently. The forest seemed alive with agitation, the creatures prowling with a restless hunger that filled the night air with howls and growls. Each skirmish became a test of endurance, the monsters more aggressive and unpredictable than before.

    Occasionally, through the thick canopy of trees, I caught glimpses of other teams. They moved like shadows, always distant, always wary. None of us dared approach one another. The stakes weren¡¯t about beating them to the destination¡ªwe still had until the ninth day to reach the end¡ªbut the unspoken tension between hunters was palpable. Trust was a rare commodity here.

    The forest¡¯s layout grew more treacherous the further we advanced. My Soul Links gave me glimpses of those caught in loops near the end of the path. They didn¡¯t seem to realize it, their movements doubling back or veering off into dead ends. The celestial phenomenon on this island twisted perception, and every wrong turn they made reinforced our cautious approach. If we got lost now, it could mean the end.

    Survival came naturally to me after two years spent in the mountains. That time hadn¡¯t been wasted. I¡¯d learned to read the land, find food, and make do with whatever nature provided. Even in these strange conditions, I kept Selena and Black fed and hydrated.

    ¡°Are you sure those aren¡¯t poisonous?¡± Selena asked skeptically as I handed her a leaf.

    ¡°Positive,¡± I replied, tossing her another. ¡°That¡¯s mountain spinach. High in iron. Pretty common in forests like these.¡±

    She sniffed it cautiously before taking a tentative bite. ¡°Hmm, not bad. So, you really survived out here, huh? Mountains and all?¡±

    I nodded, scanning the underbrush for more edible plants. ¡°Two years in the wild. You either pick up a lot, or you don¡¯t make it.¡±

    Black, who was keeping an eye on our surroundings while his shadow beast prowled ahead, chimed in. ¡°Pretty handy. Wish I¡¯d known some of that earlier; could¡¯ve saved me a few¡­ inconvenient meals.¡±

    Selena snorted. ¡°Like what, bugs?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± he replied with a faint grin, waving her off. ¡°But I¡¯m more than comfortable in a jungle, with or without greens.¡±

    Selena wasn¡¯t as at home in the wilderness. She¡¯d grown up navigating urban jungles, and I caught her muttering now and then about missing city lights and paved streets. Still, I noticed her watching me as I foraged or checked our heading, clearly trying to pick up tips. Black, on the other hand, didn¡¯t seem fazed by the forest. He didn¡¯t need survival skills¡ªhis shadow beasts and aura manipulation were enough to handle most situations.

    By the sixth day, we finally reached our destination.

    Rising before us was an elevated platform. The structure was simple¡ªa rectangular box with no embellishments¡ªbut the faint glow of aura surrounding it marked it as something significant. This was the teleportation box Chairman Bob had mentioned.

    We climbed onto the platform, taking one last look at the dense forest we¡¯d fought through. The air felt heavy with exhaustion, but there was also relief.

    ¡°Finally,¡± Selena muttered, rolling her shoulders.

    Black stretched, his shadow beast retreating into him as he grinned. ¡°Not bad. Could¡¯ve done with a bit more excitement, though.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond, focusing instead on positioning myself in the center of the platform.

    With a sudden, blinding flash of light, the world around us dissolved. The forest vanished in an instant, replaced by the unknown as we were transported to the next stage of this harrowing journey.

    ~035

 036 Aboard the Skyward Deck

    XXXVI

    The teleportation left a faint ringing in my ears as the world around me reassembled. When the sensation passed, I found myself standing on an open-air deck. A brisk wind rushed to meet me, cool and sharp, carrying the unmistakable thinness of high altitudes. I took in the scene: an airship, its structure a seamless blend of polished metal and reinforced wood, humming steadily beneath my feet.

    Beside me, Black stumbled forward, clutching his stomach with a look that was equal parts queasy and horrified. His usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be found as he made a few weak ¡°blegh¡± noises. Selena took an immediate step back, wrinkling her nose.

    ¡°Oh, come on, Black. Altitude sickness already?¡± Selena teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

    Black shot her a death glare but didn¡¯t dignify her with a response. Instead, he bolted toward the nearest door, presumably to find a place to quietly lose his lunch.

    Selena shook her head, amused. ¡°He could¡¯ve just leaned over the rail. Drama queen,¡± she muttered.

    I shrugged, stifling a laugh. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s shy. Wants to keep it private.¡±

    The deck was alive with movement, other hunters milling about as they adjusted to their new surroundings. These were the strong ones, the survivors of every stage before this. Their expressions ranged from wary to resolute, though none paid us much attention.

    Despite the tension hanging in the air, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Standing on an airship like this, high above the world, was exhilarating. The hum of the engines, the expansive sky stretching endlessly in all directions¡ªit was almost enough to make me forget where we were heading. Almost.

    As we wandered across the deck, a staff member approached us. At least, that¡¯s what I assumed at first glance. She wore a maid outfit, though it was far from conventional. The skirt was alarmingly short, and the blouse was cut just low enough to ensure her platinum blonde hair and striking blue eyes weren¡¯t the only things catching attention.

    Before I could decide whether her attire was part of some strange uniform or a personal choice, a sharp pinch jabbed into my side. I turned to find Selena glaring at me, her voice low and sharp.

    ¡°You already have a wife, remember? Try to look a little less enchanted,¡± she hissed.

    I coughed, straightening up. ¡°Point taken.¡±

    The maid stopped in front of us, holding out a pair of keys. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes gleamed with a knowing light.

    ¡°Welcome aboard,¡± she said, her voice smooth and detached. ¡°I¡¯m Atropos. You and your teammates are free to use the airship¡¯s facilities as you see fit.¡± She handed each of us a key.

    Atropos. The name stopped me cold. I¡¯d written her into existence¡ªpart of the Hunter Association¡¯s upper echelons. She wasn¡¯t just any hunter, though. Atropos was legendary, a mentor figure who had shaped countless lives in my story. And now, here she was, standing before me.

    ¡°Thank you¡­ Atropos,¡± I managed, my voice steady despite the swirl of thoughts racing through my head.

    Her eyes flicked to mine, her lips curving into a faint smile. ¡°Wanna get shagged?¡± she asked, her tone completely flat.

    I blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    She repeated it without missing a beat, her expression as calm as ever. ¡°Wanna get shagged?¡±

    Selena¡¯s face turned crimson, her fury bubbling to the surface. ¡°What is your problem, lady?¡± she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. ¡°I know I¡¯m flirtatious, but you¡ªyou¡¯re on another level!¡±

    I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands. This was spiraling out of control. ¡°I¡¯m already married,¡± I said firmly, hoping to put an end to the madness.

    Atropos shrugged, her demeanor unchanged. ¡°I¡¯d be fine being the mistress.¡±

    Before I could process that, Selena¡¯s elbow slammed into my ribs.

    ¡°OW! What was that for?¡± I grumbled, rubbing the sore spot.

    ¡°You¡¯re staring at her chest like an idiot,¡± Selena hissed. ¡°Leora would kill you if she saw that.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t staring!¡± I protested, but Selena¡¯s glare told me she wasn¡¯t buying it.

    Atropos turned away with a casual, ¡°Some other time, then,¡± and walked off without a second glance.

    Selena rounded on me, her grin infuriatingly smug. ¡°You better pray I don¡¯t tell Leora about this.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re joking,¡± I muttered.

    She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll let it slide. But you owe me.¡±

    I sighed, deciding to change the subject. Tapping her shoulder, I activated her aura¡¯s attribute, Disguise. In an instant, Selena shrank down to knee height, her arms crossed as she glared up at me.

    Her tiny, high-pitched voice screeched, ¡°GODDAMNIT!¡±

    I grinned, turning away as her furious shouts echoed behind me. If nothing else, it was a satisfying end to an awkward encounter. I headed for my room, eager for a shower and a moment of peace. This was shaping up to be a very long journey.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    And I¡¯m frankly tired¡­

    If only I could time-skip the entire examination¡­

    Behind me, the rapid patter of tiny footsteps echoed down the hallway. I glanced back, barely holding back a laugh as Selena¡¯s miniature form barreled toward me, her fists clenched and her face flushed with frustration.

    ¡°Turn me back! Turn me back!¡± she shrieked, her high-pitched voice both furious and desperate.

    I quickened my pace, smirking as she tried to keep up. ¡°Can¡¯t hear you, Selena! Too small!¡± I called over my shoulder, enjoying the moment a little too much.

    By the time I reached my room, she was practically seething. Her tiny form pounded on the door as I slipped inside, quickly locking it behind me. To be safe, I dragged a chair over and wedged it under the doorknob.

    ¡°You¡¯re a dead man!¡± Selena¡¯s muffled voice shouted from the other side, accompanied by the faint sound of tiny fists thumping against the wood.

    Safe at last, I let out a satisfied sigh and headed straight for the bathroom. After days of trudging through the wilderness, a hot shower was exactly what I needed.

    The water was bliss, washing away layers of grime and tension. I leaned against the tiled wall, letting the heat soothe my sore muscles. For a few minutes, I allowed myself to relax, shutting out everything¡ªSelena¡¯s shouting, the trials, the endless challenges. It was just me and the steam.

    When I finally stepped out, a towel wrapped around my waist, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. Curious, I grabbed it, swiping open the notification.

    It was from Leora.

    My heart skipped a beat as I opened the message. She¡¯d received the package I¡¯d sent before leaving for the trials¡ªa Lover tarot card, something I¡¯d chosen to symbolize us. Her reply included a photo, and it stopped me in my tracks.

    Leora stood in the frame, wearing an oversized shirt that hung loose over her curves, leaving plenty to the imagination. The faint smirk on her lips sent a thrill up my spine. I saved the picture, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. Even in the middle of all this chaos, she had a way of grounding me, reminding me why I was fighting so hard.

    Shaking off the lingering warmth from her message, I dressed in the simple clothes provided in the room: a plain shirt and jeans. After everything we¡¯d been through, even basic clothes felt like a luxury. I set my suit¡ªa custom aura-conductive piece with chain-mesh reinforcement¡ªaside for cleaning. The airship¡¯s automatons would take care of it, ensuring it was in top shape for whatever came next.

    With that handled, I decided to explore.

    The airship was incredible, a floating city in the sky. Compared to the wild, untamed forest we¡¯d just endured, this place was practically paradise. I wandered through its halls, marveling at the amenities: a casino, a caf¨¦, a billiard room, and more. It felt surreal to go from survival mode to this kind of luxury.

    Passing the casino, I spotted Geoffrey standing at a slot machine, his usual composed expression replaced with a look of intense concentration. I chuckled, shaking my head. Who knew the guy had a gambling streak?

    Further along, the billiard room caught my attention. Shen was there, leaning over the table, his sharp eyes tracking every ball. He was deep in a betting game, his opponents visibly nervous as he lined up his next shot.

    I walked along¡­ and away¡­

    The caf¨¦ was a welcome escape from the noise of the airship¡¯s main halls. The aroma of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the occasional clatter of dishes. It was quieter than the casino or the billiard room, a good spot to unwind.

    As I stepped inside, my eyes were drawn to a table near the corner where Black sat hunched over a chessboard. His opponent, a wiry guy with curly hair and a leather jacket, was clearly struggling to keep up. Even from a distance, it was obvious Black had the upper hand.

    I grabbed an iced coffee at the counter and strolled over, curiosity getting the better of me. Black¡¯s focus was razor-sharp, his movements precise as he cornered his opponent piece by piece.

    ¡°Checkmate,¡± Black said, his tone flat but unmistakably triumphant as he moved his queen into position.

    Oppossite Black was a seething hunter. Probably a Trickster, just a wild guess though. ¡°Damn, you¡¯re good,¡± he muttered, staring at the board as if it had personally betrayed him.

    I pulled up a chair nearby, smirking as I sipped my coffee. ¡°Not bad for someone who was practically trembling from the altitude earlier,¡± I teased, watching for Black¡¯s reaction.

    Black¡¯s expression twitched, just enough to tell me I¡¯d hit a nerve.

    The Trickster¡¯s ears perked up at that, and he looked at Black with a newfound spark of amusement. ¡°You¡¯re afraid of heights?¡± he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

    Black clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. ¡°It¡¯s just a minor inconvenience,¡± he muttered before giving me a look that said shut up.

    Then, without missing a beat, he gestured to the Trickster. ¡°Anyway, this is Dummy.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, unsure if I¡¯d heard that right. ¡°Dummy?¡±

    The Trickster grinned, completely unfazed. ¡°Yep, that¡¯s my real name. Blame my parents,¡± he said, leaning back in his chair like he was used to this reaction.

    I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°Nice to meet you, Dummy,¡± I said, still processing how someone could own a name like that so confidently.

    Dummy shrugged, his grin widening. ¡°It grows on you. Besides, it keeps people underestimating me, which is always fun.¡±

    Despite the self-deprecating humor, Dummy didn¡¯t seem like a fool. His small frame and impish demeanor gave him a mischievous vibe, and the way he carried himself¡ªrelaxed but alert¡ªhinted at a sharp mind.

    Black, meanwhile, was resetting the chessboard with methodical precision, his expression as stoic as ever.

    ¡°Impressive game, Black,¡± I said, raising my coffee in a mock toast.

    He grunted in response, though I caught the faintest flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He didn¡¯t care for compliments, but he wasn¡¯t above enjoying a well-earned victory.

    Dummy leaned forward, his grin turning sly again. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re up for a game?¡± he asked, his eyes darting between me and the board.

    I shook my head, laughing. ¡°I¡¯ll pass. I¡¯m more of a spectator when it comes to chess.¡±

    ¡°Smart move,¡± Dummy said, winking. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to embarrass yourself in front of a master like me.¡±

    Black snorted at that, his lips twitching into what might¡¯ve been a smirk. ¡°Master, huh? You just lost.¡±

    Dummy waved it off, unfazed. ¡°Yeah, but it was a close loss. Besides, everyone knows a real Trickster never shows their full hand.¡±

    I sipped my coffee, watching the two of them banter. For all the chaos of the trials, moments like this were a reminder that we were still human¡ªflawed, funny, and trying to make the best of the madness around us.

    Black¡¯s challenge hung in the air, sharp and unspoken, as he gestured toward the chessboard. ¡°Dealer to dealer,¡± he said, his smirk betraying his confidence.

    I leaned forward, meeting his gaze with my own grin. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±

    Dummy, still nursing his bruised ego from the last game, gave an exaggerated sigh as he slid out of his seat. ¡°Good luck,¡± he said, mock-saluting me. ¡°You¡¯ll need it.¡±

    I chuckled, taking the spot across from Black. He was already leaning back in his chair, exuding an irritatingly relaxed confidence.

    ¡°Got a coin?¡± Black asked, his tone casual, as though he wasn¡¯t already plotting my demise on the board.

    I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small coin, holding it between my fingers. ¡°Head or bird?¡±

    ¡°Bird,¡± Black said without hesitation, his voice steady.

    With a flick of my thumb, the coin spun through the air before clinking onto the table. It settled on bird. Black gave a faint, satisfied nod.

    ¡°I¡¯ll play black,¡± he said, already leaning forward to set up his pieces.

    ~036

 037 Playing Chess

    XXXVII

    I sat across from Black, eyeing the chessboard he¡¯d arranged with meticulous precision. Something about his setup seemed almost too perfect, so I reached out and swapped the King and Queen¡¯s positions, nudging them just slightly.

    Black¡¯s frown was immediate. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with annoyance. ¡°You know the Queen and King should be facing each other, right?¡±

    I shrugged, casually returning the pieces to their original places. ¡°Just testing your attention to detail.¡±

    He gave me a flat look but nodded for me to start. I moved my pawn from E7 to E5, and he responded instantly, moving with the confidence of someone who already knew how this game would end.

    A few moves in, Dummy, who had been leaning against the wall watching us, snickered. ¡°Wow¡­ you suck.¡±

    I rolled my eyes but didn¡¯t respond, focusing on the board. Black, meanwhile, pressed forward with his signature precision, each move forcing me into a tighter and more uncomfortable position. His focus was unnerving¡ªlike he wasn¡¯t just playing chess but dissecting my thought process at the same time.

    Before long, my King was boxed in, and I was out of options.

    ¡°Checkmate,¡± Black announced, leaning back with an expression that managed to be both smug and detached.

    I laughed, raising my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Alright, you got me.¡±

    Dummy peered at the board and scoffed. ¡°Seriously, dude, that was rough. I didn¡¯t think anyone could lose that fast.¡±

    I shot him a look. ¡°Like you should be talking. You didn¡¯t even last as long as I did!¡±

    Dummy grinned, completely unfazed. ¡°Hey, at least I put up a fight and used my special ability. You? You just let him walk all over you.¡±

    I felt my eyebrow twitch but managed a smirk. He wasn¡¯t entirely wrong, though. As I glanced at Black, something about his playstyle caught my attention. Every move had been made with an exact five-second pause, like he was calculating every possible response before committing. Another trick of his aura ability, perhaps?

    Not that it mattered. Winning had never been my goal.

    ¡°Man, sore loser much?¡± Dummy teased, folding his arms with an exaggerated pout.

    I rolled my eyes and gave a half-smile. ¡°Alright, alright. You got me.¡±

    Just then, a scruffy-looking man approached our table. He wore a mix of pirate and marine attire¡ªpatched leather boots, a well-worn naval hat, and a thick brown beard that gave him a rugged charm. His piercing eyes scanned the chessboard before he dragged over a chair and sat down uninvited.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you all play,¡± he said in a gravelly voice. ¡°Mind if I have a go?¡±

    I smirked, standing up and gesturing to my seat. ¡°All yours.¡±

    As he settled in, he introduced himself. ¡°Name¡¯s Joe.¡±

    Black gave a curt nod. ¡°Black.¡±

    Joe studied the board, a glint of mischief sparking in his eye. ¡°How ¡¯bout we make it more interesting? A little wager?¡±

    Black¡¯s interest was piqued. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±

    Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver ring. It looked simple, but I recognized it immediately¡ªa semi-finished Maker product, just like the ones we¡¯d earned back in the fifth stage.

    ¡°This ring,¡± Joe said, holding it up, ¡°for whatever reward you got from the fifth stage.¡±

    Black¡¯s smile widened. ¡°You¡¯re on.¡±

    They began setting up the pieces, and I stepped back, intrigued to see how this match would play out.

    As they finished, I took out my coin and raised an eyebrow at Joe. ¡°Head or bird?¡±

    Joe¡¯s eyes gleamed with confidence. ¡°Bird.¡±

    I flipped the coin, catching it on the back of my hand. It was bird.

    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re playing white,¡± I said with a smirk, stepping back to sip my coffee.

    ¡°I¡¯ll play white,¡± Joe confirmed, leaning forward.

    The game began, and the caf¨¦ seemed to quiet as their pieces clashed in a meticulous, calculated dance. Joe¡¯s face was calm but focused, each move deliberate. His Maker-type aura pulsed subtly, giving him an edge in adapting his strategy. Black¡¯s expression, on the other hand, was a mask of intensity, his ¡°demons¡± clearly fueling his gameplay.

    Their abilities clashed in an invisible duel as they strategized and recalculated at a furious pace. The board shifted constantly, neither willing to give an inch.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I finished my coffee, watching the game stretch on longer than I expected. The tension between them was palpable, the stakes more than just the ring or the reward¡ªit was a battle of pride.

    Finally, after what felt like hours, Joe leaned forward and moved his queen into position. Black¡¯s eyes flicked over the board, searching for a way out, but there was none.

    ¡°Checkmate,¡± Joe said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

    Black sat still for a moment before letting out a low chuckle. ¡°That was a fun one, Joe. Haven¡¯t had a match like that in a while.¡±

    Joe leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between Dummy and me. ¡°You two want a go?¡± he asked, his tone light but inviting.

    Dummy shook his head quickly with a sheepish grin on his face as he glanced at Black. ¡°Nah, I know better after losing to him,¡± he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

    But I wasn¡¯t Dummy.

    Black stood from his seat, walking to the counter to order coffee, leaving the chair open. I rolled my shoulders and slid into his place, flashing Joe a confident smile. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±

    Joe¡¯s grin widened as he reached into his pocket and placed both semi-finished Maker products on the table. His confidence radiated as he leaned back, arms crossed. ¡°Alright, kid. What do you have to offer?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but match his boldness. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re sure you want to wager those?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Because if we¡¯re playing, you¡¯d need to throw in your ship too.¡±

    The room seemed to pause. Black and Dummy exchanged confused glances, but Joe let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned. Not many people recognize me that easily. Clever catch, kid.¡±

    It was frankly and painfully obvious who Joe was¡­ He was wearing a patchwork of pirate-like or marine-like clothes. I sighed at the thought¡­

    Turning to Black and Dummy, I gave a mock bow, introducing our new friend with a touch of flair. ¡°This here¡¯s Joe the Sky Ruler, owner of the airship we now reside and a high-ranking member of the Hunter Association.¡±

    Joe nodded, the grin still lingering on his face. ¡°Much as I¡¯d love to gamble it, I can¡¯t put the airship on the line¡ªit¡¯s worth a bit more than my left hand.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I replied smoothly. ¡°Then let¡¯s settle on something else. How about three favors, those two semi-finished Maker products,¡± I pointed to the items on the table, ¡°and one more thing¡ªa custom piece of gear, made by you personally.¡±

    His eyes lit up with interest. Joe was a renowned Maker, his crafted gear legendary. My terms were ambitious¡ªborderline outrageous¡ªbut that only seemed to stoke his curiosity.

    ¡°Bold demands,¡± he said, amusement glinting in his gaze. ¡°So, what are you putting on the table? Honestly, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d want anything from you¡­¡±

    I let out a cryptic smile across my lips, keeping him guessing. A little mystique went a long way in this line of work. After a moment, I revealed my wager: ¡°Information on the legendary weapon¡ªExcalibur.¡±

    Joe¡¯s eyes widened, disbelief plain on his face as he stared at me. ¡°Impossible,¡± he murmured, leaning forward as if trying to read the truth in my expression.

    Black turned sharply toward me, his frown deepening, though he held back any objections. Dummy, meanwhile, blinked in utter confusion.

    ¡°What¡¯s this all about?¡± Dummy finally asked, scratching his head.

    Black answered before I could, his tone low and serious. ¡°Excalibur. A powerful Maker artifact. Rumored to be crafted by an ancient Maker¡ªa weapon that raised a king from the ruins of the Dark Ages.¡± He shook his head slowly. ¡°I always thought it was just a legend.¡±

    Joe crossed his arms, his grin fading into a cautious smirk. ¡°If that¡¯s true, maybe I should back out of this wager,¡± he said, though the challenge in his voice hadn¡¯t disappeared. ¡°No way to verify if you¡¯re telling the truth. And even if it is Excalibur, my airship wouldn¡¯t be worth a tenth of its value.¡±

    I inclined my head, acknowledging his point. ¡°Fair observations,¡± I admitted. ¡°If I had the means, I¡¯d have claimed it for myself by now. But trust me, it wouldn¡¯t matter¡ªit¡¯s fabled to choose its own master.¡±

    Black nodded in agreement, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. ¡°Excalibur¡¯s no ordinary weapon. Even the stories say it¡¯s¡­ selective.¡±

    For a moment, the table fell silent, each of us lost in thought about the legendary relic. The weight of its name hung heavy in the air.

    I broke the quiet, my tone calm but firm. ¡°So, do you still want to play a game with me? What¡¯s it going to be, Joe?¡±

    Joe leaned forward, his expression a mix of intrigue and excitement. ¡°Alright, kid,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°Let¡¯s play.¡±

    I leaned forward, keeping my tone casual but persuasive. ¡°Joe, let¡¯s be honest¡ªthe chance to even catch a glimpse of something like Excalibur? That alone should make this gamble worth it, right? But for the sake of fairness, I¡¯ll ask one more time: Do you wish to play?¡±

    After a pause, he murmured, ¡°That¡­ is indeed the case, but I think I can handle you just fine.¡±

    Black vacated his seat, giving me a brief glance as he stepped aside. I slid into the chair, my hand accidentally brushing against the board. A few pieces toppled over, clattering softly onto the surface.

    I offered a sheepish smile. ¡°Oops, my bad.¡±

    Carefully, I propped each piece back up, taking my time as my fingers grazed every single one. With each touch, I planted my aura on the pieces, the subtle pulse of my ability invisible to the untrained eye.

    Joe¡¯s brows drew together slightly as he watched me, his sharp instincts likely catching onto my maneuver. But he didn¡¯t say a word, his smirk betraying his amusement. After all, I knew he¡¯d be using every trick in his own arsenal too.

    ¡°To keep things fair,¡± I said as I straightened the last piece, ¡°how about we agree on a touch-move rule?¡±

    Joe¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Agreed.¡±

    In the world of hunters, chess wasn¡¯t just a game of intellect¡ªit was an unspoken battlefield where bending the rules was practically a rule itself. Cheating was a given, a tool wielded as skillfully as any calculated move. Here, manipulation, foresight, and subtlety were as vital as raw strategy.

    Joe¡¯s intense gaze, coupled with the occasional twitch of his fingers, told me he wasn¡¯t here to play fair. And, honestly, neither was I. This wasn¡¯t a game of honor; it was a test of who could outmaneuver the other¡ªon the board and beyond it.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. This was as good a practice as any.

    With a confident toss, I handed the coin to Dummy, calling, ¡°Man.¡± He flipped it, and sure enough, it landed on ¡°man.¡± I smiled as I claimed white. ¡°I¡¯ll take the first move.¡±

    The game began with a simple opening: E2 to E4.

    Four moves later, Joe¡¯s king was in checkmate.

    Joe blinked, his disbelief plain as he slowly rose from his seat, visibly unsettled. ¡°What did you just do?¡± he demanded, staring at the board like it had betrayed him.

    I let out a laugh, savoring his reaction. ¡°Now, why would I go and give away my secret?¡± I said, flashing a sly grin. Leaning forward, I decided to up the stakes. ¡°Tell you what¡ªlet¡¯s make this interesting. I¡¯ll give you a second chance. Lots of second chances. If you win even once, all the favors you owe me are void. But if you lose again, I¡¯ll add one more favor to the list.¡±

    Joe hesitated, his brow furrowed. ¡°So... I get multiple tries?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± I leaned back, smirking. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Afraid? Never thought a once-fearsome pirate would back down from a rookie like me.¡±

    That did it. His pride wouldn¡¯t let him walk away. Gritting his teeth, Joe sat back down. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, leaning forward with renewed determination.

    The poor bastard fell hook, line, and sinker.

    ~037

 038 The Gamblerâ€™s Grin

    XXXVIII

    Aware of Joe¡¯s gambling tendency, I decided this was a golden opportunity.

    This time, I took black, giving him the opening advantage. But Joe wasn¡¯t taking any chances now. His aura flickered faintly as he focused, and I could feel him systematically dispelling the Soul Marks I¡¯d left on the pieces. Before we began, he pulled out a small vial, swallowing its contents, and slipped two rings onto his fingers. Whatever they did, he was ready to use everything he had.

    Joe made his first move.

    I turned to Dummy and asked, ¡°Dummy, if you let me borrow your aura for the rest of the match, I¡¯ll give you one of the semi-finished Maker products I won.¡±

    Dummy¡¯s eyes lit up at the offer. He deliberated for a moment before nodding. ¡°Deal,¡± he said eagerly.

    As I handed him the ring, I brushed my hand against his, connecting to his aura. What I picked up surprised me¡ªan attribute literally called Retardation, designed to distort cognition and subtly slow brain activity. Not bad at all.

    Rather than Retardation, it could also be called Weakness attribute if I was to interpret it in a more general manner like how I viewed thematic powers.

    I wove the attribute into my own aura, sending out a faint wave toward Joe. He seemed oblivious to the effect creeping over him, but as the game progressed, his focus faltered. Small missteps began to accumulate, and a few rounds later, he was in checkmate again.

    Joe stared at the board in frustration, his fists clenched. I leaned back, smirking. ¡°That¡¯s four favors now, Joe.¡±

    His face flushed as he tried to compose himself, his pride clearly bruised.

    The games pressed on, but Joe had the spirit of a gambler who didn¡¯t know when to quit. Each loss only fueled his determination, as if the next game would finally be his redemption. By his sixth loss, he¡¯d figured out how to block the Retardation effect, setting up a defense that neutralized it. But by then, he was already neck-deep in owed favors.

    Not one to lose my edge, I pivoted to a new strategy. Combining my puppetry attribute with my connection ability, I subtly nudged his pieces just enough to throw off his moves. The shifts were so minor they went unnoticed, but they were fatal for his positioning.

    Joe, too focused on countering Retardation, didn¡¯t notice my new tactic. His confusion grew as his pieces inexplicably landed in the worst possible spots.

    Several brutal losses later, Joe finally snapped to reality. Realizing he was only digging himself deeper, he groaned, cursed under his breath, and shoved back his chair. ¡°Damn it all,¡± he muttered, standing up in defeat.

    He shot one last glare at the board, then at me. ¡°You¡¯re something else, kid,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°But don¡¯t think I¡¯m letting this go. I¡¯ll be back.¡±

    I watched Joe storm off, a smirk tugging at my lips. Eleven favors safely in my pocket¡ªmore than I¡¯d anticipated from a single night.

    Stretching, I stifled a yawn. The airship was quiet now, the hum of its engines blending with the faint creaks of the hull as it glided through the night sky. Most passengers and staff had already retired, leaving the once-bustling corridors eerily calm.

    Black remained seated at the chess table, his sharp eyes fixed on me.

    ¡°I get how you won the later matches,¡± he said, his voice low but tinged with curiosity. ¡°But that first one? I don¡¯t see it. Four moves? Joe¡¯s no beginner.¡±

    I smirked and shrugged. ¡°A mystery for another time,¡± I replied, deliberately vague. Rising from my seat, I left him to stew over it, my steps light as I headed toward my quarters.

    As I walked down the empty corridor, a thrill ran through me. The hidden mechanism behind that first victory played over in my mind. The truth? Aura sabotage.

    That first match had been one-sided because, with a subtle touch, I¡¯d altered Joe¡¯s aura just enough to steer him off course. It wasn¡¯t blatant control¡ªjust a gentle nudge, a subconscious whisper that made him miscalculate. The secret lay in a thin connection I could maintain by borrowing someone¡¯s aura and returning it. Through that thread, I could influence them, not enough to dominate, but enough to disrupt their rhythm.

    The beauty of it was its near invisibility. Affecting someone¡¯s aura at such a subtle level was almost impossible to detect. It was like leaving a fingerprint in their subconscious, one they¡¯d never realize was there. With practice, I¡¯d learned to make their aura slip out of sync, or even go berserk if I wanted to push things further. But tonight, all I¡¯d needed was a little nudge.

    Just as I neared my quarters, someone bumped into me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

    I stepped back, startled, only to see Geoffrey standing before me. His scruffy hair looked even messier than usual, and he was dressed like he¡¯d just stepped off a beach: a neon, floral-patterned Hawaiian shirt and worn beach shorts that looked out of place against the airship¡¯s polished corridors.

    ¡°Geoffrey,¡± I said flatly, my irritation already bubbling.

    He grinned, leaning in like he had some grand secret to share. ¡°Heard you¡¯re a betting man, eh?¡± he said, his tone playful. ¡°How about a little game with yours truly?¡±

    I sighed, glancing past him. ¡°Not interested. Move aside.¡±

    But Geoffrey shifted, blocking my path with a casual stretch. ¡°Aw, come on. Just hear me out!¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    I narrowed my eyes, suppressing the urge to shove him out of the way. ¡°Geoffrey, I¡¯m giving you one last chance to move,¡± I said, my tone cold. ¡°Or you will be moved.¡±

    He held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. ¡°Easy, easy! Just listen for a second,¡± he pleaded, taking a step back with a chuckle. ¡°You won¡¯t regret it.¡±

    I glared at him, irritation simmering as I took in his obnoxious outfit and his ever-present grin. Geoffrey had always struck me as the kind of guy who played the fool to hide whatever schemes were brewing in his head. I didn¡¯t trust him, and I certainly didn¡¯t like him.

    Still, he insisted on blocking my path. Fine. I¡¯d hear him out. But if this turned out to be some ridiculous joke, he¡¯d regret it. The airship didn¡¯t have any no-kill rules, after all.

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Geoffrey winced, his grin faltering slightly as he read my expression. ¡°Ooof, so much killing intent... chill down, man,¡± he said, chuckling nervously. His grin didn¡¯t waver, but I caught the subtle shift in his stance¡ªhe was on guard, just in case.

    I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. ¡°What kind of bet are you proposing, then?¡±

    ¡°Simple,¡± he said, straightening up with a casual shrug. ¡°We take guesses on the theme for the next test. The closer you are, the more points you get for accuracy.¡±

    I frowned, keeping my reaction neutral. This wasn¡¯t just some ridiculous whim¡ªGeoffrey had to know something. Something important. Something I didn¡¯t. As annoying as he was, I couldn¡¯t ignore the possibility that he had an edge here.

    I studied him carefully, noting the gleam in his eyes as he leaned in slightly, sensing I was at least intrigued.

    ¡°What¡¯s the wager?¡± I asked, keeping my tone cool.

    ¡°Information for information,¡± he replied smoothly, like he¡¯d rehearsed this moment a hundred times.

    My interest cooled instantly. ¡°Not interested.¡±

    Geoffrey chuckled, unbothered by my dismissal. ¡°Oh, but I think you will be,¡± he said, his voice low and teasing. He leaned in a little closer, his grin widening as he dropped the bait. ¡°It¡¯s about the Elsewhere Cult.¡±

    My expression hardened. That name alone was enough to make me pause. I weighed my words carefully. ¡°What information are you looking for in exchange? And if this is really about the Elsewhere Cult, why don¡¯t we just trade?¡±

    Geoffrey leaned back, his grin sly and infuriatingly smug. ¡°Because, my friend, the information is worth a lot more if I hold on to it. Besides,¡± he added with a casual shrug, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind selling it to you later¡­ after you lose.¡±

    His arrogance grated on me, but I couldn¡¯t deny that he¡¯d baited my curiosity well enough. He knew I wouldn¡¯t walk away easily now.

    I raised an eyebrow, cutting straight to the point. ¡°So, why not just let me pay you double the information? I¡¯d owe you a favor, too.¡±

    Geoffrey shook his head, his grin widening. ¡°While the offer is¡­ tempting,¡± he said, his tone dripping with mock consideration, ¡°I¡¯m doing this for the thrill of it. It¡¯s just more fun to bet.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said, suppressing a sigh. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    His eyes gleamed with a sudden intensity that caught me off guard. ¡°The location of Excalibur.¡±

    For a moment, I just stared at him, the sheer audacity of his demand rendering me speechless. Then, I burst into laughter. It wasn¡¯t polite laughter, either¡ªit was the kind that shook my shoulders and made my sides ache.

    Geoffrey stood there, watching in silence, his expression calm and unreadable.

    That was when it hit me¡ªhe was dead serious.

    I forced myself to calm down, though disbelief was still all over my face. ¡°You really think I¡¯d give up something like that?¡± I asked, looking him up and down as if to confirm that he wasn¡¯t just playing some elaborate joke.

    But Geoffrey¡¯s grin didn¡¯t falter. If anything, it seemed to grow more confident, as though my reaction had only confirmed something he¡¯d suspected all along.

    I gave him a hard look, searching for any crack in his resolve, but he held firm. ¡°Fine,¡± I said, my voice sharp with resolve. ¡°I¡¯ll humor you and play your game. But we¡¯re doing this right¡ªthe judge will be the airship captain.¡±

    Geoffrey shook his head, his smirk pulling at his lips like he¡¯d been waiting for this. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think so. I don¡¯t trust the captain,¡± he replied smoothly. ¡°I happen to know he owes you a few favors.¡±

    He let that sit between us for a moment, his confidence radiating off him.

    ¡°Let¡¯s have it locked up,¡± he continued. ¡°We¡¯ll put our guesses in a metal box, and it¡¯ll be handed to a third party¡ªsomeone neither of us have any ties to. We¡¯ll open it after the exam, fair and square.¡±

    I narrowed my eyes, mulling over his suggestion. He¡¯d anticipated every loophole I might¡¯ve tried to exploit, boxing me into his terms. I liked it less with every second, but there was no turning back now. If he had information about the Elsewhere Cult¡ªand if he was willing to bet this much on it¡ªit had to be worth it.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I finally agreed, my voice firm.

    Geoffrey¡¯s hand shot forward, and we shook on it.

    Shortly after¡­

    Atropos arrived with her usual stoic demeanor, her steps measured as she approached Geoffrey and me in the airship¡¯s quiet observation lounge. She stopped a few paces away, her neutral gaze flicking between us. ¡°I understand I¡¯m to play mediator?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow.

    I nodded, keeping my expression calm. ¡°Yes. We need someone trustworthy for the exchange.¡±

    Atropos folded her arms, tilting her head slightly as she appraised Geoffrey with her usual cool detachment. ¡°And my compensation?¡±

    Geoffrey sighed dramatically, reaching into his pocket. ¡°Fine, fine. Always business with you, Atropos.¡± He pulled out a jade bracelet, its intricate carvings shimmering faintly with a Maker¡¯s subtle glow.

    I recognized it immediately. It was one of the semi-finished artifacts from the fifth stage¡ªa valuable piece he¡¯d gone to great lengths to win. The fact that he was parting with it now spoke volumes about how much he wanted this game to proceed.

    He handed it over with visible reluctance. ¡°Here,¡± he said, the faintest scowl tugging at his features.

    I watched the exchange with amusement. ¡°Seems you have a conscience after all,¡± I remarked with a smirk playing on my lips.

    Geoffrey shot me a sharp look, but I just grinned wider, reveling in his irritation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this done,¡± Atropos said, examining the bracelet briefly before tucking it into her pocket. Satisfied, she pulled out a small, unassuming metal box from her satchel.

    I scrawled my guess on a slip of paper, folding it tightly before handing it over. Atropos took it without a word, slipping it into the box. The faint click of the lid closing echoed in the quiet room.

    ¡°Your turn,¡± she said, her gaze shifting to Geoffrey.

    He scribbled his own guess with a calm expression, folding the paper with care before passing it to her. Atropos added it to the box, shut the lid firmly, and locked it with a small, ornate key.

    ¡°There,¡± she said, holding the sealed box with an air of authority. ¡°You¡¯ll find out who wins once the next exam is over.¡±

    Geoffrey leaned back, shooting me a quick, challenging grin. ¡°Looking forward to it.¡±

    I met his gaze evenly, my tone laced with quiet confidence. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re as clever as you think.¡±

    Atropos, unbothered by the tension between us, pocketed the box with an unreadable expression. ¡°You¡¯ll get it back when the time comes,¡± she said simply. ¡°Until then, play nice.¡±

    She turned and walked away, leaving Geoffrey and me standing in silence.

    ¡°Well,¡± Geoffrey said after a moment, his grin still intact, ¡°I¡¯ll let you stew on your chances. Sweet dreams, my friend.¡± He turned on his heel and sauntered off, the picture of infuriating confidence.

    I stayed behind, staring at the door he¡¯d exited through. Geoffrey was too smug for his own good, but his confidence wasn¡¯t without reason. Whatever information he held about the Elsewhere Cult, it was tied to this bet¡ªand I couldn¡¯t afford to lose.

    The box was locked, and the wager set. All that remained now was to wait for the next test to unfold.

    ~038

 039 The Descent

    XXXIX

    The days after Geoffrey and I made our wager, we settled into a rhythm that felt almost calm. It was a rare break from the usual chaos. I finally returned to my quarters that night, the quietness of the space a welcome reprieve after the day¡¯s antics. Between training sessions, I spent my time exploring the airship¡¯s amenities, mingling with other hunters, and occasionally scouting for potential clients. The hunter world had its own intricate network of power brokers and fixers, and it was never too early to sow the seeds of opportunity.

    By the ninth day since this stage began, the exam finally concluded. Tradition dictated that all hunters who passed would gather in the grand ballroom for a celebration. The room buzzed with the energy of relieved hunters, each one glad to have another grueling stage behind them.

    ¡°Hey, Reynard!¡± A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned just in time to see Selena approaching, her usual grin replaced by a mock scowl. She punched my shoulder lightly. ¡°I¡¯m still mad about that transformation prank, you know.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, her lingering frustration amusing me more than it probably should have. Her narrowed eyes suggested she was debating whether to let her temper loose, but instead, she sighed dramatically. Before I could tease her further, she caught sight of Shen entering the ballroom. A flash of panic crossed her face, and without another word, she bolted.

    Shaking my head, I let my gaze wander across the room. Black was slumped in a corner, his complexion pale and his expression grim. He avoided looking up, likely unnerved by the transparent ceiling that offered a clear view of the sky. His fear of heights was something he¡¯d never quite shaken, and the ballroom¡¯s design did him no favors.

    Over at the buffet, Dummy was inhaling food like a man possessed, his plate an ever-rotating assembly line of dishes. Not far from him, Geoffrey was in his own world, devouring clams at a speed that bordered on inhuman. A growing pile of empty shells sat beside him, forming a small mountain.

    President Bob eventually made his grand entrance, looking slightly more dignified than usual. His red cape was as gaudy as ever, but he¡¯d paired it with a suit this time, an attempt to appear formal. The effort didn¡¯t quite land, but no one here cared about appearances. Most hunters wore their rugged gear, though a few, like me, opted for attire that balanced formality with function.

    Bob raised his glass, a single flick of his finger creating a clear chime that silenced the room. His booming voice carried easily over the crowd.

    ¡°Congratulations, hunters, on your victory!¡± His broad grin made it clear he was enjoying himself. ¡°Now, onto the next test: it will be Caster-inspired!¡± His grin widened, relishing the ripple of intrigue that spread through the room. ¡°The next stage will be a race, filled with Caster obstacles for you to overcome along the way. And of course, feel free to make your preparations accordingly. But for now?¡±

    He lifted his glass higher, his eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°Now¡­ we party!¡±

    Cheers and applause erupted around me. While many hunters relaxed in the celebration, I could see the gears turning in some of their minds. A Caster-inspired race meant one thing: traps, spells, and plenty of magical chaos. For most of us, tonight would be the last chance to relax before the real challenge began.

    The President¡¯s early reveal of the next exam¡¯s theme was unusual, practically an invitation to strategize and prepare. It was a luxury we rarely had, and the hunters who slipped out of the ballroom early were clearly intent on taking advantage of it.

    My eyes drifted back to Geoffrey, who was watching me with his usual self-satisfied smirk. He practically radiated smugness, clearly assuming he¡¯d won our bet. I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, though. If he thought I¡¯d let him outplay me, he was in for a rude awakening.

    Instead, I turned my focus to the celebration. The ballroom was alive with laughter and camaraderie, a rare reprieve in the high-stakes world we lived in. These moments, brief as they were, reminded me why we fought so hard to stay in the game.

    Still, even as I let myself enjoy the festivities, the thought of the next exam loomed in the back of my mind. A Caster-inspired race was bound to be unpredictable, filled with magical traps and obstacles that would test even the most adaptable hunters. It wasn¡¯t the kind of challenge that played to my strengths, but I had enough tricks up my sleeve to hold my own.

    One thing was certain: there was no room for complacency. Tonight, I¡¯d enjoy the celebration. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.

    The ballroom had mostly emptied by the time I decided to approach Black. He sat in a shadowed corner, his posture tense, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor beneath the transparent ceiling. His fear of heights wasn¡¯t born of any personal trauma¡ªit was part of the steep price he paid for enslaving devils. For every devil he captured, he inherited a new negative trait. His Shadow Devil had saddled him with this irrational fear, a weakness that now left him visibly rattled.

    As I neared, I pulled out the pendant he¡¯d lost to Joe. The intricate charm glinted faintly in the dim light as I handed it over. ¡°Take me along in the race tomorrow,¡± I said, keeping my tone steady.

    Black looked up, meeting my gaze. For a moment, his unease flickered in his dark eyes, but then he nodded, his expression hardening with determination. ¡°I¡¯ll do my part,¡± he said firmly. ¡°So you better do yours.¡±

    With Black¡¯s support secured, I felt a surge of confidence. The upcoming race would be brutal, but having him on my side was no small advantage. Still, I couldn¡¯t ignore the pragmatism that defined most alliances here. Black might have agreed to work with me, but our partnership was based on mutual benefit. The moment I became a liability, he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to cut me loose.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    I mulled over the unspoken fragility of our arrangement as Selena sauntered over. Her carefree grin made it hard to gauge whether she was genuinely relaxed or just masking her nerves. ¡°Need a ride?¡± she asked, holding up a keychain.

    I blinked, caught off guard, as she clicked a button. The keychain transformed into a sleek, compact motorbike¡ªdesigned for speed above all else.

    ¡°What¡¯s your strategy?¡± I asked, curious despite myself.

    She smirked. ¡°Speed and precision. It¡¯s built to weave through tight spaces and outrun just about anything.¡±

    I studied the bike for a moment, weighing my options. While it was undoubtedly fast, its lightweight design leaned more toward fragility. With me as an added burden, it¡¯d lose its edge and put both of us at risk.

    ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯ll stick with Black¡¯s setup,¡± I said finally. ¡°Safety first.¡±

    Selena¡¯s expression turned serious, her usual playfulness fading. ¡°What¡¯s the plan, then?¡±

    I met her gaze. ¡°Follow your instincts. Prioritize your own safety. This race is going to be brutal, and I don¡¯t want you holding back for my sake.¡±

    She hesitated, her brow furrowing, but eventually nodded. ¡°Fine. Just don¡¯t make me regret not dragging you along.¡±

    As the evening wore on, I mingled with the other hunters, playing the part of the amicable competitor. A friendly conversation here, a casual clap on the shoulder there¡ªit was all a calculated act. Each interaction left behind a faint trace of my Soul Link, subtle enough that no one would notice.

    When the ballroom emptied and the hunters retired to their quarters, my real work began. Cloaked by Selena¡¯s disguise attribute, I moved silently through the airship¡¯s dim corridors, connecting with the threads of Soul Link I¡¯d established. One by one, I siphoned a sliver of aura from each hunter, careful to keep the drain subtle.

    Back in my room, I channeled the stolen aura into my coin, forging it into a finely tuned artifact for divination. The process required precision, and as the last remnants of aura settled into the coin, I severed the Soul Links, returning the depleted essence to its owners. By morning, they¡¯d feel the effects¡ªa faint fatigue they wouldn¡¯t be able to place.

    Just as I finished, a faint commotion echoed from the hall. I smirked. They¡¯d realize soon enough how much they¡¯d been sapped, but by then, it¡¯d be too late.

    Satisfied with my preparations, I made a quick call to my wife. Her voice was a welcome comfort after the day¡¯s scheming, and we shared a few lighthearted words before saying goodnight.

    ZzzzzZzzzz¡­

    Zzzzzzzz¡­

    ZzzZzz¡­

    Dawn broke over the horizon, casting the airship in golden light. The hunters gathered on the deck, their breaths visible in the crisp morning air. The tension was palpable, a mix of excitement and apprehension as we waited for the next stage to begin.

    President Bob stood near the crow¡¯s nest, his red cape fluttering in the wind. His expression held its usual mix of amusement and authority, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

    Nearby, for the first time, Joe took the wheel. The ship had been on autopilot for most of our journey, so seeing him in command drew murmurs of curiosity from the hunters.

    We rose above the clouds, the airship slicing through the morning sky. The light softened, casting pale reflections across the vast, pillowy expanse. The air was thinner here, cold and sharp, but manageable for hunters. Then, to our left, a structure emerged¡ªa jagged, foreboding silhouette breaking through the clouds.

    The Fighting Tower loomed like a cruel beacon, its dark surface jagged and steep, reaching endlessly into the sky.

    President Bob¡¯s voice rang out, cutting through the tension with a sharp clarity. ¡°Hunters, behold the Fighting Tower!¡± His grin was wide, mischievous, as his gaze swept across the assembled competitors. ¡°The rules are simple: Race. Race with your life on the line! The finish line is within the gates at the base of the Fighting Tower!¡±

    A murmur rippled through the crowd, nervous glances exchanged as the reality of the challenge settled in.

    ¡°And a word of caution,¡± Bob continued, his voice almost teasing. ¡°It¡¯s quite high up here. Hopefully, you all have the means for a safe descent!¡±

    The tension spiked. Hunters edged closer to the airship¡¯s railing, their eyes flicking between the edge and the distant tower. Strategies were already forming, plans being weighed against the risk of the drop.

    Bob raised his hand, fingers splayed as he began the countdown.

    ¡°One¡­¡±

    The word hung in the air, dragging the seconds into an agonizing stretch. Hunters adjusted their gear, muttered quick prayers, or simply braced themselves for the chaos to come.

    ¡°Two¡­¡±

    I gripped Black¡¯s arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as his gaze remained fixed on the vast, open sky. His fear of heights was palpable, his breathing uneven.

    ¡°Three!¡±

    Bob¡¯s final word thundered through the air, and chaos erupted.

    Hunters surged forward, leaping from the ship in a flurry of movement. Selena shot past me, her massive kite billowing open as it caught the wind. ¡°Come on!¡± she shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of the wind.

    Without hesitation, I latched a Soul Chain to her kite, feeling its energy pulse as it wrapped securely. Black clung to me, his usual composure shaken by the sheer drop beneath us. Selena glanced back, her eyes sharp with determination as she skillfully maneuvered the kite, its fabric straining against the wind.

    Others weren¡¯t as lucky. A few hunters, desperate for an advantage, targeted us mid-air. They launched projectiles or reached out with their own abilities, trying to force us off balance.

    But I was ready.

    With a snap of my fingers, the Soul Marks I¡¯d placed at the party the night before activated. Chains of energy shot out from their clothes, ensnaring anyone who dared come too close. They struggled, panicked, but the chains held firm, locking them in place until we were safely out of their reach.

    The rules were clear: race with your life on the line. If they fell to their deaths, that was their problem, not mine.

    We hit the ground hard but steady, the impact jarring. Black wasted no time, summoning his Shadow Devil¡¯s power. From the darkness at his feet, a massive, spectral horse emerged, its form both eerie and powerful. I swung onto its back, gripping Black¡¯s waist as the creature surged forward.

    The landscape blurred around us, the dark horse kicking up dust and grit as it galloped with unrelenting speed. The Fighting Tower loomed ahead, its gates visible in the distance.

    Selena zipped past us on her motorbike, a sleek and nimble blur of motion. She called out over her shoulder, ¡°I¡¯ll scout ahead!¡±

    Just before she vanished down the trail, she tossed something back at me¡ªa small earpiece. I caught it mid-air and popped it in, immediately hearing the steady sound of her breathing through the comms.

    ¡°Look at you, going all out,¡± I teased, grinning as I leaned closer to the mic.

    She paused for a beat, her tone turning matter-of-fact. ¡°Well, someone has to make sure you don¡¯t fail this exam after coming this far.¡±

    Her bluntness had me laughing despite the tension.

    ¡°Let¡¯s win this race,¡± I said, determination surging through me as the Fighting Tower grew larger on the horizon.

    ~039

 040 The Race to Gold

    XL

    The ground beneath us rumbled violently, sending jolts through Black¡¯s shadow horse. The beast stumbled but quickly regained its footing. Before we could recover, Bob¡¯s voice thundered overhead, brimming with amusement.

    ¡°Hunters! Only the first 50% to cross the finish line will pass this exam! Do your best¡ªor fall behind!¡±

    The announcement sent shockwaves of panic rippling through the hunters. Fear mixed with desperation, and everyone¡¯s pace quickened. There was no time to breathe, let alone hesitate.

    A woman glowing with an aura of speed zipped past us, her smirk flashing as she called over her shoulder, ¡°Catch me if you can, slowpokes!¡±

    Black urged his mount forward, shadows billowing like smoke in our wake. Just as we began to close the gap, I noticed a figure above us¡ªa hunter riding a sleek, floating surfboard. He swooped down with ease, overtaking us effortlessly.

    I pressed my earpiece. ¡°Selena, heads up. Speedster and surfboard guy are closing in on you.¡±

    Her response was calm, her voice crackling through the comms. ¡°Speed girl¡¯s already here¡ªand not as clever as she thinks.¡±

    The distant sound of explosions confirmed Selena was already setting traps.

    We pushed harder, Black¡¯s shadow horse galloping at full tilt. The speedster reappeared beside us, her eyes narrowing as she glared. Just as she prepared to surge ahead, the ground beneath her feet turned to quicksand. She yelped as she sank to her knees, her momentum broken.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the slowpoke now?¡± I muttered with a smirk as we sped past her.

    Selena¡¯s voice came through again, steady and focused. ¡°Marsh ahead. Looks like harmless flowers, but it¡¯s crawling with crocodiles. Avoid it.¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± I replied, relaying the warning to Black. He steered sharply to the right, bypassing the marsh entirely. A few hunters weren¡¯t as lucky¡ªventuring too close, they triggered the trap. The vibrant flowers morphed into snarling, toothy predators, snapping hungrily at their prey.

    ¡°Next hazard: weird rain,¡± Selena warned. ¡°It¡¯s dense, like iron. Nearly tore my bike apart.¡±

    I scanned the sky, spotting dark clouds rolling in. Heavy droplets began to fall, clinking like metal as they hit the ground. Black maneuvered us in a zigzag, dodging the lethal downpour.

    Selena¡¯s updates came fast and precise:

    ¡°Lava flow incoming from the left.¡±

    ¡°Gravity reversal ahead¡ªbrace yourselves.¡±

    ¡°Invisible walls¡ªfollow this pattern: hard right, sharp turn, long left, then another right.¡±

    Each warning was relayed to Black, who adapted with precision, guiding us through the obstacles. The race was a gauntlet of hazards designed to test every skill a hunter possessed. Selena¡¯s directions were our lifeline, her foresight keeping us ahead of the chaos.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just give the earpiece to Black?¡± she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

    ¡°Because you trust me to make the calls,¡± I replied without hesitation.

    Selena chuckled. ¡°Fair enough. Let¡¯s keep it that way.¡±

    The hours dragged on, each new challenge more grueling than the last. Hunters scattered across the field, avoiding confrontations where they could. But not everyone was content to play it safe.

    Through the Soul Links I¡¯d planted earlier, I felt the tension mounting. A group of hunters was converging behind us, their intent clear¡ªthey wanted us out of the race.

    ¡°Black, we¡¯ve got company,¡± I warned, tightening my grip.

    He glanced over his shoulder, his expression darkening. ¡°Let them try.¡±

    As the first hunter closed in, I snapped one of my Soul Chains, wrapping it around his leg. He struggled, his balance faltering, and fell back into the pack. Another lunged forward, only to be met with a burst of shadow from Black¡¯s mount, forcing him to retreat.

    ¡°Stay focused,¡± Selena¡¯s voice cut in. ¡°The finish line¡¯s close. Don¡¯t let them slow you down now.¡±

    Her words reignited my determination. We pushed harder, dodging every attack and hazard thrown our way. The jagged silhouette of the Fighting Tower loomed in the distance, its gates glowing like a beacon.

    This race wasn¡¯t over yet¡ªbut we were getting closer with every step.

    A harsh burst of static crackled in my earpiece, followed by Selena¡¯s voice, sharp and laced with irritation. ¡°Motherfucker, someone just sent a missile my way! Good thing I¡¯ve got a spare bike!¡±

    I barely had time to process her words when I caught a glint of metal streaking toward us¡ªa missile, tearing through the air with lethal precision. My pulse spiked. Whoever fired it wasn¡¯t just trying to slow us down; they wanted us out of the race entirely.Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Black, faster! We¡¯ve got incoming!¡± I shouted.

    Black gritted his teeth, shadows billowing like smoke as he pushed the shadow-horse to its limit. ¡°This is the fastest I can go!¡± he growled, frustration simmering in his voice.

    The missile closed in, its high-pitched whine slicing through the chaos of the race. My mind raced, weighing options, each one more desperate than the last.

    Then I saw it¡ªa faint shimmer of aura outlining the missile. A Maker¡¯s work. That was all I needed to know.

    Channeling my own aura, I summoned my Soul Chains, the energy writhing and snapping as though alive. With a flick of my wrist, the chains shot out, coiling around the missile in a vice-like grip. The propulsion sputtered as I forced it to a dead stop, holding it suspended in mid-air.

    ¡°Come on,¡± I muttered through clenched teeth, pouring more energy into the chains. The missile struggled for a moment before dropping to the ground with a dull thud, fizzling out harmlessly.

    I exhaled, tension easing just slightly. ¡°That¡¯s one problem solved.¡±

    Black glanced back, wide-eyed. ¡°Next time, maybe give me a warning before you pull something like that.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to ruin the thrill.¡±

    But I wasn¡¯t about to let that missile stunt slide. Hunters knew the rules: you hit someone, you¡¯d better be ready for the fallout. Revenge wasn¡¯t just satisfying¡ªit was expected.

    I sifted through the web of Soul Links I¡¯d planted earlier, feeling out the nuances of each hunter¡¯s aura. It didn¡¯t take long to find the culprit. His aura practically screamed ¡°missile,¡± radiating a cocky confidence that made me grin.

    Too far for a direct attack, but distance didn¡¯t matter with a Soul Link. I drew on the energy of fifty hunters, their auras pooling into me like a flood. Carefully, I balanced it all, then sent it back¡ªevery ounce of it¡ªto the missile guy.

    I imagined his face when the aura debt hit him like a brick wall. Good luck recovering from that, buddy.

    The race pressed on, chaos erupting at every turn. Selena¡¯s updates came through the earpiece like clockwork, each warning crucial.

    ¡°Pitfall coming up. Hard left!¡±

    Black veered sharply, the shadow-horse skidding just inches from the edge of a gaping hole.

    ¡°Lightning rain ahead,¡± Selena called. ¡°Stay low and find cover!¡±

    We darted beneath an overhang, dodging the electrified downpour as bolts struck the ground in blinding flashes.

    Further ahead, trees twisted unnaturally, their branches snapping toward us like jaws. ¡°Stay close to me!¡± I shouted, guiding Black through the labyrinth of grasping limbs.

    Each obstacle was more brutal than the last, but we kept our pace. Hunters around us scrambled, some falling victim to the traps, others barely hanging on.

    The speedster girl reappeared, her aura crackling with energy as she zipped through the terrain like a bolt of lightning. She drew closer, her smug grin flashing as she prepared to overtake us.

    Not happening.

    With a flick of my wrist, my Soul Chain lashed out, wrapping around her legs. She stumbled, her momentum broken just long enough for us to pull ahead.

    ¡°Better luck next time,¡± I muttered, smirking as her curses faded behind us.

    Selena¡¯s voice came through again, calm and steady. ¡°The finish line¡¯s close. Don¡¯t lose focus.¡±

    I tightened my grip on Black, determination flaring. The race wasn¡¯t just about winning anymore¡ªit was about proving we belonged here, that we could handle whatever this insane course threw at us.

    The Fighting Tower loomed in the distance, its gates glowing like a promise. We weren¡¯t there yet, but we were getting closer.

    Hunters of all kinds darted through the landscape, their methods of transportation ranging from the ingenious to the downright absurd.

    Ahead of us, a sleek, muscular horse bounded gracefully across the terrain. Its shimmering aura revealed the truth¡ªit wasn¡¯t a mount but a hunter in full transformation mode. Impressive, sure, but no match for Black¡¯s shadow beast. We surged past, leaving the equine competitor in our wake.

    Next, we came upon a figure wobbling precariously on an old-fashioned bicycle. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a joke or sheer desperation, but the sight of him pedaling furiously almost made me laugh. Black¡¯s shadow horse shot ahead, leaving the cyclist struggling to keep his balance.

    Then came the pogo stick guy. Yes, a pogo stick. He bounced furiously, his aura flaring with every leap, as if sheer determination alone would propel him to victory. I had to admire his commitment, even as we sped past him, his frustrated grunts fading into the distance.

    The landscape blurred as we raced on, but a sudden flash of light drew my attention. A teleporter materialized ahead of us, his jumps chaotic and uncoordinated. He¡¯d appear a few feet ahead, vanish, then reappear farther off, his movements erratic and frantic. Without precision, he was all over the place, unable to maintain a consistent lead.

    A low, menacing snarl broke through the noise, and I turned to see a woman riding a massive wolf. The beast¡¯s powerful strides matched our pace, its claws digging into the ground with feral intensity. The hunter¡¯s gaze locked onto mine, a challenging gleam in her eyes. For a moment, it seemed like she might overtake us, but as we rounded a sharp turn, her mount stumbled. She fought to regain control, her balance wavering, and we surged ahead once more.

    The final stretch was pure chaos. Hunters converged from all directions, their desperation palpable as they pushed their Gifts and skills to the limit. The air buzzed with tension, every competitor fighting for a coveted spot among the top fifty percent.

    Selena¡¯s voice crackled through my earpiece. ¡°I¡¯m already at the finish line. Hurry up!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re right behind,¡± I replied, my eyes locking onto the massive metal gates in the distance. They loomed like the promise of salvation¡ªor the edge of a cliff, depending on how you fared.

    Black urged his shadow steed forward with one last burst of speed. The beast¡¯s hooves pounded the ground in a relentless rhythm, its shadowy form a blur against the frenzied backdrop of the race. I tightened my grip, leaning into the motion as we barreled toward the gates.

    The crowd of hunters thinned slightly as we neared the finish line, their numbers dwindling as some fell behind or were swallowed by the traps still lurking in the course. The gates began to close, their heavy, grinding sound a stark reminder that time was running out.

    ¡°Faster, Black!¡± I shouted.

    With a final, desperate leap, Black¡¯s shadow horse propelled us forward, its form dissipating into wisps of darkness just as we crossed the line. We landed on solid ground, sliding to a stop as the gates clanged shut behind us.

    The sudden stillness was jarring after the chaos of the race. Hunters were scattered around, some gasping for breath, others glaring at the gates as if sheer willpower could have forced them open a second longer.

    I straightened up, adjusting my jacket and trying to look more composed than I felt. Black was visibly drained, his shoulders slumping as he wiped sweat from his brow.

    A familiar tap on my back made me turn. Selena stood there, smirking, her expression a mix of teasing and acknowledgment.

    ¡°Not too shabby,¡± she said, her tone light but with an edge of sarcasm. Her gaze flicked to Black, clearly noting his exhaustion. She knew how much I relied on others¡ªon their strength, their speed, their endurance¡ªto get through situations like this.

    I shrugged, brushing off her comment. Borrowed power or not, it had gotten us across the finish line. That was all that mattered.

    ~040

 041 The Vending Machine?

    XLI

    The Fighting Tower loomed before me. It was a testament to architectural ambition and, frankly, the weirdest structure I¡¯d ever encountered. At first glance, it looked like a traditional tower¡ªtall, narrow, and imposing. But once inside, it was clear that the name was misleading. There were no distinct levels or floors, no neatly organized rooms stacked on top of one another. Instead, the interior stretched endlessly upward, a massive, distorted dome that seemed to defy logic.

    It felt like the space itself was warped, as though someone had taken the concept of a building and twisted it into a pocket dimension. The air buzzed with a faint hum of energy, a constant reminder that this wasn¡¯t just a physical space but a construct of compressed and altered reality.

    The Tower wasn¡¯t just a test of strength or skill; it was a labyrinth of hidden passages and maze-like features designed to test a hunter¡¯s strategy, wit, and resilience. Every twist and turn could be an opportunity or a trap, depending on how well you could navigate its unpredictable terrain.

    But the most unsettling aspect of the Tower wasn¡¯t its design¡ªit was its true purpose. Anyone with even a basic understanding of the Tower knew it wasn¡¯t just a battleground. It was a recorder, a data-gathering machine disguised as a testing ground. Every movement, every shift in aura, every technique unleashed¡ªit was all being logged, analyzed, and stored.

    This wasn¡¯t common knowledge. Only a select few, like the president and his inner circle, truly understood the scope of the Tower¡¯s surveillance. Hunters entered under the guise of competition, unaware that their every strength and weakness was being dissected in real time. The whole thing felt invasive, like having your diary read aloud to a room full of strangers.

    Still, I wasn¡¯t too worried. Let them record. My techniques weren¡¯t the kind you could replicate just by watching. To truly understand them, you¡¯d have to experience them firsthand, and that wasn¡¯t something I planned on making easy for anyone.

    I turned my attention to the massive screen dominating the main hall. It displayed the rankings from the last exam. The sheer number of participants¡ª128 hunters¡ªwas overwhelming. My eyes scanned the list, zeroing in on my name.

    Ninety-ninth. Too close for comfort.

    Black wasn¡¯t far ahead, sitting at ninety-eighth, while Selena had managed to snag fifty-second place. Relief washed over me at seeing our names on the board, but it was short-lived. Ranking this low meant there was no room for error in the next stage.

    The screen flickered, and suddenly, President Bob¡¯s shiny bald head filled the display. His dorky red cape fluttered slightly, though there was no breeze, and his thick, outdated lenses only added to the ridiculousness of the image.

    ¡°Hello?¡± he said, his voice unsure as he tapped at the lenses. ¡°Hello? Is it working?¡±

    The hall fell silent, a collective awkwardness settling over the hunters.

    A second voice, exasperated but amused, broke through the quiet. ¡°It¡¯s working, President. Just go ahead.¡±

    Bob straightened, clearing his throat dramatically. ¡°Ah, yes! Right! Thank you!¡± He gave the camera a forced smile, clearly trying to shake off his earlier confusion. ¡°Congratulations on passing the exam! Well done, hunters!¡±

    He waved his hands in the air as if to emphasize his enthusiasm. ¡°You¡¯ve earned a rest for today. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll move on to the next stage. If you need food or water, just line up at the vending machine.¡± He paused for dramatic effect, then added, ¡°Okay, buh-bye!¡±

    And just like that, the screen went blank.

    For a moment, no one moved. Then, as if on cue, a spotlight illuminated the vending machine in the corner of the room. It stood about my height, sleek and futuristic, with holographic visuals dancing across its surface.

    I sighed, already knowing what was coming.

    The machine wasn¡¯t ordinary. It was part of the World Path, an advanced network that allowed hunters to restock supplies from anywhere in the world. Food, water, gear¡ªit could teleport anything directly to you, provided you had the credits to pay for it.

    A few hunters approached it hesitantly, their curiosity evident. To them, it probably looked like a fancy snack dispenser. They didn¡¯t realize they were staring at one of the Association¡¯s most classified technologies.

    The machine was designed to help hunters survive in the wild, particularly in the Forbidden Region, where traditional supply chains didn¡¯t exist. It was ingenious, really, but also a stark reminder of how much advanced the Association had become.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Hunters began to cautiously approach the vending machines. Their hesitation was palpable¡ªmost of them had no idea how the machines worked, and their wariness was evident in every careful step. I glanced around, noting the looks of suspicion and curiosity directed at the machines. Thick with aura and undeniably advanced, they weren¡¯t the kind of thing you just started poking at without a second thought.

    Except for me.

    Black strolled toward one of the machines, his gait measured and cautious. His expression was unreadable behind his ever-present shades, but I could sense his intrigue. Before he got too close, I couldn¡¯t resist calling out, ¡°Hey, grab me some carbonara while you¡¯re at it!¡±

    The corner of Selena¡¯s mouth twitched into a sly grin, and she added, ¡°And I¡¯ll take a burger!¡±

    Black froze mid-step, turning his head just enough to shoot us a look. He didn¡¯t say anything¡ªhe didn¡¯t need to. The sheer weight of his exasperation was practically tangible, like a silent debate over whether it was worth acknowledging us at all.

    Around us, the other hunters were beginning to catch on. Lines formed in front of the dozen machines, neat and orderly for now, though a few hunters glanced around nervously. The more adventurous ones were already exploring the options, their faces ranging from impressed to bewildered as they scrolled through holographic menus.

    That¡¯s when Geoffrey made his entrance, striding over with his usual air of overconfidence, his smirk firmly in place. Naturally, Atropos followed close behind, her presence as unsettlingly quiet as ever.

    ¡°Ah, my friend!¡± Geoffrey greeted, his voice dripping with mock charm. ¡°How are you faring? I trust you haven¡¯t forgotten about our little wager?¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow, glancing between us. ¡°What wager?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Geoffrey and I made a bet about what the test for this stage would be. Information for information. The catch? He only gets to collect if he guessed right.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unimpressed. ¡°So, did he win?¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, I watched as her focus shifted, her sharp gaze locking onto Atropos.

    Selena crossed her arms, her tone cool and pointed. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be in the staff wing? Not getting mixed up in all this?¡±

    Atropos tilted her head slightly, her expression as unreadable as ever. ¡°I merely wanted to hang out,¡± she said in her monotone voice. Then, as if to preempt any further questions, she added, ¡°I¡¯m here to judge the bet between Reynard and Geoffrey.¡±

    Her words carried through the murmurs of the nearby hunters, drawing more attention to our little group. Geoffrey perked up, clearly eager for the spectacle.

    ¡°Yes, yes, let¡¯s get on with the show,¡± he said, gesturing dramatically.

    Atropos raised a small metal box, its contents clinking faintly as she opened it. Inside were two folded pieces of paper. She plucked one out and held it up.

    ¡°This paper is Geoffrey¡¯s,¡± she announced. ¡°He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as the mode of competition.¡±

    Geoffrey¡¯s grin widened, his confidence practically oozing as he leaned a little too close. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯ll gladly take my prize.¡±

    ¡°Not so fast,¡± I said, my voice carrying just enough smugness to wipe the grin off his face. ¡°The winner is the one with more accurate information. Remember?¡±

    Geoffrey¡¯s jaw tightened, but he quickly masked it with a neutral expression, crossing his arms as he waited.

    Atropos pulled out the second slip, holding it up for all to see. ¡°This paper is Reynard¡¯s,¡± she continued, her voice steady. ¡°He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as the mode of competition¡ªwith the Fighting Tower as the finish line and the airship as the starting line.¡±

    A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd. Geoffrey¡¯s smirk faltered, a subtle clench of his jaw betraying his irritation. I let my grin spread, savoring the moment.

    Geoffrey sighed heavily, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to me. Its edges were slightly worn, as if he¡¯d been handling it nervously in anticipation of this moment.

    With a forced smile, he said, ¡°I hope this settles things between us. I admit I was wrong to speak ill of your wife. I won¡¯t do it again.¡±

    The sudden sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, but before I could respond, he added with a chuckle, ¡°Besides, I was planning to give you this information one way or another. Just figured I might get more out of it with this little wager¡­ Who wouldn¡¯t want a favor from the King of Favors, after all?¡±

    I frowned. ¡°King of Favors?¡±

    His chuckle deepened, clearly enjoying my confusion. ¡°It¡¯s what they¡¯re calling you. Word¡¯s been spreading fast among hunters that a whole lot of them owe you favors. They¡¯re even saying that the airship captain owes you¡­ what was it? Eleven favors?¡±

    Beside me, Selena¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Eleven? That¡¯s a bit much, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I kept my face impassive, though inwardly, I couldn¡¯t deny the satisfaction that came with the title. Of course, it was true¡ªbut they didn¡¯t need to know that.

    A few moments later¡­

    The table appeared before us like a conjured trick, seamlessly rising from the smooth floor of the spacious Fighting Tower. Black, Selena, and I took our seats, setting our meals down¡ªmy carbonara in front of me, Selena''s burger already in her hands, and Black with what looked like a perfectly roasted duck. The aroma of the food was a pleasant contrast to the tension brewing in the air, a subtle reminder of the challenge that awaited us.

    I speared a forkful of pasta, savoring the creamy bite. The sauce was rich, the perfect blend of cheese and spices, but my mind was already racing ahead. Across from me, Selena took a massive bite of her burger, barely waiting to swallow before raising a casual question. ¡°Any ideas what the next test is?¡±

    I nodded, twirling another forkful of carbonara. ¡°It¡¯ll be tournament-style. That¡¯s the standard for the Fighting-themed exams. Brackets, elimination rounds, and a winner at the end.¡±

    Black raised an eyebrow, taking a slow, thoughtful bite of his duck. ¡°So, I guess this is where our mutual cooperation ends.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. ¡°But hey, if we end up matched together, take it easy on me, alright?¡±

    Selena snorted, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous challenge. ¡°Dream on, Reynard. If we cross paths, I¡¯ll wipe the floor with you.¡±

    I smirked, recognizing the fire in her tone. She wasn¡¯t joking. For all her playful jabs, Selena was fiercely competitive. She¡¯d give her all, no matter who stood in her way.

    ~041

 042 The Proctorâ€™s Plea

    XLII

    The wary glances were impossible to miss. Hunters around me shifted subtly, keeping their distance as though proximity alone might invite danger. I hadn¡¯t used Soul Links or Soul Marks since the seventh exam ended, and any connections I¡¯d left before had long faded. Still, the stories about my abilities had clearly made the rounds. Their caution spoke volumes.

    Some hunters¡¯ gazes lingered a beat too long, watching me as if bracing to dodge an attack. They knew what I could do¡ªknew that a single link or mark could expose them, leave them vulnerable in ways they couldn¡¯t defend against. It was fine by me. Their distance wasn¡¯t just a courtesy; it was a tactical advantage.

    I glanced down at the paper Geoffrey had handed me earlier. It felt surreal, almost like a joke¡ªthe real name and public identity of the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s Prophet.

    For a moment, I thought Geoffrey might be playing me, feeding me false leads to throw me off. But the details were too precise, the delivery too deliberate. This wasn¡¯t a bluff. It was real.

    The weight of it hit me all at once. The Prophet wasn¡¯t just another high-ranking member of the cult. They were a keystone, a strategist who anticipated threats and scouted potential recruits. Knowing their identity was a game-changer, a thread that could unravel the cult¡¯s web of influence.

    But the realization brought its own frustration. I wasn¡¯t ready. My network wasn¡¯t strong enough, my resources too limited. If I acted on this now, the cult would see me coming from a mile away. Worse, they¡¯d retaliate¡ªand I wasn¡¯t foolish enough to think I could withstand that kind of backlash.

    No, this wasn¡¯t the time. I needed to bide my time, gather allies, and build my strength. For now, the information would stay with me, a weapon waiting for the right moment.

    Selena¡¯s voice pulled me from my thoughts. ¡°What was that bet about? What did you win?¡±

    I smirked, shaking my head. ¡°Classified. But I can tell you what Geoffrey was after.¡±

    Her curiosity flared as she leaned forward. ¡°Alright, spill it. What did he want?¡±

    I held back a laugh. ¡°Information on Excalibur.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. ¡°No way. You¡¯re kidding.¡±

    Before I could respond, Black spoke up, his tone calm and measured. ¡°It might not be a joke. Geoffrey wagered the same thing against Joe, the airship captain.¡±

    Selena¡¯s jaw dropped slightly, and she let out a low whistle. ¡°No shit.¡±

    I leaned back in my chair, twirling my fork as I processed the implications. The Prophet, the cult¡¯s strategist, was responsible for identifying threats and recruiting talent. And then there was the cult¡¯s leader¡ªSebastian Moore. I didn¡¯t know who he was, but I intended to find out. With the right tools, a little research could go a long way.

    Selena interrupted my train of thought. ¡°Why the gloomy face?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I need the internet, that¡¯s why.¡±

    Without a word, Selena smirked and reached for the waistband of her jeans. For a split second, I thought she was just messing with me¡ªuntil she pulled out a miniature object hidden beneath the fabric. With a quick flick, she activated it, and the tiny item expanded into a full-sized laptop.

    She grinned, holding it up like a trophy. ¡°Wi-Fi, ready to go. You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    I blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Wow¡­ just wow.¡±

    ¡°Go on,¡± she teased, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. ¡°Praise me more.¡±

    I rolled my eyes, though I couldn¡¯t hide my grin. ¡°You should¡¯ve told me about this earlier! I could¡¯ve video-called my wife!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± She smirked, flipping the screen open. ¡°Too bad.¡±

    ¡°Just kidding,¡± I said, watching her fight back a laugh. ¡°But seriously, thanks. I could use some¡­ calls. That aside, your ability is broken.¡±

    Selena¡¯s grin widened as she booted up the laptop. ¡°You¡¯re just jealous.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I admitted, already running through the possibilities her little gadget had just opened up.

    The blend of technology in this world was nothing short of baffling.

    On the surface, everything seemed to lag a few decades behind¡ªclunky phones, spotty internet, and vehicles that barely scraped by as modern. But dig deeper, and you¡¯d find tech that defied logic: satellites capable of teleporting people and objects anywhere on the globe, precise to the millimeter.

    The only explanation? The government¡ªor someone above them¡ªwas hoarding the good stuff. Advanced technology was reserved for hunters, the military, and the elite, while the rest of the population got scraps. It was a system that reeked of control, a way to keep the masses dependent and docile.

    I powered up Selena¡¯s laptop and started typing. The keys clicked under my fingers as I searched for Sebastian Moore.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The results painted the picture of a man who was far from ordinary. Late fifties, graying hair, and a build that still carried an intimidating presence, Moore was the quintessential billionaire mogul. His empire spanned entertainment, tech, and real estate, cementing him as a household name. On the surface, he seemed like just another untouchable tycoon, but the deeper I dug, the more unsettling his connections became.

    There were whispers¡ªrumors of shadowy dealings and influence that stretched far beyond the entertainment world. His public image was pristine, but the undercurrents told a different story. If anyone fit the profile of the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s Prophet, it was him.

    Lunch ended with Selena, Black, and I going our separate ways. The rooms for the next stage were assigned based on our rankings from the seventh exam, and my performance had just barely landed me in Room 99.

    The hallway to the rooms was lined with doors, each glowing softly with numbers that adjusted as hunters approached. The system used aura-sensing tech to confirm each person¡¯s rank, ensuring no one could cheat their way into a better room.

    When I reached mine, the number above the door lit up as I approached. The faint hum of the scanner buzzed against my skin, and then the door unlocked with a soft click. I stepped inside, letting the weight of the day¡¯s chaos settle on my shoulders.

    The room was small but functional, designed for efficiency rather than luxury. A bed, a desk, and a single chair were the only furnishings. I kicked off my boots, changed into something more comfortable, and stretched out on the bed. The mattress was firm but inviting, and the pull of sleep was immediate.

    I don¡¯t know how long I was out before I woke up with a jolt. There was a strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, like I¡¯d been here before, but something was off.

    Before I could fully process it, a faint rush of air tickled my ear. I turned sharply, catching a flash of blonde hair and an eerily familiar face staring down at me.

    ¡°Atropos?¡± I blinked, my mind struggling to catch up. ¡°What are you doing in my bed?¡±

    The maid stood there, as composed as ever, her face unreadable. She was dressed in her usual uniform¡ªa black-and-white ensemble that somehow managed to be both elegant and borderline indecent. Her curves, emphasized by the outfit, made the situation even more absurd.

    Her response was deadpan and completely unexpected. ¡°I am here to get laid.¡±

    I stared at her, completely baffled. ¡°What?¡±

    Atropos tilted her head, her expression unchanged. ¡°You heard me.¡±

    I groaned, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. ¡°Look, I know you can¡¯t actually¡­ you know. Ninety-seven percent of your body isn¡¯t even human anymore.¡±

    ¡°Boring,¡± she replied flatly, standing up as if I were the one being unreasonable.

    I sighed, trying to keep my cool. ¡°What do you want, Atropos? Really.¡±

    Her reply didn¡¯t help. ¡°I can change my parts if needed. Ever heard the saying, ¡®If there is a hole, there is a goal?¡¯¡±

    Flirting with an entirely emotionless tone shouldn¡¯t have been possible, and yet, here she was, proving me wrong. She followed her statement with a subtle gesture and a look that was somehow both lewd and completely detached.

    I pinched the bridge of my nose, exasperated. ¡°Atropos, I swear¡ª¡±

    ¡°Relax,¡± she interrupted, her tone as flat as ever. ¡°I¡¯m here for business.¡±

    I shot her a skeptical look. ¡°You¡¯ve got a funny way of announcing that.¡±

    Atropos paused, tilting her head slightly, her golden hair catching the dim light. ¡°I am joking,¡± she said, her voice becoming flat.

    Of course, she was joking! I knew that. But damn it¡ªwhy was I so flustered?

    I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to push the unsettling thoughts aside. This wasn¡¯t the time to get thrown off by Atropos¡¯s odd sense of humor¡ªor whatever that was. I needed to focus.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask again,¡± I said, my voice firmer this time. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Atropos didn¡¯t answer right away. She studied me with those unnervingly steady eyes, her face as unreadable as always. Then, finally, she spoke. ¡°I heard you want to join the Hunting Dogs.¡±

    I frowned, suspicion prickling at the back of my mind. ¡°Are you my¡­ proctor?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she confirmed, her tone betraying no emotion. ¡°I requested the assignment.¡±

    I narrowed my eyes. Why would she do that? What was her angle here?

    ¡°And your point in coming here?¡± I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

    Atropos stood up, her movements smooth and precise. For a moment, I thought she was going to finally give me a straight answer. Instead, her words were like ice water poured over my ambitions.

    ¡°Please withdraw your application,¡± she said, her voice calm but with an edge of finality. ¡°You aren¡¯t fit to join the Hunting Dogs. I will fail you. You are weak, and you don¡¯t have the mentality to do what we do. Please, don¡¯t even think about joining the Hunting Dogs.¡±

    Her words hit me like a slap. Before I could respond, she continued, her gaze locking onto mine with a rare intensity.

    ¡°And the Elsewhere Cult?¡± she added, her voice dropping lower. ¡°I will deal with them. They¡¯ve violated Hunter relations to a great degree, so the Association will intervene. Stay out of it.¡±

    Her tone was as cold and detached as always, but there was something else there¡ªa weight, a clarity that made me pause. This wasn¡¯t just criticism or dismissal. She was warning me.

    But why?

    I stared at her, frustration bubbling up alongside confusion. ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± I asked, trying to keep my tone steady. ¡°Why do you care so much? The Hunting Dogs are always in need of capable hunters, and I¡¯ve proven myself more than once. So why this sudden crusade to keep me out?¡±

    Atropos¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but her words carried an almost imperceptible undercurrent of something¡­ personal.

    ¡°You are not capable,¡± she said simply. ¡°Not for what the Hunting Dogs face. Not for the Elsewhere Cult. You think you are ready, but you aren¡¯t. And if you continue down this path, you will die. That is not a prediction¡ªit is a certainty.¡±

    Her words were a blow, not just because of their content, but because of the way she said them. There was no malice, no condescension¡ªjust a cold, brutal certainty.

    ¡°And what about you?¡± I shot back, my frustration spilling over. ¡°You think you can handle the Cult on your own? Without support, without allies? Don¡¯t kid yourself, Atropos. You¡¯re strong, but even you have limits.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something almost human crossing her face. ¡°My limits are irrelevant,¡± she said. ¡°The Association will handle the Elsewhere Cult. You will not. That is final.¡±

    I shook my head, disbelief and anger swirling together. ¡°You don¡¯t get to decide that. Not for me.¡±

    Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

    The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.

    Atropos was hiding something¡ªI was sure of it now. Her insistence, her strange behavior, the almost desperate edge to her warnings¡­ It wasn¡¯t just about my safety or her role as a proctor. There was something deeper at play, something personal.

    But she wasn¡¯t going to tell me. Not yet.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said at last, my voice quiet but firm. ¡°You can warn me all you want, but I¡¯m not backing down. If you think I¡¯m not ready, then prove it. Fail me if you have to, but I¡¯m not going to quit just because you said so.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and then she turned toward the door. ¡°You¡¯ve been warned,¡± she said, her voice as emotionless as ever.

    With that, she was gone, leaving me alone in the quiet room.

    I sat back on the bed, my thoughts racing.

    What was Atropos after?

    ~042

 043 Strings of Power

    XLIII

    ¡°This is personal to you.¡± My voice cut through the tension like a blade, firm and unyielding.

    Atropos froze mid-step, her back to me, the room still heavy with the oppressive weight of her presence.

    ¡°You are mistaken,¡± she replied curtly, her tone as flat as ever.

    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°You were mistaken.¡± My words carried an edge, sharper than I intended, but I didn¡¯t care. The implication was clear: she was the one misjudging things, not me.

    For a moment, the silence stretched, and then the air shifted. Her aura flared, filling the room with an almost suffocating pressure. It was as though the space itself bent to her will.

    Then, like an ominous melody building to a crescendo, they appeared. The walls shimmered as constructs phased into existence. Faceless, featureless golems, each clad in maid outfits, their streamlined limbs gleaming like polished steel. The spiked edges of their appendages hinted at their lethal nature. They moved with a chilling elegance, each step a reflection of Atropos herself¡ªprecise, calculated, and utterly unnatural.

    I clenched my fists, my mind racing. These weren¡¯t ordinary constructs. They were extensions of Atropos¡¯s power, infused with her aura, animated by her will. I¡¯d faced stronger opponents during the exams, but none with the sheer presence Atropos commanded.

    Her thematic power revolved around doll-making, a craft so refined that she had turned her own body into a near-perfect automaton. These constructs weren¡¯t just tools¡ªthey were manifestations of her soul, driven by her Passion.

    Passion¡ªthe term for the deep-seated desires, hopes, and dreams that fueled a hunter¡¯s powers. Aura techniques were born from it, and while I often called Gifts, they were much more personal than that. I¡¯d been working on a thesis about it, but right now, theory was the last thing on my mind.

    What about my Passion? What was the theme of my aura?

    If I had to guess, it was rooted in stories and happy endings. Even before this life, I¡¯d been captivated by narratives, by the connections between characters and their journeys. That same devotion had shaped my ability¡ªa knack for weaving threads, binding connections, and pulling the strings.

    I reached out, my hand brushing against the nearest doll. Atropos hadn¡¯t ordered them to attack yet, and that hesitation was all I needed. My aura flowed into the construct, wrapping around it like a web, taking hold. My Puppetry attribute flared to life, seizing control.

    The doll froze, then shifted, its movements now guided by my will.

    My aura unfurled like a corona, delicate strands spreading across the room. One by one, I linked to the other constructs, my Soul Link infecting them with my control. Atropos¡¯s aura recoiled, and the dolls began to phase out, retreating under her command.

    All but one.

    The doll I¡¯d marked stayed rooted at my side, a testament to my defiance.

    ¡°Return her to me,¡± Atropos demanded, her voice tight, her composure cracking.

    I met her gaze, my tone flat and unyielding. ¡°My ability counters yours. And no, this doll is mine.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, her voice wavered with fury. ¡°GIVE IT BACK!¡±

    The outburst was jarring, raw emotion bleeding into her usually flawless, detached demeanor. It wasn¡¯t just anger¡ªit was desperation. I held her gaze, unwavering. This wasn¡¯t just about power or pride. Atropos¡¯s obsession with her dolls was deeply personal, and I¡¯d just torn a piece of her world away.

    But I wasn¡¯t about to give it back. Not now. This was my deterrent, my leverage. If she wanted to challenge me, she¡¯d have to face the consequences.

    A slow, mocking grin spread across my face as I crossed my arms. ¡°What are you, a child?¡± I taunted. ¡°This isn¡¯t some toy that a neighborhood kid took from you. It¡¯s my prize¡ªsomething I won fair and square, hunter to hunter. If you want it back, you¡¯re going to have to take it the hunter¡¯s way.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s fury burned in her eyes, a rare crack in her stoic mask. Her hands clenched at her sides, the faint creak of tension audible even over the silence. For a moment, I thought she might snap, but then she took a long, steadying breath. The cold detachment returned to her expression like a mask snapping into place.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said at last, her voice icy. ¡°You won.¡±

    She turned sharply, and with a flick of her wrist, a metallic door shimmered into existence ahead of her. It wasn¡¯t her creation¡ªthat much I could tell¡ªbut rather one of the tower¡¯s administrative perks. A quick escape hatch, courtesy of her privileges.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    But she wasn¡¯t getting away that easily.

    I sent a command through my aura, and the doll I¡¯d claimed moved instantly. With a burst of speed, it leapt to the ceiling, its limbs bending unnaturally as it scuttled like a spider across the surface. Then, with a soundless drop, it landed in front of the door, towering over Atropos and blocking her path. Its gleaming, spiked limbs twitched in anticipation, a silent threat that matched the icy tension in the room.

    Atropos didn¡¯t flinch. She tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but cutting. ¡°Do you really think something I crafted with my own hands could stop me?¡±

    She raised her right arm, and with a smooth, almost organic shift, her hand morphed into a blaster barrel. Energy crackled at its core, a low hum filling the room as it began charging.

    I didn¡¯t wait.

    Before she could fire, shimmering chains erupted from the doll, snaking around her like living serpents. The chains, forged from my aura and infused with my Soul Chain ability, coiled tightly around her arms and torso, locking her in place. It had been a gamble, preloading the doll with a trap, but it had paid off.

    Atropos¡¯s expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she tested the restraints. I could feel her aura pressing against mine, probing for weaknesses, but the chains held firm.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere until you give me answers,¡± I said, my voice calm but firm.

    She scowled, the first real crack in her composure since the encounter began. I tightened my grip on the chains, keeping her bound as I stepped closer. This wasn¡¯t just about curiosity¡ªher sudden opposition to my Hunting Dogs application was suspicious. Dangerous.

    ¡°Who¡¯s pulling the strings, Atropos?¡± I demanded. ¡°Why are you really here? And why do you care whether or not I join?¡±

    For a moment, she didn¡¯t answer, her eyes locked on mine with a calculating intensity. Then, her voice softened, slipping from its usual flat monotone into something quieter, though still restrained.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she admitted, ¡°it is personal.¡±

    Her words hit me like a hammer, and suddenly, the pieces began to fall into place. If this was personal, then Atropos wasn¡¯t acting on orders from above. This wasn¡¯t some directive from the chairman or a hidden agenda from the Association. This was her will, her vendetta.

    I thought briefly of the president. If he¡¯d wanted to block my application, he could have done it with a single signature, no need for personal interference. His easygoing nature didn¡¯t match the calculated moves Atropos was making.

    So, this truly was her obsession. Her motives, her fears¡ªwhatever they were, she¡¯d taken it upon herself to intervene.

    ¡°From whom did you learn about my application to the Hunting Dogs?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes.

    Her gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I read it directly from the system,¡± she replied, her tone clipped. ¡°It was one of my responsibilities.¡±

    Her answer made sense, but it didn¡¯t sit right. Atropos had administrative access, sure, but why go out of her way to interfere with me? What was it about me, about my application, that had drawn her attention?

    I glanced at Atropos, searching her impassive face for a flicker of emotion, a hint of something deeper that might explain her behavior. But she remained stoic, as unreadable as ever.

    Maybe¡­ this was a misunderstanding?

    Confusion swirled in my mind, mingled with disbelief. I already had a wife¡ªI wasn¡¯t looking for anyone else. I didn¡¯t want this endless parade of unexpected infatuations. If Atropos started showing yandere tendencies, it would be disastrous. Rejecting her outright, though, felt like treading into even murkier waters. I hadn¡¯t asked to be handsome, hadn¡¯t signed up for this extra drama.

    Taking a deep breath, I tried to let her down gently. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ It¡¯s not you. It¡¯s me¡­¡±

    Her blank expression faltered, confusion flashing across her face. ¡°What?¡±

    Right. Emotional matters weren¡¯t exactly her strong suit. I sighed and clarified, ¡°It just wouldn¡¯t work between us. You¡¯re 97% doll, and I¡¯m 100% flesh.¡±

    Her brows furrowed. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°I already have a wife,¡± I said, hoping this would make things clearer.

    For a moment, she just stared at me. Then, her aura surged, shattering the Soul Chain binding her. Her face paled as anger and shock mingled in her voice.

    ¡°You asshole, I¡¯m your sister!¡± she hissed, and I froze.

    I¡­ have a sister?

    The words hit me like a thunderclap. My memories didn¡¯t include a sibling¡ªno fragments, no whispers, nothing. But Atropos¡¯s fury was real, her conviction unshakable.

    ¡°I might look different now because of the augmentations,¡± she continued, her voice trembling with frustration, ¡°but it¡¯s me, Reina! I¡¯m your big sister, you doofus! Don¡¯t you remember the time you said you¡¯d marry me when we grew up?¡±

    Her words triggered a deep unease, and I found myself muttering, ¡°This is too much¡­¡± as I massaged my temples. ¡°You¡¯re gaslighting me. I don¡¯t remember any ¡®big sister¡¯ like you. And besides, why are you suddenly breaking character like this? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be cold and emotionless?¡±

    ¡°Hey! Even dolls can have feelings!¡± she fired back, and for a moment, she sounded genuinely offended. ¡°And for the record, I turned off my emotional inhibitors because you¡¯re such a pain to deal with!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure. If you¡¯re really my sister, then why are you acting so¡­ flirty? What about that time after the sixth exam? And just now, with the ear thing?¡± I folded my arms, my voice rising. ¡°Big sister, my ass! You¡¯re trying to gaslight me. If you¡¯re going to make a case, show me proof!¡±

    Her expression shifted, becoming uncharacteristically vulnerable. It caught me off guard, the sincerity in her gaze cutting through my disbelief.

    ¡°You don¡¯t¡­ remember me?¡± she asked softly, her voice laced with pain.

    ¡°No! I don¡¯t remember ever having a sister named Atropos or Reina or¡­ anyone!¡± I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. ¡°I grew up as a single child. Alone. My grandparents raised me, and I don¡¯t have a sister.¡±

    Atropos stared at me, her mouth opening and closing as though trying to process something incomprehensible. Then she murmured, ¡°No way¡­ amnesia?¡±

    The absurdity of the situation weighed heavily on me, my fists clenching as I tried to piece things together. And then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck me.

    What if I hadn¡¯t just popped into this world? What if there had been another Reynard here before me?

    A version of me who had lived a life, forged connections, and made promises I couldn¡¯t remember. A life that had left behind a family, a sister¡ªeven Atropos, who was standing right here, claiming I was the brother she remembered.

    The realization settled over me like a storm cloud.

    This wasn¡¯t just a misunderstanding. It was an old connection. One I didn¡¯t share, but one that bound her to the me who came before.

    ¡°Oh, shit¡­¡± I whispered, the weight of it all crashing down on me.

    ~043

 044 Command Center

    XLIV

    Atropos let out a quiet sigh as she approached the slouched figure of Bob, the president of the Hunter¡¯s Association. His peaceful face betrayed no sign of the responsibilities he bore.

    With care, she tilted his chair back slightly, allowing him to recline more comfortably. She removed the crumpled bag of chips from his hand and set it neatly on the desk, then uprighted the precariously tilted soda can. Finally, she retrieved a blanket from a nearby storage bin, draping it gently over his shoulders.

    For a moment, she allowed herself a faint smile.

    To think they were close in age, yet he had accomplished so much. He had risen from obscurity to lead an organization that shaped the fate of countless lives. Bob¡¯s relaxed demeanor might fool those who didn¡¯t know him, but Atropos understood the strength and resilience beneath his easygoing exterior.

    ¡°Sleeping like a fool¡­ doesn¡¯t he know he might get assassinated anytime soon?¡± she murmured under her breath, the words tinged with a rare note of affection.

    She turned away, her gaze sweeping over the command center. The circular room buzzed with quiet activity, its sterile white light casting a clinical glow over rows of workstations and walls filled with screens. Data streams and mission updates flashed across holographic displays as operators worked with quiet efficiency.

    Atropos barely had time to settle at her station when a familiar voice broke through the hum of machinery.

    ¡°Well, he is pretty tough. Confidence of the strong, eh?¡± Maurice¡¯s voice carried a grin, even without looking up from the Gameboy in his hands.

    Maurice, the director of security and enforcement, had an effortless charisma that belied his formidable skill. His dark skin glowed under the soft lights, and his wild afro seemed almost to defy the room¡¯s sterility. A lollipop jutted from his mouth, a comically juvenile contrast to his critical role as the Association¡¯s shield.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know about that¡­¡± Tori muttered, her tone clipped as she sipped her coffee. Her sharp eyes, framed by equally sharp glasses, flicked to Maurice. ¡°We¡¯re in a tight spot. Spies, moles, and the government breathing down our necks. We don¡¯t have room for overconfidence.¡±

    Tori, the director of intelligence and analysis, was Maurice¡¯s opposite in demeanor. Her tailored suit and severe bun projected authority, and the precision with which she flipped through reports mirrored her strategic mind. The stack of documents before her made her workspace resemble a war room rather than a desk.

    ¡°Always the optimist, Tori,¡± Maurice quipped, his grin widening.

    Atropos¡¯s gaze shifted to Dr. Yamada, seated nearby with a risqu¨¦ magazine spread open on his lap. His messy brown hair and unkempt stubble might have given him an endearing look if not for his blatant disregard for decorum.

    ¡°I want a girlfriend, damn it¡­¡± Yamada grumbled, flipping a page without a hint of shame.

    The groan that followed wasn¡¯t from Tori¡ªit was from Atropos, whose patience had already worn thin. But Tori, unsurprisingly, was the one to act.

    With a loud whack, her foot slammed against the table, startling Yamada so badly he nearly dropped his magazine. Her voice was icy as she hissed, ¡°Dr. Yamada, I suggest you behave, or I will personally ensure your castration.¡±

    The silence that followed was profound.

    It didn¡¯t last. A loud thud from the far side of the room drew everyone¡¯s attention.

    Klein, the director of personnel and recruitment, lay sprawled on the floor, his pale limbs tangled as though he had been unceremoniously dumped there. His perpetually drowsy state and blatant disregard for formalities were as infamous as his disdain for government regulations.

    ¡°What¡­ where am I¡­?¡± Klein mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he blinked up at the bright lights.

    Maurice laughed, pointing his Gameboy at Klein like a mock weapon. ¡°You fell out of your chair again, man. That¡¯s gotta be a new record.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s gaze lingered on the chaotic scene, a strange sense of comfort blooming within her. These people were far from perfect, but they were her colleagues¡ªan odd, mismatched group who, despite their quirks, formed the backbone of the Hunter¡¯s Association.

    And, in a way, they were her family now.

    Still, as she glanced back at Bob, snoring softly in his chair, the faintest pang echoed in her chest. Somewhere beneath the layers of conditioning and the cold numbness of her inhibitors, something stirred.

    Her brother was back. And with him, the ghosts of a life she had tried so hard to leave behind.

    Klein¡¯s pale and albino features illuminated by the flickering lights of the many monitors surrounding him. His stark white hair and moonlit skin made him appear almost spectral, but his attire was anything but ethereal. The bright yellow shirt he wore featured a defiant graphic of a cartoon hand flipping off the government¡¯s flag, a bold statement of his perpetual disdain for authority.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ what time is it?¡± Klein groaned, blinking groggily as he struggled to sit upright.

    Maurice, watching from nearby, strolled over with the leisurely grace of a predator. His relaxed stance shifted as he leaned back, then delivered a precise kick to Klein¡¯s face, aura crackling around his leg to amplify the force. The impact sent Klein rolling across the floor, limbs flailing like a ragdoll.

    ¡°Go to your room if you¡¯re planning to clock out, dumbass!¡± Maurice barked, his voice sharp but carrying an undertone of amusement.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Klein bolted upright with a wild expression, his crimson eyes darting around as though he had been jolted awake into an alternate dimension. ¡°YOU CANNOT DISSUADE ME! ALIENS ARE REAL, AND I AM FROM ANOTHER WORLD, YOU SON OF A¡ªWait¡­¡± His voice trailed off as he took in his surroundings, confusion replacing his initial fervor. ¡°What am I doing here?¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, he stretched groggily, staggered toward the elevator, and stepped inside. The doors slid shut behind him, cutting off his mumbled complaints.

    From his workstation, Dr. Yamada snickered, tossing his risqu¨¦ magazine aside with a lazy grin. ¡°Well, I should probably go too. Need to vent some stress¡­ on my blow-up¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh god, disgusting! You don¡¯t need to say it!¡± Tori groaned, her voice heavy with exasperation. She pinched the bridge of her nose and visibly shuddered.

    Maurice shot Yamada a sharp look, his expression a mix of disgust and authority. ¡°Move on, will you? The chairman needs his sleep. Or do you want to be kicked in the face too?¡±

    Yamada waved a dismissive hand, yawning as he ambled toward the elevator. ¡°Fine, fine. No need to get violent.¡± With a tired glance back, he disappeared into the elevator, leaving the command center quieter but no less chaotic.

    Now, only Atropos, Tori, and Maurice remained in the softly humming room, the dim glow of screens casting long shadows across their faces. Atropos glanced at Bob, still snoring peacefully in his chair, his head tilted awkwardly to one side.

    With a wry tilt of her head, she muttered, ¡°Want me to kick the chairman in the face too? Just to even the playing field?¡±

    Maurice¡¯s eyes widened briefly, a flicker of alarm crossing his face. ¡°Uh¡­ probably not a good idea. He is the boss, after all.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s gaze lingered on Bob¡¯s sleeping form, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°You¡¯re right. We should just let him suffer a stiff neck. Maybe he¡¯ll finally learn to go to bed on his own.¡±

    Maurice chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Or maybe I should kick him in the face. Could be therapeutic.¡±

    Tori shook her head, gathering her files with a weary sigh. ¡°You¡¯re both insane. I¡¯m leaving before I catch whatever you two have.¡± She turned on her heel and strode to the elevator, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

    Maurice yawned but quickly refreshed himself with a surge of aura, shaking off his weariness. He returned to his workstation, his posture relaxed and unhurried as he tapped away at his keyboard.

    Atropos surveyed the room. The command center¡¯s walls were lined with screens displaying mission progress, security feeds, and reports from the field. Most of the cubicles were unoccupied by humans, but Atropos¡¯s dolls filled the void. The artificial operatives, humanoid in form but utterly mechanical in function, sat at their designated stations, fingers gliding over keyboards with uncanny precision.

    As Director of Operatives, Atropos oversaw a staggering workload. Yet her dolls¡ªextensions of her will¡ªallowed her to maintain control over every aspect of the Association¡¯s operations without faltering. They logged mission data, updated alerts, and ensured the seamless flow of information.

    Meanwhile, Maurice, now free from the pretense of work, leaned back in his chair and loaded up a MOBA on his screen. His smirk widened as he queued for a match, his aura subtly pulsing with anticipation.

    Atropos cast him a sidelong glance, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Around them, the command center hummed with the quiet efficiency of her dolls, but the weight of the night still pressed heavily on her shoulders.

    Her eyes drifted back to Bob, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Somewhere, amidst the chaos of the Hunter¡¯s Association and the fractured world it served, she knew that her brother¡¯s presence would only complicate things further.

    And yet, she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that, for better or worse, the pieces of her past were falling into place.

    Atropos leaned back in her chair, the soft glow of multiple screens reflecting off her sharp, calculating eyes. The command center hummed with activity as her dolls, seated at their designated workstations, maintained the meticulous flow of information. But her focus was locked on one particular thread, a red-flagged notification that refused to be ignored.

    The "Elsewhere Cult."

    The name was new to her¡ªa rarity in her position as Director of Operatives. Atropos prided herself on knowing every major player in the shadows. Yet this anomaly had surfaced like a whisper in the wind, faint but persistent. The deeper she dug into its origins, the more one undeniable connection surfaced: her brother, Reynard.

    Her lips pressed into a thin line as she opened a classified dossier tied to his recent activities. Reynard had always been resourceful, but the level of finesse and subtlety displayed here was surprising, even to her. His ability to navigate the shadows had evolved far beyond the boy she once knew.

    What the hell has he been up to?

    The question burned in her mind, a mix of admiration and irritation tugging at her. She had always known Reynard to be clever, but his aura abilities¡ªhidden for so long¡ªhad added a new dimension to his unpredictability. He had outmaneuvered her expectations time and again, and now, as she stared at the threads linking him to the Elsewhere Cult, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder what other talents he had been hiding.

    Her thoughts flicked to the stolen doll, a bitter reminder of Reynard¡¯s audacity. Losing one of her creations should have enraged her, but instead, she found herself impressed by the sheer nerve it took to pull off such a feat. She couldn¡¯t decide whether to strangle him for his recklessness or applaud him for his ingenuity.

    With a sigh, Atropos activated a new set of camera feeds, zeroing in on a young man: Gerry Mansel. His aristocratic features and confident gait were unmistakable, even through the grainy surveillance footage.

    Gerry¡­ You¡¯re still alive?

    Her lip curled in disdain. Gerry Mansel was a remnant of old nobility, one of the two assassins sent to kill her brother. That he had survived Reynard¡¯s counterattack was a surprise¡ªand not a pleasant one.

    She had considered dealing with him directly. Kidnapping, torture, even a swift execution had all crossed her mind. After all, Gerry had dared to harm her brother. But as she watched him now, a smug confidence radiating from his every movement, she decided against it.

    He¡¯s not worth it yet.

    Instead, she let a sly smile creep onto her face. Gerry wasn¡¯t an immediate threat, but he could still serve a purpose. She manipulated the brackets for tomorrow¡¯s exam, ensuring that Gerry and Reynard would face each other in the tower.

    Let Reynard handle him.

    If Reynard succeeded, it would only deepen her curiosity about his true potential. And if he failed? Well, then it would prove what she had suspected all along: the Hunter life was not the right path for him.

    Her attention shifted to the tower itself, a marvel of technology and aura that the public knew as the Fighting Tower. To most, it was simply an arena, a place where aspiring Hunters tested their mettle. But Atropos knew its true name: the World Tower.

    The tower¡¯s advanced systems were leagues beyond what the public could comprehend. Fail-safes minimized the risk of accidental deaths, but the psychological and physical strain it placed on participants was unmatched. It was the perfect stage for her plan.

    Let¡¯s raise the stakes.

    Atropos smirked as she finalized the adjustments to the brackets. Reynard¡¯s path would be anything but easy. She made sure to pit him against the toughest opponents the exam had to offer, Gerry included.

    The pressure would be immense, but that was the point. Reynard needed to understand the cost of his actions, the danger of the life he had chosen. If he succeeded, it would only make him stronger. But if he faltered?

    Then maybe he¡¯ll finally see reason and give up this foolish Hunter life.

    Atropos leaned back, her eyes flicking to the screen showing Reynard¡¯s profile. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of unease. For all her careful planning, there was one variable she couldn¡¯t control: Reynard himself.

    As the clock ticked closer to the exam, she resolved to watch every moment, every decision. One way or another, Reynard would reveal his true colors. And Atropos would be ready.

    ~043

 045 Tournament of Fighting

    XLV

    The Fighting Tower¡ªno, the World Tower¡ªwas more than just an arena. I¡¯d heard rumors about it, whispers of its true name and purpose, but stepping inside for the first time was something else entirely. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming, a structure that seemed to pierce the heavens and descend endlessly below. Its shimmering walls pulsed faintly with aura, as if alive, as if watching.

    The public called it the Fighting Tower because they didn¡¯t know any better. To most, it was just a high-tech battleground, a flashy venue for tournaments and tests. But I knew better. This wasn¡¯t just a stage for combat; it was a monument to ambition, a secret project that had united the world¡¯s three greatest powers¡ªthe Hunter¡¯s Association, the Government, and the World Order. That alone made it dangerous.

    And yet, it wasn¡¯t even finished.

    As I stepped into the staging area, I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the tower¡¯s capabilities. Its most infamous feature¡ªthe ability to make death temporary¡ªwas something I¡¯d always thought was too good to be true. But here I was, standing in the belly of a machine that could turn mortal wounds into illusions, erasing the consequences of failure while leaving behind the sting of defeat.

    I ran my fingers along the hilt of my sword, feeling its familiar weight. The tower¡¯s safeguards would protect me, but they couldn¡¯t dull the edge of real pain or the humiliation of being ¡°killed.¡± For some, that was enough to keep them cautious. For me, it was a challenge.

    The hallway buzzed with life as other contestants emerged from their rooms. Among them was Gerry Mansel. I spotted him immediately¡ªsilver hair slicked back, his tailored suit immaculate, not a thread out of place. He carried himself with an air of precision, every step measured, every movement deliberate.

    Gerry¡­

    The sight of him stirred something primal in me, a simmering anger that I couldn¡¯t quite shake. He had tried to kill me once. I didn¡¯t know why or for whom, but it didn¡¯t matter. That he was still standing, still breathing, was a testament to his skill¡ªand a reminder that I couldn¡¯t afford to let my guard down.

    As if on cue, the air shimmered, and a massive holographic head materialized in the center of the hall. president Bob¡¯s larger-than-life image loomed over us, his bald head gleaming with exaggerated intensity.

    ¡°The time has come!¡± he boomed, his voice echoing off the tower¡¯s walls. ¡°128 participants will compete in this tower. Okay, where do I start?¡±

    He scratched his holographic head, pausing as if genuinely lost in thought. The absurdity of it was almost enough to make me laugh, but I didn¡¯t. Not with Gerry standing just a few feet away.

    ¡°Right!¡± Bob snapped his fingers, his expression brightening. ¡°First things first¡ªthis state-of-the-art tower! Here, feel free to let loose because death is but a temporary reprieve in this world! This means you can push your limits, fight with all you¡¯ve got, because if you lose, it¡¯s not the end of the line for you¡ªwell, not entirely.¡±

    The crowd murmured in response, a mix of excitement and unease rippling through the room. For some, the promise of a ¡°safe¡± fight was reassuring. For others, it was a challenge to prove their mettle without holding back.

    It was great news, considering the spiel about the No-Kill rule being enforced to the latter half of the Exam.

    I stole another glance at Gerry. His expression was unreadable, but his presence alone was enough to put me on edge. Something about him felt off, more so than usual.

    What are you planning, Gerry?

    The hologram continued its speech, but my focus had already shifted. A ripple of tension passed through the crowd as President Bob¡¯s holographic grin hung in the air, its mischievous energy infectious.

    ¡°But,¡± he continued, his booming voice cutting through the murmur of contestants, ¡°losing just once might not mean death, but it does mean you¡¯ll be trying again next year. Only the top sixteen earn the ¡®golden pass.¡¯ The rest of you unlucky souls¡ªwell, if you fight hard enough, you might earn a silver pass. That¡¯ll let you skip the first half of the exams next time around.¡±

    The room shifted as the weight of his words sank in. Some faces grew pale, others tightened with resolve.

    I caught sight of Gerry Mansel, standing among the crowd, his silver hair gleaming under the arena¡¯s artificial lights. His smirk betrayed a flicker of confidence, but his eyes darted, assessing, calculating.

    But if he thought I¡¯d make it easy for him, he was dead wrong.

    ¡°Now, onto the rules!¡± Bob declared, his voice light with mock seriousness. ¡°We¡¯re running a tournament bracket! One-on-one matches in isolated arenas¡ªno interference, no excuses. Just you, your opponent, and everything you¡¯ve got. The rooms you slept in last night aren¡¯t just for resting¡ªthey¡¯re your entry point to the battlefield. When it¡¯s your turn, those doors will teleport you straight to the fight. No funny business, just fair and square.¡±

    The president¡¯s voice boomed one last time, snapping me out of my thoughts. ¡°Good luck, everyone! May the strongest aura shine the brightest!¡±

    I returned to my room, its sterile walls and faint hum of energy a reminder of the tower¡¯s intricate design. Room 99¡ªmy rank so far, and a position I intended to rise from.

    I stepped inside, expecting the same spartan quarters I¡¯d left. Instead, the space dissolved around me, replaced by a sprawling arena that defied logic. The air was thick with tension, charged with the remnants of battles fought and lost. It was surreal¡ªthis vast, open space contained within the walls of what should have been a simple room.

    Across from me, another door shimmered into view. Its number, ¡°72,¡± burned bright, and I knew my opponent waited on the other side.

    The door creaked open, and there he was¡ªGerry.

    He stepped into the arena, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression sharp with intent. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, neither of us moved.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Gerry¡¯s smirk widened, but I saw the tension beneath it. His gaze flicked to the blade at his side, barely concealed but glinting with an otherworldly aura. A weapon meant to kill.

    I let my own calm settle over me, my body still as I studied him. No fear, no hesitation. If anything, I felt a strange clarity, as if this moment had been inevitable.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while,¡± Gerry said, his voice low and venomous. His smirk twisted into something darker. ¡°I will make you pay for killing my fianc¨¦e.¡±

    I stared across at the man before me. Gerry. His name was barely worth remembering, yet here he stood, radiating anger and desperation, as if he had a personal vendetta to settle.

    I tilted my head, studying him. His stance was tight, his fists trembling slightly¡ªnot with fear, but with rage. A man who thought his emotions would fuel his strength. Foolish. I¡¯d seen it a thousand times before.

    I didn¡¯t bother justifying myself. ¡°Do you fight by wagging your tongue?¡± I asked, my tone flat, my gaze unyielding.

    His reaction was predictable. His fists clenched, his face twisted in fury, and he lowered into a stance. Aura flared around him, sparking with intensity. He was preparing for an attack, feeding off his anger. Amateur.

    ¡°YOU!?¡± he snarled, as if the sound alone would shake me.

    I remained still, watching him. His aura rippled with his ¡°homing¡± attribute¡ªan impressive ability, perhaps, but one that relied too much on predictability. The problem with people like him was that they believed their powers were unstoppable, that their ¡°truth¡± was absolute.

    It wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°I am going to hurt you,¡± he hissed, stepping forward, his grin wild. ¡°I¡¯ll enjoy watching you crumble. My power dictates fate¡ªmy aim never fails!¡±

    Before I could respond, he launched himself at me, his movements guided by his attribute. A flying kick tore through the air, aimed directly at my chest with pinpoint precision.

    But precision meant nothing without adaptability.

    I bent backward, my body moving with fluid ease, the kick slicing through the air just inches from my face. His speed was impressive, but I had seen faster. Before he could adjust, my hand shot up, seizing his wrist mid-air.

    He panicked. I felt it in the way his aura surged, his body twisting in an attempt to escape. I let him go, watching as he turned the motion into a roundhouse kick aimed at my face.

    The strike connected with a sharp crack, but I didn¡¯t move. Pain was an afterthought, irrelevant to someone like me.

    I caught his leg mid-swing, feeling the tremor of his aura-infused strike. With a shift of my weight, I pivoted, using his momentum against him. His body arced through the air, crashing into the wall with a satisfying thud.

    He scrambled to his feet, his aura flaring brighter. I could see the determination in his eyes, the refusal to back down. Admirable, but ultimately futile.

    He began to move, dashing in a wide arc, his homing attribute creating a web of energy around me. His speed increased, his movements erratic and difficult to follow.

    ¡°You¡¯re done for,¡± he barked, his voice echoing through the arena. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have let me finish this.¡±

    I let my lips curl into a faint smirk, letting him see the disdain in my eyes. ¡°You bark like a dog. Do you shit like one too?¡±

    His aura flared violently, his rage boiling over. He shouted something incomprehensible, a name for his technique, no doubt. They always had names for their attacks, as if that would make them stronger.

    In an instant, he vanished, reappearing directly in front of me. His fist drove into my solar plexus with the force of a cannon. The impact rippled through my body, but I stood firm, absorbing the blow.

    The look on his face was priceless¡ªa mixture of triumph and confusion as he realized I hadn¡¯t moved.

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± I asked, my voice soft, almost bored.

    Before he could react, I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. My knee shot up, slamming into his stomach with a force that made him gasp. I didn¡¯t let go, tightening my grip as I leaned in.

    ¡°Your power may dictate fate,¡± I whispered, my voice icy, ¡°but fate is meaningless when faced with someone who bends it to their will.¡±

    With a twist, I hurled him across the arena. His body hit the far wall, sliding to the ground in a crumpled heap.

    I stood there, watching as he struggled to rise, his aura flickering weakly. He was resilient, I¡¯d give him that. But resilience without strategy was nothing more than stubbornness.

    ¡°You should have stayed down,¡± I said, my tone as cold as the air between us.

    This wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a lesson. And Gerry was a poor student.

    Gerry¡¯s fists came at me like a storm, each strike infused with the relentless precision of his homing attribute. I blocked and parried, my arms vibrating from the impact as I layered Fighter Aura over them. It dulled the pain but did little to mask his overwhelming strength in close combat. Every punch felt like it carried a piece of his anger, a fragment of his bitterness.

    I sidestepped a wild hook, narrowly avoiding the edge of his knuckles. My eyes, enhanced by Seeker Aura, tracked his movements with meticulous precision, mapping his attack patterns. It wasn¡¯t just his strikes that interested me¡ªit was his intent. Every move he made was saturated with frustration, his emotions spilling over like an overfilled cup.

    This wasn¡¯t a fight to him. It was therapy.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been holding onto this for a while, haven¡¯t you?¡± I said, ducking under a spinning kick. My tone was calm, conversational, as if I weren¡¯t fending off an opponent trying to kill me. ¡°The anger, the grief¡ªit¡¯s written all over you.¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± he barked, his voice raw, his aura flaring in response. His next punch was faster, sharper, aimed at my temple. I caught it, my hand snapping around his wrist like a vice.

    For a moment, our gazes locked. His eyes burned with rage, but beneath it, I saw something else: guilt.

    I let go of his wrist, taking a step back to dodge his follow-up strike. He didn¡¯t miss a beat, closing the gap between us with a flurry of blows. My arms ached from blocking, my ribs throbbed from the hits that slipped through, but I didn¡¯t let up.

    ¡°You¡¯re not even fighting me,¡± I said, sidestepping another attack. ¡°You¡¯re fighting yourself.¡±

    His expression twisted, a flicker of doubt crossing his face before he buried it beneath his anger.

    I pressed on, weaving through his attacks, my words calculated. ¡°The Elsewhere Cult¡­ what did they promise you? Power? Redemption? Or was it just a way to numb the pain?¡±

    His next punch was slower, his focus faltering. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about me!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t I?¡± I countered, catching his fist and twisting it, forcing him to stumble. ¡°I know you¡¯re desperate. I know you¡¯re clinging to their lies because it¡¯s easier than facing the truth.¡±

    He growled, yanking his hand free and lunging at me. His strikes were erratic now, his precision giving way to recklessness. He was losing control, and I was learning more with every move he made.

    ¡°You think they care about you?¡± I said, ducking under a wide swing. ¡°You¡¯re a pawn, Gerry. Just another expendable piece on their board.¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± he roared, his aura flaring wildly. His punches came harder, faster, but they lacked the calculated precision of before.

    I grimaced as one of his strikes caught my shoulder, the impact jolting through me. He was strong¡ªstronger than I¡¯d anticipated¡ªbut strength alone wouldn¡¯t win this fight.

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know why you¡¯re here, do you?¡± I pressed, sidestepping another attack. ¡°What¡¯s their plan, Gerry? What¡¯s the cult really after?¡±

    His eyes flickered, the question striking a nerve. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, and I seized the opportunity, stepping in and driving my elbow into his ribs.

    He staggered back, clutching his side, his breathing ragged. ¡°You¡­ you think you¡¯re so smart,¡± he spat, his voice trembling with rage. ¡°But you don¡¯t know anything. The Elsewhere Cult¡­ they¡¯re¡ª¡±

    He stopped himself, his jaw clenching.

    ¡°Go on,¡± I said, my tone soft but insistent. ¡°Finish the sentence.¡±

    He shook his head, his aura flaring once more. ¡°You¡¯re not getting anything from me!¡±

    I sighed, settling back into a defensive stance. I¡¯d gotten close, but he wasn¡¯t ready to break¡ªnot yet.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said, my voice calm. ¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to beat the truth out of you.¡±

    Gerry snarled, his aura surging around him like a wildfire. He lunged at me again, his attacks wild and relentless. But this time, I wasn¡¯t just defending¡ªI was waiting. Watching.

    I had all the time in the world, and Gerry¡¯s frustration was only making him weaker.

    ~045

 046 The Calculated End

    XLVI

    Gerry¡¯s fist slammed into Reynard¡¯s body with the force of a sledgehammer, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. With Vector Infinity activated, Gerry became a blur of motion, his strikes coming from every conceivable angle in a relentless, precise assault. Each blow targeted weak points¡ªjoints, ribs, the solar plexus¡ªaiming to cripple his opponent. He darted across the arena, using his homing attribute to traverse an invisible web of vectors. Each point propelled him with inhuman speed, transforming his movements into a symphony of violence.

    This was Gerry¡¯s magnum opus, the pinnacle of his mastery over his homing attribute. His feet barely touched the ground before he launched into another attack, a tempest of fists and knees striking with deadly accuracy. His body vanished and reappeared in the blink of an eye, closing in on Reynard from impossible angles. He grinned viciously as the sounds of his attacks reverberated through the space. This is it, he thought, his confidence swelling with every successful hit. I¡¯ll break him. I¡¯ll humiliate him.

    The sharp echoes of impact filled the arena like splintering bones. Reynard struggled to counter, his movements reactive and defensive. He blocked where he could, twisting his body to mitigate the damage, but Gerry¡¯s relentless speed pushed him to his limits. Yet, despite the punishment he endured, Reynard¡¯s eyes remained locked onto Gerry, unwavering and calculating. His expression betrayed no pain, only a quiet defiance that gnawed at Gerry¡¯s confidence.

    As the fight wore on, a sliver of disbelief crept into Gerry¡¯s mind. No one had ever withstood this kind of assault before. His strikes, powerful enough to break bones and shatter resolve, were failing to make Reynard falter.

    Gerry¡¯s grin twisted into a snarl, his frustration mounting. He poured more energy into his attacks, delivering a brutal palm strike to Reynard¡¯s throat. Reynard swayed subtly, absorbing the blow without so much as a flinch. Gerry followed with an elbow aimed at Reynard¡¯s temple, but Reynard tilted his head with maddening ease.

    ¡°Impossible,¡± Gerry muttered under his breath. His movements grew more frantic, his attacks more brutal. A knee aimed for Reynard¡¯s groin was countered with a subtle shift in stance, the force of the blow dissipating harmlessly. No matter how viciously Gerry struck, Reynard remained standing, unperturbed and unbroken.

    What is this? Invulnerability? A barrier? Gerry¡¯s thoughts raced as doubt clawed at him. No¡­ I would¡¯ve noticed if it was a power like that.

    Then it happened. Reynard intercepted Gerry¡¯s next strike, his hand closing around Gerry¡¯s fist like an iron clamp.

    ¡°You¡¯re getting predictable,¡± Reynard said coolly, his voice cutting through Gerry¡¯s rising panic. ¡°Your ¡®vectors¡¯ lack imagination.¡±

    For a moment, Gerry froze, his confidence wavering under Reynard¡¯s calm gaze. But then he tore his fist free, leaping back to regroup. Fine. If he¡¯s seeing through my patterns, I¡¯ll make them unpredictable.

    With a burst of aura, Gerry expanded his network of vectors, creating a chaotic web that crisscrossed the arena. He launched into a dizzying barrage of attacks, bouncing from point to point with erratic speed. Punches, kicks, elbows, and knees came in a whirlwind, striking from every angle imaginable. His speed reached a fever pitch, turning him into a ghostly blur that seemed to attack from all directions at once.

    But no matter how frenzied his assault, Reynard remained impenetrable. His stance adjusted fluidly, his body absorbing each blow with an eerie calm. Every time Gerry struck, Reynard¡¯s responses grew sharper, his movements more precise. It was as if he was dissecting Gerry¡¯s fighting style in real time, learning and adapting with every exchange.

    He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s reading me. The realization sent a chill down Gerry¡¯s spine.

    Desperation clawed at him as he funneled all his energy into a final, decisive strike. He imbued his homing attribute into his right fist, feeling the familiar pull of fate guiding his attack. With a sharp crack, he launched forward, his fist streaking toward Reynard like a meteor.

    But Reynard caught it.

    His forearm rose with perfect timing, absorbing the blow with minimal effort. Gerry¡¯s eyes widened as his momentum evaporated against Reynard¡¯s calm defense.

    ¡°Still too predictable,¡± Reynard said, his tone almost bored.

    Gerry snarled, veering to the left in a zigzagging motion to throw off Reynard¡¯s tracking. He channeled his homing attribute into his left foot, delivering a roundhouse kick with enough speed to slice the air audibly.

    Again, Reynard blocked it. His palm met Gerry¡¯s foot with precise timing, dissipating the force without a shred of imbalance.

    This isn¡¯t possible. Gerry stumbled back, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. His mind raced as panic set in. Reynard hadn¡¯t launched a single offensive move, yet Gerry was losing. Every attack had been neutralized, every strategy countered. It wasn¡¯t just Reynard¡¯s defense¡ªit was the terrifying efficiency with which he dismantled Gerry¡¯s every effort.

    For the first time in years, Gerry felt the icy grip of fear. Something was very, very wrong.

    Reynard tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. ¡°Is this the best you can do?¡± he asked, his voice calm yet laced with disdain. ¡°I¡¯ve finished studying your patterns. What else can you show me?¡±

    The words struck Gerry harder than any blow, igniting his frustration into a searing inferno. No, there has to be a way! He clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together as he prepared to launch himself at Reynard once more. This time, he was determined to break through Reynard¡¯s guard, no matter the cost.

    For all his speed, precision, and the overwhelming power of his homing attribute, Reynard had countered him at every turn. Worse, Reynard seemed to grow stronger as the fight dragged on, his responses sharper, his movements more precise with each exchange. A cold sweat ran down Gerry¡¯s spine as he realized the truth¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford to prolong this fight. The longer it went on, the more certain it became that something catastrophic would happen, something he couldn¡¯t recover from.

    Gritting his teeth, Gerry made his decision. His hand darted into his coat, withdrawing two weapons: a sleek dagger with an otherworldly sheen and a compact handgun. The dagger, his ace in the hole, was no ordinary blade¡ªit was a tool of probability disruption, specifically designed to bypass the tower¡¯s miraculous murder-prevention feature.

    The handgun, by contrast, was straightforward but effective¡ªa weapon meant to overwhelm Reynard with unrelenting pressure. Normally, Gerry relied on knives crafted from human bone, the perfect medium for his homing attribute, which worked best on live organic materials. But this time, he needed sheer firepower.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see you stop this,¡± Gerry muttered under his breath.

    With a sharp exhale, he moved. Vector Infinity surged to life, and Gerry became a blur, zigzagging across the arena with incomprehensible speed. The gun barked as he fired, each shot coming from an unpredictable angle. His homing attribute guided his movements, placing him in impossibly tricky positions to fire. The bullets didn¡¯t curve, but the sheer volume and Gerry¡¯s relentless, shifting angles created a chaotic storm of projectiles.

    Reynard moved like water, his body a fluid blur as he deflected or dodged the incoming bullets. His hands blurred, redirecting shots with a precision that bordered on inhuman. The sound of ricocheting bullets filled the arena, a chaotic cacophony that seemed to amplify the tension.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    But Gerry wasn¡¯t done. Closing the distance in a heartbeat, he swung the dagger in a deadly arc, aiming for Reynard¡¯s throat. Reynard tilted his head at the last second, narrowly avoiding the blade, but Gerry pressed on, his attacks flowing seamlessly between slashes and close-range shots from his gun.

    The battle¡¯s intensity reached a fever pitch. Gerry¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps, his movements sharp and desperate. He poured every ounce of his energy into his assault, determined to overwhelm Reynard by sheer force of will. Yet Reynard remained calm, his cold gaze unshaken.

    That gaze unnerved Gerry. It wasn¡¯t the look of a man under pressure but of someone entirely in control. There was no fear, no hesitation¡ªonly an unsettling calm, as though Reynard already knew how the fight would end.

    Gerry¡¯s bullets swarmed through the air, forming a vortex of death that closed in from all sides. Yet Reynard¡¯s movements defied comprehension. He twisted and swayed, each motion perfectly timed to avoid the onslaught.

    The bullets passed within a hair¡¯s breadth but never struck. It wasn¡¯t invulnerability, Gerry realized with growing dread¡ªit was something far worse. Reynard¡¯s every movement was an exercise in absolute calculation, as if he were bending the laws of probability itself.

    It was¡­ ¡°Inconceivable.¡±

    Gerry''s eyes narrowed, his breath quickening as he enacted his final gambit.

    Every bullet suspended in the air, imbued with his homing attribute, transformed into a node in his ever-evolving vector network. Unlike the static points he¡¯d relied on earlier, these bullets formed a dynamic, shifting web of paths, recalculating in real time as they spiraled through the arena. The air hummed with tension, the faint glint of the bullets tracing arcs like shooting stars.

    Gerry moved like a phantom, his body blurring into a dizzying storm of afterimages. His speed was impossible, his trajectory erratic as he rushed toward Reynard from every conceivable direction. The sound of ricochets mingling with the rush of wind as bullets whizzed past Reynard.

    But Reynard didn¡¯t flinch. He stood his ground, his cold gaze locked onto Gerry. The bullets tore through the fabric of his suit, sending threads scattering like confetti, yet he made no effort to dodge. He simply watched.

    And then Gerry was there.

    In a fraction of a second, he materialized directly in front of Reynard, the dagger in his hand poised with lethal precision. The blade gleamed with the promise of death as it plunged forward, striking true.

    It pierced Reynard¡¯s chest.

    Gerry felt the resistance of flesh and bone as the dagger sank deep, bypassing the World Tower¡¯s miraculous protections as though they didn¡¯t exist. A surge of triumph flooded his veins. This was it¡ªhis victory, his moment. He stared into Reynard¡¯s eyes, expecting pain, fear, something.

    ¡°Farewell,¡± uttered Gerry as he revealed the horrifying truth. ¡°The Tower might have the ability to negate death, but this dagger ensures you die regardless¡­ of circumstance.¡±

    But what Gerry saw made his blood run cold.

    Reynard¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. His face remained calm, as unreadable as it had been from the beginning.

    Gerry froze, his hand trembling as he kept the blade lodged in Reynard¡¯s chest. Something was wrong. There was no blood. Not a single drop.

    The dagger should have worked. It was crafted to defy the rules of the World Tower, to bypass its miraculous protections. Yet Reynard stood there, unflinching, his cold, piercing eyes locked onto Gerry¡¯s.

    Sweat beaded on Gerry¡¯s forehead as he stammered, ¡°W-What are you?¡±

    Reynard¡¯s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. ¡°Your worst nightmare.¡±

    Before Gerry could react, Reynard¡¯s hand shot forward, seizing his wrist with an iron grip. The strength was overwhelming, inhuman. In one fluid motion, Reynard twisted Gerry¡¯s arm, forcing the dagger to clatter to the floor. The sound echoed in the arena like a death knell.

    Reynard bent down, picking up the blade with deliberate care. He examined it, turning it over in his hand as though it were a curiosity. ¡°This dagger,¡± he muttered, his voice quiet but resonant. ¡°Strange. Not aura, but something else entirely.¡±

    Gerry winced, his free hand swinging wildly in a desperate attempt to break Reynard¡¯s hold. But before he could land the blow, an eerie, bluish glow emanated from Reynard¡¯s body.

    From the glow, ethereal chains and strings erupted, materializing from thin air. They moved with impossible precision, snaking toward Gerry and coiling around his arms, legs, and torso. The chains pulsed faintly, their light casting unsettling shadows across the arena.

    Gerry struggled, his body straining against the spectral bonds, but they didn¡¯t budge. The chains anchored him to the floor and ceiling, suspending him midair like a grotesque puppet. Only his face remained visible, wide-eyed and drenched in panic.

    ¡°What¡ªwhat is this?!¡± Gerry shouted, his voice cracking. His body thrashed against the restraints, but it was no use.

    Reynard stepped closer, his shadow falling over Gerry like an executioner¡¯s blade. His gaze grew colder, his movements unnervingly precise. ¡°The conditions have been met,¡± Reynard said, his voice detached, almost mechanical. ¡°Multiple physical contacts confirmed. A total of 87 Soul Chains embedded. Soul Links have been primed. Total domination is viable. How do you wish to proceed?¡±

    The clinical tone sent a shiver down Gerry¡¯s spine. It wasn¡¯t just the words¡ªit was the way Reynard spoke, as if addressing some unseen force rather than Gerry himself.

    ¡°What? What are you talking about? You¡¯re talking strangely!¡± Gerry¡¯s voice trembled, his confusion mixing with sheer terror.

    Reynard tilted his head slightly, his expression eerily calm. There was something deeply wrong, something profoundly unnatural about him. The air around him felt heavy, oppressive, as though reality itself bent under his presence.

    ¡°You¡¯ll understand soon enough,¡± Reynard said softly, his cold smile returning. ¡°Though I doubt you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡±

    For a moment, something strange flickered in Reynard¡¯s gaze¡ªa hint of warmth, or perhaps the ghost of humanity. It was fleeting, gone almost as soon as it appeared. He tilted his head, and the mechanical precision of his movements softened. When he spoke again, his voice was disturbingly calm, almost conversational.

    ¡°There is nothing strange at all,¡± Reynard said, as if reading Gerry¡¯s thoughts. ¡°I am merely reciprocating the ill will that has been inflicted upon me.¡±

    He held the dagger lightly between his fingers, its edge gleaming menacingly under the arena lights. Pressing it against Gerry¡¯s cheek, he drew a thin line of blood, the crimson bead tracing a path down Gerry¡¯s pale skin.

    ¡°Interesting dagger,¡± Reynard murmured, examining it closely. ¡°It carries the nullify attribute. Disrupting probability¡­ poetic. But let¡¯s see what it really does¡­ and if it even works.¡±

    Panic surged through Gerry as he thrashed against the glowing chains that bound him, their ethereal light now a mocking reminder of his helplessness.

    ¡°Ah! No! Let go of me! The House of Mansel won¡¯t leave you be! Do you hear me?! The Hunter¡¯s Association wouldn¡¯t condone murder! My family will know of your involvement! The Association has obligations to the old nobility! One way or another, my family will hunt you¡ªand your family¡ªdown!¡±

    Reynard¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. A cruel smile curved his lips, devoid of humor or mercy. ¡°What if the Association is complicit in this murder?¡±

    The smile vanished, replaced by a chilling, unfeeling stare. ¡°Did you think I didn¡¯t include them in my calculations?¡±

    Gerry¡¯s protests faltered, his words catching in his throat as dread seeped into his veins. Reynard¡¯s eyes shifted briefly to the arena wall, where faint distortions hinted at the presence of unseen observers. The oppressive air grew heavier as Reynard addressed them directly.

    ¡°You must be watching, right?¡± he said, his voice laced with veiled menace. ¡°Hunter Association¡­ do not inconvenience me.¡±

    The weight of his words hung in the air, a threat as sharp as the dagger he held. Gerry barely had time to process them before something unimaginable began to unfold.

    Reynard¡¯s form shifted, his skin peeling away like burnt paper. Beneath, a mannequin-like figure emerged, its surface smooth and expressionless, yet dressed in the same tailored suit. The mannequin tilted its head, mimicking Reynard¡¯s earlier mannerisms with unsettling precision.

    ¡°What¡­ What are you?¡± Gerry whispered, his voice barely audible.

    The chains binding Gerry began to change, their glow intensifying as they transformed into unyielding metal. They coiled tighter, constricting his limbs and torso. Gerry screamed, his cries raw and desperate, but the chains did not relent. Bones cracked with sickening finality, the sound reverberating through the arena.

    And then, as if driven by an unseen force, Gerry¡¯s mouth began to move. Words spilled forth¡ªnot pleas for mercy, but confessions. Every dark secret, every crime tied to the Elsewhere Cult, tumbled out in a torrent of incriminating revelations. He spoke of the lives he had taken, the deals he had struck, the atrocities he had sanctioned. His voice trembled with terror, yet he couldn¡¯t stop speaking.

    Reynard¡¯s voice cut through the confessions like a blade. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have aligned yourself with the cult.¡±

    The mannequin remained motionless, its blank face an eerie contrast to the gruesome scene. The chains coiled tighter, their crushing force silencing Gerry¡¯s screams. With a final, deafening snap, the chains completed their grim work.

    Blood pooled beneath Gerry¡¯s broken form, his lifeless body suspended in the air for a moment before the chains retracted and dissolved into nothingness.

    Reynard¡ªor the mannequin that used to bear his likeness¡ªstood still, its hollow eyes fixed on Gerry¡¯s remains. It bent down, retrieving the dagger that he used to stab right at Gerry¡¯s heart at the final second. Holding it delicately, the mannequin examined the blade one last time before it vanished into the folds of its suit.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have aligned yourself with the Elsewhere Cult,¡± Reynard repeated softly, his tone laced with finality. ¡°Their influence ends here.¡±

    Turning toward the exit, the mannequin walked away, its movements fluid and precise. The oppressive atmosphere lifted as it departed, leaving behind an arena steeped in silence and blood.

    As the automated cleaning systems activated, erasing all traces of the carnage, Reynard¡¯s parting words echoed in the minds of those watching. The Hunter Association had been warned, and for those who dared oppose him, there would be no second chances.

    ~046

 047 The Tribunal

    XLVII

    What happened last night?

    The thought lingered as I glanced at the mannequin-like doll standing before me, a testament to hours of meticulous work. After Atropos left me alone, the first thought that crossed my mind was simple yet loaded: Damn¡­ I just acquired a rather powerful weapon.

    The doll now in my possession wasn¡¯t just some tool¡ªit was a force capable of going toe-to-toe with an experienced Hunter and emerging victorious. It was crude, sure, but its potential was undeniable.

    Before Atropos¡¯s aura fully faded from the doll, I used my Soul Link to borrow her attribute. Atropos¡¯s Doll attribute, the foundation of her Maker State, offered far more utility than I had initially expected. I decided to discard my own Connection attribute temporarily and made a quick visit to Selena. From her, I borrowed Disguise.

    The plan? Combine Doll, Puppetry, and Disguise to completely overhaul the doll. Why Disguise? It wasn¡¯t just about visual alteration¡ªit could tweak physical components to a degree, offering a level of refinement I couldn¡¯t achieve otherwise.

    The entire night was spent reshaping the doll. Its original design was functional but brutish¡ªa combat machine with blade-like limbs that tore through opponents with sheer ferocity. Impressive, yes, but I needed something more.

    Something subtle.

    The first change was the hands. The razor-sharp claws, while devastating, lacked finesse. I reshaped them into articulated fingers, giving the doll the dexterity to manipulate objects with precision. Next came the legs. The bladed limbs were transmuted into something more human-like, complete with proper feet to improve balance and mobility.

    This wasn¡¯t about adding new materials or components; the doll¡¯s existing structure was more than enough. Using Puppetry, I molded its form as if working with pliable clay. Every movement of my hands, every command I issued, brought it closer to my vision.

    By the end of the night, I had crafted a near-perfect humanoid replica¡ªor as close as I could manage. Despite my efforts, I couldn¡¯t completely erase its feminine features. The chest bulge and pronounced hips remained, relics of its original design. Modifying those would¡¯ve required extensive restructuring, and I didn¡¯t have the patience¡ªor the time¡ªfor that.

    The doll now stood before me, a seamless blend of subtlety and lethality. Gone were the gaudy accessories and the maid-like outfit Atropos had adorned it with. I set the discarded clothing aside, noting the high-quality materials.

    ¡°I might as well work on it now,¡± I muttered, glancing at the clock.

    Maker Aura wasn¡¯t my specialty, but through sheer technique and precision, I managed to transform the outfit into something new: a frilly black-and-white cloak imbued with invisibility. Disguise made it possible, though the cloak¡¯s invisibility was limited¡ªit only worked while I had Disguise loaded in my slots.

    With the cloak complete, I turned my attention back to the doll. If I could make it resemble me, I could use it as a decoy in battle. My strategy was straightforward: hide under the cloak¡¯s invisibility while the doll fought in my place. The challenge lay in ensuring its movements were convincing enough to fool an opponent.

    To execute this, I reloaded my Connection attribute, reopening a slot, and began training relentlessly. Using Connection and Puppetry, I developed a new technique: Marionette. Invisible strings formed from Soul Links that allowed me to control the doll with unparalleled precision.

    Hours blurred together as I refined both the doll and my technique. The Doll attribute served as the foundation for optimizing its structure. I enhanced its balance, flexibility, and reaction time, pushing its capabilities far beyond its original design. By the time I finished, the doll was no longer just a tool¡ªit was a weapon.

    I could confidently say it was at least 1.5 times more effective than Atropos¡¯s original creation.

    Morning arrived, bringing with it the familiar haze of fatigue. Two hours of sleep had been enough to recharge me, though the lingering weight of the night¡¯s work pressed on my mind.

    After waking, I immediately called Selena to borrow Disguise again. My loadout for the day was simple: Connection, Puppetry, and Disguise.

    A tried-and-true combination, and one I had honed to perfection.

    Now, back to the present¡­

    The Soul Chains dissipated like mist, and Gerry¡¯s body collapsed to the ground, limp and lifeless, a heap of rags battered by the storm. His confession had served its purpose. I reached into my pocket, retrieving a hidden pen recorder I¡¯d borrowed from Selena. A double-click sent a copy of Gerry¡¯s damning words directly to her. The recording would serve as leverage against the Elsewhere Cult¡ªa weapon for a battle fought in shadows rather than blood.

    As for the dagger¡­ that was another story.

    An artifact like this could bypass the tower¡¯s anti-lethality protections, a loophole that shouldn¡¯t exist. A fascinating piece, but also a liability. The Hunter¡¯s Association would demand its return, and refusing wasn¡¯t an option. Promising not to use it? Laughable. Better to hand it over and avoid suspicion.

    Still, I couldn¡¯t help but study it for a moment longer. What a dangerous little thing.

    But how had I extracted Gerry¡¯s confession so thoroughly?

    The answer lay in my Soul Link ability. By linking to someone¡¯s aura, I could equalize it with my own, borrowing their essence temporarily. Returning their aura wasn¡¯t a simple matter of restoration¡ªit came back under my control, a tool for sabotage. And when multiple Soul Links were embedded in a single person, they fell completely under my sway.

    This principle had turned Gerry into my puppet. The Soul Chains, a fusion of interconnected links, cocooned him, leaving his aura at my mercy. While ensnared, he had no choice but to confess. Every heinous act, every hidden crime, poured from his lips like a dam bursting.

    If he¡¯d had even a shred of decent technique, he could¡¯ve unraveled the chains, breaking them link by link. But he didn¡¯t. And so, he broke.

    What a pity. All that bluster, yet no skill to back it up.

    Still, it worked in my favor. Now I had his confession, his dagger, and his defeat. One fewer problem to contend with.

    I had my doll kick Gerry¡¯s body, checking for signs of life. Nothing. No twitch, no groan¡ªjust a broken husk.

    The doll moved again, retrieving the discarded gun from the ground. It fired several rounds into Gerry¡¯s torso, each shot precise and methodical. The echoes of gunfire faded, leaving silence in their wake. Still no reaction.

    Satisfied, I stepped forward and deactivated the invisibility on my frilly cloak. The sight of myself wrapped in that ridiculous garment made me wince. Frills and functionality¡ªa combination I despised, but it had served its purpose. I¡¯d discard it soon enough.

    Speaking of discards, I let go of the Disguise attribute. Its job was done. In its place, I claimed something new: Gerry¡¯s Homing attribute.

    At first glance, Homing seemed simple, even unimpressive. But Gerry had honed it through sheer brute force, turning it into something terrifyingly effective. His Vector Infinity technique alone had pushed me to my limits.

    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how Selena might¡¯ve handled him. She wouldn¡¯t have fought head-on. No, she¡¯d have dismantled him with precision, destabilizing the aura in his vectors and sending him careening into a wall. Splat. Game over.

    The thought almost made me laugh. If I had her training and aptitude, I might¡¯ve done the same. But I didn¡¯t. So, I made do with what I had¡ªand in the end, it was enough.

    Gerry was gone. His attribute was mine. Permanently.

    The arena around me began to shift, mechanical clicks and clacks echoing through the air. The ground trembled faintly beneath my feet as panels slid into place, walls rotated, and new shapes emerged. It was like being trapped inside a massive Rubik¡¯s Cube, each piece rearranging itself with perfect precision.

    I didn¡¯t panic. Instead, I stood still, watching with passive interest. This wasn¡¯t my first time witnessing the Tower¡¯s theatrics.

    There were 128 participants in this trial. Eight matches to win.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    This was just the beginning.

    If I understood the schedule correctly, there would be two matches today and two more tomorrow. That left me with seven battles ahead. But something about this moment felt different.

    The arena didn¡¯t seem to be setting up for another fight. If I were being shuffled to the next opponent, they would¡¯ve sent an elevator or transitioned the space more discreetly. Instead, the surroundings felt agitated, as though the entire structure was alive, reacting to some unseen force.

    Finally, the shifting stopped.

    I found myself standing in a peculiar space¡ªa courtroom, but exaggerated to an almost surreal degree. The walls stretched impossibly high, vanishing into a haze above. Surrounding me were towering pedestals, each one impossibly tall. I craned my neck to take in the full scale, and a dull ache shot through it.

    Perched on one of the highest pedestals, grinning with unnerving cheer, was a bald man I recognized immediately.

    The president of the Hunter¡¯s Association.

    ¡°Well, well,¡± he said, his voice carrying a razor-thin edge of amusement. ¡°We meet again, Reynard, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I stared back at him, unflinching. So, they¡¯d gone through all this trouble to bring me here. This wasn¡¯t just another round. It was something far more significant. I had asked for this, in a way, so I couldn¡¯t exactly blame anyone but myself.

    As I took in the scene, my gaze shifted to the figures seated below the president¡¯s towering perch. Five faces I recognized instantly¡ªnot from personal experience, but from the pages of Hunterworks.

    From left to right:

    <ul>

    <li>Atropos, her razor-sharp glare cutting through me like a blade.</li>

    <li>Maurice, the ever-composed bodyguard dressed in unassuming everyday clothes.</li>

    <li>Tori, her discerning eyes behind thick glasses locking onto me like a hawk sizing up its prey.</li>

    <li>Klein, stoic and brooding, his albinism stark against the muted tones of his suit.</li>

    <li> Yamada, calm yet unnervingly clinical, his gaze dissecting me as though I were a specimen on a slab.</li>

    </ul>

    Five of the ten directors of the Hunter¡¯s Association. This wasn¡¯t a simple inquiry¡ªit was a tribunal.

    The president¡¯s booming voice broke the silence. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it.¡±

    I stretched out my hand, revealing the dagger that had caused so much trouble. Its ominous gleam caught the light, and the room¡¯s atmosphere shifted immediately. A wave of aura fluctuations rippled through the air, crackling like static.

    The directors¡¯ eyes sharpened in unison, their auras bristling with tension.

    Only then did it occur to me how this must have looked¡ªme standing there, dagger in hand, as if I were threatening them.

    Surprisingly, it was Atropos who spoke first. ¡°We appreciate your cooperation,¡± she said, her voice measured but firm. ¡°Please hand the dagger to the maid.¡±

    Her words diffused the tension, though the crackling energy in the room didn¡¯t fully dissipate.

    Only then did I notice the figure standing quietly beside me. The maid had appeared without a sound, her presence unnervingly subtle. But my Puppetry attribute gave me an edge. Even without overt signs, I could tell this wasn¡¯t a human being. The precise way her joints moved, the mechanical perfection of her posture¡ªit screamed artificial.

    Yet by appearance alone, she could have fooled anyone. Her vibrant purple hair was tied neatly, her dark, bottomless eyes radiated a strange calm, and her amiable smile betrayed no hint of malice.

    I hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing over the dagger. Her porcelain-like hands accepted it delicately, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Despite knowing she was one of Atropos¡¯s creations, it was unsettling how human she seemed.

    As the maid retreated, I straightened my posture, locking eyes with the president. My voice was firm as I delivered my opening remark.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get in my way.¡±

    The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment.

    There was no need for pretense. I wasn¡¯t here to defend myself, plead for mercy, or call for justice. Let them judge me openly, hate me if they must. This wasn¡¯t about earning their approval. If I joined this organization, I needed to know who I could trust and who I couldn¡¯t¡ªplain and simple.

    The president chuckled, his grin widening. ¡°Bold words, Reynard. Let¡¯s see if you can back them up.¡±

    The trial had begun.

    Maurice leaned back in his chair, his youthful face breaking into a grin. ¡°This guy sure knows how to talk.¡±

    With his dark skin, afro, and playful expression, Maurice looked deceptively like a kid. If I didn¡¯t know better, I might¡¯ve dismissed him as someone out of his depth. But Maurice wasn¡¯t a child. He was the president¡¯s personal bodyguard, a position that spoke volumes about his competence.

    Klein was the next to speak, his tone calm and measured. ¡°Now, now¡­ he¡¯s someone filled with confidence. And he has the ability to back it up. Maybe?¡±

    Klein¡¯s appearance was striking¡ªan albino with hair as white as snow, skin like porcelain, and eyes the color of blood. He wore a black shirt emblazoned with a provocative image: a monkey using a flag to wipe its backside. It was bold and irreverent, much like the man himself.

    I could imagine him having a collection of offensive shirts¡­ and the like¡­

    Tori adjusted her tie, then began polishing her glasses with a cloth. ¡°He is suspicious, after all,¡± she said coolly, her tone laced with caution. ¡°Thus, this matter must be handled carefully.¡±

    Her presence exuded sharp intelligence, her poker face almost unreadable. But as she spoke, I felt her aura probing me¡ªgentle yet persistent, like a light drizzle soaking through my defenses. It wasn¡¯t painful, but it was deeply irritating.

    The sensation of her aura pokes pricked at me like buzzing gnats. My own aura, thin and stretched after the battle, was completely incapable of fending off her advanced probing. If I guessed correctly, this was the Seeker Eyes technique, trained to a high level. It wasn¡¯t overtly dangerous, but it was invasive, designed to test the layers of my being.

    I suppressed my annoyance, holding my ground.

    This wasn¡¯t the moment to let my frustration show.

    Clearing my throat, I projected calm authority as I began, ¡°As you¡¯ve seen, I just killed my opponent. While the no-kill rule hasn¡¯t been enforced due to the tower¡¯s protective abilities, the fact remains¡ªI killed him. While the no-kill rule had not been enforced, I believe that is not the reason I am called upon here. Instead, the real issue here isn¡¯t the kill itself. It¡¯s my supposed connection with Atropos.¡±

    I gestured to my doll.

    Atropos was emotionless, her expression unreadable. She remained indifferent despite her recent threats against my application to the Hunting Dogs, her declaration of being my sister, and now this public spectacle. I had expected more of a reaction from her, but perhaps she¡¯d grown too skilled at burying her emotions.

    The doll I had reconstructed stood silently at my side, an unnervingly lifelike mannequin. I gestured toward it again and continued, ¡°This doll here might seem familiar to you¡ª¡±

    Atropos abruptly cut me off. ¡°That doll was mine.¡±

    The room erupted into murmurs, incredulity and suspicion flickering across the directors¡¯ faces.

    Atropos ignored the noise and elaborated in her usual emotionless tone. ¡°I conversed with him last night, attempting to talk him out of pursuing the Hunter¡¯s life. The discussion escalated into a confrontation, and he stole my doll. He¡¯s since used it for his own purposes. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to my younger brother, Reynard Bright. As of this moment, he intends to implicate the Association in the murder of Gerry Mansel, leveraging the connection of the doll to me. For this failure on my part, I apologize to the president and my colleagues.¡±

    The murmurs grew louder with a mix of disbelief and amusement rippling through the room.

    Dr. Yamada was the picture of callousness as he smirked and chimed in. ¡°It¡¯s simple, then. Just kill him, right? Since you were the one who made the mistake, Atropos, it¡¯s only fitting you clean it up yourself.¡±

    Maurice snapped at him, his tone sharp. ¡°Shut up, Yamada. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a doctor?¡±

    I stepped back into the fray, my voice measured but firm. ¡°The Association has a responsibility of transparency to the old nobility. Isn¡¯t that why I was summoned here? To hand over the dagger? Now that it¡¯s in your possession, I should have been dismissed.¡±

    Truthfully, I didn¡¯t want the murder to be the issue here, since ¡®killing¡¯ had been allowed in the latter half of the exam¡­ It just happened that the final exam had a measure to ensure the least amount of deaths.

    The problem that I wanted them to focus on¡­ was the dagger¡­

    I let the words hang for a moment, then glanced toward Atropos. ¡°However, as Atropos pointed out, I supposedly have ¡®plans¡¯ of incriminating the Association. If that¡¯s what you believe, then let me be clear¡ªI only want one thing: for the death of Gerry Mansel to be covered up. It would be incredibly inconvenient for the Mansel household to escalate my bounty any further.¡±

    Aware that the death of Gerry Mansel could inconvenience me in my hunt for the Elsewhere Cult, I¡¯ve decided to settle this matter with a deal.

    Atropos narrowed her eyes slightly, the first hint of emotion cracking through her stoic facade.

    Maurice grinned, clearly enjoying the spectacle. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±

    Klein nodded, his crimson gaze fixed on me. ¡°Confidence aside, I think we¡¯re all wondering the same thing: What makes you think you can negotiate with us, Reynard?¡±

    The president¡¯s grin widened, his interest unmistakable. ¡°Go on, Reynard. Show us why you think you belong here.¡±

    Now, I just needed to survive their judgment.

    And everything should be fine, right?

    I scanned the room, taking in the shifting dynamics with measured patience. The tension hung heavy, but beneath it, I detected flickers of intrigue.

    Not everyone in the room wanted my head¡ªsome were weighing the potential of my offer, my boldness, and the implicit challenge I¡¯d laid before them. I wasn¡¯t just defending myself. I was handing them a problem wrapped in an opportunity, a mess they could clean up or exploit.

    ¡°My wife is Leora the Bright.¡±

    The silence stretched until President Bob leaned back in his oversized seat with a grin spreading across his face. He clapped his hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the vast chamber like the toll of a bell.

    ¡°Well, folks,¡± he said, his voice cutting through the room¡¯s charged air, ¡°looks like we¡¯ve been checkmated. And no, Dr. Yamada¡±¡ªhe wagged a finger toward the doctor, whose smirk instantly soured¡ª¡°killing him isn¡¯t nice. Tsk, tsk.¡±

    The sheer audacity of Bob¡¯s nonchalance was almost comical, but I kept my face impassive, unwilling to give anything away. Yamada¡¯s expression, meanwhile, twisted into something ugly¡ªhalf scowl, half sneer. His disdain was palpable, but he didn¡¯t speak. Bob¡¯s authority wasn¡¯t something even he dared challenge directly.

    I could tell¡­ most of them were unappreciative of the mention of my wife¡­ It made me painfully curious of the reason as to the president¡¯s favoritism towards my wife. It was making me uncomfrtable. Unfortunately, this wasn¡¯t the right time and place to ask such questions.

    Bob turned his attention back to the directors, his tone softening but still carrying an edge of command. ¡°Let¡¯s not forget the bigger picture here. At some point, I¡¯m fairly certain this young man¡±¡ªhe gestured at me with a lazy wave¡ª¡°is going to be one of our colleagues. So let¡¯s all play nice, hmm?¡±

    I inclined my head just enough to acknowledge his support. A faint smirk tugged at my lips as I responded, ¡°Thank you, President.¡±

    Bob waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. Just make sure you¡¯re worth the trouble.¡±

    I didn¡¯t miss the ripple of dissatisfaction from some of the directors, but none of them voiced their objections. Whether they liked it or not, Bob¡¯s word was law in this room.

    ¡°You are dismissed,¡± he added, his tone light but firm.

    I wasn¡¯t about to overstay my welcome. Trouble had a way of finding me even when I wasn¡¯t looking for it, so when I had a chance to avoid it, I took it. With a slight nod to the room, I turned toward the door that had opened behind me. My boots echoed against the polished floor as I walked away, the courtroom¡¯s oppressive atmosphere slowly fading with each step.

    But before I crossed the threshold, I glanced back. My eyes locked with Atropos, who had been silent throughout the exchange. For a moment, her impassive mask slipped, and something complicated flickered across her face¡ªhesitation, maybe, or conflict.

    I smiled faintly, my voice carrying just enough for her to hear. ¡°Until then, sister.¡±

    Her expression froze, the crack in her composure vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. She didn¡¯t respond, but I didn¡¯t expect her to.

    ~047

 048 Trust No One

    XLVIII

    As Reynard exited the courtroom, the air shifted from charged tension to a strange, almost casual atmosphere. The directors exchanged glances, their reactions a kaleidoscope of emotions¡ªamusement, unease, and guarded curiosity.

    The room¡¯s layout, with the directors perched high above the floor like spectators in a coliseum, was intentionally impractical for a courtroom hearing. It was a precaution. No defendant, no matter how gifted or desperate, could easily cross the yawning gap to reach them if things escalated to violence.

    Atropos stood still, her arms crossed, her expression stoic. Yet beneath her calm facade, a storm churned. Reynard¡¯s behavior troubled her deeply. It wasn¡¯t his claim of amnesia or the unsettling familiarity he projected when their eyes met moments ago. No, it was the transactional nature of his demeanor. He was using her, and that much was painfully clear.

    This revelation didn¡¯t surprise her¡ªit simply reinforced the gulf that had grown between them. Whatever they had once been to each other, those bonds were gone. What remained was cold, pragmatic calculation on his part.

    President Bob¡¯s booming laughter shattered the silence like a hammer striking an anvil. ¡°Hahahaha~! What an interesting guy, isn¡¯t he?¡± He leaned forward, slamming his desk in delight. ¡°What is he? Like five years younger than me? And he¡¯s already pulling moves like this? Love it!¡±

    Dr. Yamada rubbed the back of his neck, his usual smugness replaced by visible unease. ¡°So scary¡­ I think he wanted to kill me,¡± he muttered, his voice lacking its usual bravado.

    Maurice, seated to Bob¡¯s left, shot Yamada a sharp glance. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have provoked him. What were you thinking, saying something like that?¡±

    Klein, his pale skin glowing almost unnaturally under the room¡¯s lights, leaned back with a mischievous grin. ¡°Ahahaha~! Relax, Maurice,¡± he said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°I asked the doc to say that. It¡¯s not like he lost his mind or anything.¡±

    Maurice¡¯s exasperation deepened. ¡°Why would you do that?¡±

    Klein shrugged, his grin widening. ¡°Call it an experiment. Don¡¯t worry, Doc, you¡¯re not getting killed over this. You¡¯re a doctor, after all. That¡¯s like a shield of morality, right?¡±

    Dr. Yamada¡¯s face twisted into a reluctant grimace. ¡°You¡¯re giving me the thing, right? Like you promised?¡± His tone was low, but the underlying eagerness was unmistakable. Whatever ¡°thing¡± they were discussing, it was undoubtedly questionable in nature.

    Maurice groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. ¡°Unbelievable. That¡¯s all you amount to? That¡¯s your price? Really?¡± He shook his head and sighed. ¡°Still, that Reynard¡­ there¡¯s something off about him. His aura¡¯s weird. I can¡¯t tell if I should be scared or not. Is his control just that good, or is it actually that ordinary?¡±

    Atropos finally stirred, her voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. ¡°Reynard¡¯s aura isn¡¯t ordinary,¡± she said, her tone cold but precise. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ mutated. You feel strange because it¡¯s too different for our senses to properly interpret.¡±

    Her words brought an uneasy silence to the room. Bob leaned back in his chair, his grin broadening as though he¡¯d known the answer all along. Maurice frowned, his discomfort deepening, while Klein¡¯s grin grew even wider, his curiosity clearly piqued.

    For Atropos, the conversation might as well have been happening in another world. Her mind lingered on Reynard¡¯s parting words.

    Until then, sister.

    The phrase was simple, but it carried a weight that pressed against her composure.

    His parting words echoed in her mind.

    Until then, sister.

    The phrase was simple, but the tone beneath it was sharp, cutting through her defenses. It wasn¡¯t familial. It wasn¡¯t warm. It was strategic¡ªa calculated move. She recognized it because it was the kind of thing she might have said herself.

    For the first time in years, she wondered if her brother was more like her than she cared to admit.

    Her usually composed expression softened briefly as fragments of the past surfaced. She remembered a time when Reynard¡¯s voice was bright and full of warmth, when he¡¯d call her ¡°Big Sis¡± with a smile that could disarm anyone. That boy was gone now, replaced by a man as cold and calculating as the world had forced him to become.

    The sharp contrast between the boy she had known and the man he had become stung more than she expected.

    Her thoughts drifted to the day she had hidden in the shadows to witness his wedding. She had stayed out of sight, watching from afar as Reynard exchanged vows with a woman who exuded power and charisma. Leora. A hunter of extraordinary skill and renown, Leora had been the kind of woman Atropos might have admired¡ªperhaps even envied¡ªin another life.

    The memory of the ceremony was bittersweet. She had seen Reynard smile that day, the kind of smile she hadn¡¯t seen since they were children. For a fleeting moment, she had dared to hope that he might find happiness.

    But the whirlwind of events that followed had crushed that hope. Reynard¡¯s life had spiraled out of control. Leora¡¯s existence had shattered him, remade him, and his once-stable existence had been consumed by the hunter world. In turn, Reynard had become a hunter.

    Or, if she were to believe the patterns she¡¯d observed over the years, into a predator on the hunt.

    Atropos clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she wrestled with the implications. Reynard wasn¡¯t just surviving; he was moving with purpose, a predator stalking prey in a world where alliances shifted like sand in the wind.

    She took a deep breath, her mask of composure sliding back into place. The directors¡¯ chatter around her was nothing more than background noise. Reynard¡¯s presence had been like a stone thrown into still water, and the ripples were far from over.

    Her gaze turned to the door once more, her thoughts a swirl of regret, suspicion, and an unsettling sense of foreboding.

    Until then, sister.

    The words lingered, a promise¡ªor perhaps a warning¡ªthat she couldn¡¯t ignore.

    ¡°Atropos,¡± Tori¡¯s sharp voice cut through the lingering tension, snapping Atropos out of her reverie. Her cold, precise tone was matched by the glint of her glasses as she adjusted them. ¡°Explain yourself. This is the first time we¡¯re hearing about a younger brother, and to think you went behind our backs for this? Reynard¡¯s qualifications are questionable at best. If anything, we should fail him outright.¡±

    Atropos straightened, her usual impassive mask firmly in place. ¡°I agree. We need to fail him.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    The room fell silent. The weight of her words was palpable, and the directors turned to her, their expressions a mixture of surprise and suspicion. Atropos rarely spoke with such directness, let alone in agreement with Tori¡¯s pointed accusations.

    Tori narrowed her eyes, her suspicion deepening. ¡°You agree? Then why bring him here in the first place?¡±

    Atropos¡¯s gaze was steady. ¡°I didn¡¯t bring him here. But you are right. We must fail him.¡±

    Klein, ever the provocateur, chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. His grin widened, amused by the unexpected twist. ¡°That¡¯s a surprising reaction. I thought there¡¯d be nepotism at work here. If he¡¯s as capable as he seems, I wouldn¡¯t mind him joining my staff. I could always use another talented individual.¡±

    Dr. Yamada yawned loudly, breaking the tension with his characteristic nonchalance. Without missing a beat, he produced an erotic magazine from seemingly nowhere, flipping through it with the ease of a man utterly detached from the weighty discussion around him.

    Maurice groaned, his frustration evident. ¡°No way, Klein. He goes with me. HR is overstaffed anyway. I could use someone like him to pick up the slack.¡±

    The bickering between Klein and Maurice grew louder, their tones a mix of banter and genuine interest. Despite their usual irreverence, it was clear they both saw potential in Reynard.

    Bob¡¯s booming laughter cut through the noise, silencing the squabble with its sheer volume. The president leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ornate pedestal in front of him. His grin stretched wide, his jovial demeanor belying the gravity of his position.

    ¡°He wanted to be a Hunting Dog though?¡± Bob asked in a sentence-like manner, his voice carrying a provocative edge.

    The room fell into an uneasy quiet. Those seven words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy with implication. The Hunting Dogs¡ªan elite yet infamous hidden weapon of the Hunter¡¯s Association¡ªwas not a weapon used lightly. It was a world of blood and shadows, where morality blurred and survival often depended on one¡¯s willingness to sacrifice everything.

    Atropos¡¯s jaw tightened, but she maintained her calm. ¡°Yes. He chose that path, knowing full well what it entails. His reasons are his own.¡±

    Bob¡¯s grin widened, but his eyes grew sharper, scrutinizing her. ¡°And you? Do you think he¡¯s fit for it, Atropos?¡±

    The question struck like a hammer. Atropos hesitated for the briefest moment, the weight of her conflicted emotions pressing against her stoic exterior. ¡°No,¡± she finally said, her voice steady but laced with an edge of finality. ¡°He is not fit for it. Never.¡±

    Klein¡¯s grin didn¡¯t falter, though his eyes glimmered with intrigue. ¡°Interesting. You say that, but the way he handled himself back there? I¡¯d say he¡¯s closer than you think.¡±

    Maurice nodded reluctantly. ¡°He¡¯s rough, sure, but there¡¯s something about him. He¡¯s got the makings of a predator, even if he¡¯s still learning to hunt.¡±

    Tori crossed her arms, her gaze cold and calculating. ¡°The Hunting Dogs don¡¯t take in half-measures. Either he¡¯s ready, or he¡¯s a liability. If he¡¯s not fit, then we have no reason to humor him further.¡±

    Atropos said nothing, her mind turning over the implications. Reynard¡¯s choice to pursue the Hunting Dogs wasn¡¯t just reckless¡ªit was dangerous, not only for himself but for anyone tied to him. And yet, she couldn¡¯t shake the nagging feeling that his resolve, twisted as it was, might be stronger than anyone realized.

    Bob clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with a resounding smack. ¡°Well, this is shaping up to be more fun than I expected! Let¡¯s keep an eye on him, shall we? Whether he¡¯s a predator or prey, Reynard Bright is bound to shake things up.¡±

    The Hunting Dogs were an unusual breed¡ªa patchwork of psychopaths, criminals seeking redemption or leverage, battle-hardened maniacs, and eccentric souls with goals so consuming they willingly surrendered dignity and freedom. To join their ranks was less a career choice and more a life sentence, bound by a code as ironclad as it was ruthless.

    They lived and died for results, and anything less was unacceptable.

    Atropos¡¯s expression tightened almost imperceptibly, but her voice remained calm and neutral. ¡°That¡¯s precisely why he shouldn¡¯t join. He won¡¯t make the cut.¡±

    Bob leaned back in his chair, arching an eyebrow as a sly grin spread across his face. ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d be proud of him following in your footsteps, Atropos. After all, wasn¡¯t it you who said only the strongest and most determined could survive among the Dogs?¡±

    Her jaw tensed, but she didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°That¡¯s why I know he doesn¡¯t belong there.¡±

    For a moment, Bob studied her, his gaze sharper than usual despite the playful edge to his tone.

    Atropos had been a Hunting Dog once¡ªbut not the Association¡¯s. The Dogs originally belonged to the Government, a secretive unit tasked with doing what no other division dared. They had been untouchable until Atropos betrayed them. Through her cunning and Bob¡¯s authority, the Hunting Dogs had been wrested from the Government¡¯s control and folded into the Association. It was a coup that had left scars, both visible and hidden.

    Klein chuckled, breaking the tension. His voice was tinged with amusement, but his eyes sparkled with intrigue. ¡°Oh, but he¡¯s got the determination. Did you see how he carried himself today? That¡¯s Hunting Dog material right there. Rough around the edges, sure, but there¡¯s fire in his eyes.¡±

    Maurice scoffed, crossing his arms. ¡°No way. He¡¯s too unpredictable. We don¡¯t need more problems in the Hunting Dogs, especially after¡ª¡±

    ¡°After what?¡± Klein interrupted, his grin turning razor-sharp. ¡°After Leora? Don¡¯t be coy. We all know she¡¯s the one exception.¡±

    The mention of Leora¡¯s name sent a ripple through the room, silencing even the most irreverent among them. Her name carried weight¡ªa living legend whose story had become myth within the Association. Leora was the impossible: a Hunting Dog who had not only survived but walked away with her dignity and freedom intact. She was a force of nature, her skill unmatched, her resolve unshakable. And, as fate would have it, Reynard¡¯s wife.

    Atropos¡¯s gaze darkened at the comparison. She and Leora had shared a similar path, but their exits from the Dogs couldn¡¯t have been more different. Leora had left by sheer force of will, carving a path for herself without bowing to anyone. Atropos, on the other hand, had left by changing masters, trading one leash for another.

    The thought gnawed at her pride, though she would never admit it aloud.

    Maurice shook his head, his tone firm. ¡°Leora was a once-in-a-generation exception. Reynard isn¡¯t her. He¡¯s frail and untested.¡±

    ¡°Untested, maybe,¡± Klein countered, his grin unwavering. ¡°But isn¡¯t that the point of the Dogs? To break the untested and rebuild them into something extraordinary?¡±

    Bob¡¯s fingers tapped rhythmically against the edge of the pedestal, his grin fading into something colder, sharper. ¡°That¡¯s exactly the point,¡± he said, his voice losing its usual joviality. ¡°If anyone¡¯s got the guts to handle the Dogs and come out alive, it¡¯s someone married to her.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s hands clenched into fists beneath the table, her knuckles white against the synthetic skin. She kept her face impassive, but the thought of Reynard walking the path of a Hunting Dog made her stomach twist. That life wasn¡¯t just brutal¡ªit was consuming. It devoured people, leaving only hollow shells behind. She wanted Reynard as far from it as possible.

    But Bob had already decided.

    With a dismissive wave of his hand, he cut through the murmurs in the room. ¡°No arguments,¡± he declared, his tone final. ¡°The Hunting Dogs fit him. Let¡¯s not waste time bickering over something that¡¯s already set in motion.¡±

    The room fell silent.

    Atropos¡¯s chest tightened. She had seen firsthand what the Hunting Dogs did to people. She had seen the broken minds, the fractured souls, the humanity stripped away. Bob¡¯s decree felt like a death sentence, one she couldn¡¯t stop, one she had no power to overturn.

    Her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel as she stared at Bob, whose booming laughter once again filled the chamber. It grated against her nerves, each guffaw like nails against a chalkboard. Finally, with gritted teeth, she spoke, her voice low and pleading.

    ¡°Bob,¡± she said, her composure cracking at the edges. ¡°Please don¡¯t do this to me.¡±

    For the first time, Bob¡¯s grin faltered completely. His eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, there was something almost like regret in his expression. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, his voice heavy.

    Atropos¡¯s throat tightened.

    Crying wasn¡¯t an option for her¡ªnot anymore. Most of her parts were no longer human, and whatever remnants of her humanity remained were buried beneath layers of steel and circuitry. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her emotions a storm raging inside her.

    Bob.

    She owed him her life. She cherished him, admired him, loved him in a way that was almost worshipful. She had laid her heart bare to him, trusted him with her soul.

    But Bob trusted no one.

    Tori¡¯s voice cut through the tension like a blade. ¡°You want to use Reynard as a hostage, don¡¯t you, Bob?¡± she said, her tone laced with venom. ¡°You are such¡­ a cruel bastard.¡±

    Bob turned his gaze toward her, unflinching. ¡°That¡¯s President Bob to you,¡± he said plainly, his voice devoid of humor.

    The room grew even quieter, the air thick with discomfort. Even Dr. Yamada stopped flipping through his erotic magazine, his usual nonchalance replaced by unease.

    Bob didn¡¯t deny it. He didn¡¯t try to justify it. He simply let the accusation hang in the air, unchallenged and unrepentant.

    Atropos¡¯s stare remained fixed on him, her eyes burning with a mixture of fury and despair. She had always known, deep down, that this was Bob¡¯s intention. He didn¡¯t see Reynard as a person, as her brother. He saw him as a tool, a bargaining chip, a means to an end.

    She had been in denial, clinging to the hope that Bob might see things differently, that he might care enough to spare her this agony.

    But Bob trusted no one.

    Not even her.

    Not even Atropos, who had devoted everything to him.

    ~048

 049 Shadow of Elsewhere

    XLIX

    Dr. Yamada fiddled absentmindedly with the edge of his lab coat, his tone light yet laced with genuine curiosity. ¡°What¡¯s he trying to achieve by joining the Dogs? Seems like a death wish if you ask me.¡±

    Tori adjusted her glasses, her expression composed, though her sharp eyes betrayed her focus. ¡°From my sources, it seems he¡¯s fighting an organization called the Elsewhere Cult.¡±

    Atropos, seated silently, felt her attention snap to the conversation. Her sharp gaze flitted across the room, assessing reactions as Tori continued.

    ¡°Two years ago, the Bright family was attacked,¡± Tori said, her voice clipped and professional. ¡°During the incident, the only son of Leora Bright and Reynard Bright was reportedly critically injured¡ªor dead. ¡®Reportedly,¡¯ because it¡¯s likely misinformation spread by Leora herself. Shortly after, Reynard disappeared.¡±

    Atropos kept her expression impassive, though the mention of the incident struck a nerve. She had followed that tragedy closely, chasing every lead she could find. Yet, no matter how hard she searched, the trail had gone cold, leaving a lingering frustration she could never quite shake.

    Tori tapped her fingers on the desk, her tone darkening. ¡°Not long after, Leora annihilated the mercenary group known as the Oval. And I don¡¯t mean a small skirmish¡ªshe completely dismantled them. Fast forward two years, Reynard resurfaces as an unofficial hunter. He infiltrates a gala, kills multiple attendees, and wreaks havoc. My team is still piecing together the connections, but there¡¯s a strong likelihood Reynard¡¯s targets had ties to the Oval or the attack on his family.¡±

    She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. ¡°What remains unclear is what he hopes to achieve by joining the Hunting Dogs. However, my team traced several offshore accounts linked to the gala¡¯s victims. They all lead back to one entity: a cult.¡±

    Atropos finally spoke, her voice calm yet decisive. ¡°The Elsewhere Cult. For some reason, they want Reynard¡¯s son dead.¡±

    Klein tilted his head, his white hair catching the light. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    Tori¡¯s frown deepened, her irritation barely concealed. ¡°An urban legend,¡± she said tersely. ¡°They¡¯re rumored to be a shadowy organization promising immortality to the wealthy through secretive, likely unethical, means. If they exist, they fall under the jurisdiction of the World Order, not ours. Hunters deal with cryptids, rogue hunters, and phenomena classified as the Strange¡ªnot cult conspiracies. Especially not ones rumored to practice unsanctioned aura experiments or connected to the old nobility.¡±

    By ¡°Strange,¡± Tori referred to rifts, floating islands, peculiar phenomena, and knowledge that defied conventional understanding. And Reynard, Atropos realized grimly, was strange in his own right.

    Tori¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Reynard¡¯s fight with Gerry Mansel presents an opportunity. Whatever technique Reynard used to force a confession, it¡¯s rare. That ability could make him an excellent interrogator or spy under my staff.¡±

    Klein chuckled softly, his voice tinged with sarcasm. ¡°And the fallout? Don¡¯t forget the Mansel Household. Exposing Gerry¡¯s involvement with the cult would break our promise to Reynard to cover up Gerry¡¯s death. The Mansels would retaliate¡ªagainst both him and us.¡±

    Tori pressed her lips into a thin line. ¡°If we suppress the recording, we risk damaging our credibility. Instead, we could spin the narrative¡ªframe the Elsewhere Cult as a dire threat. Reynard becomes a harmless pawn in the story. Or,¡± she added with a shrug, ¡°we could erase his existence altogether.¡±

    Bob¡¯s voice cut through the debate, casual but weighted. ¡°That¡¯s not an option. Transparency isn¡¯t just a buzzword. The old nobility would demand an investigation, forcing us to hunt Reynard down. At this point, compromise is our only path forward, limited by what Reynard himself wants.¡±

    He surveyed the room, his jovial demeanor replaced by something more somber. ¡°Some of you want him in your departments. But let me remind you¡ªthe darkness of this world runs deeper than you can imagine. The Elsewhere Cult is just one thread in a vast, dangerous tapestry. And we rarely get involved for a reason. That¡¯s the World Order¡¯s job.¡±

    Dr. Yamada snorted, tossing a pen onto the table. ¡°The World Order. What a joke. A secretive organization supposedly on par with us and the mundane government? Ridiculous. What do they even do?¡±

    Bob chuckled dryly, his eyes sharp. ¡°What they must. And so will we.¡±

    The meeting adjourned, leaving Atropos feeling more conflicted than ever. She returned to the Command Center, a sterile room bathed in the cold glow of countless monitors. The faint hum of machinery filled the air as her dolls¡ªartificial constructs of her own design¡ªscurried around, performing routine maintenance on the systems.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    She worked alongside them, her mechanical fingers deftly repairing a malfunctioning terminal. The repetitive motions offered her a fleeting sense of control, a distraction from the turmoil churning in her mind.

    The soft ding of the elevator broke her concentration. She turned just in time to see Bob step into the room, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the polished floor. He walked with an air of casual authority, taking his place in the throne-like chair at the center of the Command Center.

    Atropos straightened, brushing off imaginary dust from her coat. ¡°Where¡¯s Maurice?¡± she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. Bob rarely moved without his ever-present bodyguard.

    Bob leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming on the armrest. ¡°You¡¯re sulking.¡±

    Atropos narrowed her eyes. ¡°Of course I am. My brother¡ªyou¡¯re putting him in danger.¡±

    Bob tilted his head, studying her with a faint smirk. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said, his voice calm yet deliberate. ¡°I want him as a hostage. But not against you.¡±

    Her synthetic heart, encased in layers of steel and regret, tightened. ¡°Who, then?¡± she asked, though she already had a sinking suspicion. ¡°Leora?¡±

    Bob chuckled, a low, almost fatherly sound. ¡°Leora¡¯s good, but not that good.¡±

    Atropos clenched her fists, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Then who?¡±

    Bob¡¯s smirk faded, replaced by a calculating expression. ¡°The Elsewhere Cult.¡±

    Atropos froze, her mind racing. ¡°You¡¯re using Reynard to bait them?¡±

    Bob chuckled, the sound laced with a strange mix of amusement and gravity. ¡°Bait? Oh no~! A hidden knife? Yes.¡± He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. ¡°I cashed in a favor from the World Order. Borrowed their precogs for a little peek into the Elsewhere Cult. Fascinating stuff, really. Turns out they¡¯re one of the few remnants of the Old Nobility¡¯s pet projects.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s frown deepened. She caught the capitalization in his tone¡ªOld Nobility. Capital O. Capital N. It wasn¡¯t just a title; it was a distinction that carried weight, history, and secrets. Atropos wasn¡¯t privy to the full extent of what the Old Nobility represented, but the mention alone was enough to capture her full attention.

    ¡°Care to elaborate?¡± she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

    Bob grinned, as if relishing the opportunity to lecture. ¡°The Old Nobility,¡± he began, ¡°weren¡¯t just aristocrats with big estates and deeper pockets than sense. They were the ones who thought they could save humanity¡ªoften from itself. When the end of the world seemed inevitable, they threw everything they had at solving it. Wealth, intellect, influence. The works.¡±

    ¡°And the Elsewhere Cult is one of their solutions?¡± Atropos asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

    Bob nodded, his expression turning serious. ¡°One of the last surviving ones. Humanity devised all sorts of methods to cheat extinction. Genetic modification, artificial immortality, creating sanctuaries in inhospitable places. You name it. Of course, most of them failed spectacularly. Jumping into another reality? That was among their more¡­ tame ideas.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s synthetic fingers paused mid-motion as she absorbed his words. ¡°Another reality?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Bob confirmed, his tone light but his gaze sharp. ¡°The Elsewhere Cult¡¯s obsession with the concept of immortality stems from one of those failed experiments. They believe they can escape death by stepping into a parallel dimension. Theoretically, they¡¯re not wrong¡ªalternate realities do exist. But the methods they¡¯re using? Completely unhinged.¡±

    ¡°And Reynard fits into this¡­ how?¡± Atropos asked, her voice low, almost hesitant.

    Bob¡¯s smirk widened, his sharp gaze glinting with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. ¡°In the beginning, the reason the Cult got in touch with the Bright family was because of a prophecy. A precog within their ranks saw Reynard¡¯s son as the one destined to destroy them. They didn¡¯t take that lightly, of course. They went after the boy with everything they had.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s chest tightened. The thought of Reynard¡¯s son¡ªher nephew¡ªbeing hunted down by a cult sent a pang of anger and dread through her. ¡°Leora must¡¯ve fended them off¡­ or they¡¯ve been misinformed? But that was too much of a coincidence, considering they had a very powerful preg,,,¡±

    Bob leaned back in his throne-like chair, exuding a calm that only served to stoke Atropos¡¯s frustration. ¡°Desperation has a funny way of bringing out the extraordinary. After the Cult¡¯s first attack on his family, Reynard woke his aura. And not just any aura¡ªhis attributes strongly resonate with other worlds. That¡¯s rare. Extremely rare. The Elsewhere Cult couldn¡¯t resist the allure of that kind of power.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s fingers tightened into fists. ¡°They wanted to use him,¡± she said, her voice flat.

    Bob nodded, his expression serious now. ¡°Exactly. To them, Reynard is a key¡ªor at least a potential one. If they could harness or replicate his ability, they might finally achieve what they¡¯ve been chasing for decades: a way to traverse parallel worlds. But replicating it perfectly? Impossible. Even for them.¡±

    ¡°Then Reynard should be dead by now,¡± Atropos said bitterly.

    ¡°By all accounts, yes,¡± Bob replied, his tone unusually solemn. ¡°But he¡¯s not. And that¡¯s what makes him so dangerous¡ªto them and to anyone who gets in their way.¡±

    Atropos narrowed her eyes. ¡°And what do you get out of all this, Bob? What¡¯s your reward? Surely, the World Order didn¡¯t lend you their precogs for free.¡±

    Bob¡¯s smirk returned, sly and self-assured. ¡°Ironically enough, the ¡®target¡¯ the Cult¡¯s been chasing has been provoking them right to their faces. Reynard¡¯s presence in the Dogs? It¡¯s a chess move. They¡¯re forced to react, to reveal themselves. And when they do, we¡¯ll be ready to strike.¡±

    Atropos stared at him, her mind churning with questions and doubts. Bob¡¯s plan was audacious, reckless even. But it was also undeniably clever. The question was whether Reynard¡ªor any of them¡ªcould survive the game Bob was playing.

    ¡°You¡¯re still gambling with his life,¡± she said, her voice cold.

    Bob shrugged, unbothered by her accusation. ¡°Life is a gamble, Atropos. The only question is whether you¡¯re playing to win¡ªor to survive.¡±

    ~049

 050 Gambler vs. Author

    L

    My next match was against a speedster¡ªa fighter just a fraction faster than Gerry, but faster nonetheless. She was formidable, no doubt about it. Without my Marionette, I¡¯d have been pulverized.

    The moment I saw her, a flicker of recognition crossed my mind. She was the same girl who had outrun Black and me during the seventh stage of the exam. I still remembered her smug taunts as she zipped past us, leaving nothing but dust and irritation in her wake. And now, she stood in front of me, ready to fight.

    She was a Fighter-type with an impressive speed attribute. Her attacks weren¡¯t just fast; they were precise and powerful. Every blow she landed on my doll reverberated with enough force to remind me that, had it been me in the Marionette¡¯s place, I¡¯d have been left bruised and broken.

    The fight played out like a relentless game of cat and mouse. She darted around the arena, striking with pinpoint accuracy, while my doll took the brunt of her attacks. Marionette, sturdy and resilient, countered where it could, though it wasn¡¯t nearly quick enough to keep up with her raw speed.

    It became a contest between her agility and my doll¡¯s durability. She¡¯d hit, my doll would retaliate and miss; she¡¯d weave around, and my doll would anticipate her movements, occasionally landing a glancing blow. The cycle continued, back and forth.

    But my Marionette had two key advantages: stamina and the subtle siphoning of her aura with every command I issued. While she burned through her reserves in a desperate bid to overwhelm me, I kept replenishing mine. Slowly but surely, the balance began to shift.

    Her speed began to falter. Exhaustion crept into her movements¡ªimperceptible to most, but clear as day to me. My doll¡¯s counters began landing more frequently, its resilience outlasting her fraying endurance.

    Finally, she crumpled under the weight of her own exertion, unable to maintain the relentless pace she¡¯d set for herself. My Marionette stood victorious, its unwavering stamina and resilience carrying it through.

    The third match arrived the following day, and with plenty of rest, I felt more prepared. My opponent this time was a massive, bodybuilder-looking guy who exuded confidence¡ªor maybe arrogance¡ªin his defenses.

    He stood there like an immovable wall, letting my doll strike him repeatedly as if to prove his invincibility. At first, I thought he was just a particularly stubborn Fighter, his aura robust and his physique absurdly tough. But as the fight wore on, his true nature became clear.

    The first clue came when the damage he¡¯d taken seemed to transform into something else¡ªa sudden boost in power. That¡¯s when I realized he was a Dealer. His ability allowed him to accumulate damage and convert it into energy, enhancing his strength, speed, and durability.

    As the fight reached its climax, he became a near-unstoppable force. His aura replenished almost endlessly, his wounds closed faster than I could inflict them, and his strikes carried overwhelming power. For a moment, it felt like a stalemate¡ªhis healing and resilience were too much for my doll alone.

    But I wasn¡¯t about to give in.

    The key was leveraging the synergy between me and my Marionette. I turned the fight into a two-versus-one affair, forcing him to defend against an invisible attacker¡ªme¡ªwhile my doll pressed its relentless assault. Every time he retaliated against one of us, the other struck.

    Then came the turning point. Using Soul Chains, I tethered him to a fixed aura value, equalizing it between him, my doll, and myself. His regenerative abilities were rendered less effective as the constant aura siphoning redistributed his reserves. Combined with my doll¡¯s unyielding strikes, he was forced onto the defensive.

    From there, it didn¡¯t take long. His overconfidence faltered, his movements slowed, and with one final coordinated strike¡ªa chain-enhanced blow from me and a devastating punch from the doll¡ªhe crumbled.

    Victory was mine, but it hadn¡¯t come easily. This fight reminded me of the importance of adapting and exploiting every edge my abilities could give me.

    As I prepared for my fourth match, the realization hit me: so far, I¡¯d been cutting through my opponents with relative ease. Sure, they were challenging, but they¡¯d been well within the range of my calculations. Every fight had left little room for surprises, as if the odds had always been stacked slightly in my favor.

    That was about to change.

    The final 16 were a different beast. These were the strongest competitors left standing, and I couldn¡¯t afford to rely on simple tricks like hiding with invisibility while my doll did the heavy lifting. From here on, I¡¯d have to adjust, adapt, and face them head-on.

    Adding to the challenge, the matches from this point forward would be broadcast¡ªnot just on the dark net and the hunter net, but even to select mundane viewers. It was a bold move by the Association, a way to cement their influence and bolster their image both within the hunter community and outside it.

    Before the match, I ran into Selena.

    ¡°Still in the fight?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yep, pretty much on it,¡± she replied with a small shrug. ¡°And so is Black.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°The two of you are getting close, huh?¡±

    Selena¡¯s face scrunched up in mock disgust. ¡°He isn¡¯t my type, just saying. Anyway, who¡¯s your opponent?¡±

    I glanced at the tournament brackets displayed on the card I¡¯d been given. Unlike the earlier rounds, the pairings for the fourth match onward allowed contestants foreknowledge of their next opponents¡ªa move by the organizers to heighten the stakes.

    My eyes landed on a name, and my jaw tightened.

    ¡°That bastard, Geoffrey,¡± I muttered.

    Selena smirked knowingly. ¡°Figures. Mine¡¯s Black.¡±

    ¡°Think you can take him?¡± I asked.

    She folded her arms, considering it. ¡°It¡¯ll be tough, but I¡¯ve got my golden pass secured, so I¡¯m not stressing too much. The president said the top 16 would all get one, remember?¡±

    I nodded. The golden pass was an undeniable safety net, granting privileges far beyond most hunters. But like Selena, I wasn¡¯t content with just a spot in the top 16.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°I still want to shoot for number one,¡± Selena added, her tone sharpening. ¡°And word is, the top three will get some kind of special rewards. It¡¯s something new, and if it¡¯s what I think it is, it¡¯s worth going all in.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t argue with that.

    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re as much of a gambler as ever.¡±

    ¡°Call it ambition,¡± Selena shot back with a wink. ¡°Moreover, should you really be saying that?¡±

    Before I could retort, a blinding flash of light consumed my vision. When it faded, I found myself standing atop a mountain. Jagged peaks stretched in every direction, their stark silhouettes cutting sharply against a pale blue sky. Thin air brushed my face, cool and crisp, carrying the faint whistle of a high-altitude wind. The terrain beneath my boots was rough, uneven stone, and the space was wide enough to offer room for a brutal battle.

    My match had come before Selena¡¯s, it seemed.

    Before I could process my surroundings further, another burst of light flared in front of me. As the brightness dimmed, Geoffrey emerged. His ragged appearance was as disheveled as ever, his wild grin stretched across his face in an expression of absolute delight.

    ¡°It looks like we meet again!¡± he hollered, his voice echoing off the surrounding cliffs.

    I tried to move, instinctively preparing to summon my doll, but I couldn¡¯t. My body was locked in place, my limbs stiff as if bound by invisible chains. An oppressive weight pressed against me, and I quickly realized what was happening: an aura was holding me captive.

    A booming voice rang through the air, cutting through the tension.

    ¡°You get a commentator for the final 16! Isn¡¯t that great?¡± It was President Bob, his jovial tone as infuriating as ever. ¡°Anyways, you¡¯re still inside the tower, so don¡¯t be scared of taking risks. You won¡¯t exactly die! But hey, everything around you is real enough to hurt. So, what are you waiting for? Fight!¡±

    As his voice faded, the aura trapping me dissipated. Simultaneously, my doll appeared in front of me, materializing out of thin air. The mechanics of the tournament had kicked in¡ªmy doll couldn¡¯t be summoned until the fight was officially declared. A safeguard, no doubt, to keep matches ¡°fair¡± in the eyes of the Association.

    Geoffrey stood there, radiating smugness, his grin growing wider. He looked utterly unconcerned, his posture as relaxed as if this were a casual spar rather than a fight for dominance.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he called, his voice dripping with arrogance. ¡°I¡¯ll give you the first move.¡±

    Arrogant prick.

    I wasn¡¯t about to fall for Geoffrey¡¯s mind games. His grin wasn¡¯t just for show; it was part of his strategy. I knew the bastard too well to fall into his trap.

    Geoffrey¡¯s most devastating ability was as cunning as it was simple: he could survive the first attack of any fight without retaliation. Once he endured, he could strike back instantaneously with the same attack¡ªmagnified tenfold. It was the kind of power that made him dangerous, especially to anyone brash or overconfident enough to go all in at the start.

    A Dealer-type like me, Geoffrey thrived on risks, gambling with his life in ways that made even hardened hunters uneasy. But where he relied on boldness and an almost supernatural confidence in his defense, I preferred calculated strategy.

    I gestured, and my doll lunged forward with a basic jab. It wasn¡¯t the kind of attack Geoffrey would want¡ªit lacked the power needed to trigger his ability. At the same moment, I activated my cloak and vanished, blending seamlessly into the mountain air.

    Geoffrey dodged the doll¡¯s strike effortlessly, his grin widening. His body language practically begged for a stronger attack. But I wasn¡¯t taking the bait.

    The doll pursued him relentlessly, its attacks calculated but intentionally restrained. It jabbed, swiped, and feinted, keeping the pressure on without giving Geoffrey the opportunity to exploit my moves.

    ¡°Playing it safe, are we?¡± Geoffrey taunted, his voice laced with amusement. ¡°I expected more from you.¡±

    His grin widened further as he suddenly shifted gears, closing the distance between him and the doll in a single, fluid motion. He struck with a devastating kick that sent the doll skidding backward across the rocky terrain.

    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± he sneered, his aura flaring with power.

    I reappeared behind him, my hand outstretched as I prepared to place a Soul Link on his back. But Geoffrey¡¯s reflexes were monstrous. In a blur, he twisted around, grabbing my wrist with bone-crushing strength.

    ¡°Too slow,¡± he hissed, slamming me into the ground.

    The impact rattled through my body, pain radiating from where I¡¯d hit the rocky surface. I struggled to rise, but Geoffrey didn¡¯t let up. He pressed the advantage, his strikes relentless and precise.

    I barely had time to summon Soul Chains from my doll, their spectral glow cutting through the air as they lashed toward Geoffrey. He dodged them with infuriating ease, his movements a blur.

    ¡°Is that the best you can do?¡± he taunted again, his grin never wavering.

    But I wasn¡¯t done yet.

    The doll surged forward, its movements a blur of its own as it launched a coordinated assault with the chains. At the same time, I activated Soul Castling, switching places with the doll in the blink of an eye.

    The sudden shift caught Geoffrey off guard, if only for a moment. It was enough for me to plant a Soul Link on his arm.

    ¡°Got you,¡± I muttered, a triumphant smirk curling my lips.

    Geoffrey¡¯s grin faltered, replaced by a scowl.

    The tide of the battle was about to turn¡­ or so I¡¯d like to think.

    Geoffrey dispersed my aura as he flickered to my left.

    I didn¡¯t have the luxury of staking my life every time, nor the absurd faith Geoffrey seemed to have in his abilities. So, I played it safe.

    My doll lunged forward, delivering a basic jab. It wasn¡¯t the kind of attack Geoffrey would want¡ªit lacked the power needed to trigger his ability. At the same moment, I activated my cloak and vanished, blending seamlessly into the mountain air.

    Geoffrey moved with fluidity, dodging the doll¡¯s strike effortlessly. His grin widened, his body language practically goading the doll to come at him with something stronger.

    But I wasn¡¯t about to take the bait.

    The doll pursued him relentlessly, its attacks calculated but intentionally restrained. It jabbed, swiped, and feinted, keeping the pressure on without giving Geoffrey the opportunity to exploit my moves.

    Geoffrey danced out of reach, his movements light and teasing, his grin unwavering. He wanted me to grow impatient, to lash out with everything I had.

    But if there was one thing I¡¯d learned in this life, it was patience.

    I reappeared behind Geoffrey, my hand landing firmly on his shoulder. The Soul Link embedded itself before he even had a chance to react¡ªor so I thought.

    This was the second time he countered me.

    His reflexes were monstrous.

    In a blur, he grabbed my wrist, twisted it with bone-crushing strength, and slammed me into the rocky ground. The earth beneath me cracked under the force, sending tremors through the terrain as my invisibility shattered like glass.

    The good news? His instantaneous magnified counterattack was now off the table.

    The bad news? Geoffrey wasn¡¯t the type to fold just because his ace was out of play.

    As I struggled to rise, my doll launched a ferocious assault, dual Soul Chains materializing in its hands like spectral weapons. The chains gleamed with an eerie light, their presence a clear indicator that the doll¡¯s disguise had fully dropped.

    The chains lashed out, spiraling toward Geoffrey with precision, only to pass through an afterimage.

    He was fast¡ªso fast that tracking his movements felt futile.

    I barely had time to breathe before I felt a pull on my cloak. Geoffrey had somehow closed the gap, yanking me back and slamming me into the earth again. Pain radiated through my body as the rough terrain bit into my skin.

    Before I could react, his boot came crashing down toward my skull, aiming to crush it like a melon.

    Instinct took over. I rolled, narrowly avoiding the stomp, and as I did, I left Soul Links on every patch of earth my hands grazed.

    Geoffrey wasn¡¯t letting up. He followed with relentless aggression, moving with such ferocity it felt like fighting a storm.

    I summoned Soul Chains in rapid succession from the Soul Links I¡¯d left on the ground, trying to slow him down. The chains snaked toward him, but each time, his form shimmered and dissolved into another afterimage.

    I struggled to read his movements. Whatever he was doing wasn¡¯t simple speed¡ªit felt like teleportation, a disorienting blend of skill and ability.

    When he was upon me again, his hand outstretched as if to grab me, I used Soul Castling, switching places with my doll in the blink of an eye.

    The doll lashed its chains in a wide arc, their whip-like strikes carving through the air. But Geoffrey vanished again, his afterimages taunting me.

    Sweat dripped down my face as I tried to keep up. Geoffrey¡¯s unpredictability was his greatest weapon. Each move felt like part of an intricate puzzle, designed to keep me off balance.

    I needed to find a way to break through his rhythm.

    And fast.

    ~50

 051 Counterpoint

    LI

    The air was razor-thin at this altitude, each breath feeling like a futile gasp as the mountain wind howled around us. My lungs burned, my muscles screamed, but Geoffrey¡¯s relentless assault left no room for respite.

    It was a brutal game of cat and mouse. I dodged, he pursued, and my doll danced between us, its spectral chains striking out in calculated precision. The terrain was unforgiving¡ªjagged rocks, uneven ground, and sheer cliffs that loomed as constant reminders of the danger we faced. The fight dragged on, each second heavier than the last, the weight of exhaustion pressing on my body and mind.

    Geoffrey¡¯s grin never wavered, his movements as fluid and confident as they had been at the start. He was relentless, his attacks an endless tide that sought to drown me. For hours, we played this deadly dance, neither of us willing to yield.

    As I evaded another strike, narrowly escaping the grip of his hand, my thoughts began to drift¡ªto the past, to the version of Geoffrey I had written into Hunterworks. Back then, he was nothing more than a throwaway villain, a minor character designed to showcase the protagonist¡¯s overwhelming strength. His death had been quick, his story a footnote in a larger narrative.

    But now, standing face to face with him, I realized just how incomplete my understanding of him had been. Geoffrey wasn¡¯t the simple antagonist I had created. He was complex, his abilities vast and terrifyingly cohesive in ways I hadn¡¯t anticipated.

    The Puzzle of Power

    Every Hunter¡¯s abilities were shaped by their Passion¡ªthe core drive or obsession that defined them. It was a unifying theme that tied their powers together, giving them structure and purpose. For me, it was strategy and manipulation, my ability to weave intricate plans and control the battlefield. For Geoffrey, though, his abilities seemed chaotic, disjointed.

    Teleportation. Afterimages. An instantaneous counterattack that could magnify and return damage tenfold. At first glance, these abilities felt like a patchwork of unrelated skills. But there had to be a thread that connected them¡ªa core that bound his powers into a cohesive whole.

    As I parried his next attack, forcing him to engage my doll instead, the question gnawed at me. What was Geoffrey¡¯s Passion? What drove him to possess abilities that defied conventional strategy?

    The Man Behind the Monster

    I took a moment to review what I knew about Geoffrey. He was a washed-up Hunter, a man living on the fringes of society, saddled with debts but clinging to one redeeming piece of his life¡ªhis daughter. That single fact painted a picture of a man who had once been different, perhaps even hopeful.

    But what kind of man had he been in his youth? What had shaped him into the person he was now?

    The absence of his wife loomed large in my mind. Whether she had left or died, the impact on Geoffrey would have been profound. If she had left, perhaps it bred resentment, a bitterness that fueled his recklessness. Or maybe he was still hopelessly in love, chasing after someone who had long since moved on. If she had died, perhaps he sought revenge, or maybe her loss left him hollow, focused solely on raising his daughter.

    These possibilities buzzed in my mind, each one plausible but none definitive.

    The Shift in Momentum

    My doll struck out with its chains, each lash carving through the air with deadly intent. Geoffrey dodged effortlessly, his afterimages taunting me. He moved like a phantom, his speed and precision making it nearly impossible to land a decisive blow.

    But something was different now. As the fight wore on, his movements began to feel less chaotic, more deliberate. Each step, each strike, seemed to follow an invisible rhythm, a pattern I couldn¡¯t quite grasp. It was as if he were playing a game¡ªa high-stakes gamble where every move was calculated, every risk weighed against the potential reward.

    A New Strategy

    With this realization, my approach shifted. I couldn¡¯t outmatch him in raw power or speed, but I could disrupt his rhythm, force him to make mistakes.

    I activated multiple Soul Links simultaneously, creating a web of chains that crisscrossed the battlefield. The chains lashed out in unpredictable patterns, cutting off his escape routes and limiting his mobility. At the same time, I used Soul Castling to swap places with my doll, keeping him guessing about my location.

    Geoffrey¡¯s grin faltered for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He was adapting, but so was I.

    The dance continued, but now the tempo was mine to set. As I pressed the attack, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a grim satisfaction. Geoffrey might be the ultimate gambler, but even the best players could lose when the odds were stacked against them.

    This fight wasn¡¯t over¡ªnot by a long shot.

    Geoffrey¡¯s annoyance was evident as he dodged the flurry of Soul Links snapping into existence. His movements were precise, his body weaving between the glowing strings like water flowing around rocks. Each dodge was effortless, almost playful, but I caught the subtle twitch in his expression. He was starting to feel the pressure.

    The strings weren¡¯t meant to hit him¡ªnot yet. They were a distraction, a way to corral him into a specific space on the battlefield. My doll moved in tandem with the strings, its chains lashing out with calculated precision. Each swing missed by a hair¡¯s breadth, but that was intentional. I wasn¡¯t trying to land a hit. Not yet.

    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± Geoffrey taunted, his voice dripping with confidence. ¡°I expected more from you.¡±

    I ignored his words, focusing instead on the rhythm of the battle. Geoffrey¡¯s counters relied on baiting his opponents into overcommitting, but his strength was also his weakness. He couldn¡¯t act first. His entire strategy was reactive, and I planned to exploit that to its fullest.

    The strings continued to fly, crisscrossing the battlefield in a web of glowing lines. Geoffrey dodged them all, his movements almost too fast to track. But every dodge brought him closer to the center of the web, where my doll waited like a predator lying in ambush.

    Geoffrey¡¯s grin widened as he noticed the pattern. ¡°Trying to box me in? You¡¯ll have to do better than that.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I will,¡± I replied, my voice calm and measured. ¡°But you¡¯re going to help me.¡±

    With a flick of my wrist, I snapped another Soul Link, sending a wave of strings converging on Geoffrey from all sides. He leapt into the air, his body twisting as he avoided the trap with an acrobatic display that would have been impressive if it weren¡¯t so predictable.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    As he landed, my doll lunged, its chains striking with blinding speed. Geoffrey countered instinctively, his body moving faster than thought as he deflected the attack. But this time, the chains weren¡¯t aiming for him¡ªthey were aiming for the strings.

    The chains wrapped around the glowing lines, pulling them taut and creating a shimmering net that surrounded Geoffrey on all sides. His eyes widened as he realized what had happened, but it was too late. The strings glowed brighter, their energy pulsating as they activated.

    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who can counter,¡± I said, a small smile playing on my lips.

    The strings exploded into motion, their energy surging toward Geoffrey in a wave of force. He tried to dodge, but the net tightened around him, leaving him with nowhere to go. His afterimages flickered as he attempted to escape, but each movement only tangled him further in the web.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± he snarled, his grin replaced by a look of frustration. He lashed out with a burst of energy, shattering the nearest strings, but the damage was done. The net had served its purpose.

    My doll moved in, its chains striking with relentless precision. Geoffrey blocked the first few attacks, his counters still sharp despite his predicament, but he was losing ground. Each strike pushed him closer to the edge of the battlefield, where the jagged cliffs loomed like the maw of a hungry beast.

    Geoffrey¡¯s breathing grew labored as the fight dragged on. His movements were still fast, but they lacked the fluidity they¡¯d had at the start. He was running out of steam, his counters becoming slower and less effective.

    I saw my opening and took it. Activating the Soul Links one final time, I unleashed a surge of energy that sent the remaining strings converging on Geoffrey. He tried to counter, his body moving in a blur as he deflected the attacks, but this time, he couldn¡¯t keep up.

    The strings wrapped around him, binding his arms and legs in a web of glowing energy. My doll stepped forward, its chains poised to strike the final blow.

    Geoffrey looked up at me, his grin returning despite his predicament. ¡°Well played,¡± he said, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. ¡°But don¡¯t think this means you¡¯ve won.¡±

    I nodded, acknowledging his words. ¡°It¡¯s not over until it¡¯s over,¡± I replied. ¡°But for now, I¡¯m in control.¡±

    With a final command, the doll¡¯s chains descended, their glowing edges cutting through the air with deadly precision. The battle was over¡ªbut the war was just beginning.

    Geoffrey ignored me at first, his attention entirely on my doll. He moved with his usual unsettling fluidity, dodging every strike the doll sent his way. The faintest flicker of irritation crossed his face when I whipped a Soul Chain from under my wrist, lashing it toward him with precision.

    He vanished before it could connect, reappearing at my flank in a blur.

    ¡°What are you playing at, you fool?¡± he sneered, his aura-charged fist barreling toward me. The air around his strike rippled with power, promising a world of pain if it connected.

    But it never did.

    Instead, Geoffrey was wrenched sideways, his momentum abruptly arrested and redirected ninety degrees. He staggered mid-motion, his expression a mix of shock and confusion.

    ¡°What the hell¡ª?!¡± he barked, spinning to face me.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smirk. The trick worked.

    It was a hastily cobbled-together Vector Path, imbued with a Homing attribute. Spot A was the space around me, and Spot B was my doll. The instant Geoffrey crossed into the area I¡¯d marked, the path engaged, redirecting him to my doll¡¯s position like a magnet snapping to metal.

    It wasn¡¯t elegant, and I doubted I¡¯d replicate it cleanly in the chaos of battle, but it had worked. That was all that mattered.

    Geoffrey recovered quickly, his wild grin returning as if nothing had happened. ¡°A new trick, huh? Not bad. But it won¡¯t save you.¡±

    He dashed toward me again, this time zigzagging unpredictably. The afterimages he left behind were dizzying, each one indistinguishable from the real him. My doll moved to intercept, chains whipping through the air, but every strike passed harmlessly through illusions.

    He¡¯s adapting.

    Fine. So would I.

    I snapped my fingers, activating the Soul Links I¡¯d planted across the battlefield. Glowing threads shot out from the ground, forming a lattice of crisscrossing chains that boxed Geoffrey in. He skidded to a halt, his grin faltering for the briefest moment.

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± he muttered, his tone half-annoyed, half-amused.

    The chains surged toward him, tightening the noose. Geoffrey blurred again, slipping past the first wave of restraints, but I wasn¡¯t done. I adjusted the Vector Path, shifting Spot B to the densest cluster of chains.

    The moment Geoffrey tried to teleport, the path engaged. He reappeared right in the middle of the trap, chains wrapping around his limbs like serpents.

    His grin vanished.

    ¡°You little¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not so fast,¡± I interrupted, pulling the chains taut. The glowing threads hummed with energy, each one reinforced with Soul energy to resist his attempts to break free.

    Geoffrey struggled, his muscles straining against the bindings. ¡°You think this is enough to stop me?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I admitted, ¡°but it¡¯s enough to buy me time.¡±

    I focused my energy, channeling it into the chains. They began to glow brighter, their ethereal light intensifying. Geoffrey¡¯s eyes narrowed, realizing too late what was happening.

    Soul Detonation.

    The chains erupted in a burst of spectral energy, the explosion engulfing Geoffrey in a blinding flash of light. The shockwave tore through the mountain air, kicking up a storm of dust and debris.

    I shielded my eyes, waiting for the dust to settle. When it did, Geoffrey stood there, battered but grinning.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± he said, his voice hoarse but filled with excitement. ¡°Not bad at all.¡±

    He staggered slightly, his movements slower than before. The explosion had done its job, wearing him down.

    But it wasn¡¯t over yet.

    ¡°Ready for round two?¡± I asked, my doll stepping forward, chains at the ready.

    Geoffrey laughed, wiping blood from his mouth. ¡°You¡¯re full of surprises, aren¡¯t you? Fine. Let¡¯s see how many tricks you¡¯ve got left.¡±

    I smiled back. ¡°There¡¯s more where that came from.¡±

    Geoffrey blurred in motion, his form a smudge of speed as he tried to recover.

    But my doll was ready. Its spectral chains shimmered in the thin mountain air, glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light. With calculated precision, it lashed out in a brutal one-two combination.

    The first strike drove into Geoffrey¡¯s kidney, a punishing blow that sent him lurching sideways. The second followed immediately¡ªa crushing strike to his face that sent blood splattering across the rocky terrain.

    Geoffrey staggered, his wild grin faltering for the first time. His knees buckled slightly, his balance unsteady. He hadn¡¯t expected to be struck mid-counter.

    Dealer-types like us had strict rules governing our abilities¡ªrules that defined the boundaries of our powers and punished those who overstepped. Geoffrey had gambled, relying on his counter to save him, but he had miscalculated.

    And now he was paying the price.

    I watched as he swayed, struggling to stay upright. Blood dripped from his nose, a crimson trail painting the ground beneath him. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he fought to recover.

    President Bob¡¯s booming voice broke the tense silence, reverberating through the mountain air.

    ¡°We have our first winner from the Final 16! Give a round of applause for Reynard Bright!¡±

    The announcement was met with a thunderous wave of clapping and cheers from the invisibble audience, the sound echoing off the jagged peaks. But I didn¡¯t bask in the glory. My mind was already moving ahead, analyzing, strategizing.

    There were more fights to come.

    As Geoffrey collapsed to his knees, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, I approached cautiously. The fight was over, but I wasn¡¯t about to let my guard down.

    ¡°You fought well,¡± I said, my tone even.

    Geoffrey chuckled weakly, his voice hoarse. ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me, kid. You won fair and square.¡±

    He raised his head, meeting my gaze. Despite the blood and exhaustion etched into his features, his grin returned¡ªa shadow of its former self but no less defiant.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to me. ¡°Next time, I won¡¯t hold back.¡±

    Such a sore loser¡­ As Geoffrey was teleported out of the arena, I turned my attention to the sky. The tournament wasn¡¯t just about strength¡ªit was a test of endurance, strategy, and adaptability. I couldn¡¯t afford to rest on this victory.

    The mountain began to shift, the jagged terrain dissolving into particles of light as the arena reset itself. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

    ~051

 052 Dance of Chains & Spears

    LII

    Selena¡¯s unexpected victory against Black had left me intrigued. From what I knew of Black, he wasn¡¯t the type to back down easily. His reputation was built on sheer tenacity and raw power, yet he¡¯d made his intentions clear. By forfeiting, he¡¯d secured the golden pass and become the first to leave the tower.

    Say what you will about him¡ªBlack knew his priorities.

    As for me, the road ahead was far less forgiving. Depending on how far I advanced, I¡¯d be fighting seven or eight matches in total. Four battles down, each one more grueling than the last, and now the brackets had paired me against Shen¡ªthe so-called Spear God.

    I spent the night preparing. Meditation helped calm my nerves and center my focus, but it did little to ease the growing tension in my chest. The doll lay before me, battered but still intact, a silent witness to the fight against Geoffrey. Repairing it was painstaking work, slower without the Doll attribute, but my Puppetry attribute would have to suffice.

    As I tightened its joints and reinforced the chains, my thoughts drifted to Shen. His title wasn¡¯t just for show¡ªhis martial prowess was legendary, a culmination of precision, power, and years of mastery. Unlike Geoffrey, Shen didn¡¯t rely on tricks or counters. He was a force of nature, direct and overwhelming.

    Facing him head-on would be suicide.

    I frowned, testing the tensile strength of the doll¡¯s chains. My usual strategy¡ªusing invisibility to stay hidden while the doll carried out the fight¡ªwas no longer viable. Geoffrey had forced me to play my hand, and now my tactics were an open book. Shen would be ready for them.

    That left me with a daunting question: how could I win?

    I let my mind wander as I worked, running my hands over the doll¡¯s newly repaired joints. Shen wasn¡¯t just a warrior; he was a strategist. If I tried to outmatch him in direct combat, I¡¯d lose before the fight even began. No, I needed something unexpected.

    Adapt, transform, overcome.

    The mantra played on repeat in my head. Shen may have been the Spear God, but gods could still bleed. I just needed to find the right way to draw that first drop.

    By the time dawn broke, I¡¯d made my decision. My invisibility cloak¡ªthe frilly, ornate thing I¡¯d relied on for so many battles¡ªwas now a liability. Its usefulness had run its course. I handed it over to Selena before the next match.

    ¡°You¡¯ll make better use of this than I ever could,¡± I said, watching as she examined it with a curious smile.

    ¡°You sure about this?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Positive.¡± My tone was firm. ¡°Hiding isn¡¯t going to work anymore. Not against Shen.¡±

    Selena nodded, slipping the cloak over her shoulders. ¡°Good luck, Reynard. You¡¯ll need it.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond, but her words hung heavy in the air.

    As I stepped into the arena, the weight of the coming battle pressed down on me. The terrain had been transformed into a sprawling, barren plain, offering no cover and no advantages. Shen was already waiting, his spear gleaming under the artificial sunlight.

    He gave me a small nod, his expression calm but focused. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking forward to this,¡± he said, his voice carrying an air of finality.

    ¡°Likewise,¡± I replied, though my stomach churned.

    The match began, and Shen¡¯s spear twirled in his hands, a blur of deadly motion. I tightened my grip on the doll¡¯s chains, my mind racing. This wasn¡¯t going to be easy, but I¡¯d come prepared.

    Gods could bleed.

    And I was about to prove it.

    For the rest of the night, I threw myself into refining my Homing attribute. It had always been an odd skill, one I¡¯d only begun to understand during my fight with Geoffrey.

    The more I experimented with it, the more peculiar its quirks became.

    For one, it only worked on organics.

    But what about Gerry?

    I was fairly certain he was able to apply his homing ability to his bullets. Perhaps, my research of the attribute was incomplete.

    You¡¯d think something named ¡°Homing¡± would apply to anything¡ªmissiles, arrows, maybe even a thrown rock. But here, it meant something entirely different. My curiosity got the better of me, so I rummaged through the cabinet in my room until I found an old dictionary.

    Homing (noun): The natural instinct of certain animals to return to a specific place or territory after traveling far away.

    I stared at the definition for a long moment, the weight of it settling in. It wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d expected, but it made a certain kind of sense. In this world, words weren¡¯t just words¡ªthey carried profound weight, shaping the very essence of abilities and attributes. A single word could be interpreted in infinite ways, each unlocking new potential depending on the user¡¯s perspective.

    The realization brought clarity. My Homing wasn¡¯t about targeting objects; it was about guiding organic matter back to its source¡ªor to a designated destination. The potential implications were staggering, but I didn¡¯t have time to fully explore them.

    Morning arrived before I knew it, the faint hum of vending machines pulling me out of my thoughts. Bacon and eggs, washed down with lukewarm coffee, were enough to fuel me. The meal was bland, but it did the job.

    By the time I¡¯d finished, my loadout for the next fight was finalized: Connection, Puppetry, and Homing.

    When the time came, I was engulfed in a flash of light and transported to the arena.

    This time, the battleground was a forest¡ªdense and sprawling, with towering trees that blotted out most of the sunlight. Shadows danced across the mossy floor, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. It was a stark contrast to the barren plains where I¡¯d faced Geoffrey.

    Across from me stood Shen.

    The so-called Spear God looked as calm and composed as ever, his dark hair tied into a neat ponytail. His spear rested lightly in his hands, its tip gleaming faintly even in the dim light. He exuded an aura of quiet intensity, his piercing eyes fixed on me as if calculating every possible move I could make.

    For once, my doll had been teleported alongside me. Its joints creaked softly as it shifted in place, the faint glow of its reinforced chains a stark contrast to the muted colors of the forest.

    A faint hum of energy enveloped us both¡ªthe same aura that had accompanied every match so far. It served as a reminder: no starting until the referee gave the go-ahead.

    Shen tilted his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. ¡°You¡¯re the one who fought Geoffrey,¡± he said, his voice low but steady. ¡°Impressive work.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

    He nodded, his grip on the spear tightening ever so slightly. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking forward to this.¡±

    A familiar glowing holographic figure appeared between us, the exaggerated bald head of President Bob looming large in the space between.

    ¡°Okay! So tense!¡± Bob¡¯s booming voice echoed through the arena, his tone dripping with excitement. ¡°No need for any hyping¡­ Spear God Shen! VERSUS! King of Favors Reynard!¡±

    I groaned inwardly. King of Favors? Since when did that nickname start making the rounds?

    But there was no time to dwell on Bob¡¯s theatrics. Shen moved faster than the thought could finish forming in my head.

    His spear came within a hair¡¯s breadth of my neck, the sheer pressure of his aura wrapped around the blade sending chills down my spine. But I wasn¡¯t about to let him have his way.

    With a flicker of thought, I activated the Homing attribute linked between me and my doll.

    Spot A: where I stood.

    Spot B: where the doll loomed a short distance away.

    The world tilted as I was yanked through the Vector Path I had created. Before Shen¡¯s spear could meet my throat, I swapped places with the doll, putting me safely behind it and out of reach while my puppet moved into action.

    Shen didn¡¯t miss a beat. His sharp eyes caught the sudden shift, and he pivoted smoothly, destroying the Soul Mark I had left behind with a precise stomp.

    But in doing so, he hadn¡¯t accounted for the trap I had laid.

    The doll, now positioned a heartbeat away, swung its chains.

    Unlike before, the chains weren¡¯t just manifestations of aura¡ªthey were reinforced with solid metal, their heavy links clanging ominously. I¡¯d managed to snag the material from the Vending Machine¡¯s bizarre inventory system. It wasn¡¯t the most orthodox way to source gear, but it worked wonders.

    Shen shifted his spear to deflect the incoming attack. But this time, he wasn¡¯t fast enough.

    One of the chains wrapped around his ankle, its cold, metallic grip biting into his flesh. His foot faltered, his legendary fluid movement disrupted.

    I grinned.

    Before Shen could tear the chains away, I activated the Soul Chains embedded in the marked aura he had just stepped beneath his boot. Shadowy blue tendrils of energy erupted from the ground, coiling tightly around him.

    Shen¡¯s calm facade cracked ever so slightly as he struggled against the bindings. He twisted his spear, preparing to cut through the chains in one decisive move.

    But the doll was already advancing, fists wrapped in those same gleaming chains, ready to deliver a crushing blow.

    Shen¡¯s movements were a flurry of precision and strength, but this time, I had the upper hand. Each link of the chains wrapped around him shimmered with the Homing attribute, creating a seamless trajectory.

    I wasn¡¯t just binding him¡ªI was constructing the framework for something far more devastating.

    Two glowing rails of aura stretched out, parallel and crackling with energy, framing Shen perfectly in the center. The doll stood poised at one end as my aura coursed through its frame, arcing like untamed lightning.

    It was ingenuity in motion.

    I smirked and extended my hand. ¡°Take flight.¡±

    Names had power in this world, and I wasn¡¯t shy about giving my creations their due. I let the words ring with conviction.

    ¡°Soul Gear: Railgun.¡±

    The chains shivered as the doll was pulled taut between the rails, its body glowing faintly with the blue arcs of aura that surged through it.

    For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

    Then, in a burst of light and a deafening crack, the doll was launched forward like a streaking projectile.

    The rails stabilized its trajectory, the Homing attribute ensuring that its flight remained unwavering. Its legs outstretched, feet pointed like twin spears, the doll shot toward Shen with the ferocity of a plasma discharge.

    The air warped and sizzled around it as it closed the distance, an unstoppable force barreling down on the so-called Spear God. Shen¡¯s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a rare break in his stoic composure.

    And then, the impact came.

    The collision was deafening, a shockwave rippling outward and shaking the forest. The doll¡¯s momentum drove Shen backward, slamming him into a massive tree with enough force to splinter its trunk.

    For a heartbeat, everything was still.

    Shen¡¯s spear fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he slumped against the shattered remains of the tree. His breath came in ragged gasps, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

    I stood a short distance away, chest heaving as I struggled to steady myself. The toll of maintaining Soul Gear: Railgun was heavier than I¡¯d anticipated, but it was worth it.

    The doll loomed over Shen, its chains coiling and uncoiling like restless serpents. I called it back with a flick of my wrist, the chains retracting as the puppet returned to my side.

    Shen raised his head, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but instead, he let out a soft chuckle.

    ¡°Try again,¡± he murmured, his voice hoarse but laced with pride.

    There was a reason Shen bore the title of Spear God. His mastery wasn¡¯t just skill¡ªit was artistry, a symphony of motion honed to perfection. Even at his young age, his genius had already carved itself into legend.

    Within the first millisecond of impact, the Soul Chains binding his foot were obliterated, their shimmering links disintegrating like brittle glass under the surgical precision of his strike.

    In the next millisecond, Shen moved.

    His spear, enveloped in a fiery aura of red and orange hues, swung with an elegance that seemed to defy reality. It wasn¡¯t brute force¡ªit was deliberate, calculated. The weapon met my doll mid-flight, parrying its projectile momentum with what should have been impossible precision.

    The collision sent shockwaves through the air, crackling energy rippling outward as if the forest itself recoiled from the clash. The towering trees groaned under the strain, their leaves trembling as the ground beneath us quaked.

    Despite the parry, the doll wasn¡¯t unscathed. It tumbled through the air, its metallic frame striking the ground behind Shen with a heavy thud. It lay there momentarily inert, a lifeless heap stripped of its menace.

    Shen¡¯s stance faltered for the first time. His aura flickered unevenly, the aftershocks of our exchange taking their toll. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing came in shallow gasps. He was human after all.

    I couldn¡¯t let this chance slip away.

    ¡°Soul Chains: Entwine!¡±

    I thrust my hand forward, channeling what little aura I had left into the ground. From the shadows, ethereal tendrils erupted, twisting and snaking toward Shen¡¯s feet. They weren¡¯t as strong as the chains I¡¯d used before, but they didn¡¯t need to be.

    Shen reacted instantly, his spear carving an arc of fiery light as he slashed through the tendrils. Yet, for every chain he severed, another rose in its place. They weren¡¯t meant to bind him¡ªthey were meant to distract.

    The doll stirred behind him.

    With a single mental command, I activated the Homing attribute once more. Spot A: where the doll lay. Spot B: Shen¡¯s unguarded flank.

    Like a magnet, Shen flew to the doll.

    Meanwhile, the doll lunged forward like a reanimated corpse, its movements jerky but purposeful. Its chains whirled in the air, their metallic links glowing faintly as they arced toward Shen.

    ¡°Predictable,¡± Shen muttered under his breath.

    He sidestepped the attack with fluid grace, his spear darting toward the doll¡¯s core. But this time, I was ready.

    ¡°Soul Gear: Deflection!¡±

    The chains shifted mid-swing, redirecting themselves with a sharp, unnatural turn. They coiled around Shen¡¯s spear, their glowing links tightening like a vice. For a moment, his weapon was locked in place, its fiery aura dimming as the chains absorbed the brunt of its energy.

    ¡°Got you,¡± I whispered.

    From the doll¡¯s outstretched hand, a burst of blue light erupted¡ªa concentrated pulse of energy that shot toward Shen¡¯s chest.

    But the Spear God wasn¡¯t done yet.

    Shen released his grip on the spear, letting it fall as he twisted his body with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. The energy pulse grazed his side, scorching his uniform but missing its mark.

    He caught the falling spear mid-spin, its tip igniting with renewed fire as he aimed it at me.

    ¡°Enough of this.¡±

    The spear shot forward like a blazing comet, its trajectory unerring. I barely had time to react, activating the Homing attribute once more. Spot A: my current position. Spot B: a tree a few meters away.

    The world tilted as I was yanked through the Vector Path, the spear tearing through the space I¡¯d just occupied. It embedded itself in the tree with a deafening crack, flames licking at the bark.

    ¡°You¡¯re fast,¡± Shen admitted, his voice calm despite the strain in his expression. ¡°But not fast enough.¡±

    I smirked, wiping the sweat from my brow. ¡°Funny. I was about to say the same thing.¡±

    The doll moved again, this time slower, its frame battered but still functional. Its chains dragged behind it, sparking faintly as they scraped against the ground.

    Shen¡¯s eyes narrowed. He was running out of patience¡ªand aura.

    So was I.

    The battle had become a game of endurance, a test of who would falter first. Shen¡¯s movements were still precise, but the slight delay in his reactions was impossible to miss. My doll¡¯s attacks were slower, less forceful, but I didn¡¯t need power anymore. I needed an opening.

    And I saw it.

    As Shen lunged toward the doll, his spear carving through the air in a fiery arc, I activated the final Soul Chain. It erupted from the ground beneath him, its glowing tendrils wrapping around his legs.

    Shen stumbled, his balance momentarily broken.

    The doll seized the opportunity, its chains snapping forward to entangle his arms.

    ¡°Soul Detonation!¡±

    The chains shimmered with energy, their glowing links vibrating as the aura within them reached critical mass.

    ¡°Yield,¡± I said, my voice steady despite the exhaustion clawing at me.

    For a moment, Shen struggled against the bindings, his aura flaring in defiance. Then, with a weary sigh, he let his spear fall to the ground.

    The forest fell silent, the tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

    ¡°No,¡± said Shen as he swung his spear from below like a snake. ¡°Let¡¯s fight to the death!¡±

    ~052

 053 Soul Chain vs. Heavenly Spear

    LIII

    Shen¡¯s movement was terrifying in its simplicity. He didn¡¯t waste time with unnecessary flourishes or theatrics; every step, every shift of his weight, was deliberate and exact. One moment he was standing before me, and in the next, he was gone.

    It wasn¡¯t teleportation¡ªit was raw speed. My eyes struggled to follow his form, my senses scrambling to keep pace with the Spear God.

    ¡°It is my turn,¡± Shen had said.

    And now, he made good on that promise.

    The first strike came faster than I could react. His spear tip grazed the side of my doll, leaving a thin, glowing line in its wake. The aura radiating from the spear wasn¡¯t just for show¡ªit was a searing force, leaving scorch marks wherever it touched.

    I yanked the doll backward, activating the Homing attribute to pull it toward me. The chains coiled around its arms rattled as I recalibrated, but Shen was already on the move again.

    He was relentless. A second strike followed, this one aimed directly at me. My instincts screamed, and I barely managed to dodge by shifting my position using a Vector Path. I stumbled as I landed, my chest heaving.

    This wasn¡¯t working.

    Shen¡¯s mastery over his ability was staggering. His spear moved as if it had a mind of its own, each thrust, swing, and feint perfectly calculated to leave no room for error. And worse, his aura was growing stronger.

    The Spear God ability wasn¡¯t just about wielding a spear¡ªit was about dominating with it. Every moment he fought, his precision and power amplified. The longer this battle dragged on, the slimmer my chances of winning became.

    I needed to end this quickly.

    I reached out with my Connection attribute, tethering the doll¡¯s chains to a nearby tree. The shimmering links glowed faintly as I wove a web of paths, creating a makeshift battlefield where I controlled the terrain.

    Shen noticed immediately. His eyes flicked toward the chains, narrowing slightly.

    ¡°You think tricks will save you?¡± he asked, his tone calm but laced with steel.

    I didn¡¯t answer. Words wouldn¡¯t stop him, but maybe the right strategy could.

    The doll surged forward, its chains snapping taut as it used the anchored web to propel itself. Shen met the assault head-on, his spear spinning in a defensive arc. The collision of chains and aura rang out like a thunderclap, the shockwave scattering leaves and dirt in all directions.

    But I wasn¡¯t finished.

    Using the Homing attribute, I directed the chains to converge on Shen from multiple angles. Apparently, my aura was considered organic, thus they ¡®homing¡¯ somehow worked on them. The doll danced around him, its movements erratic and unpredictable, each strike designed to force him into a corner.

    Shen, however, wasn¡¯t so easily cornered.

    He parried one chain, sidestepped another, and used the momentum of his movements to counter with devastating efficiency. His spear lashed out, severing one of the chains in a single blow.

    ¡°Is this all you¡¯ve got?¡± Shen¡¯s voice carried over the chaos.

    No. It wasn¡¯t.

    The severed chain retracted, its broken end glowing faintly. I activated a hidden function I¡¯d built into it¡ªan energy pulse stored within the links. The chain exploded in a burst of blue light, catching Shen off guard.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to injure him, but it was enough to create an opening.

    The doll lunged, its fists glowing with aura. Shen reacted with inhuman speed, his spear spinning in a defensive blur. But this time, I didn¡¯t aim for him directly.

    The doll¡¯s attack was a feint.

    The real strike came from the chains still anchored to the tree. I pulled on them with all the force I could muster, creating a whip-like motion that sent the chains hurtling toward Shen¡¯s blind spot.

    For a moment, I thought I had him.

    But then Shen did something I hadn¡¯t anticipated.

    He let go of his spear.

    The weapon spun in midair, guided by his aura, intercepting the chains before they could connect. At the same time, Shen closed the distance between us with terrifying speed, his hands now free to strike directly.

    I barely had time to react as he drove a fist toward my chest.

    Pain exploded through my body as I was thrown backward, skidding across the forest floor. The doll moved to intercept him, but Shen caught it mid-charge, gripping its arm and using its momentum to hurl it into a nearby tree.

    ¡°You rely too much on your tricks,¡± Shen said, his voice steady.

    I coughed, struggling to push myself to my feet. My vision blurred for a moment, but I forced myself to focus.

    Tricks? Maybe. But tricks were all I had.

    I reached out with my Connection attribute, linking myself to the doll once more. My aura surged, feeding into the chains and the doll¡¯s core.

    If Shen wanted to see all my tricks, then I¡¯d show him.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you handle this,¡± I muttered, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

    As if magic, Shen¡¯s spear flew to him and he caught it mid-air, while performing a backflip.

    ¡°Heavenly Spear.¡±

    The words left Shen¡¯s lips with a resonance that seemed to ripple through the air. The aura around him flared to life, fiery red and orange streaked with icy blue, the sheer intensity of it pressing against my skin like a physical force.

    The tip of his spear gleamed as it hurtled toward me, a blur of deadly precision. Time seemed to stretch, every second drawn out into an eternity as my mind raced.

    Too fast. Too precise. Too deadly.

    But not unstoppable.

    ¡°Soul Chain.¡±

    My voice was steady as I called out the name of my counter.

    The world snapped back into focus, and the chains I¡¯d planted earlier came alive. During our last exchange¡ªwhen my foot had grazed his throat in a desperate gamble¡ªI had used that brief contact to mark his spear with a fragment of my aura.

    It had been a gamble, one that required precision and a bit of luck. But it worked.

    The chains erupted from thin air, shimmering with ethereal energy as they coiled around the spear. Like a serpent constricting its prey, they wrapped tightly, winding up the shaft and latching onto Shen¡¯s wrist, elbow, and forearm.

    The effect was immediate.

    Shen¡¯s fluid movements faltered, the momentum of his attack disrupted as the chains tightened. His spear, once an extension of his will, now felt heavy and unresponsive in his grip.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    I didn¡¯t wait to see how he¡¯d respond.

    With a burst of effort, I dove to the side, rolling out of the lethal trajectory of his attack. The spear¡¯s tip missed me by inches, the rush of air from its passage brushing against my cheek like a whisper of death.

    Shen stumbled forward, his stance broken as he tried to wrestle free of the chains.

    For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of our labored breaths.

    His eyes met mine, burning with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.

    ¡°Clever,¡± he said, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°But not enough.¡±

    The chains around his arm began to glow faintly, cracks appearing along their surface as his aura surged. The raw power radiating from him was overwhelming, and I knew it wouldn¡¯t take long for him to break free.

    But that was fine.

    The Soul Chain wasn¡¯t meant to hold him forever¡ªit was a delay, a distraction, a setup for the next move.

    The doll moved into position, its chains rattling as it advanced on Shen from behind. I manipulated the Vector Path, creating a web of trajectories to box him in.

    Shen noticed the shift, his sharp eyes darting between me and the doll.

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to trap me,¡± he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

    ¡°Not trying,¡± I replied. ¡°Succeeding.¡±

    The doll¡¯s chains shot forward, aiming for Shen¡¯s exposed flank. At the same time, I pulled on the Soul Chains still binding his arm, forcing him to pivot. His movements were sharp, precise, but constrained by the overlapping layers of control I had imposed.

    For the first time, Shen looked¡­ pressured.

    But even under pressure, he was the Spear God.

    With a roar, he channeled his aura into the spear, shattering the Soul Chains in a burst of energy. The force of it sent a shockwave through the arena, the ground cracking beneath his feet.

    The doll lunged, its fists glowing with energy, but Shen countered with a swift spin of his spear, deflecting the attack and sending the doll reeling.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need more than tricks to beat me,¡± he said, his voice steady despite the strain.

    I gritted my teeth, my mind racing. He was right¡ªtricks alone wouldn¡¯t be enough.

    But I wasn¡¯t out of tricks just yet.

    Reactivating the Vector Path, I shifted the doll¡¯s position, pulling it out of Shen¡¯s reach and placing it directly above him. The chains it carried snapped taut, creating a web of shimmering energy that descended like a net.

    Shen looked up, his eyes narrowing as he realized what was happening.

    ¡°This again?¡± he muttered, preparing to cut through the chains.

    But I wasn¡¯t aiming to bind him this time.

    ¡°Not a trap,¡± I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. ¡°A hammer.¡±

    Evem I wasn¡¯t confident the doll could take a second Railgun.

    The doll descended with the force of a falling meteor, its chains glowing with concentrated aura. Shen braced himself, his spear raised to block the impact.

    The collision shook the forest, the ground beneath us quaking as the doll¡¯s weight and aura crashed against Shen¡¯s defenses.

    For a moment, it seemed like he might hold.

    But then the chains I had laced into the doll¡¯s fists activated, releasing a pulse of energy directly into Shen¡¯s spear. The feedback was immediate, his aura flickering as the force pushed him back, his stance finally breaking.

    He stumbled, his spear dipping as he fought to regain control.

    And in that split second, I struck.

    The doll¡¯s chains coiled around Shen¡¯s spear, pulling it from his grasp and sending it flying into the air. Shen¡¯s eyes widened in shock, the first crack in his composure since the fight began.

    I didn¡¯t hesitate.

    ¡°Checkmate,¡± I said, activating the Homing attribute to guide the doll¡¯s next attack.

    The doll lunged forward, its glowing fists aimed squarely at Shen¡¯s chest.

    Every fight in this tower had been a crucible, each match forging me sharper, harder, more resilient. The fear of loss, once an ever-present weight, had pushed me to refine every move, every tactic, every skill.

    But now, standing across from Shen, the Spear God, that fear was gone.

    For the first time, I wasn¡¯t afraid of losing.

    Perhaps it was arrogance, born of the strength I¡¯d gained. Or maybe it was the clarity of understanding my worth as a fighter. Whatever it was, I knew one thing: I couldn¡¯t afford to falter.

    Shen snarled as he tore apart the remnants of my Soul Chain, his aura flaring with fiery intensity. The effort had thrown off his rhythm, his movements just a fraction slower, his precision slightly less razor-sharp.

    It was enough of a crack for me to exploit.

    Or so I thought.

    The doll lunged forward, its chain-wrapped fist crashing down with force that split the ground beneath it.

    But it struck nothing.

    An afterimage shimmered in its place, and my stomach sank. Shen had become so fast that he could leave afterimages.

    The real Shen materialized beside me, his spear already thrusting toward my side.

    I barely managed to react, twisting my body as I poured my aura into a desperate command.

    ¡°Soul Castling!¡±

    The world tilted. My vision flickered.

    In an instant, I was gone.

    When I reappeared, my doll stood in my place, intercepting Shen¡¯s spear. The weapon struck the doll¡¯s chest with a metallic clang, its chains wrapping around the spear¡¯s shaft to prevent a follow-up attack.

    This was Soul Castling, the culmination of my efforts to combine my Homing attribute with the principles of Soul Link under pressure. It allowed me to switch places with my doll at will, turning my body and the puppet into interchangeable pieces on the battlefield.

    Of course, the technique wasn¡¯t without its limits. I could only maintain one active connection at a time, meaning the timing and positioning had to be perfect.

    But the payoff was worth it.

    Shen¡¯s eyes narrowed as he pulled back, his spear disengaging from the doll¡¯s grip. He didn¡¯t speak, but his stance shifted slightly, betraying a moment of hesitation.

    He hadn¡¯t expected me to escape so cleanly.

    The doll, now in my former position, advanced on Shen with relentless aggression. Its chains snapped forward like vipers, each strike forcing Shen to backpedal.

    But Shen was still the Spear God.

    He sidestepped one chain, parried another, and countered with a sweeping arc of his spear. The doll¡¯s left arm crumpled under the force of the strike, its metallic frame sparking as it staggered back.

    ¡°Your tricks won¡¯t work forever,¡± Shen said, his voice cold and unwavering.

    ¡°They don¡¯t need to,¡± I replied, my hands weaving a complex pattern of gestures as I directed the doll¡¯s movements.

    Shen lunged again, his spear a blur of motion. This time, he aimed not at the doll but at me directly, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

    I braced myself, ready to castling again if necessary, but Shen feinted at the last moment. His spear arced downward, slamming into the ground between me and the doll.

    The force of the impact sent a shockwave rippling through the arena, uprooting the ground and sending debris flying.

    I was thrown off balance, my footing slipping as Shen pressed his advantage.

    He closed the gap in an instant, his spear aimed for my chest.

    But I wasn¡¯t out of tricks yet.

    ¡°Soul Castling!¡±

    The world shifted again, and I was gone.

    This time, I reappeared directly behind Shen, my doll taking the brunt of his attack. Before he could react, I unleashed a burst of aura, sending a chain snapping toward his unguarded back.

    Shen twisted, his spear moving with impossible speed to deflect the chain, but the maneuver cost him his balance. He stumbled, just slightly, and that was all I needed.

    The doll surged forward, its remaining arm swinging in a wide arc. Shen blocked it with his spear, but the force of the impact drove him back, his feet skidding across the ground.

    For the first time, Shen looked rattled.

    I smirked, my confidence growing with each passing second.

    ¡°You were saying?¡± I taunted, the words escaping before I could stop myself.

    Shen¡¯s eyes narrowed, his aura flaring brighter than ever.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± he said, his voice low and dangerous.

    ¡°No,¡± I replied, readying myself for the next exchange. ¡°It¡¯s over.¡±

    Shen''s spear darted forward like a striking serpent, the air around it shimmering with raw energy. But it met only empty space as my doll intercepted the strike, its chain-wrapped limbs moving with mechanical precision. The spear''s tip glanced harmlessly off the doll''s reinforced frame, missing its mark entirely.

    I used the distraction to retreat deeper into the forest. This wasn¡¯t an act of cowardice¡ªit was strategy.

    Shen was powerful, undeniably so, but no one was invincible. I¡¯d spent the entire fight studying him, cataloging every movement, every flaw, and every sign of fatigue. The Spear God might have been an overwhelming force at the start, but even he had limits.

    And now, I was going to push him past them.

    The forest wrapped around me like a cocoon, its dense foliage obscuring my position. I crouched low, controlling my breathing to remain undetected. Above the rustle of leaves, I could hear Shen¡¯s labored breaths. The fiery brilliance of his aura had dimmed significantly, its once-blinding reds, oranges, and blues now a faint, flickering glow.

    He was running on fumes.

    This was my checkmate.

    The forest fell eerily silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Shen¡¯s footsteps crunched against the underbrush as he staggered forward, spear in hand. His strikes, once so precise and devastating, were faltering, each one slower than the last.

    Meanwhile, my doll continued its relentless assault, its aura burning brighter as it matched Shen¡¯s every move. I had meticulously equalized their aura levels, a calculated gamble that now bore fruit. Shen¡¯s every parry and counter drained him further, his legendary precision unraveling with each clash.

    Then it happened.

    Shen faltered, his spear hanging loosely in his grip as he struggled to catch his breath. For the first time, the Spear God looked vulnerable.

    My doll didn¡¯t hesitate.

    It lunged forward, its chains clattering ominously as it closed the distance. Shen raised his spear in a desperate attempt to block, but his sluggish movements couldn¡¯t keep up.

    The doll¡¯s fist, charged with every ounce of its remaining aura, tore clean through Shen¡¯s chest. The sound of shattering energy echoed through the forest as Shen¡¯s aura crumbled like broken glass.

    Shen¡¯s eyes widened in shock, his body swaying before crumpling to the ground. The once-mighty Spear God lay defeated, his spear slipping from his grasp and landing with a dull thud.

    The forest seemed to exhale, the oppressive tension lifting as the fight came to an end.

    Above us, the holographic figure of President Bob materialized, his exaggerated bald head glowing with dramatic flair.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen!¡± Bob¡¯s booming voice thundered across the battlefield. ¡°We have our victor! Reynard Bright advances to the semi-finals!¡±

    The announcement sent a surge of relief through me. My chest heaved as I let out a long breath, the weight of the battle finally catching up to me.

    This was it.

    I had survived the Final 8. I had claimed victory in my fifth match.

    And now, I was one step closer to the ultimate prize.

    ~053

 054 Counter Attack

    LIV

    "Ah~! Better time than any to chill¡­"

    I leaned back in my chair with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and let my eyes drift to the screen before me. Selena''s match unfolded in real-time, the vivid display pulling me into the action.

    Her opponent was a Maker-type hunter who wielded an aerodynamic surfboard like a weapon. It wasn¡¯t just for show; the contraption hovered and darted through the air with predatory grace, its razor-sharp edges gleaming menacingly. With every swing, it sliced through the air like a blade, while the hunter himself moved as if born to ride it.

    The camerawork was immaculate. Each angle, each dramatic cut, perfectly captured the intensity of the battle. The lens zoomed in on Selena as she moved, her expression a calm mask of focus, her steps light and precise. Then it shifted to her opponent, flipping his board mid-air to parry her attacks.

    I took a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter warmth as I admired the fight. Whoever was behind the camera knew their craft well. The way they highlighted each critical moment¡ªthe split-second decisions, the near-misses¡ªit was almost too perfect, as if the battle had been choreographed for maximum effect.

    A frown crept onto my face as my thoughts wandered. How are they doing this?

    During my fight with Shen, I hadn¡¯t noticed any drones, hidden operators, or even a single flicker of surveillance tech. It had felt like the forest was empty, the fight contained to just us. So where were these impeccable shots coming from? Invisible cameramen? Advanced tech? Or was it something more¡­ esoteric?

    I shook the thought off for now, returning my attention to the screen.

    Selena was gaining ground. Her relentless offense was forcing her opponent onto the defensive. The surfboard-wielding hunter, for all his precision and flair, was beginning to falter.

    I leaned back, my gaze drifting momentarily to the ceiling. The fight reminded me of my own shortcomings. My techniques, while effective, were a patchwork¡ªdisjointed and chaotic. Every victory I¡¯d claimed so far felt like a scramble, piecing together whatever worked in the moment.

    But now, with the Homing attribute, I felt a flicker of hope. It wasn¡¯t just a tool¡ªit was the key to building flow where before there had only been disorder. The potential to chain moves, to create something cohesive, was finally within reach.

    Still, I had a long way to go. My aura reserves were limited, and I¡¯d barely begun to address the issue. Using my doll or other Maker artifacts as auxiliary batteries seemed like the most viable solution for now. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was progress.

    Selena¡¯s sharp voice jolted me from my thoughts.

    ¡°Is that all you got, sleazebag?¡±

    I glanced back at the screen. Selena was relentless, her movements weaving through her opponent¡¯s attacks like she was a ghost. The cloak I¡¯d given her amplified her speed and added a layer of invisibility, leaving behind afterimages that blurred the line between reality and illusion.

    The resemblance to Geoffrey¡¯s technique was unmistakable, but Selena brought her own flair. Where Geoffrey reacted, Selena overwhelmed. Her precision, combined with sheer agility, made her a force of nature.

    Watching her, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of pride. She was using the cloak in ways I hadn¡¯t even considered, pushing its limits and making it her own.

    Then, an unsettling thought crept in: If this is being broadcast¡­ Leora must be watching.

    A pang of unease settled in my chest. I could picture her face, her wide, worried eyes as she saw me fighting, saw the risks I¡¯d taken, the close calls that could have ended me.

    I sighed, the weight of it pressing down on me.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather she didn¡¯t watch,¡± I muttered to myself. The idea of her worrying over me, seeing me like that¡­ It wasn¡¯t a thought I wanted to dwell on.

    I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message from Leora.

    Leora:

    I just saw your fight. That¡¯s badass. I¡¯d normally be scared to death, but thankfully it¡¯s the Fighting Tower. Used to have a training program with my old team back there. Really fun place.

    I rubbed my temple. If only she knew how flawed the Tower¡¯s protections really were.

    Another buzz followed almost immediately:

    Leora:

    Anyways, lots of love from me and Leonard. Got any intel on the Cult? Just asking, no pressure¡­ because I think they¡¯re on the move. They made a few moves against us recently¡­ had to relocate three times already. Even Stefan was attacked once. I think they don¡¯t see you as a threat like you theorized.

    Her words settled uneasily in my gut.

    Leora:

    Seriously though, work your ass a little harder¡­ and since you won¡¯t tell me your whole picture, I will continue bitching about it. If you get killed, I swear I¡¯ll make Leonard¡¯s name legally changed to Reynard Jr. And I know how much you¡¯d hate that.

    I exhaled sharply, smirking despite myself. Typical Leora¡ªalways finding a way to mix humor with pointed reminders of my failures.

    But the humor faded as guilt crept in. I stared at the screen, unable to type a response. What could I even say? That I had everything under control? That I was closing in on answers? The truth was, I felt like I was spinning my wheels.

    I clenched my fist, her words echoing in my mind. Work your ass a little harder.

    Was it arrogance that brought me here? The promises I¡¯d made to her¡ªto protect her and Leonard¡ªfelt like distant memories, overshadowed by my failures. I told her I¡¯d take care of everything, that they wouldn¡¯t have to live in fear anymore. And yet, while they were being hunted, I was here in this damn Tower, tangled in its endless games.

    Patience. I needed to hold onto it. Impulsiveness wouldn¡¯t help anyone.

    The sound of the television snapped me out of my thoughts. Selena¡¯s match was wrapping up.

    On the screen, her opponent lay sprawled on the ground, defeated. Selena stood over him, holding his surfboard triumphantly. Her miniaturization technique had come into play at the last second, shrinking the board and rendering it useless in his hands. Now it was hers.

    I scoffed, shaking my head. She could¡¯ve ended the fight much sooner if she¡¯d unleashed her full power. But no¡ªshe clearly had her eyes on that board from the start.

    Selena¡¯s miniaturization ability always fascinated me. It wasn¡¯t just impressive; it was almost impossible to replicate. No matter how much I tried to reverse-engineer her methods, I couldn¡¯t come close to reproducing it.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I yawned, stretching out the stiffness in my shoulders. Sitting in my room was doing me no favors. I needed a change of scenery¡ªand a chance to confront Selena about her performance.

    The Lobby

    The corridor outside my room led to a sprawling, open area that served as a hub for the participants. Hunters mingled freely, their competitive edge dulled by the casual atmosphere. Tables and chairs sprouted from the floor like magic, accommodating impromptu gatherings. The ever-reliable vending machines clicked and whirred, dispensing drinks and meals on demand.

    Even the hunters who had already been eliminated seemed to be enjoying themselves. President Bob¡¯s love for spectacle ensured that this space felt more like a festival than a battleground.

    ¡°Yo~¡± Selena¡¯s voice rang out, pulling me from my thoughts.

    I turned to see her leaning lazily against a vending machine, a smirk plastered across her face. ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d forgotten about me¡­¡±

    I crossed my arms. ¡°You¡¯re enjoying yourself. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be my bodyguard?¡±

    She rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. ¡°The Tower¡¯s practically made us unkillable. What¡¯s there to guard you from now?¡±

    I bit back the urge to mention Gerry and the close call that would have killed me. No need to give her more ammunition for teasing.

    Instead, my eyes caught on something in her hair. It took me a second to realize what it was: a tacky clip that looked out of place against her otherwise practical style.

    Then it hit me. It wasn¡¯t just a hair accessory. It was the surfboard she¡¯d stolen during her match, miniaturized and repurposed.

    ¡°Nasty,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    Selena caught my gaze and grinned wider. ¡°Like it? Thought I¡¯d put it to good use. Why waste good loot?¡±

    I sighed, shaking my head. Of course, she¡¯d find a way to flaunt her spoils.

    The ambient glow of the Tower¡¯s magical lighting bathed the lobby in a steady, ethereal light. Time here felt warped, suspended between battles and fleeting moments of calm. Outside, it must¡¯ve been dark by now, but inside the Tower, the cycles of day and night felt irrelevant.

    Selena and I stood in line at one of the vending machines, its interface gleaming with endless meal options. With a few selections, our orders materialized, accompanied by a symphony of quiet clicks and whirs.

    We found a spot in a quieter corner of the lobby. The floor hummed beneath us, and mechanical arms emerged, producing a table and chairs that seamlessly rose from the ground. Even after all this time, the Tower¡¯s ingenuity still managed to surprise me.

    I glanced down at my tray: steaming rice, chicken stew, and a glass of pineapple juice that looked almost comically fresh, as if advertising its health benefits. Across from me, Selena poked at her plate of greens, grains, and tofu¡ªa full vegan spread.

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t take you for a vegan.¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°You learn something new every day.¡±

    I stirred my stew, deciding to change the subject. ¡°Who¡¯s your next opponent?¡±

    She took a deliberate sip of her tea before answering. ¡°Some guy who calls himself Dummy¡­¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Dummy? How did that guy make it this far?¡±

    ¡°You know him?¡± she asked, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork.

    ¡°I saw him messing around with Black on the airship,¡± I replied. ¡°They were playing chess. He¡¯s a trickster with some kind of ¡®weakening¡¯ or ¡®retardation¡¯ attribute. No idea how strong he really is, though.¡±

    Selena leaned back, mulling this over, but my thoughts were already spiraling.

    Dummy. Among all the characters I¡¯d written into this world, I couldn¡¯t place anyone by that name. My gut twisted with suspicion. Was he some hidden master disguised as a clown? The idea seemed absurd, even for this place, but the Tower had a way of throwing curveballs.

    Selena¡¯s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. ¡°So¡­ who¡¯s the chick?¡±

    I followed her gaze to the holographic jumbotron hovering above us. The tournament bracket shimmered, and there it was¡ªmy face paired with my next opponent¡¯s: Marah Maldave.

    As if summoned by her name, Marah appeared.

    She was petite, barely over five feet, with pale white skin that seemed to glow under the Tower¡¯s lights. Her dark hair framed a face dominated by crimson eyes that glimmered with an unsettling mix of curiosity and malice. Her outfit was equally striking: a cropped top that left her shoulders, neck, and midriff exposed, paired with fitted pants and boots that gave her a predatory edge. Every movement she made was deliberate, calculated.

    My stomach churned with recognition.

    I scowled, my voice laced with venom. ¡°The High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult. Tell me, Marah, how does it feel to be the Prophet¡¯s little lapdog?¡±

    Marah¡¯s lips curled into a serene smile, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

    Selena shot me a warning look. ¡°Oi, Rey. Is that smart? Playing ignorant might¡¯ve given us an edge.¡±

    I shook my head, not breaking eye contact with Marah. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s a Reader-type. Mind-reader. She¡¯s already in my head. Don¡¯t let her looks fool you¡ªthis is the High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult. And she¡¯s older than she looks.¡±

    Marah¡¯s voice was silky, with a mocking undertone. ¡°My, my, such aggression. I wonder, Reynard¡­ how did you kill Naon? And still live?¡±

    The mention of Naon sent a spike of anger through me, but I clenched my fists, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. If they¡¯d sent Marah, it meant the Cult was taking me seriously. That was a silver lining, at least.

    Selena leaned closer, her voice low. ¡°What¡¯s she talking about?¡±

    ¡°Naon,¡± I said through gritted teeth. ¡°The Prophet¡¯s right hand.¡±

    Marah¡¯s smile widened, and she gave a slight nod, as if confirming a long-held suspicion.

    The desire to strike her down surged within me, but I forced myself to stay calm. This wasn¡¯t the time or place. Even if I had the Association¡¯s probability-destroying dagger, the Tower¡¯s rules made outright killing impossible. But that didn¡¯t mean she wasn¡¯t dangerous.

    Marah tilted her head, her tone dripping with faux curiosity. ¡°You¡¯ve made quite the impression, Reynard. I wonder¡­ will you survive our little dance?¡±

    I kept my voice steady, matching her mockery with cold defiance. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± And with the smallest amount of aura, I letout my killing intent.

    Marah¡¯s voice oozed mockery as she tilted her head, crimson eyes glinting with menace. ¡°So much killing intent¡­ and here I was, thinking of offering you an olive branch to join the Cult. But you¡¯re so stubborn, aren¡¯t you? Let¡¯s see if you¡¯ll still look so confident after I rip out your soul, crush it, and feed on it.¡±

    Her words hung in the air like a curse, daring me to react. But I smirked, meeting her gaze without flinching. ¡°Big talk. Let¡¯s see if you can back it up, High Priestess.¡±

    For a brief moment, her confident smile faltered, but she quickly masked it, her voice dripping with malice. ¡°Oh, I can back it up. And you¡­¡± She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. ¡°Such a pity. Your memories are fragmented, but I can read you just enough.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, my tone deliberately calm. ¡°Fragmented? What¡¯s your game, Marah? Why reveal yourself now?¡±

    Her expression shifted, adopting a veneer of sincerity that was almost convincing. ¡°My reasoning is quite pure, you know?¡±

    Selena scoffed from beside me. ¡°As if.¡±

    Marah chuckled softly, but the sound carried an edge that sent a chill through the air. ¡°Join the Cult,¡± she purred, her voice as smooth as silk. ¡°Offer your firstborn son to us, and we shall bestow upon you the gift of immortality. Of course, if your wife is inclined to join as well¡­ that would be perfect. Just so you know, we allow multiple marriages, so it¡¯s entirely possible for you to take a second wife.¡±

    At the mention of a second wife, her gaze lingered on Selena, her crimson eyes tracing her with an unsettling intensity.

    Selena¡¯s patience snapped. ¡°This fucking bitch.¡±

    I bit back a laugh, keeping my composure. Instead, I tilted my head, my smirk widening as I locked eyes with Marah. ¡°Tell me, Marah, what am I thinking right now?¡±

    Her confident expression flickered as she squinted at me, clearly digging into my mind. The silence stretched, tension crackling in the air. Finally, she spoke, her tone smug. ¡°That you want to kill me.¡±

    I shook my head, my smirk never wavering. ¡°Look deeper.¡±

    Her brows furrowed as she focused more intently, her crimson eyes narrowing. The room seemed to grow colder as her expression shifted¡ªfirst confusion, then something darker. Her lips parted slightly, and her voice trembled. ¡°W-what?¡±

    The energy in the air shifted as Marah¡¯s composure began to crumble. Her gaze darted, her breathing quickened, and then, like a dam breaking, tears welled in her eyes.

    Soft sobs escaped her, her shoulders trembling as she staggered back. ¡°Lies!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking as panic overtook her expression. Her hands shook violently, and her eyes were wide with terror, as if she¡¯d glimpsed something too horrifying to comprehend.

    Then, without warning, she turned and bolted, her movements frantic and erratic. Her once-confident demeanor was shattered, her steps uneven as she fled the scene.

    Selena stared after her, her voice low and tinged with disbelief. ¡°What did you do?¡±

    I let the silence stretch, leaning back slightly as I watched Marah disappear into the distance. Finally, I gave a cryptic smile. ¡°That¡¯s a secret.¡±

    Selena scowled, frustration and confusion written all over her face. ¡°You¡¯re insufferable, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Part of my charm,¡± I replied with a shrug, but my thoughts were already elsewhere.

    This wasn¡¯t just a minor victory. Shaking Marah¡¯s resolve was the first domino in a much larger chain. Her confidence had been her armor, and now that it was cracked, the Cult would feel the ripple effects.

    The counterattack had truly begun.

    ~054

 055 Repairs & Reflections

    LV

    Rest was crucial, but priorities came first. My doll had taken a beating in the fight against Shen, and without it functioning at its best, I¡¯d be walking into the next match half-prepared¡ªa mistake I couldn¡¯t afford.

    After gathering my thoughts, I turned to Selena for help.

    ¡°Can you introduce me to the surfboard guy?¡± I asked, already formulating a plan.

    She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. ¡°Harper? What for?¡±

    ¡°I need his attribute,¡± I replied, keeping my tone brisk and to the point.

    A few minutes later, I stood face-to-face with Harper. He was a bald man with a barcode tattoo on his forehead, a feature that gave him an oddly utilitarian look. His demeanor was cautious but curious as his sharp eyes sized me up.

    ¡°So, we just need to shake hands? And then you¡¯ll consult me with some questions?¡± he asked, skepticism coloring his voice.

    I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±

    Harper shrugged, his expression relaxing slightly. ¡°Sounds easy enough.¡±

    We shook hands, and I felt a faint hum ripple through me¡ªthe telltale sign of his attribute transferring over. Aerodynamics. It was subtle but already brimming with potential.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, releasing his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work.¡±

    Back in my room, tools and scraps were scattered across the floor and desk, remnants of my earlier attempts to repair the doll. Harper took one look at the mess and rolled up his sleeves without a word.

    It didn¡¯t take long before we were knee-deep in grease and sweat, the room filled with the rhythmic clinks of metal and the occasional spark from our work. Harper scolded me at least three times within the first hour.

    ¡°Careful with that joint! You¡¯re about to throw the whole balance off,¡± he muttered, snatching a tool from my hand. ¡°Seriously, how¡¯d you make it this far without blowing something up?¡±

    ¡°Talent,¡± I deadpanned, wiping my hands on a rag.

    It was a lie. When it came to anything remotely mechanical, I was a talentless fool.

    Despite his reprimands, Harper was a patient teacher. He explained concepts in simple terms, and with his attribute lending me insight, I started to see how the pieces fit together.

    Partway through the process, I stumbled upon something remarkable. The vending machines connected to the World Path were far more versatile than I¡¯d realized. They weren¡¯t just limited to food and basic supplies¡ªif I had the money, I could order almost any material I needed.

    To test it, I keyed in the name of a specific alloy Harper recommended for reinforcing the doll¡¯s frame. Moments later, the machine dispensed a small, neatly packaged bar of the material with a soft ping.

    ¡°Convenient,¡± Harper remarked, inspecting the alloy. ¡°That¡¯s good stuff. This tower really does have everything.¡±

    As we worked late into the night, Harper¡¯s sharp eyes never left the doll. He ran his fingers over its joints and mechanisms, his expression contemplative.

    ¡°You call it yours,¡± he said slowly, ¡°but this¡­ it¡¯s not, is it?¡±

    I hesitated for a moment before answering. ¡°Yeah, I stole it.¡±

    Harper snorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Figures. You and that lady¡ªSelena, right?¡ªyou¡¯re two peas in a pod, huh? Girlfriend?¡±

    I laughed, shaking my head. ¡°Who? Selena? No, she¡¯s not my girlfriend. I¡¯ve got a wife already.¡±

    Harper looked genuinely surprised. ¡°Oh, my bad, man. I didn¡¯t know. Me too, actually.¡± His tone softened. ¡°I miss them a lot, you know. Just had my youngest before all this.¡±

    That caught my attention. ¡°You¡¯ve got kids?¡±

    ¡°Two of ¡¯em,¡± Harper said, a wistful smile crossing his face. ¡°Oldest just started school. The youngest¡­ barely a few months old. This tower thing¡¯s got me wishing I could be home, but you know how it is. Gotta provide.¡±

    It was easy to forget that everyone here had lives and loved ones waiting outside.

    Harper sat beside me, his chair tilted back at a precarious angle, arms crossed as he watched me work. My desk was a controlled chaos of tools, spare parts, and half-finished blueprints, but Harper didn¡¯t seem fazed. Instead, he answered my endless stream of questions about airflow, resistance, and energy efficiency with a patience that surprised me.

    ¡°Why are you so invested in this doll, anyway?¡± he asked, leaning forward to inspect the intricate mechanisms I was fine-tuning.

    I didn¡¯t look up. ¡°The next match is going to be a tough one¡ªand important for me. This doll isn¡¯t just a tool; it¡¯s a part of my combat style. It needs to be perfect.¡±

    Harper chuckled, his voice carrying a teasing edge. ¡°You¡¯re a bit of a perfectionist, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Not perfection,¡± I corrected, tightening a joint in the doll¡¯s arm. ¡°Preparedness.¡±

    The hours passed in a focused blur. Harper¡¯s attribute¡ªa passive enhancement that improved his efficiency with mechanical systems¡ªproved invaluable. With his input and my modifications, the doll¡¯s frame became lighter and more agile. Its joints moved with fluid precision, and the adjustments to its core systems boosted its responsiveness to my aura control.

    I gave it a final test, sending a pulse of energy into the doll. It sprang to life, darting across the room in a series of graceful maneuvers. It weaved through obstacles like a falcon in flight, its speed and precision a testament to our combined efforts.

    Satisfied, I set the doll down gently, running a hand over its sleek surface. ¡°Thanks, Harper. This might just make the difference.¡±

    Harper leaned back with a lopsided grin. ¡°No problem. Just don¡¯t use it against me¡­ because that will suck.¡±

    Despite his expertise, we hadn¡¯t been able to incorporate flight capabilities into the doll¡ªa disappointing but not unexpected limitation. Instead, we¡¯d focused on improving its speed and agility, enhancements that could prove just as critical in the upcoming battles.

    As we began tidying up, Harper wiped his hands on a rag and gave me a sideways glance. ¡°So,¡± he said casually, ¡°you paying in cash or with a favor?¡±

    I tilted my head, intrigued. ¡°What do you prefer?¡±

    He smirked. ¡°A favor. You seem like the type to keep your word.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, considering his request. ¡°What kind of favor are we talking about?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Harper shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Nothing specific right now. I¡¯ll cash it in when I need it.¡±

    I thought about it for a moment before nodding. Favors had a way of building connections, and they often held more value than money in places like this. Harper¡¯s confidence suggested he understood that too.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said, offering a handshake.

    He took it, his grip firm but easy. ¡°Good. Don¡¯t make me regret trusting you.¡±

    Once we¡¯d finished packing up, I stood and stretched, my muscles protesting after hours hunched over the workbench. I gestured toward the door with a smirk. ¡°Alright, you¡¯re overstaying your welcome. Time to go.¡±

    Harper chuckled, grabbing his jacket. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll let you have your alone time with your precious doll. Good luck, man. And don¡¯t forget about that favor!¡±

    The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me in the quiet hum of my room.

    I glanced at the doll resting on the table, its polished surface gleaming under the overhead light. This wasn¡¯t just a tool¡ªit was a reflection of my determination. The next match loomed ahead, and I couldn¡¯t afford to lose.

    Preparedness. That was the key.

    The room felt quieter without Harper¡¯s presence, a stillness I welcomed. With the doll upgraded and ready for the battles ahead, my focus shifted to my next project: the coin.

    It sat on my desk, deceptively simple in design¡ªan unassuming object that could tip the scales in my favor. This wasn¡¯t just any coin. It would serve as my battery, a reservoir capable of holding ten times the aura my doll could manage. Even better, it would retain that energy far longer, making it invaluable in prolonged fights.

    I picked it up, its surface cool and smooth under my fingertips. Closing my eyes, I focused my aura and began the delicate process of infusion. A faint, shimmering glow spread across the coin as the energy sank in, layer by layer.

    Each infusion demanded precision and patience. Rushing could weaken its structure, causing the stored energy to leak or destabilize. Artifacts in the world of Hunterworks were a curious mix of scientific principles and magical phenomena¡ªan intersection of logic and mystery.

    The coin¡¯s innate mysticism gave me a strong foundation to work with, even if my aura potency wasn¡¯t the strongest. With my Soul Link ability, I could recharge it fully in no time, provided I had the mental power.

    Hours passed, the air in the room thick with the hum of concentrated energy. The coin began to vibrate faintly, its surface glowing with a soft, otherworldly light. It was nearing completion.

    I held it up to the light, admiring the craftsmanship and the aura thrumming beneath its surface. This was more than just a tool¡ªit was my trump card, my lifeline for the battles to come.

    As I admired my work, a voice shattered the quiet.

    ¡°Can we talk?¡±

    Instinct kicked in before reason.

    Small tendrils of bluish aura erupted from the floor, walls, and ceiling, twisting like vines toward the intruder. My room was saturated with my aura, an experimental technique I¡¯d developed after a few weeks of study. Initially, Soul Link had only worked on biological targets, but my thesis¡ªA Study on Thematic Powers Manifested by Aura¡ªhad opened new doors. Now, I could bind my aura to objects and spaces, creating a defensive web around me.

    I spun around, prepared to strike, only to freeze.

    Standing there, with an air of casual defiance, was my self-proclaimed sister.

    ¡°Lo and behold,¡± I muttered, lowering my guard but not my wariness. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Atropos,¡± I remarked, eyeing the silver-haired woman standing in my room. She was dressed in her signature maid outfit, her expression as blank as ever. ¡°What do you want with me? If you¡¯re here to convince me not to join¡ª¡±

    ¡°I am not here to tell you what not to do,¡± Atropos interrupted, her voice smooth, devoid of any inflection. ¡°I merely wish to talk.¡±

    Despite her neutral tone, I couldn¡¯t shake the unease crawling up my spine. Why was I so on guard around her? ¡°Weird,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    ¡°Do you not remember me?¡± she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

    ¡°I remember you well enough,¡± I said, crossing my arms. As a character in Hunterworks, not as my sister. ¡°After all, you are among them, aren¡¯t you? A member of the upper echelon to the Hunter Association.¡±

    Atropos studied me for a moment, her crimson eyes unreadable. ¡°I see.¡±

    I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°Let me ask you something.¡±

    She gave a slight nod. ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re my sister, as you claim¡­ what¡¯s with the flirting back on the airship?¡± I leaned against my desk, fixing her with a pointed look. ¡°Not to mention the few times you tried to get a pass from me. That was¡­ bizzare.¡±

    Her gaze didn¡¯t waver, but there was a flicker of something¡ªregret, maybe?¡ªin her otherwise impassive expression.

    ¡°A large portion of my memories has been deleted,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°However, I managed to recover a few¡­ most of them are about you.¡±

    Her words hung in the air, and I wasn¡¯t sure how to respond.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain the flirting,¡± I pointed out, trying to keep my tone neutral.

    Atropos hesitated, a rare occurrence for someone so composed. ¡°The memories I have of you¡­ they¡¯re fragmented. Some are from when we were younger¡ªothers, I can¡¯t place at all. The way I acted on the airship was based on incomplete data. I was¡­ trying to connect.¡±

    ¡°By hitting on me?¡±

    She tilted her head again, almost like she was trying to process the question. ¡°It seemed¡­ effective at the time.¡±

    I stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or groan. ¡°You really are something else.¡±

    ¡°I am aware that my actions may have caused discomfort,¡± she said, her tone as flat as ever. ¡°For that, I apologize.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ it¡¯s not like I¡¯m great at this family thing either,¡± I muttered, running a hand through my hair. ¡°But if you want to talk, let¡¯s get one thing straight¡ªI¡¯m not buying into the not join the Hunting Dog crap.¡±

    Atropos nodded slowly. ¡°I did not come here to dissuade you, Reynard.¡±

    If she was truly my sister, then there might be an explanation as to how good I was at using aura despite my lack of experience and seemingly low aura reserves. It was a skill that always felt more instinctual than learned, as if it were ingrained in my very being. If Atropos held the answers, then I needed to hear them.

    I crossed my arms, leaning back against the desk. ¡°Tell me about our childhood.¡±

    Atropos regarded me with her usual calmness. ¡°How old are you now?¡±

    I frowned. ¡°That¡¯s suspicious.¡±

    ¡°I only ask to align the fragments of my memory,¡± she explained, her tone steady. ¡°My memory is incomplete, but I will try to stay objective.¡±

    ¡°Go on, then.¡±

    She closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching through the scattered pieces of her recollection. ¡°I believe that some years ago, there was a city like what we have today, but different. In that city, there were neither cryptids nor hunters. It was a peaceful city. We lived in a two-story home with an older woman we referred to as Grandma. We would go to school to learn. We would return home and eat Grandam¡¯s cooking. We were happy.¡±

    Her words painted a vivid picture, one that tugged at something deep inside me, though I couldn¡¯t place it. ¡°What¡¯s my favorite food?¡±

    ¡°Pork tamarind soup with greens and potatoes,¡± she answered without hesitation.

    I blinked. That was correct. ¡°What¡¯s my favorite board game?¡±

    ¡°Scrabble.¡±

    I squinted at her, trying to gauge her sincerity. ¡°What¡¯s Grandma¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Leia.¡±

    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Everything she said checked out. Those details were too specific to be fabricated. Yet, why didn¡¯t I remember her? Surely, I would know if I had a sister.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I remember you?¡± I asked, my voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

    Atropos hesitated, her crimson eyes flickering with something unspoken. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It is possible that your memories were altered¡­ or that you were shielded from the truth for your own safety.¡±

    ¡°Safety from what?¡± I pressed.

    She didn¡¯t answer right away, instead stepping closer. ¡°Reynard, the world we live in is more complex than it appears. Our family¡ªour past¡ªit¡¯s tied to things far greater than us. You may not remember me now, but that does not change the fact that I am your sister. And I am here to protect you.¡±

    Her words carried a weight that left no room for doubt, but they only deepened the questions swirling in my mind. If what she said was true, then my past¡ªand my identity¡ªwas more entangled with this world than I had ever realized.

    I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re asking me to trust you.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said simply. ¡°Because whether you accept it or not, we are bound by blood. And I will always have your back.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your earliest memory?¡± I asked Atropos.

    ¡°A government-sanctioned lab,¡± she replied without hesitation. Her tone was flat, almost mechanical, but her crimson eyes seemed to flicker with a faint glimmer of something¡ªpain, maybe? ¡°How about you?¡±

    She was throwing the question back at me. Fair enough. It was give and take, after all.

    ¡°I¡­¡± I started, but the words caught in my throat.

    What was my earliest memory?

    My breathing quickened, and a strange pressure built in my chest. Images flitted through my mind, disjointed and fleeting. I remembered writing a novel. I remembered thinking I had a past life. But beyond that¡­ nothing. No clarity. No context.

    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Atropos asked, her voice calm but edged with concern.

    ¡°I¡­¡± My hands clenched into fists. My breathing turned shallow, each gasp feeling like it wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡±

    Her gaze sharpened. ¡°Reynard, what¡¯s your earliest memory?¡±

    I swallowed hard, forcing myself to answer. ¡°Waking up in the alleyways of Rumas City,¡± I finally said, my voice shaky. ¡°I was seventeen. I was¡­ homeless.¡±

    For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the coin still resting on the desk.

    Atropos tilted her head slightly. ¡°It looks like¡­ we are in the same situation,¡± she said softly.

    I looked at her, trying to gauge her expression, but her face was as unreadable as ever. Still, her words struck a chord. If what she said was true, then we were both blank slates, thrown into this world with fragmented memories and no real past to anchor us.

    ¡°Do you think it means something?¡± I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°It must,¡± she replied, her tone resolute. ¡°Our circumstances are too similar to be mere coincidence.¡±

    ~055

 056 Hero of Elsewhere

    XVI

    The artificial morning sun spilled through the tall windows, its light casting long shadows across the elevated platform in the heart of the venue. Unlike the exotic arenas and elaborate battlefields we¡¯d fought in before, this setting was raw, simple, and completely exposed. A single metal stage stood where hunters usually mingled or announcements were made. No frills, no distractions¡ªjust a stark battleground where everything would be laid bare.

    The semi-finals.

    I took a deep breath, the weight of the day settling heavily on my shoulders. The crowd buzzed quietly around me, a mix of spectators, eliminated hunters, and those who had come to witness the next step in this grueling tournament.

    President Bob stood at the edge of the platform, as eccentric as ever. His red cape fluttered slightly, an unnecessary addition to his already flamboyant outfit. But the real kicker was his choice of shorts. Bright yellow, almost offensively so. I didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or marvel at the sheer audacity of it.

    Focus, Reynard.

    I stepped onto the platform, my shoes clicking softly against the metal floor. The murmurs of the crowd quieted as I took my place at the center, their collective attention now fixed on me. The air felt heavier here, charged with expectation.

    And then¡­ I waited.

    The seconds stretched, each one dragging longer than the last. The silence pressed against my ears, amplifying the tension. My gaze flickered to the entrance, half-expecting Marah Maldave to saunter in with her trademark smugness and air of invincibility.

    But no one came.

    A whisper rippled through the audience, growing louder with each passing moment. I kept my expression neutral, but unease crept in. What was taking her so long?

    President Bob finally raised his hand, commanding silence. His voice boomed across the open space, amplified by the speakers.

    ¡°Since Marah Maldave has left the venue and forfeited the match, the victor of this semi-final is Reynard Bright!¡±

    For a moment, I thought I¡¯d misheard him.

    The crowd erupted into murmurs and gasps, their voices a chaotic blend of confusion, disappointment, and wild speculation.

    ¡°Did she really forfeit?¡±

    ¡°Why would she leave? She was a semi-finalist!¡±

    ¡°Maybe Reynard scared her off?¡±

    I stood there, letting their chatter wash over me. My heart pounded in my chest, not from excitement but from the strange hollowness of it all. This wasn¡¯t how I¡¯d envisioned this match ending.

    I swept my gaze across the crowd, catching glimpses of curious eyes, skeptical faces, and the occasional knowing smirk. Somewhere in the sea of people, I saw Harper watching me, his expression unreadable.

    Marah Maldave¡­ forfeited? Why?

    Probably because of what I have shown her¡­

    I stepped off the stage as President Bob declared the match officially closed, his enthusiasm doing little to lift the strange mood.

    The roar of the crowd faded to a dull hum. My focus narrowed on Selena, who stood near the edge of the gathering, arms crossed, her expression casual but her eyes sharp as ever. She always had a knack for looking relaxed while being anything but.

    I made my way toward her, closing the distance quickly. Without a word, I reached out and lightly grabbed her arm, leaning in to ensure what I said next wouldn¡¯t carry beyond her ears.

    ¡°I suspect ¡®Dummy¡¯ to be a member of the Elsewhere Cult,¡± I whispered, my tone low but firm. ¡°Be careful. He can disrupt probabilities, nullify auras, and bypass the Tower¡¯s protection.¡±

    Her smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a hard, calculating look. ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a suspicion. What tipped you off?¡±

    I hesitated. The realization had struck me like a bolt of lightning moments earlier, all the fragmented pieces of evidence falling into place. ¡°Just trust me on this one,¡± I said, my voice quieter now.

    Selena studied me for a long moment, her sharp gaze searching mine. ¡°Fine. But you better not leave me in the dark for long. I hate the dark. It¡¯s not fun.¡±

    I glanced around, my mind racing. Marah¡¯s sudden disappearance, the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at me since the beginning of this round¡ªit all made sense now. There was only one person in the Elsewhere Cult capable of causing this kind of disruption, someone who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to intervene if it meant keeping their secrets intact.

    The Hero.

    In the Hunterworks lore, the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s leadership was divided into a trinity: the Saint, the Prophet, and the Hero. Each one held immense power, but the Hero was their weapon¡ªa zealot who carried out the cult¡¯s most dangerous missions. Known by many titles¡ªHead Inquisitor, Chief Warrior, True Fanatic¡ªhe was most terrifying for his ability to operate within and outside the Tower¡¯s rules.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Selena let out a slow breath, her eyes scanning the crowd. ¡°So, let me get this straight. This ¡®Dummy¡¯ can kill you and me, but we can¡¯t kill him because the Tower¡¯s protections favor him? That¡¯s a real peach of a situation.¡±

    I nodded grimly. ¡°Exactly. He¡¯s capable of bypassing the safeguards the Tower provides. He¡¯s not just dangerous¡ªhe¡¯s a zealot, someone who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to break all the rules if it meant fulfilling his mission. And right now, that mission likely includes taking me out.¡±

    Selena tilted her head, her expression shifting to something colder, sharper. ¡°So, what¡¯s the play? Do you want me to keep him off you? Or...¡± Her lips curled into a grin, though it lacked her usual cheer. ¡°Do you want me to end him before he gets to you? I don¡¯t care if the Tower makes it impossible¡ªif he can kill us, I¡¯ll figure out a way to return the favor.¡±

    My eyes flicked to President Bob, who was watching us from across the venue, his grin wide and knowing. He had a way of making you feel like he was in on every secret, even if he wasn¡¯t.

    I leaned closer to Selena, lowering my voice even more. ¡°You can kill him.¡±

    Her eyebrows shot up, her grin fading into a skeptical smirk. ¡°How? Come on, the President¡¯s staring at us... He might disqualify me, you know? Speak faster.¡±

    I took a steadying breath. ¡°The Elsewhere Hero¡¯s attributes work against him. Because of the nature of his powers and techniques, the Tower¡¯s protection doesn¡¯t apply to him. If you go for the kill, he¡¯ll die for real. No revival. No miraculous healing. But...¡±

    Selena¡¯s smirk vanished entirely, her gaze turning razor-sharp. ¡°But what?¡±

    ¡°That only works if he¡¯s going for the kill too,¡± I said carefully. ¡°If he¡¯s just playing it safe, using basic aura techniques, he¡¯s untouchable. The Tower will shield him. We can¡¯t afford to provoke him into a full-on fight unless we¡¯re absolutely sure we can finish it.¡±

    Selena let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. ¡°You really think I¡¯m going to sit back and wait for him to make the first move? Dream on, Reynard. If I have the opportunity, I¡¯m ending him.¡±

    ¡°Selena, listen¡ª¡±

    But she didn¡¯t wait. With a graceful bound, she leapt onto the arena platform, landing in a crouch that radiated confidence and danger.

    The crowd erupted into cheers and murmurs as Selena straightened, her eyes locking onto Dummy. Her posture, her stance¡ªit was a challenge, plain and simple.

    I watched her, my chest tight with unease. The Hero was here, and Selena was walking straight into his path.

    All I could do now was hope she was ready.

    The crowd¡¯s murmurs swelled, their excitement palpable as Selena stood tall on the platform. Her cloak caught the artificial light, billowing faintly behind her like a banner of defiance. From the opposite side, Dummy stepped forward, his movements casual yet unnervingly deliberate. His unassuming figure betrayed the immense danger I knew he posed.

    Selena didn¡¯t wait for any formalities. Her aura flared to life, a shimmering distortion that crackled with latent energy. In her mind, the fight had already begun.

    All I could do now was watch¡ªand trust her.

    It wasn¡¯t that I doubted her abilities. Selena Fair was as skilled as they came, a hunter whose ingenuity often left her opponents reeling. But Dummy¡ªno, the Elsewhere Hero¡ªwas no ordinary opponent. He wasn¡¯t just strong; he was an unstoppable force, a living storm bound by no rules but his own.

    President Bob¡¯s booming voice cut through the murmurs, commanding the attention of everyone present. ¡°On my left side is Selena Fair, known for her unorthodox techniques and overwhelming firepower! And on my right side, the enigmatic Dummy, undefeated and untouched in all his matches! A battle of the unpredictable versus the indomitable!¡±

    The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy in the air electric.

    Dummy stood calmly, his expression almost bored. He wore a weathered leather jacket over a plain shirt and ripped jeans, the picture of nonchalance. Yet every movement he made, from the way he slipped brass knuckles onto his hands to the slight adjustment of his stance, spoke of deadly precision.

    ¡°Fight!¡± Bob¡¯s declaration rang out, and the arena came alive.

    Selena wasted no time. Her invisibility cloak shimmered before vanishing entirely, leaving her unseen to the naked eye. The platform erupted in chaos as her arsenal came into play. Submachine guns barked, grenades detonated, and an RPG sent shockwaves through the air. Smoke and debris obscured the stage as explosions tore apart the metal floor, the crowd roaring with every thunderous impact.

    And then, through the chaos, came a sound that sent a chill down my spine¡ªa low, condescending laugh.

    As the dust began to settle, the figure of Dummy emerged unscathed, standing at the center of the destruction. Not a single mark marred his appearance.

    Selena, visible once more, lunged at him with blinding speed. But Dummy was faster. His fist drove into her abdomen with the force of a sledgehammer, sending her crumpling to her knees.

    It was a quite a sight as Selena¡¯s eyes dulled, while she spat a fuckton of blood.

    Bob stepped forward, his tone solemn. ¡°Knockout! The winner is Dummy!¡±

    The crowd erupted, a cacophony of cheers and gasps. But something didn¡¯t sit right. My instincts screamed at me to look closer.

    Then, the thunderous bang of a shotgun shattered the noise.

    Selena had stopped holding back.

    The arena fell silent as Dummy¡¯s body collapsed, his head exploding in a gruesome spray. The crowd froze, stunned, as Selena stepped forward, a shotgun resting casually on her shoulder. Smoke curled from the barrel, her expression one of cool defiance.

    She blew on the muzzle, smirking. ¡°Take that back, Bob.¡±

    President Bob, caught mid-declaration, blinked in surprise. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. ¡°Well, it seems I may have jumped the gun¡ªso to speak.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow, her tone biting. ¡°Declare my victory.¡±

    But Bob¡¯s demeanor shifted, his grin fading into something more serious. ¡°Unfortunately, Selena, my Seeker techniques aren¡¯t that terrible.¡±

    A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Dummy¡¯s lifeless body began to stir.

    The headless figure pushed itself upright, its movements unnervingly smooth. The audience watched in horrified fascination as bone, sinew, and flesh regenerated before their eyes, reconstructing his head in a matter of moments.

    Dummy stretched lazily, his smirk returning as if nothing had happened. ¡°That was a cheap shot,¡± he said, his voice carrying a mocking edge. ¡°But I¡¯ll admit, it stung a little.¡±

    Selena¡¯s grip on her shotgun tightened, her frustration evident. Yet beneath it, I could see the spark of determination that had carried her through countless battles.

    This fight wasn¡¯t over¡ªnot by a long shot.

    And now we knew: this wasn¡¯t going to be a test of brute strength. To bring down the Elsewhere Hero, it would take cunning, precision, and a willingness to embrace risks that bordered on madness.

    ~056

 057 The Breaking Point

    LVII

    Selena Fair had fought her share of battles. As an unofficial hunter, she had worn many hats¡ªbodyguard, thief, spy. Her skills were razor-sharp, honed by years of grueling experience. Yet, despite her prowess, she knew her place in the hierarchy of power. Among the titans capable of reshaping battlefields, she was but a shadow of what she might have been.

    President Bob was one of those titans, a juggernaut whose power dwarfed even the Association¡¯s elite hunters. Leora¡¯s refined grace and Reynard¡¯s burning ambition might place them near that realm, but they hadn¡¯t yet crossed its threshold.

    And Dummy? Selena didn¡¯t need Reynard¡¯s warnings to recognize the truth. This man¡ªor whatever he was¡ªbelonged to that realm. Not everyone could casually shrug off a shotgun blast or regenerate a head.

    Dummy smirked, his tone dripping with mockery. ¡°So, are we gonna stare at each other all day, or are we gonna throw hands?¡±

    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed, her hand brushing against the activation switch of her invisibility cloak. In an instant, she vanished.

    But Dummy moved before she could reposition. He closed the gap with unnatural precision, his fist stopping mere inches from her face.

    Her cloak flickered, revealing her stunned expression.

    Dummy chuckled, his smirk widening. ¡°Oh, did I forget to mention? Your little tricks don¡¯t work on me.¡±

    Selena¡¯s mind raced. Dummy¡¯s ability to nullify wasn¡¯t limited to gifts. It extended to artifacts, to aura itself¡ªanything with energy seemed to fall under his domain.

    Sliding back to avoid his next strike, she reached for another tool in her arsenal. Fine, she thought grimly, if tricks won¡¯t work, let¡¯s see how you handle the unexpected.

    But Dummy was relentless. He stayed in her space, moving like a predator stalking its prey. His jab came like a bullet, slicing through the air with pinpoint accuracy. Selena twisted, dodging just in time.

    The air snapped behind her as his fist missed by a hair.

    Dummy surged forward again, this time aiming a straight punch at her core. Selena sidestepped, but his knee followed, rising with devastating speed.

    She barely managed to block, crossing her arms over her midsection.

    The impact was brutal. Pain exploded through her body, and she staggered, her arms trembling from the force. Dummy¡¯s strikes weren¡¯t just strong¡ªthey were precise, calculated to exploit weaknesses.

    Her mind raced, piecing together the enigma before her. Dummy¡¯s movements weren¡¯t just physical. The Tower¡¯s mechanics¡ªdesigned to save participants from fatal injuries¡ªdidn¡¯t seem to apply to him. Death, for most, was an inconvenience here. For Dummy, it was a tool he wielded with terrifying efficiency.

    How does his ability interact with the Tower? Selena wondered.

    Her first strategy¡ªa relentless barrage¡ªhad failed spectacularly. She couldn¡¯t afford to waste more energy without understanding the rules he played by. Or else, this ¡®Dummy¡¯ might just kill her with his ability if he decided she was worth it.

    I doubt that. This guy is here for Reynard.

    Dummy shifted, his stance fluid. He moved with unnatural control, and then¡ªhe disappeared.

    Selena¡¯s instincts screamed. She raised her arms just in time.

    Thud!

    A sharp kick slammed into her left arm, sending a jarring shock through her body. The blow had been aimed at her temple. If she hadn¡¯t blocked, the fight might have ended then and there.

    He¡¯s testing me, she realized, her arms aching. Dummy¡¯s attacks weren¡¯t just powerful¡ªthey were surgical, each strike probing her limits, waiting for her to falter.

    Selena gritted her teeth. Then I¡¯ll give him something to calculate.

    But her situation worsened.

    Dummy blurred forward, his fists glowing faintly with aura. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one faster and more ferocious than the last. Selena retreated instinctively, trying to use her footwork to create an afterimage¡ªa tactic she¡¯d perfected over years of training.

    But her body didn¡¯t respond as it should. Exhaustion slowed her movements, leaving her exposed.

    She raised her battered arms, summoning her last line of defense.

    Her wristwatch whirred faintly, releasing one of her sealed tools. A compact, high-density energy shield unfolded just in time to intercept Dummy¡¯s onslaught.

    His aura-infused fists hammered against the barrier with relentless force. Each strike sent shockwaves through Selena¡¯s arms, her shoulders aching from the strain.

    The shield held, but only barely. Selena¡¯s thoughts churned as she braced against the relentless assault. She needed a plan¡ªsomething that would level the playing field, if only for a moment.

    Dummy smirked, his voice cutting through the din of their battle. ¡°A shield, huh? Let¡¯s see how long it lasts.¡± And with that, he redoubled his attack, the air crackling with the force of his blows.

    Energy-based artifacts capable of drawing power directly from another person¡¯s aura were rare, but not unheard of. Selena Fair had placed her hopes on the shield, betting that its advanced design would buy her time to adapt. But Dummy had proven himself to be more than it could handle.

    It wasn¡¯t just the raw power of his blows¡ªthough those were formidable. No, there was something else, something far more insidious. Selena¡¯s movements felt sluggish, her limbs heavier with each passing second. Dummy wasn¡¯t using super speed; she could tell that much. Instead, it was as if she were slowing down.

    Reynard¡¯s earlier warning echoed in her mind: ¡°Dummy has a weakness attribute.¡±

    Selena clenched her fists, her teeth grinding together in frustration. It wasn¡¯t mere exhaustion she was feeling. Dummy¡¯s aura was a weapon in itself, distorting her senses and draining her strength. Every strike, every step, seemed to sap her will to fight, as though she were losing control of her own body.

    Dummy smirked, his voice a low, mocking drawl. ¡°You must be thinking¡­ ¡®This is bad. I didn¡¯t finish him off fast enough, and now he¡¯s gaining the upper hand.¡¯¡±

    The words hit too close to home, and Selena¡¯s jaw tightened. She adjusted her stance, gripping what little remained of her broken shield.

    No. This isn¡¯t over.

    She locked eyes with Dummy, her glare sharp and defiant. If this was an illusion¡ªa trick of his aura¡ªthen she needed to remember that. But even as she told herself it wasn¡¯t real, the pain in her trembling limbs and the exhaustion weighing her down felt all too genuine.

    Dummy lunged forward, his axe-kick descending like a guillotine. Selena rolled to the side just in time, the crushing blow landing inches away. The impact sent shockwaves through the platform, carving a crater into the arena floor.

    Her shield clattered to the ground beside her, bent and sparking¡ªa useless heap of metal.

    Time was her enemy.

    Selena forced herself to her feet, her breaths shallow and labored. Dummy¡¯s abilities weren¡¯t just disorienting her; they were eroding her very will to fight. The Tower¡¯s safety mechanisms, designed to protect combatants from fatal injuries, felt like a distant reassurance¡ªone she couldn¡¯t afford to trust.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    More than that, the stakes weren¡¯t just her own survival. If Dummy won, Reynard would be next, and Selena had no doubt the Elsewhere Cult would turn that match into an assassination attempt. Losing here meant condemning Reynard to a fight he might not survive.

    Her fists clenched at the thought. The Association wouldn¡¯t help. Reynard¡¯s warnings about their indifference were fresh in her mind. In this arena, power ruled, and the weak were left to fend for themselves.

    Dummy chuckled, his aura flaring around him in a menacing glow. ¡°You¡¯re slipping, Fair. What¡¯s the matter? Feeling the weight yet?¡±

    Selena stepped back, pulling out a pair of shrunken uzis hidden in her belt. With a thought, she enlarged them. Without hesitation, she unleashed a hail of bullets, the rapid gunfire lighting up the arena in flashes of muzzle flare.

    Dummy didn¡¯t flinch. He moved through the storm with eerie grace, dodging the projectiles with fluid, almost lazy movements. Then, as if to mock her efforts, he began deflecting the bullets with his brass knuckles, each deflection sharp and deliberate.

    ¡°Surely, you can do better than that,¡± Dummy said, his smirk widening.

    Selena¡¯s frustration boiled over. Nothing was working. Dummy was always a step ahead, his overwhelming strength and control rendering her every move futile. The gap between them felt like a chasm she couldn¡¯t cross.

    But even as the odds stacked higher against her, Selena refused to give in. Her mind raced, searching for a way to shift the momentum.

    Dummy stepped forward, his aura rippling with unchecked power. ¡°You¡¯re out of tricks, Fair. Face it¡ªyou¡¯ve already lost.¡±

    Selena narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the uzis. ¡°Not yet.¡±

    She adjusted her stance, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Dummy was relentless, but he wasn¡¯t invincible. Somewhere in his aura, in his attacks, there was a pattern¡ªsomething she could exploit.

    Her gaze darted to the sparking remnants of her shield. Energy-based artifacts¡­ fueled by aura¡­

    Her thoughts clicked into place. If Dummy¡¯s aura was suppressing hers, then maybe she could turn that suppression against him.

    Dummy lunged, his brass knuckles glowing as he closed the distance. Selena waited, her muscles coiled, and then¡ªshe dove toward the wreckage of her shield.

    Grabbing the sparking core, she redirected its damaged energy toward Dummy in a desperate gamble.

    The explosion of light and sound rocked the arena, and Dummy stumbled back, his aura flickering for the first time.

    Selena grinned through her exhaustion, determination burning in her eyes.

    ¡°Gotcha.¡±

    Selena Fair wasn¡¯t one to waste an opening. She tightened her grip on her uzis, unleashing a torrent of bullets that roared across the arena. Dummy¡¯s response was swift and unnerving. He stomped the ground, releasing a thick cloud of dust that blanketed the battlefield.

    Selena¡¯s instincts screamed at her. Dummy wasn¡¯t just powerful¡ªhe was versatile. The way he moved, the way his aura manipulated the environment¡­ it wasn¡¯t normal. Partial aura manifestation of multiple kinds wasn¡¯t unheard of, but Dummy¡¯s mastery sent chills down her spine.

    The Seven States of Aura, in their plainest forms, were already enough to make someone superhuman. With dedication and an affinity for certain types, an individual could hone an ability into something truly formidable. But what Dummy was doing¡ªusing multiple aura types simultaneously and seamlessly¡ªwas a feat most considered impossible.

    To confirm her suspicions, Selena imbued her Seeker Aura to her eyes, a risky move given her current state. The faint glow in her eyes revealed the unique patterns in Dummy¡¯s aura, solidifying her theory.

    Her hand darted to her hair, pulling free a hairclip. It shimmered as it expanded and reformed into a sleek hoverboard. Without hesitation, Selena leapt onto it, the board humming to life beneath her feet. She soared upward, narrowly avoiding a chunk of rock hurtling toward her. The rock was imbued with Caster Aura, its distinctive pattern unmistakable.

    Caster Aura¡­ Selena¡¯s stomach twisted. Rare, second only to Reader Aura, and devastatingly effective. If that rock had connected, Dummy¡¯s aura manipulation would have worsened her condition, further degrading her speed and reflexes.

    The dust cloud below exploded as Dummy launched himself upward. His brass knuckles glowed with Maker Aura, while his limbs radiated the raw energy of Fighter Aura. Selena cursed under her breath. Even in the air, where she thought she¡¯d have the advantage, Dummy closed the gap effortlessly.

    Her hoverboard sputtered unexpectedly, its power draining as if it had been sapped by Dummy¡¯s aura from a distance. She felt gravity¡¯s pull, her trajectory sending her straight into Dummy¡¯s path. His glowing brass knuckles arced toward her with deadly precision.

    Selena reacted instinctively, unloading another barrage of bullets. Dummy didn¡¯t flinch. He tanked the hail of fire and landed a crushing blow to Selena¡¯s head. Her vision blurred as her head snapped to the side, but her fingers moved with practiced precision.

    Her left ear bled as she untransformed the magnet-like earring she wore. In an instant, the small accessory expanded into a massive cube over three meters wide. It slammed into the ground with a deafening crash, pinning Dummy beneath its weight.

    Selena stumbled, her ears ringing, but a grim smile tugged at her lips. ¡°Worth it,¡± she muttered, wiping the blood from her cheek.

    The magnet, a Maker Artifact, had cost her a fortune. But as Dummy struggled beneath it, his brass knuckles stuck to the metal, Selena saw her investment pay off. She unshrunk her uzis, unleashing another hail of bullets at her immobilized opponent.

    Dummy¡¯s voice rang out, calm and mocking. ¡°Naughty-naughty.¡±

    The massive magnet began to crumble, breaking apart as Dummy flickered in and out of sight. His body shimmered with the telltale glow of Trickster Aura. In a flash, he reappeared, mere inches from Selena¡¯s face.

    Her breath hitched as she finally understood the truth. Dummy¡¯s left eye gleamed with the sharp focus of Seeker Aura, while his right eye radiated the eerie glow of Reader Aura. All this time, she¡¯d relied on her invisibility cloak to keep her concealed. But now, it was clear¡ªDummy had seen her every move.

    Dummy¡¯s smirk widened, his voice dripping with menace. ¡°Clench your teeth, bitch.¡±

    Selena barely had time to react before Dummy¡¯s fist came hurtling toward her.

    SLAM~!

    The arena buzzed with the energy of the crowd, their cheers and jeers blending into a cacophony that Selena barely registered. Her focus was locked on Dummy, who stood before her with an air of smug confidence. His nullification ability, Reynard¡¯s life, her own survival¡ªeverything hinged on this moment.

    Selena sailed through the air in ashameful arc, fumbled, recovered, and made a run for it.

    The problem wasn¡¯t just Dummy¡¯s strength. It was his mastery. Every movement, every strike, was precise, deliberate, and devastating. He was a predator, and Selena felt like cornered prey.

    Her grip on her uzis tightened as she circled him, mind racing through possibilities. Reynard¡¯s warning echoed in her thoughts: Dummy¡¯s ability works by distorting probabilities, erasing auras, and bypassing protections.

    That was the crux of the problem. Even if she could overpower him, the Tower¡¯s protections would revive or heal him unless she struck at the exact moment his nullification ability was active. It was a razor-thin window of opportunity, and missing it wasn¡¯t an option.

    Dummy blurred into motion, a streak of raw energy trailing behind his knife-hand strike. Selena moved instinctively, summoning a shimmering blade from its shrunken state just in time to intercept the blow. Sparks erupted as her sword clashed against his aura-coated fists, the impact reverberating through her arms.

    Her mind worked furiously as they exchanged blows. The arcs of energy weren¡¯t some supernatural power, she realized¡ªthey were pure aura techniques, honed to a level of mastery she¡¯d never encountered before.

    So that¡¯s how it is¡­

    Aura techniques were the pinnacle of control, the product of years of dedication and refinement. They weren¡¯t flashy or overwhelming; they were deliberate, precise, and deadly. Most fighters relied on raw power or a single signature ability, but Dummy was different. He had elevated technique to an art form, wielding it with a finesse that made him almost untouchable.

    Selena gritted her teeth as the clash continued, each strike from Dummy pushing her closer to her limit. Her arms ached, her movements slowing as the relentless barrage wore her down. It wasn¡¯t just physical exhaustion¡ªDummy¡¯s aura seemed to sap her strength, her resolve, even her ability to think clearly.

    If I can¡¯t match his technique, I¡¯ll have to outthink him.

    She tightened her grip on her blade, channeling her dwindling energy into a desperate counterattack. Sparks flew as their weapons collided, the arena lighting up with each clash. But Dummy¡¯s technique was relentless, and Selena was running out of options.

    Her sword shattered with a sharp clang, the fragments scattering across the arena floor. Selena staggered back, her arms trembling from the force of Dummy¡¯s blows. Panic surged as she realized her ability had been sealed¡ªher weapons refused to respond, leaving her defenseless.

    Dummy smirked, his aura flaring ominously as he advanced. Selena raised her battered arms in a desperate attempt to block, but his next strike crashed through her guard like a battering ram. The force sent her flying, the wind rushing past her as she hurtled toward the edge of the arena.

    Strong hands caught her mid-flight, steadying her just before she could crash to the ground. Selena blinked, disoriented, as Reynard¡¯s familiar face came into view.

    Bob¡¯s voice rang out, cutting through the din of the crowd. ¡°Out of bounds! Victory goes to Dummy!¡±

    Selena¡¯s lips curled into a bitter snarl. ¡°Fuck,¡± she muttered, her voice hoarse.

    She tried to shrug off Reynard¡¯s grip, but his hands remained firm. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough,¡± he said, his tone calm but resolute.

    A warm, golden glow enveloped her as the Tower¡¯s restoration magic began to heal her injuries. The pain in her arms faded, her breath steadied, but the sting of defeat lingered.

    Selena glared at Reynard, yanking herself free with renewed vigor. ¡°I don¡¯t need your consolation,¡± she snapped, her voice sharp but tinged with exhaustion. ¡°If you die, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯ll face Leora, so you better not die.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s expression softened, his eyes steady. ¡°Believe me,¡± he said, his voice firm. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough. I understand now.¡±

    Selena frowned, confusion flickering across her face.

    Reynard met her gaze, his tone unwavering. ¡°I needed to see his abilities firsthand, and you¡¯ve pushed him far enough for me to understand how they work. The gaps in my knowledge have been filled. I can handle him.¡±

    For the first time, Selena saw something in Reynard¡¯s eyes that gave her pause¡ªnot just confidence, but certainty.

    ~057

 058 King of Favors

    LVIII

    I stepped onto the stage, my boots clicking against the polished surface, and cast a glance toward President Bob. The crowd¡¯s eyes were on me, their anticipation on the edge. This time, I hadn¡¯t brought my doll. No distractions, no safety nets¡ªI wanted this fight to be on my terms.

    ¡°Before we start,¡± I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the audience, ¡°I have something to say.¡±

    Bob raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. ¡°Oh? This better be good.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a live broadcast, right?¡± I asked, scanning the arena for the invisible cameras.

    Bob nodded. ¡°Of course. Millions are watching.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I replied with a small smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s give them a show.¡±

    Bob sighed, waving a hand in mock surrender. ¡°Fine. The stage is yours.¡±

    Turning to face Dummy¡ªno, Karl¡ªI spoke with deliberate calmness, knowing the cameras would capture every word.

    ¡°My name is Reynard Bright,¡± I began, letting the weight of my words settle over the audience. ¡°I value my anonymity, but I also understand that in the Hunter World, secrets don¡¯t stay buried forever. So, I¡¯ve decided to come clean.¡±

    I took a deep breath, letting the tension build. ¡°Two years ago, my family was attacked by the Oval Mercenary Group. They were slaughtered¡ªby my wife¡ªas a consequence of their offensive. But the ones who orchestrated it, the true culprits, are members of the Elsewhere Cult.¡±

    I gestured toward my opponent with theatrical flair.

    ¡°Karl Arman,¡± I said, my voice ringing with authority. ¡°The man standing before you is one of their agents. He hides behind the alias ¡®Dummy,¡¯ but his real identity is a disgraced noble, over a hundred years old. He¡¯s living proof of the cult¡¯s twisted promises of immortality.¡±

    Karl¡¯s smug expression wavered, his facade beginning to crack.

    ¡°The Elsewhere Cult,¡± I continued, ¡°isn¡¯t just a rogue faction. They¡¯re a cancer, a group dedicated to summoning cryptids¡ªthose monsters we Hunters are sworn to destroy. To them, these abominations are gods. And they¡¯ll stop at nothing to bring their so-called deities into our world.¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± Karl roared, his voice laced with fury.

    For the first time, his mask of indifference shattered. The aloof predator who had toyed with his opponents was gone, replaced by raw anger.

    Good. That¡¯s what I wanted.

    ¡°They promise immortality,¡± I said, my voice rising, ¡°but it comes at a cost¡ªhuman sacrifice. They¡¯ve hoarded forbidden techniques and artifacts, their roots reaching back further than the Association itself. But here¡¯s the truth¡ªthey¡¯re rotting from within. Blind fanaticism has turned them into nothing more than a nest of deluded bigots.¡±

    Karl¡¯s aura surged violently, his patience snapping like a brittle thread. In an instant, he lunged at me, his fist shrouded in energy. The blow was devastating, aimed straight at my chest.

    It connected.

    And nothing happened.

    I stood firm, brushing off my chest as though he¡¯d swatted a fly. ¡°Is that it?¡± I asked, letting my words drip with mockery. ¡°Let me show you how that should¡¯ve felt.¡±

    His smirk faltered, confusion flashing in his eyes.

    My current loadout was limited¡ªjust three slots. Puppetry was disabled for this fight, leaving me with Connection, Homing, and Counter. The last one was a borrowed attribute, acquired through a deal with Geoffrey that had been risky but worth it.

    ¡°Tenfold Counter,¡± I murmured, the name of the technique rolling off my tongue like a death sentence.

    I mirrored his punch perfectly, down to every detail, but with ten times the force. Thanks to Homing, my fist zeroed in on its target with unerring precision. With Connection, every ounce of energy was transmitted directly into him.

    The impact was cataclysmic.

    My fist tore through his chest with ease, the sound of the blow like a thunderclap. I felt his heart in my grasp, its desperate beat faltering against my palm. With a single motion, I ripped it free, the organ warm and slick in my hand.

    Karl staggered back, clutching at the gaping hole in his chest. The crowd was silent, their collective shock hanging heavy in the air.

    I stared at the heart for a moment before tossing it aside with casual disdain. ¡°You wanted drama?¡± I said, my voice calm and cold. ¡°You¡¯ve got it.¡±

    Karl¡¯s voice was guttural, filled with rage and pain. ¡°I will kill you,¡± he growled, his aura flaring once more.

    I didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°You¡¯ll try.¡±

    Before my eyes, the gaping wound in Karl¡¯s chest began to close. His flesh knitted together with an unnatural speed, leaving behind nothing but the blood-soaked remnants of his torn shirt. In my hand, his heart still throbbed faintly, a grotesque reminder of the damage I had inflicted.

    Karl stood tall, brushing his mouth with the back of his hand as if the entire ordeal had been an inconvenience. ¡°Start the match, Bob,¡± he demanded, his tone as casual as it was arrogant.

    From his elevated platform, Bob scowled, his annoyance plain. ¡°Don¡¯t get too familiar with me, fella,¡± he muttered. Then, with an exaggerated wave of his hand, he sighed, ¡°Fine. Let the match begin!¡±

    The words had barely left Bob¡¯s lips when Karl disappeared. His speed was almost imperceptible, a blur that reappeared directly in front of me, his fist cocked back and brimming with aura.

    But I was ready.

    As his punch descended, the ground beneath him erupted with glowing ethereal chains. They coiled and twisted like serpents, wrapping around his limbs mid-strike.

    ¡°Soul Chains,¡± I said with a smirk, stepping back to admire my handiwork. ¡°Did you think I¡¯d come to this match unprepared? I deduced the finals and semi-finals would be held here. I¡¯ve had plenty of time to set the stage.¡±

    The chains glowed brighter, their spectral light illuminating Karl¡¯s strained expression as they tightened around him. For a moment, it seemed as though I¡¯d succeeded.

    Then, the air around him shimmered unnaturally. The Soul Chains flickered, their radiant form dissolving like smoke in the wind.

    ¡°What?¡± My confidence wavered.

    Karl stepped forward, completely unimpeded, his smug smile returning. ¡°Did you think such fragile tricks would work on me?¡±

    He flexed his aura, the oppressive energy crashing over me like a tidal wave. Before I could react, his hand clamped around my throat with inhuman strength, lifting me effortlessly off the ground.

    ¡°I will make your death slow and agonizing,¡± he snarled, his grip tightening.

    I gasped for air, the pounding in my temples growing louder. Despite the pain, I managed a choked laugh. ¡°Funny¡­ you should mention that.¡±

    With a mental command, I activated my Puppetry attribute.

    The ground beneath Karl shifted, and a pair of mannequin-like hands burst forth, gripping his legs with unyielding force. His eyes widened in surprise as the hands pulled him downward, the arena tiles cracking under the pressure.

    Karl¡¯s grip on my throat slackened as he instinctively tried to free himself. I dropped to the ground, stumbling back and rubbing my neck.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Checkmate,¡± I said, straightening my tie and forcing a smirk.

    The truth was, I¡¯d been standing directly above my doll the entire time. It had been hidden in plain sight, seamlessly integrated into the stage itself. Yeah, I lied about not bringing my doll.

    More Soul Chains erupted from the ground, spiraling around Karl in glowing arcs. This time, they wrapped tightly around his body, binding his aura with an almost palpable force.

    Karl struggled, his movements wild and desperate, but the chains held¡ªfor now.

    I studied him, considering my options. Forcing a confession about his crimes and his ties to the Elsewhere Cult would have been ideal, but I knew someone like Karl wouldn¡¯t break so easily. He likely had safeguards in place, protections against mental intrusions or coercion.

    Instead, I focused on the heart still clutched in my hand. It pulsed faintly with an aura of its own, a grotesque yet fascinating trophy of Karl¡¯s arrogance.

    With a thought, I commanded my doll to rise.

    It emerged from the cracked arena floor with eerie grace, its movements unnervingly fluid. The mannequin-like figure stood tall/ I turned my gaze to Karl, whose struggles against the Soul Chains were growing fiercer by the second.

    ¡°Karl Arman,¡± I called out, my tone laced with mockery, ¡°thank you for your generous gift.¡±

    The doll approached silently, its chest cavity opening like the petals of a mechanical flower. With careful precision, I placed the heart inside. The aura within it flared briefly, resonating with the doll as the cavity sealed itself shut.

    The doll¡¯s eyes glimmered faintly, signaling the fusion¡¯s completion.

    Karl¡¯s furious gaze locked onto mine as the chains binding him began to snap, one after another. Each break sent ripples of energy through the arena, a testament to his immense power.

    ¡°Your ability,¡± I began, my voice calm and analytical, ¡°is fascinating. It allows you to ¡®hack¡¯ aura control, doesn¡¯t it? Not so different from my own Soul Link, which lets me sabotage aura. The difference is, yours requires direct eyesight. Paired with your weakening attribute, it¡¯s a potent combination. You dampen your opponent¡¯s senses, then redirect their aura¡¯s functions entirely.¡±

    Karl¡¯s lips curled into a snarl. ¡°You talk too much.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I admitted with a shrug. ¡°But at least I am not the one losing¡­¡±

    The doll¡¯s chest began to glow, its newly integrated power humming with life. I extended a hand, my voice steady and resolute. ¡°Let me show you the consequences of your arrogance.¡±

    With a snap of my fingers, the doll unleashed its power. A brilliant surge of energy erupted from its form, engulfing Karl in a radiant wave.

    The arena trembled under the force of the attack, the air thick with the scent of scorched stone and burnt ozone. When the light faded, Karl lay crumpled on the ground, his aura flickering weakly.

    I stepped closer, towering over him. ¡°You wanted to make my death slow and agonizing,¡± I said, my voice cold. ¡°How does it feel to be on the receiving end?¡±

    Karl¡¯s chains groaned as more links snapped free, his aura surging with renewed intensity. The blue and white energy radiated from him in violent waves, making the air itself hum with power. Each movement of his limbs was a testament to his sheer determination, the last of the Soul Chains visibly straining under the pressure.

    I stood firm, hands clasped behind my back, my expression calm but watchful. ¡°You have an interesting power.¡± I began, raising my voice for the crowd and the live broadcast, ¡°With Selena, for instance, you tampered with her perception of time, slowing her reactions. In return, you amplified her sense of pain, breaking her focus. It¡¯s an impressive combination, Karl.¡±

    His glare intensified, his jaw tightening. The disdain in his eyes confirmed how precise my analysis was.

    I smirked, letting the moment stretch before continuing, ¡°And as for your vaunted regeneration¡­¡± I gestured toward his still-bloodied clothes. ¡°It¡¯s not even yours, is it? You hacked the Tower¡¯s restoration systems, forcing it to misread you as deceased. By faking your death, you¡¯ve exploited its healing protocols. Ingenious, really. And, of course, the referee or the technical team has no way of knowing unless someone points it out.¡±

    A ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the audience like wildfire.

    From his perch, Bob whistled low, leaning lazily on the railing. ¡°He hacked the Tower? Damn. Looks like we¡¯ll need the engineers to clean up this mess. What a headache.¡±

    Karl¡¯s movements grew more aggressive, his muscles straining as he wrested against the last of the chains. One by one, the glowing links snapped, the sound sharp and piercing like gunfire.

    Finally, with a roar, Karl broke free, his aura flaring in an almost blinding display of power. He launched himself at me, a blur of motion and fury. ¡°Your arrogance will be your death!¡±

    I didn¡¯t flinch, my gaze steady as his attack bore down on me. ¡°You are mistaken,¡± I replied, my voice calm and resolute. ¡°You are already dead.¡±

    For a split second, confusion flickered across his face. Then he froze, his momentum halting as he looked down. His eyes widened in horror.

    In the grip of a mannequin-like hand behind him, his heart lay bloody and torn, its weak pulsations slowing. My doll had slipped behind him with eerie precision, its silent movements undetected amidst the chaos, and ripped the organ free a second time.

    Karl staggered, clutching at his chest, his aura faltering. ¡°How?¡± he rasped, his voice filled with disbelief.

    I tilted my head, my tone as sharp as a blade. ¡°My doll simply used your attribute better than you could. Ironic, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    That was a lie¡­

    It was a ¡®sneak attack¡¯, plain and simple.

    The doll stood behind Karl, its movements fluid and deliberate.

    It raised the heart aloft, its fingers slick with his lifeblood. Then, to my surprise, the doll acted without my direct input. Its chest cavity opened like the petals of a mechanical flower, revealing the first heart I had already embedded within.

    I frowned, feeling the connection through our Soul Link. The doll¡¯s actions were precise yet autonomous, an unexpected deviation from my control. With an unsettling grace, it placed Karl¡¯s second heart beside the first, locking it into place with mechanical efficiency.

    The faint aura of the first heart flared momentarily, resonating with the second. The doll¡¯s chest cavity sealed itself smoothly, and it stood motionless once more, awaiting further commands.

    Karl collapsed to his knees, his aura dissipating like smoke in the wind. The once-mighty presence he carried was reduced to a fading shadow, his body slumping lifelessly to the arena floor.

    I stepped forward, studying him for a moment before turning my gaze to the crowd. The faint grin on my face grew into something far more menacing. My victory wasn¡¯t just over Karl¡ªit was a message to the Elsewhere Cult, broadcast to the world.

    I glanced at the doll, narrowing my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with you later,¡± I murmured under my breath. Whatever had caused this unexpected behavior would need addressing. But for now, my focus was on the victory.

    Straightening my tie, I turned to Bob, who was watching with an amused expression. ¡°Call your engineers, Bob,¡± I said. ¡°This Tower needs a serious patch.¡±

    Bob chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°I like your style. Messy, but effective.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond, my attention already shifting back to the audience and the cameras. My posture was unwavering, my confidence unshaken. I had barely moved from my place during the fight, except for the brief moment Karl had lifted me by the throat.

    Karl Arman was defeated, and the world was watching.

    By putting a target on my back, I should be able to protect my family, right?

    My voice rang out, steady and sharp, directed at the audience in the arena and the countless viewers tuning in to the broadcast.

    ¡°Hunt the Elsewhere Cult, win my favor, and I shall fulfill your wish!¡±

    The weight of my declaration hung in the air, rippling through the crowd like an earthquake. The silence that followed wasn¡¯t empty; it was heavy with anticipation, confusion, and intrigue.

    This was the true beginning of my counterattack.

    I glanced at Karl¡¯s lifeless form sprawled across the arena floor, his aura completely extinguished. He had been their desperation move, their trump card, and now he was nothing but proof of their failure.

    The Prophet¡¯s clairvoyance couldn¡¯t have foreseen this outcome¡ªnot with Karl¡¯s very existence distorting probability itself. His presence alone had been enough to blind their so-called omniscience, a flaw in the foundation of their plans. Now, with this broadcast, I was exposing that flaw to anyone paying attention, especially to the Cult¡¯s members.

    A spark of satisfaction flickered within me.

    I kept my stance firm, my expression unyielding as I addressed the broadcast with unshakable confidence.

    ¡°My name is Reynard Bright, and I am the King of Favors.¡± My voice carried the weight of truth and authority, every syllable deliberately measured to leave an indelible impression.

    ¡°I know a lot of things. I know a lot of people. I could move the world with but a word for what I know. My knowledge is treasure, and my favors are sacred. Hunters from all walks of life, I invite you to join my hunt.¡±

    The arena was silent, every pair of eyes and ears fixed on me. Even the restless murmurs of the audience had stilled as they hung on my every word.

    ¡°The Elsewhere Cult has offended me, and for that, they shall pay. The bounty I offer is three divine favors. No matter how difficult, I shall fulfill them to my dying breath. The target of subjugation is the leadership of the Elsewhere Cult. Lying before me is one of their three leader figures, the Hero Karl Arman. Now, only two remain: their Saint and their Prophet.¡±

    I paused deliberately, allowing the gravity of my words to sink in. My neutral smile widened slightly, a glimmer of amusement in my eyes as I surveyed the crowd and the unflinching gaze of the cameras.

    ¡°Of the two remaining leaders, I know the name of one of them... The Prophet. His name is Sebastian Moore, and he works in the entertainment industry as a powerful business mogul. Aren¡¯t I nice?¡±

    A ripple of astonishment coursed through the crowd. Gasps and murmurs broke out, and I made sure my amused smile reached every corner of the arena.

    ¡°Know this,¡± I continued, my voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. ¡°The favor I offer shouldn¡¯t be taken lightly. I possess knowledge of the location of Excalibur, secret treasures scattered around the world, details of cryptids, insight into advanced aura theories, and so much more. I may not know everything, but I know enough. Fellow hunters, I wish you luck.¡±

    The arena buzzed with energy, a mixture of disbelief and excitement. The revelation wasn¡¯t just a call to action¡ªit was bait. A lure for every ambitious, desperate, or daring individual who sought power, wealth, or knowledge.

    I turned to President Bob, tilting my head slightly in mock politeness.

    ¡°President Bob, would you please kindly announce my victory?¡±

    ¡°With pleasure,¡± Bob replied, his voice cutting through the tension with practiced ease. He stepped forward, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. ¡°The final victor for this match¡­ is Reynard Bright.¡±

    The crowd erupted into a roar, their cheers and applause echoing through the arena. The broadcast carried the sound to countless ears, but more importantly, it carried my message.

    This wasn¡¯t just a victory. It was the beginning of something far larger.

    As the cameras lingered on me, capturing the unwavering confidence in my posture and the faint, enigmatic smile on my lips, I couldn¡¯t help but think:

    This was the storm of butterflies, a cascade of chaos that would reshape everything.

    ~058

 059 The Calm

    LIX

    On the top floor of a high-rise building overlooking the city, an elderly gentleman leaned back in his leather armchair, a crystal tumbler of amber liquor in his hand. The muted glow of the television bathed the dimly lit office, casting shadows across shelves lined with rare artifacts and trophies of his success.

    Sebastian Moore, the Prophet of the Elsewhere Cult, watched the live broadcast of this year¡¯s Hunter Exam¡¯s final stage with a calm exterior, though his mind was anything but at ease.

    On the screen, Reynard Bright stood triumphant, his voice clear and commanding.

    ¡°The Elsewhere Cult has offended me, and for that, they shall pay. The bounty I offer is three divine favors. No matter how difficult, I shall fulfill them to my dying breath. The target of subjugation is the leadership of the Elsewhere Cult. Lying before me is one of their three leader figures, the Hero Karl Arman. Now, only two remain: their Saint and their Prophet.¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s fingers tightened around the glass. Dangerous.

    ¡°Of the two remaining leaders, I know the name of one of them... The Prophet. His name is Sebastian Moore, and he works in the entertainment industry as a powerful business mogul. Aren¡¯t I nice?¡±

    His jaw clenched as he set the tumbler down on the table. Bastard.

    ¡°Know this. The favor I offer shouldn¡¯t be taken lightly. I possess knowledge of the location of Excalibur, secret treasures scattered around the world, details of cryptids, insight into advanced aura theories, and so much more. I may not know everything, but I know enough. Fellow hunters, I wish you luck.¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. Arrogant.

    He reached for his drink again, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The future he had so meticulously charted fractured before his eyes. Multiple realities, carefully crafted probabilities, collapsed and shifted into something unknown.

    Reynard Bright had just declared war.

    Sebastian exhaled deeply, swirling the liquor in his glass. As the Prophet of the Elsewhere Cult, he was many things: a mastermind, a visionary, and a weaver of fates. He wielded influence like a weapon, his power built on wealth, connections, and foresight. Combat, however, was not his forte. He detested it. Problems, in his mind, were best solved with clever words and subtle manipulation.

    He glanced at the television, where Reynard¡¯s confident smirk lingered, even as the broadcast cut to a commercial. The King of Favors was an upstart, but he was not to be underestimated. His bold declaration had painted a target not just on himself, but on the entire Cult.

    Foolish hunters will come for us now, Sebastian mused, taking another sip. They¡¯ll chase our gifts of immortality, our treasures, and our knowledge.

    The Cult was not a mere organization. It was an ancient existence, a shadowy remnant of a time Before the World Ended. Their history intertwined with the Old Nobility, their secrets older than the ruins many sought to uncover.

    Setting the glass down, Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing.

    ¡°After a very long dark age,¡± he muttered to himself, ¡°it looks like the people have forgotten to fear the dark.¡±

    Reaching for the phone on his desk, he dialed a number, his fingers steady and deliberate.

    The line rang twice before someone answered, their voice sharp and businesslike.

    ¡°It is time,¡± Sebastian said, his tone as calm as it was commanding, ¡°to remind the world why some existences must remain in the shadows.¡±

    There was silence on the other end, followed by a single, low acknowledgment.

    ¡°Pull in favors from two of the Seven Extremes,¡± Sebastian continued, his voice colder now. ¡°Ensure they understand the gravity of the situation. Reynard Bright will regret ever learning my name.¡±

    He ended the call, leaning back once more. The Prophet¡¯s gaze turned toward the skyline, his expression unreadable.

    The King of Favors had declared war, but Sebastian Moore had lived through countless battles. The shadows he commanded were vast and deep, and they would not fall so easily.

    ***

    Bob leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. The Capital Headquarters of the Hunter Association was quieter than usual, though the tension in the air was palpable. The live broadcast of the Hunter Exam¡¯s final stage had stirred up more than excitement¡ªit had brought questions, whispers, and unease.

    In front of him sat Reynard Bright, his posture relaxed yet purposeful, as if he were perfectly at home in the grand office. Behind Reynard stood Atropos, her presence a stark reminder of the unusual dynamics at play.

    Bob sighed, breaking the silence. ¡°So, you don¡¯t want to be a Hunting Dog anymore?¡± His gaze flicked briefly to Atropos before returning to Reynard.

    Reynard met his eyes without hesitation. ¡°I changed my mind.¡±

    Bob leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. ¡°So how do you plan to fight the Elsewhere Cult? I¡¯ll be frank with you. The Association doesn¡¯t have any idea that such a Cult even exists. I suspect they must have connections to the Old Nobility. And just so you know, people like me¡ªpeople in this business¡ªwon¡¯t act so impulsively against them. After all, we owe the world to them.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°My original intention was to join the Dogs with my full awareness intact, in exchange for raising my position in the organization. My goal is to reach at least the level of a Director.¡±

    Bob¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. He could see where this was going. ¡°You plan to use your position as a Director to issue a Hunt Order.¡±

    Reynard nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Atropos stepped forward, her voice calm yet firm. ¡°But since he has me, I can issue it instead.¡±

    Reynard turned slightly, acknowledging her before returning his focus to Bob. ¡°Atropos told me that you planned to use me as bait for the Elsewhere Cult. Elaborate.¡±

    Bob hesitated for a moment, weighing his words. ¡°Well, I figured someone here would try to kill you. And if the Cult is as big a deal as Atropos made them out to be, they¡¯d probably succeed¡­¡±

    ¡°Probably?¡± Reynard¡¯s tone carried a subtle edge.

    Bob shrugged, his confidence returning. ¡°I planned to save you from imminent death while subjugating the assassin. It¡¯s a calculated risk.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Reynard¡¯s expression remained unreadable.

    Bob sighed, scratching the back of his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to overwhelm that guy¡­ Karl, is it? To confess, even I would be hard-pressed against someone like that. It¡¯s bizarre in many ways how you defeated him the way you did.¡±

    Reynard allowed himself a small smirk. ¡°Preparedness¡­ and cheating.¡±

    Bob raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ¡°Ah, yeah¡­ You buried your doll in the arena. It¡¯s a mystery how you pulled that off. We had stealth drones patrolling the area, you know?¡±

    ¡°Selena helped me sneak the doll in and bury it somehow,¡± Reynard admitted. ¡°It worked.¡±

    Bob chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°So, what now? You know the top three get a special reward, right? In your case, as the reigning champ of this Tournament of Fighting, you get one wish from me. Think of it as something like a divine favor.¡±

    Reynard leaned back in his chair, considering. ¡°I¡¯d like to not use it for now. I¡¯ll cash it in someday, but not now.¡±

    Bob studied him for a moment before nodding. ¡°As expected of the King of Favors.¡± He allowed himself a small grin. ¡°Or maybe more like a hoarder of favors.¡±

    Reynard¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile, but he didn¡¯t respond.

    The room fell into a comfortable silence, the tension momentarily easing. Bob couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the man before him. Reynard Bright was more than just a strategist¡ªhe was a force of nature, someone who bent circumstances to his will.

    And though Bob wouldn¡¯t admit it out loud, he was curious to see how far Reynard¡¯s plans would take him.

    ***

    Selena Fair stormed into the HAHQ parking lot, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor. Her piercing glare zeroed in on the valet, who looked as though he wanted to melt into the floor.

    ¡°Where is my fucking car!?¡± she demanded, her voice slicing through the air like a whip.

    The valet, a wiry young man who couldn¡¯t have been older than twenty, stammered, his hands trembling. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am¡­ someone took it¡­¡±

    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed, her aura flaring slightly. ¡°And you did nothing!?¡±

    The valet flinched, his voice quivering. ¡°T-they¡­ Uuuhh¡­¡±

    Selena took a deep breath, reigning in her temper. She could see the kid was scared out of his mind, and yelling at him wasn¡¯t going to solve anything. It wasn¡¯t his fault. No ordinary thief could¡¯ve pulled this off¡ªnot in the HAHQ parking lot. This had to be the work of a hunter.

    But still, how the hell does this place have such shitty security?

    ¡°Let me see the CCTV,¡± she ordered, her tone sharp but controlled.

    The valet nodded quickly, leading her to a control room. Inside, several monitors displayed live feeds and recordings from around the headquarters. The guards stationed there were an imposing bunch, their stances and the faint aura around them hinting at military backgrounds.

    One of them stepped forward, a tall man with a shaved head and a scar running down his cheek. ¡°The name¡¯s Johnson,¡± he introduced himself, his voice calm and professional.

    Selena crossed her arms. ¡°What happened to my car?¡±

    Johnson didn¡¯t flinch under her glare. ¡°Someone stole it.¡±

    Selena¡¯s eyebrow twitched. ¡°And you did nothing?¡±

    Without a word, Johnson gestured to one of the screens. The feed rewound, and Selena watched as a petite woman smashed the window of her yellow car. In the next moment, the woman was behind the wheel, zooming out of the lot like a bat out of hell.

    Selena¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°Who the hell is that?¡±

    Johnson shrugged. ¡°No idea. But whoever she is, she¡¯s fast, efficient, and clearly knew what she was doing.¡±

    He glanced at another screen and sighed. ¡°At the same time your car was being jacked, someone set the east wing on fire, multiple robberies were happening across the city-state, and¡ªget this¡ªa kidnapping occurred right outside HQ¡¯s main door.¡±

    Selena blinked, her retort dying on her lips.

    Johnson continued, his tone tinged with exasperation. ¡°So, yeah, sorry if your car wasn¡¯t at the top of our priority list.¡±

    Selena¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, feeling a flicker of guilt. She wasn¡¯t about to apologize¡ªnot yet¡ªbut the enormity of the situation was enough to silence her. She crossed her arms and glared at the grainy CCTV footage, her sharp eyes tracking every detail. ¡°Replay it. Zoom in.¡±

    The guard, Johnson, complied without hesitation. On the screen, the culprit became clearer: a petite woman with dark brown hair and striking red eyes. She moved with alarming precision, smashing the car window and slipping inside. Moments later, Selena¡¯s prized yellow car screeched out of the parking lot, vanishing into the city streets.

    Selena¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I know who that is.¡±

    Johnson glanced at her, his brow furrowed. ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Marah Maldave,¡± Selena growled. ¡°She¡¯s one of the Hunter Exam contenders. Made it all the way to the eighth stage before forfeiting.¡±

    Johnson nodded slowly, pulling up a file on his tablet. ¡°We¡¯ve got her on record. She¡¯s¡­ quite the troublemaker.¡±

    Selena threw up her hands. ¡°I swear!¡±

    Johnson¡¯s lips twitched in an almost-smile, but he quickly composed himself. ¡°We¡¯ll do our best to track it down, Ms. Fair. We¡¯ll coordinate with the police and set up checkpoints.¡±

    Selena rolled her eyes. ¡°You might as well not bother.¡±

    Johnson frowned. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Because my car has stealth technology,¡± Selena replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°By the time you find it, she¡¯ll have disabled the tracker and wiped the system clean.¡±

    The guards exchanged uneasy glances.

    ¡°But how the hell did she steal it?¡± Selena muttered to herself, pacing the small control room. ¡°The car requires my key¡ªone that¡¯s saturated with my aura. No one else should be able to use it.¡±

    Her fingers instinctively went to her jacket pocket, feeling for the key. When she pulled it out, her blood ran cold.

    It wasn¡¯t her key.

    Selena stared at the object in her hand. It was a near-perfect replica of her unique key, down to the intricate design and weight. But the aura? It was wrong.

    ¡°Motherfucker!¡± she hissed, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

    Johnson raised an eyebrow. ¡°Something wrong?¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t just steal my car,¡± Selena snapped. ¡°She swapped my key with this fake!¡±

    Somewhere, sometime during the chaos of the Hunter Exam, Marah had managed to get close enough to pull off the switch. Selena clenched her fists, her mind racing. ¡°How long has she been planning this?¡±

    Johnson crossed his arms, his face grim. ¡°Looks like this Marah Maldave isn¡¯t just some random thief. She¡¯s been watching you.¡±

    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°She¡¯s going to regret it.¡±

    ¡°Any idea where she might be headed?¡± Johnson asked.

    Selena smirked, her tone dripping with menace. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll find her. And when I do, she¡¯s going to wish she¡¯d never touched my car.¡±

    ***

    Marah Maldave¡¯s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, her crimson eyes flicking between the road and the mirror. The city-state she had just left blurred into the distance, its sprawling skyline reduced to a smear of light and shadow in the rearview.

    ¡°Such an ugly car,¡± she muttered, her lip curling in disdain.

    The yellow vehicle beneath her hands purred with a satisfying hum, its advanced stealth systems working seamlessly. The car''s exterior shimmered as she activated its camo feature, shifting the garish yellow paint to a muted slate gray.

    ¡°But yellow, seriously?¡± Marah grumbled. ¡°Such an ugly-ass color.¡±

    The memory of spotting the car in the HAHQ parking lot still irritated her. It wasn¡¯t just the obnoxious color; it was the audacity of its owner. Selena Fair. A Hunter who thought she owned the world.

    ¡°Middle of the parking lot, hogging two spaces,¡± Marah sneered to herself. ¡°Classic.¡±

    Her hand brushed over the dashboard, activating a few more features. The car¡¯s controls were sophisticated but not beyond her ability to figure out. After all, she had come prepared. The key swap had gone smoother than expected, and the aura-saturated fake had fooled Selena long enough for Marah to make her move.

    She pulled out her phone and dialed a number. The line clicked, and a familiar voice answered.

    ¡°I have it,¡± Marah said, her tone steady.

    ¡°Well done, Marah,¡± came Sebastian Moore¡¯s smooth reply. ¡°With the Hunting Dogs Initiative in our hands, we¡¯ll have more pieces to move. You¡¯ve done excellent work.¡±

    Marah¡¯s lips twitched into a smirk. Praise from the Prophet himself was rare. But before she could respond, his voice continued, calm yet commanding.

    ¡°High Priestess, lie low for now. I¡¯ll call you when I need you.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Marah blurted, gripping the phone tightly.

    A pause. Then Sebastian¡¯s voice, laced with mild curiosity. ¡°What is it? Is there a problem?¡±

    Marah hesitated, her usual confidence faltering. She glanced at the shimmering road ahead, her thoughts churning. Finally, she asked, ¡°Does our God have a name?¡±

    The silence that followed was heavy, like the calm before a storm.

    Sebastian¡¯s voice turned cold. ¡°Do you have doubts about our faith, Marah?¡±

    ¡°N-no,¡± she stammered, gripping the steering wheel with one hand as her other clutched the phone. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I was curious.¡±

    A low chuckle came through the line, chilling her to the bone. ¡°I see all, far and wide. Have faith, Marah. Salvation will¡­ arrive.¡±

    The line went dead.

    Marah let out a shaky breath, lowering the phone to her lap. The Prophet¡¯s words lingered in her mind, both a comfort and a threat.

    She pressed down on the accelerator, the car surging forward. Whatever doubts she had, there was no turning back now. The Elsewhere Cult had plans, and she was a key piece on their board.

    But deep down, Marah couldn¡¯t shake the unease gnawing at her. What if salvation wasn¡¯t what she thought it would be?

    ¡°Reynard¡­ yes, he must be lying¡­¡±

    ~059

 60 Before The Storm

    LX

    Inside the modest RV parked at the edge of nowhere, Leora sat at the small table, her blonde hair catching the golden hues of the setting sun streaming through the curtains. Her attention was fixed on the laptop before her, the footage of Reynard¡¯s recent match playing out on the screen.

    Between her fingers, she idly twirled a tarot card depicting The Lovers. Its delicate illustration caught the fading light with each rotation, mirroring the thoughts turning over in her mind.

    The Hunter Association¡¯s broadcast came to an end, the screen fading to black.

    With a soft sigh, Leora closed the laptop, letting the quiet of the desert evening settle around her. Her gaze drifted across the room to a sight that always brought a mix of pride and trepidation.

    Two-year-old Leon sat on the floor, his tiny hands cradling a flickering orb of fire. The flame danced and shimmered, responding to his movements with uncanny precision. His giggles punctuated the air, his joy at mastering this newfound toy infectious.

    Leora leaned back in her chair, a faint smile gracing her lips. Leon¡¯s aura manipulation was effortless, instinctive¡ªa gift far beyond anything she had seen in a child his age. She knew it was likely a blend of her own aura affinity and whatever Reynard had unknowingly passed down.

    Yet, with that gift came an enormous weight.

    Her smile faded as she studied her son, the tarot card now clutched tightly in her hand. The Elsewhere Cult¡¯s relentless pursuit of Leon was a constant shadow over their lives. She didn¡¯t know why they wanted him, but the thought of them finding him made her blood run cold. Reynard, despite his cryptic warnings, had been frustratingly tight-lipped about their motives.

    Leora frowned, bitterness bubbling to the surface. Reynard needed to be more forthcoming. He owed her that much.

    She folded her arms, the tarot card forgotten for a moment. When did Reynard even become a hunter? The question had nagged at her ever since their paths had crossed again. For years, she had assumed he was mundane, outside the dangerous world of hunters. But now? He was deeply entrenched in it¡ªenough to assign her babysitting duties, of all things.

    The sound of Leon¡¯s giggles pulled her from her thoughts. Her Seeker Eyes activated instinctively, analyzing the orb of fire in her son¡¯s hands.

    Her heart skipped a beat. The orb was growing hotter, its energy intensifying rapidly.

    In an instant, Leora was in motion. She scooped Leon into her arms, her superhuman speed carrying them both out of the RV in a blur. The heat of the orb pressed against her aura, but she didn¡¯t falter.

    Once outside, she gently pried the fiery orb from Leon¡¯s tiny hands. Her son squealed in delight, entirely unbothered by the dangerous situation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you like this, little troublemaker,¡± she muttered under her breath, focusing her aura on the volatile flame.

    Fire wasn¡¯t her specialty, but she¡¯d practiced enough to know how to diffuse it. Channeling her aura, she converted the flames into harmless heat waves, letting them dissipate into the cool desert air. It drained her reserves more than she liked, but the danger was neutralized.

    With a soft shimmer, the orb vanished, leaving only the faint warmth of the desert breeze.

    ¡°Whew,¡± Leora exhaled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

    Leon let out a triumphant cheer, his little arms flailing. ¡°Who~oooz!¡± he exclaimed, mimicking the sound of rushing wind.

    Leora shook her head, a tired smile on her lips. ¡°You¡¯re going to be the death of me, kid.¡±

    She carried Leon back to the RV, her steps slower now. By the time they reached the door, he had fallen asleep in her arms, his tiny form peaceful and still.

    Carefully, she placed him in his crib¡ªa special construct made of ore from the Forbidden Region. The material suppressed aura manipulation, making it the perfect safeguard for her precocious son.

    It wouldn¡¯t hold against an experienced aura master, but for now, it was enough to keep Leon¡¯s random outburst contained.

    As she adjusted his blankets, a sudden knock at the RV door made her freeze. Her instincts flared, and her hand shot to the katana resting within reach. Unsheathing it in one fluid motion, she approached the door cautiously.

    With her free hand, she cracked it open.

    Relief flooded her as she saw Stefan¡¯s familiar face. The older man, with his weathered features and calm demeanor, was a welcome sight.

    ¡°Leora,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°May I come in?¡±

    Stefan stepped into the RV without hesitation, his presence filling the modest space. Dropping into the nearest chair with a practiced ease, he glanced around before fixing Leora with his steady gaze.

    ¡°Your tails are either dead or they¡¯ve withdrawn,¡± he said, his gruff voice breaking the silence. ¡°Your husband did excellently in the exams. President Bob himself is looking forward to having him join the Hunting Dogs¡­ or so I¡¯ve last heard.¡±

    Leora froze mid-motion. The Hunting Dogs?

    Her grip on the katana tightened as anger flared in her chest. ¡°What? The Hunting Dogs?¡±

    Stefan¡¯s expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. ¡°Oh, so you didn¡¯t know,¡± he said, leaning back slightly. ¡°I thought he¡¯d already told you. Or maybe Selena? She didn¡¯t mention it either?¡±

    ¡°Whose idea is it?¡± she demanded, her voice sharp.

    Stefan shrugged, his tone infuriatingly casual. ¡°It¡¯s your husband, Reynard. I¡¯m guessing he plans to use the Hunting Dogs¡¯ resources to go after the organization targeting your family.¡±

    Leora¡¯s jaw clenched. The Hunting Dogs weren¡¯t just another hunter faction¡ªthey were an elite group, infamous for their ruthless methods and their policy of loyalty unto death. No one left the Hunting Dogs easily. She knew that better than anyone.

    ¡°No wonder he told you it would take roughly three years,¡± Stefan added, his voice tinged with admiration. ¡°That¡¯s some dedication.¡±

    Leora said nothing, her thoughts spinning. Reynard¡¯s secrecy, his relentless determination, and now this revelation about the Hunting Dogs¡ªit all painted a picture she wasn¡¯t sure she liked.

    Her mind drifted to her own time with the Hunting Dogs. The memories she had recovered were raw, vivid, and steeped in blood. According to Stefan, the organization had supposedly "tamed" since her departure, but Leora knew better. The Hunting Dogs didn¡¯t do tame. Her escape had been a miracle¡ªa rare, conditional retirement granted by the President himself after years of grueling service.

    And now Reynard was willingly stepping into that same den of wolves.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Steeling herself, Leora pulled out her phone and called Selena. If anyone could provide clarity¡ªor chaos¡ªit was her best friend. She put the call on speaker, allowing Stefan to listen in.

    The moment the line connected, the first sounds were unmistakably inappropriate.

    From the phone came sultry moans, rhythmic slapping, and absurdly cheesy background music.

    Selena¡¯s voice followed, dripping with faux passion. ¡°Awww~ rail me, Rey! Do it! Shoot it!¡±

    Then Reynard¡¯s voice joined in, slightly breathless. ¡°I am about there¡­ huff¡­¡±

    Leora¡¯s eye twitched. Her patience was thin but steady. ¡°Stop with the pranks, Selena.¡±

    A snort of laughter came through the speaker, followed by a dramatic sigh. ¡°So boring¡­¡±

    Selena¡¯s antics were relentless. Her shapeshifting abilities, ventriloquism, and penchant for chaos made her a natural at espionage. But her greatest skill was sowing discord wherever she went.

    Leora had grown resistant to Selena¡¯s games over the years, but Stefan wasn¡¯t as practiced. He was doing his best to suppress a chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he grinned.

    ¡°Get serious,¡± Leora said, her voice sharp. ¡°We need to talk about Reynard.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, fine,¡± Selena replied, her tone mock-dramatic. ¡°Way to ruin my fun.¡±

    Leora sighed, her exasperation growing. ¡°Is it true? Reynard is joining the Hunting Dogs?¡±

    Selena¡¯s playful tone turned more serious. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him. He¡¯ll be fine. And, for what it¡¯s worth, I entered a formal contract with him. You can trust me to have his back.¡±

    Stefan scratched his head awkwardly. ¡°Sorry, I slipped up about the Hunting Dogs part.¡±

    A familiar voice came through the phone, one that made Leora¡¯s breath hitch. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Stefan,¡± Reynard said. ¡°Leora deserves to know.¡±

    Her heart skipped a beat. ¡°Reynard? Is that you? Or is Selena playing some elaborate prank?¡±

    Selena huffed indignantly, but Leora pressed on. ¡°Can we do a video call?¡±

    Stefan interjected, ¡°No can do. This is the best we¡¯ve got right now. The cult that¡¯s after you has competent techies, and we can¡¯t risk them intercepting anything.¡±

    Leora narrowed her eyes at the phone. ¡°Reynard, prove it¡¯s really you and not Selena messing with me.¡±

    There was a brief pause before Reynard replied smoothly, ¡°You have a mole under your left breast.¡±

    Leora¡¯s face turned crimson. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the phone. ¡°Damn it, Reynard!¡±

    Stefan coughed awkwardly, pretending not to notice, while Selena burst into laughter.

    ¡°Oh, he definitely knows his way around you, Leora,¡± Selena teased, her tone brimming with mischief.

    Leora buried her face in her hands. ¡°I hate all of you right now.¡±

    But beneath her frustration, a small smile tugged at her lips. Reynard¡¯s voice, his determination¡ªit reminded her why she had fallen in love with him in the first place.

    Leora stepped away from the RV, her light attribute flaring briefly as she darted across the barren desert. She stopped far enough that the vehicle was out of sight and brought the phone to her ear.

    ¡°Reynard, clear?¡±

    ¡°Clear,¡± he replied, his voice steady.

    Her words came out sharp and fast. ¡°Are you really Reynard? The one I knew? Not some cryptid or shapeshifter?¡±

    ¡°I am Reynard,¡± he said evenly. ¡°No tricks, no doubles.¡±

    Leora let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°You¡¯ve changed so much. The hunter side of you¡­ I barely recognize it. But you owe me the truth. All of it.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± he admitted. ¡°And I will. Just not yet. I need to make sure you and Leon are safe first.¡±

    Leora paced the dusty ground outside the RV, the phone pressed tightly to her ear. The desert wind tugged at her hair, carrying with it the faint smell of sand and sagebrush. Her voice cut through the static on the line, sharp and unyielding.

    ¡°Do you know why the hell this cult is hunting our boy?¡±

    Reynard¡¯s response was careful, his tone steady but wary. ¡°Where did that come from?¡±

    Leora exhaled sharply, her free hand clenching into a fist. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, Rey. At first, I thought the hit was for me¡ªsome vendetta from my past. But after these last few months with Leon¡­ I¡¯ve realized it¡¯s not me. It¡¯s him. They¡¯ve been after him from the start.¡±

    There was a long pause on the other end, the silence heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, Reynard sighed, his voice laced with exhaustion.

    ¡°Because Leon will grow to become a powerful hunter in the future,¡± he admitted. ¡°At some point, the cult will clash with him, and Leon will burn them until they¡¯re nothing but ash.¡±

    Leora stopped pacing, her breath catching. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe, I know,¡± Reynard said softly. ¡°But it¡¯s the truth. The two of us¡­ we¡¯re meant to die. Ten years after Leon was born, we¡¯ll be gone. And he¡¯ll be left to face them alone.¡±

    His voice cracked, and Leora felt her chest tighten, the weight of his words settling over her like a lead blanket.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want that future for him,¡± Reynard continued, his tone thick with emotion. ¡°I¡¯m doing everything I can to change it. To keep us all together.¡±

    ¡°Is it¡­ a definite future?¡± she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Reynard admitted. ¡°But I can¡¯t risk it. I have to fight to give him a chance at something better.¡±

    Leora¡¯s grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles turning white. The enormity of what he was saying threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to focus.

    ¡°And you think you can stop it? Change everything?¡±

    ¡°I have to try,¡± Reynard said firmly. Then, as if to lighten the moment, he added, ¡°Besides, Leon¡¯s going to grow up to be strong, dependable¡­ and, well, a chick magnet.¡±

    Leora let out a startled laugh, the absurdity of his comment breaking through her tension. ¡°A chick magnet? That¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about?¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s not hard to imagine,¡± Reynard replied, a hint of his usual charm slipping through. ¡°He¡¯s already got the Bright family charisma.¡±

    Her laughter faded into a bittersweet smile. ¡°You better come back, Reynard. For me. For Leon. Don¡¯t you dare leave me to raise this ¡®chick magnet¡¯ alone.¡±

    ¡°I will, Leora,¡± Reynard said, his voice steady and resolute. ¡°I promise.¡±

    A heavy silence hung between them for a moment before Reynard spoke again, his tone tinged with regret.

    ¡°Leora¡­ I might not be able to contact you for the next few months. I¡¯ve been meaning to tell you about my decision to join the Hunting Dogs. I decided not to join in the end. But the hunt isn¡¯t over. To protect you and Leon, I need more power¡ªeither the strength of one of the Seven Extremes or the backing of the entire Hunter¡¯s Association. I¡¯m sorry for being so unfair to you.¡±

    Leora¡¯s heart ached at his words, a swirl of anger, fear, and pride rising within her. Her hand trembled as she held the phone, but her voice remained steady.

    ¡°When the fighting gets tough,¡± she whispered, ¡°you call for me, okay?¡±

    There was a pause, and then Reynard¡¯s voice came through, soft but certain. ¡°I will. That¡¯s what the tarot card is for¡­ isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Leora glanced down at the Lovers card in her hand. Its edges were worn, its surface faintly glowing with her aura. She¡¯d reforged it time and time again, shaping it into a weapon and a symbol of their connection.

    ¡°You better keep that promise,¡± she said, her voice cracking slightly.

    ¡°I will, Leora,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°I swear.¡±

    As the call ended, Leora stood alone in the desert, the wind whipping around her. She held the card close to her chest, its faint glow a reminder of the bond they shared.

    For Leon. For Reynard. For their family. She would see this through.

    The RV came into view, parked in the barren expanse of the desert. Slowing her pace, Leora stepped inside, her eyes darting around.

    Empty.

    Her pulse quickened as panic set in. ¡°W-what?¡± she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

    The sound of a flush broke the silence, and the restroom door creaked open. Stefan stepped out, holding Leon in his arms. The baby looked content, his cheeks flushed pink and his tiny hands gripping Stefan¡¯s shirt.

    Leora exhaled sharply, relief flooding her system. ¡°Gee¡­ I¡¯m overreacting¡­¡±

    Stefan raised an eyebrow, looking amused. ¡°What¡¯s that about?¡±

    ¡°You scared me, Stefan,¡± Leora admitted, brushing a hand through her hair.

    Stefan chuckled, shifting Leon in his arms. ¡°Relax. The little guy was fussing, so I changed his diaper. Figured I¡¯d give you a break.¡±

    Leora let out a soft laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing. ¡°Thanks. I¡ª¡±

    Her words were cut off by a sudden, sickening sound.

    Stefan¡¯s head exploded in a shower of blood and bone, his body going limp as Leon slipped from his grasp.

    Leora¡¯s Seeker Aura screamed in alarm, a visceral warning that sent her diving forward. She caught Leon mid-air, clutching him protectively as she rolled across the floor.

    The RV shook violently as a massive force tore through it, slicing the roof open with a sound like thunder. The cold night air rushed in, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood.

    Leora scrambled to her feet, holding Leon tightly. Her eyes darted upward, where the sky was now fully exposed.

    Stefan¡¯s body slumped to its knees, blood pooling beneath it. The figure behind him stepped into the dim light, his presence suffocating.

    Long, disheveled white hair framed a face marked by countless battles. His bare chest was a canvas of scars, and he wore tattered trousers that clung to his massive frame. In his hand, he held a single-edged greatsword¡ªa Nodachi that gleamed with menace.

    The blade dripped with Stefan¡¯s blood, its edge razor-sharp.

    Leora¡¯s breath hitched as recognition struck her like a blow to the chest. Her voice trembled, a mixture of shock and dread.

    ¡°Extreme Fighter Ranas¡­¡±

    The name left her lips in a hoarse whisper.

    Ranas tilted his head, his cold, unfeeling gaze fixed on her. The air around him seemed to hum with power, his Fighter Aura pressing down like an oppressive weight.

    ¡°Hand over the boy,¡± Ranas said, his voice a low growl that carried an edge of finality.

    Leora¡¯s grip on Leon tightened, her Seeker Aura flaring in response. ¡°Over my dead body.¡±

    Ranas smirked, the expression twisting his scarred face into a grim mask of amusement. ¡°That can be arranged.¡±

    Leora¡¯s heart pounded as she steeled herself, every fiber of her being screaming at her to protect her son. The air crackled with tension, the inevitability of battle hanging heavy.

    She wouldn¡¯t let this monster take Leon.

    Not now. Not ever.

    ~060

 061 Cornered Like a Rat

    LXI

    The wind slapped against my face as I sat in the sidecar of the motorcycle. Selena was at the helm, her hair whipping in the breeze as she maneuvered the bike with practiced ease. No helmets, of course¡ªaccording to Selena, helmets were for "nerds."

    "So," Selena said over the roar of the engine, her voice laced with curiosity. "You didn¡¯t join the Dogs in the end? What changed?"

    I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "What made you say that?"

    She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. "Just asking..."

    "Right." I leaned back in the sidecar, letting the conversation hang for a moment. "Where¡¯s your car, anyway?"

    Her expression soured instantly. "Some bitch stole it."

    I couldn¡¯t help but snort. "You? Tricked? Of all people?"

    "Shut up," she snapped, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "So, where to next?"

    I grinned, enjoying her irritation just a little too much. "I¡¯m thinking the World Wall. Specifically, the Northern Walled City. There¡¯s someone I need to meet."

    Selena¡¯s frown deepened. "We¡¯re definitely taking the train."

    "How about a plane?" I suggested, though I already knew her answer.

    She rolled her eyes. "Only government-approved airplanes are allowed to travel the airspace. You know that."

    "I could call in a favor," I said, a plan forming in my mind.

    Selena glanced at me skeptically. "A favor? From who?"

    "A mundane client I had once. He wanted to learn aura¡ªor at least the requirements to learn it. I gave him some pointers, and now he owes me a ton of money and a few favors."

    She snorted. "A mundane, huh? You really are something else. Most hunters wouldn¡¯t waste their time on someone like that."

    "That¡¯s their loss," I replied. "Knowledge about aura is still valuable in this world, especially with how the sects hoard it. That¡¯ll change in the next decade or two, though. A new generation of hunters is coming, and they¡¯ll play by different rules. Not to mention its pretty commons sense to most people that aura is not to be shared. I¡¯d say they are stupid. Bob gets it."

    Selena didn¡¯t respond immediately, but her silence spoke volumes. She might have been skeptical, but she wasn¡¯t dismissive.

    "So, the nearest military airport it is," she said finally. "What do you even want in the Walled Cities? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re going sightseeing."

    I smirked. "I want to make a deal with one of the Seven Extremes."

    That got her attention. Her grip on the handlebars tightened, and she shot me a sharp look. "You¡¯re joking."

    I met her gaze, my expression serious. "My intel says the person I¡¯m looking for might be in the World Wall."

    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed, suspicion written all over her face. "Who, exactly?"

    I hesitated. The truth was, I was after the Extreme Trickster¡ªSilhouette. But telling Selena that would only piss her off. Silhouette was her deadbeat father, after all, and that was a sore subject I didn¡¯t want to poke at right now.

    "My intel is vague," I lied, keeping my tone casual. "But I¡¯m confident it¡¯ll lead me to the right person."

    Selena didn¡¯t look convinced, but she didn¡¯t press the issue. "Fine," she muttered. "But don¡¯t expect me to bail you out if this goes sideways."

    I chuckled, the sound lost in the wind. "Wouldn¡¯t dream of it."

    The truth was, this plan was a gamble. My original idea had been to join the Hunting Dogs, rise through the ranks, and issue a Hunt Order against the Cult. It would¡¯ve taken me at least three years, maybe more. Loki had taken about as long when he infiltrated the Hunter Association ten years from now.

    But things had changed. My discovery of Atropos and the Hunt Order she facilitated had fast-tracked my plans. Now, the next step was securing firepower. The kind of firepower only one of the Seven Extremes could provide.

    And if I was right, the Extreme Trickster would be my ticket to turning the tide.

    Selena¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. "You¡¯ve got that look again."

    "What look?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

    "The one that says you¡¯re about to do something stupid."

    I grinned. "Trust me, Selena. This is all part of the plan."

    She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that I couldn¡¯t quite catch. But despite her exasperation, she didn¡¯t stop the bike¡­ and then she swerved.

    The wind rushed past me as I clung to the sidecar, Selena weaving the motorcycle through the barren highway like a woman possessed. Suddenly, without warning, Leora¡¯s boot lashed out, and I was airborne.

    ¡°What the hell, Leora?!¡± I barely managed to yell as gravity claimed me.

    Combat instinct honed from the World Tower kicked in. My current loadout¡ªConnection, Puppetry, and Homing¡ªcame to life in an instant. Aura strings flared from my fingers, latching onto the Soul Link tethered to the doll stashed in the sidecar¡¯s rear compartment.

    Using Homing, I surged toward the doll as though pulled by an unseen magnet. My trajectory was perfect. The doll sprang into action, catching me mid-air in a graceful arc. It rolled to absorb the momentum and released me gently onto the asphalt.

    "Thanks," I muttered under my breath, already moving to find cover.

    From my vantage point, I spotted three gunmen emerging from behind a makeshift barricade further up the highway. Selena had vanished, likely cloaking herself with invisibility. Moments later, she reappeared behind the gunmen, a blur of motion as she engaged them with deadly intent.

    Before I could join the fight, I felt it¡ªa soft click, the unmistakable pressure of a gun barrel against the back of my head.

    A voice, calm and deliberate, whispered behind me. ¡°Do you know what it feels like to have a barrel of a gun pointed at your head?¡±

    I didn¡¯t flinch. My fingers twitched, activating Soul Castling. In an instant, my body and the doll switched places.

    BANG!

    The doll¡¯s head exploded into a shower of splinters and debris, the high-caliber round ripping through it like paper. A second shot whizzed past my ear, close enough to feel the heat.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    I turned to face my attacker, my heart pounding but my expression calm.

    ¡°You¡­¡± I breathed, recognition dawning as I took in her long, dull blonde hair, emerald eyes, and the faint curl of smoke rising from the cigarette in her mouth. Her aura was overwhelming, radiating a lethal calm that could only belong to one person.

    ¡°Eliz-Beth,¡± I said, my voice steady despite the danger.

    The Extreme Maker herself stood before me, her trademark gun still trained on me. She was a legend, the most feared bounty hunter in the Claimed Lands.

    Eliz-Beth smirked, taking a slow drag from her cigarette before flicking the ash to the ground. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a sharp one. Didn¡¯t think anyone would recognize me this far out.¡±

    My mind raced. Facing an Extreme wasn¡¯t part of the plan¡ªnot yet. But if she was here, it wasn¡¯t by coincidence.

    ¡°What¡¯s the bounty?¡± I asked, buying time.

    She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. ¡°Who says I¡¯m after you?¡±

    I gestured to the smoking remnants of my doll. ¡°Just a hunch.¡±

    Eliz-Beth laughed softly, a sound that sent chills down my spine. ¡°Fair point.¡± She leaned in slightly, her emerald eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, kid. I like that. But guts only get you so far.¡±

    Behind her, the fight raged on. Selena was a whirlwind of movement, dispatching the gunmen with ruthless efficiency. But I couldn¡¯t count on her to bail me out of this one.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked, keeping my voice even.

    Eliz-Beth¡¯s expression darkened, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by something far more dangerous. ¡°I want to see if you¡¯re worth the bounty.¡±

    Before I could respond, she moved¡ªfaster than I thought possible. Her gun shifted, and I barely managed to summon my aura strings to deflect the shot. The bullet ricocheted off the strings, but the force sent me stumbling back.

    ¡°Impressive,¡± she said, already lining up her next shot. ¡°Let¡¯s see how long you can keep that up.¡±

    Eliz-Beth¡¯s bullets weren¡¯t ordinary projectiles¡ªthey were extensions of her will, manifestations of her Maker Aura. I had tried to puppet them, tried to wrestle control, but the sheer complexity of their construction was overwhelming.

    Her weapon was no ordinary firearm either. The oversized hand cannon gleamed in the fading light, an unholy fusion of craftsmanship and aura mastery. It was more than a weapon¡ªit was a statement of dominance.

    Eliz-Beth stood casually, her midriff exposed under her loose, comfortable clothing, as if mocking the seriousness of our battle. Her gaze swept over the remains of my destroyed doll, her boot kicking at the rubble until something caught her eye.

    The two hearts, still faintly beating, peeked out from the wreckage.

    ¡°Shoddy craftsmanship,¡± she said, her voice carrying a mixture of amusement and disdain. ¡°Clearly not made by you. This is Atropos¡¯s work.¡± She crouched slightly, her fingers brushing against the hearts. ¡°And¡­ these are identical. Creepy.¡±

    Her emerald eyes snapped to me, and before I could react, she leveled her gun and fired.

    The bullet tore through the air, a blazing comet of raw aura energy. I had no time to think¡ªonly to act. I thwipped a Soul Link, hardening it with every ounce of focus, and latched onto an overpass in the distance. The string yanked me upward, my body rocketing away from the ground just as the bullet screamed past where I¡¯d been standing.

    But it didn¡¯t stop. The bullet curved mid-air, its trajectory impossibly shifting to home in on me.

    Damn it!

    As I ascended, I worked furiously, imbuing Soul Links into the air around me. The intricate web of strings shimmered faintly, a lattice of aura designed to intercept the oncoming bullet. My chest burned as I drew on the coin hidden in my pocket, the stored aura surging into my veins.

    The bullet collided with the web, and my muscles screamed as I puppeted the strings to twist the projectile¡¯s path. It slowed, faltered, and finally reversed direction, hurtling back toward Eliz-Beth.

    For a moment, I allowed myself a flicker of triumph¡ªonly for it to die instantly.

    The bullet dispersed in a burst of light, and from the fragments, Eliz-Beth emerged, her body reforming as if she had stepped through a door.

    My mind reeled. She had teleported through her bullet.

    Aura strings lashed out instinctively, wrapping around her mid-air form. But they didn¡¯t hold for long. With a single pulse of power, her Maker Aura shredded the links like cobwebs.

    I was falling now, the momentum from my ascent spent. Gravity pulled me toward the ground, but Eliz-Beth remained suspended in the air.

    Her boots rested on what appeared to be solidified light, a platform conjured from her aura. She looked down at me, calm and collected, the predator toying with her prey.

    She raised her gun, the barrel glowing with energy.

    In that instant, I saw my death flash before my eyes.

    I had no more strings left to save me, no clever tricks to turn the tide. Falling helplessly, I could only watch as she took aim.

    And yet, even as the end seemed inevitable, a voice whispered in the back of my mind:

    Think, Reynard. There¡¯s always a way.

    I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth as I prepared to make one last desperate move.

    My aura reserves were spent. No Soul Links connected to anyone¡ªnot even Selena. The usual lifelines I relied on to siphon aura were severed. I was utterly alone.

    But I wasn¡¯t done yet.

    There was still the coin tucked in my chest pocket. A pitiful reserve of aura remained within it, barely enough for two or three Soul Links at most. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was all I had. Most of my aura battery existed in the doll¡ªmy last line of defense. And now, the doll was in pieces.

    Eliz-Beth didn¡¯t hesitate. She fired her weapon.

    The bullet roared toward me, a sphere of concentrated aura energy the size of a ping-pong ball. Its glow was blinding, its speed unmatched.

    I had no time to think, only to act.

    Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my right palm with the faint threads of a Soul Link, weaving it tightly like a glove. The bullet screamed closer. My body screamed in protest, but my mind remained focused.

    I slapped the bullet.

    The instant my palm made contact, I felt the searing heat of its aura, the immense pressure it carried. But I didn¡¯t falter. In the first microsecond, I latched onto it with the Soul Link. In the next, I siphoned half of the bullet¡¯s aura into myself, cycling it back into my body and the bullet itself.

    ¡°Soul Gear: Deflection.¡±

    With a twist of my wrist, I redirected the bullet. It veered away from me, its trajectory now aimed at the shattered remnants of the doll on the ground.

    Eliz-Beth¡¯s eyes widened in shock as the bullet spiraled away, her control over it overridden by my intervention.

    I continued to fall, the wind roaring in my ears, but my focus was on the bullet and the doll.

    The bullet struck the broken doll.

    Using the Soul Links I¡¯d attached earlier, I forced the doll¡¯s shattered pieces to reconnect. The process was crude, the craftsmanship rushed, but it was enough.

    In the same instant, I activated the Soul Link tethered to the bullet and the ability inside it. My consciousness blurred, my body twisting through space as I teleported into the doll.

    It wasn¡¯t elegant, but it worked.

    I reformed inside the makeshift fragmentsof the doll, my limbs awkwardly fitted into its jagged structure as if it was armor. It groaned under the strain, but it held. In my hands were the two hearts¡ªKarl¡¯s hearts¡ªthe Hero of Elsewhere Cult.

    They pulsed with powerful aura, the remnants of a life once dedicated to unimaginable strength.

    I didn¡¯t hesitate. Tossing one of the hearts upward like a grenade, I shouted:

    ¡°Soul Detonation!¡±

    The heart erupted in mid-air, a blinding flash of aura tearing through the space between me and Eliz-Beth. The shockwave knocked me backward, the doll¡¯s frame barely holding together as I stumbled.

    I didn¡¯t wait to see the aftermath.

    With what little energy remained, I turned and ran, the doll¡¯s clunky movements dragging me toward the edge of the battlefield.

    Behind me, the sound of Eliz-Beth¡¯s enraged shout echoed through the air.

    I stumbled into an obscure alley, my makeshift doll armor groaning with each step before collapsing into useless scraps. I discarded it, my body aching, my aura nearly drained. The shadows of the alley swallowed me, offering a fleeting sense of safety.

    My hand reached for the imaginary Moon Tarot card tucked into my mind. I needed to telepathically call Selena, to warn her, to regroup.

    But before I could focus, a sudden, sharp tug pulled at my consciousness¡ªnot from the Moon, but from the Lovers Tarot card.

    It was Leora.

    Her voice pierced through my mind like a scream:

    ¡°Reynard! Stefan is dead! T-the Extreme Fighter is here! And¡ª¡±

    The connection cut off abruptly, leaving me gasping for breath. But the Lovers card wasn¡¯t done. It dragged me deeper, showing me images, vivid and unrelenting, as if I were standing right there.

    Leora, holding Leon in one arm, stood in the middle of a desolate desert. Her Seeker Aura shimmered faintly, barely enough to keep her alive as she faced down an unstoppable force.

    Ranas. The Extreme Fighter.

    His aging, weathered frame moved with a speed and precision that defied logic. The massive single-edged greatsword in his hand carved through the air, its weight seemingly meaningless to him. He pressed Leora relentlessly, forcing her to dodge and counter with every ounce of strength she had.

    This wasn¡¯t just bad.

    This was catastrophic.

    I leaned against the alley wall, my breath ragged. The image of Leora¡¯s desperate struggle refused to fade from my mind¡¯s eye. I had anticipated a response to my stunt¡ªknew the Cult wouldn¡¯t sit idly by after I disrupted their plans.

    But this?

    This was far beyond anything I¡¯d expected.

    Had I been arrogant? Thinking I was in control of the situation? Believing I could outmaneuver forces that had existed long before I even understood what aura was?

    I fancied myself a god because I thought I¡¯d created this world.

    What a fool I was.

    Leora¡¯s voice echoed in my head, her desperation clawing at my resolve. My hands trembled as I gripped the Lovers card tightly, its edges digging into my skin.

    I couldn¡¯t leave her to face Ranas alone.

    But what could I do? My aura was nearly depleted. My plans were in shambles. The doll¡ªmy last line of defense¡ªwas destroyed.

    Yet, as the image of Leora shielding Leon with her body burned in my mind, I knew there was no choice.

    I had to act.

    I had to find a way.

    Even if it killed me.

    ~061

 062 Run & Gun

    LXII

    I searched my pockets, hoping against hope that my phone had survived. It hadn¡¯t. The screen was shattered beyond repair, rendering it useless. My only option was the Hermit Tarot card lodged in my consciousness. I mentally pulled at its strings, establishing a connection.

    ¡°Atropos,¡± I called, desperation leaking into my tone. ¡°Tell Bob I need to call in a favor.¡±

    And was I glad to give Atropos my card.

    No sooner had I made the request than gunfire erupted behind me. I dove to the ground, rolling as bullets pocked the wall inches above my head. My hand gripped the Hero of Elsewhere¡¯s heart, the faint pulse of aura within the organ surging into me. I drained as much as I could while making a break for cover.

    The sound of footsteps echoed from my four o¡¯clock. I peeked around the corner to find four men in tactical gear armed to the teeth. Their auras buzzed faintly¡ªmanufactured aura users, likely Elsewhere agents. They were good, but not good enough.

    I darted through the maze of alleyways, keeping to the shadows. Every step brought me closer to the edge of exhaustion, and I could feel Eliz-Beth¡¯s presence closing in. She wouldn¡¯t need long to catch me.

    ¡°Atropos,¡± I called again, my mind brushing against hers through the Tarot card connection.

    ¡°Where are you? I sense distress in your psyche,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Tell Bob I need the World Path,¡± I said, vaulting onto a second-floor veranda. My doll-armor-enhanced limbs propelled me upward, giving me the agility to parkour to the rooftops.

    Atropos¡¯s voice softened. ¡°Copy that.¡±

    Switching gears, I reached for the Moon Tarot card to contact Selena. ¡°Selena, it¡¯s me. How are you holding up?¡±

    Her voice was sharp and bitter. ¡°What the hell is the Extreme Maker doing here? Isn¡¯t she supposed to be in the Forbidden Region?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought too,¡± I admitted, leaping to another rooftop. ¡°Guess we were wrong. The Cult moved her, and now we¡¯re paying for it.¡±

    Selena cursed. ¡°That bitch pinned me down. She¡¯s on a solid light platform with a sniper rifle. I can¡¯t even get close.¡±

    Through the Tarot link, an image of Selena crouched behind a pile of vehicles flashed in my mind. Eliz-Beth loomed above, her weapon gleaming in the sunlight.

    Just then, Atropos chimed in. ¡°Bob¡¯s approved it. The World Path is warming up, but I¡¯ll need coordinates.¡±

    Selena groaned. ¡°I don¡¯t have a device on me! Reynard?¡±

    I winced. ¡°My phone¡¯s toast. Selena, aren¡¯t you supposed to be the tech-y between us?¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°Tech-y? I steal my gear! I don¡¯t read coordinates!¡±

    ¡°Atropos,¡± I said, exasperated. ¡°Can you work with Highway 61? That¡¯s the only clue we¡¯ve got.¡±

    There was a pause before Atropos replied, ¡°Triangulating. Got it.¡±

    Selena grumbled. ¡°Fast as always.¡±

    ¡°Unlike you,¡± Atropos quipped, ¡°I¡¯m literate and know my stuff.¡±

    I clenched my teeth as I ran, gunfire whizzing past. ¡°Selena, let¡¯s regroup. I can feel your direction.¡±

    ¡°Same here,¡± she replied.

    Atropos¡¯s tone grew sharper. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on the sky. Once you regroup, hold your ground. My dolls are en route¡ªthree minutes tops.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s not enough. Leora and Leon are in danger.¡±

    There was a pause before Atropos answered, her voice hesitant. ¡°I¡¯ll have the World Path ready, but be warned, Reynard: I¡¯ve trained it to you. If I decide this is hopeless, I¡¯ll evacuate you whether you like it or not.¡±

    Selena¡¯s voice crackled through the connection. ¡°What about me? Don¡¯t you dare ditch me, Reynard.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°You¡¯re facing Eliz-Beth, the Extreme Maker. Don¡¯t take unnecessary risks. If I¡¯m going to save my family, I¡¯ll need you alive.¡±

    Atropos interjected. ¡°Destination? I need coordinates to send you to Leora, but she¡¯s off the grid.¡±

    ¡°I have a plan,¡± I said, forcing confidence into my voice.

    I didn¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t exactly a plan. But odds were, it would work.

    Gunshots echoed like thunderclaps in the desolate cityscape. I ducked behind a crumbling ledge, then propelled myself upward with a parkour leap, aiming for the rooftop above.

    The moment I landed, a massive figure loomed before me¡ªa hulking brute radiating Fighter Aura. His fist swung in a wide haymaker, the sheer force behind it making the air tremble. I raised my arm to block, gritting my teeth as I felt the impact reverberate through my bones.

    Soul Link.

    In the instant our auras clashed, I tethered him to my web of threads. A quick twist of my leg swept him off balance, and as he stumbled, I snatched the handgun holstered at his side.

    BANG! BANG!

    Two precise shots to his legs brought him to the ground, incapacitated but alive. I didn¡¯t have time to waste, so I siphoned aura through the Soul Link, feeling his energy pour into me. My body buzzed with renewed vigor as I sprinted away.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    For my Soul Link to work, the other person needed to be alive.

    Bullets rained down from the rooftops. The telltale hum of Seeker Aura laced their paths, bending trajectories unnaturally toward me. I twisted mid-air, my doll-armor flaring with a diminished Soul Gear: Deflection, enough to redirect the bullets that would have otherwise torn me apart.

    My aura reserves dwindled fast, but I couldn¡¯t stop. The rooftops blurred as I vaulted from one to the next, using my aura threads to thwip through the air like a spider. Every second counted.

    Highway 61 was an urban labyrinth of derelict buildings, its concrete skeletons offering both refuge and peril. I crashed through a cracked wall, shards of concrete scattering like glass. Inside, two men setting up a sniper nest turned to me in shock.

    They didn¡¯t have time to react.

    I extended my Soul Link in a widening arc, using it as a sensory net. I felt the ripple of their auras before they moved. My threads had evolved in the chaos of this chase¡ªlonger, sharper, more attuned to the world around me.

    The first man raised his rifle, but I was faster. I closed the gap, my doll-armor-enhanced reflexes turning me into a blur.

    The second man bolted for me, Trickster Aura shimmering faintly around him. His movements were erratic, feints designed to throw me off. Impressive technique, but technique alone couldn¡¯t outmatch speical abilities.

    I caught his wrist mid-thrust as he tried to stab me, twisting it until he dropped the blade. A sharp kick to the inside of his knee brought him to the ground.

    I yanked him upright, using his body as a human shield just as the other man opened fire. The bullets thudded into his vest, and he groaned but remained alive.

    ¡°Sorry, pal,¡± I muttered, grabbing the grenade strapped to his belt. I pulled the pin and shoved him forward.

    The second man¡¯s eyes widened in panic as the grenade beeped. He dove out the nearest window, shattering glass in his escape.

    I pressed my back against the wall, bracing for the explosion.

    BOOM!

    The shockwave rattled the floor, dust and debris filling the air. I didn¡¯t wait for the smoke to clear. I leapt through the opposite window, landing on the adjacent rooftop in a roll.

    Selena.

    Her aura flickered faintly in the distance. I spread my Soul Links again, feeling for her direction, and ran with everything I had left. The bullets, the explosions, the blood¡ªnone of it mattered. I had to reach her before Eliz-Beth completed her hunt.

    The commotion on the overpass reached a fever pitch. They were quite far from the main highway where the ambush commenced. Gunfire and shouts echoed across the abandoned urban sprawl. I pressed myself against a crumbling wall, catching my breath, and reestablished the telepathic connection with Selena. Her voice came through the link, strained and laced with pain.

    "Bitch got me... bleeding abdomen. I¡¯m almost out of bullets, but I still have the invisibility cloak you gave me¡ª" She paused, cursing loudly. "Ugh, fuck¡­ it¡¯s destroyed. Bitch threw an EMP at me."

    I winced as I felt the aftermath of the electromagnetic pulse through my threads, a subtle electric tingle running along my skin. The air around me seemed to buzz faintly. I crouched deeper into the shadows of the alley, gripping the heart in my left hand tightly.

    "How far is she from you?"

    I glanced up at the overpass, where the chaos played out in bursts of light and sound.

    "Sixty-one meters... I managed to destroy her boots. That ought to slow her down... but I don¡¯t know how long I can keep this up."

    I gritted my teeth. Selena was running on fumes, and I wasn¡¯t much better off. I turned a corner, and my threads twitched. A presence. Someone was nearby.

    A lone operator stood ahead, barely visible¡ªher form blurred like a mirage. Invisibility? Unfortunately for her, my Soul Link feelers were more sensitive than ever. She hesitated, clearly not expecting me to detect her.

    I struck fast. A palm to her throat knocked the air from her lungs. Before she could react, I swept her knee with enough force to make it bend backward with a sickening crack. She crumpled to the ground, and I finished her off with a sharp blow to the face using the butt of my handgun.

    She wasn¡¯t dead, but she wasn¡¯t going anywhere. I knelt beside her, yanking her lower lip down to reveal serial numbers etched into the skin. Elsewhere Cult.

    The Cult wasn¡¯t pulling punches this time. They had operators with special abilities now.

    I didn¡¯t waste time. I linked her with a Soul Link and siphoned her aura to replenish my reserves.

    "Selena, I¡¯m moving. I¡¯ll get to you soon. Stay alive."

    "Trying my best over here."

    Her voice was faint but defiant. I scaled the side of a building, using ledges and fire escapes to gain height. From this vantage point, I could see the overpass more clearly now.

    Gunfire lit up the night, and I spotted Eliz-Beth standing tall amid the chaos. Her boots were sparking and malfunctioning, but she still moved with the predatory grace of a veteran. Selena was nowhere in sight¡ªsmart. She was staying hidden, buying time.

    I turned toward the next building, but movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. A group of armed men, tactical gear glinting in the faint moonlight, were moving in my direction.

    I fired a few wild shots with my handgun. My aim was garbage, but it didn¡¯t matter¡ªI just needed to make them dive for cover. Then, I ran, leaping across rooftops, zigzagging through the abandoned structures.

    When I reached the roof closest to the overpass, I clenched the heart in my left hand.

    "Selena, hang tight. I¡¯m sending a little gift."

    I hurled the heart with all the strength I could muster, timing it so it reached the peak of its arc right over Eliz-Beth.

    "Soul Detonation."

    Through Selena¡¯s connection, I saw the flash of the explosion from her perspective. Eliz-Beth looked up, her face bruised and smeared with dirt, her eyes wide with shock.

    "Son of a bitc¡ª"

    The detonation cut her off, throwing debris and dust into the air.

    Selena didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. She bolted, her aura flickering faintly in my mind as she moved. "That bought me a few seconds. Where are you?"

    "Closing in. Keep running. I¡¯ll find you."

    With that, I jumped to the next rooftop, racing toward the overpass as chaos unfolded below.

    The moment I rounded the corner, I felt it¡ªa wave of killing intent. My Soul Link threads quivered, warning me of danger.

    A group of grunts sprung from cover, guns aimed and ready to kill. They didn¡¯t hesitate. Bullets tore through the air, slicing toward me. I ducked behind a concrete pillar, cursing under my breath.

    ¡°Shit, this was a killzone.¡±

    My threads fed me more information: their movements, the way their fingers tightened on triggers, the spread of their positions. These weren¡¯t amateurs. They had me boxed in, and my options were running out fast.

    Then, out of nowhere, Selena swooped in.

    A grappling hook shot down from above, latching onto a beam overhead. Selena swung in with precision, grabbing me by the arm as she passed.

    ¡°Tuck in!¡± she shouted.

    I didn¡¯t have time to argue. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling the strain as she carried both our weights through the air.

    While we swung, she slapped something onto my left wrist¡ªa bracelet of sorts. Recognition flickered in my mind. I¡¯d seen her use a similar gadget during the Tournament of Fighting.

    ¡°Use it!¡± she barked.

    I raised my left arm instinctively. The bracelet responded, glowing faintly as an energy shield materialized in front of us.

    Bullets ricocheted off the shield, sparks flying. Without it, we would¡¯ve been torn apart mid-air.

    The grunts below adjusted their aim, their shouts blending into the chaos. Selena swung us toward a crumbling ledge, landing hard but keeping her balance.

    ¡°We can¡¯t hold this position!¡± I shouted, my voice barely audible over the gunfire.

    Selena smirked, even as blood seeped from the wound on her abdomen. ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning to.¡±

    Through the tarot connection, I screamed into the void of my mind.

    ¡°Atropos! Beam! Us! Now!¡±

    The grunts closed in, their footsteps pounding against the ground as they rushed to finish the job.

    And then it happened.

    A flash of white light swallowed us whole, blinding and all-encompassing. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had disappeared, replaced by nothingness.

    When the light faded, the chaos was gone.

    We were gone.

    ~062

 063 BladabadaBOOM!

    LXIII

    The desert stretched endlessly, a sea of golden sand glinting under the harsh sun. Pieces of the RV lay scattered, shredded into unrecognizable debris by Ranas¡¯s aura blade. He stood amidst the wreckage, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the destruction.

    His Nodachi, massive and gleaming, rested casually on his shoulder. Despite his aged appearance, every movement he made was precise, calculated, and filled with an unnerving ease.

    Ranas was old, and he knew his time was running out. His body had already begun to falter under the weight of the years. That was why, when the Elsewhere Cult promised him immortality in exchange for completing an errand, he hadn¡¯t hesitated.

    Few organizations in the world could promise such a thing, and fewer still had the means to deliver. The Elsewhere Cult, however, boasted the most stable method. And for a man like Ranas, who had spent his life mastering the blade, the thought of living forever to perfect his art was irresistible.

    He narrowed his eyes, scanning the sandstorm kicked up by his last strike. His target was somewhere within the swirling haze.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re still here, Leora of the Guiding Light.¡±

    A flash of gold burst through the storm, the telltale glint of her katana.

    Ranas pivoted smoothly, parrying the strike with a resonating clang. He followed up with an overhead swing, the force of his blade cleaving through the air and sending shockwaves rippling through the sand.

    Leora danced out of reach, her movements quick and fluid. She wielded her katana in one hand, her other arm cradling her young son protectively.

    The battle was a deadly dance, Leora flickering in and out of sight like a mirage. Each of Ranas¡¯s swings tore through the air with enough force to raise walls of sand, but none found their mark.

    ¡°Give up the boy, and you might live a little longer.¡±

    Leora didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she reappeared at his flank, her blade flashing in a swift arc aimed at his neck.

    Ranas ducked effortlessly, countering with a horizontal swing that would have cleaved a lesser opponent in two. But Leora vanished again, her form dissolving into a blur as she retreated.

    This time, she didn¡¯t reappear. She ran.

    Ranas¡¯s lips curled into a grim smile.

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±

    Aura was many things. It could enhance the body, project energy, and manipulate the environment in ways that defied physics. The Seven States alone allowed for a myriad of superhuman feats.

    But developing Special Abilities¡ªthose unique to an individual¡ªwas the pinnacle of aura mastery.

    For the Seven Extremes, their abilities had been refined to such an extent that they were unrivaled within their specific categories. In Ranas¡¯s case, his ability to amplify his strength had reached a level that made him unmatched in raw power.

    ¡°Peerless Rival.¡±

    The moment he invoked his ability, the world around him seemed to shift. His speed, already formidable, multiplied in an instant. He became a blur, matching Leora¡¯s speed with ease.

    He closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    Leora glanced back, her golden aura flaring as she tried to push herself further. But Ranas was relentless. With a single swing of his Nodachi, he unleashed a wave of destructive force that tore through the dunes, sending sand cascading into the air.

    The sun blazed mercilessly over the desert, and the air shimmered with heatwaves. Sand shifted underfoot as Ranas faced Leora, his massive Nodachi gleaming in his hands.

    Ranas¡¯s aura flared, crackling like invisible flames.

    ¡°No one is faster or stronger than me. That¡¯s just a simple fact of life.¡±

    The weight of his presence alone pressed against Leora, whose breathing had grown labored. Beads of sweat dripped from her brow, mixing with the fine grains of sand clinging to her skin.

    Leora¡¯s katana trembled slightly in her grip, but her stance remained firm. Despite the strain in her movements, she had managed to parry and evade his last attack by a hair¡¯s breadth.

    Ranas grinned, his voice low and taunting.

    ¡°You make a fine struggle, but you will lose.¡±

    Leora didn¡¯t respond immediately. Her chest heaved as she struggled to steady her breathing. She was clearly pushing herself to her limit, and Ranas could see it.

    ¡°The rumors about you don¡¯t lie. Your way with aura is excellent. But the things you can do? They¡¯re commonplace in the Forbidden Region.¡±

    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed, and her grip on her katana tightened.

    ¡°You speak of the Forbidden Region as if you are its equal. Last I heard, another expedition is underway¡­¡±

    Ranas chuckled, a deep and gravelly sound that seemed to rumble through the desert.

    ¡°Silly child, no one is equal to the Forbidden Region.¡±

    He adjusted his stance, casually twirling the Nodachi in one hand before letting it rest against his shoulder.

    ¡°If anything, it is you who has been coddled. The real strong roam the Forbidden Region unhindered. Your so-called ¡®expeditions¡¯? They¡¯re nothing but excuses for you sheltered hunters to boost each other¡¯s egos. Those who persevere may join the ranks of the strong. The rest? Deadweight.¡±

    Leora¡¯s jaw tightened. She knew he was trying to get into her head, but his words still stung.

    ¡°Coddled? Me? You don¡¯t know anything about me.¡±

    Her voice was sharp, cutting through the desert winds.

    Ranas raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Yes, coddled. To most hunters, the world is divided into two: the Claimed Lands and the Forbidden Region. But you¡¯re wrong. The world is far bigger than that.¡±

    He took a step forward, his aura intensifying. The ground beneath him cracked, and the air seemed to hum with energy.

    ¡°The Forbidden Region isn¡¯t just a place. It¡¯s countless rifts, floating islands, and worlds of unspeakable imagination¡ªthings you could never comprehend.¡±

    Leora¡¯s silence stretched, her gaze locked on him as if trying to decipher the truth in his words.

    Ranas continued. ¡°And that¡¯s why it¡¯s a pity. Someone with your talent could challenge the Forbidden Region and become something far greater.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong about me, Ranas.¡± Leora finally spoke, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.  ¡°I¡¯ve faced horrors that would make even the strongest of your ¡®forbidden¡¯ wanderers falter.¡±

    Ranas laughed again, the sound echoing across the dunes. ¡°Perhaps. But here you are, running. And here I am, proving why I¡¯m called the Extreme Fighter.¡± With those words, Ranas entered his fighting stance. His Nodachi glowed faintly as his aura surged, and his body seemed to shift, taking on the attributes of his opponent.

    ¡°The Peerless Rival makes me faster, stronger, and better than anyone I face. That¡¯s just how it works. You should know by now, running is futile.¡±

    Leora flickered in and out of view, her speed leaving afterimages that shimmered like mirages in the heat.

    ¡°Lightspeed.¡± She darted away, sand scattering in her wake. But Ranas was already moving, his speed matching hers¡ªand surpassing it. His Peerless Rival ability allowed him to replicate her speed and amplify it exponentially, leaving no room for escape.

    ¡°Enough of this,¡± he growled, raising his Nodachi high above his head.

    His aura surged, and with a swift motion, he brought the blade down in an overhead swing.

    ¡°Aura Blade.¡±

    A crescent of pure energy erupted from the Nodachi, cutting through the air with a deafening hum. The Aura Blade was a devastating combination of technique and Special Ability¡ªa lethal move that extended the reach of his blade far beyond its physical limits.

    Leora twisted mid-step, her instincts sharper than ever. She flickered again, dodging the incoming strike as the Aura Blade carved a trench into the sand.

    Ranas smirked.

    ¡°You¡¯re delaying the inevitable.¡±

    The Aura Blade didn¡¯t stop after missing its mark. With a flick of his wrist, Ranas manipulated the energy slash, causing it to veer and home in on Leora. The glowing arc of energy sliced through the air like a predator chasing its prey.

    Leora¡¯s breath hitched, but she didn¡¯t falter.

    ¡°Not yet.¡±

    She swiveled, her movements graceful and precise, changing angles to sidestep both Ranas and the Aura Blade. Her katana flashed in the sunlight as she hurled it at the incoming energy slash.

    The blade struck true, intercepting the Aura Blade mid-flight and stopping it in its tracks. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the desert, scattering sand in every direction. However, not without paying the cost. Leora¡¯s sword cracked under the immense pressure, the blade fracturing along its length with a sharp, splintering sound. She hesitated for only a moment before releasing the hilt, letting the ruined weapon fall to the ground.

    Ranas raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got skill, I¡¯ll give you that. But skill only gets you so far.¡±

    In the momentary lull, Leora reappeared in his blind spot, holding her baby tightly with both hands.

    Ranas sensed the shift and turned, his aura flaring defensively. What he didn¡¯t expect was the infant¡¯s wide-eyed focus¡ªand the growing fireball forming in the baby¡¯s tiny hands.

    ¡°BladabaBOOM!¡±

    The fireball launched with surprising force, its intensity catching even Ranas off guard. The concentrated blast of heat and energy struck him square in the chest, sending him skidding backward. His aura shield cracked under the impact, and for the first time, his footing faltered.

    Smoke and fire filled the air as Ranas steadied himself, brushing the soot from his tattered robes.

    ¡°A baby... with that much firepower?¡±

    He glanced at Leora, who was already moving, her speed once again unmatched as she darted away with her child.

    Ranas tightened his grip on his Nodachi, his aura flaring anew.

    ¡°Interesting. Very interesting. This might be more fun than I thought.¡±

    With a deep breath, he infused his aura into the blade, the energy humming as it resonated with the metal. The weapon began to glow faintly before splitting in two, the long Nodachi transforming into a Katana and a Wakizashi.

    "Be honored," Ranas said, his voice low and steady.

    Leora¡¯s gaze narrowed, her breathing ragged as she cradled her infant son against her chest. She didn¡¯t reply, her focus solely on the battle ahead.

    Ranas raised both blades, his aura crackling like static electricity. He swung them in a wide arc, their edges cutting through the air with a sound like tearing fabric. ¡°Tempest Blade!¡± he roared.

    The storm-like barrage of cuts erupted around him, a whirlwind of slashes that lashed out in every direction. Sand flew into the air, caught in the tempest, creating a chaotic curtain that obscured the battlefield. Leora darted to the side, her speed a blur as she activated her Special Ability.

    ¡°Lightspeed!¡±

    Her form flickered in and out of view as she attempted to dodge the storm of attacks, but the onslaught was relentless. The cuts began to accumulate, slicing into her arms and legs. Blood stained her tattered clothes as she shielded her son, twisting her body to take the brunt of the attacks.

    Ranas frowned, watching her movements with a calculating gaze.

    Despite her determination, her speed wasn¡¯t enough to completely evade his strikes. He adjusted his swings, each cut more precise, more focused.

    ¡°Give up,¡± Ranas said coldly, his voice cutting through the storm.

    Leora didn¡¯t respond, her face a mask of defiance. She spun, narrowly avoiding another slash, her katana long discarded after its destruction earlier in the fight.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t you,¡± Ranas continued, his tone almost mocking. ¡°A warrior like you should know when the battle is lost.¡±

    He moved faster now, creating afterimages of himself as he circled her. Each strike came from a different direction, forcing Leora to move erratically to avoid being overwhelmed. Still, the cuts kept coming, her body accumulating more wounds with each passing second.

    ¡°Live to see another day,¡± Ranas said, his voice taking on a cruel edge. ¡°Give up. No need to persist.¡±

    Leora gritted her teeth, clutching her son tighter. She knew he was trying to break her spirit, to force her to surrender, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Her child whimpered softly, sensing her distress, and her resolve hardened.

    Ranas¡¯s gaze flicked to the infant, his movements slowing slightly. While the Elsewhere Cult wanted the boy dead, Ranas had no intention of delivering a corpse. He couldn¡¯t trust the Cult to honor their promise of immortality, but a living child gave him leverage.

    ¡°Give up,¡± Ranas repeated, his voice softer now, almost pitying. ¡°You can¡¯t win this.¡±

    Leora stumbled, her body screaming in protest, but she refused to fall. Her aura flared briefly, a golden light that illuminated the swirling sandstorm.

    ¡°I will never give up,¡± she said, her voice steady despite the pain.

    Ranas sighed, tightening his grip on his blades. ¡°Then I¡¯ll break you until you have no choice.¡±

    Ranas smirked, his aura-laden Katana and Wakizashi at the ready. He eyed Leora, her battered form trembling but still standing. Blood seeped from her wounds, staining the sand beneath her feet. The infant in her arms cried loudly, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade.

    ¡°Your guard is open,¡± Ranas said coldly. He made a simple stabbing motion, his Wakizashi thrusting toward Leora with deadly precision.

    The baby¡¯s cries grew louder, piercing through the chaotic battlefield. But then, something unexpected happened¡ªLeora smiled.

    A burst of white light descended from the sky, its brilliance momentarily blinding Ranas. Instinctively, he retreated, leaping back to put distance between himself and the sudden phenomenon. When his vision cleared, he saw two new figures standing protectively in front of Leora.

    One was a woman with dark brown hair tied back into a loose ponytail, her sharp eyes glinting with confidence. The other was a man in a crisp black suit, his dark hair framing a face devoid of emotion.

    Leora exhaled shakily, her smile widening despite her obvious exhaustion. ¡°The two of you took long enough.¡±

    Ranas¡¯s gaze darted to the sky, piecing together the source of the light. His expression darkened. ¡°That was the World Path, wasn¡¯t it?¡± he said, his tone a mix of curiosity and disdain. ¡°So¡­ the Association has decided to intervene.¡±

    The brown-haired woman gave Leora a once-over and raised an eyebrow. ¡°You look like shit,¡± she remarked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

    The man in the suit glanced at his wristwatch, his expression unchanging. ¡°Three minutes until the World Path recovers. We should be able to last that long.¡±

    Ranas let out a hearty laugh, his aura flaring as his blades glowed brighter. ¡°Quite arrogant of you,¡± he said, stepping forward. ¡°Unlike Leora, I don¡¯t need to hold back against you for fear of harming the infant. Who even are you?¡±

    The man¡¯s gaze turned icy, his voice carrying an undercurrent of menace. ¡°Just a deadbeat dad, trying to make things right.¡±

    As he spoke, ethereal blue butterflies began to manifest around him, their delicate wings glowing faintly. They hovered in the air, their presence eerie and unnatural.

    ¡°Now,¡± contemplatively added the man, ¡°How do you want to die?¡±

    ~063

 064 A Thread of Hope

    LXIV

    I did it. My plan worked.

    As the beam of light from the World Path engulfed us, I executed my gamble. I used Soul Link on the path itself, allowing me to hack into its flow. It wasn¡¯t something I had ever tried before¡ªhell, I wasn¡¯t even sure it was possible¡ªbut desperation fuels creativity. The moment I connected to the path, I mentally traced the Lovers Tarot Card, the one I had given to Leora weeks ago, and used it as a port for the teleportation.

    When we landed, my knees buckled under the strain. The World Path¡¯s aura pool had shared a fraction of its power with me, and while exhilarating, it left me disoriented.

    Ranas didn¡¯t waste a second. He lowered his short sword, his gaze sharp and calculating, but kept his main sword trained on me. His aura was oppressive, like a predator ready to pounce.

    I managed to conjure three butterflies, their ethereal forms glowing faintly as they fluttered around me. They moved in spirals, leaving behind faint trails of aura threads that shimmered like starlight. I could still feel my tenuous connection to the World Path¡ªa thread of power coursing through me. But it wasn¡¯t infinite, and I no longer had the doll fragments that once served as my armor.

    A sharp cry snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced at Leon, our baby boy, who was in Leora¡¯s arms. He was rattled, his little face scrunched up in fear as he wailed.

    Leora shushed him gently, her voice soft and soothing despite the blood trickling down her temple. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Leon,¡± she murmured, rocking him slightly. ¡°Everything will be fine. Daddy¡¯s here.¡±

    Her words made something in me tighten. Daddy¡¯s here. I had to make sure those words held true.

    To my left, Selena was rummaging through her utility belt. She pulled out a mini-shotgun, its compact form glinting in the faint light. With a flick of her power, she unshrunk it into a full-sized weapon. She glanced at Leora.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your weapon?¡± Selena asked.

    ¡°Destroyed,¡± Leora replied curtly, her eyes never leaving Ranas.

    Selena muttered a curse under her breath before pulling out a mini-longsword. She unshrunk it and tossed it to Leora.

    Leora caught it in one hand, inspecting it briefly. ¡°I¡¯m not used to a longsword,¡± she admitted, gripping it with visible hesitation. ¡°But it¡¯s better than nothing.¡±

    With Leon in her other arm, she pointed the edge of the longsword at Ranas. Her stance was unsteady, but her resolve was ironclad.

    I focused my aura, spreading thin threads from my fingers to the butterflies. Five now. The ethereal creatures danced in the air, their glow intensifying as the threads connected them.

    Ranas chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that carried no warmth. ¡°This is what you¡¯ve got?¡± he said, his tone mocking. ¡°A rattled boy, a woman holding a baby, and¡­ butterflies?¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond. Instead, I adjusted my stance, pulling the threads taut. The butterflies moved in synchronized patterns, weaving a lattice of shimmering light in the air.

    Selena cocked her shotgun, the sound echoing ominously. ¡°You¡¯re gonna regret underestimating us, old man.¡±

    Ranas¡¯s smirk faded, replaced by a look of mild irritation. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your breath. I¡¯ve already told you: no one is faster or stronger than me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, finally speaking up, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. ¡°But even the strongest aren¡¯t invincible. For example, even you have no resistance against the flow of time.¡±

    Ranas tilted his head, his expression unreadable. Then, with a burst of aura, he charged.

    This world was such a riot, huh? A fucking power fantasy where people like Ranas existed¡ªmonsters wrapped in flesh and bone.

    I couldn¡¯t even perceive his movements. One moment he was in front of me, the next, his sword was already swinging. If it weren¡¯t for Selena yanking me by the collar of my suit, my head would¡¯ve been rolling on the sand.

    ¡°Focus, Reynard!¡± Selena snapped, her voice sharp.

    She leveled her shotgun and fired an aura-infused round at point-blank range. The blast was deafening, the force enough to crack the air itself.

    Ranas caught the bullet between his teeth.

    Yes, his fucking teeth.

    He bit down, crushing the bullet into shards of aura and metal, spitting them out with a casual disdain.

    ¡°Pathetic,¡± he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

    He followed up with his short sword, a blur of steel aimed directly at my chest. My butterflies detonated in response, bursts of energy rippling through the air.

    Ranas didn¡¯t flinch. He persevered, slicing through the explosions with unrelenting precision. His intent was clear¡ªhe was going to decimate me.

    ¡°Move!¡± Leora¡¯s voice cut through the chaos.

    She shoved me aside, forcing Leon into my arms. Her movements were fluid, a practiced grace honed over years of survival and combat.

    Leora parried Ranas¡¯s sword with the longsword Selena had given her, then vanished in a flicker of light.

    ¡°Lightspeed.¡±

    She reappeared behind him, her blade already swinging.

    Selena wasn¡¯t idle either. She flicked three grenades from her utility belt, unshrinking them mid-air before tossing them toward Ranas with pinpoint precision.

    I twisted my aura threads, weaving them into a makeshift net to entrap and bind him.

    Leon clung to me, his small arms trembling as he hugged my chest. His fear was palpable, a reminder of what was truly at stake.

    Leora, ever the warrior, took the lead. She called out the name of her most powerful technique:If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Lightbringer.¡±

    Her longsword erupted in a burst of radiant gold, white, and blue. The aura around it shimmered with such intensity that it felt like staring into the sun.

    Ranas exhaled deeply. Just his breath was enough to sever my aura threads, shredding them like fragile silk.

    Then, impossibly, Ranas slashed down on Leora¡¯s sword. His main blade cleaved through it from tip to hilt.

    Leora let go of the sword just before the force of his swing could bisect her. She rolled away, narrowly avoiding death, but her weapon was gone.

    Ranas turned his attention to the grenades Selena had thrown. With a flick of his short sword, he deflected them at an angle that sent them hurtling back toward me, Selena, and Leora.

    I didn¡¯t see how Leora managed, but I reacted instinctively. Using my aura threads, I slung myself around Selena, using her as an anchor point to dodge the incoming explosion.

    I landed behind her, just in time to see her catch one of the grenades mid-air. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled it back at Ranas.

    The grenade detonated in a flash of light and sound, but Ranas emerged unscathed, his aura shielding him from the blast.

    He grinned, his eyes filled with a maddening confidence.

    I finally got a good look at Leora. She was breathing heavily, her expression nervous but resolute. Blood streaked her face, but she was still standing. Still fighting.

    I handed Leon to Selena, who cradled him protectively.

    ¡°Take care of him,¡± I said, my voice low.

    Selena¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Reynard, what are you¡ª¡±

    I stepped forward, walking past her, past Leora, until I was standing alone in front of Ranas.

    What the hell was I doing?

    I wasn¡¯t a fighter. Not really. I hadn¡¯t even awakened my aura for long, and I was barely scraping by with borrowed techniques and stolen time. I was just a mundane¡ªan ordinary man trying to survive in a world that didn¡¯t want me.

    But here I was, standing in front of a monster like Ranas, pretending I had a plan.

    Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I was insane.

    Did I think I was a big shot because I had a few bodies in my closet? Because I had a title among the lowlifes? King of Favors? The Author? Those names meant nothing to a being like him.

    A telepathic whisper tugged at my mind. It was Atropos, her voice clear through the link to the Hermit card.

    ¡°One minute and ten seconds. That¡¯s how long until the World Path can fire again.¡±

    One minute and ten seconds. I had to stall.

    I sighed, my eyes fixed on Ranas. My personal abilities weren¡¯t enough to kill him¡ªnot even close. But maybe, just maybe, I could distract him long enough.

    I asked him a question, my voice calm despite the chaos.

    ¡°Do you know this world didn¡¯t use to be flat?¡±

    Ranas eased slightly, his swords lowering by a fraction. Curiosity, perhaps? Or just indulgence?

    ¡°This world,¡± I continued, ¡°this post-apocalyptic hellhole, wasn¡¯t always like this. Once upon a time, it was round. There were countries, nations, civilizations. There were no cryptids, no rifts. Just humans, living their mundane little lives.¡±

    Ranas tilted his head, his gaze sharp. ¡°And your point?¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Then one day, the world broke. It didn¡¯t shatter from outside¡ªit ripped itself apart from within. The first rift opened, what the ancient people called the End of the World. That¡¯s how it all began.¡±

    His expression hardened. ¡°While your knowledge of classified history is admirable, it means nothing to me. Get to the point.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, leaning forward, my tone turning sharp. ¡°In this broken world, you¡¯re strong. No one can deny that. But if this were the Old World? You¡¯d be nothing. A nobody. You wouldn¡¯t last a day.¡±

    Ranas scoffed, amused. ¡°Of course I would survive. I am strength incarnate.¡±

    I shook my head, a malicious grin spreading across my face. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t. Nukes, Ranas. The Old World had nukes. You¡¯d be ashes before you even knew what hit you. Hell, even without nukes, you¡¯d die of social death. People like you don¡¯t thrive in a world of rules and order. You¡¯d crumble.¡±

    His patience snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve grown tired of your rambling.¡±

    Ranas shifted into his fighting stance, his aura flaring like a wildfire. The ground beneath him cracked, the sheer pressure of his presence making it hard to breathe.

    I matched his intensity with a laugh.

    ¡°Good. I¡¯m tired of this too.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s voice echoed in my mind.

    ¡°The World Path is ready. Secure Leora and the others.¡±

    I tapped into the Soul Link I¡¯d left on the World Path. The connection surged through me like a live wire, raw and volatile.

    ¡°Ranas,¡± I said, my grin widening, ¡°in this Broken World where the planet is flat, what do you think the chances are that the World Path will teleport you into empty space?¡±

    His eyes narrowed, his stance tightening.

    ¡°Considering the safety protocols of the World Path?¡± I continued, ¡°Probably zero. But exile to the furthest edge of the Forbidden Region? Oh, that¡¯s definitely possible.¡±

    Before he could react, I detonated one of the butterflies circling him. The explosion wasn¡¯t meant to hurt¡ªit was a distraction. The other two butterflies flitted around him, their threads tightening into Soul Chains.

    Ranas tried to move, but the chains bound him in place.

    The beam of light descended.

    ¡°What¡ª¡± he started, confusion flickering across his face as the light enveloped him.

    I flipped him the bird, laughing like a madman.

    ¡°Enjoy your trip, you overpowered fossil!¡±

    The light devoured him, his figure vanishing into the ether, bound by my Soul Chains and dragged to the farthest reaches of the world.

    For a moment, there was silence. Then, Leon¡¯s soft cries broke through, grounding me back in reality.

    I turned to Leora and Selena, my grin fading.

    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± I said, my voice trembling with exhaustion.

    For now, we were safe. But I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

    The silence that followed Ranas¡¯s disappearance was deafening. The light from the World Path had faded, leaving behind only the dull hum of wind and the faint cries of Leon in my arms. My chest heaved, my aura flickering weakly as the toll of my gamble set in.

    Leora limped toward me, her steps uneven, her face pale but determined. She placed a trembling hand on Leon¡¯s head, brushing back his hair with maternal tenderness. ¡°You did it,¡± she whispered, her voice heavy with relief.

    I shook my head, forcing a tired smile. ¡°We¡¯re not out of the woods yet. That guy... he¡¯s not the kind of problem that disappears forever. But at least we bought time.¡±

    Selena crouched beside us, her usual smirk replaced by a look of grim focus. She inspected Leora¡¯s wounds with a quick glance, then rummaged through her utility belt, pulling out a vial of something that glowed faintly blue.

    ¡°Drink this,¡± Selena said, handing it to Leora. ¡°It¡¯ll stabilize your aura. You¡¯re leaking more energy than you should.¡±

    Leora hesitated but eventually nodded, uncorking the vial and downing its contents. The glow from the liquid seeped into her, and some of the tension left her shoulders.

    As for me, I stood there, clutching Leon tightly, staring at the spot where Ranas had been. My mind was a mess of exhaustion, fear, and something else¡ªsomething fragile and persistent.

    Hope.

    In this broken world, hope was a dangerous thing. It could be a thread that held you together or a noose that strangled you. And yet, here I was, clinging to it like a lifeline.

    Leon shifted in my arms, his small hands grabbing at my shirt. He was so tiny, so fragile. And yet, when he looked up at me with tear-streaked cheeks and wide, trusting eyes, I felt something stir in my chest.

    A reason.

    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here,¡± Selena said, breaking the moment. She gestured to the horizon, where faint figures were beginning to appear¡ªmore cultists, no doubt. ¡°The World Path can only take us so far. We need a plan.¡±

    Leora straightened, her resolve returning. ¡°We keep moving. There¡¯s a safe house not far from here, but it¡¯s deep in hostile territory.¡±

    ¡°Of course it is,¡± I muttered, rolling my eyes. ¡°Why would anything be easy?¡±

    Selena shot me a grin, the edge of her usual humor returning as she handed me Leon. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, big shot? Don¡¯t think you can handle it?¡±

    I opened my mouth to retort, but Leon tugged on my collar, his tiny voice interrupting.

    ¡°B-butterfly,¡± he mumbled, pointing at the air.

    I followed his gaze and saw one of my ethereal butterflies still fluttering around us. Its glow was faint, but it was there, weaving a slow, steady circle.

    A thread of hope.

    I reached out, letting the butterfly land on my finger. Its glow pulsed, a soft warmth spreading through me.

    ¡°We¡¯ll make it,¡± I said, more to myself than anyone else. ¡°One step at a time.¡±

    Leora nodded, her eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched into her face. ¡°We have to. For him.¡±

    Selena smirked, her shotgun slung over her shoulder. ¡°And for us. Can¡¯t let this little party end just yet.¡±

    The three of us stood together, battered but unbroken, a fragile thread tying us to the faint promise of survival.

    Hope wasn¡¯t just a thread. It was a lifeline, and as long as we held onto it, we still had a chance.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± I said, adjusting Leon in my arms.

    And so, we walked into the unknown, guided by that single, unyielding thread.

 065 The Flat World

    LXV

    I had a lot of questions swirling in my head, but no answers that made sense. What was the Prophet¡¯s true goal? Why escalate things so quickly? I thought I had outmaneuvered him, provoked him into targeting only me. Clearly, I had been wrong. No, worse¡ªI¡¯d been arrogant.

    The realization hit me like a cold splash of water.

    ¡°Hey. Snap out of it,¡± Leora¡¯s voice broke through my daze, accompanied by the sharp sound of her fingers snapping inches from my face.

    I blinked and focused on her. We were inside a small, weathered cabin that the World Path had transported us to. The air smelled faintly of pine and damp wood. Leon was cradled in Leora¡¯s arms, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the tension that hung heavy in the room.

    Leora¡¯s expression was sharp, her gaze boring into me. Her usual warmth was replaced by something colder, more analytical. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say she was accusing me of something.

    ¡°No way we¡¯re postponing this,¡± she said flatly.

    I braced myself. I wasn¡¯t sure what hurt more¡ªthe lingering exhaustion or the fact that she was right.

    Leora started with her usual calm demeanor, but it didn¡¯t last. She began methodically dismantling my actions, guilt-tripping me with surgical precision.

    ¡°You wanted to join the Hunting Dogs,¡± she said, her voice measured but cutting. ¡°You told me you had a three-year plan to deal with the Prophet. Three years to checkmate him. It¡¯s barely been half a month, Reynard. Half. A. Month.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know!¡± I said, throwing up my hands defensively. ¡°But plans change, okay? The guy¡¯s way more proactive than I expected. I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d escalate this quickly.¡±

    ¡°No, you kicked up a hornet¡¯s nest,¡± she snapped.

    Ugh. She was right. I¡¯d thought I could outthink him, play the long game, but all I¡¯d done was make myself a target. Now, everyone around me was caught in the crossfire.

    Leora¡¯s piercing gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°So, what now? Are you still clinging to this ¡®three-year plan,¡¯ or are you going to admit you have no idea what you¡¯re doing?¡±

    I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my thoughts. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll scrap the plan,¡± I admitted. ¡°But listen¡ªif I had someone on the level of the Seven Extremes, I could end him. I know I could.¡±

    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°Does it have to be one of the Seven Extremes?¡±

    That question stumped me.

    The Seven Extremes were practically mythological figures, each of them wielding power that defied logic. In this timeline, though, the concept of power levels was still vague. Hunters categorized themselves as strong, middling, or weak¡ªa crude system at best. The more refined classifications, like Gifts and Ascended, wouldn¡¯t become common knowledge for another decade.

    I scratched the back of my head, searching for a way to explain. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be one of the Seven Extremes, but anyone at the level of an Ascended could do it. They¡¯re... a blind spot to the Prophet. His foresight can¡¯t track them.¡±

    Selena stirred from her spot in the corner, sitting up with a yawn. ¡°What¡¯s an Ascended?¡± she asked, her voice groggy but curious.

    Leora¡¯s expression mirrored Selena¡¯s curiosity, her head tilting slightly as she waited for my answer.

    I sighed. ¡°An Ascended is... someone who¡¯s reached a state of mastery over their aura. They¡¯re like demi-gods¡ªrare and ridiculously powerful. Their abilities aren¡¯t just superhuman; they¡¯re outright supernatural.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re talking about fairy tales.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°No, they¡¯re real. But they¡¯re so rare that most people will never even meet one. And even if they did, they wouldn¡¯t recognize them. Ascended are... different. Look, the Extreme Fighter alone is enough proof just as how real they could be¡­¡±

    Leora crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying we need one of these Ascended to kill the Prophet?¡±

    I hesitated. ¡°Yes. Or someone with equivalent power.¡±

    My mind raced, sifting through my knowledge of this timeline. Aside from the Seven Extremes, who could possibly match the Prophet?

    Bob came to mind, but he was... complicated. Then there was Selena.

    I glanced at her, my thoughts swirling. She had potential. She was closer to Ascension than she realized. But her second awakening condition was brutal¡ªone wrong move, and it could kill her. I couldn¡¯t risk pushing her too soon.

    Selena caught my gaze and raised an eyebrow. ¡°What? You¡¯ve got that weird look on your face again.¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said quickly, shaking my head.

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Whatever.¡±

    Leora, meanwhile, was watching me closely, her expression unreadable. ¡°If you¡¯re serious about this, then you need to start thinking realistically. We can¡¯t afford any more mistakes.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I said, my voice quieter now.

    Leon stirred in his sleep, and Leora adjusted him in her arms. Her gaze softened, just for a moment.

    This world was cruel, chaotic, and relentless. But even in the midst of all that, there were threads of hope¡ªfragile, yes, but strong enough to hold onto.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    I just had to make sure I didn¡¯t let go.

    A sharp knock at the door shattered the tense silence in the cabin.

    I exchanged a glance with Leora, who was cradling Leon protectively. Selena, leaning against the far wall, raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t move.

    With a resigned sigh, I walked to the door and opened it.

    Standing there was Atropos, dressed in her usual absurdly formal maid outfit, her silver hair gleaming like moonlight. Her crimson eyes flicked to Leon immediately, narrowing slightly as the baby stirred and blinked awake.

    Leora¡¯s arms tightened around Leon instinctively, her gaze snapping to Atropos with suspicion. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡±

    Before I could answer, Selena¡¯s voice rang out from her corner. ¡°What¡¯s your sister doing here, Reynard?¡±

    I turned to her, startled. ¡°How¡ªwait, what?¡±

    Selena smirked and leaned back lazily. ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s obvious. The resemblance is uncanny. Besides,¡± she added with a cheeky grin, ¡°I might¡¯ve bugged your place.¡±

    ¡°You what?¡±

    Selena shrugged. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me to stop. Bodyguarding 101.¡±

    Leora shot me an accusatory glare, but before I could explain¡ªor defend myself¡ªSelena chimed in again, this time addressing Leora. ¡°By the way, you might want to know that this ¡®sister¡¯ of his isn¡¯t just any random maid. She¡¯s one of the ten directors of the Hunter¡¯s Association.¡±

    Leora¡¯s expression froze. The accusing glare she¡¯d aimed at me shifted into something worse: a cold, detached apathy.

    I shivered involuntarily.

    Atropos, still standing in the doorway, tilted her head slightly as if unimpressed by the theatrics. ¡°May I come in, or shall I stand here until your little soap opera is over?¡±

    I stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.

    She walked in with the grace of a dancer, her gaze briefly meeting Leora¡¯s before settling on Leon. She crouched slightly, inspecting the baby with an intensity that made me nervous.

    ¡°What are you doing here, Atropos?¡± I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

    She didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she straightened and turned to me, her crimson eyes boring into mine. ¡°What¡¯s your plan now?¡±

    Her question hung in the air, heavy and loaded.

    I hesitated. I couldn¡¯t let her¡ªor anyone¡ªknow about the tampered and missing pieces of my memory. I activated the telepathic link between us through the Hermit Tarot Card, silently warning her not to mention anything about my fragmented mind.

    Atropos¡¯s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. ¡°Understood,¡± she replied, her voice neutral.

    Leora, still holding Leon, finally spoke. ¡°What exactly is your connection to Reynard?¡±

    Atropos¡¯s crimson gaze shifted to her. ¡°I¡¯m his sister. By blood, if that matters to you.¡±

    Selena let out a low whistle. ¡°Bet you didn¡¯t see that one coming, huh, Leora?¡±

    Leora ignored her, her eyes narrowing. ¡°And you¡¯re one of the directors of the Hunter¡¯s Association?¡±

    ¡°That is correct,¡± Atropos replied, her tone cool and detached.

    Leora¡¯s grip on Leon tightened, and I could almost feel the weight of her judgment pressing down on me.

    ¡°Reynard,¡± she said, her voice as cold as ice, ¡°you have a lot of explaining to do.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

    Atropos crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. ¡°Your theatrics with the World Path have drawn attention. The Prophet will undoubtedly retaliate. If you¡¯re going to drag the Association into this mess, you¡¯d better have a solid plan.¡±

    I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of everyone¡¯s eyes on me. ¡°I¡¯m working on it,¡± I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

    Atropos arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Work faster.¡±

    The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

    Leora sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped protectively around Leon, her expression as sharp as the blade she had wielded earlier. She didn¡¯t even look at Atropos when she remarked, ¡°You know, I¡¯ve never seen anyone from the Ten Directors except for Dr. Yamada and Klein. Makes you wonder if the whole ¡®Ten Directors¡¯ thing is just another conspiracy.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice remained calm. ¡°Not everything is a conspiracy, Leora.¡±

    Leora smirked, her tone biting. ¡°Sure, just like how the Hunting Dogs are definitely not a conspiracy.¡±

    I felt the tension spike in the room, and Leon stirred uneasily in her arms. The last thing we needed was a clash between these two. Conspiracy or not, Atropos had her uses. And yes, I still didn¡¯t fully trust her¡ªhow could I?¡ªbut I needed them to at least pretend to get along. For Leon¡¯s sake, if nothing else.

    I raised my hands in a placating gesture. ¡°Actually, it was Atropos who convinced me not to join the Hunting Dogs.¡±

    Leora¡¯s glare softened, though the suspicion in her eyes didn¡¯t fade entirely.

    Selena leaned against the wall with a cheeky grin. ¡°Probably another conspiracy.¡±

    Thankfully, her comment was ignored by everyone.

    Atropos shifted her attention to me, her voice slipping into her usual businesslike tone. ¡°Since your escape from the Extreme Gunner, things have escalated. My mechanical army managed to decimate a significant portion of the cult¡¯s forces.¡±

    Leora¡¯s lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile, probably thinking what a ¡®mechanical army¡¯ looked like.

    Atropos continued, ¡°Even Bob got involved. He managed to land a cheeky blow on the Extreme Maker, Eliz-Beth.¡±

    I blinked in surprise. ¡°Bob? What¡¯s he doing tangling with an Extreme?¡±

    Atropos gave a rueful smile. ¡°He¡¯s always been ambitious. The President of the Hunter¡¯s Association lost an arm in the process, though.¡±

    The news hit me like a punch to the gut. ¡°Wait¡ªBob? He¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Alive,¡± Atropos confirmed. ¡°But barely. He¡¯ll be out of commission for a while.¡±

    I mulled over the implications. Bob¡¯s ambition was no secret¡ªhe wanted aura to be publicly disseminated, and he was vocal about breaking down the barriers of censorship surrounding aura, Hunters, cryptids, and even the truth about the world¡¯s¡­ flatness.

    Selena broke the silence with a casual, but pointed question. ¡°Speaking of which, Reynard, what was that comment you made to Ranas about the world being flat?¡±

    I froze.

    Leora¡¯s gaze sharpened, and she honed in on me like a predator. ¡°You¡¯re keeping too many secrets, Reynard.¡±

    Atropos, surprisingly, came to my defense. ¡°It¡¯s irrelevant.¡±

    Leora shot her a skeptical look, but didn¡¯t press further. I could tell she wasn¡¯t satisfied, though.

    ¡°I might as well come clean,¡± I began, taking a deep breath. ¡°Who here knows anything about World History?¡±

    I raised my hand. Atropos mirrored the gesture, and¡­ nothing else.

    Selena snorted. ¡°Slept through the entire thing. Too many dates, not enough action.¡±

    Leora shrugged, her expression unbothered. ¡°Same. Not exactly useful for a hunter.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t surprised. Hunters didn¡¯t need to know about history, not when survival was their primary concern. And even if they wanted to, most of it had been scrubbed clean by the government. Details about the Old World¡ªcountries, cultures, the way life used to be¡ªwere considered irrelevant or dangerous.

    ¡°Well, I did,¡± I said, leaning back in my chair. The first thing I did when I realized I was stuck here was set up a routine. A normal life. Got a job, took online classes, even managed to get a diploma. I needed to understand the kind of world I¡¯d landed in.

    And I learned this world was more ¡®detailed¡¯ than what I had in mind.

    That was why it never crossed my mind I transmigrated my novel until I came face to face with aura, hunters, and things that had started to become familiar to me.

    ¡°To be frank,¡± I gave a dry chuckle. ¡°There isn¡¯t much about history¡­ But¡­ I knew things¡­¡±

    Selena tilted her head with a hint of amusement creeping back into her expression. ¡°And? What did the wise scholar learn?¡±

    ¡°That the world is ending,¡± I said bluntly.

    The room fell silent. Even Selena¡¯s grin faltered.

    ¡°Not all at once,¡± I clarified. ¡°It¡¯s been happening slowly, ever since the discovery of aura. The rifts, the cryptids, the way the continents are splitting apart¡ªit¡¯s all connected. Aura didn¡¯t just change the rules of survival; it¡¯s been destabilizing the world itself.¡±

    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed, but she didn¡¯t interrupt. Atropos tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

    I did a lot of worldbuilding when I wrote Hunterworks.

    At some point, I made it by design that the protagonist would be the one to save the world. He was supposed to stop it from fragmenting entirely.

    Selena raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, what? The world is¡­ flat? What does that mean?¡±

    ~065

 066 Bending The Narrative

    LXVI

    The aftermath of the attack left us battered, physically and emotionally. Stefan was dead¡ªrest in peace. His lifeless body now lay in one of Selena¡¯s shrunken caskets, a grim reminder of what we¡¯d lost. Mourning him properly would have to wait; there was no time to grieve.

    A troubling thought gnawed at me. What was the Prophet¡¯s goal in conducting this attack? The destruction seemed calculated, but to what end?

    Butterflies I¡¯d never imagined fluttered in my stomach, their chaotic dance reflecting my scattered thoughts. I exhaled slowly, trying to organize my thoughts. If I was going to explain this, I needed to make it clear¡ªand fast, before anyone decided I¡¯d lost my mind.

    "Okay," I began, "let me show you something."

    Leora raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t interrupt. Selena crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, as if daring me to surprise her. Leon, nestled in Leora¡¯s arms, cooed softly, oblivious to the tension in the room.

    I drew on my aura, weaving it into something visible. Borrowing Leora¡¯s light attribute, I created a glowing sphere in the air, hovering just above my palm. It shimmered faintly, casting soft rays of light across the dim cabin.

    ¡°This,¡± I said, ¡°is Earth. Or rather, how it used to be.¡±

    I snapped my fingers, and the glowing sphere crumbled into countless fragments, scattering in every direction like a miniature explosion. The fragments hovered in midair, suspended by the faintest threads of aura.

    ¡°And this,¡± I continued, gesturing to the floating debris, ¡°is Earth now.¡±

    That finally got their attention. Selena straightened slightly, her smirk fading as she studied the glowing fragments. Leora¡¯s gaze sharpened, her grip on Leon tightening instinctively. Even Leon seemed captivated, reaching out with tiny hands to try and catch the glowing lights.

    ¡°Outer space knowledge isn¡¯t censored, right?¡± I asked, glancing at them.

    Selena shrugged. ¡°Not really. Mundane schools teach the Earth is round. Why?¡±

    ¡°Because it was round,¡± I said, pointing to the original sphere. ¡°Until something changed.¡±

    I drew another thread of aura, shaping it into a faint, glowing mist that enveloped the scattered fragments.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly what caused it,¡± I admitted. ¡°The rifts? Aura? Something else? But at some point, the Earth started to collapse. The continents fragmented, the balance of the world shattered. Aura wasn¡¯t just discovered¡ªit was used to save what was left of the world.¡±

    The glowing mist pulsed faintly, holding the floating fragments together like an invisible glue.

    ¡°This,¡± I said, gesturing to the mist, ¡°is aura. It¡¯s what keeps this world intact, magically holding it together. Without it, everything would fall apart¡ªliterally.¡±

    The room was silent, save for Leon¡¯s soft giggles as he swatted at the glowing fragments. I watched him for a moment, a pang of guilt twisting in my chest. I¡¯d postponed this conversation for too long, using the Prophet and my plans as an excuse.

    In truth, I¡¯d been afraid. Afraid of the reality that had crashed into my life when I realized my novel was real. Afraid of the responsibility that came with being a father in a world I barely understood anymore.

    Leora¡¯s voice pulled me back to the present. ¡°So¡­ what?¡±

    I took a deep breath, zooming in on one of the fragments. With a flick of my wrist, I shaped it into a miniature map¡ªa perfect replica of the Claimed Lands.

    ¡°This,¡± I said, pointing to the glowing map, ¡°is the Claimed Lands. The world we know. Inside these walls, we¡¯re relatively safe. The World Wall keeps the lands intact and protects us from cryptid invasions.¡±

    I swiped my hand to the left, revealing another glowing image¡ªa towering barrier that shimmered faintly with an otherworldly light.

    ¡°This is the World Wall,¡± I explained. ¡°It¡¯s not just a physical barrier¡ªit¡¯s a manifestation of aura and science. Without it, the Claimed Lands would be overrun.¡±

    I scrolled the projection a bit further, revealing a dark, chaotic expanse beyond the wall. The glow of aura was faint here, almost nonexistent.

    ¡°And this,¡± I said, ¡°is the Forbidden Region. The world beyond the wall. Out here, cryptids are as common as ants. Rifts are larger, more unstable. Floating islands dot the sky, remnants of the Earth¡¯s fragmentation.¡±

    I glanced at Leon, who was now flinging tiny sparks of aura at the projection. His giggles filled the room, a stark contrast to the grim reality I was describing.

    ¡°This place,¡± I said softly, ¡°was meant to be the real setting of the story. The protagonist¡ª¡± I hesitated, correcting myself. ¡°Leon was supposed to grow up here. To become strong enough to save the world from collapsing entirely.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Leora¡¯s eyes flicked between me and the projection, her expression unreadable. Selena tilted her head, her usual smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

    ¡°So,¡± Selena said finally, ¡°the world¡¯s held together by magic duct tape, and you¡¯re telling us your son is the only one who can fix it?¡±

    ¡°Essentially,¡± I admitted.

    Selena let out a low whistle. ¡°No pressure, huh?¡±

    Leora¡¯s gaze softened as she looked at Leon, her arms tightening protectively around him. ¡°And what about you?¡± she asked, her voice quiet but firm. ¡°What¡¯s your role in all of this?¡±

    I hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on me. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to make sure Leon has a chance.¡±

    The room fell silent again, the glowing fragments of the Earth casting faint shadows on the walls.

    Leora crossed her arms, tilting her head as she studied me. ¡°How do you even know all this stuff? The best I remember from history class is dinosaurs and those boring lectures on the Capital¡¯s early years¡­¡±

    I hesitated, my mind racing for an explanation that wouldn¡¯t make me sound insane. I could tell the truth, risk being called crazy by my wife, and throw everything into chaos¡ªor I could lie.

    Before I could utter a word, Atropos stepped in. ¡°It¡¯s knowledge he knows because of his lineage.¡±

    The words hit me like a brick. ¡°What?¡± I blurted, completely thrown off.

    Leora¡¯s suspicious gaze locked onto me. ¡°Lineage?¡± she echoed, her tone sharp with curiosity.

    I shrugged helplessly, utterly clueless. ¡°I have no idea what she¡¯s talking about.¡±

    Selena snorted, leaning back against the wall with a dramatic eye roll. ¡°This is total BS drama, and I¡¯m officially over it. The world¡¯s on the brink of ending? Big news! Who knew?¡±

    Atropos, ever the helpful informant, chimed in, ¡°The Government, the World Order, and the Hunter¡¯s Association.¡±

    ¡°What even is the World Order?¡± Selena¡¯s expression twisted into a mix of anger and vindication. ¡°Fucking conspiracy! I told you! And you¡ª¡± she pointed a finger at me, ¡°¡ªlineage? What are you, secretly part of the Old Nobility or something?¡±

    I shook my head firmly. ¡°No way. If I were, I¡¯d have been kidnapped for ransom or shipped off to some place they¡¯d want me to be. I¡¯m not some secret noble.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Then what¡¯s the deal? Spill.¡±

    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. ¡°Look, my sister and I¡­ we¡¯re estranged. That¡¯s it. There¡¯s no grand secret or conspiracy.¡±

    Leora stepped forward, her expression unreadable. She gently handed Leon to Selena, who grumbled but accepted the squirming toddler. ¡°Damn it, stop grabbing my boob, kid,¡± Selena muttered as Leon giggled. ¡°Because its bouncy doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s a toy.¡±

    Leora ignored her and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward a chair. She sat down, tugging me to sit beside her.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked, baffled.

    She clasped my hand tightly in hers, her gaze steady. ¡°You¡¯ve been running around trying to put a target on your back. Care to explain why?¡±

    I hesitated, unsure how much to say. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±

    ¡°Try me,¡± she said, her voice soft but insistent.

    I took a deep breath. ¡°Because it wasn¡¯t entirely wasted. My ¡®act¡¯¡ªwhatever you want to call it¡ªhelped me reconnect with an estranged sister I barely knew existed. I¡¯ve learned how to use aura, gotten stronger, and maybe¡­ just maybe, I¡¯ve found a place in the world of hunters, even though I came from what I thought was a mundane background.¡±

    Leora¡¯s grip on my hand tightened slightly. ¡°So, not so mundane after all?¡±

    I shrugged, feeling the weight of everything I¡¯d been hiding. ¡°Apparently not.¡±

    She smiled faintly, her eyes softening. ¡°Remember when you used to complain about me ghosting you for two years after the hunter fiasco?¡±

    I groaned, already knowing where this was going. ¡°Please don¡¯t bring that up.¡±

    She grinned, clearly enjoying my discomfort. ¡°And that whole speech you gave me about doing the hunting?¡±

    ¡°Ugh¡­ cringe,¡± I muttered, burying my face in my free hand.

    Leora laughed softly. ¡°How about we do none of that and just¡­ forget everything for now?¡±

    Her words were tempting, a brief escape from the mounting pressure. But I couldn¡¯t forget. Not when the Prophet was still out there, waiting for the chance to kill Leon.

    I pulled my hand from hers and looked her in the eye. ¡°We can¡¯t forget, Leora. Not yet. The Prophet is still out there. And they won¡¯t stop until they¡¯ve taken Leon.¡±

    Her expression darkened, and she nodded slowly. ¡°Then we don¡¯t stop either.¡±

    Selena, who had been quietly trying to stop Leon from pulling her hair, snorted. ¡°Great. More drama. Just what we need.¡±

    ¡°We go with Plan B,¡± I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. ¡°What¡¯s Plan B?¡±

    Selena scoffed. ¡°We have a Plan B?¡±

    Atropos tilted her head. ¡°What was Plan A anyway?¡±

    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. ¡°Plan A was me trying to engineer a ¡®kill¡¯ for the Prophet via borrowed knife. It didn¡¯t work. I forced the narrative instead of outwitting it.¡±

    Leora¡¯s expression softened slightly, but her gaze remained expectant.

    I couldn¡¯t tell them the truth¡ªthat this world was a novel I¡¯d written. But the idea was painfully simple: manipulate the narrative to our advantage. ¡°The future is fixed in certain ways,¡± I began, choosing my words carefully. ¡°There¡¯s no escaping destiny. The only thing we can do is bend to it and satiate it.¡±

    Leora frowned, her grip tightening on my arm. ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    I exhaled slowly. ¡°Once Leon reaches the age of ten, he¡¯ll be orphaned and set off on his adventure in the Forbidden Region¡ªor at least part of it. This is a definite truth.¡±

    Selena¡¯s eyes widened, her usual sarcasm absent. ¡°Wait, what? Orphaned? You mean¡­¡±

    I turned to her, nodding gravely. ¡°Selena, I want you to be his godmother.¡±

    Selena froze, uncharacteristically silent.

    Leora¡¯s hand trembled in mine. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡±

    I gave her a sad smile. ¡°I saw the future.¡± Or, more accurately, I¡¯d written it.

    Her face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. ¡°We¡­ we die?¡±

    I nodded, pulling her into a hug. ¡°Yes. But that doesn¡¯t mean we have to go quietly.¡±

    Leora¡¯s sobs grew louder as she clung to me. ¡°And you¡¯re thinking of faking our deaths?¡±

    I held her tighter, my own heart breaking. ¡°It¡¯s the only way to give Leon the chance he needs. We have eight years, Leora. Eight years to prepare him, to love him, to make every moment count.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make it better,¡± she cried, her voice muffled against my chest.

    ¡°I know,¡± I whispered, my voice cracking. ¡°But it¡¯s all we have.¡±

    Selena finally found her voice, though it was softer than I¡¯d ever heard it. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    I looked at each of them in turn¡ªSelena, Atropos, Leora. My family, my allies, my only hope. ¡°We outwit the narrative. We prepare for what¡¯s coming, and when the time is right, we bend destiny to our will.¡± The weight of the world pressed down on me, but as I held Leora close and met Selena¡¯s determined gaze, I felt a flicker of hope. This wasn¡¯t the end. Not yet.

    ~066

 067 The Blindspot

    LXVII

    Sebastian stepped out of his sleek black limousine, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement. His bodyguards formed a protective circle around him, their presence a testament to the growing hostility he faced. Three ambushes today alone. Each attack underscored the chaos that Reynard''s reckless actions had unleashed¡ªa chaos that was now threatening to topple Sebastian¡¯s carefully constructed empire.

    Not to mention, very thoroughly ruining his day.

    One of the guards returned from scouting the distant warehouse, his voice clipped. ¡°It¡¯s safe. He¡¯s alone.¡±

    Sebastian nodded, exhaling softly. He reached inward, tapping into his prophetic gifts. The vision was clear¡ªhe would not die today. Reassured, he walked confidently toward the warehouse, his bodyguards flanking him in a well-rehearsed formation.

    Inside, Robert "Bob" Arkwright, President of the Hunter¡¯s Association, waited. The years had not been kind to him for someone so young. His bald head gleamed under the harsh warehouse lights, and his left arm was conspicuously absent.

    The vibrant, gaudy outfits Sebastian remembered from their past meetings were gone, replaced by a plain white tee and faded jeans. Bob looked less like a leader of one of the most powerful organizations in the world and more like a man who had seen too much.

    Sebastian smirked faintly. The sight was not unexpected. Injuring Bob had been a calculated move, part of his strategy when he maneuvered two of the Seven Extremes into play. Still, this wasn¡¯t about gloating. There were bigger stakes at hand.

    ¡°I heard you wanted to talk,¡± Sebastian said, his tone sharp and to the point. ¡°So, talk.¡±

    Bob laughed, a dry, hollow sound that echoed in the empty space. ¡°Arrogance that knows no bounds! Is it the privilege of the all-knowing?¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s smirk deepened. He wasn¡¯t foolish enough to call himself all-knowing, but he wouldn¡¯t shy away from letting others believe it. Perception was power.

    Bob leaned back against a metal table, his eyes boring into Sebastian. ¡°Let me guess... your ultimate goal was to delay the Hunt Order, wasn¡¯t it? If you could truly see the future, then you should have seen this coming.¡±

    Sebastian didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, he replied smoothly, ¡°I like talking with smart people.¡±

    That was a lie, of course. Sebastian much preferred dealing with the uninformed and easily manipulated. Bob¡¯s intelligence was a liability, not an asset. But he wasn¡¯t about to show his hand.

    Bob chuckled knowingly. ¡°You¡¯re not denying it. You are trying to delay the Hunt Order¡ªor stop it entirely. Makes sense. If a Hunt Order were issued on your head, even your precious prophetic abilities wouldn¡¯t save you in the long term. Am I right?¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s expression remained inscrutable, but the truth of Bob¡¯s words stung. A Hunt Order against him would unravel everything, pushing even his foresight to its breaking point.

    Bob stepped closer, his voice tinged with mockery. ¡°Since you¡¯re so omniscient, humor me. What do you think I want? Why did I push for this meeting?¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s mind raced, though his reply was calm and measured. ¡°The dissemination of aura knowledge. It¡¯s your dream, isn¡¯t it? You want my cooperation to mitigate the pushback you¡¯re getting from the World Order. My connections in the Old Nobility could ease the transition. On top of that, you¡¯re interested in the techniques my Cult has amassed over the years.¡±

    Bob¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Of course I am. Techniques and Special Abilities are worlds apart. The latter is unique, tied to the individual. But techniques? Those can be learned, shared, and perfected by anyone. Even the ¡®immortality¡¯ you so generously sell to your precious clientele is just another technique, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss details.¡±

    The two men sat across from each other, the weight of their respective ambitions filling the space between them. Each knew the other was a dangerous player, and neither trusted the other further than they could throw him. But for now, their interests aligned.

    Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him as he fixed Bob with a cold stare. The hum of the warehouse lights buzzed faintly in the background, a reminder of how isolated they were.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I want Reynard¡¯s head,¡± Sebastian said flatly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

    Bob snorted, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s impossible, even for me. He¡¯s built a faction of his own. You should know¡ªyou¡¯ve been watching him.¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but the words stung. Of course, he¡¯d been watching Reynard. That was precisely the problem. No matter how much effort he poured into surveillance or how many resources he burned, Reynard remained a blindspot¡ªa gaping void in Sebastian¡¯s otherwise seamless prophetic vision.

    That blindspot had been the catalyst for his panic, forcing him to act rashly. Moving two of the Seven Extremes had been a desperate gamble, one that had cost him dearly. Extreme Fighter Ranas, who had been inches away from joining Sebastian¡¯s organization, was now exiled¡ªa loss Sebastian had been forced to rationalize as ¡°acceptable.¡±

    He exhaled quietly, pushing the memory aside. The past was the past, and he couldn¡¯t afford to dwell on his mistakes.

    Sebastian focused his prophetic powers, a faint ripple of aura enveloping his mind as he sought answers. His questions came sharp and fast, each one designed to cut through Bob¡¯s defenses.

    ¡°Was Reynard an Ascended?¡±

    Bob shook his head. ¡°No, he¡¯s definitely not an Ascended.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his origin?¡±

    ¡°No one knows. Not me, not the Association, not anyone.¡±

    ¡°Where are the Brights right now?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve gone off the grid. For real this time. Even our best trackers haven¡¯t been able to locate them.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the Association¡¯s relationship to the Brights?¡±

    Bob hesitated for a fraction of a second, then answered carefully. ¡°Reynard has a license issued by the Association. That technically makes him an employee, but beyond that? I can¡¯t tell you much. We¡¯ve kept things... professional.¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s vision blurred momentarily as he pulled himself out of the alternate timeline he¡¯d been exploring. The lightheadedness hit him immediately¡ªa sharp reminder of the strain his powers took on his body. He massaged his temples, grounding himself in the present moment.

    The conversation looped back in his mind to where it had started, his demand for Reynard¡¯s head. The prophetic interrogation had yielded little. Reynard remained an enigma, and the Brights were as elusive as ever.

    Sebastian clenched his fists under the table, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. This was no ordinary game. Reynard¡¯s existence was an anomaly, a challenge to the order Sebastian had worked so meticulously to build. And if he couldn¡¯t predict Reynard¡¯s moves, he¡¯d have to find another way to deal with him.

    Bob¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your energy. Reynard isn¡¯t just a man anymore¡ªhe¡¯s becoming a symbol. Taking him down won¡¯t be as simple as removing a piece from the board.¡±

    Sebastian stood, smoothing his coat with deliberate precision. ¡°Symbols can be dismantled. Factions can be broken. Everyone has a weakness, Bob. Even the King of Favors.¡± His fingers drummed rhythmically on the metal table as he recalled the prophetic visions that had plagued him for weeks.

    Leora Bright and her son, Leon Bright. The wife and son of Reynard. Their sudden disappearance from his prophetic visions was a glaring void¡ªa sure sign they had rejoined Reynard. That, in itself, was a troubling development.

    The boy, Leon, was a growing threat. Sebastian had glimpsed the child¡¯s potential in a distant, fiery vision¡ªan inferno consuming everything in its path, including the foundations of his organization. Yet for now, Sebastian had postponed dealing with the Brights. Reynard, the upstart who had dismantled so much of his carefully laid plans, was the bigger problem.

    Forcing the Brights to retreat and go off the grid was a minor victory, one Sebastian took solace in. He had glimpsed enough through his prophetic visions¡ªsnippets of Leora¡¯s conversations with Atropos, the Director of Operations¡ªto confirm their retreat was real. But the cost of driving them into hiding had been steep, and Reynard was far from finished.

    Sebastian turned his gaze to Bob, who sat across from him. ¡°What is Atropos¡¯s connection to Leora Bright?¡±

    Bob¡¯s reaction was immediate¡ªhis eyebrows rose, his expression flickered with surprise, confusion, and then amusement. He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°It looks like you¡¯re not all-knowing after all.¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s jaw tightened. He regretted not opening an alternate reality to glean the answer directly.

    Bob leaned back, clearly savoring the moment. ¡°It¡¯s simple. They¡¯re a junior and a senior. Both worked for the Hunting Dogs for a time, you know? It¡¯s not exactly a secret.¡±

    Sebastian processed the information, filing it away for later use. ¡°This is my demand,¡± he said, his tone shifting to one of authority. ¡°You will have my cooperation. In exchange, I want your help spreading the faith.¡±

    Bob¡¯s amusement faded into a frown. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. I¡¯m neither a preacher nor an advocate of any faith. That¡¯s just unfair to something we call freedom of faith.¡±

    Sebastian¡¯s lips curled into a thin smile. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to preach on my behalf. This will benefit your dream of disseminating aura knowledge. Since Reynard ripped the mask off my organization, I intend to raise a public following¡ªa church, if you will. The government won¡¯t like it. Hunter matters have always been too close to the heart of the Elsewhere Cult. Or should I say, the Elsewhere Church.¡±

    Bob raised an eyebrow, his mind clearly racing to grasp the implications. ¡°You plan to use the government and the mundanes as a shield against hunter attacks, don¡¯t you? Smart.¡±

    Sebastian inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the observation without confirming it outright. The hunters weren¡¯t Bob¡¯s subordinates. It wasn¡¯t like Sebastion could request bob to stop the hunters from hunting him¡­ It was plainly unrealistic¡­ The Hunter¡¯s Association facilitate hunters, not control them.

    Bob sat in silence for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he nodded. ¡°Fine. That¡¯s a deal. I¡¯ll help you with the government-side. In return, you help me deal with the World Order. We¡¯ll make it work.¡±

    Sebastian extended his hand, sealing the agreement with a firm shake.

    Behind his calm demeanor, his mind raced with calculations and contingencies. The Elsewhere Church was only the beginning, a stepping stone in a larger game.

    And Reynard, for all his cleverness, would not see the next move coming.

    ~067

 068 A Deal in Disguise

    LXVIII

    Rumas City. 9:00 AM.

    The small caf¨¦ bustled with the sound of morning chatter and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. I sat in a corner booth, blending into the background with my borrowed disguise. Selena¡¯s attribute worked wonders; I had adopted a hipster look¡ªfake dreadlocks, round glasses, and a scruffy beard. It was a bit over the top, but that was the point. Nobody looked twice at a hipster in a caf¨¦.

    Across from me sat Bob, similarly disguised but in a much subtler way. He had hair now, neatly combed, and looked surprisingly well-dressed for someone I last saw missing an arm and looking like he had crawled out of a warzone. I imagined the prosthetic was hidden under his tailored jacket.

    ¡°So, what did you find?¡± I asked, stirring my coffee.

    Bob smirked, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Plenty enough.¡±

    I gestured for him to continue. ¡°Lay it on me.¡±

    Bob sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°I followed your advice, and you were right. He talked rather than fought, just like you predicted. Honestly, it made me feel like all my maneuvering was useless. Hell, losing my arm might have been for nothing.¡± He paused, a faint bitterness creeping into his voice. ¡°I never knew you¡¯d make such an excellent consultant. Why don¡¯t you join the Association? We could use someone like you. I¡¯ll even throw in a signing bonus.¡±

    I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°Tempting, but no thanks. So, did you get anything useful?¡±

    Bob nodded, his expression serious now. ¡°He didn¡¯t outright say it, but he slipped¡ªmentioned that you¡¯re a blindspot to him. Of course, he said it in a euphemistic way¡­¡±

    I froze for a moment, then smiled. I knew it. I had my suspicions all along. Sebastian¡¯s counterattack had been too excessive, too reckless. It was like he was overcompensating for something. If I were him, I¡¯d have used the bare minimum of resources to take me down, Ascended or not. And I was not.

    Bob continued, ¡°You explained the nature of his ability to me¡ªprecognition, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Unreasonable, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

    ¡°And, like you said, it has its limitations.¡± Bob leaned forward, his voice dropping. ¡°You told me if I tried to hunt him for my own benefit, I¡¯d fail. Instead, I should arrange things so we¡¯d both walk away with something. It was good advice. It worked.¡±

    I set my cup down and met his gaze. ¡°And now, it¡¯s time you pay my price.¡±

    Bob sighed, a wry smile tugging at his lips. ¡°You don¡¯t make it easy, do you?¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± I replied. ¡°You got what you wanted. Now it¡¯s my turn.¡±

    He pulled out a slim folder from his jacket and slid it across the table. ¡°Everything I could gather. His plans, his movements, his weaknesses¡ªor at least what I could piece together. I used all my resources available to me. I didn¡¯t hold back. You were right about the church. He¡¯s moving fast to rebrand the Elsewhere Cult into something more¡­ palatable for the mundanes. He¡¯s already lobbying for support within the government. I confirmed it with my second-hand sources.¡±

    I flipped through the folder, scanning the pages. Diagrams, intercepted communications, photos¡ªBob had done well.

    ¡°And what else?¡± I asked, forgetting to hold back my hostility..

    Bob leaned back in his chair, his prosthetic arm resting on the table, the fingers tapping lightly against the surface. He took a sip of his coffee before speaking. ¡°Calm down a bit, okay? I will talk. Information, isn¡¯t it? Yep, that was the deal. That was your price. Don¡¯t worry, Reynard. Atropos told me enough, and I¡¯d hate to piss her off more than I already have.¡±

    I didn¡¯t reply, letting him talk.

    ¡°The most important confirmation you wanted was whether you¡¯re a blindspot to Sebastian¡¯s precognition.¡± He paused for effect, a smirk playing on his lips. ¡°It¡¯s a positive. You are.¡±

    I nodded slowly.

    That much was clear.

    Bob continued, ¡°The fact that we¡¯re sitting here talking now proves it. If Sebastian had foreseen this meeting, he¡¯d have done everything in his power to avoid it. He wouldn¡¯t risk it.¡±

    He leaned forward, lowering his voice. ¡°What else? Ah, he has too little aura¡ªlike you. If that helps.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. That was new.

    ¡°There isn¡¯t much else I managed to pry out,¡± Bob admitted, ¡°but it¡¯s enough to get you started. For example, he doesn¡¯t react to killing intent. Weird, right? But I believe he can foresee physical or visual harm. Get what I mean?¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    I did. It was a subtle but crucial distinction.

    ¡°It is difficult to explain,¡± Bob went on, ¡°He might have no actionable defenses¡ªor very weak resistance¡ªto mental powers. That¡¯s something I deduced by observing one of his bodyguards. A mentalist, I¡¯m sure of it. Probably there to shield him from psychic attacks. But here¡¯s the kicker: assassination against someone like Sebastian is nearly impossible as long as he can see it coming.¡±

    ¡°Even a specialized assassin wouldn¡¯t stand a chance?¡± I asked.

    Bob shook his head. ¡°Nope. Even arranging things from behind the scenes would probably be futile if you don¡¯t have the right pieces. And by pieces, I mean Blindspots.¡±

    He pointed a finger at me. ¡°Even if you¡¯re a Blindspot yourself and risk everything, I don¡¯t see you succeeding in taking him out. For you to remain a Blindspot, you¡¯d need to act alone¡ªor with a group of other Blindspots. And that sucks.¡±

    Because no way in hell there would be a handful of blindspots around there. I grimaced. That was exactly why I¡¯d considered involving an Ascended in the first place.

    Bob must have read my expression because he chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s the reason, isn¡¯t it? Why you wanted an Ascended to do it. They¡¯re strong enough to pull it off and, more importantly, they¡¯re natural Blindspots.¡±

    I nodded again, sipping my coffee as I mulled over the information. Bob had given me more than I expected.

    ¡°You¡¯ve earned your price,¡± I said finally.

    Bob grinned. ¡°Damn right I have. Now, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to keep my other arm intact. Deal with this Prophet problem whatever you like, but don¡¯t get in my way, okay?¡±

    I watched as he stood, adjusted his coat, and left the caf¨¦.

    Bob had been surprisingly amiable during our meeting. I couldn¡¯t quite decide if I liked it or not. There was a shift in his demeanor¡ªa subtle acknowledgment that we were equals now. Or at least, that¡¯s how he seemed to see it.

    In terms of raw power, I knew I couldn¡¯t contend with someone like Bob or Loki. Even Selena was a force I couldn¡¯t match in a life or death fight. Maybe it was because they were all "named characters" in the novel, and I¡¯d written them with the kind of overwhelming presence that made others seem insignificant. I wasn¡¯t immune to my own biases, it seemed.

    Leora was different. She didn¡¯t exactly exist in the novel except as a vague, motherly figure I¡¯d dropped in favor of focusing on the protagonist¡¯s journey. Perhaps that¡¯s why I felt comfortable around her¡ªshe wasn¡¯t a threat, narratively or otherwise.

    As I walked out of the caf¨¦¡¯s back entrance, I laughed to myself, the sound dry and self-deprecating. ¡°You really wrote yourself into a corner, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    I changed my disguise in the alley, swapping the hipster look for that of a pizza delivery boy. It wasn¡¯t much, just a red cap, a uniform shirt, and a helmet to cover my face. I hopped on a motorcycle, made a few deliveries to fake my trail, and finally returned to one of Leora¡¯s safehouses.

    The place was an abandoned internet caf¨¦ tucked into a forgotten corner of Rumas. The neon sign above the door flickered weakly, spelling out something illegible. Inside, Selena was waiting, sprawled across a desk littered with papers and fake IDs.

    ¡°Yo~ Took you long enough!¡± she called out, waving a laminated card in the air. ¡°I¡¯ve finished preparing the fake identifications!¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Selena,¡± I said, letting out a tired sigh.

    Leora was seated nearby, holding baby Leon. When she saw me, she rose to her feet and handed him over. ¡°I¡¯ll handle Stefan¡¯s funeral,¡± she said, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of grief.

    Selena reached into her utility belt and pulled out a small, shrunk casket. With a quick motion, she unshrunk it, the object expanding into its full size.

    Leora hefted it onto her shoulder with ease, as though it weighed nothing. ¡°I owe Stefan a lot¡­ This is the least I can do for him.¡±

    I adjusted Leon in my arms, watching her carefully. ¡°Stay safe out there,¡± I said.

    She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°Copy that.¡±

    Selena stared at me, her eyebrows raised. ¡°Sooo¡­ I¡¯m Leon¡¯s godmother now?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I replied, sipping my coffee. It was my third coffee for today.

    ¡°What do godmothers even do?¡±

    I leaned back in my chair, trying to sound casual. ¡°Just think of yourself as a very special auntie who¡¯d be responsible for baby Leon if his parents, you know¡­ died.¡±

    Selena grimaced. ¡°Kind of dark¡­¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not dark,¡± I said, grinning.

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Never mind.¡±

    ¡°Just trolling you.¡±

    Leon, who was busy on the floor with a toy, decided to contribute to the conversation. ¡°Goobagooba~!¡±

    Selena tilted her head, her expression dubious. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but I feel worried for your son. Why does he always make weird baby noises?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°I guess¡­ he¡¯s adventurous?¡±

    Selena gave me a flat look, clearly unimpressed with my excuse.

    Changing the subject, she leaned forward. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about your precog. Did I become Leon¡¯s godmother in your visions?¡±

    ¡°Correction,¡± I said, holding up a finger. ¡°Vision. Singular. I only saw one future, and I desperately hope it isn¡¯t absolute.¡±

    Selena crossed her arms, her curiosity undeterred. ¡°So how did I turn out?¡±

    I hesitated, recalling the novel this world was based on¡ªHunterworks. Faking my meta-knowledge as a byproduct of precognition was a risky move, but it seemed to work so far.

    ¡°The future you is a really badass girl,¡± I said cautiously. ¡°Do you really want me to spoil it?¡±

    ¡°Shoot. If you¡¯re so uncomfortable, just tell me if I became Leon¡¯s godmommy.¡±

    ¡°Nope, you didn¡¯t,¡± I admitted. ¡°Instead, it was Atropos.¡±

    Selena blinked. ¡°Dope¡­ and yuck. Atropos? Nope! I will have the honor of becoming Leon¡¯s goddess-mommy.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s godmother,¡± I corrected.

    ¡°It¡¯s sexy goddess-mama-mia-Selena,¡± she said with a flourish.

    Leon chose that moment to make his debut in the conversation. ¡°MILF! MILF!¡±

    I choked on my coffee, sputtering. ¡°What¡ª?¡±

    Selena¡¯s jaw dropped as she stared at Leon.

    Turning to my son, I noticed his tiny fingers pointing at a bottle of milk sitting on the table.

    I sighed in relief, though my dignity felt slightly bruised. ¡°He¡¯s saying milk! He wants his bottle!¡±

    Selena still looked dumbfounded. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a two-year-old? I think a naughty, delinquent middle-aged guy is trapped inside that kid¡¯s body.¡±

    Leon giggled, blissfully unaware of the chaos he had just caused.

    ¡°Leon,¡± I muttered, handing him the bottle. ¡°Let¡¯s work on saying ¡®daddy¡¯ or ¡®mama¡¯ next, okay? Preferably something less likely to get me in trouble.¡±

    Selena burst into laughter. ¡°This kid is going places, Reynard. You¡¯d better buckle up.¡±

    I sighed, watching Leon sip his milk, his innocent eyes sparkling. Life with him was going to be anything but dull.

    ~068

 069 Happy Birthday

    LXIX

    In a quaint little house in the Town of Goodwell, a small family of three was snuggled together on a single bed adorned with embroidery of the sun and moon. Leon stirred, pushing his blanket aside as his eyes fluttered open. The dim light of early morning barely filtered through the curtains, but it wasn¡¯t the light that woke him. It was the soft, almost musical sound of footsteps.

    To his left, his mom stood holding a small birthday cake. The single candle perched atop it danced with a warm, flickering flame, its shape unmistakably that of a five. Leon blinked sleepily, his young mind already processing what that number meant¡ªhe was five today.

    On his right, his dad approached, holding a pair of sparklers that hissed and crackled with tiny bursts of light. Both his parents wore ridiculous, brightly colored pointed hats. Leon¡¯s eyes widened, his sleepy expression replaced with startled realization.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s¡­!¡± he stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and confusion.

    But then a thought struck him, and it was as if lightning had ignited his imagination. He gasped. ¡°It is the end of the world!¡±

    Without hesitation, Leon bolted upright and made a break for it. ¡°Aliens replaced my mom and dad!¡± he cried, attempting to escape the bizarre scene.

    His dad, quick and laughing, caught him mid-flight and gently pinned him back to the bed. ¡°Calm down, buddy,¡± his dad said in a soothing voice, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

    Leon squirmed under the blanket as his dad tucked him back in, his wide eyes darting between his parents. It didn¡¯t feel like the end of the world anymore, but he wasn¡¯t entirely convinced it wasn¡¯t.

    His mom and dad exchanged a knowing glance, each suppressing laughter. Then, with synchronized deep breaths, they began to sing.

    ¡°Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Leon, Happy Birthday to you!¡±

    Leon froze. His little heart pounded as the melody washed over him, bringing with it an unfamiliar mix of emotions.

    ¡°Blow out the candle and make a wish,¡± his mom said, holding the cake closer.

    Leon leaned forward and blew, extinguishing the flame with a single breath. But he wasn¡¯t satisfied. He blew again, harder, as though he could blow the candle clean off the cake.

    ¡°Chill, buddy,¡± his dad chuckled, placing a steadying hand on Leon¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re good to go.¡±

    Leon huffed, crossing his arms in mock indignation. ¡°I¡¯m a big guy already. Stop babying me,¡± he muttered, though the slight pout on his lips gave him away.

    His dad laughed and hoisted him up despite his protests. ¡°Big guy or not, you¡¯re not walking away from this birthday breakfast.¡±

    Leon found himself deposited on the round wooden table that often served as his battlefield for knights and castles. His jaw dropped as his gaze swept over the spread before him: spaghetti glistening with sauce, golden fried chicken, crispy fries, creamy fruit salad, and even a steamed fish delicately garnished.

    His round eyes grew impossibly wider. ¡°Whoa,¡± he whispered, swallowing hard.

    His mom ruffled his hair affectionately. ¡°Dig in, birthday boy.¡±

    Leon was a smart kid. He knew exactly what he liked and didn¡¯t like, especially when it came to food. His eyes scanned the feast laid out before him, and with practiced precision, he ignored the bowl of plain white rice sitting innocently in the middle of the table. It didn¡¯t stand a chance against the mountain of spaghetti and fried chicken he eagerly piled onto his plate.

    The steamed fish sat nearby, its glistening surface tempting no one except his mom. Leon avoided even looking at it. Picking out the tiny bones was a hassle he didn¡¯t want to deal with.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Hey, you should eat some fish too,¡± his mom said, her voice warm but firm. Before he could protest, she began dismantling the fish with expert movements, removing the bones and leaving a neat, flaky portion on his plate.

    Leon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his guilt bubbling up. He knew his mom meant well, but no matter how much effort she put into making the fish more appealing, it wasn¡¯t happening. ¡°Thanks, Mom,¡± he muttered, staring intently at his spaghetti as if it could save him.

    He hesitated for only a moment before diving in with the enthusiasm only a five-year-old could muster. Of course, he ate the fish in the end¡­ It tasted¡­ okay¡­

    His dad, noticing his tension, decided to change tactics. ¡°Hey, buddy, try this. It¡¯s called a puto.¡±

    Leon picked up one of the small, muffin-like treats topped with a slice of cheese. He took a cautious bite, and his eyes lit up as the sweet, fluffy texture melted in his mouth. ¡°Mmm!¡± he hummed appreciatively before grabbing several more and placing them on his plate.

    ¡°How about you have some of this, Leon?¡± his mom said, holding up a spoonful of something new.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked warily.

    ¡°It¡¯s mashed potato,¡± his dad answered, leaning in with a grin. ¡°It¡¯s got carrots, corn, gravy, and of course, potato.¡±

    Leon grimaced, suppressing a shudder as he turned his head away. He wasn¡¯t falling for that. Mashed potatoes weren¡¯t supposed to have things in them.

    His mom shot his dad a glare. ¡°You¡¯re sabotaging me.¡±

    ¡°What? No, I¡¯m not!¡± his dad replied, though his mischievous grin suggested otherwise.

    ¡°Leon, eat something healthy,¡± his mom insisted. ¡°How about trying some okra?¡±

    Leon froze, his fork hovering over his spaghetti. He turned to his mom with wide eyes, his expression a mix of horror and betrayal.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky it¡¯s your birthday today,¡± she said with a sigh, spearing an okra for herself. She bit into it with the kind of vengeance that suggested the vegetable had personally wronged her.

    Leon watched her chew and couldn¡¯t help but recall the concept of debt. A few kids in kindergarten owed him snacks, and he imagined his mom felt the same way about the okra¡ªlike it had to pay her back somehow.

    Meanwhile, his dad was happily digging into the mashed potatoes, a look of satisfaction on his face. Leon shook his head. Adults were weird.

    Returning to the safety of his spaghetti, Leon twirled a forkful and took a big bite. His mom, clearly done with her okra, reached for the other pasta dish¡ªcreamy, white spaghetti that Leon vaguely remembered was called carbonara. She scooped a generous portion onto her plate, her eyes twinkling.

    Leon watched her for a moment, then focused back on his plate.

    Birthdays were weird, too, but as long as he had his spaghetti and chicken, he could survive anything.

    ¡°So, how¡¯s kinder? Making any friends?¡± Leon¡¯s dad asked, his voice casual as he twirled a fork in his spaghetti.

    Leon nodded, his mouth too full of chicken to answer right away. After swallowing, he replied, ¡°Yeah.¡±

    His eyes, however, weren¡¯t on his dad¡ªthey were fixed on a golden-brown cylinder sitting on a plate nearby. Its crisp, flaky surface glistened slightly under the warm light of the dining room.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Leon asked, his curiosity piqued.

    ¡°A spring roll,¡± his mom answered, passing him the plate.

    Leon grabbed one with his fork, inspecting it like a treasure. He bit into it cautiously, only for his eyes to widen as the flavors of melted cheese and savory pork filled his mouth. It was a revelation. The spring roll was incredible, especially when paired with his spaghetti.

    ¡°Do you want more cheese on your spaghetti?¡± his dad asked, grinning.

    ¡°Yes, please!¡± Leon said eagerly.

    His dad pulled out a block of cheese and a grater, then began sprinkling fresh shavings over Leon¡¯s plate. Leon watched with rapt attention, a spring roll in one hand and a chicken drumstick in the other, as his dad grated away.

    ¡°Tell me when to stop,¡± his dad said.

    ¡°Never!¡± Leon declared, his voice muffled by a mouthful of chicken.

    His dad laughed but eventually stopped, leaving Leon¡¯s spaghetti buried under a blanket of cheese. Leon didn¡¯t mind. He feasted with gusto, alternating between bites of cheesy pasta, crispy spring rolls, and juicy chicken.

    Soon, however, he realized something alarming¡ªthere was no more chicken on the table. His fork hovered mid-air as he turned to his dad with a suspicious glare.

    His dad raised his hands in mock innocence. ¡°What?¡±

    Leon squinted, his young mind racing. He knew his numbers well enough to count to ten, and he was certain he had eaten at least three drumsticks. That meant there had been more. His dad must have eaten them.

    Before Leon could voice his grudge, the kitchen door swung open, and his mom appeared with another plate of spring rolls.

    ¡°Eat!¡± she said, setting them down with a flourish. ¡°There¡¯s more where that came from!¡±

    Leon¡¯s attention was immediately diverted. The fresh spring rolls looked just as golden and crispy as the first batch.

    ¡°Thanks, Mom!¡± he said, grabbing another one.

    Unbeknownst to Leon, the spring rolls were fifty percent vegetables¡ªgrated carrots, cabbage, and green beans cleverly hidden among the pork and cheese. He didn¡¯t suspect a thing as he devoured them with relish, pairing each bite with his spaghetti.

    The chicken, in Leon¡¯s opinion, was still the best thing on the table. But the spring rolls weren¡¯t far behind. They had a satisfying crunch and just the right balance of savory and cheesy flavors.

    Leon leaned back in his chair, his small belly full and his face smeared with traces of sauce. He might not have gotten all the chicken he wanted, but with a feast like this, he decided it didn¡¯t really matter. Birthdays were pretty great after all.

    ~069

 070 Exemplar the Superheroine

    LXX

    Leora sat at the edge of the dining table, a bowl of fruit salad in her hands. She scooped a spoonful, noting how the once-frozen dessert had softened just enough to release its sweet, creamy aroma. It was her favorite treat during celebrations, a small indulgence that threatened to increase her waistline.

    Across the table, Leon was still eating like a little piggy, his plate a battlefield of spaghetti remnants, spring roll crumbs, and the occasional smear of gravy. Leora couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of worry as she watched him.

    ¡°Should we stop him?¡± she murmured, glancing at her husband, Reynard.

    Reynard shrugged but didn¡¯t answer immediately. Leora knew her concern wasn¡¯t unfounded. Leon¡¯s metabolism had always been peculiar, likely because of his aura. While Reynard had worked hard to seal it, the boy¡¯s aura hadn¡¯t disappeared entirely. It was still there, quietly influencing his growth, his energy, and apparently, his appetite.

    Leora discreetly activated her Seeker Eyes, a subtle glow flickering in her irises as she studied her son. As expected, Leon¡¯s aura was bursting, vibrant and wild like an overfed flame. She sighed and took another bite of her fruit salad, mulling over whether to intervene.

    ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± Reynard finally spoke up, leaning toward Leon. ¡°You should stop when you¡¯re full. Overstuffing yourself is bad¡ªyou¡¯ll explode.¡±

    Leon froze mid-bite, his wide eyes snapping to his dad. ¡°Explode?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

    Before Leora could explain, Reynard grabbed one of the balloon decorations hanging nearby. With surprising dexterity, he unknotted it, letting it deflate with a high-pitched squeal.

    Leora¡¯s stomach dropped. She had a bad feeling about this.

    Reynard grinned, grabbing a sharpie. He quickly drew a smiley face on the now-empty balloon. ¡°This is you,¡± he said, holding it up for Leon to see.

    Leon tilted his head, intrigued.

    ¡°Now,¡± Reynard continued, grabbing the balloon¡¯s neck, ¡°I¡¯m going to feed this balloon.¡±

    He began blowing air into it, slowly at first. The balloon swelled, soon reaching the size of Leon¡¯s head.

    ¡°This is fine,¡± Reynard said, gesturing to the balloon. ¡°But what happens if we keep feeding it?¡±

    Without waiting for a response, he blew more air into the balloon. It stretched, growing tauter with each puff, until finally¡ªPOP!

    Leon flinched, his eyes widening in horror as bits of the balloon scattered across the room.

    Leora groaned, dragging a hand down her face. ¡°Reynard,¡± she muttered, her tone exasperated.

    ¡°What?¡± he said innocently, though the glint of mischief in his eyes betrayed him.

    Leora decided to salvage the situation. She reached into the kitchen and brought out a fresh plate of chicken drumsticks, setting them in front of Leon. ¡°Now, now,¡± she said gently. ¡°The moral of the story is to know your limits, okay?¡±

    Leon stared at the drumsticks, his expression a mix of hunger and trepidation. The image of the balloon¡¯s untimely demise was still fresh in his mind.

    Leora sighed. ¡°Damn it, Reynard.¡±

    ¡°Hey, no cursing in front of the kid,¡± Reynard quipped, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

    Leora glared at him, biting back a retort as Leon cautiously picked up a drumstick. The boy glanced between his parents, his small face scrunched in concentration as if trying to decide whether he¡¯d explode or not.

    In the end, he took a tentative bite, and Leora felt a small wave of relief.

    At least the lesson had been memorable, if not exactly the way she had in mind.

    ¡°Last one, I promise,¡± Leon declared, his small voice muffled by the chicken drumstick he was gnawing on. He polished it off with the speed and efficiency of a five-year-old who knew cartoons were waiting for him.

    Without missing a beat, he fled to the living room, drumstick bone still in hand, grabbed the remote, and plopped onto the sofa. With a click, the TV switched to his favorite cartoon, and Leon sprawled out like a miniature king surveying his domain.

    ¡°Wash your hands first!¡± Leora called from the dining table, her hands busy stacking plates. ¡°You¡¯re a mess. And take a bath after you rest for a bit, you little goblin.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a goblin!¡± Leon shouted back, though his sticky fingers and sauce-streaked cheeks told a different story.

    To her relief, Leon actually obeyed. He dashed to the kitchen sink, washed his hands with a bit too much soap, and returned to the couch without missing much of his show.

    Leora sighed as she began tidying up. Reynard joined her, collecting plates and utensils while she grabbed a stack of empty Tupperware. Carefully, she packed away the leftovers, enough to cover dinner later that evening.

    The cake, however, remained untouched, its frosting gleaming invitingly.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Can I have a slice?¡± Leon¡¯s voice piped up, and they turned to see him standing by the table, his cartoon momentarily forgotten.

    Leora smiled and cut a small piece, placing it on a plate and handing it to him. ¡°Here you go.¡±

    Leon grinned, grabbed the plate, and hurried back to his spot in front of the TV, carefully balancing the cake as though it were a priceless artifact.

    Reynard wiped the table down with a damp rag, glancing toward the living room where Leon was happily devouring his cake. ¡°His sleeping¡¯s been weird lately,¡± he said, his tone low. ¡°The duration¡¯s increasing, and so is his appetite.¡±

    Leora paused, sealing a container of spaghetti. ¡°Yeah,¡± she agreed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t match the body of a five-year-old, but what can we do? We can¡¯t exactly call a doctor, right?¡±

    She placed the container in the fridge, her brow furrowing. ¡°He slept at seven last night and didn¡¯t wake up until eleven this morning. That¡¯s sixteen hours, Reynard. And it¡¯s not like he¡¯s sleep-deprived.¡±

    Reynard leaned against the counter, his expression troubled. ¡°Even when we try to wake him up, he doesn¡¯t budge. It¡¯s like he¡¯s in some kind of deep trance.¡±

    Leora nodded, her fingers tightening around the edge of the Tupperware. It was worrying¡ªmore than worrying. What if one day, Leon simply didn¡¯t wake up?

    They exchanged a glance, unspoken fears hanging in the air between them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on him,¡± Reynard said finally, breaking the silence.

    Leora gave a small nod, but her heart remained heavy. She turned back to the table, finishing the last of the cleanup. Behind her, Leon laughed at something on the TV, blissfully unaware of his parents¡¯ concerns.

    After finishing the dishes, Leora wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and wandered toward the living room. She found her boys right where she¡¯d expected¡ªon the sofa, engrossed in a cartoon about superheroes battling colorful supervillains.

    Leon sat cross-legged in the rags, eyes glued to the screen, while Reynard lounged beside him, his attention divided between the show and a notebook where he was scribbling notes.

    Leora picked up her smartphone and scrolled through the novels she¡¯d saved on her account. Reynard had updated several of his stories, she noticed with a small smile. He always found time to write, no matter how their life turned out.

    Growing bored of her phone, she set it aside and joined her boys in the living room. By the time she sat down, Leon had finished his cake, leaving the empty plate abandoned in the corner of the sofa.

    Reynard, ever the responsible one, grabbed the plate, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a moment later¡ªhopefully after washing the plate¡ª of course, he returned with a bag of chips in hand.

    Because why not?

    Reynard immediately scooted to her side, pressing against her like a six foot barnacle, trying to act cute. Leora chuckled and let him snuggle close.

    Reynard opened the bag of chips, the familiar crinkle drawing Leon¡¯s attention. Leora reached over, grabbed a few chips, and popped them into her mouth. ¡°Not bad,¡± she murmured, savoring the salty crunch.

    Leon, however, had other plans. He sprang to his feet, jumped around the sofa a few times with all the energy of a wind-up toy, and plopped himself squarely between his parents. With an audacious grin, he grabbed the bag of chips as if it were his birthright.

    Leora raised an eyebrow, amused. ¡°Just know your limits, kiddo. You don¡¯t want to go pop, do you?¡±

    Leon froze, the bag of chips clutched to his chest. A determined look crossed his face, and he declared with unwavering conviction, ¡°I won¡¯t go pop!¡±

    Leora laughed, but her amusement turned to curiosity when she noticed a faint wisp of steam rising from Leon¡¯s head.

    Reynard frowned. ¡°Uh, is that¡­ normal?¡±

    Leora activated her Seeker Eyes, her gaze sharpening as she focused on her son. Sure enough, Leon¡¯s aura was burning brightly, amplifying his metabolism to fuel his endless energy. He was like a tiny furnace, stoking his flames to keep going.

    ¡°Super baby,¡± Leora muttered under her breath, a mix of pride and exasperation coloring her tone.

    Noticing Reynard¡¯s concern, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Reynard responded by wrapping his hand over hers, their silent communication saying what words couldn¡¯t: It¡¯s fine. Everything¡¯s fine.

    Leon, oblivious to their exchange, continued munching on chips, happily sandwiched between his parents.

    The three of them sat there, huddled together on the sofa, the cartoon playing in the background. In that moment, the worries about Leon¡¯s aura, his strange metabolism, and the challenges of raising a not-so-ordinary child faded away.

    For now, everything was fine.

    Reynard leaned back on the sofa, his eyes glued to the TV, a perplexed expression settling on his face. ¡°Is it just me, or¡­ is it normal for female superheroes to wear so little?¡±

    Leora, casually nibbling on a chip, considered his question. Hunters in general wore whatever suited their style. She preferred casual clothes, Selena was all about being stylish, and Atropos¡ªa walking enigma¡ªwore a maid outfit that defied practicality.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about wearing less,¡± Leora replied thoughtfully, ¡°but they sure make it look good on them.¡±

    Reynard turned to her, then glanced at Leon, who was still absorbed in the cartoon, and back to her. ¡°W-what?¡± Leora stammered under his gaze.

    ¡°Is it okay to show young minds nudity? Or even, you know, slight nudity?¡±

    Leora faltered. ¡°W-well, this show is actually rated PG¡­¡± She trailed off, unsure of her own defense.

    Grabbing her phone, she quickly searched for the cartoon¡¯s title, World Heroes, and confirmed that it was indeed rated PG. Triumphantly, though guiltily, she showed the rating to Reynard. ¡°See?¡±

    Her small victory was short-lived. The show panned to a new scene featuring the techno-villain Torque. He stood triumphantly over the captured heroine, Exemplar, who was bound upright to a suspiciously advanced table with glowing restraints.

    ¡°I won¡¯t betray my friends!¡± Exemplar declared, her voice defiant. ¡°I won¡¯t give up any information to you!¡±

    Torque smirked, holding up a feather. ¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to break you.¡±

    Leora froze, her eyes darting around for the remote. Oh no, not this episode¡­

    ¡°Where¡¯s the remote?¡± she muttered, panic rising.

    On screen, Torque brandished the feather menacingly. ¡°Face the power of my tickle machine, designed to torment you endlessly!¡±

    Exemplar burst into uncontrollable laughter as the villain began his so-called ¡°interrogation.¡± Reynard sat frozen, his expression a mix of befuddlement and disbelief. Leon continued munching his chips, blissfully unfazed.

    Leora was now frantically searching for the remote. ¡°Where is that thing?¡± she hissed, knowing full well what came next.

    Exemplar, still laughing uncontrollably, gasped out, ¡°I won¡¯t break!¡±

    ¡°I see that,¡± Torque replied, pulling out a whip-like device. ¡°Which is why I¡¯ll use a different tool!¡± The whip began to vibrate ominously. ¡°Behold, my pleasure machine¡ªa weapon that acts for my pleas¡ª¡±

    Before Torque could finish his sentence, Leora¡¯s aura flared. She vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing in front of the TV. With a single punch, she shattered the screen, leaving a jagged hole where the villain¡¯s face had been moments before.

    Leon and Reynard clung to each other, their eyes wide in shock. The chips bag crinkled loudly in Leon¡¯s hands as he hugged it for dear life.

    Reynard swallowed hard. ¡°You¡­ you could have just unplugged the TV.¡±

    Leora stood there, her fist still clenched, staring at the destroyed screen. ¡°I panicked,¡± she admitted, her voice shaky.

    Leon blinked at the ruined television, then looked at his mother. ¡°So¡­ no more cartoons?¡±

    Leora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Not this one, at least.¡±

    ~070

 071 The Life I Wanted

    LXXI

    After the TV fiasco, we had no choice but to figure out something else to pass the time. It was a fine Saturday, the kind of day where the sun was warm but not overbearing, and the breeze carried the faint scent of pine from the woods nearby. Perfect for a celebration. The problem was, I had no idea how to fill the day.

    I¡¯d had a few birthdays myself growing up with Grandma. They were simple¡ªeither a meal out or a feast at home, followed by the grand finale of opening presents. But for Leon, we¡¯d agreed to save his presents for later, which left me scratching my head for something else to make the day special.

    Leora wasn¡¯t much help. She didn¡¯t really have birthdays growing up, so the task of planning fell squarely on my shoulders. After some thought, I rummaged through the storage closet and dragged out an old Scrabble box from the toy chest.

    ¡°Who wants to play Scrabble?¡± I announced, trying to sound enthusiastic.

    Leon¡¯s response was immediate. ¡°Boo~!¡±

    Leora didn¡¯t even look up from her phone. ¡°Go die in a ditch.¡±

    Whoa. Harsh words from my loving wife.

    ¡°Uhh¡­ okay,¡± I muttered, feeling my ego deflate. ¡°How about we buy a new TV? And maybe hit the arcade while we¡¯re at it?¡±

    That got their attention. For some reason, when it came to these things, Leon and Leora shared a single brain cell.

    ¡°WOOHOO~!¡± they cheered in unison, their enthusiasm making me laugh despite myself.

    I headed out to the garage and rolled my mom-type SUV into the driveway. Don¡¯t judge me¡ªit¡¯s practical. Leora immediately claimed the shotgun seat while Leon settled in the back.

    ¡°Dad, can I sit in the front?¡± Leon asked from behind.

    ¡°Nope,¡± Leora cut in, ¡°Only adults sit in the front.¡±

    Leon turned to his Mom, glaring at her. ¡°Mom, shut up.¡±

    ¡°Whoa, attitude!¡± I shot him a warning look. ¡°And seatbelt!¡±

    Leora leaned forward and tugged on Leon¡¯s seatbelt to make sure it was secure. Then, because she couldn¡¯t help herself, she pinched his nose and ruffled his hair.

    ¡°Come on, get a life, Mom!¡± Leon whined, squirming away from her hand.

    I had a sneaking suspicion Selena was behind his recent sass. She practically lived at our house half the time, and her sharp tongue was rubbing off on Leon in the worst ways.

    Once everyone was settled, I pulled out of the driveway and headed for Goodwell Mall. It might¡¯ve been a small town, but we still had a decent mall.

    ¡°Anyone want to catch a movie while we¡¯re there?¡± I asked as we approached the main road.

    ¡°Ooh, I wanna watch Deadman!¡± Leon piped up, practically bouncing in his seat.

    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°Isn¡¯t that rated R?¡±

    I grinned. ¡°We can watch it, Leora. We¡¯ll just leave Leon in the kiddie pool area.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unfair!¡± Leon protested, crossing his arms.

    ¡°Just kidding, buddy,¡± I said, chuckling.

    Leora shot me a look that said she wasn¡¯t entirely sure I was joking. Leon, on the other hand, seemed ready to launch into a full debate about why he was mature enough for an R-rated movie.

    In the end, we skipped the movies and went straight to the arcade. Leon¡¯s excitement was palpable as I exchanged some cash for tokens. He clutched them in his small hands, practically vibrating with anticipation.

    Leon threw himself into the games with the unrestrained enthusiasm only a five-year-old could muster. He flitted from one machine to the next, testing his skills. The games that demanded physical ability, like the punching bag or basketball hoops, didn¡¯t see him setting any high scores. But the racing games and shooting simulators? He absolutely dominated those.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Of course, I made sure to keep his aura locked using the modified Soul Chain I¡¯d developed. It wasn¡¯t just for fairness in the arcade¡ªit was for his safety. I¡¯d discovered that his aura, as remarkable as it was, had a troubling side effect. Prolonged use of it seemed to negatively affect his psyche. Selena had been the first to point it out, back before things could¡¯ve spiraled.

    I remembered the version of Leon from Hunterworks, the novel I wrote. There, he was a ruthless, borderline psychopathic character, willing to crush anyone who stood in his way. He¡¯d only show his boyish charm when it suited his goals. It wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d intentionally written¡ªit just seemed to happen as the story developed. Now, seeing Leon as my real-life son, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how much of that personality was tied to his aura.

    Leora¡¯s voice broke through my thoughts. ¡°Rey, what¡¯s that?¡±

    I followed her gaze to a carousel near the back of the arcade. Its colorful lights spun slowly, and the painted unicorns and horses looked like something out of a fairytale.

    ¡°It¡¯s called a carousel,¡± I said.

    Her eyes lit up, and I could tell she wanted to try it. Leora didn¡¯t have much of a childhood, so these small things always fascinated her.

    ¡°Hey, Leon, do you want to try that?¡± she asked, her voice full of hope.

    Leon scrunched his nose. ¡°It looks boring.¡±

    Leora wasn¡¯t giving up that easily. ¡°Come on, it looks like it¡¯ll be fun.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t believe my wife was trying to peer-pressure our son into riding a carousel. Before Leon could suggest another game, I grabbed Leora¡¯s hand and playfully ran toward the carousel.

    ¡°Leon, we¡¯re riding the carousel! We might leave you behind if you don¡¯t catch up!¡± I called over my shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re so mean!¡± Leon shouted, but I saw him sprinting after us anyway.

    When I stopped abruptly, Leora bumped into my chest. She looked up at me, confused. I was a bit taller than her, and the way her wide eyes met mine gave me a mischievous idea.

    ¡°If you wanted to ride the carousel, you could¡¯ve just said so,¡± I teased.

    Her ears turned red, and she froze like a deer caught in headlights. I smirked, feeling a flicker of pride that I still had it in me to fluster her.

    After paying the fee, I lifted Leon onto one of the unicorns. His earlier reluctance evaporated instantly.

    ¡°This¡­ this looks¡­¡± He paused, then his face lit up with determination. ¡°I am Leon the Great Knight, Master of the Sun, and Devourer of Chickens!¡±

    A few people nearby chuckled at his declaration. Leora stood beside him, holding onto him as if he might fall off.

    ¡°He¡¯s a big boy, you know,¡± I said with a sigh, a mischievous thought brewing in my mind.

    Without warning, I scooped Leora up into a bridal carry, jumped onto a unicorn, and declared, ¡°And I am Reynard, Master of the Pen, Husband to Princess Leora¡ª¡±

    I didn¡¯t even get to finish before her elbow met my chin.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± I groaned, gently setting her down. So much for theatrics.

    A few moments later, I was standing outside the carousel, nursing my bruised pride and taking pictures with my phone. Leon and Leora rode side by side, each on their own unicorn, as the carousel spun around.

    The cheerful tune played once, then twice. Leon¡¯s laughter rang out above the music, and even Leora looked like she was enjoying herself.

    I rubbed my jaw absently. At least she held back. With all my aura focused on sealing Leon¡¯s, I couldn¡¯t afford to use any for self-defense.

    Still, seeing the two of them happy made the whole thing worth it.

    I was snapping pictures of Leon and Leora with Leora¡¯s smartphone when I heard a familiar voice call out.

    ¡°Reynard, I thought I¡¯d find you here,¡± Selena said, striding toward me.

    She was eating cotton candy, her leather jacket slung casually over her shoulders, and her denim pants looking as sharp as ever.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re home early,¡± I replied, lowering the phone.

    ¡°It¡¯s my godson¡¯s birthday,¡± she said, gesturing toward Leon. ¡°I tried to get back as fast as I could.¡±

    ¡°You practically live in our basement,¡± I teased.

    Selena devoured the last of her cotton candy in one bite, then pulled out a camera seemingly from thin air. ¡°Go back inside. Let me take some pictures. I¡¯ll get better angles than you, at least.¡±

    ¡°Ouch,¡± I muttered, tucking Leora¡¯s phone into my pocket and handing the carousel operator more money.

    I joined Leora and Leon inside, letting Selena take over photography duties. We posed for a few more pictures with her in them this time. After the carousel, we roamed the mall. We were tempted to watch a movie at Selena¡¯s suggestion but decided against it, shopped for clothes for everyone, and finally bought a new TV.

    By the time we got home, it was already late afternoon.

    ¡°Lena, help me in the kitchen,¡± Leora said as she carried some groceries inside. ¡°Rey, you watch Leon.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow. ¡°What is this? A double standard? Women belong in the kitchen now?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± Leora retorted. ¡°Just help me prepare the table, reheat some food, and maybe cook a few more dishes. We¡¯re having visitors.¡±

    Selena blinked. ¡°Aren¡¯t you lot supposed to be off the grid?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± Leora said confidently. ¡°We prepared, didn¡¯t we?¡±

    With that, the two of them disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to deal with the wrecked TV.

    I dragged the broken appliance out to the curb and set up the new one. Leon sat nearby, humming a tune as he played with one of the toys he¡¯d won at the arcade. I kept an eye on him as I worked, making sure he didn¡¯t get into trouble.

    Once the TV was installed, the smell of food began wafting through the house. I barely had time to enjoy it before visitors started arriving.

    Leon¡¯s classmates trickled in, along with their guardians and a few of the neighborhood kids. I scrambled to set up the area by the porch, but Selena swooped in to help just in time. Together, we set up tarps, chairs, tables, and a few strings of lights. She even dragged out a case of beer for the dads who showed up.

    I greeted guests, accepted gifts on Leon¡¯s behalf, and did my best to keep everything running smoothly. Meanwhile, Leon was having the time of his life, laughing and talking with his friends.

    Watching him, a smile spread across my face.

    This was life.

    This was the life I wanted.

    ~071

 072 The DIVINE

    LXXII

    Good Labs was a sleek, sterile marvel of modern architecture, its polished surfaces reflecting the endless pursuit of progress within its walls. Atropos stepped into the lobby, her every movement precise and deliberate. Though she was still the Director of Operations for the Hunter¡¯s Association, she had recently taken on another significant role¡ªhead researcher for a cutting-edge technology development initiative. It was a position President Bob had personally pushed for her to accept, eager to see the project come to fruition under her meticulous guidance.

    Her schedule was growing increasingly packed, but Atropos didn¡¯t mind. Efficiency was her forte. As she approached the elevator, she mentally dialed the phone number of her younger brother, Reynard, using her integrated neural systems.

    The elevator doors slid closed, the soft hum of the machinery accompanying the familiar ringing tone in her mind.

    Reynard answered almost immediately. ¡°Hey, Atropos.¡±

    ¡°I am so sorry I can¡¯t attend little Leon¡¯s birthday,¡± she said, her tone as close to apologetic as her typically stoic demeanor allowed.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°You¡¯re busy. We understand.¡±

    ¡°Did you receive the package?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°I think it¡¯s excessive.¡±

    ¡°You... opened it?¡± she asked, a hint of warning in her voice.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t. I don¡¯t know what it is.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Atropos said, allowing a small smirk to form on her lips. ¡°I¡¯d hate you if you ruined the surprise.¡±

    Reynard sighed. ¡°It¡¯s nearly the size of a car, Atropos. Even I know it¡¯s excessive. Even with aura, it¡¯s tough to heft around.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you have noodle arms and weak aura,¡± she teased.

    ¡°Ouch,¡± Reynard muttered.

    ¡°You have Leora and Selena there. Have them do the heavy lifting.¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°The neighbor saw and now they think even worse of me.¡±

    Atropos had to suppress a laugh, though the thought of her brother¡¯s predicament amused her. Normally, she kept her emotions locked away, her mechanical inclinations favoring logic and precision over sentiment. But moments like these¡ªinteracting with her family¡ªbrought out something... human.

    ¡°What even is in it?¡± Reynard asked.

    ¡°A slide,¡± she answered matter-of-factly.

    ¡°A slide?¡± he echoed, incredulous.

    ¡°Yes, a slide. And also a swing set,¡± she clarified. ¡°The toy shop was amenable to the idea.¡±

    ¡°A toy shop?¡± Reynard asked, his tone growing more skeptical.

    ¡°It¡¯s a joint project between a toy company and a construction company. Don¡¯t worry¡ªit¡¯s safe.¡±

    ¡°Does it come with instructions like furniture?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on¡­¡±

    ¡°It should make it easier for you to assemble with the instructions provided,¡± she said, though a hint of dry amusement crept into her voice.

    ¡°If only you knew,¡± Reynard muttered.

    ¡°Is there a problem?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± he said quickly. ¡°I just finished the treehouse in the backyard. The slide and swings will be perfect there.¡±

    ¡°I hope Leon likes it,¡± Atropos said, her tone softening. ¡°From what I hear, the park is far from your neighborhood. This way, Leon will be safer too. The less exposure he has outside, the better.¡±

    ¡°Leon will be fine,¡± Reynard reassured her. ¡°Goodwell is pretty insular.¡±

    The elevator chimed as it reached her floor, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss. Atropos glanced at the corridor ahead and said hastily, ¡°I have work to do. I guess this is goodbye.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye then, sister,¡± Reynard said warmly. ¡°Stay safe out there.¡±

    Atropos paused for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in her chest at the word sister.

    The Good Labs were a marvel of engineering, buried several kilometers underground in a labyrinthine complex designed for secrecy and security. To call it isolated was an understatement. The aura-reinforced walls lining the corridors shimmered faintly under the artificial lights, a constant reminder of the safeguards against intrusion. Every hallway was lined with reinforced doors requiring both facial recognition and ID scans to pass.

    It wasn¡¯t just physical barriers that made the labs secure. Jamming technology was omnipresent, disrupting all unauthorized signals and ensuring no communication devices could function without clearance. Even the underground location contributed to the sense of isolation. Here, in this tightly controlled environment, every movement and action was scrutinized.

    Atropos was one of the few exceptions to the strict protocols. Her authority allowed her freedom of movement within the facility, but she never abused it. The scientists and researchers working on this classified project weren¡¯t so lucky. Unlike Atropos, who could leave and return at will, they were confined to the lab for extended periods.

    The Hunter¡¯s Association wasn¡¯t heartless, though. Personnel were allowed to contact their families twice a week in a supervised environment, ensuring that even in their isolation, they could maintain some semblance of normalcy.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Atropos walked through the corridors, passing through multiple security checks without pause. Her gait was purposeful, her mind focused on the task ahead. After several turns, she arrived at the main laboratory, the heart of the operation. This was where the simulations and experiments for the new technology were conducted.

    The lab was vast, its walls lined with monitors displaying data streams and simulation results. At the center of the room stood Robert ¡°Bob¡± Arkwright, the President of the Hunter¡¯s Association. Despite his position, he was actively participating in the simulations, his sleeves rolled up and a focused expression on his face.

    When he spotted Atropos, he straightened and gave her a mock stern look. ¡°Atropos, you¡¯re late.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Robert,¡± she replied evenly, her tone polite but distant.

    Bob winced theatrically. ¡°Oh, come on¡­ Don¡¯t be so formal with me. Still holding a grudge about me trying to use Reynard as bait?¡±

    Atropos¡¯ gaze narrowed slightly, but she relented. ¡°Fine, Bob.¡±

    Bob grinned, his usual charisma shining through. ¡°That¡¯s better. I swear, I¡¯ll make it up to you. I¡¯ve got some ideas for how to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s focus on the task at hand,¡± Atropos interrupted, her tone clipped but not unkind. She gestured toward the nearest monitor. ¡°How are the simulations progressing?¡±

    Bob sighed but didn¡¯t push further. ¡°Not as smoothly as I¡¯d like. The projections are solid, but we¡¯re running into compatibility issues with the aura matrix. I was hoping you could take a look.¡±

    Atropos nodded and moved to the console, her mechanical fingers flying over the keyboard as she analyzed the data. The familiar rhythm of her work settled over her, her earlier irritation with Bob fading into the background.

    As the two delved into the intricacies of the project, the room hummed with quiet intensity. Despite the tension that occasionally surfaced between them, their shared commitment to the mission was unshakable. This was the nature of their work¡ªhigh stakes, high stress, but always driven by a desire to protect humanity.

    The air in the lab was tense, though not from the work itself. Bob and Atropos had a relationship that defied easy description. It wasn¡¯t romantic in the conventional sense, yet it went beyond mere professional camaraderie. Their dynamic was as intricate as the aura-based technology they worked on.

    Bob was a man of human instincts, though he liked to think of himself as coldly logical. Yet time and again, his emotions betrayed his carefully constructed rationality. Atropos, on the other hand, was the inverse. Lacking human emotions, she approached everything with calculated precision. And yet, despite her lack of feelings, she found herself drawn to the complexity of what it meant to be human¡ªperhaps even to Bob himself.

    Atropos wasn¡¯t sure if what she felt for Bob was affection or a mere experiment in understanding humanity. She had once told herself it was the latter. Even after Bob¡¯s reckless ambition had nearly cost Reynard his life, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to hate him. Resentment, perhaps, but not hatred. Being ¡°human¡± was complicated for Atropos.

    For Bob, being human came naturally, even when it was inconvenient.

    Bob glanced at her as she studied the monitor. ¡°What do you think of dinner later at seven?¡±

    ¡°I am a machine,¡± Atropos replied without looking up. ¡°I don¡¯t need food.¡±

    Bob smirked. ¡°But you still have taste buds¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she cut him off.

    He leaned against the console, undeterred. ¡°How about we clock out early and visit Reynard¡¯s family? We could use the World Path for a quick getaway.¡±

    Atropos froze, her fingers pausing mid-type. She turned to him, her voice calm but firm. ¡°The World Path? That¡¯s an abuse of authority, and Reynard wouldn¡¯t like it.¡±

    An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the faint hum of machinery. The nearby staff quietly distanced themselves, sensing the shift in mood.

    Atropos inwardly sighed and returned her focus to the screen. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with the aura matrix. This project is based on the research paper A Study on Thematic Powers Manifested by Aura, correct? Something Reynard wrote?¡±

    Bob nodded.

    ¡°I suggest we involve Reynard in this project,¡± she continued.

    ¡°Already tried that,¡± Bob said with a shrug. ¡°He rejected the offer outright. Why don¡¯t you do the recruiting? He might listen to you.¡±

    Atropos stilled. The thought of working with Reynard again appealed to her. Yet, she hesitated. She didn¡¯t want to risk their already tenuous relationship.

    Bob tilted his head, studying her expression¡ªor lack thereof. ¡°Let me guess, you don¡¯t want to be hated?¡±

    Atropos finally turned to him, her tone flat but sharp. ¡°You are annoying, Robert.¡±

    Bob winced dramatically, clutching his chest as though wounded. ¡°Bob! Please call me Bob!¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond, her gaze already back on the monitor. But for a brief moment, her lips twitched¡ªalmost imperceptibly¡ªas if amused. Bob didn¡¯t miss it, and he smiled to himself.

    Their relationship might have been complicated, but in its own way, it worked.

    Atropos stood before the massive screen dominating the main laboratory of Good Labs, her fingers hovering over the console. The culmination of months of grueling work, sleepless nights, and cutting-edge innovation was finally before her. The lab buzzed with an air of tension as the staff watched the display showing the simulation results: [99% Accuracy].

    Bob leaned against the edge of a workstation, arms crossed, a rare seriousness etched on his face. Despite his usual lighthearted demeanor, even he couldn¡¯t ignore the gravity of what they were about to unleash.

    Atropos broke the silence, her tone as sharp as the sterile air around them.

    ¡°The intent of this project is to create an artifact capable of divining the ¡®Theme¡¯ of a person¡¯s aura. In the paper authored by Reynard, this ¡®Theme¡¯ was referred to as a ¡®Gift¡¯¡ªa singular manifestation of an individual¡¯s innate potential.¡±

    She tapped a key, bringing up diagrams of aura flows and energy matrices on the display.

    ¡°According to the theory, a person only has one true Gift, a core essence that defines their abilities. However, hunters like us spend years, even decades, honing Special Abilities that stem from that Gift. If this technology works as intended, we could reduce that time to mere months.¡±

    The murmurs among the staff grew louder. They all knew the implications.

    Bob raised an eyebrow, breaking into her monologue. ¡°And that terrifies you, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Atropos turned to him, her voice steady but laced with unease. ¡°If this becomes public, the repercussions will be immense. The Government won¡¯t like it. The World Order¡¯s stance is unpredictable. Hunters are already a divisive force, and now we¡¯re proposing to arm the entire world with knowledge of their potential? This could upend everything.¡±

    Bob pushed off the workstation and approached her, his steps deliberate. ¡°And yet, isn¡¯t that the point? The dissemination of aura knowledge will be a bloody path, yes, but it¡¯s necessary. Cryptids are growing in number and strength. Hunters alone can¡¯t stem the tide forever. If we don¡¯t empower the mundanes¡ªgive them a fighting chance¡ªwe¡¯re dooming them to slaughter.¡±

    Atropos sighed, momentarily faltering under the weight of the decision. ¡°Have it your way, Bob,¡± she muttered, turning back to the console.

    With a flick of her mind, she slotted in the final authorization code, the screen shifting to display a glowing green button. Her hands hovered for a moment, as if the enormity of the act was finally sinking in. The lab fell silent.

    ¡°I¡¯ve poured every resource and mind available into this project. This is the first aura-infused software, a Maker-artifact that exists solely in the world of zeroes and ones. It¡¯s something that should never have been possible. And yet¡­¡±

    Her finger tapped the green button.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, witness the birth of the Dynamic Interface for Verification and Identification of Natural Energies. Or, as I prefer to call it, DIVINE.¡±

    The room erupted in activity as the screen lit up with data streams, the software booting up for the first time. Atropos stepped back, watching as the program came to life. It was more than a tool¡ªit was a revolution.

    Bob smirked, his voice breaking the tension. ¡°That¡¯s excessive, but I like it.¡±

    Atropos didn¡¯t respond, her eyes locked on the display. She thought of Reynard, of Leora, of Leon. She thought of the countless lives this technology could change¡ªfor better or worse.

    For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something better.

    ~072

 073 A Late-Night Visitor

    LXXIII

    The night had grown quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the backyard and the soft hum of the kitchen light. The birthday party had been a success¡ªawesome, as Leon would say¡ªand I couldn¡¯t help but smile as I glanced at the heap of brightly colored wrapping paper and the remnants of party decorations scattered around.

    Leon was already asleep upstairs, sprawled out in his bed, clutching one of his new toys like it was the most precious thing in the world. That was good. He¡¯d been running on sugar and adrenaline for hours, and the crash was inevitable.

    Meanwhile, I was left to tackle the aftermath.

    Leora and Selena were in the kitchen, tackling the mountain of dishes. I heard the clinking of plates and the low murmur of their conversation, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. I was in the living room, stuffing trash bags with paper plates, napkins, and what felt like an infinite number of cupcake wrappers.

    ¡°This is the last time we¡¯re hosting a party this big,¡± I muttered to myself, though I knew it wasn¡¯t true.

    Selena popped her head out of the kitchen with a mischievous grin on her face. ¡°You say that now, but wait until next year. Or Christmas. Or, I don¡¯t know, National Leon Day.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t give him ideas,¡± I shot back, tying off one of the trash bags and hauling it toward the door.

    Leora emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. ¡°Selena¡¯s right, you know. You spoil him too much.¡±

    ¡°Me? You¡¯re the one who bought him a remote-controlled helicopter the size of a small dog.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t as bad as a whole slide and a swing set.

    Leora rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, she joined me in picking up stray party hats and balloons. Selena followed, grabbing a broom and sweeping up crumbs with an exaggerated flair.

    ¡°You know,¡± Selena began, leaning on the broom like it was a staff, ¡°this was actually kind of nice. Loud, chaotic, and full of sugar-induced screaming, but nice.¡±

    I snorted. ¡°High praise coming from you.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m serious,¡± she said, nudging me with the broom handle. ¡°You¡¯ve got a good thing here, Reynard. Leon¡¯s lucky to have you.¡±

    Her words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn¡¯t know how to respond. I glanced at Leora, who was busy folding up the collapsible chairs we¡¯d borrowed from the neighbors. She didn¡¯t say anything, but the small smile on her face told me she agreed.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said finally, tossing another trash bag toward the growing pile by the door.

    By the time we¡¯d finished cleaning up, the house was quiet and mostly back to its normal state. The kitchen was spotless, the living room cleared of debris, and the backyard dark and still under the faint glow of the porch light.

    Leora stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh. ¡°I¡¯m going to check on Leon,¡± she said, heading upstairs.

    Selena grabbed a beer from the fridge and plopped down on the couch. ¡°You¡¯ve earned a break, Dad of the Year,¡± she said, patting the spot next to her.

    I hesitated for a moment, then joined her, cracking open my own beer. We sat in comfortable silence, the events of the day replaying in my mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing good, Reynard,¡± Selena said after a while, her voice softer than usual.

    I didn¡¯t reply, but I nodded, letting her words sink in as I sat up and set aside my beer.

    Selena leaned back on the couch, nursing her beer as I stacked the last of the chairs by the wall. The house was finally clean, Leon was asleep, and the air had settled into that rare kind of peace that only came after a chaotic day.

    And yet, I couldn¡¯t resist stirring the pot.

    ¡°So,¡± I said, turning toward her with a sly grin, ¡°when are you getting married?¡±

    Selena choked on her beer mid-sip, spraying it across the rag she¡¯d been using to wipe down the coffee table. She glared at me, her face a mix of shock and irritation.

    ¡°What the hells, man?¡± she spluttered, wiping her mouth.

    ¡°Worth it,¡± I said with a laugh, leaning against the wall. ¡°I mean, I told you like two years ago about who your soulmate¡¯s gonna be. Wouldn¡¯t it be nice to finally meet him? Unlock your bloodline powers and all that?¡±

    Selena narrowed her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Oh sure, because everyone loves hearing about their supposed soulmate from a discount precog who can¡¯t keep his mouth shut.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve been nothing but honest with you,¡± I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. ¡°And I do care about your interests, you know. So enlighten me¡ªwhat¡¯s stopping you?¡±

    Selena snorted, setting her beer down with more force than necessary. ¡°You¡¯re pretty dense for a guy who¡¯s supposed to see the future.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, crossing my arms. ¡°But humor me. What¡¯s the holdup? It¡¯s not like being soulmates guarantees you¡¯ll actually like each other. Who knows? Maybe it¡¯s just a one-night stand. That¡¯s all you need, right? Boom, bloodline powers unlocked. Maybe even bump you up to Ascended status.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    I watched her carefully, gauging her reaction. Becoming Ascended wasn¡¯t just about power¡ªit would make her a blindspot to the Prophet¡¯s precognition, giving her a real shot at taking him down. It wasn¡¯t just for her; it was for all of us.

    Selena stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

    ¡°You make it sound so easy,¡± she said, her voice quieter now. ¡°Like it¡¯s just a checkbox on some cosmic to-do list.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked.

    She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. Because even if you¡¯re right¡ªand I¡¯m not saying you are¡ªit¡¯s not just about me. What if he¡¯s not ready? What if I¡¯m not ready? And what if¡­¡± She trailed off, her fingers tightening around the edge of the rag.

    ¡°What if what?¡± I prompted, sitting down across from her.

    Selena hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to be tied to someone just because fate says so? What if I want it to be my choice?¡±

    I leaned back, considering her words. She had a point. For all my talk about destiny and soulmates, I knew better than most how heavy those chains could feel.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said finally. ¡°But you¡¯re still wasting potential.¡±

    Selena rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile on her lips. ¡°You¡¯re impossible, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I said, standing up and stretching. ¡°And you¡¯re stubborn. But hey, that¡¯s what makes us such a great team.¡±

    She laughed, a genuine, light sound that cut through the lingering tension. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Don¡¯t think I¡¯m letting you off the hook for that one, though.¡±

    I grinned. ¡°Looking forward to it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± Selena said suddenly. Her voice was quiet but firm, the kind of tone she used when she¡¯d decided to let her guard down¡ªjust a little. ¡°It¡¯s stupid enough that for my magical bloodline to activate, I need to lose my virginity to my soulmate.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of my beer. ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to restart a conversation.¡±

    She shot me a look but continued. ¡°Do you know I inherited this blood from my mom? She told me about my special bloodline powers and literally begged¡ªlike, on her dying breath¡ªthat I had to awaken it so my stupid dad would accept me back.¡±

    ¡°Silhouette, right?¡± I asked, leaning back against the counter. ¡°Did you ask him? I believe he¡¯d accept you if you just asked.¡±

    Selena snorted, her expression darkening. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯d accept me. Of course, as just another asset.¡± She downed a swig of beer, her voice hardening. ¡°That¡¯s not what I want. I wanted to be seen as his daughter, not a tool. Daddy issues¡­ so lame, right?¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°Leon will join the club sometime soon, so you wouldn¡¯t be so lonely.¡±

    Selena glared at me, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying a hint of amusement. ¡°Stop with the dark humor. It doesn¡¯t suit you.¡±

    I smirked, taking another sip. ¡°You¡¯re the one who said it was complicated. I¡¯m just trying to lighten the mood.¡±

    Selena sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Rey. It¡¯s not just about activating some power or proving something to my dad. It¡¯s¡­ everything. The expectations. The legacy. The pressure to be something I¡¯m not even sure I want to be.¡±

    I nodded slowly. ¡°I get it more than you think. But you know what I¡¯ve learned? Sometimes, the people who put all that weight on us¡ªparents, society, whatever¡ªthey don¡¯t actually know what they¡¯re asking. They¡¯re just passing down their own baggage, hoping we¡¯ll carry it better than they did.¡±

    Selena stared at me, her expression unreadable. ¡°And what if I can¡¯t carry it?¡±

    ¡°Then you drop it,¡± I said simply as I picked up my beer from where I left it. ¡°And you decide what¡¯s worth picking back up.¡±

    She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze distant. Then she sighed again, softer this time. ¡°You make it sound so easy.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I admitted. ¡°But you¡¯re strong, Selena. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. And you¡¯ve got people who care about you, whether or not you awaken your bloodline or prove anything to anyone.¡±

    She gave me a small, tired smile. ¡°Thanks, Rey. You¡¯re still an ass, though.¡±

    ¡°Guilty as charged,¡± I said with a grin, raising my bottle in a mock toast.

    Selena clinked hers against mine, and for the first time that night, the weight in the room seemed to lift just a little.

    The doorbell rang, sharp and unexpected, cutting through the quiet hum of the night. I glanced at the clock on the wall: 11:45 PM. What in the loving hell?

    Selena was already halfway to the door, her beer abandoned on the table. ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± she said curtly.

    I didn¡¯t argue. In my current state, with aura completely tied up in the Soul Chain I used to keep Leon in check, I was about as useful as a blunt knife. Still, the unexpected timing put me on edge. My mind raced through contingency plans¡ªsnap the Soul Chain, warn Leora, prepare a counter-attack¡­

    My thoughts were interrupted by a voice I recognized instantly.

    ¡°Where is my brother?¡±

    Atropos.

    Selena¡¯s voice was sharp and dry, laced with annoyance. ¡°That¡¯s tough. Party¡¯s over. Go home.¡±

    I frowned, setting my beer aside. At first, I thought maybe she¡¯d come to check if Leon liked her gift¡ªor if he¡¯d opened it yet. That thought quickly turned to guilt when I remembered the massive box was still dumped in the garage. I hadn¡¯t even started assembling the slide and swing for the treehouse.

    But Atropos wouldn¡¯t show up this late over something so trivial, right? Then again, Leon¡¯s birthday wouldn¡¯t be trivial to her. Still, this wasn¡¯t about the gift.

    I sighed, pushing myself off the couch. When I walked to the door, Atropos¡¯s expression shifted ever so slightly. Her eyes sparkled briefly at the sight of me, though she quickly masked it. Selena, on the other hand, clicked her tongue in irritation.

    ¡°We did it,¡± Atropos said, her voice calm but charged with restrained excitement. ¡°We made the technology that could help even mundanes learn aura.¡±

    I blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    Selena leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. ¡°She¡¯s probably drunk,¡± she muttered, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

    Atropos ignored her. ¡°It¡¯s real, Reynard. The simulations were successful. The artifact¡ªthe software¡ªit works. A mundane could now learn aura techniques and even develop special abilities in months, not years.¡±

    Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

    It looked like the¡­ research paper I turned over to Bob worked¡­

    I crossed my arms, my gaze narrowing. ¡°And you came here at midnight to tell me this because¡­?¡±

    Atropos hesitated, glancing briefly at Selena before turning her attention back to me. ¡°Because this changes everything, Reynard. And because you¡¯re the only one I trust to understand the weight of what we¡¯ve done.¡±

    Selena scoffed. ¡°Oh, please. Spare me the melodrama.¡±

    I held up a hand, silencing her. ¡°Atropos, you¡¯ve got the whole Association behind you, not to mention Bob himself. What do you need from me?¡±

    Atropos took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°I need your perspective. Your insight. This technology¡­ it could save lives, but it could also destroy them. I want to make sure we¡¯re on the right path before we take the next step.¡±

    Her words struck a chord in me. The idea of mundanes¡ªpeople like I once was¡ªhaving access to aura sounded like a revolution. But revolutions were rarely bloodless.

    I exhaled slowly. ¡°Come in,¡± I said finally. ¡°Let¡¯s talk.¡±

    Atropos nodded, stepping inside as Selena rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. I had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

    ~073

 074 Midnight Conversations

    LXXIV

    We settled in the living room, the air thick with the strange mix of excitement and exhaustion that only came with late-night discussions.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get some coffee,¡± I said, calling for Leora in the kitchen. She appeared moments later, tying her apron and looking every bit like the housewife she aspired to be, even though the hour made it less than ideal.

    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°Coffee? This late?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Just a cup.¡±

    Selena, sprawled on the couch beside me, snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid enough to drink coffee now. Glass of milk for me.¡±

    ¡°Of course, your highness,¡± Leora grumbled sarcastically as she turned back to the kitchen.

    I turned to Atropos, seated directly across from me, her posture impossibly straight. ¡°What about you? Anything?¡±

    She hesitated for a moment, her gaze briefly flicking toward the kitchen. ¡°I¡¯m fine with anything.¡±

    I smirked, recalling a small detail from the novel¡ªAtropos had a weakness for chocolate. ¡°Leora, make that a hot chocolate for her!¡±

    Another grumble echoed from the kitchen, but I knew Leora didn¡¯t mind. If anything, she loved any excuse to make drinks or snacks. She¡¯d once told me her dream was to own a caf¨¦ someday, though that dream was far on the horizon. For now, she was content as our everyday mundane housewife, balancing the quirks of our strange little family.

    True to form, Leora emerged minutes later, carrying a tray laden with cups: coffee for me, milk for Selena, and hot chocolate for Atropos. She managed it all in one go, setting everything down with practiced ease.

    I flashed her a grin. ¡°Thanks, Leora. You¡¯re the best.¡±

    ¡°Flattery won¡¯t get you out of cleaning duty tomorrow,¡± she shot back with a smirk before settling in the armchair to my right.

    Selena was on my left, lounging with her glass of milk in hand, while Atropos sat primly across from me, her hands wrapped around the warm mug of hot chocolate.

    Atropos sipped delicately before speaking, her tone measured. ¡°Reynard, I came here because I need your help.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, leaning back into the couch. ¡°Help with what, exactly?¡±

    ¡°The technology we¡¯ve developed¡ªDIVINE¡ªit¡¯s ready. But we need someone with practical experience, someone who understands aura and its intricacies, to validate the next phase. That someone is you.¡±

    By intracices, she meant the ¡®themes¡¯ or the ¡®Gift¡¯ itself.

    I blinked. ¡°You¡¯re asking me to¡­ what? Join your project?¡±

    Atropos nodded, her gaze steady. ¡°You¡¯ve seen the results aura can achieve, the potential it holds. You¡¯ve also seen the dangers. Your insight is invaluable.¡±

    Selena scoffed, swirling her milk. ¡°Let me guess, Bob sent you? This reeks of his overreaching ambition.¡±

    Atropos didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Bob trusts me to make this decision. And I trust Reynard to give us the perspective we need.¡±

    I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

    Leora placed a hand on my arm, her touch grounding. ¡°Rey, this is your decision. Whatever you choose, we¡¯ll support you.¡±

    I leaned back in my seat, the coffee cup warming my hands as I stared at Atropos. Her expression was calm, calculated, as always, but I could sense the urgency in her words.

    ¡°I made it clear to Bob,¡± I said evenly, ¡°I have no plans of working for the Association.¡±

    Atropos tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes never leaving mine. ¡°How about working with the Association? The next phase of the plan is already underway, but we¡¯d have a stronger position if your perspective was in play.¡±

    Selena let out a low whistle from my left. ¡°That¡¯s got to be an achievement, right? One of the Big Three wants to work with you on equal footing, Reynard.¡±

    Leora, seated to my right, shot her a sharp look. ¡°Not funny.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I turned back to Atropos, narrowing my eyes. ¡°What do you mean by ¡®perspective¡¯?¡±

    Atropos set her cup down carefully, her movements precise. ¡°No one knows where the leak came from, but word of your precognition has started circulating in the hunter circles.¡±

    Selena raised an eyebrow. ¡°So what?¡±

    ¡°Precognition,¡± Atropos continued, ¡°is very rare. It¡¯s not a stretch to assume that the moment this information spreads, the biggest factions in the world will take an interest. They¡¯ll want Reynard, either by hook or crook.¡±

    Biggest factions? Probably refering to the Big Three¡­ and no, it wasn¡¯t anime.

    Leora crossed her arms, her voice tense. ¡°And here I thought we¡¯d faded into obscurity by now.¡±

    The Big Three¡ªshorthand for the Government, the Hunter¡¯s Association, and the World Order. Entities so powerful they practically defined the world¡¯s balance of power.

    I sighed, rubbing my temples. ¡°It¡¯s probably the Prophet¡¯s work to spite us. I knew the moment I told anyone about my precognition, it would eventually come out. But this soon? That¡¯s unexpected.¡± I chuckled dryly, trying to ease the tension. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m not exactly the cream of the crop when it comes to precogs. I¡¯m the discounted version you¡¯d find in a thrift shop.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Discounted or not, your insights could save lives. With your help, we can avoid as much bloodshed as possible.¡±

    Leora shook her head, her tone firm. ¡°We¡¯ve got our own problems. Don¡¯t add to them.¡±

    Selena swirled her glass of milk thoughtfully. ¡°Leora¡¯s got a point. Every time we stick our noses into something bigger, it bites us back tenfold.¡±

    I sighed, feeling the weight of their words and the implications of Atropos¡¯s offer pressing down on me. ¡°You¡¯re asking a lot, Atropos. My family¡¯s been through enough already.¡±

    Atropos¡¯s voice softened, though her resolve remained unshaken. ¡°I understand. But the world is changing, Reynard. The cryptid threat grows by the day. This technology we¡¯ve developed¡ªit could give us a fighting chance. And if the Association doesn¡¯t act, someone else will. Someone who might not care about minimizing collateral damage.¡±

    Leora¡¯s hand tightened on her cup. ¡°You¡¯re asking him to walk into the lion¡¯s den. Again.¡±

    Atropos met her gaze. ¡°I¡¯m asking him to help us make the den safer.¡±

    The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the decision looming over us.

    Finally, I leaned forward, setting my coffee down. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said quietly. ¡°But no promises.¡±

    Atropos nodded, her expression unreadable. ¡°That¡¯s all I ask.¡±

    The conversation shifted after that, drifting into lighter topics, but the weight of her request lingered in the back of my mind. This wasn¡¯t just about technology or progress¡ªit was about the future of our world. And whether I liked it or not, I was now a part of that equation.

    I¡¯d be frank. I wanted this to happen.

    The change. The upheaval. The dismantling of an ancient system that had left so many trapped in ignorance while a privileged few reaped the rewards.

    But I didn¡¯t want to take responsibility for the bloodshed it would cost.

    It was selfish. I knew that. Yet, as we sat in the living room, pretending everything was fine, I tried to keep those thoughts buried.

    We talked about Leon¡¯s birthday gifts¡ªhis first toolbox, the toy sword Selena had insisted he needed, and the art supplies Leora had picked out. Atropos sat opposite me, sipping her chocolate with a faint smile that seemed almost¡­ human. She listened intently as Leora and Selena recounted Leon¡¯s shenanigans at the party.

    ¡°At one point,¡± Leora said, gesturing animatedly, ¡°he tried to climb onto the table to blow out the candles before we were even done singing ¡®Happy Birthday.¡¯¡±

    We bought two cakes, so yeah¡­ Leon could blow the candles a second time¡­

    Selena smirked. ¡°That¡¯s because I told him the louder he blew, the faster the candles would go out.¡±

    ¡°Selena,¡± Leora groaned, ¡°he nearly knocked over the cake!¡±

    Selena shrugged. ¡°What can I say? I¡¯m the fun aunt.¡±

    Atropos raised an eyebrow, her voice calm but curious. ¡°Fun aunt? What exactly qualifies you for that title?¡±

    Selena leaned back, grinning as she crossed her arms. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. Maybe the fact that I¡¯m the only one who takes him to the park without freaking out over cryptids lurking in the bushes. Or the one who taught him how to throw his first punch¡ªproper form and all.¡±

    Leora shot her a look. ¡°He¡¯s six, Selena. He doesn¡¯t need to know how to fight yet.¡±

    ¡°Tell that to the kid who tried to steal his crayons last week.¡± Selena¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Leon handled it like a champ.¡±

    Atropos tilted her head, clearly intrigued. ¡°You¡¯re teaching a six-year-old combat techniques?¡±

    ¡°Not just any combat techniques,¡± Selena said, puffing out her chest. ¡°Practical self-defense. You never know when some cryptid¡ªor nosy neighbor¡ªmight try something.¡±

    I glanced at Atropos, half expecting her to chide Selena, but instead, she seemed¡­ amused.

    ¡°You¡¯re awfully proud of this ¡®fun aunt¡¯ persona,¡± Atropos said, her tone dry but not unkind.

    Selena leaned forward, pointing a finger at her. ¡°That¡¯s because I am the fun aunt. And you¡¯re just jealous because you¡¯ve been too busy playing mad scientist to actually spend time with Leon.¡±

    The room grew tense for a moment, the playful banter teetering on the edge of something more serious.

    Atropos set her cup down, her expression neutral. ¡°Perhaps. But I¡¯d like to think my contributions to his future are just as valuable.¡±

    Selena snorted. ¡°Oh, sure. Because nothing says ¡®I love my nephew¡¯ like destabilizing the global order.¡±

    I cleared my throat, trying to diffuse the situation. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough. Leon doesn¡¯t need a competition between his aunts.¡±

    Leora shot me a grateful look, while Selena leaned back with a smirk, clearly unbothered. Atropos, on the other hand, regarded me with that same piercing gaze she always had, as if she could see straight through my fa?ade.

    And maybe she could.

    Because the truth was, as much as I wanted to protect my family, part of me couldn¡¯t help but hope for the future Atropos envisioned¡ªa world where aura wasn¡¯t a secret, where everyone had the chance to rise above the mundane.

    I just didn¡¯t want to be the one to make it happen.

    ¡°Leon¡¯s lucky to have all of you,¡± Atropos said finally, her tone softer now. ¡°He has a family that cares deeply for him. That¡¯s more than most can say.¡±

    For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of her words sinking in.

    And then Selena ruined it.

    ¡°Still the fun aunt, though,¡± she muttered under her breath, earning an exasperated sigh from Leora and a chuckle from me.

    Some things never changed.

    ~074

 075 Morning Gossip

    LXXV

    The morning was crisp, and the air smelled of damp earth as I stood in the front yard, hose in hand, tending to the plants. The spray of water glistened in the early sunlight, and for a moment, everything felt¡­ peaceful.

    Living in Goodwell had been easy, at least on the surface. Monetary burdens weren¡¯t burdens to us at all. We had a big house with a backyard, a whole garden out front, and we could even afford to throw a birthday party for Leon, our only son.

    But the peace was always short-lived.

    The first thing I heard every morning wasn¡¯t the chirping of birds or the rustling of leaves¡ªit was the incessant gossiping of the neighborhood no-gooders. Joggers, bystanders, and the occasional dog walker all seemed to take turns stopping near our house to trade humiliating rumors.

    ¡°Is it that guy?¡±

    ¡°He keeps two women in his house?¡±

    ¡°A mistress and a wife?¡±

    ¡°Is that even legal?¡±

    ¡°Maybe because he¡¯s handsome¡ªthat¡¯s why he gets away with this.¡±

    ¡°But he surrounds himself with such beautiful girls.¡±

    ¡°I saw last night a girl in a maid outfit enter his house.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s some drug lord or pimp?¡±

    It had been nearly two years since we moved to Goodwell, and yet, we still felt unwelcome. We tried to accommodate, to blend in, but it seemed like no amount of neighborly smiles or casual greetings could quell their suspicions.

    Not everyone was a Karen, but the Karens in this town were a special breed¡ªpersistent, loud, and determined to make sure I heard them.

    For the record, the girl in the maid outfit was my sister.

    As if summoned by their incessant muttering, Leora stepped outside, dragging a trash bag behind her. She glared at me with the kind of frustration only a sibling could muster.

    ¡°Reynard,¡± she snapped, ¡°what did I tell you about these damn things? I told you to take care of it!¡±

    The moment Leora appeared, the gossipers clammed up. Of course they would.

    The last time Leora overheard them talking trash, she didn¡¯t hesitate to throw hands. That was back when we¡¯d just moved here, and the memory still lingered like a dark cloud over the neighborhood.

    Leora didn¡¯t bother glancing at them this time. Instead, she tossed the trash bag into the bin with a force that made it rattle and stomped back toward the house.

    I sighed, turning back to the garden.

    Peace in Goodwell was a fragile thing, but at least we had each other. That, and the satisfaction of knowing the Karens didn¡¯t dare step onto our property anymore.

    The gossip returned the moment Leora disappeared back inside.

    ¡°They just threw a lavish party last night, right?¡±

    ¡°Must be nice to be rich.¡±

    ¡°They came from the city, right?¡±

    ¡°So, they are rich?¡±

    ¡°More like they became poor, so they had to find some secluded town?¡±

    ¡°Or maybe they are on the run?¡±

    I sighed and shook my head. It was like these people lived to piece together half-truths into some warped fantasy about us.

    The chatter was abruptly cut short as Selena walked out of the house. She dragged a recliner chair behind her with one hand, a tanning reflector tucked under her arm, and a confident smirk on her face. Wearing a bikini that screamed unbothered, she planted the recliner squarely in the front yard and lounged under the morning sun like she was on the French Riviera.

    The effect was instantaneous. The group of nosy neighbors scattered like startled pigeons.

    Selena adjusted her sunglasses, her every movement exaggerated, and sprawled across the recliner. It was hard not to admire the artistry of her intimidation tactics. While Leora wasn¡¯t above throwing hands when provoked, Selena preferred the nuclear option. She had, on more than one occasion, leaned into her reputation as a gun-toting wildcard, scaring off busybodies with thinly veiled threats and her fake IAO credentials.

    For the uninitiated, Selena¡¯s ID claimed she was part of the Intelligence Affairs Office¡ªthis world¡¯s answer to MI6, the CIA, and maybe the FBI, rolled into one shadowy organization. Was it real? Not in the slightest. Did it work? Absolutely.

    I set down the hose and glanced over at her. ¡°You don¡¯t have work today?¡±

    She adjusted her glasses, giving me a smug look from behind the lenses. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s so good about being a hunter. You can set your own hours.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a dangerous amount of freedom for someone like you,¡± I muttered.

    She grinned. ¡°You say that like I¡¯m not responsible.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow but chose not to engage. Arguing with Selena about her work ethic was like trying to reason with the weather¡ªit was pointless, and you¡¯d end up wet or burnt.

    The sun glinted off her reflector as she angled it toward her face. ¡°So,¡± she began, her tone casual, ¡°are we gonna talk about how Atropos showed up last night looking like she¡¯d just discovered the meaning of life?¡±

    I sighed, already regretting this conversation. ¡°She wanted to recruit me.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Selena sat up slightly, her curiosity piqued. ¡°Recruit you for what? Some new Association project?¡±

    ¡°Something about preventing bloodshed,¡± I replied vaguely.

    She snorted. ¡°That¡¯s rich, coming from Bob. The guy¡¯s practically the king of calculated collateral damage.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t argue with that.

    Selena leaned back, tilting her head toward the sun. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna do it, right? You¡¯ve got too much going on here.¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± I said, though my mind wandered to Atropos¡¯s determined expression.

    Selena tilted her sunglasses down, giving me a sharp look. ¡°I was there last night. I know what I heard. But knowing you, I can¡¯t help but think there¡¯s some conspiracy brewing that we don¡¯t know about.¡±

    I kept my focus on the plants, but her tone made me pause.

    She leaned back on the recliner, angling the reflector for maximum sunlight. ¡°Leora might be your archetype of a submissive wife¡ªthough she¡¯d never admit it. But here¡¯s the thing, I¡¯m her overbearing sister who cares about her way too much. If you cause her any more trouble, I swear, you¡¯ll have problems with me.¡±

    ¡°Loud and clear,¡± I said, not even bothering to argue.

    For a moment, there was silence between us, the kind that was almost comfortable but carried the weight of an unfinished conversation. Then, Selena broke it.

    ¡°Look at this. I think it¡¯s entertaining.¡± She reached into her bag and tossed me a magazine folded open to a specific page.

    I caught it and glanced at the cover. My stomach dropped.

    It was The Ranking Magazines, a well-known outlet in the hunter world. It was essentially the love child of an intelligence agency and a gossip column, founded by a network of information brokers who thrived on stirring up drama. Back when I was active as the Author, I had a pretty contentious relationship with them. We competed over intel, and I often came out on top, which made them all the more determined to write hit pieces about me.

    I unfolded the page Selena wanted me to see. Bold letters stared back at me:

    ¡°The 10 Kings.¡±

    I cringed. The title alone was enough to make me groan.

    ¡°I already have a bad feeling about this,¡± I muttered, glancing down the list. And there it was, as expected: my name at the top.

    ¡°What the hell are they thinking?¡± I said, tossing the magazine onto the patio table. ¡°I¡¯ve been inactive for three years straight, and they¡¯re still talking about me?¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°I have no proof, but my money¡¯s on the Cult. They probably pushed for this just to keep you relevant enough to screw with you.¡±

    ¡°That tracks,¡± I muttered darkly. My mind immediately went to the Prophet. That smug bastard always seemed two steps ahead, and it was infuriating. ¡°If I ever find a way to counter that damn Prophet¡¯s precognition, I swear I¡¯ll slaughter him so thoroughly in his visions he¡¯ll beg me to kill him for real.¡±

    A sharp intake of breath caught my attention. I turned my head slowly, realizing I wasn¡¯t as alone as I thought.

    Jeff, one of our neighbors, was standing on the other side of the fence, watering his lawn. His jaw was slack, his face pale. He had definitely heard me.

    I cleared my throat, plastering on a nervous smile. ¡°Morning, Jeff!¡±

    He blinked, mumbled something unintelligible, and quickly turned back to his lawn.

    Note to self: Less murder talk when in public.

    Selena stretched out lazily on her recliner, tilting her sunglasses just enough to give me a smug look. ¡°No wonder our neighbors think you¡¯re some kind of crime lord.¡±

    ¡°Not helping,¡± I grumbled, tossing a glance at the fence where Jeff had been moments ago. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then you¡¯re my gun-toting enforcer.¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°That¡¯s actually what they think, you know?¡± She pointed to the magazine I¡¯d tossed aside earlier. ¡°Anyway, keep reading. I told you, it¡¯s interesting.¡±

    I sighed, picking up the magazine again. The glossy pages felt heavier with every flip as I skimmed the list of names. My eyes widened slightly as familiar ones began to pop up. Some were old acquaintances; others, infamous names I wished I could forget.

    I scanned the list of the so-called 10 Kings, starting from the top:

    <ol>

    <li>King of Favors: Reynard Bright AKA The Author. Debuted in the Hunter World as an information broker, later revealed to be secretly a powerhouse and married to the sensational hunter Leora of Guiding Light. Known for his ruthless disregard for competition. Earned his kingly status for the favors he hoarded.</li>

    </ol>

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Ruthless disregard for competition? Really?¡±

    Selena snorted but didn¡¯t say anything.

    <ol start="2">

    <li>King of Terror: Loki O. Loki AKA The God of Mischief. A seemingly harmless nerd with the ability to trick even the sharpest minds and control the undead. A certified bastard. Earned his kingly status for his terrorist incidents.</li>

    </ol>

    I grimaced. Loki was trouble, no matter how much he looked like he belonged in a library instead of a battlefield.

    <ol start="3">

    <li>King of Evil: Diamond Black. Known as Jacob to some. A mysterious figure with the ability to tame cryptids called ¡°devils.¡± Always seen wearing sunglasses and a hat, with black diamonds embedded in his cheeks. Earned his status for atrocities committed in the Forbidden Region.</li>

    <li>King of Greed: Geoffrey the Beggar. Despite a failing career, Geoffrey survived every ordeal like a cockroach. Infamous for ¡°stealing a city because he could.¡±</li>

    <li>King of Food: A culinary genius and the bane of hunters everywhere, Fatima was infamous for stealing food from any establishment she fancied. Most infamous for stealing a golden apple from powerful hunter sects.</li>

    <li>King of Sky: Joe Joey Joel. The Sky Captain of the only airship in existence, continuing his decades-long piracy unchallenged. Rumored to have ties to a powerful figure from the Big Three.</li>

    <li>King of Poison: Rory Christen. A genius poison-maker and pharmacist. Recently infamous for a gala massacre allegedly in collaboration with the King of Favors.</li>

    </ol>

    I froze. ¡°What the hell is this? Rory? And me? At a gala?¡±

    That was like three years ago.

    Selena¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Ooh, delicious gossip. What¡¯s the story there, Reynard?¡±

    I glared at her but continued reading, though my irritation was mounting.

    <ol start="8">

    <li>King of Duels: Shen AKA The Spear God. Son of the legendary Extreme Fighter Ranas. A prodigious duelist with an ego to match.</li>

    <li>King of Disguise: Selena Fair. The King of Favors¡¯ ¡°other bitch,¡± though no one would dare admit it. Believed to be his eyes and ears in the hunter world during his seclusion.</li>

    </ol>

    ¡°Other bitch?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Selena shrugged, unapologetic. ¡°Could be worse.¡±

    <ol start="10">

    <li>King of Nothing: Leora the Bright. Described as ¡°not so bright at all¡± and a ¡°cockquean¡± for tolerating her husband¡¯s antics.</li>

    </ol>

    I slammed the magazine shut, unable to read any further.

    Selena let out a low whistle. ¡°Touchy, are we?¡±

    I rubbed my temples. ¡°This isn¡¯t just stupid gossip. The King of Poison connection could be a problem if Rory¡¯s being manipulated or if someone¡¯s using my name to stir up trouble. And those remarks about you and Leora? That¡¯s just unnecessary.¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°Unnecessary, but not entirely inaccurate.¡±

    ¡°Selena.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± She adjusted her sunglasses. ¡°But you know what they say: if they¡¯re talking about you, it means you¡¯re still relevant.¡±

    I groaned, tossing the magazine back onto the table. Relevant wasn¡¯t exactly what I wanted to be right now.

    ~075

 076 Fickle Fate

    LXXVI

    +

    ++

    +++

    [¡°The Enigma of the King of Nothing¡±

    The King of Nothing, a title shrouded in ambiguity and infamy, is one of the most perplexing figures in the Hunter World. Known in whispers as a ghost who comes and goes without rhyme or reason, her tale is one of mystery, bloodshed, and vanishing acts that leave more questions than answers.

    A Yellow Flash and a Bloody Path

    Her story begins in obscurity. Orphaned and unremarkable, she rose through the ranks of the Hunter¡¯s Association with alarming speed, her prowess leaving many in awe and others in fear. She became infamous for her ruthlessness, earning the moniker "Guiding Light" or ¡°Bright¡± for her terrifying speed and the golden aura that heralded death. Her methods were swift and brutal, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake.

    Then, she vanished.

    The Oval Incident

    Years later, she resurfaced, this time with a vengeance. The mercenary group Oval, a powerhouse in the underworld, became her sole target. She dismantled them with surgical precision, leaving no survivors. Her motives remained unclear until whispers emerged that Oval had made the grave mistake of targeting her family. For someone who was said to have no attachments, her wrath painted a different picture¡ªa reaper of death fueled by love, or perhaps revenge.

    Her terror spree following Oval¡¯s destruction was short-lived, and she disappeared once more, leaving only a chilling legacy behind.

    Why the King of Nothing?

    Unlike her peers among the Ten Kings, whose exploits are well-documented, the King of Nothing remains a ghost. Her background is a void, her motives a puzzle. Even her connections¡ªher marriage to the notorious King of Favors, Reynard Bright¡ªfail to bring clarity. Instead, they only fuel conspiracy theories.

    Did she emerge from some hidden program or experiment?

    Was she a pawn in a larger game, now discarded?

    Or does the title ¡°King of Nothing¡± reflect the emptiness she leaves in her wake¡ªdestroyed groups, obliterated enemies, and the void of fear she instills?

    These questions remain unanswered, but one thing is certain: she is no longer the terror she once was. Nowadays, the King of Nothing has faded into the shadows, her reputation overshadowed by her husband¡¯s controversial infamy.

    Let¡¯s face it: the King of Nothing isn¡¯t on the Ten Kings list because of her current standing. She¡¯s there because of what she used to be¡ªand who she¡¯s married to. Her history of violence, combined with Reynard¡¯s knack for hoarding influence, earned her a spot by default. It¡¯s not merit. It¡¯s not relevance. It¡¯s nepotism, plain and simple.

    Perhaps she truly is nothing now¡ªjust a specter in the stories told to scare naive hunters. Or perhaps, she is merely biding her time, waiting for the moment to remind the world why she was once called the Guiding Light to the Afterlife.]

    +++

    ++

    +

    The more I read, the clearer it became: this magazine wasn¡¯t journalism; it was propaganda dressed up in a glossy cover. The piece on Leora was bad enough¡ªpractically dripping with disdain¡ªbut as I skimmed through the other entries on the so-called Ten Kings, it was obvious the editors had gone all-in on their mission to vilify.

    And then there was my entry. I read it aloud, my voice heavy with disbelief and more than a little irritation:

    ¡°Reynard Bright, the so-called King of Favors, is a name synonymous with corruption, greed, and schemes. Many believe that every major disaster in the Claimed Lands over the past decade can be traced back to his machinations. From economic collapses to destabilized city-states, his web of influence is so vast that even the Hunter¡¯s Association treads lightly around him. His so-called ¡®dissapearance¡¯ in the hunter scene is nothing more than a calculated move, allowing him to operate in the shadows while his minions continue his dirty work.¡±

    I set the magazine down and rubbed my temples. ¡°They¡¯re not even trying to hide their bias.¡±

    From her recliner, Selena looked utterly unbothered, her sunglasses perched on her nose and the tanning reflector still angled perfectly to catch the morning sun. ¡°I mean,¡± she said, her tone light but with a teasing edge, ¡°they¡¯re not entirely wrong, are they?¡±

    I shot her a glare. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be on my side.¡±

    She smirked, not even bothering to lift her head. ¡°I am on your side. I¡¯m just saying¡­ they¡¯ve got a point. You¡¯re not exactly the poster boy for moral integrity.¡±

    I sighed and leaned back in my chair, the magazine still in my hand. ¡°It¡¯s not about whether they¡¯re right or wrong. It¡¯s about the fact that they¡¯re twisting the narrative to make everyone on this list look like a walking disaster.¡±

    Selena shrugged. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what these magazines are for? Stirring the pot, selling copies, and making people feel superior about not being on the list themselves?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I admitted, flipping through more pages. The same tone of exaggerated scandal and doom carried through every entry. No one was spared. Loki was painted as a deranged lunatic. Diamon Black was framed as the devil incarnate. Even Rory Christen, who was more business-minded than bloodthirsty, was portrayed as some kind of psychopathic chemist.

    Ok, to be fair¡­ there were a smidgen of truth in them¡­Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t just about selling copies,¡± I said, more to myself than to Selena. ¡°This feels deliberate, like they¡¯re trying to stir something up.¡±

    ¡°Could be,¡± Selena said, finally sitting up and stretching lazily. ¡°But who¡¯s ¡®they¡¯? The Association? The World Order? The Prophet? You¡¯ve made so many enemies it¡¯s hard to keep track.¡±

    There was only one answer really¡­ and no, I didn¡¯t have that much of an enemy.

    I stared at the page in front of me, my own name bold and unmissable. The weight of it settled heavily on my chest. Whoever was behind this wasn¡¯t just trying to damage reputations¡ªthey were setting the stage for something bigger.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said, tossing the magazine onto the table, ¡°whoever it is, they¡¯ve got my attention. And it¡¯s definitelythe fucking Cult.¡±

    Selena grinned. ¡°Good. Because if this is the start of some grand conspiracy, I¡¯m expecting front-row seats.¡±

    ¡°Just don¡¯t get too comfortable,¡± I muttered. ¡°If they¡¯re targeting us this blatantly, it¡¯s only a matter of time before things get messy.¡±

    Selena leaned back again, her grin widening. ¡°Messy¡¯s my middle name.¡±

    The realization had hit me like a freight train a long time ago. Fate and Absoluteness¡ªconcepts I¡¯d dismissed as little more than poetic nonsense¡ªhad far more influence over our lives than I¡¯d ever cared to admit. The butterfly effect wasn¡¯t just a theory; it was a living, breathing threat, one that could twist destiny and cut me and Leora down far earlier than intended.

    That was why we disappeared. From the hunter scene, from the world of chaos and bloodshed we once thrived in. Retreated into the quiet life, if you could call it that. But even here, in the quiet town of Goodwell, shadows from the past still loomed.

    After finishing up watering the garden¡ªa chore I found oddly satisfying these days¡ªI grabbed my keys and loaded Leon into the car.

    ¡°Seatbelt, champ,¡± I said as I adjusted the rearview mirror.

    Leon pouted but complied. ¡°Do I have to go to school every day?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said with a chuckle. ¡°But think of it this way: every day brings you closer to becoming the smartest kid in the world.¡±

    That earned a reluctant smile from him. With Leon dropped off at his kindergarten, I headed back home.

    Leora was waiting for me, her hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing workout clothes that looked way too good on her. ¡°Ready?¡± she asked, tossing me a water bottle.

    We started our morning calisthenics routine, something we¡¯d picked up as a way to stay active and keep the rust from settling in. She always pushed herself harder than me, even now, as if proving she could still match the woman who once took down an entire mercenary group single-handedly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t strain yourself,¡± I said, watching her drop into a set of push-ups.

    She smirked without looking up. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. Worry about keeping up.¡±

    After we wrapped up, Selena wandered into the kitchen, munching on an apple. ¡°Morning,¡± she said, leaning against the counter. It was a bit late for morrning greetings, but whatever.

    I glanced at her, already sensing the mischief in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not freeloading today. Got a mission for you.¡±

    Her eyebrows shot up. ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡±

    ¡°Simple recon. Nothing flashy. You¡¯ll get the details on your way out.¡±

    She groaned dramatically but didn¡¯t argue. Selena loved her freedom, but she also loved being useful. With her gone, the house felt noticeably quieter¡ªa rare blessing.

    That left just me and Leora.

    We spent the next hour lounging around, savoring the peace. Leon wouldn¡¯t be home until later, and Selena wouldn¡¯t be back until tomorrow at the earliest. I took her hand, and without saying a word, we got ready for one of our impromptu dates.

    The caf¨¦ down the street wasn¡¯t anything special, but it was cozy, and the staff knew us by now. We ordered our usuals¡ªblack coffee for me, something sweeter for her¡ªand found a corner table.

    Leora stirred her drink, her gaze distant. ¡°You think it¡¯ll ever catch up to us?¡±

    I didn¡¯t need to ask what she meant. ¡°Maybe,¡± I admitted. ¡°But until then, we make the most of this.¡±

    She smiled softly. ¡°I like the sound of that.¡±

    As we sat there, sipping our drinks, I realized just how much I¡¯d come to cherish these moments. The simplicity of it all. The quiet. It wasn¡¯t the life we¡¯d planned, but it was the life we had now. And for as long as we could hold onto it, I wasn¡¯t going to let anything take it away.

    We talked about everything and nothing, the kind of random chatter that only comes naturally when you¡¯re with someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Leora laughed at my terrible impressions of our neighbors, and I teased her about her competitive streak during our morning exercises. It felt good to let loose, even if just for a while.

    Eventually, the conversation took a more serious turn, as it often did when we had time to ourselves. It wasn¡¯t forced, just a natural shift in tone as we touched on the topics that always lingered in the back of our minds.

    Leora was the one who broke it up, setting up a small barrier with her aura¡ªa technique she¡¯d forcibly learned over the years. Since her aura theme revolved around light, creating a soundproof barrier wasn¡¯t easy for her. But she¡¯d adapted, weaving Trickster Aura into the barrier technique to compensate.

    I admired her handiwork for a moment before she spoke.

    ¡°We should talk about the future,¡± she said, her voice quiet but steady.

    I nodded, glad she didn¡¯t question my claim of precognition. It wasn¡¯t something I liked to bring up often, but Leora trusted me enough to take it at face value.

    ¡°How long?¡± she asked.

    I blinked. ¡°How long what?¡±

    ¡°How long do we have to endure not seeing Leon after we fake our deaths?¡±

    I hesitated. It was a question I didn¡¯t have a concrete answer for. ¡°Until it¡¯s safe,¡± I said finally. ¡°Until we know the Prophet¡¯s influence has waned enough for us to act without putting him at risk.¡±

    Her eyes searched mine, and I could see the weight of the decision in them. ¡°Do you think¡­ we could try again? To kill the Prophet, I mean.¡±

    I sighed, leaning back in my chair. ¡°No. It¡¯s impossible.¡±

    She frowned, and I knew she wanted to ask why. I decided to explain before she pressed further.

    ¡°You remember what happened the last time I tried to interfere with fate? When I publicly put a bounty on the Prophet¡¯s head and revealed his identity?¡±

    She nodded slowly.

    ¡°It worked,¡± I admitted. ¡°It made his life harder, forced him into hiding, and probably delayed whatever plans he had. But then we almost died. You remember that, right?¡±

    Her lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°The Extreme Fighter and Extreme Maker.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. That wasn¡¯t a coincidence. It was fate snapping back at us. The feeling I had after that¡­ it¡¯s hard to describe, but it was like the universe itself was warning me. Like I¡¯d overstepped my bounds.¡±

    It was metaphysical.

    She didn¡¯t say anything, just stared at her cup of coffee as if it held the answers we were looking for.

    ¡°Bottom line,¡± I continued, ¡°interfering with fate gets us screwed. I¡¯m not ready to tempt it again anytime soon. Our best bet is faking our deaths when the time is right.¡±

    She sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation. ¡°So what do we do?¡±

    ¡°We wait,¡± I said simply. ¡°We stay under the radar, protect Leon from the shadows, and hope that fate has a plan that doesn¡¯t involve us dying indefinitely.¡±

    Leora didn¡¯t look entirely convinced, but she nodded. ¡°Alright,¡± she said softly. ¡°But if you ever change your mind¡­ if you think we have even the smallest chance¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know,¡± I promised.

    The conversation drifted back to lighter topics after that, but the weight of what we¡¯d discussed lingered. As much as I hated it, fate wasn¡¯t something I could fight head-on. Not yet, at least. All I could do was play the hand I¡¯d been dealt and hope I could outmaneuver it when the time came.

    ~076

 077 DIVINE Revelations?

    LXXVII

    After dinner, the house felt quieter than usual. Leon had finally run out of energy, courtesy of his ever-enthusiastic mother, and fell asleep in the living room, snuggled under a blanket with his stuffed bear. I carried him to bed, his little snores already filling the room as I tucked him in.

    Back in the kitchen, Leora and I worked on the dishes together. She handed me a plate to dry, her hair slightly messy from chasing Leon all evening. There was a lightness in the air, the kind of peace that only came after a long, fulfilling day.

    ¡°Where did you send Selena?¡± Leora asked casually, her voice carrying a teasing undertone.

    I caught the glint in her eyes, the playful, mischievous spark that hinted at more than just idle curiosity. Feeling naughty, eh? I smirked but didn¡¯t act on it¡ªat least, not yet. We were adults. We had self-control. Mostly.

    ¡°She¡¯s on recon,¡± I replied, placing the plate on the rack. ¡°Checking out a cult base. If it pans out, she¡¯ll hire some bounty hunters or mercenaries to raid the place.¡±

    Leora chuckled softly, shaking her head. ¡°Knowing Selena, she¡¯ll probably spread misinformation and throw them into chaos first.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be the first time,¡± I agreed, grinning.

    Just then, the front door opened with its usual creak. Speak of the devil. Selena strolled in, looking like she owned the place, her coat slung over her shoulder and her boots leaving faint traces of dirt on the floor. She had the kind of confidence that was both admirable and exasperating.

    ¡°Good timing,¡± I said, leaning against the counter. ¡°Did you eat yet?¡±

    Selena flashed a grin as she hung up her coat. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ve already feasted on the blood of our enemies and devoured their flesh.¡±

    Leora rolled her eyes, unimpressed, as she slid a plate across the counter. ¡°Not funny. Sit down. Eat.¡±

    Selena groaned but obeyed, plopping down at the table. ¡°You¡¯re gonna make me fat,¡± she muttered, eyeing the thick stew and rice on her plate.

    ¡°Good. Maybe you¡¯ll stop being so hyperactive,¡± I quipped.

    Selena shot me a look but dug in anyway, her complaints forgotten the moment she took a bite. For all her dramatics, she couldn¡¯t resist Leora¡¯s cooking.

    The three of us settled into a comfortable silence, the sounds of clinking silverware and the faint hum of the heater filling the room. For a moment, everything felt¡­ normal. As normal as life could be for us, anyway.

    Selena leaned back in her chair, lazily stirring her stew with a spoon before finally taking a bite. She chewed, swallowed, then spoke as if she hadn¡¯t just stuffed her mouth full of food.

    ¡°Oh yeah, I also picked up that thing Atropos wanted delivered.¡±

    She reached into her pocket, pulled out her smartphone, and tapped on the screen a few times. The faint glow of the device reflected in her eyes as she slid it across the table toward me and Leora.

    ¡°This,¡± Selena began, gesturing toward the screen, ¡°is the DIVINE.¡±

    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°And what exactly is the DIVINE? Frankly, I don¡¯t trust the stuff the Hunter¡¯s Association recently.¡±

    The name sounded familiar, and it didn¡¯t take me long to recall why.

    Selena smirked. ¡°It¡¯s inspired by the research paper you submitted to the Association, actually.¡±

    That got my attention. ¡°Huh.¡±

    It almost slipped my mind, since I like have three novels that needed finishing.

    Selena continued, ¡°DIVINE stands for Dynamic Interface for Verification and Identification of Natural Energies. Basically, it¡¯s a software-based artifact powered by aura that can ¡®divine¡¯ a person¡¯s thematic abilities¡ªaka their Gift.¡±

    I frowned, rubbing my chin. ¡°An artifact that exists as software¡­? That¡¯s a big deal. It¡¯s like Atropos said. They are definitely working hard.¡±

    Selena grinned. ¡°Yep. First of its kind. It¡¯s got a 95% to 97% accuracy rate, too.¡±

    Leora leaned forward, clearly intrigued. ¡°So how does it work?¡±

    Selena flicked the screen a couple more times, then slid the phone closer to us. A gauge appeared on the display¡ªa bar that wavered slightly, shifting in color between deep green and pale gold.

    ¡°You just fill the gauge with your aura until it¡¯s full,¡± Selena explained. ¡°Then the divination will occur.¡±

    Leora tilted her head, then shrugged. ¡°Alright, why not?¡±

    She pressed her index finger onto the touchscreen. A soft glow emanated from her fingertip as she imbued the device with her aura. The green, wavy bar on the screen pulsed and began to fill.

    Slowly but surely, the gauge reached completion. A small animation played¡ªsomething like a golden starburst flashing across the screen. Then, bold text appeared, revealing the result of the divination.

    Gift: Radiant StarStolen story; please report.

    Leora let out a thoughtful hum. ¡°Sounds about right.¡±

    She swiped left on the screen, revealing another section of the analysis. This one displayed her Aura State Affinity. As expected, her strongest affinity was with Seeker Aura¡ªthe aura type most aligned with agility, perception, and speed.

    Leora chuckled. ¡°Guess I have to name my moves after Radiant and Star now, huh?¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Better than something like ¡®Shiny Boom Boom¡¯ or ¡®Laser Kicks.¡¯¡±

    Selena snorted, nearly choking on her stew. ¡°I¡¯d pay good money to hear you actually call out ¡®Shiny Boom Boom¡¯ in battle.¡±

    Leora rolled her eyes but smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll stick with Radiant Star, thanks.¡±

    The discovery wasn¡¯t exactly groundbreaking¡ªLeora had always known her abilities leaned toward speed, precision, and destructive light-based techniques. But seeing it confirmed in a tangible, measurable way¡­ It was interesting.

    I leaned back, folding my arms. ¡°So, Atropos wanted this delivered¡­ meaning the Association plans to mass-produce these?¡±

    Selena shrugged. ¡°Probably. If this thing becomes widely available, even mundanes could get a better grasp on their aura affinities. The Hunter¡¯s Association definitely had gone crazy. I honestly couldn¡¯t believe something silly as this would help mundanes learn aura quicker. It took me years¡­ and the same ges for Leora.¡±

    I shrugged. It took me months to manifest a Special Ability. Of course, no need to tell them that. However, Selena, caught onto my body language.

    Selena tapped her fingers on the table, her expression skeptical. ¡°So, you really think this little device will help mundanes learn aura easier?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°The sample size is pretty big this time. The Hunter¡¯s Association is still in the testing phase, but I feel positive about it. Stuff like imagery, personality, and awareness are all important when it comes to manifesting a Special Ability.¡±

    Selena snorted. ¡°I wanted to believe it, just because of how awesome it sounded¡­ But it sure is insulting to the years of hard work I had to went through. So, you¡¯re saying knowing you¡¯re the theme of your aura does help you get stronger? Is that it?¡±

    ¡°Not directly,¡± I said, leaning back. ¡°But it gives direction. When people have a clearer understanding of what their aura is naturally inclined toward, they can refine their techniques faster. It¡¯s the same reason why Hunters name their moves¡ªit reinforces their image and makes them more effective.¡±

    Selena hummed, mulling over my words. Then, without another thought, she pressed her index finger against the screen.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t tested myself yet,¡± she muttered.

    A deep, red-tinged aura pulsed from her fingertip and seeped into the device. The gauge on the screen flickered before steadily filling up. Unlike Leora¡¯s smooth and controlled input, Selena¡¯s aura felt wild¡ªlike a barely contained explosion being forced into a narrow stream.

    The moment the gauge hit full, an animation played, followed by bold text appearing on the screen:

    Gift: Divine Transmutation

    Selena¡¯s breath hitched. Her eyes widened, and for a split second, something invisible snapped.

    Her aura flared.

    A sharp, golden-red pulse of energy radiated from her body, flickering across the room like an unstable flame. It wasn¡¯t hostile, but it was raw, unrestrained. Leora instinctively shifted, bracing herself.

    Then, just as suddenly, Selena exhaled, and the fluctuation settled.

    Leora blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. That name sounds vague. Divine Transmutation?¡±

    Selena didn¡¯t respond immediately. She kept staring at the screen, as if the words Divine Transmutation held some deep, hidden meaning.

    ¡°I get it now,¡± Finally, she chuckled. ¡°Not necessarily vague.¡±

    Leora frowned. ¡°Explain.¡±

    Selena leaned back in her chair, twirling her phone between her fingers. ¡°This machine is designed to define a person¡¯s aura in the most concise way possible using extremely accurate sensors, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I confirmed.

    She smirked. ¡°Then sometimes, what seems vague can actually be enlightening.¡±

    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s a fancy way of saying nothing.¡±

    Selena rolled her eyes. ¡°Fine. Let me put it this way. Seeing the name of my Gift¡­ it makes me feel like I get it now. Like I suddenly know the direction I need to take to improve my aura practice. Holy shit¡­ I¡¯ve been doing it wrong the entire time¡­¡±

    I studied her. Selena wasn¡¯t the type to get sentimental over things like this. Yet, her reaction was telling. Whatever Divine Transmutation meant, it had struck a chord within her.

    And that?

    That was interesting.

    ¡°My turn next.¡±

    I pressed my index finger against the screen, exhaling slowly as I channeled my aura into the device.

    The gauge barely moved.

    ¡­Oh.

    This was going to take a while.

    I clenched my jaw and focused, willing my aura to seep into the DIVINE. It wasn¡¯t like I had much to begin with¡ªmy aura reserves were pitiful. And lots of them were in Leon. My concentration was finite too, so this was quite tough for me. It was a side effect of how I¡¯d developed my abilities. Unlike Leora, who had a natural, powerful flow of energy, or Selena, who was a walking battery of destruction, my aura was more like a slow trickle from a rusty faucet.

    Leora and Selena watched for a few minutes, offering occasional remarks about my miserable aura output, before eventually giving up and heading to bed.

    Meanwhile, I stayed.

    I wasn¡¯t about to be beaten by a damn machine.

    So I sat there, stubbornly pushing my aura into the device, watching the gauge crawl upward at a mind-numbing pace. Minutes stretched into an hour. An hour into two. My back ached, my hand was cramping, and I was on the verge of cursing this whole endeavor when¡ª

    Ding!

    The gauge finally filled.

    I sagged in relief, only to immediately tense up again as an animation played on the screen.

    Then, in bold letters, my Gift was revealed:

    Butterfly Effect

    I stared at it.

    ¡­That was it?

    After two hours of suffering, that was the grand reveal?

    I leaned back, rubbing my face. I felt¡­ underwhelmed.

    But at the same time, something clicked.

    I reread the words, rolling them around in my mind. Butterfly Effect.

    No wonder I could perceive fate to an extent.

    No wonder I felt that vague, indescribable dread whenever I tried to push too hard against the narrative of this world.

    I¡¯d always assumed my ability to anticipate disaster came from my instincts as a strategist, or maybe from my experience dealing

    I¡¯d always assumed my ability to anticipate disaster came from my instincts as a strategist, or maybe from my experience dealing with people, schemes, and the chaos of the Hunter world. But now, it made more sense.

    It wasn¡¯t just intuition. It was my Gift.

    I recalled the time I put a massive bounty on the Prophet¡¯s head, revealing his real name for the world to see. That should have crippled him. It should have ensured his downfall. And yet, what followed was one of the closest brushes with death I had ever experienced.

    It was as if fate itself had intervened.

    Leora and I had nearly been killed by Ranas and Eliz-Beth. That attack wasn¡¯t random. It wasn¡¯t just the Prophet retaliating.

    It was correction.

    The world had an established order, a set of inevitable outcomes¡ªdestiny, if you will. Leon¡¯s parents¡¯ deaths were a canon event, something meant to happen. My interference had nearly gotten me erased instead.

    That explained why I could feel danger looming when I pushed too far.

    Why, even with all my knowledge, I was constantly walking a tightrope between changing things and keeping myself from getting crushed by fate.

    I stared at the screen.

    Butterfly Effect.

    It wasn¡¯t a flashy name. It wasn¡¯t something awe-inspiring like Radiant Star or Divine Transmutation. But it fit.

    And if my Gift was named after the concept of small changes leading to massive consequences, then that meant¡­

    "I¡¯m really screwed.¡±

    Fuck canon.

    ~077

 078 Unwanted News

    LXXVIII

    Beneath our house, in the private training facility we had built specifically for hunters, Leora and Selena were going at it. The underground space was reinforced with aura-infused materials, meaning they could cut loose without worrying about bringing the whole damn house down.

    I sat comfortably behind the control panel, munching on a bag of chips, watching the chaos unfold through the reinforced observation glass.

    Leora had long abandoned her katana, opting for pure aura-based combat. It made sense¡ªher speed was already monstrous, but she wanted to push further, to refine her technique into something even deadlier. Without a weapon, she had to figure out how to make her bare hands as lethal as any blade.

    Selena, on the other hand, had deliberately handicapped herself. She wasn¡¯t using any of her hidden weapons, even though she was a certified Weapon Master¡ªa title that extended beyond just melee arms. If it could be wielded, fired, or thrown, she could master it. Hell, even Leora acknowledged her skill in that regard. But right now, she was keeping things simple, relying purely on hand-to-hand combat.

    That didn¡¯t mean she was weak.

    Even without her weapons, Selena was a monster in close quarters.

    Both of them had already shredded parts of their tracksuits. The thin material barely held together as they exchanged high-speed blows. And no, I wasn¡¯t a pervert, but I was a man, and I appreciated the view. Not that I¡¯d ever tell my wife that.

    Selena ducked under a blindingly fast kick from Leora, countering with a rising elbow aimed at her chin. Leora twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the strike, then came down with a vicious axe kick. Selena blocked with her forearm, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the room.

    Selena grinned. "That all you got, cockquean?"

    Leora¡¯s eye twitched. "Keep talking, bitch. You¡¯re about to eat the floor."

    Selena smirked. "Big words from someone whose entire fighting style is ¡®go fast and hope for the best.¡¯"

    Leora shot forward in a burst of light, but Selena had already sidestepped, predicting the move. The moment Leora reappeared, Selena drove a knee toward her stomach.

    But Leora had baited her.

    Instead of dodging, Leora caught Selena¡¯s knee with both hands, spun her body mid-air, and launched her across the training room.

    Selena twisted at the last second, landing in a crouch. She dusted off her torn sleeve and sighed. "Okay, fine. I¡¯ll admit, you¡¯ve gotten better."

    Leora cracked her knuckles. "That¡¯s what happens when you train instead of spending all your time hoarding guns and making fake IDs."

    Selena rolled her eyes. "You say that like I don¡¯t put in work. Just because I don¡¯t run around like a speed-obsessed psycho doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m slacking."

    Leora smirked. "Uh-huh. Whatever you say, discount James Bond."

    Selena flipped her off before dashing forward again.

    I sat back, shoving another handful of chips into my mouth. Now this was entertainment.

    Just as I was enjoying the spectacle of my wife and Selena tearing each other apart in the training facility, my phone rang.

    Unknown number.

    I frowned. I wasn¡¯t in the habit of answering unknown calls, but my gut told me this wasn¡¯t a random scammer trying to sell me snake oil. I picked up.

    ¡°Who is this?¡±

    A familiar voice came through, cool and unbothered. ¡°It¡¯s me.¡±

    I paused, then sighed. ¡°Rory. It¡¯s been a long time.¡±

    Leora and Selena were still going at it, completely unaware of the conversation I was about to have. I leaned back in my chair, keeping my eyes on the fight but my focus on the call.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I just wanted to clarify something,¡± Rory said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one who leaked the news about the gala massacre.¡±

    I let out a short chuckle. ¡°I know. You¡¯d have to be monumentally stupid to do something like that. That leak doesn¡¯t just put a target on your back¡ªit puts one on mine and the other three people I hired that night. They¡¯d kill you for it, and frankly, I am surprised you are still alive.¡±

    I could imagine Grue doing it.

    There was a brief pause. ¡°Good. Then I don¡¯t have to explain how messy this is about to get.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    I frowned. ¡°It sounds like you¡­ didn¡¯t do it then? Who leaked it?¡±

    ¡°The Elsewhere Cult,¡± she answered without hesitation.

    I clenched my jaw. Not surprising. That damn cult had been growing like a tumor in the mundane world, gaining more followers than ever. But they were also bleeding.

    The attack I orchestrated against them¡ªwhere I took out a significant chunk of their numbers and killed the Prophet¡¯s right-hand man¡ªwas finally having its effect. And with the unofficial bounty I placed on the Prophet¡¯s head, the pressure was only mounting.

    Sure, they liked to play tough, but that would only get someone so far.

    The Cult building churches and expanding their public presence was a strategic response to their dwindling numbers. They were trying to regain control.

    I exhaled. ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    Rory¡¯s voice turned serious. ¡°I think the people you hired that night are being targeted. That includes me¡­¡±

    That made me sit up straight.

    Then she dropped the bomb.

    ¡°Carlyle is dead.¡±

    I stopped breathing for a second.

    That was¡­ news.

    I turned my notebook over, flipping it to the back as I processed Rory¡¯s words. My pen had been lazily jotting down notes about Leora and Selena¡¯s sparring, but now my focus had shifted entirely.

    I exhaled slowly. ¡°Tell me how he died.¡±

    ¡°Poison,¡± Rory said flatly.

    I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course, it was poison.

    ¡°And what makes you think someone is out to kill us?¡± I asked, though I already knew the answer.

    Rory hummed, almost amused. ¡°You sound so sure¡­ Could it be that you already know you¡¯d be on the receiving end of some good old-fashioned revenge?¡±

    I scoffed. ¡°Obviously. I was the one who orchestrated the attack.¡±

    She let out a low chuckle. ¡°Then congratulations, Bright. You¡¯ve pissed off an entire cult.¡±

    Suspiciously, this was quite a late response for the gala massacre. And this attempt felt lackluster compared to being chased by the Extreme Maker and almost getting killed by the Extreme Fighter.

    I sighed. ¡°Looks like I¡¯ll have to evacuate my family soon.¡±

    There was a short pause before Rory spoke again. ¡°You should.¡±

    I tapped my fingers against the notebook. ¡°And you? Do you think you¡¯re being framed?¡±

    She hesitated. A rare thing for Rory. Then, she answered, ¡°No.¡±

    I raised a brow. ¡°No?¡±

    She sighed, this time sounding mildly annoyed. ¡°Carlyle tried to kill me.¡±

    Ah.

    ¡°So, you defended yourself,¡± I concluded.

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    That changed things.

    Rory¡¯s voice remained calm, yet there was an unmistakable edge to it.

    ¡°Clear my name. And I will owe you a favor. You like favors, right?¡±

    I let out a dry chuckle. ¡°No need,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m the one who brought you into this mess, and back then, I was selfish¡ªtoo aware of the Cult¡¯s power. I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡±

    There was a short silence on the line before Rory spoke again. ¡°I¡¯ll send you an address. Meet me there.¡±

    A moment later, my phone vibrated with a new message. I glanced at the screen and frowned.

    ¡°That¡¯s two city-states over.¡±

    I leaned in on the control panel¡¯s mic and pressed the open channel. My voice echoed through the underground training facility.

    ¡°Leora. Selena. Emergency. Meet me in the living room at five.¡±

    The sparring match came to an abrupt halt.

    Five minutes later, everyone was gathered in the living room.

    Leora had somehow managed to take a bath and change into casual clothes¡ªjeans, a fitted shirt, and her hair still damp from the shower. Meanwhile, Selena had taken the lazier route, using aura to cleanse herself and switch into something more comfortable: a hoodie and sweatpants.

    I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. ¡°Rory called.¡±

    Leora tilted her head. ¡°An old acquaintance?¡±

    ¡°Very good at poison. Owns a pharma. Helped me slaughter a lot of cultists, like three years ago.¡±

    The Elsewhere Cult had high-quality priests¡ªeach one an aura user, difficult to create, and even harder to replace. Taking them out had been a major blow to the Cult back then.

    Selena crossed her arms. ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°There was this one-time crew I created to tackle that particular gala problem. One of them just kicked the bucket. Carlyle.¡±

    Selena scoffed. ¡°I know that guy. Posh, blonde, liked treasures? He¡¯s dead? He was an idiot then.¡±

    Leora¡¯s expression darkened slightly. ¡°So we evacuate?¡±

    Selena shook her head. ¡°I suggest against it. Moving creates a lot of trace. We¡¯re the safest here.¡±

    I exhaled. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not the Cult¡¯s work this time.¡±

    That got their attention.

    I leaned back against the couch. ¡°DIVINE is making waves. The power balance is being broken. Someone is doing something to restore it. And I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m the target.¡±

    Selena frowned. ¡°Wait¡­ are you saying¡ª¡±

    ¡°Probably knowledge of my affiliation with Bob leaked out.¡±

    Leora¡¯s fingers tapped idly against the couch. ¡°You¡­ aren¡¯t thinking it¡¯s the World Order, are you?¡±

    The World Order¡ªWO¡ªwas the most secretive organization among the Big Three. Dangerous, unpredictable, and highly capable of making problems disappear before anyone even realized they existed.

    I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility.¡±

    Silence settled between us for a moment before I spoke again. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of bringing Leora with me. And for you, Selena, to evacuate Leon.¡±

    Selena groaned. ¡°Oh, shit¡­ you want me to babysit?¡±

    I smirked. ¡°I¡¯m going to unseal his aura and his memories of using them. He¡¯ll need a teacher¡­ and a very good escape artist.¡±

    Selena¡¯s face twisted into something unreadable.

    ¡°The second his aura bursts, trackers hired by the Cult will sniff him out. Only you can protect him. And you¡¯d be better off moving in smaller groups.¡±

    Leora leaned forward. ¡°My powers are rather flashy too.¡±

    I gave her a look. ¡°And I¡¯m basically a celebrity at this point¡ªstill relevant to the world thanks to the damn Ranking Magazine.¡±

    Selena threw her hands up. ¡°Fine. I give up.¡±

    Preparations were swift but thorough.

    Selena packed light, just a single duffel bag slung over her shoulder. But knowing her, she had enough weapons and supplies shrunken down inside her utility belt to survive a war. She pulled on a dark windbreaker over her hoodie, making sure she had easy access to her holsters.

    Leora was less subtle. She tied her hair into a high ponytail, dressed in her usual practical attire¡ªblack cargo pants and a form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. She checked her aura reserves one last time, eyes flashing with determination.

    I had the easiest job. Grab my keys, double-check my pistol, and make sure my notes were encrypted before shutting my laptop.

    It was time to move.

    I turned to the group. ¡°Leora and I will take the SUV.¡±

    Leora swung the passenger door open, slipping inside with a nod. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Selena leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed. ¡°Take care, the two of you.¡± She shifted her weight. ¡°For me, I¡¯m gonna pick up Leon from kinder and probably head to the mountains first. And then from there, who knows?¡±

    Leora¡¯s expression softened slightly. ¡°Keep Leon safe.¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°Nah, it¡¯ll be him keeping me safe.¡± She waved us off before adding, ¡°Careful with your honeymoon though¡­ and remember, always use protection.¡±

    Leora rolled her eyes. ¡°Har har.¡±

    I sighed, shaking my head as I started the engine. ¡°Just don¡¯t burn the house down while we¡¯re gone.¡±

    Selena just grinned. ¡°No promises.¡±

    ~078

 079 A Poisoned Welcome

    LXXIX

    The hum of the SUV¡¯s engine filled the car as I drove down the open road, my eyes fixed on the horizon. The night was still young, but the weight of the situation pressed on my shoulders. Leora sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone with a bored expression before tapping on the screen and starting a video call.

    Selena picked up almost instantly. ¡°Yo.¡±

    Leora adjusted her grip on the phone. ¡°You picked him up? What¡¯s your progress?¡±

    Selena¡¯s face appeared on the screen, looking far too relaxed. ¡°Already on Joe¡¯s airship.¡±

    Leora raised a brow. ¡°That¡¯s fast¡­ ah¡­ Joe still owes Reynard favors, right?¡±

    I kept my eyes on the road. ¡°Yes, he does.¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°Wanna see Leon?¡±

    The camera shifted, and our son¡¯s excited face popped up. ¡°Where¡¯s dad?¡±

    Leora sighed and turned the phone toward me. I glanced at the screen while keeping my hands on the wheel. ¡°Hey, buddy, how are you doing?¡±

    Leon beamed. ¡°I have fire powers.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°I know.¡±

    Leon continued, ¡°Auntie Selena said you sealed them and that I could use them since I was a baby?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Yep.¡±

    Leon tilted his head. ¡°Where are you going, dad? With mom? What¡¯s up?¡±

    Leora cut in before I could answer. ¡°Business trip.¡±

    Leon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ¡°But dad write novels at home. He is a shut-in, remember?¡±

    I nearly choked on air. This kid¡­ his vocabulary was way too advanced for a six-year-old.

    Selena smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t bother them, Leon. It¡¯s a honeymoon, okay?¡±

    Leon frowned. ¡°What¡¯s a honeymoon?¡±

    Leora¡¯s expression twisted into something between panic and horror. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her, Leon.¡±

    Leon ignored her. ¡°Honeymoon¡­ that¡¯s when you make babies, right? Am I going to have a younger sibling?¡±

    Leora¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°H-huh?? Uh¡­ Sure¡­ No, wait¡ªSelena, what have you been telling my son!?¡±

    Leon looked confused. ¡°Is there a problem? Did Aunt Selena do something wrong? Aren¡¯t babies made just by touching lips while hugging?¡±

    I nearly swerved off the road. ¡°What the hell?! What have you been teaching him in the short duration you just picked him up, Selena!?¡±

    Selena held up her hands defensively. ¡°This isn¡¯t my fault! Leon, where did you learn this stuff?¡±

    Leon shrugged. ¡°The TV. The cartoons.¡±

    Leora buried her face in her hands. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°So he didn¡¯t see anything¡­ like how exactly babies are made, right? Just sounding out what everyone¡¯s thinking.¡±

    Leora peeked through her fingers. ¡°Leon, when they are making babies¡­ were they naked?¡±

    Leon made a disgusted face. ¡°Yuck, Mom¡­ Of course they aren¡¯t! That¡¯s so embarrassing!¡±

    A collective woo~ of relief filled the car.

    Frankly, I had no idea what age was appropriate for kids to learn about sex education. But for now, I was just glad we didn¡¯t have to deal with it today.

    I drove in silence, letting Leora, Selena, and Leon fill the air with their conversation. It wasn¡¯t that I wasn¡¯t interested¡ªit was just that I had my hands full with the road and my own thoughts. My grip on the steering wheel was firm, and the quiet hum of the SUV¡¯s engine gave me some much-needed space to reflect.

    Ever since I sealed Leon¡¯s aura and memories, my own natural aura pool and control had improved. It made sense¡ªtampering with someone else¡¯s aura, especially a growing child¡¯s, forced me to develop a level of precision I never had before. Still, I felt rusty. Like an old blade that hadn¡¯t been drawn in a while.

    Meanwhile, Leora and Selena were still at it.

    ¡°So, Leon,¡± Leora asked, keeping the camera steady on her phone. ¡°Did you eat your veggies today?¡±

    Leon puffed up his cheeks. ¡°Auntie Selena said I don¡¯t have to eat them if I don¡¯t like them.¡±

    Leora shot Selena a glare through the screen. ¡°Really now?¡±

    Selena shrugged. ¡°What? I¡¯m just saying, a kid should eat what he enjoys.¡±

    ¡°He needs nutrients, Selena.¡±

    Leon tilted his head. ¡°What¡¯s a nutrient?¡±

    Selena smirked. ¡°Something that makes you a responsible adult.¡±

    Leon gasped. ¡°Like dad?¡±

    Leora and Selena both turned to me. I pretended not to hear, keeping my eyes straight on the road.

    ¡°...Sure, like dad,¡± Leora answered hesitantly.

    Leon grinned. ¡°Then I don¡¯t need nutrients.¡±

    Selena burst out laughing, while Leora groaned and rubbed her forehead.

    ¡°Leon,¡± she tried again. ¡°If you don¡¯t eat healthy, you won¡¯t grow strong.¡±

    Leon pouted. ¡°But I have fire powers.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Selena gave him a thumbs up. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡±

    Leora groaned. ¡°Selena, stop encouraging him!¡±

    I smirked but said nothing. This was entertaining in its own way.

    Leon then switched topics. ¡°Mom, when will you be back?¡±

    Leora¡¯s face softened. ¡°Soon, honey. Just a little business trip.¡±

    Leon narrowed his eyes. ¡°But you don¡¯t have a job.¡±

    Selena cackled, while Leora¡¯s expression twisted into frustration.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ I¡¯m a professional housewife, okay?¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s the salary like?¡± Selena quipped.

    Leora exhaled loudly. ¡°Shut. Up.¡±

    Leon looked thoughtful. ¡°Mom, I¡¯ll protect Auntie Selena while you¡¯re gone.¡±

    Selena ruffled his hair. ¡°Oh? You think I need protection?¡±

    Leon nodded seriously. ¡°Yep! Because I have fire powers!¡±

    Leora chuckled softly. ¡°That¡¯s my boy.¡±

    Selena rolled her eyes. ¡°Well, you two should get going. I¡¯ve got an airship captain to trouble, and I¡¯m sure Leon here wants to watch more of his questionable cartoons.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Leon pouted. ¡°They teach me stuff!¡±

    I finally chimed in. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m worried about.¡±

    Leora sighed. ¡°Alright, Leon, behave for Auntie Selena, okay?¡±

    Leon gave a thumbs up. ¡°Okay! Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!¡±

    I smiled. ¡°Bye, buddy. Stay safe.¡±

    Leora waved. ¡°Love you.¡±

    Selena added, ¡°Try not to make babies on your ¡®business trip.¡¯¡±

    Leora groaned. ¡°Har har.¡±

    With that, the call ended.

    Right on time, too¡ªbecause we had just arrived at our destination. Temon City-State loomed before us, its skyline illuminated by neon lights and a faint haze of pollution.

    Time to get to work.

    Temon City-State was just like any other urban sprawl¡ªtowering skyscrapers, dense residential districts, and constant vehicle traffic clogging the streets during the day. But at night, things slowed down. The streets weren¡¯t exactly empty, but the usual congestion had eased into a steady, manageable flow. Neon lights flickered along the main roads, illuminating the sidewalks where night owls and late-shift workers moved about.

    Our SUV blended into the scenery as we drove through the city. The hum of the engine was the only sound between us for a while, until Leora broke the silence.

    ¡°So, Rory¡­ what is she like?¡±

    I kept my eyes on the road. ¡°Not a fighter, but she knows how to kill. Her poison is potent. If she turns out to be an enemy, don¡¯t rattle her. Kill her in a way you don¡¯t have to go near her.¡±

    Leora¡¯s fingers tapped against the handle of her sheathed katana, a habit of hers when she was thinking. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±

    It didn¡¯t take long before we reached our destination. The address Rory had sent led us to an apartment complex¡ªnothing particularly secure, just a run-of-the-mill safehouse. The building wasn¡¯t in a high-end part of town, but it wasn¡¯t a complete slum either. If anything, it was the kind of place you¡¯d use when you didn¡¯t want to stand out.

    Leora and I stepped out of the vehicle. There were no guards. No signs of surveillance. Just a quiet apartment building with dimly lit hallways.

    Leora adjusted her katana at her waist, standing close behind me as we approached the door.

    ¡°Even after all the hand-to-hand combat training,¡± she muttered, ¡°I still feel most comfortable with a weapon.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°No need to discourage yourself. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    We reached Room 021. I knocked.

    Silence.

    I knocked again, harder this time. Still no answer.

    Leora and I exchanged glances. Neither of us had any lockpicking skills, which meant there was only one solution.

    We settled it the way all highly trained individuals would¡ªrock, paper, scissors.

    Leora lost.

    She clicked her tongue in annoyance, then raised her foot and channeled Fighter Aura into it. With a controlled burst of force, she slammed the door handle, snapping it clean off. The door creaked open, revealing the darkened interior.

    I stepped inside first, hand instinctively reaching for the weapon at my hip. Leora covered my rear, moving with the practiced ease of a professional.

    And then we saw it.

    Rory Christen lay sprawled across the floor, her petite frame drenched in the soft glow of the apartment¡¯s ceiling light. She had brown hair¡ªshort and neatly styled, but now slightly disheveled as if she had collapsed without warning. She wore a simple, sleeveless one-piece dress, an unassuming choice that hinted at a casual meeting rather than a business one. But none of that mattered now.

    Blood pooled beneath her, dark and still, soaking into the cheap carpeting. Her limbs were awkwardly positioned, her fingers slightly curled as though frozen mid-motion. Her expression was eerily peaceful, lips slightly parted. The scent of iron and something vaguely chemical lingered in the air.

    I shut the door behind us, securing it before speaking. "What do you think?"

    Leora exhaled through her nose. "I think she¡¯s dead."

    I shot her a flat look. "Come on."

    Leora crouched beside the body, brushing her hair behind her ear as she studied the scene. She had a background in forensics¡ªnot formal, but enough to be dangerous. That made her insights valuable. I watched in silence as she got to work.

    She started by checking Rory¡¯s pulse, though we both knew it was pointless. Her skin was already losing warmth. Leora then examined the blood pooling beneath her, touching the edge of the stain before rubbing her fingers together.

    "Not fresh," she murmured. "She¡¯s been dead for a while. The blood¡¯s settled too much. If I had to guess¡­ at least two hours."

    I crouched beside her, watching closely. "What about the cause?"

    Leora carefully tilted Rory¡¯s chin up, checking her lips and the inside of her mouth. "No signs of external trauma," she noted. "No bruises, no defensive wounds. Nothing suggests a struggle."

    That narrowed things down. "Poison?"

    She nodded. "Most likely. If she was poisoned, it wasn¡¯t immediate. Something slow-acting, maybe? Her lips have a faint discoloration¡ªnot cyanide, but something similar."

    I stared at Rory¡¯s lifeless form, a frown settling on my face. Poison wasn¡¯t unexpected¡ªshe had been a master of it herself. But for her to go down like this? That was something else entirely.

    Leora¡¯s gaze flicked to me. "This wasn¡¯t a heat-of-the-moment thing. Whoever did this planned it."

    I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. And that means they might still be around."

    Leora rose to her feet, scanning the room again. "To set up an ambush?"

    I exhaled. "Or maybe a trap... get down."

    She didn¡¯t hesitate. We both crouched low as I stretched out my senses. Outside, the faint web of invisible aura threads I had scattered across the entrance shivered. Someone¡ªor more accurately, a lot of someones¡ªhad just triggered them. I could feel their innate aura signatures reacting to my threads, but they weren¡¯t alarmed. That meant they expected to walk into something.

    Shit.

    The cops had arrived. No, this wasn¡¯t just some small-time police force¡ªthis was a full-scale tactical operation.

    I could hear them, feel them moving outside. I¡¯d need to be closer to use Soul Marionette, but with numbers like these, it¡¯d be a nuisance at best. My ability worked well on individuals, maybe small groups¡ªbut against this many? No way.

    "How many?" I whispered.

    Leora closed her eyes for half a second, then activated her Seeker Aura, taking a quick peek through the window before pulling back immediately. "It¡¯s a whole fucking army out there." She cursed. "Shit, let¡¯s make a run for it."

    I was about to agree when I caught a glimpse of something through the broken door¡ªa van, black and armored, parked across the street. Then another. And another.

    Three of them.

    And they weren¡¯t just vans. The side panels slid open, revealing mounted miniguns.

    Oh, hell no.

    "Move!" I shouted.

    Before the first bullet even fired, I felt Leora grab me by the waist and hoist me over her shoulder like I was nothing but a sack of potatoes. She kicked off the ground, aura flaring, and suddenly, we were gone.

    A split second later, bullets tore through the walls behind us.

    The apartment exploded in a shower of dust and splinters as the mounted miniguns opened fire, chewing through concrete like it was paper. Glass shattered. Car alarms blared. The cityscape erupted into chaos as civilians screamed, ducking for cover.

    Leora blitzed through the apartment hallways, down the stairs, and toward the exit. She was fast¡ªstupidly fast¡ªbut I knew she was still holding back, trying to keep her aura usage minimal. The moment she went full throttle, every aura-sensitive anything in the city would know our location.

    Not that it mattered.

    We didn¡¯t last long.

    Just as we burst through the front doors of the apartment complex, an invisible force slammed down on us.

    It was like hitting an invisible wall.

    Leora stumbled, nearly dropping me as her entire body locked up. My vision blurred for a second as my own aura flickered¡ªno, suppressed¡ªand an overwhelming sense of heaviness weighed down on my limbs.

    "Fuck¡ªwhat the hell is that?" Leora hissed, trying to move, struggling against the force pressing down on us.

    I gritted my teeth, already knowing the answer. My worst-case scenario. My educated guess being confirmed right in front of my eyes.

    I swallowed. "It¡¯s the fucking World Order."

    ~079

 080 Running Blind

    080 Running Blind

    Anti-Aura Technology. AAT. Something unique to the World Order.

    Fun fact¡ªthose bastards also had a clairvoyant. Correction: clairvoyants. They weren¡¯t as strong as the Prophet, but they didn¡¯t need to be. It was enough to be a pain in the ass.

    I didn¡¯t mind them all that much, though. Clairvoyants were often too busy dealing with grand-scale events, prophecies, and existential crises to give a damn about some no-name guy like me. Or at least, they should have been.

    So why did the World Order want me dead?

    The only logical explanation? Their Think Tank. Those guys were the real pain in the ass. Hyper-intelligent strategists with access to absurd amounts of data, analyzing threats before they even became threats. If they had decided I was a problem, it meant they saw something in the future that required my immediate removal.

    Of course, it would be impossible it was directly related to me. I¡¯m a blindspot to clairvoyants. If anything, they must have deduced I must have done something.

    Made me wonder¡ªwhat the hell did I do this time?

    I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it.

    We made a break for it the moment Leora regained enough mobility to run.

    The moment we turned into a narrow alleyway, I muttered, "I don''t know how much time we have left, but they''re going to find us."

    We didn¡¯t make it far, but at least we¡¯d put some distance between us and the kill squad. Leora was fast¡ªeven without aura. But she wasn¡¯t superhumanly fast like she usually was. Whatever they were using had completely locked down our abilities.

    Not good.

    She glanced at me. "Any ideas?"

    I exhaled. "They''re using a specialized kind of technology that suppresses aura patterns. There should be beacons scattered across the city. We need to destroy at least one of them to regain our aura."

    Leora clenched her fists. "This is cheating. Taking aura away like that?"

    I let out a dry chuckle. "If it offers any comfort, they won¡¯t be able to use aura either."

    Leora didn¡¯t hesitate. She elbowed a car window, shattering it instantly, then reached inside and yanked the door open. Without missing a beat, she slid in, reached under the dashboard, and started yanking at wires.

    Sparks flew. The engine roared to life.

    She looked up at me through the open door. "Get in."

    I climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind me.

    "I have a plan."

    Leora smirked. "That so? Please, do impress me."

    I took a breath and checked my configuration. The AAT meant I was only able to equip two Attributes at a time. Anything more, and the suppression field would shut me down completely.

    I went with Connection¡ªit helped with control and allowed me to create my aura threads, even in this weakened state. And second? Weakness.

    A stolen Attribute. One I took from the Elsewhere Hero.

    After my little revelation back with the DIVINE, I was starting to piece things together. My Gift¡ªButterfly Effect¡ªwas based on cause and effect. That meant when I "stole" an Attribute, I wasn¡¯t just borrowing some passive ability. I was stealing the very theme of someone¡¯s aura. Their cause.

    And by replicating that cause, I could produce its effect.

    Which meant Weakness wasn¡¯t just some ability to identify flaws and weaken others¡ªit carried the very property of breaking probability. And if probability was being artificially tampered with to suppress aura¡­ then theoretically, this should work.

    I focused.

    Threads of aura flickered at my fingertips¡ªthin, weak, but present.

    "No need to overthink it." I clenched my fists, feeling the tiny sparks of power flicker in my palms. "Plan is simple. We drive away and beat them up while doing it."

    Leora grinned and slammed her foot on the gas.

    "I like that thinking."

    The city blurred past us, neon signs and dim streetlights casting fleeting shadows over the hood of the stolen car. The night wasn¡¯t much of a cover¡ªTemon was a city-state, after all, and a metropolis never truly slept. Even at this hour, there were enough people on the streets to make things complicated.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Leora gripped the wheel with practiced ease, her eyes sharp as she weaved through lanes with terrifying precision. She was good at this. Too good. It was easy to forget that despite her skill with a sword, she had been a Hunting Dog before¡ªshe knew how to handle a car just as well as she handled a fight.

    Then came the sirens.

    Red and blue lights flashed behind us. A helicopter¡¯s searchlight locked onto the car, painting us in blinding white.

    "We¡¯d be screwed if they used Maker Artifacts," Leora muttered, sparing a glance at the rearview mirror.

    "They won¡¯t," I assured her. "Maker Artifacts function on aura. The AAT suppresses all aura activity, meaning they¡¯d be useless."

    I felt the car shift violently. Leora had sharply turned a corner, dodging a spike strip laid out ahead. The side mirror exploded in a spray of glass as a burst of bullets shredded through the air beside us.

    Another impact¡ªsomething slammed into my side of the car.

    I caught a glimpse of the police vehicle ramming into us, trying to force us off the road. More bullets tore through the shattered window, barely missing me. I ducked low, pressing against the seat.

    The firing paused.

    That was my chance.

    I twisted my body, reached out, and tapped the hood of the cop car with my fingertips.

    My aura threads latched onto the metal like invisible strings of silk, embedding themselves before I yanked my hand back and retreated.

    Transform.

    In an instant, the threads solidified into Soul Chains¡ªbinding the vehicle¡¯s movement, locking its wheels in an unnatural grip.

    The result was immediate.

    The cop car jerked, its front tires screeching as they locked up. The driver must¡¯ve panicked because instead of regaining control, the vehicle skidded hard, spun sideways, and slammed into another pursuing car behind it.

    Two down. More to go.

    The two police cars crashed in a mess of metal and sparks, flipping onto their sides as Leora took another sharp turn. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air as she pushed the vehicle even faster.

    Leora glanced at me. "Nice trick. Think you can do that again?"

    "I can try, but I need to get close enough to leave my aura threads on them. That¡¯s the tricky part."

    Another hail of bullets rained down from the helicopter above. Leora cursed under her breath, twisting the wheel just in time to avoid a direct hit.

    "That chopper is a problem," she said. "We can¡¯t outrun it."

    I looked up through the shattered window, watching the spotlight track us relentlessly. The World Order¡¯s forces were coordinated, fast, and efficient. AAT wasn¡¯t their only advantage¡ªthey had manpower, strategy, and, worst of all, clairvoyants.

    "Turn left," I ordered.

    Leora didn¡¯t hesitate. She swerved into a narrow alley, scraping the side of the car against the concrete walls. Sparks flew, but we made it through. The police vehicles following us weren¡¯t so lucky¡ªone of them clipped the corner too hard and spun out.

    We burst out onto another main road, but the helicopter was still tracking us.

    "This thing is a damn pest," Leora growled.

    "I have an idea," I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a handful of coins.

    She raised an eyebrow. "Are we bribing the helicopter pilot?"

    "Just drive."

    I focused on my aura¡ªwhat little I could use under AAT suppression¡ªand activated Weakness. The coins in my hand glowed faintly, infused with the power to break probability. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I tossed them out of the window.

    As the helicopter passed overhead, the coins collided with its rotor blades.

    A loud metallic crack echoed through the night.

    The effect was instant¡ªone of the blades snapped, sending the helicopter into an uncontrollable spin. The searchlight wobbled erratically before the entire aircraft began its descent, spiraling toward a rooftop in a shower of sparks.

    Leora whistled. "Damn. You planned that?"

    "Not really. Just took a chance."

    She grinned. "Remind me to never play poker with you."

    With the helicopter out of commission, our odds of escape skyrocketed. The remaining pursuers were still behind us, but they were losing their biggest advantage¡ªeyes in the sky.

    Leora pressed the pedal to the floor. "Now, let¡¯s find one of those beacons and smash it."

    Leora swerved to avoid the flaming wreckage, the tires screeching against the pavement. The overturned van tumbled across the road, creating an instant barricade that forced the other police vehicles to brake hard or crash into the pile-up.

    "They can still keep up with us," I muttered, glancing at the remaining pursuers in the rearview mirror.

    Leora smirked. "They sure like us."

    Ahead, the road split into two, and Leora took the right without hesitation. But as soon as we turned the corner, another van with a mounted minigun rolled into view, its barrel already spinning.

    "Shit!"

    The roar of gunfire exploded, bullets tearing through the air. I had only seconds to act.

    I swapped Connection for Homing. My aura twisted in response, and a net of aura threads burst from my palms, shimmering faintly as I imbued them with the Homing attribute. The moment the bullets reached the threads, their trajectories shifted, bending unnaturally as they followed the tangled web of aura.

    The gunner didn¡¯t notice what was happening at first. The bullets curved away from us, dispersing wildly, some even ricocheting into nearby buildings and back toward their own van.

    I gritted my teeth, fighting off the growing migraine that came with incorporating Homing into my threads. The strain of using aura under AAT suppression was unbearable, but I couldn¡¯t stop now.

    Another van came out of nowhere from the left alley, its gun already aimed at us.

    "Again!?" Leora growled.

    I didn¡¯t hesitate. I leaned over, stretching past Leora¡¯s side, and let another burst of aura threads intercept the incoming fire.

    The bullets bent, scattering away from the SUV.

    Leora didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. She floored the gas, pushing through the chaos.

    I wasn¡¯t done yet. I flicked my wrist, sending a thin aura thread into the air, twisting it into a Soul Chain mid-flight.

    The glowing chain whipped through the van¡¯s open window and wrapped around the gunner¡¯s arm.

    The next thing that happened was instantaneous¡ª

    The gunner twitched, losing control of the minigun. The barrel jerked sideways, unleashing a spray of bullets into their own vehicle.

    A second later, the van skidded sideways, its tires losing grip, and then¡ª

    BOOM!

    It toppled over, crashing onto its side with a metallic groan. The explosion of sparks lit up the night as another police car behind it rammed straight into the wreckage.

    Leora didn¡¯t even blink as she kept driving, dodging debris effortlessly.

    I exhaled, leaning back into my seat, my head pounding from the exertion.

    "Remind me to never be in a car chase with you," I muttered.

    Leora grinned. "Come on, you¡¯re having fun."

    I didn¡¯t answer. My headache was getting worse. Using aura under AAT suppression was like pushing against a steel wall¡ªevery time I forced my power through, it pushed back ten times harder.

    We weren¡¯t out of the woods yet.

    I could still feel the beacons pulsing somewhere in the city, suppressing our aura.

    And as long as they were active, we were running on borrowed time

 081 No Other Choice

    081 No Other Choice

    Leora slammed our vehicle into the approaching cop car, the impact sending a deafening crunch through the air as metal twisted against metal. Both vehicles skidded across the road, the police car¡¯s hood crumpling inward from the sheer force of the crash.

    At that moment, we jumped.

    I hit the ground hard, rolling over rough pavement. My arms burned from the friction, but nothing aura-powered healing couldn¡¯t fix¡ªassuming we disabled the AAT first.

    Gunfire erupted from behind.

    I ran for cover, ducking behind a broken streetlamp as a squad of officers opened fire. Their bullets kicked up dust and debris as they rained hell in our direction.

    Leora, meanwhile, vaulted onto a wall and disappeared into the shadows, heading toward the abandoned apartment building where the AAT beacon was likely planted. I trusted her to handle it. I had my own job to do.

    I reached out with my aura threads, calculating the angles to return fire using Homing.

    The first few attempts were off, the bullets barely changing trajectory before slamming into the pavement. But with each adjustment, I got closer.

    Then¡ª

    A bullet spun midair and curved back toward its shooter.

    One of the officers shouted in alarm, ducking just in time to avoid his own bullet. That was rather powerful acuity. The suppression fire faltered for a second.

    I pressed the advantage.

    AAT technology was impressive, but it had a fatal flaw¡ªit couldn¡¯t keep up with the rapid evolution of Gifts and aura techniques. With DIVINE making waves and Bob pushing his vision of an era dominated by Special Abilities, AAT would eventually become obsolete. It was only a matter of time.

    I flicked my fingers, sending more thin strings of aura into the air. Some latched onto the debris, others onto the squad themselves.

    Then, I waited.

    Seconds passed.

    Then¡ª

    A pulse.

    A familiar tingling sensation crawled up my spine.

    My aura was coming back.

    Leora did it.

    I immediately equipped Puppetry on top of Connection and Homing.

    My fingers began to click and clack, moving in precise rhythms. The moment a bullet reached me, my aura threads snagged it, redirected its trajectory, and sent it back with Homing.

    This time, my shots didn¡¯t miss.

    Screams erupted as the officers scrambled for cover, their own bullets turning against them.

    Then¡ª

    A flash of light from above.

    Leora reappeared on the rooftop, her katana glowing.

    She sliced through the air, severing a drone that had been silently hovering above. Sparks rained as its mangled frame crashed to the ground.

    Then, she summoned orbs of light¡ªeach one brighter than a flare.

    She hurled them downward.

    The street exploded in flashes of gold and white, forcing the armed forces to scatter.

    I didn¡¯t waste the opening.

    I ran.

    Jumped onto a wall.

    Shot out a thread¡ª

    And ascended.

    I reached Leora in record time, barely landing before she grabbed me by the waist.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± she said.

    Then¡ª

    We vanished in a burst of super speed.

    In the end, we abandoned the SUV.

    It had a lot of memories, but¡ªwell, that was life for you. You couldn¡¯t have everything.

    When my vision stabilized, I realized we were no longer in Temon. The dim glow of overhead lights, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on steel, the occasional sway of movement¡ª

    We were on a train.

    I blinked, still disoriented from the sudden shift. How?

    I turned to Leora, who was heaving for breath, her skin slick with sweat. Her usual composed aura was frayed, her hands gripping her knees as she leaned forward in exhaustion.

    ¡°Now,¡± I said, checking my wristwatch. ¡°How the hell did you manage that?¡±

    The dial showed it had been five minutes.

    Five whole minutes.

    She had carried me and used super speed nonstop for five minutes straight.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    That had to be some kind of record.

    Leora let out a weak chuckle, lifting her gaze to meet mine. ¡°It¡­ really burns a lot of energy.¡±

    She wobbled slightly, placing a hand on my shoulder for support. I instinctively reached out, steadying her as she nearly collapsed into the seat beside me.

    She let out a long sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. ¡°This really sucked,¡± she muttered. Then, with a half-smirk, she added, ¡°But I guess¡­ welcome to Meron.¡±

    I froze.

    ¡°¡­What?¡±

    I snapped my head around, finally taking in our surroundings. The passengers. The station signs passing by outside. The slightly different architecture.

    This place finally registered in my head.

    The Meron City-State.

    Leora hadn¡¯t just run to another district or found an escape route.

    She had outright ran to the nearest city-state in a single bound.

    We got off the train at one of Meron¡¯s lesser-known stations, keeping our heads low and our auras suppressed. The World Order might not have the manpower to track us down immediately, but I wasn¡¯t about to take any chances.

    The city-state was just as busy as Temon¡ªtowering skyscrapers, blinking billboards, and an endless flow of people walking about like they had all the time in the world. It was a strange contrast to our situation. We were on the run, but to everyone else, it was just another night.

    Leora and I didn¡¯t speak much as we found a hotel, a smaller one in the backstreets where the staff didn¡¯t ask too many questions. I paid in cash¡ªworks, obviously¡ªand we took a room on the fifth floor.

    Once inside, Leora collapsed onto the bed, face-first.

    She groaned into the sheets. ¡°I think I broke a lung.¡±

    I pulled the chair from the small desk and sat down. ¡°You don¡¯t have asthma.¡±

    ¡°I might start having it,¡± she grumbled, flipping onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

    I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. ¡°So, what now?¡±

    Leora pushed herself up. ¡°Now? Now, we call Bob.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°No.¡±

    She turned to me, raising a brow. ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Leora crossed her arms. ¡°And why not? The Hunter¡¯s Association exists for situations exactly like this. The World Order is after us. They¡¯ll keep coming unless we make them stop.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather we deal with it ourselves,¡± I said.

    ¡°That¡¯s stupid.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But it¡¯s still my decision.¡±

    Leora narrowed her eyes. ¡°Your decision? This affects me too, you know. You think I want to be on the World Order¡¯s hit list? You think I want my son in danger? Our son in danger?¡±

    Wow. She was evolving.

    I sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s just my problem. But if we bring in the Hunters, this gets a lot bigger than just us. Bob is already on thin ice dealing with DIVINE, and if the Association openly goes against the World Order, the whole balance of power shifts.¡±

    Leora scoffed. ¡°And you think us running around the city alone will solve the problem?¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s better than escalating it to a full-scale war,¡± I said.

    She ran a hand through her hair. ¡°Reynard. Be realistic.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re being reckless.¡±

    I leaned back, meeting her gaze. ¡°If Bob gets involved, we lose control over this situation. It becomes about politics, about power plays. I don¡¯t want that.¡±

    She exhaled sharply. ¡°Then what do you suggest?¡±

    ¡°We cut off the World Order¡¯s reason for chasing us.¡±

    ¡°And how do you plan on doing that?¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. Because, truth be told, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure yet.

    Leora shook her head. ¡°Look, I get it. You don¡¯t want to owe Bob another favor, and you sure as hell don¡¯t want the Hunters tangled in this mess. But we¡¯re outmatched, and if we don¡¯t do something soon, we¡¯ll be dead.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So,¡± I repeated, ¡°I still think we should handle this ourselves.¡±

    Leora stared at me for a long moment. Then she flopped back onto the bed with an irritated groan. ¡°I hate that I know you¡¯re not going to change your mind.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t fight it,¡± I said.

    She threw a pillow at me.

    After a quick scan of our room, I set up aura threads along the windows, the door, and even the ventilation system. They weren¡¯t much, but they¡¯d serve as an early warning system if anyone tried to sneak in while we slept.

    Leora sat on the bed, arms crossed, watching me work. ¡°So, you¡¯re that paranoid?¡±

    ¡°Considering what just happened? Not paranoid enough,¡± I muttered, tying off the last thread. ¡°Alright, we should get some rest. We¡¯ll move tomorrow.¡±

    She stretched and let out a yawn. ¡°No hanky-panky?¡±

    I gave her a flat look. ¡°Yeah, because dodging bullets and running from a global shadow organization really gets me in the mood.¡±

    She smirked. ¡°Just checking.¡±

    We slept. Or at least, we tried. I had no idea if Leora actually managed to sleep, but I spent most of the night on high alert, ears tuned for the slightest disturbance. Eventually, exhaustion won, and I dozed off.

    Morning came too fast. My aura threads were untouched, so that was a relief. Leora was already up, fully dressed, stretching her limbs. ¡°We need to talk,¡± she said the moment she saw I was awake.

    I groaned, rubbing my face. ¡°Great. Arguing first thing in the morning. Love that.¡±

    ¡°We should call Bob,¡± she said, standing over me with that unreadable look she always had when she was trying to be rational. ¡°Get the Hunter¡¯s Association involved. This isn¡¯t just some Cult issue anymore¡ªthe World Order is after you. This is big.¡±

    I sighed and sat up. ¡°I know it¡¯s big, but dragging Bob into this means making this political. And making it political means it stops being just my problem.¡±

    Leora frowned. ¡°It stopped being just your problem the second they killed Rory.¡±

    I swung my legs over the bed, stood up, and stretched. ¡°We don¡¯t need Bob. Not yet. If we bring in the Hunter¡¯s Association, it turns into a war. That¡¯s exactly what the World Order doesn¡¯t want. They operate in the shadows for a reason. We can use that.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s your brilliant plan?¡± she asked, arms crossed.

    I smirked. ¡°We force their leader to the table. Make them negotiate.¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°And how do you plan on doing that?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Still working on the details. But that¡¯s the plan.¡±

    Leora muttered something under her breath and turned away. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±

    We grabbed breakfast at a small diner near the hotel. I kept my aura threads low-profile, just enough to sense any hostile intent from the other patrons. Nothing. At least for now, we were safe.

    After eating, we found an internet caf¨¦. I logged into the Hunter¡¯s Net, an underground network used by Hunters to exchange information. I sifted through reports, job listings, and recent events, looking for anything related to the World Order or Rory¡¯s murder. Nothing concrete, but I did find some chatter about heightened activity in Temon. We weren¡¯t the only ones who had noticed something was off.

    Leora sat next to me, scrolling through her own screen. ¡°Still think we don¡¯t need backup?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± I said, not looking away from the monitor. ¡°We just need to be smart about this.¡±

    She sighed but didn¡¯t argue. Not yet, anyway.

    Lunch was a quiet affair. We stayed under the radar, eating at a food stall near the market district. No auras following us. No suspicious individuals. At least, none that I could pick out.

    To keep our minds busy, we played a few rounds of pool in a bar. Leora was good. Too good. I was convinced she was using some sort of subtle aura trick to guide the shots, but I couldn¡¯t prove it. She smirked every time she sank a ball.

    ¡°You sure we shouldn¡¯t just run?¡± she asked as she lined up a shot.

    I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. ¡°You running?¡±

    She paused. ¡°¡­No.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s not waste time thinking about it.¡±

    She sank the shot. ¡°Still don¡¯t like it.¡±

    By late afternoon, we started making preparations. Gear, supplies, transportation. We found a shop that sold military-grade equipment under the table and stocked up. Knives, firearms, basic survival gear. We also bought a new car¡ªnothing fancy, just something fast and untraceable.

    All the while, we kept arguing.

    ¡°This is stupid,¡± Leora said as we loaded our supplies into the trunk. ¡°If the World Order has decided you¡¯re a problem, they won¡¯t stop. We should be using everything we¡¯ve got to fight back.¡±

    ¡°This is how we fight back,¡± I countered. ¡°We put pressure on them. Make it clear that they either talk or I keep making their lives difficult.¡±

    ¡°And if they just decide to kill you?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Then we make it as hard for them as possible.¡±

    She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. ¡°You¡¯re exhausting.¡±

    ¡°Inspiring, you mean.¡±

    ¡°No, exhausting.¡±

    We finished loading up the car. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows over the city. We still had a long road ahead of us, but I had made up my mind.

    We weren¡¯t running. We were going to force the World Order to negotiate. And I was going to make sure they had no other choice.

 082 Long Road Ahead

    082 Long Road Ahead

    We switched vehicles often, making sure to never leave a predictable trail. One moment we were in a beat-up sedan, the next, we hopped onto a commuter bus, blending in with the crowd. At train stations, we would buy tickets to multiple destinations before choosing a completely different route at the last second. It was a game of misdirection, a dance of fake trails.

    Leora leaned back in her seat, watching the city blur past through the train window. ¡°So how long do you think this mission will run?¡±

    I exhaled, calculating the moving pieces. ¡°Three months?¡±

    Leora gave me a skeptical look, resting her chin on her knuckles. ¡°Hmmm¡­ Your sense of time is wack, though.¡±

    I scoffed. ¡°Um¡­ no? It isn¡¯t my fault mission parameters can drastically change.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s exactly my point. You always think things will go according to plan, then something blows up, and suddenly, we¡¯re dealing with an entirely different mess.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t deny that. Plans always changed. That was the nature of this world¡ªespecially with the World Order involved.

    After days of constant movement¡ªchanging vehicles, switching trains, and throwing off any possible pursuers¡ªwe finally arrived at the World Wall. Specifically, the Eastern Wall.

    The World Wall was as imposing as ever, a massive structure of reinforced stone and layered defenses stretching beyond the horizon. It wasn¡¯t just a border; it was a statement. This was what protected and ensured the Claimed Lands wouldn¡¯t fragment. Without it, the territories outside would bleed into the controlled zones, bringing chaos and destruction.

    We approached the main gate, where intense security measures were in place. Towers loomed above, armed guards patrolled with a watchful gaze, and advanced detection systems scanned every individual that passed through. The entire area was built for efficiency and intimidation, discouraging anyone from trying anything foolish.

    Leora and I walked forward without hesitation, producing our Hunter IDs. The officers barely gave us a second glance before waving us through. Hunters were allowed entry here, though we were still under scrutiny. It would take some time before information about our arrival circulated through the system, so we had to move fast.

    Once inside, the city unfolded before us¡ªEastern Wall City.

    The World Wall itself wasn¡¯t just a barrier; it housed an entire city divided into four sectors, each corresponding to one of the great walls. It was a fortress, an independent ecosystem built to sustain those who lived and worked here. It had everything: trade, industry, military outposts, even entertainment districts. But beneath all of that was the ever-present weight of control. Every step here was monitored, every movement cataloged.

    Leora adjusted her coat and glanced at me. ¡°Plan¡¯s pretty simple. We go to the Forbidden Region, find the World Order¡¯s mobile headquarters, and then we punch them. As expected from my very knowledgeable husband.¡±

    I caught the sarcasm in her tone.

    ¡°Correction,¡± I replied. ¡°We talk to them. If they don¡¯t like to talk, we then punch them. And then we talk again.¡±

    Leora sighed. ¡°Very funny.¡±

    We walked through the streets of Eastern Wall City, blending in with the steady stream of people going about their daily lives. The city itself was surprisingly normal for a place built into a giant war fortress. If someone saw us now, they¡¯d probably think we were just another couple out shopping, enjoying each other¡¯s company.

    I made jokes. Leora laughed. She made jokes. I laughed.

    For a while, we were just two people, not fugitives, not Hunters on a mission¡ªjust us. It was nice.

    We found a shop selling potions, tucked away between an armory and a general supply store. The potions here were expensive, but that was expected. Everything inside the World Wall had a huge markup. Still, we needed them. I grabbed a few stamina and healing potions, while Leora picked out an antidote set.

    After securing them in our duffel bag, we shopped around some more, looking for gear.

    "Selena taught me how to use a gun and a drone," I said, inspecting one of the hovering models on display.

    "She teaches you one thing, and now you think you¡¯re a pro?" Leora smirked.

    "I never said that. But I can at least get them to work without blowing myself up."This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Leora sighed. "We should¡¯ve bought drones outside. The ones here are overpriced as hell."

    "Convenience tax," I replied.

    "Scam tax," she muttered but still picked out a couple of models.

    We continued our shopping spree, securing a buggy, a tent, and other necessities for the journey ahead. Every purchase was carefully considered¡ªnot just for survival, but for staying mobile.

    Once everything was packed, we were ready.

    Leora adjusted her katana at her waist. "Alright. Time to go punch some secret overlords."

    "Correction¡ªtalk first, punch second."

    She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let¡¯s go."

    With that, we proceeded with our adventure.

    Leora was on driving duty, which made sense¡ªher reflexes were way sharper than mine. But that also meant I had to put up with her driving style.

    The second she hit the accelerator, I knew I was in for a ride. The buggy shot forward, kicking up dust as she maneuvered through the winding roads leading out of Eastern Wall City.

    Leora let out a loud, cackling laugh, gripping the steering wheel like some kind of lunatic.

    ¡°Hahahaha! This thing¡¯s got some real kick! Maybe I should drive like this all the time!¡±

    ¡°Leora, for the love of everything, at least pretend you care about traffic laws!¡± I shouted, gripping my seat for dear life.

    ¡°What traffic laws? We¡¯re in a fortress city at the edge of civilization! The only rule here is don''t die!¡±

    ¡°Exactly! And you¡¯re doing a great job making that difficult!¡±

    She swerved sharply around a slower vehicle, narrowly missing it. The driver honked in protest, but Leora only grinned.

    ¡°I should get into racing. I think I¡¯d be amazing at it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be banned from it. Immediately.¡±

    She cackled again, shifting gears and picking up even more speed.

    The buggy bounced over the uneven terrain as we left the city outskirts.

    I was seriously considering switching to the driver¡¯s seat the next time we stopped. But for now, I just held on and hoped we¡¯d survive this joyride.

    The ruined highways vanished rather quickly, giving way to a rough, beaten path through the dense forest. The canopy overhead blocked out much of the sunlight, casting long shadows across the dirt road. It was eerily quiet¡ªno other vehicles in sight.

    Leora, for once, was keeping to a reasonable speed limit. No reckless driving here. It wasn¡¯t because she¡¯d suddenly gained a sense of caution, though¡ªit was because this was cryptid territory. If something decided to pounce on us, she wanted to have enough reaction time to either dodge or fight back.

    I, on the other hand, was focused on my smartphone, trying to get a signal. The connection flickered in and out as we moved, but eventually, I got through. The screen lit up with an incoming video call. I tapped the button.

    Selena¡¯s face appeared on the screen, dimly lit by whatever light source she had nearby. It was dark on her side.

    "Reynard," she greeted, tilting her head. "Took you long enough to call. I was starting to think you got yourselves killed."

    "Still alive. We made it past Eastern Wall City and into the Forbidden Region," I said. "Things got complicated back at Temon. It was the World Order after all."

    Selena let out a sharp breath. "Figured. What¡¯s your plan now?"

    I glanced at Leora, who was keeping her eyes on the road but was clearly listening. "We¡¯re heading deeper in. If they wanted to kill me, they wouldn¡¯t have sent that much firepower. They want something. We¡¯re going to find out what."

    "Good luck with that." Selena sighed. "You sure you two don¡¯t want backup?"

    Leora cut in. "How¡¯s Leon?"

    Selena turned her camera around for a second, showing Leon curled up under a thick blanket. He was fast asleep.

    "He¡¯s fine," she said. "Still a little ball of energy during the day, but he crashes hard at night. Kid¡¯s a menace."

    Leora chuckled. "Yeah¡­ sounds like him."

    Selena turned the camera back to herself. "So, what else is up?"

    "Not much," I said. "Just trying not to die. You?"

    "Enjoying my vacation."

    "Since when is running away from secret organizations and taking care of a kid considered a vacation?"

    "Since I get to do whatever I want while doing it," she said with a smirk.

    Leora snorted. "Sounds about right."

    We talked for a bit longer¡ªmostly about mundane things. It was nice, a temporary distraction from everything. But eventually, we had to end the call and refocus.

    The road ahead was only going to get more dangerous.

    We had been cruising through the dense forest for a while when I spotted something up ahead. A massive figure stood in the middle of the road, holding what looked like a tree trunk.

    "Is that a troll?" I asked.

    "Fuck him," Leora said, completely unfazed.

    Trolls were bad news. They weren¡¯t just big¡ªthey were terrifyingly strong, and their healing factor made them even worse. Some pharmaceutical companies even used troll blood for making high-grade potions, which was why hunting them was both lucrative and incredibly risky.

    Leora punched the gas.

    The troll let out a guttural roar, lifting the tree trunk over its head, ready to bring it down on us. I scrambled to the back of the buggy, grabbing the anti-materiel rifle we had bought earlier. I didn¡¯t get many chances to use one of these, but if there was ever a time¡ª

    Before I could even fire, Leora vanished from the driver¡¯s seat.

    Oh shit¡ª

    A blur of motion, and in the next instant, the troll was bisected at the waist. A fine mist of blood sprayed through the air as Leora landed gracefully from her mid-air strike. The top half of the troll hit the ground with a dull thud, its lifeless fingers still clutching the tree trunk.

    Meanwhile, the buggy¡ªstill accelerating¡ªraced forward, about to crash into the remains.

    And then, as if she had planned for this, Leora flipped through the air, landed back on the buggy¡¯s frame, and slithered seamlessly into the driver¡¯s seat, taking control before we crashed.

    I slowly lowered the rifle, still lying across the buggy¡¯s back.

    "...Show-off," I muttered.

    Leora grinned, not even out of breath. "You love it."

    I huffed, shaking my head, and returned to my seat. The buggy sped on, leaving the troll¡¯s corpse behind us. Leora kept her grip firm on the wheel as the buggy sped down the rough dirt path, leaving the bisected troll behind us. The scent of blood still lingered in the air, but she didn¡¯t seem to care.

    "Don¡¯t waste bullets if we can deal with it up close," she said, giving me a smug side glance.

    "You are so hot," I muttered, still slightly in awe.

    Leora smirked. "Damn right I am."

    She revved the engine, kicking up dust as we continued deeper into the wilderness.

 083 Verde Village

    The World Order stood apart from the other two great organizations of our time. While the Hunter¡¯s Association operated under the President and the Ten Directors, and the Government was overseen by the Council of the People, the World Order was different. It did not rely on democracy or a network of leaders. Instead, it functioned under a single authority¡ªthe Heavenly Pillar, also known as the World Pillar.

    A singular, shadowed ruler. No oversight. No bureaucracy. Just absolute command.

    And that was the problem.

    Unlike the President of the Hunter¡¯s Association or the Council of the People, the identity of the Heavenly Pillar remained a mystery. Few even knew whether it was a single person or a title passed down in secret. What was certain, however, was that the World Order¡¯s leader was the reason the organization remained as powerful as the other two combined.

    And now, I was going to force this hidden figure to talk.

    Our vehicle came to a slow stop at the edge of an abandoned village. The place was desolate and bare, swallowed by time and nature. Crumbling buildings stood like empty husks, stripped of their former life. What had once been a small settlement was now nothing more than a whisper of history.

    I stepped out, taking in the eerie silence. ¡°Welcome to the lost village of Verde.¡±

    Leora stretched, cracking her neck before shutting the buggy¡¯s door behind her. ¡°It took us weeks to find this place, and it only worked because you knew the right people.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Yeah, I know. I¡¯m great like that.¡±

    She rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t argue.

    I walked to the back of the buggy, grabbing an assault rifle from our gear while Leora strapped on her katana and slung a shotgun over her shoulder. The weight of the rifle was familiar in my hands, a tool rather than a crutch. I wasn¡¯t a marksman, but Selena had taught me enough to make my shots count.

    This place was a gamble, but it was the best lead we had. If the World Order¡¯s mobile headquarters was anywhere near, it wouldn¡¯t take long before we got some company.

    World Artifacts.

    Anything that bore the World prefix carried immense significance. These were the foundation upon which humanity had stabilized after the great fragmentation. They weren¡¯t just powerful¡ªthey were necessary.

    The Hunter¡¯s Association had World Path and World Tower. The Government controlled World Wall and World Veil. Meanwhile, the World Order possessed World Pillar, World Hand, and World Dogma.

    These artifacts were created during the final days before the world shattered. Back when the discovery of aura had reached its breaking point, when nations and super nations had crumbled, and when the very concept of stability had become nothing more than a myth. They were meant to be lifelines¡ªanchors to ensure humanity¡¯s survival even in a world fractured beyond recognition.

    And I was after one of them.

    Leora glanced around the ruins of the lost village, her grip firm on the shotgun slung over her shoulder. ¡°So, what are we doing here again?¡±

    I adjusted the assault rifle in my hands. ¡°There¡¯s an artifact here. A remnant from the pre-fragmented world. We¡¯ll need it to track the World Pillar and possibly convince it to leave us alone.¡±

    She gave me a skeptical look. ¡°I believe you¡­ just that I find it weird there are still civilizations out here in the Forbidden Region.¡±

    That made sense. Like Selena, Leora had spent most of her life fighting other people in the Claimed Lands. Her battles were against criminals, rogue hunters, and rival factions. Her world was one of human-on-human conflict.

    But me? My knowledge of this place came from research and something deeper¡ªmeta-knowledge. As the author of Hunterworks, I had designed this world, its laws, and its hidden pieces. And now, I was walking through one of them.

    ¡°We¡¯re not the first ones here,¡± I said, scanning the surroundings. The wind howled through broken structures, carrying with it the whispers of old ghosts. ¡°If we don¡¯t move fast, we won¡¯t be the last either.¡±

    ´°Ìå¶¥¶Ë

    ´°Ìåµ×¶Ë

    The village of Verde was nothing more than a husk of what it once was. Cracked roads lined with overgrown weeds stretched between dilapidated houses. The windows were shattered, their jagged remains catching the dim light filtering through the ever-present haze of the Forbidden Region. Faded signs hung from rusting poles, their words long since worn away by time and neglect.

    Leora and I moved cautiously, weapons ready. This place had been abandoned for years¡ªat least, that¡¯s what the records said. But I had long since learned that records couldn¡¯t always be trusted.

    We checked the first building: an old general store. Empty shelves, broken glass, and remnants of dried-up food containers filled the space. No signs of life.

    The second building was a residential house, its door hanging off its hinges. Inside, dust coated everything in thick layers. A broken picture frame lay on the floor, its photo faded beyond recognition.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Leora huffed, kicking at a fallen chair. ¡°What are we looking for again? This place is just abandoned, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, I moved toward an old dresser, opening each drawer. Useless. Just rotting wood and dead insects. I turned back to Leora, meeting her gaze.

    ¡°Let¡¯s continue looking,¡± I said.

    She sighed but didn¡¯t argue. We had come too far to leave empty-handed.

    We pushed forward, checking every building, overturning furniture, searching through cabinets. The air was thick with dust, and every step stirred up the past. The people who once lived here had left in a hurry¡ªif they had even left at all.

    Somewhere in this forgotten village was something that had no place in the present. A relic from the past. A World Artifact. And we were going to find it.

    Originally, there had only been seven World Artifacts. Their existence was foundational to what remained of civilization, each playing a role in keeping the world from completely fracturing. But then, I wrote the side stories¡­ and added another three.

    Each World Artifact had the ability to locate others and communicate between them. They were meant to be used together, like pieces of a larger puzzle, ensuring humanity¡¯s survival. If I was going to track the World Pillar and force a conversation, I needed a World Artifact of my own.

    The problem? They were bound to their owners.

    We searched through another abandoned house, the wooden floors creaking under our steps. I pulled open cabinets, finding nothing but dust and broken ceramics. Leora leaned against a table, shotgun slung over her back.

    ¡°So why not just borrow one from the Hunter¡¯s Association?¡± she asked. ¡°Atropos is your sister, Bob¡¯s basically your ally. They¡¯d help you out.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s impossible. Unless I kill Bob.¡±

    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°The World Artifacts are coded to their owners,¡± I explained. ¡°They can lend out a percentage of their authority, sure, but for me to actually negotiate with the World Pillar on equal footing, I need full control over a World Artifact. And that only happens if I inherit one completely¡­ which means the original owner has to die.¡±

    She clicked her tongue, clearly unimpressed. ¡°That¡¯s some bullshit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It is.¡±

    I moved to the next building, brushing aside old newspapers. This wasn¡¯t just about finding some lost relic. It was about control. The World Order operated under a singular leadership, and the World Pillar¡ªwhoever they were¡ªwouldn¡¯t take me seriously unless I had something that put me on their level.

    I needed a World Artifact. And according to the Hunterworks I wrote, one was buried here.

    The door creaked as I stepped out of yet another empty, dust-ridden house. Still no sign of the artifact. Just more broken furniture and faded memories of a village long since lost to time.

    Then, without warning, Leora rolled forward, shotgun raised.

    BOOM!

    Something in front of me exploded into misty red. Warm blood splattered across my face. I instinctively wiped it off, my fingers smearing the liquid across my cheek.

    I squinted at the barely visible figure collapsing to the ground, its form shimmering, distorting, before fading like heat haze. Camouflaged? No¡­ something more than that.

    Leora wasted no time. She pivoted, aimed, and fired again.

    BOOM!

    Another figure fell, this time closer. I exhaled sharply, stepping toward her, keeping my back close to hers.

    I equipped Connection, Homing, and Weakness. Three attributes. A strain, but manageable. My non-tactile threads spread outward, feeling for disturbances in the air, in heat, in movement. And sure enough¡­

    There were more.

    A lot more.

    Leora¡¯s grip on her shotgun tightened. ¡°I can feel their bioelectricity and gravity wells. They¡¯re not visible in any light spectrum. We are surrounded.¡±

    I clicked my tongue. ¡°They¡¯re called Invisible Men.¡±

    Leora snorted. ¡°That¡¯s a dumb name.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, so is Bigfoot, but people still call it that.¡± I shifted slightly, making sure my aura threads covered every possible angle. ¡°And yes, they¡¯re all male. And yes, they¡¯re all perverts.¡±

    Leora cocked her head, unimpressed. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll do their best not to kill you.¡±

    A pause.

    Then her expression twisted in utter disgust.

    ¡°Oh, fuck no.¡±

    It was different for me, though.

    These bastards would kill me.

    We cut our way through the invisible cryptids, their shimmering forms barely registering in the dim light of the abandoned village. Leora moved like a force of nature, her katana slicing through the air in blinding arcs while her shotgun barked at anything that got too close.

    I gestured toward the tallest building in sight. ¡°There! We take the high ground!¡±

    Leora wasted no time.

    She vanished from my side in a blur, the force of her movement kicking up dust as she crashed through the window of the building, showering the room inside with glass shards. The guttural screams of the cryptids barely lasted before she silenced them with brutal efficiency¡ªher shotgun roaring, her katana singing.

    I thwipped a solidified aura thread onto the edge of the window frame and reeled myself in, twisting mid-air to fire at the creatures swarming behind me. The bullets connected, forcing them back, but they didn¡¯t go down. Resilient bastards.

    Leora barely let me land before she grabbed my collar and ran.

    She moved so fast the air pressure nearly knocked the wind out of me. I gripped my rifle tightly, pointing it back toward the window we had just escaped through and fired blindly. The splat of blood told me I hit something, but I wasn¡¯t in a position to check if it was fatal.

    I could feel them now. A swarm of invisible bodies closing in from all angles.

    ¡°Up,¡± Leora said. And before I could react, she threw me with every ounce of her Fighter Aura.

    I shot through the air like a missile, twisting just in time to land against the side of the building. With a quick burst of Seeker Aura, my boots stuck to the wall. Without hesitation, I sprinted along the surface, using the momentum to reach the roof where Leora was already waiting¡ªher katana flashing as she tore through the horde.

    The creatures were more resilient than I expected. They weren¡¯t going down easily, and they were far more numerous than Leora could handle alone.

    I took position at the stairwell, rifle raised, and fired.

    Pop! Blood splattered across the roof. The air stank of iron and gunpowder.

    Leora, breathing hard, didn¡¯t stop cutting.

    ¡°They just keep on coming!¡± she growled.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather kill them now than retreat!¡± I ejected a spent magazine, reloaded, and fired again, this time more accurately.

    Leora let go of her shotgun and fully committed to melee. She slashed, twisted, and sliced with such fluidity that it was mesmerizing to watch. But even with her speed, the cryptids weren¡¯t staying down.

    I narrowed my eyes, straining my Connection attribute through my aura threads. The cryptids¡¯ forms became slightly clearer to me. Their movements, their weaknesses¡ª

    Leora swung, her katana flaring with light, and beheaded two in a single stroke.

    I saw it then. The difference.

    ¡°They¡¯ve got a healing factor,¡± I muttered.

    Leora kicked a corpse off her blade. ¡°No shit.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean¡ª¡± I squinted, letting my aura threads dig deeper into the creatures. ¡°Beheading works!¡±

    Leora grinned. ¡°Finally, some good news.¡±

    Then she vanished again¡ªdiving straight into the swarm with nothing but her blade and a thirst for blood.

 084 Drenched in Blood

    084 Drenched in Blood

    I lost count of how many cryptids we killed.

    Leora was a demon of war, slicing through them like she was the protagonist of a hack-and-slash game. Her katana carved bloody arcs through the air, and every swing left a trail of bisected bodies. She moved faster than the eye could follow¡ªone second she was in front of me, the next she was across the rooftop, sending limbs flying.

    Meanwhile, I was playing a different game entirely. A first-person shooter.

    I stayed at the edge, firing round after round, guiding my bullets with Homing attribute, making sure each shot counted. Some of the cryptids jerked mid-movement, their bodies twisting unnaturally as bullets buried into their skulls. Others staggered for a moment before getting back up, their healing factors keeping them alive. Annoying bastards.

    Still, we were holding our ground.

    Until I heard a click.

    My rifle was empty.

    I quickly checked my ammo pouch. Nothing.

    Shit. The buggy was too far away to grab more supplies.

    Leora, of course, was still going at it like a lunatic. I didn¡¯t have the luxury of sitting back anymore.

    I pulled out my daggers and joined the hack-and-slash.

    Leora¡¯s movements were wild but controlled, full of experience and instinct. I, on the other hand, moved with calculated precision, covering her blind spots and striking down anything that tried to get too close. My aura threads extended from my daggers, allowing me to feel and anticipate movements in the chaotic battlefield.

    I went for the necks.

    One clean slice, and they stayed down.

    The more we fought, the more the sheer number of cryptids started to sink in. The Forbidden Region was no joke. These creatures weren¡¯t just monsters¡ªthey were an ecosystem of their own, thriving in the absence of human civilization. If we hadn¡¯t been experienced fighters, if we hadn¡¯t come prepared, we would¡¯ve been dead ten times over.

    Eventually, we stood atop a mountain of corpses.

    To our side was a building, its interior teeming with even more cryptids. Their shimmering, nearly invisible forms twitched and writhed in the shadows, watching us, waiting.

    Leora took a deep breath and wiped her blood-drenched hand on my pants.

    ¡°Hooo~ that was intense,¡± she said with a grin.

    I frowned at her. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Why? I¡¯m completely drenched in here. Get it? Drenched?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°You and Selena share a single brain cell when it comes to humor.¡±

    ¡°Booo~! So boring.¡±

    She pouted, but I could still see the excitement in her eyes. Even after all that bloodshed, she was enjoying herself.

    We were standing on a pile of dead Invisible Men.

    Well¡­ not invisible anymore.

    Five minutes after death, these cryptids reverted to their original forms. Their bodies were thick and muscular, covered in patches of orange fur that contrasted sharply against their albino skin. Their eyes, now lifeless, were a distinct shade of orange. They looked like Neanderthals¡ªbroad, heavy-browed, and primitive.

    And yes¡­ they were very male.

    All of them were in fact male.

    Moving on.

    It was lucky that none of them had developed aura yet. Invisible Men were a type of cryptid that started by genetically enhancing themselves, and only later¡ªafter reaching a certain maturity¡ªdid they begin touching aura. If even one of them had been an aura user, this fight would have been a lot worse.

    In the original Hunterworks story, Leon would have fought two aura-wielding Invisible Men at the same time. I frowned, thinking about that.

    If we didn¡¯t do something, my son¡¯s life was going to be absolute misery.

    I exhaled and looked down at my hands, feeling the lingering traces of my technique still at work.

    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the rest,¡± I said.

    I had been using Soul Marionette since the fight began, slowly spreading my influence through my aura threads. By now, I had control over a small but sizable number of Invisible Men hiding throughout the village. My threads had suffused every building, weaving through the streets and alleyways, allowing me to detect even the faintest movement.

    The coin in my breast pocket was still teeming with aura. Good. That means I have enough reserves to maintain control.

    One positive thing that came out of sealing Leon¡¯s memory had been it was a very good aura practice for me. In more ways than one, my aura control had improved by leaps and bounds. It sucked that I wasn¡¯t able to experiment or derive new abilties, since discovering my theme, but this was also fine.

    Leora wiped her bloodied katana on her sleeve and stretched her arms. ¡°So what now?¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. We continue searching?¡±

    She groaned. ¡°Ughhh. This is the worst treasure hunt ever.¡±

    So we did continue searching.

    The situation was less than ideal¡ªstanding on a pile of dead cryptids, drenched in blood, and surrounded by buildings that likely housed even more of them¡ªbut I knew the artifact had to be here.

    The World Compass.

    A Maker Artifact, one of the rarest and most powerful tools in existence. Unlike the other World Artifacts that held dominion over entire organizations, this one had a different function¡ªit could point me toward whatever I desired.

    I had no interest in treasure hunting for gold or relics. But if the World Compass could point me to the Prophet, then I¡¯d gladly take it.

    In fact, I would have prioritized it. But there was a problem. Just like how the Seven Extremes and I were blind spots to the Prophet¡¯s foresight, the Prophet would be a blind spot to the World Compass.

    That was wy the World Compass hadn¡¯t been a priority to me, until now.

    As I wiped the blood off my assault rifle, Leora called out.

    "Hey, you said it was a compass, right?"

    I glanced up. "Yeah. You found it?"

    Leora pointed down at the pile of corpses. "Among the dead cryptids."

    Well, that explained it.

    Back when I wrote the Hunterworks side stories, introducing the extra World Artifacts, there were some things I never fully explored. Some mysteries I left unsolved¡ªlike where the World Compass had been before it reached Verde Village.

    In the original arc, it simply wasn¡¯t important.

    But now?

    The evidence in front of me said otherwise. The World Compass had been in the possession of the Invisible Men.

    ´°Ìå¶¥¶Ë

    ´°Ìåµ×¶Ë

    Leora handed me the World Compass.

    It was a strange thing¡ªsmaller than I expected. Roughly the size of my palm, it had a thick, circular frame made of an unknown black metal. It wasn¡¯t smooth but had intricate carvings, like veins running through obsidian. The center housed a floating needle, hovering above a swirling pool of liquid silver. The needle didn¡¯t rest on anything physical, but rather, it suspended itself in the air, constantly shifting, as if alive.

    At the edge of the frame, barely visible, were tiny glyphs¡ªeach one representing something, though their meaning was lost on me.

    I felt something just by holding it.

    A hum. A faint pulse of energy.

    It wasn¡¯t like a standard aura artifact where energy radiated outward. This one was subtle, reserved. It was like it was waiting¡ªwaiting for its next command.

    I closed my fingers around it. "It¡¯s gonna take me some time to affix to it with my aura."

    Leora wiped her bloodied katana on the nearest corpse and sheathed it. "Then let¡¯s go find a place to rest and lie low."

    I nodded. "Good idea."

    Leora and I rode the buggy through the wilds, leaving behind the ruined village of Verde.

    The Forbidden Region stretched endlessly before us¡ªrolling hills of untamed greenery, thick forests that swallowed the horizon, and crumbling remnants of the old world, all battling against nature¡¯s reclamation. It was a land of chaos and opportunity, where factions staked their claims and where cryptids thrived in the absence of human dominance.

    After an hour of driving, we spotted a cluster of floodlights in the distance, casting a faint glow against the darkening sky.

    A Government Outpost.

    Out here, there were no real laws¡ªonly the authority one could enforce. It wasn¡¯t just the Government that built bases like these. The Hunter¡¯s Association, mega corporations, private militias, and even smaller city-states established footholds in the Forbidden Region, using them as supply hubs, research centers, or even black market trade posts.

    This one belonged to the Government.

    The outer perimeter was surrounded by high concrete walls reinforced with steel plating. Mounted turrets stood at the corners, and at the entrance, a massive sliding gate blocked passage. Above it, floodlights tracked movement with eerie precision.

    We slowed down as we approached the checkpoint. A small booth sat just beside the gate, with a bored-looking guard standing in front of it. He wore a gray tactical uniform with the Council of the People¡¯s insignia¡ªa broken chain wrapped around a sword¡ªstitched onto his chest.

    He barely looked up from his tablet as we pulled up.

    "Credentials," he muttered.

    I fished out my Hunter ID and handed it over. Leora did the same. The guard scanned both cards, took a glance at our buggy¡ªstill stained with cryptid blood¡ªthen tapped a few things on his screen.

    "You¡¯re clear," he said. "Please, no harassing the barmaids¡ª"

    I frowned. "Do you think I¡¯d harass barmaids? Huh? Don¡¯t you see I have a wife?"

    Leora sighed, grabbed my arm, and forced a smile. "Sorry about that, officer."

    As she pulled me aside, she whispered, "What¡¯s your problem?"

    I rubbed my temples. "I don¡¯t know¡­ For some reason¡­ I suddenly feel very emotional. It¡¯s not me, promise."

    The guard sighed, unimpressed. "You¡¯re free to go. Ma¡¯am, please keep a leash on your husband. You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m a chill guy or I¡¯d have abused my authority and kicked you out for shouting at me. I have a delicate heart."

    Leora shot him an apologetic look. "Thank you, sir."

    The gate creaked open, and we drove inside.

    The outpost was alive with the hum of commerce and the ever-present chatter of hunters, mercenaries, and opportunists looking to make a quick profit. As we navigated through the main street, voices bombarded us from every direction.

    "Fresh pelts from cryptids! High-quality fangs and bones for crafting¡ªcome take a look!"

    "Need a team? Looking for experienced hunters for an escort mission to the Shore! Pays well!"

    "Got potions! Stamina boosters, aura recovery, painkillers¡ªdon¡¯t head into the wilds without stocking up!"

    But the loudest voices belonged to a group of hunters standing atop a makeshift platform. They wore mismatched armor, some dented and battle-worn, others gleaming with expensive modifications. A tall, broad-shouldered man, who looked like he had seen one too many fights, raised his hands and shouted over the noise of the crowd.

    "Join us for an expedition into the Deep! We¡¯re heading beyond the Shore¡ªbeyond the safe zones! Riches, glory, and the chance to make history!"

    Leora glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "Still the same old song, huh?"

    I nodded. "Yeah¡­ I remember when this trend started. I never thought they were still on it. Back when you just returned to the Hunter work, there was some kind of arrangement where groups were trying to organize expeditions."

    ¡° I heard.¡± She sighed. "And none of them ended well."

    Occasionally, there were people who dared venture further into the Forbidden Region. It was divided into three major sections:

    <ol>

    <li>The Shore¨C This was the outermost part, hugging the World Wall. It made up only about 2¨C3% of the total Forbidden Region. Of all the territories, this was the safest. Hunters could operate here without constantly looking over their shoulders, and outposts like this one thrived.</li>

    <li>The Deep¨C A land of chaos and mystery. Vast, cracked landscapes where reality itself seemed unstable. This place was largely unmapped, shifting unpredictably due to forces not yet fully understood. Strange anomalies, unpredictable terrain, and cryptids beyond comprehension roamed here. Even the best-equipped hunters struggled to return from its depths.</li>

    <li>The Fringes¨C The farthest reaches, where the Forbidden Region blurred into something else. The Fringes weren¡¯t just dangerous; they were unreal. Gravity twisted unpredictably, time flowed strangely, and no one who ventured in ever came back to tell the tale.</li>

    </ol>

    And yet, here they were, calling for volunteers to push deeper into the unknown.

    "Come on!" the expedition leader shouted. "Think about it¡ªfame, fortune, and discoveries no one has made before! We¡¯ve got the gear, we¡¯ve got the plan! All we need now is you! Join us, and let¡¯s make history!"

    A few hunters murmured among themselves, tempted. Some even stepped forward.

    Leora scoffed. "Idiots."

    "Not our problem," I muttered.

    We walked past the gathering, ignoring the excited voices and the hopeful fools ready to sign their death warrants.