《The Novel's Dad?》


 1 The Novels Dad?

    ¡°I am sorry, Reynard¡­ 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 dear¡­ and I am sorry¡­¡±


    I stared at the baby in my arms. Leonard. Two months old. My son.


    He babbled, oblivious to the chaos surrounding us. Lucky him.


    I glanced at the ceiling, or what was left of it after my wife tore through it with her hunter powers. The place groaned like it was contemplating retirement after that.


    Then, I stared at one of the grunts lying on the floor, barely surviving her "goodbye" gift. He groaned too. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was in pain or just offended.


    I exhaled. This wasn¡¯t exactly how I imagined fatherhood.


    It had been ten years since I transmigrated to this world. At first, I thought it was a parallel universe to Earth¡ªpretty normal. You know, a bit rustic, but manageable. Then, boom. Hunters, forbidden regions, aura powers, and secret organizations came out of nowhere like uninvited guests at a party.


    ¡°I should¡¯ve seen the signs¡­¡± I muttered to myself, feeling like the world''s biggest idiot.


    To think I¡¯d transmigrated into my own novel, Hunterworks, and somehow fathered the protagonist. Great. Just great.


    Reynard. 27 years old. Single father.


    Current status: very screwed.


    I flipped the nearly dead grunt over with my foot, his body limp like a sack of bad decisions. His groan was cut short when I picked up his gun. With Leonard still cradled in my other arm, I carefully turned his tiny face away. I wasn¡¯t about to let my two-month-old watch his dad do this.


    Then, I shot the grunt in the face. Clean. No hesitation.


    His chest was already torn apart, a gaping hole that looked like a crater after an aura strike. Classic hunter move. Aura really did work miracles in the most violent ways.


    But a bullet between the eyebrows? That should seal the deal. Just in case, you know?


    ¡°Aura is such a miraculous thing after all¡­¡± I muttered, blowing the smoke from the barrel. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s next?¡±


    I practically ran to the garage, heart pounding in my chest. No time to waste. I walked straight to my car, threw the baby seat in the back, and sped out of there like I was trying to outrun a bad decision.


    Three years ago, I fell in love. Hard. The kind of love that makes you feel like you¡¯ve won the lottery.


    I should¡¯ve known there was a catch. If something looks too good to be true, there was usually a catch.


    My highest priority was survival¡ªmine and my baby¡¯s. Everything else could wait.


    Being part of the "mundane world," I was practically a sitting duck. No aura powers, no hunter connections, nothing that could shield me from the chaos of the "hunter world." I¡¯d always known my wife was a bit of a klutz, but this? This took things to a whole new level.


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    I sighed, my thoughts drifting back to the novel. The story started with Leonard, an orphaned kid recruited into the Hunter''s Academy, the elite training ground for the next generation of hunters. Knowing that was supposed to happen about ten years from now, I realized just how truly screwed I was.


    My wife had it better, in a way. Her death in the novel? That had been fake, something I wrote as a clich¨¦ plot twist. I thought it was clever at the time. Now, I wasn¡¯t so sure.


    I should have faked the dad¡¯s death too. Would¡¯ve made this whole thing a lot easier.


    I parked by the lake, the engine still ticking as I stepped out of the car. The cool air hit me, and I took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.


    Calm down, me. Panicking wouldn''t help anyone, least of all me.


    Leora said she¡¯d buy me time. How much? I had no clue. A month, maybe? That seemed like a safe bet, but honestly, who knew?


    What was I supposed to do in a month? Hide out in the mountains?


    Hmmm¡­ maybe that could actually work...


    I drove to the next city, trying to keep my mind on the plan and not on the fact that I had no idea what I was really doing. First stop: the bank. I withdrew all of my cash, every last bit of it. I even tried to liquidate my assets, even if it meant taking a loss. Survival wasn¡¯t exactly a profitable business.


    After that, I drove around the city, searching for some sign of the black market. But as a "mundane," that was like trying to find a needle in a haystack¡ªwhile blindfolded. It wasn¡¯t like I had insider knowledge of how the hunter world operated.


    So, what did I do? I hired pickpockets. Yeah, I was that desperate. I paid them to steal some phones for me, burner phones that couldn¡¯t be traced back to me. I needed to go off-grid, and fast.


    Using my own email, my credit cards, or anything remotely tied to my old life would be like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for the hunters. And I wasn¡¯t exactly in the mood to be hunted. But I still had to keep tabs on the world, somehow.


    While I planned to hide out in the mountains, I wasn¡¯t ready to completely disappear. Not yet.


    Next up, I did some shopping. Lots of shopping. If I was going to hide in the mountains, I needed to be prepared.


    I bought solar panels¡ªcouldn¡¯t exactly count on power lines out there. Then came the essentials: loads of canned goods, a compound bow (because I figured I should look cool while surviving), a machete, and a whetstone to keep it sharp.


    I tossed in a camp lighter, a tent, solar-powered lamps, and basically anything that screamed ¡°off-the-grid survival.¡± My cart looked like I was preparing for the apocalypse.


    ¡°This is the best I can do, I guess¡­¡± I muttered to myself, hoping it would be enough.


    I filled the car¡¯s tank to the brim, then drove like a madman from one city to the next. When the tank hit halfway, I sold the car for cheap to some kid who thought he¡¯d just hit the jackpot. Poor guy had no idea.


    Next, I started hitchhiking north. Every time I stopped in a city, I¡¯d lay low, hiding in motels, always looking over my shoulder. Then, I¡¯d hitchhike again, northbound, repeating the process like I was trying to lose a tail I couldn¡¯t even see.


    Finally, after what felt like a lifetime (specifically four days), I arrived in the Mivih Mountains.


    My baby boy started crying, his little face scrunching up like he was about to sound the alarm on my terrible planning.


    ¡°Ah, shit,¡± I muttered, rubbing my forehead. ¡°I forgot to buy milk.¡±


    Of all the things I stocked up on¡ªsolar panels, canned food, weapons¡ªI somehow missed the most basic, crucial supply for a baby. Milk. Great job, Dad. Just brilliant.


    The panic got the better of me, huh?


    Leonard¡ªor Leon, as I called him¡ªwas kind of weird. Not in a bad way, just¡­ different. For one, he rarely ate, which was why I¡¯d forgotten the milk in the first place. My wife had always assured me it was natural. Hunter genes, I guessed. Still, I¡¯d grabbed some milk between cities just to be safe¡­ not that there were any leftovers. Shoplifting milk wasn¡¯t exactly commendable. I¡¯d hate to leave a paper trail after all everytime I¡¯d be hiding in a city.


    As I stood there, trying to calm him down, I heard rustling nearby. I froze. Slowly turning my head, I spotted something moving through the trees.


    A tiger. A big one.


    Because of course there¡¯s a tiger. Why wouldn¡¯t there be?


    Out of nowhere, Leon waved his tiny hand, and a fireball appeared. A literal fireball. It shot straight toward the tiger, hitting it square in the side. The tiger yelped and bolted, leaving a trail of smoke behind.


    I stared at the baby, who was now happily babbling as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°Yep, definitely hunter genes¡­¡± I muttered, still processing the fact that my two-month-old just roasted a tiger.


    I groaned. "Okay, I definitely need to backtrack and buy lots of milk."

 2 Milk, Mayhem, and Mountains

    It had been two years.


    The tent? Wrecked after two months of rough mountain living. I had to improvise after that. Now, we were living in a cave. Yep, a literal cave. Shoddy furniture made from scraps and sticks littered the place. I even rigged up a water system using bamboo¡ªit was primitive, but it worked.


    Looking around, I still remembered the struggle of making this cave somewhat livable. Why? Because I forgot to buy tools. No hammer, no shovel, nothing remotely useful for basic construction. I mean, I¡¯d never done any construction work in my life, so sue me.


    Somehow, we made it work.


    It helped that I¡¯d managed to hire an aunty from the nearest town to do the grocery runs for me. The milk problem? Solved. She stocked up on it like we were running a dairy. Same went for other essentials, like the shovel I was currently using to bury Leon¡¯s latest¡­ contribution¡­ just outside the cave.


    As I dug, I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°This is what my life¡¯s come to. Burying my kid¡¯s crap in the wilderness.¡±


    At least the shovel made it easier. I really should¡¯ve thought of that two years ago.


    Next, I headed down to the river to wash the soft cloth we¡¯d been using as a substitute diaper. No soap, though¡ªI was being thrifty. I didn¡¯t want to waste supplies, even though I still had a full briefcase of cash stashed back in the cave. Hopefully, that would last us until Leonard was done with milk and diapers.


    As I scrubbed the cloth in the cold water, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how my wife was doing these days. Was she okay? Still out there buying me time?


    I sighed. Wishing she¡¯d find us felt like wishful thinking. Too easy, too hopeful. And hope didn¡¯t exactly seem to be in abundance right now.


    I returned to the cave, feeling a bit more at peace after my chore at the river. As I stepped inside, I saw Leon sitting quietly in one corner, sucking on his pacifier like the perfect little angel.


    Then, I noticed something else.


    Behind him, the sofa was on fire. Flames casually licking up the fabric, as if this was just a normal Tuesday.


    I sighed for the second time. ¡°Of course. Why wouldn¡¯t the sofa be on fire?¡±


    ¡°Leon,¡± I said, as calmly as possible, ¡°what did we say about fireballs in the house?¡±


    I bolted toward the back of the cave where most of our water was stored, grabbed a bucket, and sprinted back to the burning sofa. Without wasting a second, I dumped the water over the flames.


    It sizzled, but didn¡¯t go out completely.


    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered, running back for another bucket. I repeated the process¡ªgrab water, douse flames, repeat¡ªuntil the fire was finally out, leaving the sofa a charred, soggy mess.


    I glanced over at Leon, who was still peacefully sucking his pacifier, completely unbothered.


    ¡°Rinse and repeat,¡± I sighed for the nth time.


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    Probably another piece of furniture would catch fire tomorrow, and I¡¯d have to do this all over again. I sighed a lot this days. Sigh¡­ I stared at the now-soggy sofa. How was I supposed to teach an infant self-control? Especially one with the power to conjure fireballs.


    What would happen if Leon accidentally burned down the cave? He¡¯d probably be fine¡ªhunter genes and all¡ªbut what about our essentials? All the food, the tools, the milk... I shuddered at the thought.


    I glanced at Leon, remembering how fast he was growing. At ten months, he¡¯d already learned to walk. Now? He could run, climb, and jump like some kind of wild animal. As if to prove it, he dashed over to me, grabbing onto my leg and climbing up like a cat scaling a tree. Before I knew it, he was perched on my shoulders, babbling away.


    Carefully, I pried him off and placed him in the makeshift crib, though I knew it wouldn¡¯t hold him for long. He¡¯d be out in no time.


    I was worried, though. Leon barely spoke. Sure, he was physically advanced for his age, but verbally? Not so much. I talked to him every day, repeating words, hoping he¡¯d pick up at least one. But nothing. Was something wrong with his brain? Shouldn¡¯t he have picked up at least a few words by now?


    Leon stared at me from his crib, eyes wide and pitiful, like he wanted something but couldn¡¯t quite say what. ¡°Bla-bla-bluba~!¡± he babbled.


    Well, at least he could manage some baby talk. That was progress, right?


    ¡°Guess my boy¡¯s not exactly a genius,¡± I muttered, smirking to myself. ¡°Must¡¯ve gotten that from his mom.¡±


    Grabbing a stick, I shaved down the sides of the top and started chewing on it. An ancient method of cleaning teeth, but hey, caveman life didn¡¯t exactly come with a dental plan. This was about as good as it was going to get.


    As I gnawed on the stick, I glanced back at Leon, who was now content with his babbling. Life in a cave might have been rough, but at least we were surviving... for now.


    I played with Leon, lifting him into the air and swinging him around. He squealed with laughter, his little hands flailing. ¡°Who¡¯s the strongest of them all? You!¡± I grinned, bouncing him up again.


    ¡°Baba~! Ba!¡± he babbled, clearly enjoying the ride.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, who¡¯s the most handsome of them all? That¡¯s right, you are!¡±


    I smiled, noticing the small strands of black hair growing in on his head. He¡¯d definitely inherited my hair¡ªhopefully not my hairline. But those brilliant blue eyes? All his mom. He was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up.


    As the sun began to set, it started to feel like nighttime was creeping in. That¡¯s when Leon¡¯s mood took a turn. He started throwing a tantrum, fussing and wriggling in my arms.


    ¡°Alright, alright¡­ What¡¯s the problem?¡± I sighed. It was either a dirty diaper or he was hungry. And given our history, it was probably both.


    I checked for any signs of doo-doo, but thankfully, there was none. Dodged that bullet.


    Next, I moved on to the milk routine. I boiled some water, then carefully poured it into a bottle. After that, I added the milk formula, gave it a good shake, and let it cool off for a moment. Once it was at a reasonable temperature, I started feeding Leon.


    He calmed down immediately, happily sucking on the bottle.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, kiddo¡­ you¡¯ll be fine,¡± I murmured, watching him settle. He seemed content for now, and I could only hope that I was doing enough to keep things going for the both of us.


    After I babied Leon for a bit, he finally drifted off to sleep. Carefully, I laid him down in the crib and grabbed a small package wrapped in foil before slipping out of the cave. Climbing up a tree, I found my usual spot¡ªthe one where I could actually get a signal.


    I unwrapped the foil, turned on the phones one by one, and started browsing through emails and the internet. It was a good thing I¡¯d bought new SIM cards recently, so I could burn through the data without worrying about leaving a trail. Waste not, want not, right?


    After tweaking a few settings and hopping between proxies, I started sifting through the latest intel on the hunter world. As a ¡®mundane¡¯ person, finding traces of their activities was a challenge, but I¡¯d managed.


    The Hunter¡¯s Net was a treasure trove. It facilitated all things hunter-related¡ªblack market deals, forum news, profiles of active hunters, you name it. For the past two years, I¡¯d been working as an information broker, using my knowledge of the novel as leverage. My ¡°products¡± were tips and insights only someone like me¡ªwho had literally written the world¡ªcould offer.


    The payment? Favors or information. No cash. I wasn¡¯t about to leave a paper trail, and getting online from the top of a tree was risky enough without adding financial transactions into the mix.

 3 The Art of Information

    Working as an information broker over the past two years, I¡¯d slowly built up my reputation under the codename The Author¡ªa bit presumptuous, I¡¯ll admit, but in the hunter world, theatrics meant everything. A dramatic name carried weight, and it helped me stand out. Finally, I landed a big client.


    Diamond_Black: Do you have information on how to hunt Devils?


    I paused. Diamond Black¡ªone of the key characters from my novel. An occult hunter obsessed with hunting down anything supernatural, especially Devils. I¡¯d always considered him more of a villain, though in a world like this, the lines between good and evil were blurry at best.


    Author_Thirteen: Who recommended you?


    I signed the message with my current alias, Thirteen, because, well, it was my thirteenth account. In this business, you had to stay fluid, always ready to burn an identity and start fresh.


    I had a strict policy¡ªI''d only take on clients if they came through a trusted recommendation or if they agreed to pay me double, whether in favors or information. Some people were desperate enough to meet those terms, even if they came out on the losing end. But I had no patience for time-wasters or shady deals. This was my safety net, after all.


    Diamond_Black: No one recommended me.


    I frowned. That was already a red flag. Still, I wasn¡¯t about to turn away a big client just because they came in cold.


    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 watched the screen, waiting. A few seconds passed before the response 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 out-negotiate me. How did I ensure clients always paid up? Easy¡ªI never gave them the full picture upfront. Keep them hungry, desperate for the other half. It worked every time.


    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 hit send and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. There was always risk in this game, but that was the nature of the business. And if anyone tried to double-cross me? Well, I still had more cards to play.


    Diamond_Black: Deal. What¡¯s the favor?


    I cracked my knuckles, thinking of the best way to handle this. Time to bring my wife back into the fold, even if indirectly.


    Author_Thirteen: With the kind of information you want, the price will be three favors.


    Diamond_Black: Fine.


    I almost felt his ¡®Fine¡¯ being reluctant and begrudging. That made me smile.


    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." 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 for his reply, already imagining Leora¡¯s reaction to the message. She¡¯d recognize it instantly¡ªit was our old inside joke, back when things were simpler.


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    Diamond_Black: Deal. Now, what¡¯s the first half of the information?


    I smirked, knowing I had him hooked now.


    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¡ªjust enough bait to keep him interested and reliant on me. Now, I just needed him to fulfill that first favor. The sooner I could get Leora back in my life, the better.


    I waited a few more minutes, staring at the screen, but Diamond_Black didn¡¯t reply. Either he was already on his way to fulfill the favor, or he¡¯d ghosted me. I wouldn¡¯t know until I heard back from Leora. The uncertainty made me tap my fingers against the tree bark.


    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.


    I exhaled slowly, my pulse quickening. Aura¡­ It was something I had written about in my novel, but seeing it in action these past few years made me realize how vast the gap was between fiction and reality. I¡¯d always known aura could be awakened under certain conditions, but I never knew the exact methods that would work on someone like me¡ªmundane, powerless in a world that constantly reminded me of it.


    I skimmed through the message. There weren¡¯t any complex diagrams, just detailed steps on how to forcefully awaken aura within a person. The instructions were... brutal, to say the least. Pain, trauma, and near-death experiences were key ingredients. My stomach churned at the thought, but if this world had taught me anything, it was that survival didn¡¯t come without sacrifice.


    I leaned back against the tree, staring at the sky. Could I really do it? Put myself through hell just for a shot at becoming something more than prey in this hunter¡¯s world?


    "Well," I muttered to myself, "It¡¯s either that or wait to get killed when the favors run out."


    KZ_1_2. The naming system was all too familiar¡ªthis account had to be a guild-issued one or something similar. The "1_2" part meant this guy was a low-level grunt in some organization. Probably just another cog in the machine, trying to make a quick deal.


    But I needed this information to be accurate. If I was going to risk my life to awaken aura, I couldn¡¯t afford false steps or half-baked intel.


    I quickly typed a response.


    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 at my beck and call¡ªfar from it. But in this world, perception was everything. Fear had a way of making people more truthful than they intended to be. And if KZ_1_2 knew what was good for him, he¡¯d make sure his intel was as solid as he could get it.


    I waited for a response, but none came. Hopefully, that meant the message had the intended effect.


    Now, I had some serious thinking to do. The steps to awakening aura weren¡¯t for the faint of heart. Brutal methods, near-death experiences¡­ It was like asking for an early grave. But if I wanted to protect myself and Leon, I needed every edge I could get.


    I looked down at the message one more time, a knot forming in my stomach. This was it. Do or die.


    I sighed, pocketing the phone. "Well, I asked for it."


    I received a sudden ping from KZ_1_2.


    I retrieved my phone.


    Attached to the email were corresponding testimonials about the aura awakening process using the short-cut method. The organization KZ_1_2 belonged to used a nightmare-inducing aura ability, and the steps they outlined seemed legit. It was familiar¡ªone of those underground groups I¡¯d written about, known for messing with people¡¯s minds. The process was supposed to push you to the brink, forcing your aura to awaken under extreme mental stress.


    The problem was, I had no access to such a convenient ability or anyone I trusted enough to run nightmare scenarios on me. Not to mention, I wasn¡¯t exactly keen on experiencing horrific visions, especially with Leon around. Last thing I needed was to go insane from some botched aura awakening while my kid set the rest of the cave on fire.


    KZ_1_2: I hope we are quits, man¡­ No need to send assassins on me¡­


    I grinned. The guy was sweating bullets. My bluff worked.


    Author_Five: I will inform you after we¡¯ve determined the accuracy of the information you''ve provided.


    Using "we" was part of the act, of course. I had no organization, no team, and no backup. But making people believe I did created a nice veil of mystique around me. After all, the less people knew, the more powerful they thought you were. It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d pulled this stunt, and I had to admit, it worked like a charm.


    I leaned back on the tree branch. So now, what were my options? Wait for someone to hand me a nightmare-inducing ability on a silver platter? Or risk it and try something more... primitive?


    Either way, I knew one thing for sure. I was running out of time.

 4 The Cost of Power

    I woke up to Leon¡¯s crying, the sound piercing through the stillness of the cave. Groggy, I glanced at the clock. 3 a.m. Great. It was still the dead of night. I dragged myself up and went over to his makeshift crib. ¡°Alright, alright, calm down, buddy,¡± I muttered as I scooped him up, rocking him gently until his cries softened into sleepy murmurs.


    Once he was back asleep, I stretched, trying to shake off the fatigue. Might as well make use of the time, right? I did some quick warm-up exercises¡ªcouldn¡¯t let myself get rusty. Then, I headed to the water system I rigged up, filling a barrel with drinkable water. It took longer than I¡¯d like, but having a good supply ready was essential. I wasn¡¯t planning to carry buckets every day.


    After that, I prepped a bottle of warm milk for Leon, so it¡¯d be ready for when he woke up again. The moment the last of my chores were done, exhaustion hit me hard. I barely made it back to my bed before I collapsed, and before I knew it, I was out cold again.


    Not sure how much longer I could keep up this routine.


    I knew I had to return to civilization at some point. The sooner, the better. However, with my great lack of power, that would be quite difficult. I couldn¡¯t really sleep, despite the long, exhausting days I¡¯d been enduring. I tried to close my eyes, but I found myself turning on the cold, hard boulder I called a bed, the chill of the night air cutting through my cloak.


    Frustrated, I stood up. It was seven o¡¯clock, and the sky was still that deep shade of purple, caught between night and dawn. I glanced at Leon, sprawled out beside the smoldering remains of last night¡¯s fire, completely oblivious to the world.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t burn the cave while I¡¯m gone,¡± I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him. ¡°I¡¯ll only be gone for a few minutes.¡±


    I descended the mountain, carefully navigating the loose rocks and overgrown shrubs until I reached the foot. There, as promised, Aunt Marie was waiting, just as she had been every month since our little arrangement began. She stood with her arms crossed, her weathered face looking even more tired than usual. My arrangement with her was purely business. She bought me supplies, and I paid her. It wasn¡¯t a charitable act, and I didn¡¯t want it to be. The fact that her only family was her sick niece didn¡¯t soften the practicality of our deal. I made sure it stayed that way¡ªfor her sake.


    As I approached, she handed me a plastic bag, her eyes narrowing as she glanced inside.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always taken it upon myself to never pry into your past or question your actions, but this one¡¯s too much,¡± she said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Ginseng? Mushrooms? Herbs? Ash dirt? Dung beetle? A mortar and pestle? A Bunsen burner?!¡±


    I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly. Yeah, I¡¯d really burnt through my funds on this one. The odd ingredients, the tools¡ªeverything had a purpose, though explaining that to her would just complicate things.


    Without a word, I handed her a plastic bag stuffed with cash. It was enough to cover the supplies and then some. She stared at the money for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn¡¯t say anything as she took it.


    "I¡¯m not making soup," I muttered, half-joking, trying to lighten the mood.


    She gave me a dry smile but didn¡¯t say anything further. I appreciated that. Marie was reliable, and while she never asked too many questions, I could tell she was wondering what a man like me was doing in the mountains, buying up weird things like dung beetles and ginseng.


    ¡°You be careful up there,¡± she said as I took the bag of supplies from her. ¡°This world¡¯s a lot scarier than it used to be.¡±


    I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, though her words hit harder than she probably realized. The hunter world wasn¡¯t just scary¡ªit was deadly, and I was caught between both that and the mundane life I¡¯d once known.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I replied, though the confidence in my voice sounded hollow, even to me.


    Marie glanced up toward the mountain. ¡°And the boy?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s tough,¡± I said, a bit more sure of myself this time. Leon, despite everything, was stronger than he looked. He had to be, growing up in a place like this. But still¡­ I couldn¡¯t shake the worry in the back of my mind.


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    We exchanged brief goodbyes, and I started the climb back up the mountain, the plastic bag of oddities rustling in my hand. The truth was, I wasn¡¯t even sure if half the stuff I asked for would work. But I had to try. Awakening aura was my only real shot at keeping us safe¡ªif any of this worked.


    By the time I reached the cave, Leon was still fast asleep, much to my relief. No fires, no wrecked furniture this time. I placed the bag down and eyed the contents. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, and the rest of it. It all looked like ingredients for some ancient ritual, not something I¡¯d ever pictured myself dealing with.


    I sat down and took a deep breath. I couldn¡¯t stay in hiding forever. Sooner or later, the world would catch up with us. I needed power¡­ but I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready for what came next.


    Still, I had no choice.


    I laid out the ingredients on the flat rock I¡¯d designated as my worktable. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, dung beetles¡ªit all seemed ridiculous. But 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 had been fooled. If it worked for him, it could work for me.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t a surefire method to awaken aura though¡­¡±


    The process to make the potion was intricate, and while I wasn¡¯t some alchemist or herbalist, I knew enough from the novel to piece together how it should go. The idea was simple¡ªslow the body¡¯s vital signs to the point where I¡¯d appear dead, even to someone who could sense aura. The tricky part was doing it without actually killing myself in the process.


    I glanced over at Leon, still peacefully asleep in his crib. My chest tightened with a mix of anxiety and determination. I needed this to 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. Or at least buy time until Leon could grow stronger.


    I started grinding the ingredients together with the mortar and pestle, breaking down the ginseng roots and beetles into a fine paste. The smell was earthy, bitter, and unpleasant, but I pushed through it. Each step had to be exact¡ªtoo much of one ingredient, and I could end up actually dead. Too little, and the effects would be too weak to fool anyone.


    As I added the mushrooms, I couldn¡¯t help but think of how absurd this all was. Here I was, a guy who once had a regular life, grinding up beetles and herbs in a cave to brew a fake-death potion to awaken aura. If I didn¡¯t have a child to protect, I¡¯d almost laugh at how surreal it all felt.


    Once the mixture was ready, I set it aside and pulled out the Bunsen burner Marie had gotten for me. It was a crude setup, but it would do. I carefully heated the concoction, stirring it slowly, waiting for the right consistency. The liquid began to bubble slightly, a deep, dark color forming. This was it¡ªthe moment of truth.


    As I let the potion cool, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Was this really going to work? There was no room for error. If I took this and it didn¡¯t work the way I planned, I could be putting Leon at even greater risk.


    I glanced back at him again. No turning back now.


    Once the potion had cooled enough, I poured it into a small vial and held it up to the dim light filtering into the cave. It looked ominous, but then again, it was supposed to.


    I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. I wasn¡¯t sure how long the effects would last or how convincing they¡¯d be, but I had to try. For Leon¡¯s sake, for my own, this was the best shot I had.


    I took a sip, the bitter liquid burning down my throat.


    Now, all I could do was wait.


    I felt dizzy. My head spun as I tried to focus on the cliff''s edge in front of me, the rocky drop beneath casting an intimidating shadow over my thoughts. My heart raced, and doubt clawed at the edges of my mind. I told myself it wouldn¡¯t work¡ªthe concoction I¡¯d taken was designed to fake death, not reenact it. There was no real danger. At least, that¡¯s what I kept reminding myself.


    But the testimonials I¡¯d read said otherwise. Every account I¡¯d come across mentioned something visceral, something real about the experience. None of them were told what to expect, yet all of them had come back changed, awakened in some way. One conclusion was undeniable¡ªdanger was a crucial ingredient for unlocking aura.


    I took another unsteady breath, fighting the dizziness as I climbed higher, my eyes scanning the cliff. My contingencies were in place if this went sideways¡ªwho would take care of Leon, how Leora would be informed, and the rest. I¡¯d made sure of that, and because of it, I could afford to be reckless.


    Still, 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? It had a hidden healing factor, yes, but it would only activate if my heart stopped beating. That¡¯s the risk¡ªif it stopped.


    I took one last deep breath, steadying my nerves. Everyone was afraid of death. Why wouldn¡¯t I be? But fear was exactly what I needed now, wasn¡¯t it? Fear would push me over the edge¡ªliterally and figuratively. If I was right, there was no way I wouldn¡¯t awaken my aura after this.


    Of course, lingering doubts remained, lurking at the back of my mind like dark shadows.


    I pushed them aside.


    And I jumped.


    The wind rushed up to meet me, cold and biting, tugging at my clothes, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, I felt weightless, suspended in midair. The ground below grew closer, faster than I expected, and that split second stretched into an eternity.


    Then, impact.

 5 Beyond the Fall

    I groaned, pulling myself into a sitting position. My body felt heavy, like I¡¯d been hit by a truck, but strangely, I was fine¡ªno broken bones, no gashes or bruises, just pain. A lot of pain. I tried to remember the fall, the impact, but everything after that moment was a blur. Maybe that was a good sign? If I had really died, I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here.


    I glanced down at my hands, flexing my fingers, searching for some kind of indication that my aura had awakened. But there was nothing. No glow, no surge of power, no sign that I was any different from before. I wasn¡¯t sure what I had expected, but I definitely thought there¡¯d be something.


    ¡°Come on¡­¡± I muttered, getting to my feet. The dizziness from earlier had faded, replaced by a dull ache in my head. My body felt sluggish, like I¡¯d run a marathon, but I was alive, and that was the important part.


    I checked my watch again. Five minutes. That¡¯s all it had taken. Either the concoction had worked, or I¡¯d just survived a fall that should¡¯ve killed me through sheer dumb luck.


    I needed answers. Staggering toward the edge of the cliff, I peered down, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The drop was brutal, easily enough to kill anyone. There was no way I should¡¯ve walked away from that.


    ¡°Okay¡­ so now what?¡±


    I closed my eyes, concentrating, trying to sense any changes in my body. I focused inward, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat felt different. The testimonials had all talked about how awakening aura wasn¡¯t just about the physical change; it was something deeper. I tried to reach out, to feel for whatever that was.


    At first, nothing. Just the usual dull thrum of my pulse, the lingering adrenaline from the fall. But then, just as I was about to give up, I felt a flicker¡ªa tiny spark deep in my chest, like a match being struck in the dark. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there.


    I concentrated harder, focusing on that flicker, trying to coax it into something more. Slowly, it grew, like a small flame being fanned, spreading warmth through my chest and down into my limbs. The pain began to recede, replaced by a strange sense of lightness, as if I was no longer bound by the same physical limits.


    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± I whispered.


    This was it. The awakening. The aura.


    But as the warmth spread, I realized something else¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just any aura. This was something¡­ different. Something more volatile. I felt a surge of energy, but it wasn¡¯t stable, it wasn¡¯t controlled. It pulsed erratically, like a live wire sparking dangerously inside me. My heart raced as I struggled to keep it in check.


    I stumbled backward, my breath coming in ragged gasps. This was more than I had bargained for. The concoction had worked¡ªtoo well, maybe. The energy inside me felt raw, untamed, and I had no idea how to harness it.


    ¡°Okay¡­ calm down, Reynard. You¡¯ve got this.¡±


    I needed to figure out how to control it. Otherwise, I was just a walking time bomb.


    I took a deep breath, feeling the heat simmering in my chest. It wasn¡¯t painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable, like a furnace just under my skin. I ran a hand over my sternum, half-expecting to feel something burning through, but everything seemed normal on the surface.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°This must be a side effect of awakening aura too quickly.¡±


    I¡¯d read that without a proper guide or controlled awakening, there could be unpredictable results. That was fine, though. I¡¯d expected it. The important thing now was figuring out my affinity¡ªwhat type of aura I had. There were Seven methods, or ¡°states,¡± for using aura: Fighter, Seeker, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader. Each one represented a different style of combat or interaction with the world, and each came with its own unique abilities.


    The trick was figuring out which one I¡¯d fallen into.


    ¡°I feel healthier already, though¡­¡± I muttered, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. ¡°Still feel hot in my chest.¡±


    I stretched, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort, and as I did, I noticed something strange¡ªmy body moved with more fluidity than before. My muscles responded quicker, more effortlessly. It was like the usual resistance I felt with every movement had been dialed down.


    Interesting.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Fighter auras typically enhanced physical strength and durability. Maybe that¡¯s what I¡¯d awakened? But there was more to this than just physical enhancements. There was that heat in my chest, that surging energy¡­ I needed to test this further.


    I turned toward a nearby boulder and clenched my fist, focusing on that flicker of energy in my chest. I imagined pushing it down into my arm, letting it build up like pressure in a valve.


    With a sharp exhale, I threw a punch.


    The boulder cracked, a fine spiderweb of lines spreading from the point of impact. I stepped back, wide-eyed.


    ¡°Okay¡­ not bad.¡±


    But there was no stability. I felt that raw, volatile energy pulse again, out of my control. It was like holding onto a live wire, and every time I tried to focus, it threatened to break loose.


    I needed to figure out how to channel it properly. Without control, I¡¯d be more of a hazard than anything else.


    ¡°Alright¡­ what¡¯s next?¡± I muttered. I¡¯d need to experiment with the Seven States, see which one aligned best with the aura coursing through me.


    But first, I needed to cool down. Literally. 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.


    I took a light bath by the river stream.


    I wondered what kind of ability I manifested.  I was fairly certain it had manifested already, considering I had no injuries despite the fall. The punch I performed earlier couldn¡¯t be a byproduct of a fighter-type aura¡­ because it wasn¡¯t proportional to the amount I had.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about aura, but I have an inkling of suspicion that I am starting with a lot more than the average starters.¡±


    I reviewed my knowledge of the Seven Methods¡ª


    As I sat by the river, letting the cool water flow over me, I mulled over the Seven Methods. If I was going to understand this new power, I had to start with the basics¡ªwhat each state could offer and how it aligned with the aura flowing through me.


    The Seven Methods were essentially the Seven ways one could channel aura, each corresponding to a particular affinity. They shaped how aura manifested in individuals, and each came with its own strengths, weaknesses, and special abilities. I mentally reviewed them as the water cooled the lingering heat in my chest.


    Fighter¡ªThis was the most straightforward of the bunch. Fighters used aura to enhance their physical capabilities: strength, speed, durability, endurance. Think of them as living, breathing battering rams. But it wasn¡¯t just about brute force. With enough control, Fighters could perform extraordinary feats of combat precision, becoming nearly invincible in hand-to-hand combat. They could take hits that would kill an ordinary person, and dish out blows that could shatter boulders. While the punch I threw earlier seemed like it could fall into this category, something felt off. It was too... sharp.


    Seeker¡ªSeekers were attuned to tracking, perception, and awareness. Their aura enhanced their senses, allowing them to see, hear, and feel things others couldn¡¯t. Some Seekers could even detect the aura of others or foresee danger before it arrived. Seekers were often used in reconnaissance or as scouts, always one step ahead of their enemies. I didn¡¯t think this fit me, though. I hadn¡¯t felt any heightened senses since awakening¡ªno sudden clarity or hyper-awareness. Just the heat.


    Dealer¡ªThis was an interesting one. Dealers were aura manipulators, capable of transferring or controlling aura in others. They could drain, augment, or share their aura with teammates, making them incredibly valuable in group settings. Dealers often worked in support roles, ensuring their allies were always powered up. Their abilities would often require certain ¡®conditions¡¯ being met before activating. I doubted this was my ability either. No strange feedback from the aura around me, no sense of connection to others. Besides, I was more of a solo act.


    Trickster¡ªNow, this was the wildcard. Tricksters used aura in unconventional ways, often manifesting illusions, misdirection, or reality-bending abilities. They were sneaky, using their aura to deceive or confuse enemies. I couldn¡¯t completely rule this one out. Tricksters¡¯ abilities often manifested in unpredictable ways, so I¡¯d need more time to figure out if my aura leaned in that direction. But still, the raw power I felt didn¡¯t scream ¡°subtle.¡±


    Caster¡ªThis was the most mystical of the Methods. Casters used aura to wield elemental or magical abilities. Fire, ice, lightning¡ªthese were the kinds of powers Casters controlled. Some could conjure storms or manipulate natural forces to devastating effect. Given the heat I¡¯d been feeling, this was a possibility. Maybe I was manifesting something fire-related? I hadn¡¯t seen any flames, but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t there, simmering under the surface.


    Maker¡ªMakers used aura to craft, repair, or enhance objects. They could imbue weapons, armor, or tools with aura, turning ordinary items into extraordinary ones. Some Makers could even forge entire constructs out of pure aura energy. This was another intriguing possibility. The punch I¡¯d delivered to the boulder earlier might¡¯ve been a form of aura manipulation I wasn¡¯t aware of¡ªlike shaping the energy into something more precise. I¡¯d need to test this further.


    Lastly, there was the Reader¡ªthe rarest of the Methods. Readers could delve into the minds, memories, and emotions of others. They used their aura to read the very essence of people, making them powerful manipulators of information and influence. I¡¯d heard of some Readers who could even predict actions before they happened. I didn¡¯t think this was me, though. I wasn¡¯t feeling anyone¡¯s thoughts, no sudden insight into the minds of others.


    I leaned back against the rocks, closing my eyes, the cool water trickling down my skin.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, ¡°so what am I?¡±


    I felt different, stronger, but the heat in my chest was still a mystery. I wasn¡¯t any closer to figuring out what had actually awakened inside me. But one thing was clear¡ªwhatever this power was, it wasn¡¯t typical. There was too much raw energy, too much potential. I¡¯d need to experiment, push myself further, and see what this new power could really do.


    For now, though, I¡¯d just have to take it one step at a time.

 6 Soul Link

    When I stepped back into the cave, the heat that had been simmering in my chest suddenly vanished. It was like a fire had gone out, leaving only cool embers in its place. I frowned, confused. Something had changed, but I wasn¡¯t sure what.


    That¡¯s when I remembered a basic Seeker technique¡ªa way to channel aura into your eyes to enhance perception. Maybe that would help me figure out what had just happened. I focused, letting the aura pool behind my eyes, and then I saw it: a faint, warm stream of energy flowing from me to Leon, who was still sleeping soundly in his crib.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­ how do you classify this?¡± I murmured to myself, watching the aura. It wasn¡¯t like anything I¡¯d ever written about in the novel. This wasn¡¯t a simple transference or enhancement. It felt¡­ symbiotic. A skill copier? A skill taker?


    Leon¡¯s aura was the key¡ªit must¡¯ve been his aura that saved me from the fall, not mine. My own aura had adapted, had latched onto his, drawing from his strength to keep me alive. I knelt beside the crib, examining the boy¡¯s aura carefully with my Seeker-enhanced eyes.


    His was pure, untapped, still developing, but it had somehow protected me.


    ¡°My aura could adapt the aura of others¡­¡± I muttered, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. ¡°It seems I¡¯m a Dealer¡­ but I function in the opposite direction.¡±


    Dealers traditionally transferred or enhanced the aura of others, but mine seemed to work in reverse. It was like I could borrow aura from those around me, using it to fuel my own abilities. The realization hit me hard¡ªmy power wasn¡¯t self-sustaining. It relied on the aura of others. A conditional power, just like all Dealers had, but mine came with a twist.


    ¡°The ¡®others¡¯ support me instead,¡± I mused. That explained the heat in my chest earlier¡ªit wasn¡¯t just my aura; it had been Leon¡¯s, sustaining me after my fall.


    I stood up, rubbing the back of my neck, deep in thought. This was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it meant I could draw on the strength of those around me. On the other hand, I was dependent on that strength. Without someone close by, I¡¯d be vulnerable.


    Testing the limits of this ability would be tricky. I couldn¡¯t exactly drain Leon dry, and I didn¡¯t have anyone else to experiment with at the moment. But this revelation was huge. It meant I wasn¡¯t starting from scratch¡ªLeon¡¯s aura had already saved me once, which meant I could survive if I learned to control this power better.


    Now, I just had to figure out how to balance it, how to draw in aura without putting anyone in danger, especially Leon. I couldn¡¯t afford to make a mistake. Not now.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said softly, looking down at the boy. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re my little guardian, huh?¡±


    He stirred slightly in his sleep, as if responding, and a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.


    This was going to be a long road, but at least I wasn¡¯t alone in it.


    I¡¯d need to learn more, test the boundaries of this strange power I had, and figure out how to survive in a world where danger lurked at every corner.


    Auras have attributes, which influenced how the abilities acted.


    Leon was clearly a Caster with heat, fire, and life attributes. In the future, he¡¯d only continue to grow, derive more attributes, and strengthen his special abilities.


    My wife, Leora¡­ I wondered what her attributes were. I was fairly certain she was a Fighter after what I¡¯d seen since I last saw her, but I could be wrong.


    I stared at myself in the mirror, absently stroking the thick beard that had grown out during my time in the cave. It wasn¡¯t the worst look I¡¯d ever had, but it was a sign of how much I¡¯d let myself go. I promised myself I¡¯d shave once I had a solid handle on my aura and learned more about its attributes. That seemed like a good milestone¡ªwhen I was no longer fumbling around with this weird ability of mine.


    I focused on my eyes again, enhancing my vision with aura. The reflection of my aura in the mirror was strange¡ªbarely there, like a faint outline that was nearly imperceptible. I tried to rouse it, but it seemed this was just how my original aura functioned and looked like, subtle and quiet. That explained why I hadn¡¯t noticed much before. My aura wasn¡¯t weak; it was just subdued by nature.


    ¡°Hah¡­ So Leon really has more aura than me, huh?¡± I muttered to myself, thinking back to how I¡¯d borrowed his aura to survive the fall. The realization hit me hard¡ªmy survival wasn¡¯t thanks to some hidden reservoir of power in me. No, it was Leon¡¯s aura, and specifically his life attribute, that had saved me. I was basically piggybacking off my own kid¡¯s power.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Over the next few days, I ran a series of experiments. I¡¯d borrow Leon¡¯s aura, use it for a while, and then give it back. The process was exhausting, but each time I learned something new about my ability. I started writing down what I discovered to keep track:


    <ol>


    <li>Aura Borrowing and Attribute Stealing: When I borrowed someone¡¯s aura, I could also steal a single attribute from it. This explained why I didn¡¯t die when I jumped off the cliff¡ªI had unknowingly taken Leon¡¯s life attribute, which gave me a temporary healing factor. It was a powerful survival tool, but it only worked as long as I had the borrowed aura.</li>


    <li>Aura Diminishment: When I returned the borrowed aura, it didn¡¯t go back in full. It was diminished, proportional to how much of it I¡¯d used. Interestingly, even in its weakened state, the returned aura could still be controlled to a degree. I realized this could be used strategically¡ªif I borrowed someone¡¯s aura and returned it while they were in a critical moment, I could sabotage them without them even realizing it.</li>


    <li>Multiple Targets: I also discovered that I could borrow aura from multiple individuals at once. I tested this with a squirrel and Leon, linking their auras together. The result was hilarious and terrifying¡ªthe squirrel started throwing tiny fireballs. Thankfully, I could make it so another link couldn¡¯t borrow an attribute and only I could. However, maintaining that connection was draining. My focus had to be razor-sharp, and the more targets I linked, the more my mind felt like it was being stretched to its limits. While effective, this method wasn¡¯t sustainable for long periods.</li>


    <li>Perception-Based Limitation: Perhaps the biggest limitation was that my ability wouldn¡¯t activate unless the target could perceive me. I had to touch them for the effect to kick in, meaning I couldn¡¯t just steal someone¡¯s aura from afar. This was a major weakness, one I¡¯d need to keep hidden from anyone who might try to exploit it. On top of that, using the ability too much drained my mental energy fast, leaving me fatigued and vulnerable.</li>


    </ol>


    After jotting down these insights, I sat back and considered my next steps. My ability was powerful, but it had serious limitations. The mental strain, the reliance on proximity and touch, the risk of exposing my weakness¡ªthese were all things I needed to address if I wanted to survive in the Hunter world.


    For now, though, I¡¯d keep refining my control over the aura I borrowed. There was potential here, and the more I tested it, the closer I got to unlocking its full potential.


    Dealer-type special abilities were unnecessarily complicated, but that was just the nature of them. My ability, the one that allowed me to borrow and share aura, had a myriad of conditions and variables. It would take time to fully master. Despite that, I realized I wasn¡¯t completely locked into just this ability. I was fairly balanced when it came to learning the other Seven States.


    Sure, I couldn¡¯t develop specialized abilities like a full-fledged Fighter or Seeker, but I could still use their basic applications. That was the thing about the Seven States¡ªthey weren¡¯t just about flashy abilities. They were the foundation of how hunters operated, the groundwork for everything.


    In my case, I had to build around my Dealer-type ability. But even the strongest hunters didn¡¯t just rely on their special talents. They honed their skills across all the Seven States, using those techniques to bolster their core power. If I neglected training in the other States, I would be at a disadvantage¡ªno matter how unique my Dealer ability was.


    The basics were crucial.


    ¡°This ability, 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 and borrow their aura, their attributes, even their emotions. It wasn¡¯t flashy, but it was powerful in its own way. With Soul Link, I had the potential to adapt to any situation, depending on who or what I connected with. The trick, though, was learning to use it effectively, mastering the intricacies of each State to complement my ability.


    The Fighter State training left me sore. My aura-enhanced punches lacked real force, but at least I could throw them without completely depleting my energy. It was a start. With Seeker State, I refined my vision, focusing on subtle aura signatures in the environment, testing how far my perception could stretch. I could make out faint traces, like the lingering imprint of Leon¡¯s aura around the cave.


    The Dealer State was where I felt most at home. Each time I borrowed aura from Leon, I focused on efficiency, ensuring I used only what I needed and returned it without wasting any. It was a delicate balance. But it also made me think¡ªif I could connect to other sources, other hunters, what could I do with their abilities? The potential was overwhelming.


    Trickster State was fun, though. I spent hours trying to hide my presence, controlling my aura so it wouldn¡¯t flare up unintentionally. I even practiced sending out fake signals, a faint pulse here and there to confuse anyone who might be tracking me. Not that anyone was, but it was good practice.


    Caster State, though... that was tough. Borrowing Leon¡¯s fire attribute wasn¡¯t sustainable for long periods, but I managed to conjure tiny sparks, which was a huge step for me. I¡¯d have to figure out how to generate other elemental properties in the future.


    As for Maker State, I tried more experiments. Imbuing objects with aura was exhausting, but I saw the potential for creating relays¡ªsmall, temporary tools to extend the reach of my special ability. The rocks I imbued barely held the aura for more than a minute, but if I could perfect it, I could drop aura traps, waiting for someone to step into them.


    The Reader State was the most subtle. I practiced with Leon, noticing the way his aura shifted as he slept. Emotional fluctuations were faint, but I could sense them¡ªpeace, warmth, and sometimes even distress in his dreams. It was a strange feeling, like tuning into a frequency I hadn¡¯t realized existed.


    Despite the progress, I knew I had a long way to go. Mastery wasn¡¯t just about training¡ªit was about experience. And for that, I¡¯d need to face real challenges, real threats. The days of staying hidden in the cave were coming to an end. I couldn¡¯t protect Leon or myself forever from here. I needed to venture out, test myself against the world. The only question was¡­ where to start?

 7 A Mother’s Love

    Leora¡¯s fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, her expression hardening with each click. The familiar glow of the laptop screen illuminated her face in the dim room, casting shadows that flickered like the memories she thought she¡¯d left behind. Years had passed since she last tapped into the Hunter¡¯s Net, the hidden and highly encrypted network used by those in her line of work. She had hoped she¡¯d never need it again.


    But that hope was shattered the moment her home was attacked.


    Leora the Bright. Leora of the Guiding Light. Those were the names they had given her back when she was a well-known hunter, feared for her relentless pursuit of justice and retribution. She had fought to protect the innocent, guided by her moral compass, but the cost was steep. The world of hunters had taken its toll, and when Reynard came into her life, she thought she¡¯d finally escaped its clutches.


    Now, it seemed the past had come back to claim her.


    ¡°Who are they?¡± she muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she sifted through the sparse information she could find. The attack on her family hadn¡¯t been random. It was too calculated, too precise. They knew where to find them. They knew when to strike.


    Her mind raced, thinking back to the countless enemies she had made over the years. Hunters who had been corrupted by power, organizations that thrived on chaos and death, even the rogue entities who used aura for their own twisted purposes. But this group¡­ they were different. Organized, but invisible. She had no memory of ever crossing paths with them before.


    The Hunter¡¯s Net wasn¡¯t giving her much, either. Most of her old contacts were dead, retired, or had disappeared from the scene entirely. The few she managed to reach out to had only vague hints¡ªrumors of a new faction rising in the shadows, targeting former hunters with vendettas from a forgotten past.


    But why her? And why now?


    Leora clenched her fists, her frustration building. Whoever they were, they had nearly taken Reynard and Leon from her. She couldn¡¯t let that go. She wouldn¡¯t let that go.


    Her thoughts turned to Reynard. He had always been more cautious, more calculated, and she knew he wouldn¡¯t be reckless in dealing with this threat. But that wouldn¡¯t be enough. Not now. Not with enemies like these. She needed to protect her family, and for that, she had to step back into the world she had left behind.


    Her fingers paused over the keyboard. She hated what she had to do next, but there was no other choice. One last contact. One last favor. A name from her past that she never thought she¡¯d have to call on again.


    Taking a deep breath, Leora opened an old chat window and typed a single message:


    Leora_Bright: I need information. Meet me where it all started.


    She hit send, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what this request would cost her.


    Her past wasn¡¯t done with her yet. And this time, she wasn¡¯t going to run.


    Leora had always known this world was full of dangerous things and dangerous people. The Forbidden Region teemed with terrifying creatures, but the Claimed Lands weren¡¯t much better. Random spatial tears that connected to the Forbidden Region could appear anywhere, adding unpredictability to an already perilous existence. Yet, even worse than the tears were the hunters.


    What exactly were hunters?


    They were people who sought out and hunted danger. Their reasons varied¡ªsome for glory, others for survival, and many simply for profit¡ªbut hunting had been a part of this world since time immemorial.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to hunt them down,¡± Leora muttered to herself, her voice low and resolute.


    She tied her blonde hair into a ponytail, securing it before sliding her helmet into place. In a practiced motion, she packed up her gear, carefully removed herself from the dingy motel room through the window, and darted through the narrow alleys. The streets were empty, bathed in the cold, indifferent light of the moon.


    Reaching her bike, Leora swung a leg over it and revved the engine, the mechanical growl echoing through the night. Without hesitation, she sped off, her mind focused on the meeting with her contact.


    Leora¡¯s heart pounded as she sped through the darkened streets, her mind racing faster than the bike beneath her. The night air was cool, crisp, and quiet¡ªtoo quiet for her liking. The hum of the engine, the only sound accompanying her thoughts, seemed to drown out the distant echoes of the life she¡¯d left behind. But there was no turning back now. She had made her decision.


    The random spatial tears between the Claimed Lands and the Forbidden Region were becoming more frequent, complicating things. It wasn¡¯t just the dangerous creatures slipping through those tears that worried her. It was the people who were using them as cover¡ªhunters or worse. The same people who had come for her family.


    Leora leaned into a sharp turn, her eyes scanning the dark alleys as she approached the meeting point. It had been years since she had reached out to any of her old contacts, and the risk of walking into a trap wasn¡¯t lost on her. But there were few people left she could trust, and even fewer who would have the kind of information she needed.


    She arrived at a rundown warehouse on the outskirts of the city, the perfect meeting spot for someone who preferred to stay in the shadows. She parked her bike in a hidden corner, cutting the engine and slipping silently into the alley beside the building.


    It didn¡¯t take long before she spotted him¡ªan older man with a rugged face, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He stood under a flickering streetlight, the soft glow illuminating the deep lines on his face.


    ¡°Leora,¡± he said, exhaling smoke as he caught sight of her. His eyes, sharp and knowing, hadn¡¯t changed since the last time she¡¯d seen him.


    ¡°Stefan,¡± she replied, stepping out from the shadows.


    The two of them stood in silence for a moment, sizing each other up like old rivals who¡¯d somehow become allies. She had called in a favor, and Stefan wasn¡¯t the kind to let something like that go lightly.


    ¡°You¡¯re in trouble,¡± Stefan said, flicking his cigarette to the ground. ¡°What¡¯s it this time?¡±


    Leora didn¡¯t waste time with pleasantries. ¡°Someone attacked my family. I need to know who they are.¡±


    Stefan raised an eyebrow, but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°You¡¯ve got some serious enemies, Bright. Always did.¡±


    ¡°I need information,¡± she pressed. ¡°Now.¡±


    He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can dig up. But I can tell you this much¡ªwhoever came after you, they aren¡¯t amateurs. You¡¯re dealing with professionals. They¡¯ve been hitting hunters all over the place, picking them off one by one.¡±


    Leora¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡±


    Stefan chuckled darkly.


    ¡°You always did have a death wish. Be careful, Leora. This isn¡¯t the same world we used to hunt in. Talks about expeditions on the Forbidden Region is on the rise and as someone who belonged to the last generation, I can tell you with confidence¡­ they¡¯d fail and then a calamity will then befall us.¡±


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    Stefan¡¯s chuckle faded, leaving a heavy silence between them as his warning hung in the air.


    Leora¡¯s jaw tightened, but her face remained composed, hiding the storm that brewed inside her. The mention of the Forbidden Region brought back memories¡ªterrifying stories of past expeditions that ended in disaster. She knew well enough that it was a place of unfathomable danger. Hunters went in with bravado, only to return broken, if they returned at all.


    But she wasn¡¯t here to entertain old ghost stories.


    ¡°It¡¯s irrelevant to me,¡± she said, her voice cool.


    Stefan¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Your husband is a mundane, correct?¡±


    The silence that followed was louder than any answer she could¡¯ve given. Stefan knew exactly what button to press. He always had.


    ¡°Then it is relevant to you,¡± he continued, his voice dropping an octave. ¡°Last time they failed, they brought something back. A plague. The kind that tore through the cities like wildfire. Do you know how many bodies were buried the week after? Enough to build a mountain, Leora.¡±


    She¡¯d heard about the plague. Everyone had. The devastation it wrought had become legend, a grim reminder of the consequences of tampering with the Forbidden Region. But no amount of warnings could change her mind. Not this time. Not when they had threatened her family.


    Stefan took a step closer, his gaze hard but not unkind. ¡°Take it as advice from an old friend, Bright. Go home. Be there for your husband while you still can. You know how fragile mundanes are.¡±


    Leora clenched her fists, biting back the surge of anger that threatened to escape. She didn¡¯t need this lecture. She didn¡¯t need to be reminded of how vulnerable Reynard was, or how easy it would be for someone to take everything away from her. She lived with that knowledge every day.


    But Stefan¡¯s words had struck a nerve. As much as she hated to admit it, there was truth in what he said. The world beyond their doorstep was changing, and not for the better. The Forbidden Region was a ticking time bomb, and the next expedition could very well bring about another calamity. One that would reach even the most sheltered of mundanes.


    Still, she couldn¡¯t back down. Not now.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go home,¡± Leora said, her voice steady. ¡°But not until I punish those who dared have designs on my family.¡±


    Stefan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. ¡°You¡¯re as stubborn as ever.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, Leora turned on her heel and walked back toward her bike, the weight of Stefan¡¯s words lingering in her mind. She knew the risks, she always had. But vengeance burned too hot in her veins to ignore.


    As she mounted her bike and revved the engine, she cast one last glance back at Stefan. His silhouette stood motionless under the dim streetlight, watching her with the same grim expression.


    The hunt wasn¡¯t over. And she wouldn¡¯t rest until those who had threatened her family were dealt with.


    No matter the cost.


    Leora¡¯s instincts had never failed her before. She released her bike just in time, watching as it hurtled forward into a net trap, which instantly ignited in flames. Her sharp eyes narrowed¡ªmundane technology, not aura. These weren¡¯t hunters. They were mercenaries. Mundane, but still dangerous in numbers.


    The sudden hail of bullets from the windows above confirmed her suspicions. Automatic rifles. The air buzzed with the sharp whine of metal as it tore through the space she¡¯d just vacated. Leora rolled to the side, her body moving fluidly, instinctively, as she used her aura to enhance her speed. She was a Seeker-type, able to heighten her senses and reflexes far beyond the norm. It made her faster, sharper¡ªdeadly when combined with her years of experience.


    The mercenaries, however, weren¡¯t her real concern. Their auras were weak, practically nonexistent compared to the hunters she had fought before. She darted between alleyways, losing them with ease, her boots barely making a sound as she sprinted through the maze of narrow streets. The city¡¯s shadows swallowed her whole, and the hail of bullets became a distant clatter.


    But even as she evaded the gunfire, something gnawed at the back of her mind. Mercenaries didn¡¯t act on their own. Someone had sent them. Someone who knew what they were doing.


    As she turned the corner into a darkened alley, she stopped abruptly. Her senses flared. Someone was waiting for her.


    A figure stood at the end of the alley, cloaked in shadows. Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed as she took in the aura radiating from the figure¡ªit was unmistakably a hunter. Strong, but not overwhelming. They weren¡¯t here to kill her, at least not directly. This was a message.


    The hunter stepped forward, revealing a lean figure, their face hidden beneath a hood. "You¡¯ve been making waves, Leora the Bright," they said, their voice calm but edged with menace. "It¡¯s time to stop."


    Leora¡¯s hand drifted instinctively to the hilt of her blade, concealed beneath her coat. "Who sent you?" she asked, her voice cold, unwavering.


    The hunter didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, they raised a hand, and the air around them began to hum with power. Their aura was crackling, electric, a Trickster-type, judging by the subtle shifts in the air. Illusions, deception. Leora¡¯s least favorite opponent.


    "You¡¯ve been digging too deep," the hunter said, his voice low and threatening. "It¡¯s not you we want. Walk away, and maybe we¡¯ll let you live."


    Leora didn¡¯t flinch. Her sharp gaze locked on the man, and her mind raced, calculating the distance between them. She didn¡¯t need to hear more to understand what this was. They had been sent by the same people who had attacked her home, the same ones who had nearly killed Reynard and Leon.


    And now, they wanted her to back off.


    It was ironic.


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t want me poking around, you should¡¯ve left my family alone,¡± she said, her voice steady, but cold with anger.


    Leora knew the type she was dealing with. Tricksters were typically illusionists, skilled at distorting perceptions. But against a Seeker like her, they were at a great disadvantage. She could see through the lies.


    The man before her wore a hood, his face partially hidden in shadow. Without hesitation, Leora reached for her knife, pulling it from under her jacket. A brass knuckle slid smoothly over her other hand. With a single breath, she reappeared beneath her foe, moving faster than the eye could follow.


    But before she could strike, a sharp crack echoed in her ears. Her helmet split, the impact barely missing her skull as she jerked back just in time.


    Her opponent¡¯s fist crackled with energy, a surge of raw power. "I didn¡¯t come alone," he said smugly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "And yes, I¡¯m a fighter."


    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed. She had been tricked.


    Behind her, another hunter appeared¡ªthis one a woman clad in a revealing outfit. But Leora wasn¡¯t fooled by appearances; the aura around her hinted at something more dangerous than a simple Fighter-type. Knowing her ¡®senses¡¯ were being fooled and making her misinterpret their aura-types, she decided to focus on her defense and react when she could.


    Her combat style focused on counter-attacks after all, thus she chose a more passive style.


    That had been a mistake.


    The woman raised her hands, and before Leora could react, a sphere of airless space enveloped her. Her chest tightened as the air was sucked from her lungs, and she fell to her knees, struggling for breath.


    It was a Caster.


    Leora''s vision blurred as the air was ripped from her lungs.


    The oppressive pressure of the airless sphere constricted around her, pulling her to her knees. Her mind raced, calculating her next move as the woman¡ªthe Caster¡ªsmirked, her hands still raised in the air as she maintained control over the suffocating trap.


    Leora''s instincts screamed at her to act quickly. Her aura flared, but the sphere blocked any attempt to draw air into her lungs. Stay calm. Her Seeker-type aura told her everything she needed to know: the woman was controlling the air around her, and there was no escape until she broke the Caster''s focus. The fake Trickster had only been a distraction. They had prepared for her.


    Her knife was still in her hand, gripped tightly despite the growing weakness in her limbs. The brass knuckle pressed against her skin. She could feel her heartbeat slowing, her body crying out for oxygen, but she didn¡¯t let it show. There was no fear in her eyes, only cold determination.


    Leora remained conscious despite the crushing pressure bearing down on her. Every breath felt like a battle, but she wasn¡¯t about to give in.


    The Fighter, whom she had mistaken for a Trickster, removed his hood, revealing an older man with a scar etched beneath his right eye. His expression twisted into a mocking grin.


    ¡°Hey, hey, having a tough time?¡± A voice rang out from above.


    Leora forced her head upward, her vision blurry from the suffocating spell. She spotted a young man in his early twenties standing on a nearby ledge. His face was unremarkable, one that would easily blend into a crowd, and he wore glasses with a casual sweater. He was the real Trickster, the one who could manipulate auras to deceive even her senses.


    ¡°So, this is Leora of the Guiding Light,¡± the young man mused with an air of amusement. ¡°You started around thirteen, right? That¡¯s awfully young. I only began recently myself.¡± He adjusted his glasses nonchalantly. ¡°I¡¯m putting together a team, you see. And to build a team, I need funds. My current job is retrieving a certain boy for this organization... hmm, what was his name again? Ah, Leonard. Yes, your son, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Leora¡¯s body tensed. Fury surged through her, momentarily pushing the suffocation aside. ¡°Leave my son¡¯s name out of your mouth¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, that won¡¯t do,¡± the Trickster interrupted with a smirk. He glanced toward the Caster, the woman still maintaining the airless sphere around Leora. ¡°Sarah, dear, would you mind increasing the pressure, please?¡±


    Leora felt the crushing force intensify, her lungs burning as the air continued to escape her. Her vision dimmed, but her rage kept her conscious. She couldn¡¯t let them touch Leonard. Not him. Never him.

 8 The Phone Call

    "Where is the boy?" the Trickster asked, his smile insincere and mocking.


    Leora met his gaze and smiled back. Her mind eased, if only for a brief moment. Reynard had done it. Her husband, often seen as dull and predictable by others, had proven once again that he could rise to the occasion when it truly mattered.


    While Leora had used her extensive connections to hire specialists who erased her family''s trails and shielded them from prying eyes, Reynard had gone even further. He had taken them completely off the grid. Even Leora, with all her skills and resources, had no idea where he and their son were now.


    The Trickster''s eyes narrowed, sensing something amiss in her quiet confidence, but Leora''s smile never faltered. They wouldn¡¯t find Leonard. Not in a thousand years. Reynard had ensured that.


    "You''re wasting your time," she said calmly, her voice steady despite the crushing force around her. ¡°I assure you will never find them.¡±


    The Trickster''s casual tone grated on Leora¡¯s nerves. ¡°That¡¯s fine and all,¡± he said, shrugging with a smirk. ¡°Must be off-grid then. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m trying that hard. I¡¯m my own person, after all.¡±


    He leaned in, still hovering above her with an air of smugness. ¡°Hey, Bright, why not join my Troupe? I¡¯ll help you protect your family. Good deal, right? You do know a dedicated tracker can still find them.¡±


    Leora¡¯s eyes darkened, her breath steady despite the suffocating pressure. "Troupe?" she echoed, her voice cold with disbelief.


    ¡°Ah, yeah, you heard me right,¡± the Trickster continued, clearly enjoying himself. ¡°I¡¯ve got no plans of affiliating with the Hunter¡¯s Association¡ªtoo stuffy, you know? So not a Guild, and definitely not a Clan. A Troupe. A group of people united by intersecting personal interests.¡±


    He waved his hand theatrically. ¡°I¡¯m still workshopping the name, but I¡¯m thinking¡­ the Undead Troupe! And our motto? ¡®We never tire of work!¡¯ Get it? ¡®Cause, you know, we¡¯re relentless.¡± He chuckled, amused by his own joke, but his eyes remained sharp, watching her reaction carefully.


    Leora remained silent, staring up at him through the haze of pain. The pressure from the Caster¡¯s spell tightened around her chest, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. She knew his kind¡ªsmoke and mirrors, words meant to manipulate and entangle.


    The Trickster¡¯s smile faltered slightly at her lack of response. ¡°Come on, think about it. You¡¯re strong, smart, and clearly capable. Your family could use protection from the bigger fish out there. All I ask is for you to join my Troupe.¡±


    Leora clenched her jaw, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. She knew what he was trying to do¡ªoffering her false hope, preying on her fears, trying to make her believe that his so-called protection was the only option left.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather die than join you,¡± she spat, her voice filled with venom.


    The Trickster¡¯s expression shifted, his faux charm slipping for just a moment. ¡°Well,¡± he said, his voice tightening, ¡°that¡¯s a shame. Sarah, increase the pressure again, would you? Let¡¯s see how stubborn she really is.¡±


    Out of nowhere¡ªthud¡ªthe oppressive pressure around Leora vanished. Gasping for air, she blinked, realizing she was no longer surrounded by her captors but standing at the ledge.


    Instinctively, she looked down. The Trickster was sprawled on the ground below, gasping for breath as though some invisible force had struck him. The Caster, alarmed, immediately dispelled her suffocating spell, panic flashing across her face. The Fighter, however, was quick to react, launching himself upward in a desperate attempt to catch Leora.


    There was no time to think, no time to figure out what had happened. Leora¡¯s instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, she turned and ran.


    Her aura flared to life, wrapping around her body like a second skin. In an instant, she was gone, her speed blurring her figure as she sprinted through the city streets. Buildings, shadows, and alleys all melted together as she pushed herself to her limits.


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    The wind howled in her ears as she vanished into the night, leaving the Trickster and his troupe behind. She didn''t dare look back¡ªher only focus now was escape, and ensuring she lived to protect her family another day.


    Leora found herself just outside a dimly lit convenience store, her heart still racing from the escape. She scanned her surroundings, trying to calm the lingering adrenaline in her system.


    ¡°Come out,¡± she called, her voice steady but low. She could feel it¡ªthe faint yet undeniable presence. Someone had been following her, their aura expertly suppressed, almost undetectable.


    Slowly, a figure emerged from her shadow, rising as if from the darkness itself. He was a man dressed in a dark suit with white pinstripes, his appearance sharp and deliberate. He wore shades, despite the night, and an obvious small black diamond tattoo marked the skin beneath his left eye.


    Leora¡¯s hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her knife, though she didn¡¯t draw it. She studied the man for a moment, her mind racing back to the encounter at the ledge. ¡°It was you, wasn¡¯t it? The one who saved me back there?¡±


    The man gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable behind the shades. ¡°Call me Jacob,¡± he said, his voice smooth and composed.


    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed. Jacob. The name didn¡¯t ring any bells, but the way he moved and his calm demeanor told her he was no ordinary bystander. He was skilled, precise, and dangerous in his own right.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked, wary. "Why help me?"


    Without a word, Jacob reached into his pocket and handed her a small strip of paper. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, her guard still up. Her eyes scanned the slip, confusion spreading across her face.


    ¡°It¡¯s from your favorite author,¡± Jacob said, his tone light but carrying weight.


    Leora¡¯s breath caught. ¡°What?¡± She glanced back at him, the significance of the paper not fully hitting her yet.


    Jacob gave her a faint smile. ¡°He said he¡¯s the most handsome guy in the world.¡±


    For a brief moment, Leora¡¯s hard exterior cracked. Her chest tightened, emotions welling up that she hadn¡¯t allowed herself to feel in years. She almost teared up, but she forced herself to hold it in¡ªshe was still standing in front of a hunter, after all, and she couldn¡¯t afford to show any vulnerability.


    Her hands shook slightly as she grabbed the paper, her eyes locking onto the phone number scrawled across it. She didn¡¯t need long to memorize it, but the sight of it made her heart pound. There was no doubt now. It wasn¡¯t just any author¡ªit was him.


    Leora stuffed the paper into her pocket, her expression hardening once more as she looked back at Jacob. "Why are you doing this?"


    Jacob shrugged, his face still unreadable behind his shades. ¡°It¡¯s a job from the author. He has something I want. Talk to him.¡±


    Leora¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Reynard. Her mind flashed back to her husband¡ªsteady, predictable Reynard, or so she had always believed. But now, doubt gnawed at her. What had Reynard gotten himself into?


    What did you do, Reynard?


    For the first time, she realized that she might not know her husband as well as she thought. Her overconfidence in hiding their family after the incident had stemmed from her extensive network, years of pulling favors and calling in debts from allies. But Reynard¡¯s voluntary decision to disappear off the grid¡ªtwo years ago, without even telling her where he had gone¡ªhad been the final layer of protection.


    To be fair, it was her who disappeared on them without a word.


    Now, with Jacob¡¯s words echoing in her mind, Leora wondered if that disappearance had been more than just a survival tactic. Had Reynard done something more? Something that put their son at risk?


    Her grip tightened around the phone in her hand. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen. She hadn¡¯t contacted Reynard since he disappeared. Part of her had trusted him to stay hidden, to keep their family safe, but now she wasn¡¯t so sure.


    What if Reynard had been involved in something dangerous all along?


    Her mind raced as she unlocked her phone. She stared at the blank screen for a moment, weighing her options. Calling that number¡ªcontacting Reynard¡ªmight give her the answers she needed, but it also meant diving deeper into whatever secrets he had been keeping.


    Jacob watched her silently, his patience unnerving. Leora took a deep breath and dialed the number written on the strip of paper.


    The line rang once. Twice.


    Then a familiar voice picked up on the other end.


    ¡°Leora?¡± Reynard¡¯s voice was calm, as if nothing had changed. But to her, everything had.


    ¡°Reynard,¡± she whispered, her grip on the phone tightening. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°Time and place,¡± Reynard demanded, his voice steady on the other end of the line.


    Leora didn''t hesitate. ¡°The place where we first met. How about a week from now? I have some... cleanup to do. I was ambushed, and I need to cover my tracks.¡±


    There was a pause, then Reynard¡¯s voice lowered slightly. ¡°Is it the Undead Troupe?¡±


    Leora¡¯s breath caught. ¡°H-how did you know? Yes, it¡¯s them.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re more dangerous than they appear,¡± Reynard warned, his tone grim. ¡°Especially their leader. Never engage them. Not the way you are now. Have you met him? Wears shades, little diamond tattoo under his left eye?¡±


    Leora¡¯s mind raced as she recalled Jacob¡¯s face, his casual demeanor and cryptic manner. ¡°Yes, I met Jacob.¡±


    ¡°Jacob?¡± Reynard sounded thoughtful. ¡°Probably an alias. 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 clear in his voice. ¡°The fewer attachments, the better. Two weeks, then¡ªMarch 17. I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±

 9 Paranoid But Prepared

    ¡°Leora, give the phone to Jacob,¡± I said, carefully lowering my voice so as not to wake Leon, who was finally asleep in his crib. I stood there for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of my son¡¯s breathing, hoping that, for once, he¡¯d sleep longer than usual.


    There was a brief shuffle on the other end, and then Jacob''s voice came through. ¡°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 information 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 silent for a few seconds before he responded, his voice layered with cautious curiosity. ¡°Consider it my professional curiosity¡ªhow are you going to enforce these favors?¡±


    I smiled slightly. Classic Jacob, always wanting to know the angle. ¡°Easy,¡± I said, my tone still calm, but firm. ¡°I¡¯ll threaten them 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 the rules.¡±


    There was another long silence. This time, the weight of it was heavier. I could almost hear the gears turning in Jacob¡¯s head, the calculations he was making. He didn¡¯t like being cornered, but he also knew I wasn¡¯t bluffing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like being threatened¡ª¡± Finally, he spoke only to cut his words mid-speech. ¡°¡­.¡± Nothing. Speechless, as expected.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I continued, softening my tone just a bit to assure him. ¡°I have no intention of blackmailing you. I¡¯m a businessman, after all¡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. The rules were clear between people like us, and he knew better than to cross a line that couldn¡¯t be uncrossed.


    Jacob finally let out a small breath. ¡°Understood,¡± he said, his voice less smug than before. ¡°I¡¯ll choose the latter, the devil-catching info. It¡¯s more useful for what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    I nodded to myself. ¡°Smart choice. You¡¯ll have it within the next two days.¡±


    There was no need for more words. 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 need it translated, so it would be just more work in the end.


    ¡°Tell Leora I¡¯ll see her soon,¡± I added before hanging up.


    As the call ended, I glanced at Leon, still asleep, peaceful and unaware of the dangerous world waiting outside. For now, he was safe. For now, I had time.


    But I knew 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 that when the time came, Leora would be ready.


    Two weeks. It seemed like an eternity, but I had learned to make the most of time, especially now. I had already disposed of anything that could be traced back to us, burned every scrap that could tie me to this place. The cave had been wiped clean of any sign that a human had lived here. It took a week of meticulous work, erasing every trace. A week left before I could reunite with Leora.


    "Buuu~"


    The faint sound from Leon brought me back to the present. I felt his discomfort through the aura I was sharing with him, like a soft ripple in the air¡ªa sensation I¡¯d grown attuned to over time. He was cold, but before I could even react, I watched as his little body instinctively began to heat up, his natural warmth returning. A flicker of pride swelled in me as I observed his control over his heat attribute, even at such a young age.


    It was strange, knowing that Leon was already developing abilities far beyond what most children his age could manage. Yet here he was, unconsciously protecting himself, showing signs of power that would have impressed even the strictest hunter teachers.


    I walked over to his crib, crouching beside it and placing my hand gently on his chest. His warmth radiated back at me, steady now, his breathing even. For a moment, I just watched him, his peaceful face, tiny fists curled under the blanket. He didn¡¯t know anything about the dangers outside, about the enemies we were hiding from. And he didn¡¯t need to¡ªnot yet.


    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. And when the time came, I would tell her everything.


    But until then, I had to keep us safe. That was my only focus.


    ¡°Hang in there, Leon,¡± I whispered softly. "Your mother and I will figure this out."


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    I burned the crib last, borrowing Leon¡¯s heat attribute to ignite it. Watching the flames consume the wood, I couldn¡¯t help but reflect on the strangeness of my situation. In a world where aura followed strict rules, I didn¡¯t fit the mold. The attribute theory didn¡¯t apply to me.


    For months, while practicing my aura, I¡¯d tried to discern what my attributes were¡ªwhat special function my aura carried. According to this world¡¯s lore¡ªonce just the lore of a novel I¡¯d written¡ªaura should have an attribute, a defining characteristic that acted as a manifestation of power. Strength, speed, focus, or an elemental-class attribute¡ªeveryone had something. But not me.


    I¡¯d spent months searching, testing myself, waiting for the telltale signs of some ability. But there was nothing. Just a thin layer of aura, barely perceptible, almost like a second skin. It was so faint, so subtle, that I reckoned I could pass for a normal person in the presence of even the sharpest hunter.


    Leon, however, was different. Even as a baby, his heat attribute flared naturally, instinctively. It was something I couldn¡¯t relate to, but it gave me hope. Whatever I lacked, Leon didn¡¯t.


    I went over the finer details of my special ability: Soul Link. It had taken months of trial and error to fully grasp its potential, but even now, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d explored all of its depths. Still, there were a few things I had confirmed:


    <ol>


    <li>Aura Borrowing: The cornerstone of my ability. I could borrow aura from any living being, not just aura users. It wasn¡¯t limited to just one target either; I could link up with multiple individuals simultaneously, pooling their aura into myself. Whether it was animals, people, or even the weakest life forms, I could tap into their aura.</li>


    <li>Aura Equality: Once the aura was gathered in me, it didn¡¯t stay there. It would be divided equally among all those linked by Soul Link. This equalization wasn¡¯t just a simple redistribution¡ªit was dynamic, shifting in real-time depending on how much aura was accrued. If I took more, they got less. If they needed more, I gave it up. I imagined¡­ combat would be really weird especially if the Soul Link was connected to multiple foes.</li>


    <li>Aura Diminishment: This was one of the darker sides of my ability. I could cut someone off from the link, and when I did, they would be left with a kind of ¡®aura debt¡¯¡ªwhatever aura I had taken from them and used, they would have to make up for. It was a dangerous move, one I hadn¡¯t fully explored. I never tried it on Leon, though. The thought of him bearing the weight of my used-up aura terrified me. It might kill him, and I couldn¡¯t take that risk.</li>


    <li>Aura Sabotage: Another more lethal aspect of Soul Link. If I dispelled the link with someone, I could control the amount of aura I returned to them. I could weaken them, send back only fragments of what I borrowed, or overload them, which could cause severe damage. It was a potent tool in combat, but morally... tricky.</li>


    <li>Attribute Stealing: This was perhaps the most useful aspect when dealing with other aura users. I could steal one attribute from each person I linked to¡ªspeed, strength, durability, anything they had. The downside? Non-aura users didn¡¯t have attributes, so I couldn¡¯t steal anything from them, only their raw aura. Still, it gave me flexibility in a fight, letting me adapt depending on my opponents¡¯ abilities. The attribute would be returned normally if I used up my aura.</li>


    <li>Limitations: The biggest limitation was that I had to touch someone once to link with them. I wasn¡¯t sure if there was a time limit on that touch, though. Did I have to reestablish the link after a while, or did one touch last indefinitely until aura exhaustion hit me? I hadn¡¯t pushed the boundaries there. For non-aura users, I could link up just by making eye contact, which was far more convenient.</li>


    </ol>


    I slung Leon over one arm, his small weight a comforting presence against my chest, while in the other hand, I gripped my machete. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light of the cave.


    The Mivah Mountains were unforgiving, but I knew these paths well enough by now. I had no time to waste¡ªour temporary sanctuary was gone, reduced to ash and smoke, and it was time to descend, to blend into the world once more.


    As I began my descent, the cold air bit into my skin, but my aura provided just enough warmth to keep us going. Leon shifted in his sleep, his tiny hand grasping at my shirt. I looked down at him, wondering what kind of future he would inherit¡­ especially with my interference.


    I¡¯d finished everything with Aunt Marie. After shaving off my beard and making myself look as inconspicuous as possible, I¡¯d disposed of all my phones except for the one Leora could reach me on. That was the only connection I¡¯d allow. Down the mountain, my second-hand car sat waiting, the final part of my arrangements with Marie. She¡¯d been a reliable asset these past two years, but now, our business was done.


    I tossed my backpack, packed with supplies and the last of my money, into the back. Securing Leon in the backseat, I made sure he was snug before checking the trunk. Clothes, wigs, supplies¡ªeverything I¡¯d need to change my appearance on the go. I slipped into something more forgettable: a plain bonnet, a cheap wig of brown hair, and a fake tattoo drawn on with a sharpie.


    The man I saw in the side mirror now looked just another face in a crowd.


    I¡¯d been lucky for the past two years, but I knew luck had a shelf life. No one had caught up to us so far, but that wouldn¡¯t last forever. The Mivah Mountains had protected us, their natural aura-dispersing properties making it nearly impossible for anyone to track us. The mountains had been the perfect camouflage. For Leon, still an infant, his aura was so attuned to nature it blended in, nearly being undetectable.


    But things were changing. Mundanes were easy to ignore. I wasn¡¯t mundane anymore, not since I¡¯d started manipulating my aura. And Leon¡ªhis aura was growing stronger by the day. He was becoming more visible to anyone sensitive enough to track him. It was only a matter of time before someone picked up on our trail, and I couldn¡¯t risk waiting around for that to happen.


    I glanced back at Leon, his small face peaceful as he slept in his car seat. His aura, though subtle now, would one day blaze bright enough to catch the attention of every dangerous entity out there. That thought distressed me constantly.


    I got into the driver¡¯s seat and started the car, the engine sputtering to life. There was a calmness to it, a brief moment of quiet before we would disappear again, slipping into the cracks of the world, unnoticed for just a little longer.


    As I drove, I couldn¡¯t help but think about the promise I¡¯d made to Leora¡ªto meet her in two weeks. March 17. By then, I¡¯d have to be ready for whatever came next.


    The road stretched out before me, quiet and empty. But I knew better than to trust the silence. The real danger wasn¡¯t behind me anymore. It was ahead, waiting.


    And I have prepared as much as I could.

 10 Subtlety & Stealth

    I pulled the car to a stop by a local roadside eatery, the kind of place that didn¡¯t attract much attention. The parking situation was a mess¡ªvehicles scattered across the grass or lined up along the road¡¯s edge. As I looked out the window, I saw the eatery was connected to a small, humble home, probably run by a family.


    I parked the car at the far edge, away from the clutter. It meant more walking, but it also gave me a clean getaway if things went south. I didn¡¯t like taking chances, especially not now. I pocketed my keys and grabbed my wallet from the backpack, then carefully lifted Leon from his car seat. He stirred but didn¡¯t wake.


    Once I was sure the car was locked, I slung my backpack over one shoulder and headed toward the eatery. The smell of cooking meat and spices wafted toward me, mixing with the faint scent of gasoline from the parked vehicles. Leon was warm in my arms, his tiny face peaceful as he nuzzled into my jacket.


    It wasn¡¯t much, this little roadside spot, but it was safe. Unassuming. Exactly the kind of place we needed right now¡ªhidden in plain sight. No one would expect anything important to happen here.


    The ground crunched under my boots as I approached the entrance, passing by a couple of old pickup trucks and a minivan. A few people sat on plastic chairs outside, eating quietly. They barely glanced at me.


    Good.


    I adjusted my fake wig, making sure it was secure, and pushed the door open. Inside, the air was warm, and the smell of food was stronger. A few tables were scattered around, mostly empty except for one group in the corner. The owner, a middle-aged woman, stood behind the counter, wiping her hands on a stained apron. She looked up and gave me a polite smile, but her eyes didn¡¯t linger. Just another customer passing through.


    I walked to the counter, Leon resting against my chest, his tiny hand clutching my jacket.


    "Just a meal," I said quietly, keeping my voice calm even though my mind was racing. "And something to drink."


    The woman behind the counter barely looked up, nodding as she scribbled down my order. "Curry and rice? And maybe soda?"


    "Yeah, that''ll do."


    She didn¡¯t ask any more questions. People in places like this usually didn¡¯t. That was good¡ªit meant fewer prying eyes, fewer memories of faces that might get passed along if someone came asking later. I moved away from the counter, Leon still cradled in my arms, and found a seat in the far corner of the room, my back pressed against the wall. From here, I had a clear view of the entrance and anyone who stepped through it.


    Leon stirred, shifting slightly as his small hands curled into my shirt. His aura flickered, faint but present, and I could sense the subtle way it reached out, almost instinctively picking up on my own tension. I held him a little closer, smoothing down his hair, trying to steady my heartbeat so he wouldn¡¯t feel it. He was too young to understand, but aura had a way of speaking its own language, especially between family.


    I glanced around the room, my eyes drifting from table to table, scanning the faces. A few families sat scattered, eating their meals, and a couple of truckers were seated near the back, gruff and engrossed in their food. No one seemed out of place. No one looked my way. Yet that nagging feeling remained, like the weight of a gaze I couldn¡¯t quite catch.


    I knew I was being paranoid.


    But paranoid trumped dead anytime of the day.


    I turned my attention back to Leon, forcing a smile for his sake. "It''s just a quick stop, little guy. After this, we¡¯ll be on the road again. Just need to fuel up, and we¡¯ll be gone before anyone knows."


    He babbled softly, too young to form real words, but it was comforting nonetheless. The sound grounded me, reminding me that he was my priority. Everything I was doing, every risk I was taking, was for him and Leora. Nothing else mattered.


    Minutes passed, the air in the eatery filled with the smells of food and quiet chatter.


    Leon had woken up crying again. I¡¯d just cleaned his diapers a few minutes ago, so he had to be hungry. I reached under my jacket and pulled out a bottle of milk, handing it to him. His tiny hands grabbed the bottle, and he started chugging, his new teeth working away at the sucker. I¡¯d noticed there was already a small hole forming from all the chewing.


    The waitress brought over my plate of steaming hot curry and rice, setting it down without a word. I noticed there was bread too in the sides. I was ready to eat when she suddenly asked, ¡°How old is he?¡±


    ¡°Two years old,¡± I replied, a little wary of where this was going.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a Karen, ''cause, well, my name is Karen... but you should probably start weaning him off the bottle. Look at him go. I mean, he¡¯s adorable, but if he keeps this up, he might develop a fixation. You know, chewing on pencils or pens later. Worse, he¡¯ll get picky with food as he gets older.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked, not sure if I believed her.


    ¡°Seriously. I¡¯ve got three kids. My eldest didn¡¯t stop with the bottle until he was seven¡ªturned out to be a real handful,¡± she said with a laugh.


    I had already been feeding Leon solids for a few months, but every time, he cried for the bottle. I sighed, considering her words as Leon continued guzzling down his milk.


    ¡°How about you let me hold him while you eat?¡± Karen offered, smiling.


    I shook my head. ¡°Nah, I wouldn¡¯t want to bother you.¡±


    ¡°Your loss,¡± she said, shrugging.


    Leon kept chugging, and I started eating, tearing off small pieces of bread for him to nibble on between sips. This was my life now¡ªone hand feeding my kid, the other hand holding a spoon. I nodded my thanks to Karen as I ate, but my attention was still tuned to Leon and the room around me.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I glanced at the TV while I ate, half-watching a football game as I tore into the curry. The rest of the eatery¡¯s patrons weren¡¯t paying much attention to the screen. Most were either focused on their food, glued to their phones, or chatting with one another. The atmosphere was relaxed, quiet, just the hum of life going on around me. It almost felt normal.


    Then, the game cut out, replaced by a news alert.


    "Breaking News! A forest fire has occurred on the Mivah Mountains this early in the morning, approximately nine o¡¯clock¡ª"


    My hand froze mid-bite, the fork hovering in the air. Mivah Mountains.


    The fire wasn¡¯t mine. It couldn¡¯t have been caused by Leon or me. I made damn sure we left stealthily, erasing every trace. I burned only what needed to be burned, making sure no residual flames would spread. The fire on the news¡ªit could only mean one thing.


    Hunters.


    Trackers, more specifically. They must¡¯ve been closing in, pushing hard to catch up to us. The speed at which they found my trail unnerved me. I¡¯d been careful, careful enough to avoid detection for two years. But now, they were getting desperate, or maybe just more determined.


    I looked down at Leon, still happily munching on his bread, oblivious to the danger that was steadily creeping closer. My heart pounded against my ribs, but I kept my expression neutral. No sudden moves. Not yet.


    I needed to get out of here.


    Trackers. A specialized type of Hunter, and by far the most annoying to deal with. They could find you from a thousand different clues you¡¯d never even notice¡ªair signatures, tiny aura imprints, maybe even a drop of sweat you didn¡¯t realize you left behind. The thought of them combing through the Mivah Mountains only cemented the relief I felt for getting out when I did.


    I devoured my lunch quickly, forcing myself to stay calm despite the growing urgency in my chest. Karen came over with an off-brand soda, her usual nosiness nowhere to be found this time. I paid her for the meal, giving her a little extra for the trouble, then picked up Leon and made my way back to the car. My fingers twitched to lock the doors the moment I settled him into the backseat.


    With the engine roaring to life, I sped off, merging onto the highway. My eyes darted to the side mirror every few seconds, scanning the road behind me for any suspicious vehicles. Nothing yet, but that didn¡¯t mean I could relax. The news segment kept replaying in my mind¡ªthe fire, the timing. How much time did I have before they traced it back to us? I didn¡¯t stick around to watch the whole broadcast, but it was recent enough to be an immediate threat.


    I opened the can of soda, chugged it down, and then crushed it in my hand, chucking it out the window. Every second counted now.


    If they were close, I needed to stay ahead. If they were still behind, then I had to get further ahead.


    I just had to keep moving.


    I had two days left before the meet-up with Leora. Just forty-eight hours. I kept reminding myself of that as I sat in the dimly lit motel room, cradling Leon in my arms. It was barely 5 a.m., the sun still hidden below the horizon, and my instincts told me it was time to move again. I¡¯d been driving nonstop, only stopping at this motel to catch a few hours of sleep. I had planned to leave as soon as the first hint of light hit the sky.


    But something was wrong.


    As I passed through the hallways, I caught sight of them. Three people outside, standing too close to my car, studying it in a way that set my nerves on edge. I should have swapped vehicles by now. Changed the plates at least. But I¡¯d gotten complacent, too focused on staying under the radar. Regrets weren¡¯t going to help me now.


    I hurried back to the room¡ª909, left side, third floor. The sound of my footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor. My mind raced, calculating the next move, but my options were rapidly shrinking. The car was compromised, and I couldn¡¯t risk an open confrontation, not with Leon to think about.


    Sitting on the edge of the bed, I held Leon tighter, his small body radiating warmth against my chest. He stirred in his sleep but didn¡¯t wake. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my mind. They¡¯d found me sooner than I expected, and now I was cornered.


    I couldn¡¯t use the front exit¡ªnot with those three lurking around. I¡¯d have to slip out the back or find another way. But first, I needed to buy some time. Maybe, just maybe, they hadn¡¯t confirmed I was inside the motel yet.


    I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the phone. I picked it up and dialed the front desk. When the receptionist answered, I kept my voice steady.


    "Hi, this is room 909. Could you send someone to check on my car? I think I left the headlights on."


    She sounded confused but agreed, and I hung up. It wasn¡¯t much, but it might at least get those people to shift their attention for a moment. That¡¯s all I needed¡ªa small window to slip out unnoticed.


    I made my way to the fire exit, clutching Leon tightly against my chest. The metal steps creaked underfoot as I descended, each sound making me wince. The fire escape was narrow, not exactly built for a man carrying an infant, but I managed, moving with as much grace as I could muster. My movements felt awkward, not as fluid as I¡¯d have liked, but I couldn¡¯t afford any missteps.


    As I reached the bottom, I found myself in a narrow alley cluttered with trash bins and overrun with stray animals. The air smelled of rotting food and damp concrete.


    I felt Leon stir slightly in my arms, his aura flickering faintly. I didn¡¯t have time to second-guess myself. I reached for our Soul Link, tapping into Leon¡¯s aura. His warmth spread through me, a faint heat coursing through my veins as I borrowed his power. It wasn¡¯t much, but it made a difference. I could feel the aura of every living thing around me, however small, like threads of energy connecting us all. Even the stray animals had their own faint aura, subdued but present.


    I borrowed what I could from them, weaving their life force into my own. The pooling aura between me, Leon, and the strays equalized, dulling the sharpness of our presence. More muddled. Over twenty-one identical auras should be pretty confusing for a hunter.


    Chances were, the weak-willed would be spooked. At the minimum, forced to err on the side of caution.


    I kicked one of the trash bins, making a loud clatter that startled the stray animals. They scattered in all directions, their aura flaring as they bolted. It was a calculated move. If anyone was tracking us through aura, the sudden burst of seemingly identical life forms scattering would create a confusing mess to sift through.


    As the strays fled, I moved quickly through the alley. It was time to disappear into the background like a ghost.


    I visualized closing off my pores, imagining my aura compressing and shrinking into nothingness. The most basic of Trickster Method was all about minimizing presence, making yourself blend seamlessly with the world around you. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was enough to fool most. I cycled Leon¡¯s aura back to him, keeping just enough connected to maintain our Soul Link and enabling him to hide his aura.


    Once I received my son¡¯s unfiltered aura, I processed it with the Trickster Method and then I was in stealth mode again.


    To any tracker, we should now feel like any other mundane person¡ªjust another father and child, lost in the ordinary world.


    I made my way through another alley, this time moving slower, more deliberate, like a shadow slipping past unnoticed. I followed the damp path back toward the motel, hugging the walls, listening carefully. Then I saw them.


    Three figures, the ones I¡¯d spotted earlier. They were hunters, for sure. I could sense their auras now that they were close. Their energy was sharp, focused, each one a finely tuned instrument for the hunt. But they weren¡¯t hunting me, not yet. They ran right past, too focused on whatever false lead I¡¯d left in my wake.


    "Out of the way!" The muscled guy in the tank top shoved past me without a second glance, his aura thrumming with raw power. He was a brute, all strength and no subtlety. The other two followed, more cautious, but still blind to my presence.


    They didn¡¯t notice a thing.


    I kept walking, slow and steady, not drawing attention, my heart pounding in my chest as I put more distance between us. I felt a strange satisfaction knowing they¡¯d been fooled, but I couldn¡¯t afford to relax. They were still hunters, still dangerous, and we were still being hunted.


    The motel was just behind me now. I needed a new plan.

 11 A Father’s Selfish Resolve

    The past few days blurred together as exhaustion crept into my bones. I¡¯d been driving nearly nonstop, stopping only when absolutely necessary¡ªtwo hours of sleep every five hours, just enough to keep me functional. Leon¡¯s cries punctuated the stretches of silence, and I¡¯d pull over, feed him, change him, and then hit the road again. Coffee became my lifeline. I hated it, but the bitter liquid kept me awake, my nerves taut and ready.


    Every rest stop was a brief moment of reprieve, but I couldn¡¯t afford to stay long. Always watching, always moving. The hunters hadn¡¯t caught up yet, but I knew they weren¡¯t far behind. Trackers could pick up even the faintest hint of aura, and while I¡¯d managed to mask ours well enough, it was only a matter of time before they¡¯d catch on to the pattern.


    Each time I stopped to rest, I¡¯d take in the surroundings, checking for anything out of place. A car parked too long, a stranger glancing too many times. Paranoia had become second nature.


    Leon was a trooper, though. He barely fussed, despite the constant movement. He was starting to get used to this life on the run. That was good¡­ and heartbreaking. No child should have to live like this, always on the edge of danger.


    I sipped another cup of coffee, the caffeine barely making a dent in the overwhelming fatigue now. We were close to the meet-up with Leora. But I couldn¡¯t relax¡ªnot yet.


    Another stop loomed ahead, some small town that looked like it barely had a pulse. I pulled into a shabby motel parking lot, keeping Leon close as I checked us in under a fake name.


    I collapsed onto the bed, letting out a long sigh. I needed to be at full strength for tomorrow¡¯s meeting with Leora. Something told me it wouldn¡¯t go as smoothly as I hoped. Too many moving pieces, too many unknowns. But at least I had a plan¡ªor, more accurately, a precaution.


    I¡¯d developed a new special ability very recently, Soul Link: Search, specifically for situations like this.


    It wasn¡¯t a direct offensive ability but a defensive one¡ªsubtle, quiet, and nearly undetectable. It functioned on conditions, as all my abilities did, like contracts I made with myself and the world around me.


    How exactly did it work?


    Soul Link was tethered to non-aura users, the mundanes that populated any given area. They didn¡¯t need to know they were involved; they just went about their business while I linked to them. No aura was borrowed or equalized, so they felt nothing. But if any of them happened to see the ¡®target¡¯ I was searching for¡ªwhether that was a specific person, item, or even hunters in general¡ªit would send a signal straight to me.


    The beauty of it was that while the mundanes couldn¡¯t see aura, my Soul Link: Search could, through their eyes. It was almost impossible for other hunters to detect this. There were no obvious traces, no aura fluctuations, nothing to give it away. A perfect, passive radar. I¡¯d set it up within a fifty-meter range, casting out the net, and now I could rest a little easier knowing if anyone dangerous approached, I¡¯d know.


    Leon had fallen asleep in the stroller I¡¯d brought from the car. I glanced over at him, his soft breaths barely audible in the quiet of the room. He¡¯d been a champ through all of this, but I knew I couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. I needed to find a way to secure his future and a way to stop running.


    But that was a problem for another day. Right now, I needed sleep. Tomorrow was crucial.


    I closed my eyes, sinking into the mattress, and let exhaustion take over.


    March 17. The day had finally come.


    I drove toward Rumas City, a place that held so many memories for me, and parked near Downing Street. I texted Leora, confirming the time. We¡¯d agreed to meet at the caf¨¦ where it all began¡ªAluna Caf¨¦, across from Kayman¡¯s Tailoring.


    As I stepped inside, the familiarity of the place hit me like a wave. It was the same old caf¨¦, with its cozy warmth and soft hum of conversation. I hadn¡¯t been here in years, but the memories were vivid. I used to come here with my second-hand laptop, hammering out web novels, writing freelance articles, and doing whatever online gigs I could manage. This place had been my refuge, my creative haven back when I was trying to make a life for myself in this strange world.


    But that was a lifetime ago. A past life, really. I¡¯d left all that behind the moment I met her.


    My eyes scanned the room until they landed on her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that smile¡ªsweet, warm, and still capable of stopping my heart. Leora. She sat in the same spot where I used to work, just like the old days.


    For a moment, I stood there, taking it all in. The memories of our first meeting, the awkwardness, the nervousness, and the spark of something that had grown into so much more. This caf¨¦ had seen the start of it all.


    But now, things were different. We weren¡¯t the same people we¡¯d been back then. Too much had changed. Too many secrets, too many things left unsaid. And this meeting? It wasn¡¯t just a reunion. It was a crossroads.


    I walked over to her table, heart pounding slightly more than I¡¯d like to admit. As I sat down across from her, our eyes met. Her expression was calm, but I knew her well enough to see the tension beneath it.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "Hey," I said softly, not really sure where to begin. After everything, ¡°hey¡± seemed like the only word that fit.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she replied, her voice equally soft, but her gaze searching.


    And just like that, we were back in the place where it all started. But this time, there was no going back. Only forward.


    I shook Leon gently in my arms as I sat down, his small body shifting comfortably against me. "Hey, look, Leonard," I said in a teasing tone, "it''s your mom, who¡¯s left us for two years straight and still counting. I think she doesn¡¯t love you anymore."


    Leora¡¯s eyes widened with a hurt look. ¡°Hey~¡± she protested softly. ¡°That¡¯s unfair.¡±


    I knew it was, but the weight of everything that had happened¡ªeverything I had caused¡ªsat heavily on my chest. There was so much I wanted to say, so much to complain about, to admonish her for, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it. Deep down, I knew this was my fault. After all, it was me who wrote the novel that this world had been based on.


    What even came first? My novel? Or this world?


    The fear gnawed at me constantly. I was afraid for myself, afraid I might die at any moment because I¡¯d written it that way. I feared for Leora, who might suffer through lonely twilight years if anything happened to me. And I feared most for Leon, our son, whose future was riddled with the thorns I had woven into this story.


    "My bad," I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "Do you want to hold him?"


    ¡°Yes. Yes, I do,¡± she said, her voice softening as she reached out.


    I handed Leon over to her, watching as her face instantly softened. Her hands trembled slightly as she took him, cradling him like a fragile treasure. It was clear she¡¯d missed him¡ªmissed us. But two years was a long time. Too much time.


    Leon blinked up at her, his little hands reaching out and grabbing at her blonde hair, tugging on it with curiosity. His blue eyes, just like hers, stared at her, probably wondering who she was. He didn¡¯t cry, though. He rarely cried these days. I guess living a life on the run made even a toddler learn to stay quiet.


    Leora smiled softly, brushing a thumb across Leon¡¯s cheek. For a brief moment, the tension lifted, and I saw the mother she always wanted to be. The one she¡¯d been before everything went to hell.


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown so much¡­¡± she whispered, her voice catching. ¡°He¡¯s so beautiful.¡±


    "Yeah," I said quietly, watching them. "He gets that from you."


    Leora looked up at me, her expression filled with emotions I couldn¡¯t quite read. Guilt, love, maybe even relief. But I could see the questions in her eyes too. The unspoken ones¡ªWhere have you been? How are you? What have you been up to??


    I looked away, unable to hold her gaze for long. Because 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, refusing to come out.


    It was complicated. Too complicated.


    I¡¯d thought about it long and hard, trying to figure out how to explain the truth to her. How could I possibly break it to her? ¡®Hey, I¡¯m God. I created this world. Worship me. You¡¯re all just characters in my story¡­¡¯ Yeah, no. That was absurd. The existential crisis that came with the realization was enough to break anyone. If I actually told her, worst case scenario, she¡¯d think I¡¯d lost it and have me sent to the nearest asylum. Best case? She¡¯d hug me, tell me everything was going to be okay¡­ all while quietly thinking I¡¯d gone insane without her and needed serious help.


    I couldn¡¯t risk it. I was too afraid of what would happen if I denied this world¡¯s reality, too afraid of what it would do to her. To me. So, instead, I said something else.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to do something you¡¯re really going to hate,¡± I murmured, but I knew she heard it.


    Before she could respond, I reached out and gently caressed her face, then leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It was long, sweet, and dreamy¡­ just like the day I first met her.


    For my special ability, Soul Link, to work, I needed to touch the target, and the target had to perceive me. As I held Leora close, I let out a half-hearted laugh, trying to lighten the mood. ¡°I¡¯m going to buy milk,¡± I said with a grin, ¡°and I¡¯ll probably be gone for a long time, but I¡¯ll try to come back as fast as I can.¡± A joke, but one that stung with truth. If only I could guarantee my return.


    There were only eight years left before the main storyline kicked off, and I had no idea when my death would come, just that it would happen in those eight years. If death was inevitable, I wanted it on my own terms, not dictated by the events I had written into this world.


    Leora¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. ¡°What are you talking about, Reynard?¡± Her tone was serious, demanding answers I couldn¡¯t fully give.


    I sighed, dropping the humor. ¡°I hated the old arrangement. So here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do. I¡¯ll handle the hunting, and you¡ª¡± I gestured to Leon, still in her arms¡ª¡°you do the baby thing. You¡¯re better connected, you have a stronger network than the one I threw together over the past two years. Leon will have a better life with you. You¡¯ll give him everything I can¡¯t.¡±


    I stood up.


    I saw the anger flash in her eyes, the hurt turning into something sharper. ¡°Sit. Where are you going?¡± Her voice trembled, a mix of frustration and disbelief.


    Without answering, I borrowed both her and Leon¡¯s aura, sharing it among us. Leora didn¡¯t notice right away. I took Leon¡¯s life attribute, vital and pure, and combined it with Leora¡¯s speed attribute.


    ¡°Until then, love,¡± I said softly, offering her a faint smile.


    In an instant, I activated the borrowed speed, layering it with the life attribute to enhance my agility and endurance. I was gone in a blur, moving faster than her aura would allow her to follow, especially with Leon still in her arms. She couldn¡¯t chase me. Not this time. And probably not ever, especially with Leon now in her care.


    A few minutes later, I found myself on a rooftop a few miles away, watching the nearly invisible blur of the caf¨¦ from a distance. The wind whipped at my jacket as I stood still, my eyes scanning the area. I was far enough away to avoid immediate detection, but close enough to delude myself I was standing close with them. I felt my wife and son¡¯s aura in me, slowly trickle into nothing.


    ¡°Ah~ I will probably regret this¡­¡± But it wouldn¡¯t be as bigger a regret if I allowed Leora continue on her path. I couldn¡¯t help but think about the life I was leaving behind, the choices I¡¯d made that brought me here.


    From the shadows behind me, Jacob¡ªknown as Diamond_Black in the Hunter¡¯s Net¡ªmaterialized. His movements were quiet and precise. In one hand, he held a struggling hunter, the man¡¯s eyes wide with terror as he clawed helplessly at Jacob¡¯s grip.


    ¡°That¡¯s two out of three favors I owe you,¡± Jacob said casually, his voice calm despite the violent scene. ¡°One more, and we¡¯re square.¡±


    Without hesitation, Jacob flexed his wrist, and the hunter¡¯s neck snapped with a sickening crack. The body went limp, falling to the ground with a dull thud.


    I stared at the scene, emotionless. I had accumulated more favors than I could count¡ªfavors that I¡¯d be cashing in soon. I¡¯d need every single one of them to take down the organization hunting my son. Leora¡¯s network might¡¯ve been more established, built from years of experience as a hunter, but my arsenal of information and the debts owed to me would be just as potent.


    This was war and I had every intention of winning it.

 12 Accelerated Growth

    Jacob vanished into the shadows, leaving only the dead hunter at my feet. His departure was so seamless, as if he had never been there at all. I stood there, the cold wind biting at my face, a gnawing 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. 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 couldn¡¯t bear the thought of him watching me fall, powerless to help.


    I¡¯d rather be a dead stranger to him than a dead father.


    I knelt beside the hunter¡¯s lifeless body, flipping it over with one swift motion. His face was frozen in terror, and his limp form sagged as I grabbed his jaw and pulled his lower lip down. There it was, etched in the skin: serial numbers.


    ¡°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 any hunters this world had seen. Their influence stretched farther than most realized, and their methods were as brutal as they were effective. They weren¡¯t going to stop until they had Leon.


    But I wasn¡¯t going to let that happen.


    What exactly was the Elsewhere Cult?


    They weren¡¯t just another power-hungry organization¡ªno, they were something worse, something darker. These lunatics worshipped the Forbidden Regions, the places no sane person would ever want to go. And as if that wasn¡¯t bad enough, they offered human sacrifices to Outer Gods. Gods that shouldn¡¯t exist in this world, gods that I regretted ever giving shape to in my writing.


    But their worst act? Their initiation ritual. They didn¡¯t just recruit anyone. To become a member, you had to survive something horrifying¡ªa trip to one of the nightmare realities they could access. These "isekai" realities were no fantasy adventure. They were twisted, cruel places where survival was nearly impossible. Those who made it out were forever changed, scarred, and broken. And those who didn¡¯t¡­ well, they weren¡¯t even remembered.


    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 making eerily accurate predictions. This Reader had foretold that Leon, my son, would one day bring about their destruction. Every last one of them turned to ash, wiped from existence because of him. And so they hunted him, trying to erase that future before it could happen.


    I knelt over the dead hunter as I began rifling through his pockets and clothes. Anything I could use¡ªmoney, identification, anything¡ªwas valuable. I found a small, encrypted device. Probably a communicator of sorts. I would need to crack it open later. There was also a folded piece of paper with coordinates on it. That was worrying. Did they have a base nearby? Were more of them coming?


    I stuffed everything into my jacket.


    I dashed through the streets, using the combined speed and life attributes I had borrowed from Leora and Leon. The world blurred around me as I pushed myself to move faster, my heart pounding in my chest. I had no time to waste¡ªif the cult had managed to track Leon this far, they¡¯d send more hunters soon. Even with my aura concealed, they had ways to sniff people out.


    Assassinating their prophet was the only real chance I had. The rest of the cult? Too vast and too powerful to take down completely, at least with the resources I had at the moment. But the prophet? Without them, the cult¡¯s ability to track people would be severely crippled, buying Leon and Leora some much-needed time.


    Jacob had made quick work of their hunter earlier, but that was Jacob¡ªan Occult Hunter at the top of his game. He specialized in taking down creatures and cultists like these. I wasn¡¯t Jacob. I couldn¡¯t rely on brute force or top-tier combat capabilities. I had to rely on cunning, on knowing how to use my aura and Soul Link in ways they wouldn¡¯t expect.


    As I ran, I felt the borrowed aura begin to fade, the energy exhausting itself. I could sense the limits approaching, and just in time, I spotted the open doors of a train ahead. Perfect. I slowed down, careful not to draw attention as I 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¡ª


    I stepped off the train.


    I found a quiet spot near the station¡ªa bench tucked away in the corner, shaded by a few trees. I pulled out the piece of paper I had looted from the dead hunter, unfolding it carefully. My eyes scanned the address written in hasty, sharp handwriting. A location for their next meet-up, 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. But 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 on their toes, but not so much that they¡¯d catch on to my real plan.


    My thoughts returned to the paper in my hand. This meet-up spot¡ªlikely another ritual site, where they¡¯d plan their next move or perhaps induct new members. They loved to meet in secret, away from prying eyes, usually in abandoned buildings or places touched by the Forbidden Regions. If I could lead them into believing I was heading there, they¡¯d send their hunters swarming like vultures.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A distraction wasn¡¯t enough, though. I needed to go on the offensive, weaken their grip bit by bit.


    I made a few quick notes on my phone, marking possible locations to hit first¡ªplaces where I knew they stored relics, gathered aura, or recruited followers. I had to make sure it looked like I was still on the run, but each of those strikes had to be surgical, precise.


    The train stopped again. I disembarked and slipped into the maze of alleys, making my way toward a safehouse I knew Leora used a few times before. It wasn¡¯t much¡ªjust an old apartment building with a half-broken door¡ªbut it would do for now. I could lay low here for a while, plot my next moves.


    I sat on the creaky couch, pulling out my phone again. I stared at the address for the cult¡¯s meet-up, committing it to memory. Three days. That was my window to strike. In that short period of time, I wondered how much preparation I could do.


    I sighed, leaning back. I wished I had a Seeker or a Reader on my side¡ªsomeone with the ability to track or see beyond the present. It would¡¯ve made this whole mess easier to navigate.


    I was confident I could keep up with other hunters who had years of experience over me. My trump card was my deep, theoretical knowledge about aura. After all, I had written about it in painstaking detail when this world was just a concept on paper. Now, with my special ability Soul Link, my theories could be directly applied as practical knowledge. Still, I wouldn¡¯t dismiss the value of experience. In combat, a split second''s hesitation could be fatal, no matter how much you thought you knew.


    From here on out, I knew I¡¯d be more exposed to enemies, especially while committing to the operations I had planned. The Elsewhere Cult wasn''t something I could handle casually. They were relentless, well-organized, and powerful in ways that defied the usual laws of this world. For the next few days, I contacted a few trusted people, cashing in favors I had accumulated over the years. I trained like a madman, pushing my body and aura control to their limits. My time spent in the mountains had honed my physical abilities, but my aura manipulation still needed refinement.


    One of the key steps in preparing for the battles ahead was figuring out my aura affinities. I had finally acquired a talisman for this purpose, a rare and expensive item that was monopolized by the Fu Clan. It hadn¡¯t been easy to get my hands on one. The talisman was designed to reveal the user''s strongest aura affinity, helping hunters align their abilities with their natural talents.


    I held the talisman in my palm, feeling its warmth as I imbued it with my aura. The object began to glow, and then, with a faint hiss, it burned into the air, forming the character for "Dealer." As I expected, that was my strongest affinity.


    The fire continued to dance in the air, writing more characters in a certain order, each one fading slowly after appearing. By the end, I had a clear picture of my strengths:


    <ol>


    <li>Dealer ¡ª My primary affinity, focused on conditions, contracts, and aura exchanges.</li>


    <li>Seeker ¡ª A secondary affinity, likely tied to my ability to understand and predict aura flows.</li>


    <li>Reader ¡ª A tertiary affinity that enabled me to read emotional fluctuations when linked.</li>


    <li>Trickster ¡ª No surprise here, given my ability to blend in and manipulate perception.</li>


    <li>Caster ¡ª My theoretical knowledge gave me decent proficiency here, though it wasn¡¯t my forte.</li>


    <li>Maker ¡ª I could create simple marks or temporary talismans and objects imbued with aura, but it was still underdeveloped.</li>


    <li>Fighter ¡ª My weakest affinity. Aura-based combat wasn¡¯t my strong suit compared to hunters who specialized in this.</li>


    </ol>


    The result wasn¡¯t unexpected, but it helped solidify where I needed to focus my training. I wasn¡¯t a frontline fighter, but a strategist, someone who could control the battlefield with calculated moves rather than brute force. That¡¯s where my advantage lay¡ªusing aura in unconventional ways, setting traps, creating distractions, and striking when the enemy least expected it.


    I tucked the now-useless talisman into my pocket. I didn¡¯t need to be like the other hunters, the ones who relied on raw power or combat prowess. My strength was in outmaneuvering them, and I¡¯d use that to my advantage.


    The grind continued relentlessly. Every second mattered. I pushed myself to the brink, knowing that understanding aura wasn¡¯t just about raw strength but mastering its intricacies.


    Aura itself was a strange organ, divided into three layers that I had spent Sundays theorizing about and writing down when everything was just a novel to me. But knowing wasn¡¯t enough¡ªI had to feel it. I had to make it part of my very being.


    The Corona was the easiest to grasp, at least in concept. The outermost layer of aura was where the Seven States¡ªFighter, Seeker, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader¡ªmanifested. These States were often misinterpreted as processes or methods, but I knew better. They were states of being. When your aura reached the Corona, it began to influence the environment directly. Each of the Seven States was like a lens through which aura could be focused.


    Then there was the Ectoplasm, the middle layer, and where things got interesting. This layer was where Arcana Attributes manifested, giving unique qualities to the Seven States. These attributes¡ªstrength, speed, fire, water, etc.¡ªwere what made each individual¡¯s aura distinct. But no matter how much I trained, I felt like my attributes were dormant, locked away, and unresponsive. It was frustrating.


    That left the Soul, the innermost layer, and the most complex. It was where aura was generated, where everything that made me me was bound together¡ªmy identity, my history, even the atoms that made up my body. The Soul was also where the mysterious Trinity Thoughts were hidden, the foundation of all aura abilities. They were more concept than technique, and I was still trying to wrap my head around them.


    Think Now. Think Not. Think New.


    The alliteration always struck me as a bit too poetic for something so serious. I wasn¡¯t sure whether to be annoyed or amused by it. But the more I contemplated the Trinity Thoughts, the more I realized they were keys to unlocking something deeper within my soul.


    Think Now¡ªthe idea of being fully present, existing in the moment, with absolute awareness. Focus on the present. Feel the weight of the moment, the tension of each breath, the pulse of aura in my veins. There was power in the now, a force that let me channel my abilities with precision and purpose. If I could master it, I¡¯d never hesitate, never falter in the middle of a fight.


    Think Not¡ªthe concept of letting go, of erasing unnecessary thoughts, creating a void where new possibilities could emerge. The art of rejection, of negation. It wasn¡¯t just about denying what was in front of me; it was about erasing possibilities before they could even manifest. If an enemy moved, I could nullify their intent before they acted. It was the ultimate defense.


    And finally.


    Think New¡ªthe act of reshaping reality, of creating something entirely different by sheer force of will. Creation, innovation, breaking free from the constraints of what was known. This was where I could reshape my reality. If something didn¡¯t exist in this world, I could bring it into being. This was how I¡¯d written this world into existence in the first place, wasn¡¯t it? I had to learn how to apply that same creative force to my aura.


    It all felt strangely abstract, yet familiar. As if the concepts had been inside me all along, waiting to be unlocked. The more I meditated on them, the more I realized how critical they were. Not just for aura control, but for surviving what was coming.


    As cool as the alliteration sounded, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little off. The Trinity Thoughts weren¡¯t just techniques¡ªthey were a way of life. If I could fully integrate them, I¡¯d be prepared for anything. But it would take time, discipline, and, above all, the courage to face whatever I had written into this world.


    There was no going back now.

 13 Declaration of War

    I tucked my hood closer, concealing my face as I walked through the dimly lit streets. The Elsewhere Cult wasn¡¯t large, but what they lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in influence and power. They operated from the shadows, only stepping into the light when it suited them.


    In the novel, they were meant to be recurring villains, with the ''Prophet'' playing a major role in several arcs.


    I had every intention of taking the Prophet down, but for now, I had to focus on creating distractions¡ªsomething to throw off their pursuit. Information about their inner workings was scarce, even with my meta-knowledge. It felt like I was constantly one step behind.


    Their structure, as I remembered, was divided into three tiers: leadership, priesthood, and followers. The followers were mostly wealthy elites, people with enough money to buy their way into the cult but without the true initiation. They were pawns, essentially. The priesthood, however, was where the real danger lay. These people had survived alternate nightmare realities and returned with powers that made them formidable opponents. Every one of them was a walking disaster waiting to happen.


    I made my way through a narrow alley, my footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone walls. After a few turns, I found the steel door where I had arranged the meeting. Knocking twice, I waited. The small peephole slid open, and a pair of glowing, aura-infused eyes studied me carefully. A hunter, no doubt.


    "Come in," the voice grumbled from behind the door.


    I stepped inside, my senses immediately assaulted by the shift in atmosphere. The alley outside had been grim, reeking of decay and garbage, but this place was different. It was a Hunter-affiliated club, hidden behind a fa?ade of dilapidation.


    The room was dimly lit, but it thrummed with energy. Hunters gathered in groups, discussing jobs, exchanging information, or simply relaxing after a mission. Weapons lined the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. It was the kind of place you wouldn¡¯t find unless you knew exactly where to look¡ªand you certainly wouldn¡¯t want to find yourself on the wrong side of anyone here.


    I approached the bar, keeping my expression neutral, and signaled the bartender. ¡°I¡¯m here to meet people. Room 2022. Password: Never been a better time to cash in favors."


    The bartender gave me a once-over, nodding subtly. "Straight ahead, turn left, and you''ll see your room."


    "How many are they?" I asked, slipping a small ruby across the counter. In the hunter world, we avoided leaving traces, meaning no cash. Most transactions between hunters were done in hunter-approved gold coins, but small gemstones were acceptable currency too.


    He pocketed the gem without a second thought. "Four," he said quietly, not even looking up.


    I nodded, then turned and headed for the room. Four. That was good. It meant every single person I¡¯d called in was here. I¡¯d thought hard in arranging this, carefully selecting the ones who could actually make a difference. Each owed me, and tonight, I intended to cash in every debt they had.


    The hallway was dimly lit, the hum of distant conversation fading behind me. My steps were measured, slow, but inside, adrenaline had already started to churn. This meeting would set things in motion¡ªplans I had been turning over in my head since I found out the Elsewhere Cult was targeting my son. I wasn¡¯t just looking for help; I needed people who could fight, strategize, and¡ªif necessary¡ªkill.


    Turning left as the bartender instructed, I reached a heavy, reinforced door. I knocked twice, the sound dull against the thick metal. A moment later, the door creaked open, and I stepped inside.


    Four figures sat around a small table, their faces shadowed but familiar. I knew each one of them by name, reputation, and skill. These weren¡¯t just ordinary hunters; these were people who had made their marks in the hunter world, for better or worse.


    "Good to see you all," I said, closing the door behind me.


    Now, it was time to get to work.


    I stepped into the room, scanning the faces of the four people seated around the table. Each one had a distinct air of confidence and danger¡ªcharacters I had written about long before any of this became real.


    Rory Christen was the first I recognized. Petite with brown hair and freckles, she wore a simple one-piece, her seemingly innocent appearance hiding her true nature. A Seeker-type and Herb Hunter, Rory¡¯s ability Poison Cook allowed her to craft poisons that could be disguised in any edible form. She owed me two favors, and I was going to cash them both in tonight.


    Next was Grue. His helm and leather jacket made him look rough, and his lean frame was a testament to his Trickster-type skills. He was a Bounty Hunter with the sub-type of Torturer. His ability, Predation, was as deadly as it sounded. Once he marked his prey, he became invisible to them, stalking them until he struck. After killing his target, he absorbed their aura, healing himself and gaining strength. Grue owed me five favors¡ªmore than anyone else here.


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    Carlyle Ferns sat straight, as if posing for a portrait. Blonde, green-eyed, and wearing a crisp blue suit, he looked like a polished businessman. But beneath that sharp exterior was a deadly Caster-type with the ability Force Wall, summoning nearly immovable barriers. Carlyle was a Treasure Hunter by trade, his polished demeanor often misleading those who underestimated his skills. He owed me one favor.


    Lastly, there was Henry O. Notch. Bald with a scar running along his chin, his lanky frame was deceptive. Dressed in nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts, Henry¡¯s unassuming appearance hid the fact that he was a Speedster sub-type and Maker-type. His special ability Super Boots gave him incredible speed, allowing him to run up walls, stick to surfaces, and bounce between obstacles like a human pinball. He also owed me one favor.


    I approached the table and took the last seat. I didn¡¯t need to know their full capabilities¡ªsecondary types or sub-types. I knew enough to make this work.


    ¡°Well,¡± I began, leaning forward with my hands folded. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡±


    I pulled my hood down, revealing my face.


    Rory¡¯s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a low whistle.


    "I never knew the Author is such a handsome fella," she teased, her lips curving into a sly grin.


    ¡°Call me Rey instead,¡± I replied, brushing off the compliment. This wasn¡¯t the time for pleasantries. We had work to do, and time was running short.


    Carlyle leaned back in his chair, tapping his cane against the floor, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "So, what''s the job about?" he asked, his voice carrying that cool confidence he always exuded.


    I took a breath, meeting each of their gazes. "There''s a gala, tonight at 8 PM. It¡¯s going to be crawling with high-profile individuals, including members of the Elsewhere Cult. I¡¯m going to kill them all."


    The room fell silent. Rory¡¯s playful smirk disappeared, replaced by a more serious look. Grue¡¯s posture straightened, and I could almost feel the predatory excitement rolling off him. Carlyle¡¯s fingers drummed against the table, and Henry tilted his head, his expression unreadable.


    "You are free to back out," I continued, "but know this: if you do, your reputation will be tarnished. Your name will be known for someone whose favor is as fickle as they come. And in our world, that can be more dangerous than any enemy."


    Rory¡¯s eyes flicked to the others, gauging their reactions, before she spoke. ¡°So, we¡¯re talking full-scale massacre? Or are we targeting specific individuals?¡±


    ¡°Targeting specific members,¡± I clarified. ¡°But things will get messy. Once I start, there¡¯s no turning back. The goal is to force the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s attention onto me, make them think I¡¯m their biggest threat. I¡¯ll be going in first, drawing the fire. You support as needed, but no one leaves until the job¡¯s done.¡±


    Grue cracked his knuckles, a smile hidden beneath his helm. ¡°Sounds like my kind of fun. Who¡¯s the first one to die?¡±


    I leaned forward, placing my hands on the table. ¡°The Prophet¡¯s right-hand priest is rumored to be there. He¡¯s the priority. After that, we take down any other cult members present. They¡¯ll be disguised among the guests, but we¡¯ll know them.¡±


    Carlyle raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how exactly do we pick them out from the crowd?¡±


    I smiled, the kind that didn¡¯t reach my eyes. "I¡¯ve already set a trap for them. A small gift to the gala¡¯s organizer¡ªa cursed item the cult won¡¯t be able to resist inspecting. That¡¯ll be our marker."


    Rory nodded, finally leaning back in her chair. "Alright, Rey. I¡¯m in. Just tell me where to stand when the poison starts flowing."


    Grue followed with a curt nod. "I¡¯ll take care of the ones that run."


    Carlyle sighed, shaking his head but smiling slightly. "Guess there¡¯s no turning back, huh? I¡¯ll handle crowd control."


    Henry said nothing, but his smirk and the way he adjusted his boots told me he was ready.


    I stood up from the table, 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. And remember¡ªonce we start, we don¡¯t stop."


    The Elsewhere Cult would soon know what it meant to cross me, but the price to pay for their blood would be high. Too high, maybe.


    I took out my phone and sent the details of the plan to the shared folder. Everything was laid out¡ªescape routes, positions, target profiles, and the schedule. The others were sticking their necks out for me, risking their lives because they owed me. Favors were just among the few currency of the hunter world, and mine were among the most expensive. I had given them very rare information, some I practically saved their lives, and now I was cashing in.


    But still, I thought they might object. I¡¯d prepared gemstones just in case, figuring they could use the extra motivation. After all, nothing screamed commitment like a handful of precious stones. I''d recently sold off a few pieces of information to some rich mundanes to gather funds for this operation. It wasn¡¯t glamorous work, but it kept the gears turning, and more importantly, it kept Leon and Leora safe.


    A message pinged on my phone. It was Rory: "Plans received. Don''t worry, Rey. We''ll make it bloody."


    I smirked. Rory was always quick to reassure, but I knew the stakes. These weren¡¯t ordinary thugs we were going up against. The Elsewhere Cult was something I¡¯d written myself into a corner with¡ªa shadowy organization that would stop at nothing to achieve their twisted goals. Their Prophet¡¯s ability to see through time and space made him the most dangerous enemy I¡¯d ever created, even more terrifying now that I was living in this world.


    I tucked my phone back into my pocket and headed toward the train station. The gala would be starting soon, and I needed to be ready. Tonight, blood would be spilled¡ªwhether it was theirs or ours, only time would tell.


    As the train rattled into the station and I stepped on board, I couldn¡¯t help but glance at the reflection in the glass. ¡°Hmmm¡­ I guess, I am handsome after all¡­¡±


    The doors slid shut, and the train hummed as it pulled away. I leaned back in my seat, letting the motion rock me as I mentally went over every detail of the plan. Tonight was going to be brutal, but it had to be done. I was going to make sure the Elsewhere Cult regretted every moment they thought they could threaten my son.


    This was war, and I wasn¡¯t going down without a fight.

 14 Mysterious Author

    Carlyle thumped his cane on the floor, the sharp sound cutting through the room to get everyone''s attention. "What do you think? Is it worth one favor?"


    Rory crossed her arms, her voice tinged with skepticism. "Of course not. He''s asking us to kill hunters in such a public setting. That''s why he promised me he''d count it as two favors paid from me."


    Carlyle prided himself on his information network. He knew everyone in the room to some degree. Rory had a reputation for being honest, which was rare in their line of work. Despite her straightforwardness, she was more involved in the retail side of the hunter world, so it was unusual for her to appear personally on a job like this.


    Grue, leaning back in his chair, added with a casual shrug, "He also promised to count out two favors for this job."


    "Well," Henry chimed in, "I only owe the man one favor. If I do this, he''ll owe me one." He cracked his knuckles with a small grin playing on his face at the thought.


    Carlyle tapped his cane thoughtfully. "Same here, but he didn''t offer me anything extra or sweeten the deal."


    "Maybe you pissed him off," Rory said with a smirk, not missing the chance to needle him.


    Carlyle huffed, straightening his suit. "Doubt it. He''s too focused on this mission to hold grudges. I could tell. Besides, he needs me." He paused, his eyes sweeping the group. "Still, this job... it''s big. If we''re going to do it, we''d better be sure we''re getting something worth the risk."


    There was a buzz in Carlyle¡¯s breast pocket. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the plans that had just arrived. The others did the same, their attention now fully on the specifics of the mission.


    Rory let out a low whistle, the kind that signaled surprise and a bit of interest. "Three confirmed hunters and possibly a few unnamed. Hmm... looks like we¡¯ll need costumes too. I¡¯ll be a waitress." She smirked, already visualizing her role.


    Henry snorted. "And I¡¯m going to be a valet." He cracked his knuckles. "Kill anyone who tries to escape."


    Grue remained silent, his eyes scanning the details of the plan with the same detached expression he always wore. He didn¡¯t need to say much. His presence alone signified agreement.


    Carlyle studied the plan further, noting the careful layers and contingencies. He closed his phone with a quiet snap, addressing the room. "I see why my work for this job is worth a single favor now." He tapped his cane lightly on the floor. "I won¡¯t be in the thick of it¡ªno direct risk. I¡¯ll be positioned on the floor above the gala, my job is to block off the exits. Simple, clean. My disguise? Just another businessman looking for a hotel room to crash in."


    Rory beamed as she snapped her flip phone shut and tucked it away. ¡°Thankfully, I won¡¯t be doing any killing. Just lacing the food with sleeping agents, enough to knock out even hunters.¡±


    Carlyle nodded, quietly acknowledging the danger of working with someone like Rory. Poison users were unpredictable, and he made a mental note to tread carefully around her. People like Rory didn¡¯t need brute strength to be lethal.


    Grue spoke up, his voice steady but cold. ¡°Once everyone¡¯s knocked out, the Author will handle the killing himself. I¡¯m just here to bodyguard him.¡±


    Henry¡¯s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. ¡°Oh shit, it is personal, isn¡¯t it?¡± he nearly shouted.


    The Author¡­ or "Rey" as he preferred to be called, had risen to fame quickly in the past two years, renowned for his unusual system of never accepting money as an information broker. Instead, he dealt only in favors or information of equal value. Carlyle had initially found the name "Author" to be presumptuous, even arrogant. But now, seeing how Rey orchestrated this entire operation, he understood why the man dared to take such a title.


    ¡°What do you think his aura type is?¡± Rory asked, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward.


    ¡°You do know as professionals, we shouldn¡¯t pry into our client¡¯s personal affairs, right?¡± Grue admonished, his tone stern, though not surprised at Rory¡¯s nosiness.


    Henry, never one for restraint, chipped in. ¡°My bet¡¯s a Reader. Makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Carlyle nodded slightly, sharing Henry''s theory. It lined up. For someone who worked alone, gathering and selling information on the Hunter¡¯s Net, and for his ability to predict and manipulate situations, a high-level Reader seemed the most plausible. Carlyle tapped his cane against the floor thoughtfully. ¡°Yes, a Reader does fit. Someone like him, with a limited or rare type, especially at a high level... it makes sense. That¡¯s why the name ¡®Author¡¯ is starting to make more sense to me now.¡±


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The others looked at Carlyle as he spoke, sensing his deeper understanding. Rey wasn¡¯t just some upstart broker. He was someone who saw the world like a story, controlling the flow of events like an author writing the chapters of a book. And right now, they were all part of his latest narrative.


    Carlyle didn¡¯t mind, not as long as the favor he owed would be squared by the end of the night. But there was something about Rey that made him think¡ªthis was not just a one-off job.


    ¡°Anyone heard of the name ¡®Elsewhere Cult¡¯?¡± Carlyle asked, his brow furrowing in frustration. ¡°No matter what, I can¡¯t find anything on them. That¡¯s rare even for me, and I¡¯ve got a lot of friends.¡±


    Henry shook his head. ¡°Never really tried, but yeah, I got nothing.¡±


    Grue leaned back in his seat, 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 said, his voice edged with frustration. ¡°But the job was stolen from me.¡±


    Henry sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. ¡°I¡¯m not really keen on the Hunter News, but last I heard, some crazy whackjobs called the Undead Troupe started showing up.¡±


    At the mention of the Undead Troupe, Grue¡¯s aura darkened. He snarled, ¡°They¡¯re the ones who stole the job from me. Tried to recruit me afterward too, but I gave them the middle finger. Had to run the gauntlet against them once, and I almost didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    Carlyle¡¯s eyes narrowed at Grue¡¯s words. The Undead Troupe had been making waves recently, their fame almost as fresh as the Author¡¯s. ¡°So we pretty much know nothing about the Elsewhere Cult?¡± Carlyle concluded, his tone more resigned than he liked.


    Rory, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. ¡°Sounds like the kind of group that works in the shadows, pulling strings where we can¡¯t see them. Probably by design.¡±


    Carlyle tapped his cane thoughtfully against the floor. A group that even his network couldn''t crack was dangerous, and it worried him.


    And if the Author¡¯s got a grudge against them¡­ Carlyle thought, tapping his cane rhythmically, then yeah, it probably wouldn¡¯t be a one-off job.


    Henry broke the silence first, shrugging casually. ¡°As long as we¡¯re not killing mundanes, I¡¯m pretty much okay with anything.¡±


    Rory grinned, teasing him. ¡°Oooh, we¡¯ve got 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 dangerous. ¡°If a fight starts, I¡¯ll aim to kill them in one blow. No loose ends.¡±


    Carlyle eyed Grue for a moment. He had no doubt the man could back up his words. Grue wasn¡¯t the type to play around, especially with high-stakes jobs like this. The idea of taking out hunters¡ªpeople as skilled and dangerous as they were¡ªdidn¡¯t sit easily with Carlyle, but favors were favors, and the Author had always paid his debts.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be ready,¡± Carlyle finally said, glancing at the others. ¡°No direct risk for me, but I¡¯ll keep the exits blocked. 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 over her head. ¡°Fine by me. I just hope Rey doesn¡¯t get too trigger-happy. Poison¡¯s no fun when someone messes up my timing.¡±


    Henry smirked. ¡°As long as the sleeping agents work, you won¡¯t have to worry.¡±


    Carlyle shifted his weight, gripping the head of his cane tighter. ¡°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 silent again. There was a shared understanding between them. They were professionals, but even professionals could get caught in the crossfire of something bigger than themselves.


    Rory stood up abruptly. ¡°I need to get my costume and infiltrate an hour earlier.¡±


    ¡°Same here,¡± added Henry as he followed her lead.


    The two hunters left the room, leaving Carlyle and Grue behind. Carlyle leaned back in his chair, his mind on something else entirely. He turned to Grue, a hunter renowned for his anonymity and lethal reputation in the hunter world¡ªa Trickster-type, known for his combat prowess, which was rare for his class.


    ¡°What do you think of Rey? His aura?¡± Carlyle asked, hoping to get some insight from someone as sharp as Grue.


    Grue took a moment before replying. ¡°Too subdued. You¡¯d almost think he was a mundane. If it was some sort 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, intrigued, pressed further. ¡°How about any signs of training?¡±


    Grue shook his head. ¡°None. His stance was off¡ªpoor, even. Or maybe he was faking it. But he¡¯s built, I¡¯ll give him that. I could tell he¡¯s killed a man before. My special ability... it lets me know these things. Of course, I¡¯d ask you not to mention that to anyone. Normally, if someone¡¯s hiding their aura, you need to get close, maybe touch them, to 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¡¯re as good as uncertain.¡±


    Carlyle raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s high praise coming from you.¡±


    Grue leaned back as he spoke. ¡°You¡¯ve asked your questions. Now, you owe me a favor.¡±


    Carlyle sighed, knowing this was coming. ¡°As long as it isn¡¯t excessive, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Grue¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change, but there was a hint 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.¡±


    Carlyle gave a wry smile. ¡°Sure, I can do that.¡±


    For a consultation with someone as elusive as Grue, that was a rather fair price.

 15 First Blood

    I had pulled a lot more favors than I liked for this operation, all in an attempt to distract the Elsewhere Cult. The item in my hand was one of those favors. I secured the replica of Mariah Morey in my briefcase. It was a cursed statue, and I planned to use it as bait for this operation. I already knew beforehand that the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s priests would be gathering here, and this statue was just the way to provoke more of them into attending the gala.


    After the security frisked me, they let me in.


    The guards seemed more interested in keeping an eye on the crowd than thoroughly checking the guests. I slipped through easily. My clothing was also from one of the favors owed to me. The suit and tie looked clean and sharp, fitting me perfectly. Moreover, they were responsive to aura and durable too, a nice little touch to keep me safe amidst the deaths I was about to unleash.


    I moved through the crowd, the music pulsing around me, and the mingling chatter blending into a low hum. Everyone here was oblivious to the storm brewing just beneath the surface. I kept my gaze steady, scanning the room for any sign of the cultists. I had to remain focused; the plan depended on it.


    Rory¡¯s voice crackled through my earpiece. ¡°In position, had the right poison ready.¡±


    Grue chimed in, ¡°On standby.¡±


    Henry added, ¡°I detected two others not from the list, probably part of the gala too.¡±


    Carlyle¡¯s voice came next, ¡°Still waiting on the line¡­¡±


    Just then, a pudgy man approached me. I recognized him as one of the followers of the Elsewhere Cult, their source of funds. It was Eric Lannister. ¡°I am glad you made it, Mr. Wells,¡± he said, his voice smooth but lacking sincerity. He was bald and big, with a demeanor that screamed self-importance.


    Mr. Wells was an alias I had just prepared for this meeting, a face to hide behind as I navigated this treacherous game.


    ¡°The package is here. Is there any way I can meet the clients?¡± I asked with a casual tone.


    ¡°I apologize, but that can¡¯t do. I will pay you now; how much?¡± he replied, his eyes darting around as if he feared being overheard.


    ¡°I want to meet them.¡± I kept my expression steady, unwilling to let him sense any hesitation.


    Eric¡¯s eyes narrowed, assessing me. ¡°That¡¯s not how this works, Mr. Wells. I assure you, you¡¯ll be compensated handsomely without any face-to-face interaction.¡±


    "That¡¯s unfortunate," I remarked with a hint of a smirk. "You don¡¯t mind me staying a bit longer to enjoy the gala, do you?"


    Eric¡¯s face twisted into a forced smile. "Of course! You are a valued guest," he replied, though his eyes betrayed the faintest glimmer of suspicion.


    I handed him the briefcase, letting my fingers linger on it for just a moment longer than necessary.


    Mariah Morey. The name echoed in my mind as the weight of the briefcase shifted into Eric¡¯s hands. It wasn¡¯t just some cursed statue; it was much more than that. The story of Mariah Morey was whispered among the dark corners of the Hunter world. An old member of the Elsewhere Cult, she had vanished into the Forbidden Region and returned, only to be turned into stone. What Eric didn¡¯t know¡ªwhat none of them knew¡ªwas that the real Mariah Morey was no longer just a statue. That replica had cost me a favor or two, but it was worth it.


    "Two hundred million credits," I said, my voice calm, steady. "That¡¯s how much I want."


    Eric¡¯s brow furrowed, and for a moment, his confident facade cracked. He blinked rapidly, taken aback by the sheer audacity of my demand. "Two... two hundred million?" he stammered, his smile faltering.


    I nodded, keeping my face impassive. "That¡¯s right. 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."


    He shifted uneasily, glancing around before leaning in closer. "Mr. Wells, I hope you''re not trying to extort us. That would be... unwise." His voice dropped to a low growl, trying to mask the fear behind his words.


    I leaned back slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Not extortion, Eric. Just good business."


    His gaze flicked to the briefcase, then back to me, weighing his options. But we both knew he had no choice. Not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders¡ªand the Cult off his back.


    "I will send you the money right away," Eric muttered, clearly rattled by the unexpected price tag. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the piece of paper I handed him, my Hunter bank account number scrawled on it.


    I watched him with a casual indifference as he fumbled to enter the details, his fingers trembling slightly. The Hunter bank was one of the most secure systems in existence¡ªstrictly off the grid by mundane standards. Transactions there left no trail for mundanes or even most hunters. Perfect for jobs like this.


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    A small buzz from my own phone confirmed the transfer. Two hundred million credits, just like that.


    "Pleasure doing business," I said with a smirk, pocketing my phone.


    Eric gave a weak smile in return, though his face remained pale. "I... hope we can do more business in the future, Mr. Wells."


    "Perhaps," I replied, already thinking of my next move. But this wasn''t the time for more small talk. The gala was still in full swing, and I had other plans for the evening. Plans that didn¡¯t involve smiling for the Cult¡¯s wallets.


    As Eric walked off, likely to report to his superiors about the transaction, I sent a quick message to Rory.


    ¡°Money secured. Proceed.¡±


    Her reply came swiftly: "Understood. Lacing the rest of the food. Give me ten minutes."


    I scanned the crowd, spotting some of the more prominent figures mingling among the guests, their auras quietly humming beneath the surface. There were at least three hunters here I hadn¡¯t expected, all of them likely hired by the Cult as extra security. Not a problem though¡ªjust more pieces to the puzzle.


    ¡°Grue, keep an eye on the security team. There are a few extras. Rory¡¯s finishing the prep now. We move soon.¡±


    His response was a single word: ¡°Got it.¡±


    "Carlyle, are you in position yet?" I asked through the comms, keeping my voice steady despite the sudden spike in tension.


    "Just landed... tell me when you need the walls," came his calm reply.


    Henry¡¯s voice followed almost immediately after. "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."


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel a wave of relief at that. Henry¡¯s detection abilities, while not on par with a true Tracker-type, were still invaluable. Picking him up for this job had already paid off.


    "Good. Stay hidden," I muttered, my mind racing. The situation had escalated faster than I anticipated. Thirteen additional hunters. That wasn¡¯t just a small bump; that was enough to turn this gala into a bloodbath if things went sideways.


    Then Rory chimed in. "My poison can be remotely activated when I want. Just give me the word."


    I already knew that, but it didn¡¯t hurt for the rest of the team to hear it. This was no longer just about me pulling strings; they had to feel like they had some control in the chaos that was about to unfold. It was good for morale.


    "Understood, Rory. Hold for now." I glanced around, keeping my posture relaxed, like I was just another attendee enjoying the event. But inside, I was recalculating. With the extra hunters on site, this wasn¡¯t just about causing a distraction anymore¡ªthis was about survival.


    "Everyone stay sharp. We move in ten."


    Ten.


    People continued eating, drinking, and chatting, oblivious to what was about to unfold.


    Nine.


    I moved through the crowd, playing the part of a guest, shaking hands, exchanging meaningless pleasantries.


    Eight.


    More people arrived, and my suspicions grew with each new face¡ªhunters, clearly, blending into the gathering. They were members of the priesthood.


    Seven.


    I positioned myself in a dim corner, far from the center of attention. Patience.


    Six.


    They continued with their meals, drinks, and conversations, completely unaware.


    Five.


    Eric kept up his role as the gracious host, mingling and laughing with the new arrivals.


    Four.


    Then I spotted him. One of the main targets¡ªthe right-hand of the Prophet. His eyes met mine, and I think he recognized me.


    Three.


    Rory¡¯s voice crackled through the comms. ¡°Everyone in the gala has fed on my aura.¡±


    Two.


    I gave the word, my voice steady. ¡°Do it.¡±


    One.


    Grue entered the room, as planned, helmet on, leather jacket blending with the evening¡¯s attire.


    Carlyle¡¯s invisible force walls went up, silently sealing off all exits. No one would be leaving.


    Zero.


    One by one, the guests at the gala began to collapse, their bodies hitting the floor in a slow, synchronized cascade. The poisoned food had worked perfectly¡ªhunters, priests, and followers alike, falling into unconsciousness, completely vulnerable.


    The real work was about to begin.


    Henry¡¯s voice flared over the comms. ¡°Two managed to get away¡­ I killed one of them. The other managed to run. Do I pursue?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied firmly. ¡°Stay where you are and kill anyone else who tries to escape.¡±


    I let out a slow breath. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it wasn¡¯t catastrophic either. One getting away was acceptable¡ªit would spread the word, make the Elsewhere Cult more paranoid. A controlled leak, in a way.


    If anything, I wanted them to feel hunted. Dragging the Elsewhere Cult out of the shadows and into the light was the secondary goal, and a survivor would help stir the pot. I just needed to handle the rest of this cleanly.


    Grue handed me the knife without a word, and I took it. The cold weight in my hand felt like the culmination of everything I had planned. I kneeled beside one of the mundanes who had collapsed and pried open his lower lip. Sure enough, the serial numbers were there. A mark of the Elsewhere Cult.


    Without hesitation, I slit his throat.


    Grue stood over me, watching. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything about killing ordinary people,¡± he commented, with his normally flat voice.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t ordinary,¡± I replied, wiping the blade. ¡°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 stood, handing him the knife back. ¡°Go on, help me finish this. But leave the hunters to me. Just remember, check for the serial numbers on the lower lips before you kill.¡±


    I walked over to the unconscious hunter, my eyes drawn to the dagger sheathed at her hip. I picked it up, admiring the craftsmanship. Its balance was perfect, its edge sharp enough to draw blood with the slightest touch. But it wasn¡¯t the weapon that intrigued me¡ªit was the woman lying beneath it.


    She was playing dead. I knew because of my Soul Link. The Soul Link only connected with those who were aware of my presence, meaning she was awake if I could perceive and temporarily steal her illusion attribute. The clever thing was, I had hidden the link behind her own aura, a trick most hunters would never notice all thanks to the Soul Link.


    I felt her aura pulse faintly as I took it, returning it just as quickly. But I wasn¡¯t done. Using her own aura against her, I amplified her pain. The illusion attribute was perfect for this¡ªturning even a slight wound into an excruciating experience. I stabbed her just above the heart, not deep enough to kill, but enough to send searing pain through her body.


    My Soul Link told me just how deep I should stab. The illusion attribute was giving me some sort of spatial awareness of her insides. Convenient.


    ¡°Aaagh~!¡± she cried, her body tensing as she tried to fight back, but I was already on her. One knee pinning her leg, one hand holding her arm down.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± I said, leaning close. ¡°An inch deeper, and I¡¯ll hit your arteries. Your illusion attribute, though¡­ what a waste. Tricksters with half your ability would be doing far more creative things.¡±


    I twisted the blade slightly, watching her writhe in pain. ¡°Now, tell me¡ªwhere is the Prophet?¡±

 16 Mission Complete

    I twisted the blade slightly, watching her writhe in pain. ¡°Now, tell me¡ªwhere is the Prophet?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t say a word to a mongrel like you¡ª¡± she spat, her voice dripping with defiance.


    I sighed, grabbing a fistful of her hair with one hand and tugging her head back, exposing her lips. With my free hand, I felt along her lower lip and, just as I expected, there were the serial numbers. She wasn¡¯t just another hunter; she was deeply entrenched in the cult.


    ¡°You know what?¡± I said, meeting her hate-filled gaze. ¡°I believe you.¡±


    Without hesitation, I plunged the dagger deeper, feeling the resistance of flesh give way as her body jerked once, then went still.


    Couldn¡¯t blame a guy for trying to get a confession.


    I finished off the remaining unconscious hunters with precise, methodical movements¡ªslicing their throats, then puncturing the base of their skulls to ensure they were truly gone. Being extra careful should pay off, right? It was surprisingly easier than I had anticipated. Grue was almost done on his side too. So this was the power of information and preparedness¡ªknowing your enemies'' weaknesses before the fight even started.


    Just as I wiped the blood from my knife, I felt it¡ªa sudden surge of aura. My attention snapped to the source. It was the Prophet¡¯s right-hand man, the one I had just killed. His aura flared wildly, rising like a storm as his last-ditch effort to destroy everything around him kicked in. He was trying to blow this place sky-high.


    I immediately activated my Soul Link, borrowing his aura. It equalized between us, and I felt the raw energy swelling inside him, his explosive attribute clear as day. He was pouring everything into one massive, suicidal blast, his aura multiplying as it often did in the face of death.


    But I wasn¡¯t about to let that happen.


    I returned his aura to him just before the critical point. But instead of letting him detonate, I used his own aura to sabotage the explosion, turning it inward. In an instant, his body began to implode, collapsing in on itself like a balloon with nowhere to release the pressure. His eyes widened in shock and then¡ªsilence.


    It was over before he even realized what had happened.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Grue¡¯s voice came out shaky, clearly caught off guard by the sudden turn of events.


    I ignored him, keeping my expression neutral. There was no reason to advertise my abilities, especially when I hadn¡¯t fully mastered them. Information was power, and there were still things I preferred to keep to myself.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said, wiping my hands on my suit jacket.


    As we made our way out, Henry was already waiting outside, driving a white van. Carlyle and Rory were sitting inside, both looking relaxed, as if they hadn¡¯t just been part of a massacre.


    I opened the door and got in. ¡°So,¡± I asked casually, ¡°where do you guys want to eat? My treat.¡±


    In the end, they passed up on my offer.


    Carlyle had other business to attend to. Grue seemed disappointed, muttering about how he didn¡¯t get to do much compared to the others. Henry mentioned that it was his wife¡¯s death anniversary, so he had plans of his own. Rory said she¡¯d come if the others were up for it, but that didn¡¯t happen.


    As soon as I got back to my current safe house, I wasted no time. I called in a favor to a hunter-run funeral home¡ªone that specialized in discreet burials.


    After that, I started packing. Time to move.


    Where to next?


    The Capital City.


    This world operated under a single unified government called the Union. Playing as one of its checks and balances was the Hunter¡¯s Association. Their main headquarters was located in the Capital City.


    It was almost time for the upcoming Hunters¡¯ Examination.


    As an unofficial hunter, I was locked out of a lot of things¡ªlike exploring the Forbidden Region, for example. But more than that, it was about trust. If I had renown and an official hunter¡¯s license, it would be easier to gain people''s trust. I couldn¡¯t rely solely on favors forever.


    The license would also unlock a ton of resources for me. My bank account, for instance, would be more secure. I could also link up with Leora¡¯s old contacts, a network I might need soon. I hoped she was doing well¡­ at least better than being stuck on that mountain.


    The travel to the Capital City took an entire week, with all the driving, delays, and the flight itself. By the time I finally arrived, I was dead tired. The first thing I did was find a high-class motel and crash for what felt like an eternity.


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    I woke up in the middle of the night, groggy, confused, and hearing my phone ringing. I sat up, heart pounding a bit faster than usual, a sense of foreboding creeping in. I had a hunch who it might be, and reluctantly picked it up.


    ¡°How did you get this number?¡± I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.


    ¡°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 was angry. Very angry.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare hang up on me, Reynard!¡±


    I hung up the phone without a second thought, her voice cutting off mid-sentence. My head hit the pillow, and I turned off the phone completely. Whatever she wanted, I wasn¡¯t in the mood to deal with it right now.


    The room was dark and quiet. The sound of the air conditioner was barely noticeable as I closed my eyes. Sleep came easily, despite the lingering guilt and the weight of the conversation I had just cut short. I knew it would come back to bite me, but for now, I just needed the rest.


    I woke up to a strange sensation, a tickle in my ear that dragged me from the depths of sleep. Opening my eyes, I saw a familiar face hovering above me¡ªblonde hair, blue eyes, and that sly, knowing smile.


    My breath caught for a second, but then my instincts kicked in. This wasn''t her.


    ¡°You''re not my wife,¡± I said flatly, staring into her deceitful eyes.


    I could tell by her aura no matter how good it was and how mirror-perfect it was.


    The woman blinked, feigning innocence, her lips curling into a pout. "Oh, Rey, how could you say that?" She paused for dramatic effect, her hands going to her clothes. "It looks like you¡¯ve forgotten what your wife looks like. Here, let me remind you."


    I caught her wrist before she could finish her little act. Her fake blush didn¡¯t fool me for a second. It was all a performance.


    ¡°Trickster type. Shapeshifter. Information Hunter¡­ Selena Fair,¡± I said, my voice hard. "How did you know my wife?"


    The sly smile returned. This time, it was more genuine¡ªshe knew I wasn¡¯t playing along with her games.


    She leaned in, her hand pressing against my chest, her face inches from mine. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re too good for that klutz¡­¡± she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.


    At least she wasn¡¯t hostile. But her proximity was setting off alarms in my head, and this situation was becoming more troublesome by the second. The reason it had taken me years to realize I¡¯d married the protagonist¡¯s mom from the novel was that Leora was an obscure character, barely even mentioned. So, I had no clue what kind of history this woman in front of me had with her.


    She stroked my cheek gently, playing her part to the fullest.


    But enough was enough.


    I caught her wrist with my free hand and, in one smooth motion, I attempted a judo throw to put some distance between us. Unfortunately, she was quicker than I anticipated. As I threw her, she twisted mid-air like a snake, slipped from my grip, and managed to make me fall flat on my face. 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 with the grace of a cat, bouncing backward. She flashed the phone at me, showing the selfie¡ªa shot of her in a revealing outfit, kissing my cheek, cleavage prominently on display. She grinned, clicked "send," and in an instant, her disguise melted away, revealing her true form: dark brown hair, green eyes, and that same mischievous smile.


    ¡°Selena Fair,¡± I muttered under my breath, grinding my teeth.


    The next second, Selena''s phone rang with a careless whisper ringtone. She raised an eyebrow, answering it and putting it on speaker.


    ¡°You wench! You dare!? I will chop you up into a million pieces¡ª¡± It was Leora, her voice seething with fury. ¡°Feed you to the pigs, have them shit you out, and then I¡¯ll bury you six feet underground¡ª¡±


    Leora''s rant continued, her threats growing increasingly creative, but after ten more seconds of it, I¡¯d had enough.


    ¡°Selena,¡± I snapped, cutting through the tirade, ¡°what is your relationship with Leora?¡±


    Selena smiled innocently, completely unfazed. ¡°Oh, she owes me a husband.¡±


    Leora practically exploded through the phone, her voice almost shaking with anger.


    ¡°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! CLEANSE IT FROM YOUR MIND!¡±


    I rubbed my temples, already feeling a headache forming. Selena grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos she had stirred up.


    "I didn¡¯t violate anything, Leora. If anything, he enjoyed it," Selena teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.


    I groaned. "Selena, enough. Leora, calm down."


    Leora ignored me, continuing her tirade. "WASH IT NOW, REY! OR I¡¯LL DO IT MYSELF WHEN I FIND YOU!"


    I glanced at Selena, who shrugged as if to say What can you do?


    "Selena," I said, trying to get a straight answer out of her, "just tell me¡ªwhat do you really want?"


    Selena''s playful expression faltered for a moment. "Honestly? I just wanted to see what made you so special. You¡¯ve been off the radar for a while¡­ and Leora wouldn¡¯t shut up about you." She paused, then grinned again. "Turns out, you''re fun."


    Leora''s yelling resumed in the background, but I just sighed, already tired of this entire situation.


    "I''m hanging up now," Selena said with a wink at me, as if ready to end the call on Leora, my wife, right then and there. She didn¡¯t hang up, though. Instead, she continued, speaking in a sing-song, seductive voice while staying right in place. ¡°Oh, Rey, forget about that boring wife of yours! You can have me instead. I can become anything you want, everything you desire¡­ Want to do cosplay? I can do the highest level of cosplay.¡±


    Then Selena took it a notch higher, dropping 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¡­¡±


    I heard Leora shriek on the other end, ¡°AAAAAH~AAAH!¡±


    ¡°Stop traumatizing my wife¡­¡± I muttered, facepalming.


    ¡°Please, Rey! Tell me you didn¡¯t do anything with her,¡± Leora begged.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± I replied flatly.


    Selena cut in with a mischievous grin, ¡°We wrestled, though¡ªin bed.¡±


    ¡°I threw her out¡ª¡± I started to explain, but Selena cut me off again.


    ¡°And then I went under his crotch after he held me down by the wrists. Then we kissed,¡± she added before ending the call abruptly.


    ¡°You are a demon. You know that?¡± I said, feeling exasperated down to my bones.


    I borrowed Selena¡¯s aura, and it automatically equalized. I took her disguise attribute, then returned her aura¡ªthis time with the disguise attribute added, transforming her into a little girl.


    ¡°Eh? W-what happened?¡± She looked around, utterly confused.


    I walked over, took the phone from her, called the last number, turned off the speaker, and spoke to Leora. ¡°So, why exactly is she here?¡±


    ¡°DON¡¯T FALL FOR THAT VIXEN¡¯S TRICKS, OR I WILL DIVORCE YOU!¡±


    I winced.

 17 Three Years?

    ¡°Are you for real? Divorce?¡± I was flabbergasted. ¡°You do know I¡¯m the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to you, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± she replied in a small, diminished voice. ¡°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!¡±


    I went silent.


    Technically, I wasn¡¯t a hunter when everything happened. Even now, I wasn¡¯t really a hunter. Leora was probably losing her mind when the assassination attempt on our lives set everything in motion.


    I felt bad for lying to my wife, but I couldn¡¯t exactly tell her the truth.


    There was no point in arguing any further. I needed to focus on my priorities. ¡°Can I have Stefan¡¯s contact number?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Sure¡­¡±


    That was surprisingly easy. ¡°No questions?¡± Like how I even knew the name of her contacts or anything?


    ¡°Of course, I trust you, because you¡¯re my husband. 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.


    Leora asked, ¡°Also, how in the hell does our son have aura?¡±


    Oh shit¡­ I must¡¯ve screwed up somewhere. ¡°Uuh¡­ it showed up when he was two months old, the day of the attack.¡± I forgot to tell her.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to mention that to me when you basically dropped him on me, declaring you¡¯d handle the hunting instead. What¡¯s your progress, anyway?¡±


    I could feel her anger seething through the phone. I remembered her flashback in the story about how she slaughtered the mercenaries who had tried to assassinate us¡ªa corporate-style group called Oval, filled with hunters and heavily armed mundanes. She¡¯d made a public warning to the hunter world, swearing to slaughter anyone who took a job hunting her or our family. That bought me and baby Leon some time.


    I cleared my throat, faking a cough. ¡°Well, I at least have the name of their group, and 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, and it¡¯s only been barely over a month¡­¡± she commented.


    I would¡¯ve preferred to take down the Prophet where he was based, but he was a powerful Reader with ridiculously strong clairvoyance¡ªand a bodyguard with danger sense. Not to mention¡­ elite guards. If only I could just drop a nuke on him. Even if I called in every favor owed to me and sent every ally at him, I¡¯d still fall short.


    To ensure his demise, I¡¯d need the Hunter Association at my back. After getting my Hunter¡¯s license, I planned to start climbing the Association¡¯s ranks. Once high enough, I should be able to issue a Hunt Order.


    I told my wife, ¡°It¡¯ll take me over three years to start hunting those after our son. My declaration of war a few days ago should be enough to make me a target. If they send more after me and try to kill me, it means the Prophet has likely foreseen I¡¯ll succeed. If they back off, then I¡¯ll regroup with you, and we¡¯ll come up with another plan.¡±


    ¡°Three years is a long time,¡± Leora lamented. ¡°I¡¯ve only been gone for two years, and look how much he¡¯s grown¡­¡±


    My heart twisted. I knew my future¡ªI¡¯d die within the next eight years. But screw the canon event. I¡¯d fight fate head-on, and I intended to win. The Elsewhere Cult wasn¡¯t some small-time group; that¡¯s why I needed the Hunter¡¯s Association backing me.


    Even the cult couldn¡¯t infiltrate the Association with hostile intentions; that was just the kind of place it was. The Association¡¯s chairman wasn¡¯t just one of the top aura users but a fair and formidable man.


    ¡°How¡¯s Leon?¡± I asked.


    ¡°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, he¡¯s a Caster, right? He made this giant fireball the size of a basketball and completely incinerated my bike,¡± she said, sounding equal parts proud and heartbroken.


    I gave a wry smile. ¡°I hope no one was hurt.¡±


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    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t ignore me!¡± Selena, still trapped in her diminutive form, was punching me on the knees. Her aura had always been on the weaker side, and now, with her shrunken body, she couldn¡¯t use any of her techniques to cause me real trouble. ¡°Don¡¯t ignore me! Give me back my beautiful body!¡±


    ¡°Leora, what am I supposed to do with Selena? Honestly, I¡¯d rather not have her around¡­¡± I had a feeling I understood why Leora sent her to me.


    ¡°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¡­


    Leora continued, ¡°I don¡¯t trust that Jacob guy to watch your back, 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¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, no one¡¯s getting me in bed.¡±


    I knew Selena¡¯s personality. She had an obsession bordering on the insane when it came to finding her soulmate. Her actions might seem frivolous, naughty, and a bit untrustworthy, but she was a woman of her word, driven by dreams of romance.


    Leora added, ¡°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, huh? That was news to me¡­


    Leora¡¯s voice softened just before hanging up. ¡°I¡¯ll give you Stefan¡¯s contact info.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, grateful she was backing me up despite everything Selena had stirred up.


    ¡°Stay safe,¡± she added, a hint of worry slipping through.


    ¡°Same goes for you. Give Leon extra kisses from me,¡± I told her, thinking of our son and how much I missed him.


    There was a brief pause. ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I replied, meaning every word.


    ¡°Bye.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, until then.¡±


    The line clicked off, and I was left with the quiet hum of the empty room.


    As the effect of my technique finally wore off, Selena snapped back into her original form with a faint puff of smoke. She scowled, annoyance radiating off her. ¡°Damn it! Finally! What kind of freaky technique is that?¡± She shot me a pointed glare, sticking out her tongue. ¡°All that ¡®I love this, I love you that,¡¯ ugh! Couples are overrated!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a riot,¡± I replied dryly, grabbing my briefcase, already packed and waiting. ¡°Pack up; we¡¯re moving.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°The Hunter¡¯s Examination venue.¡±


    I stood outside the hotel, trying to hail a cab, but no luck so far. That was the Capital City for you. At some point, Selena just vanished. Suddenly, a bright yellow sports car screeched to a stop in front of me, and the window slid down.


    ¡°Hop in, handsome,¡± Selena¡¯s voice drifted out.


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°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.


    I chuckled and opened the door. ¡°Alright, fine. But only because you insisted.¡±


    The drive was rather quiet until Selena finally broke the silence, her tone shifting to something unexpectedly serious. ¡°So, you¡¯re an unofficial hunter,¡± she stated, glancing at me sideways.


    I studied her, weighing her words and her gaze. I remembered Selena Fair from the novel¡ªan unpredictable character, joining organizations in her endless search for her soulmate, only to betray them when her interests changed. She even wound up in the Undead Troupe, though she eventually turned on them too. It made me wonder if she¡¯d eventually betray me. But then, there was that unfinished backstory I¡¯d written for her¡ªa sister she cared about deeply, though I¡¯d never expanded on who that sister was. Maybe, in this world, fate had corrected that oversight, making her my wife¡¯s sister.


    Well, not blood sister.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said finally. ¡°I¡¯m unofficial. But then, so are you.¡±


    The hunter community was loose in hierarchy and structure, so being unlicensed didn¡¯t have significant disadvantages. I could still access the Hunter Association¡¯s resources if I leveraged the right clout and connections behind the scenes. The licensure exam mainly served to connect mundanes with the hunter world. My reason for going through with it was simple¡ªI needed to infiltrate the Association and turn it to my advantage.


    Leora was right¡ªthree years was a long time, and our enemies wouldn¡¯t idle in that span. They¡¯d likely grow weary of me eventually, but as long as Leora stayed alert, she¡¯d be safe. My phone buzzed, and I saw Leora''s message: Stefan¡¯s number, with a note that she¡¯d let him know I¡¯d be in touch. I texted back, ¡®Okay, got it.¡¯


    Meanwhile, Selena¡¯s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust the Association,¡± she said, her tone sharper. ¡°I hate the idea of affiliating with them or their way of sharing knowledge about aura to whoever. The mundane and hunter worlds should stay separate. What¡¯s next¡ªmilitarizing hunters?¡±


    ¡°The government already tried and failed at that,¡± I replied. ¡°That¡¯s why the Association exists: to manage relations between hunters and mundanes.¡± I glanced over. ¡°If you¡¯re so against it, you don¡¯t have to come along.¡±


    ¡°Nah, your wife¡¯s orders,¡± she said, grinning. ¡°She wants me to babysit you. Not that I doubt you can handle yourself, but the exam lasts about a week¡ªlong enough for something to go wrong. You could get killed in that time.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. The Elsewhere Cult could easily use this event to send in assassins masked as other candidates. Having backup wouldn¡¯t hurt.


    I had three months of intense aura training and barely a month of on-the-ground experience using it in something close to combat situations. Despite all the theories I¡¯d mastered, there was only so much theory could do. This licensure exam wasn¡¯t just a ticket into the Association¡ªit was a real shot at leveling up my skills.


    In this world, strength wasn¡¯t defined by clean-cut power levels, so I couldn¡¯t gauge exactly how strong I was.


    ¡°Hey, Selena, any chance you can train me in combat whenever we¡¯ve got downtime?¡±


    She flashed a mischievous smirk. ¡°Oh, I can do so much more than that~!¡±


    I sighed. Trust her to twist my words like that. But then she shifted gears, taking on a more serious tone.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re not much on the practical combat side? Guess that makes sense if you¡¯re usually the type hiding behind the scenes. You look like someone used to giving orders... maybe a Reader? No¡­ your technique¡¯s different. Trickster, maybe¡­ or Dealer?¡±


    I knew she had the wrong idea, but I let it slide. I was too tired to deal with her usual antics.

 18 Hunter’s Examination

    I ignored Selena¡¯s prying and dialed Stefan¡¯s number.


    ¡°This is Leora¡¯s husband¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the Author, right?¡± His voice was gruff but friendly. ¡°She told me you¡¯d be calling. So, what¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    ¡°How do I become a Hunting Dog? From what I know, I¡¯d need a recommendation from an ex-member.¡±


    As the light ahead turned red, Selena slammed the brakes, jerking us to a halt. I gripped the handlebar and, belatedly, clicked my seatbelt into place. She looked over with an expression that screamed, Are you insane?


    Stefan laughed on the other end of the line. ¡°You want to volunteer? No one¡¯s come to me asking that in years¡ªmost forget that 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.


    I powered down my phone and returned it on my pocket.


    The Hunting Dogs. They were a special unit within the Hunter¡¯s Association, an elite squad meant to take down the top bounties¡ªthe ones the Association was particularly keen to erase from the world. The members weren¡¯t exactly the sort you¡¯d find on a hero poster; they were criminals, psychopaths, and the best hunters alive, answering only to the chairman. A hidden force, unknown even to most hunters, probably filed away in some locked drawer under the chairman¡¯s desk.


    Selena raised an eyebrow, letting out a scoff. ¡°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. It was a genuine question.


    She looked at me, eyes narrowing with reluctant concern. If she was going to tail me as closely as she¡¯d promised Leora, she¡¯d need to become a Hunting Dog, too.


    ¡°Your wife used to work as a Hunting Dog,¡± she muttered, almost resentfully.


    ¡°I know¡­¡± I replied, though it was something my wife probably didn¡¯t realize I knew.


    ¡°All the more reason you shouldn¡¯t join. The Dogs are... not the good guys. No morals, and there¡¯s no going back from a place like that.¡±


    "I would," I said, feeling the weight of the words as they left my mouth. "My wife did, didn''t she?"


    Selena was silent. I could feel her glancing at me, her usually mischievous expression tempered by something else, something almost like hesitation.


    And the truth? I wasn¡¯t even sure I believed it myself.


    ¡°Drive,¡± I said quietly.


    Without another word, Selena pressed the gas, and the car moved forward, weaving through the city streets.


    ¡°Selena, you¡¯re strong enough to make it big in the hunter world,¡± I said, cracking open the window for some air. ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain even people from the Hunting Dogs would find you a formidable opponent¡­ but your lack of ambition is holding you back. The truth is I could use every bit of help I can get¡ªand that means you.¡±


    I understood why she reacted so strongly at the mention of the Hunting Dogs. My wife practically grew up among them if I remembered her backstory right. Selena? Her dad had been one of them too¡­ and worse, he was a total jerk. But it got worse¡ªher dad was one of the Seven Extremes, recognized as one of the top seven strongest hunters in the world.


    I continued, keeping my tone sincere. ¡°This is a selfish request, but I hope you can guard my back, Selena¡­¡±


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    My ability needed a partner to work efficiently; without someone covering my back, I¡¯d be as vulnerable as a sitting duck. I still needed time to grow. I considered Grue or even Jacob as potential bodyguards, but I preferred someone my wife trusted.


    Selena eyed me suspiciously. ¡°Are you thinking of asking the chairman for a favor?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied, watching the cityscape blur outside the window. ¡°I need protection for my family. Joining the Dogs could earn me that favor. The Elsewhere Cult has power I can¡¯t touch on my own. Something like the Hunter¡¯s Association is what I¡¯d need to deal with maniacs like them.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. If they¡¯re so strong, why haven¡¯t I heard of them before?¡±


    I met her gaze briefly. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many secret organizations are out there.¡±


    The car came to a halt as we arrived at our destination. Before stepping out, I reached into my breast pocket and handed Selena a tarot card: The Moon.


    She raised a brow. ¡°One of the twenty-two major arcana¡­ So, what? Are you going to predict my future?¡±


    ¡°Not quite.¡± I had used my Maker State to imbue the card with my mark. Recently in-flight, I¡¯d awakened a new attribute, something I called the ¡®connection¡¯ attribute. It was vague in concept but held a lot of potential. ¡°I considered using a bookmark, but a tarot card has its own charm. With that, I¡¯ll know where you are¡ªwhether you¡¯re dead or alive. If you channel your aura into it, you can talk to me directly. Think of it as a more secure line than any phone; you can keep it in your pocket, send a pulse of aura, and we¡¯ll communicate mentally. It can¡¯t be jammed or hacked by anyone, even aura-users.¡±


    She stared at the card with a hint of intrigue in her expression, and slipped it into her pocket.


    I popped open the trunk, grabbed my suitcase, and noticed Selena toss her car keys to a valet. Together, we approached the imposing, antiquated building ahead of us.


    Selena glanced at me. ¡°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 suit¡¯s reinforced layers. ¡°I¡¯m fully aware. But this suit isn¡¯t just for show¡ªit¡¯s layered with protection. Besides, I look handsome as hell in this.¡±


    The truth was, I¡¯d rather have been wearing something like shorts or anything with more range of movement. But protection was protection, and this was the same suit I¡¯d worn at that gala where I¡¯d eliminated a number of Elsewhere Cultists. I imagined they wouldn¡¯t be caught off guard the same way twice.


    Once inside, I took in the scene¡ªa diverse mix of people, from aura-wielders practically glowing with power to the entirely mundane, all here for the exam. There were easily over a hundred people, maybe more. Despite the numbers, the high ceiling and spacious layout kept it from feeling too crowded.


    I made my way to the front counter, Selena trailing just a step behind. At the desk, a clerk looked up at me with a tired but curious expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m here for the exam,¡± I told him.


    The clerk handed me a pamphlet and an annoyingly long form. ¡°The exam will start in 30 minutes. Here¡¯s your pamphlet, and please fill this in.¡±


    Flipping through the packet, I realized it was a combination of a questionnaire and a waiver. I filled it out half-heartedly, knowing full well this was likely some psychological tactic to weed out the mundanes who weren¡¯t serious about this life. Unofficial hunters like myself knew exactly what we were here for, but some of these hopefuls¡­ I could sense hesitation in a few.


    Then there was the waiver¡ªessentially pages of fine print detailing how the Association wasn¡¯t responsible if we ended up dead. I signed my name with no fuss and handed everything back.


    As I stepped away from the line and waited for Selena, someone collided with me¡ªa burly guy with a nasty scar across his forehead and the unmistakable stench of booze. I felt a controlled aura coming from him, a telltale sign of an unofficial hunter.


    ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, twat,¡± he sneered, his accent thick and grating.


    Normally, I¡¯d turn around and walk away from this kind of person, no matter how obnoxious. But as he brushed past, I felt my wallet and phone vanish from my pockets. It had to be some kind of special ability¡ªmy aura sensitivity was too sharp to miss the faint trace of energy. I narrowed my eyes.


    ¡°You look like a brute, but it seems you¡¯re just a lowly thief. Give it back before you regret it.¡±


    The brute turned around and sneered at me.


    I felt a twinge of amusement. His cockiness was almost endearing, if he weren¡¯t so predictable. Thanks to the Soul Link, I¡¯d grasped the finer details of his ¡°misdirection¡± attribute and had it at my disposal. I only needed the barest of touch for my special ability to work. My own attribute, ¡°connection,¡± allowed me to delve into his aura¡¯s inner workings with ease¡ªno detail was too small, and nothing escaped my notice.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± he growled, stepping closer. He loomed over me, easily a head taller, but his size didn¡¯t faze me in the slightest. ¡°Give it back.¡±


    Using Soul Link wasn¡¯t subtle, especially against a fellow aura user. I just smiled and said, ¡°Sure.¡±


    Returning his borrowed aura, I leveraged the connection to mimic his thieving technique. With the precision and speed of a seasoned hunter, I swiped back my wallet and phone¡ªplus a little extra¡ªwithout him noticing.


    He gave a smug huff, satisfied with his supposed ¡°victory,¡± and stalked off, convinced he¡¯d cowed me.


    Simpleton.

 19 Elimination Round

    Selena smirked, ¡°Saw that. Your special ability is weird¡ªmakes you nearly invincible in a one-on-one fight.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. My special ability had given me the edge I needed, and it was a large part of why I had the confidence to aim for the Hunting Dogs and challenge the cult.


    ¡°Any ideas on what the test will be like?¡± I asked, hoping for a hint.


    Selena arched a brow. ¡°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 now might differ from what it would¡¯ve been ten years later, but the structure shouldn¡¯t be too different.


    ¡°The exam takes place over a series of events, lasting anywhere from a week to a month. There are eight stages. The first stage is an elimination round, and the remaining tests represent the Seven States: Fighter, Runner, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader. To pass, you only need to complete half, but I intend to clear all of them.¡±


    Selena tilted her head, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. ¡°At least you did your homework. So, any reason why you need to pass them all?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aiming for a gold-tier hunter pass.¡±


    What exactly was a gold-tier hunter pass? It wasn¡¯t something just anyone could get their hands on. A regular hunter¡¯s license granted the holder access to low-level resources and allowed them to operate freely within certain limits. It provided stability for hunters who took on local jobs, usually involving low-risk bounties and simple contracts. Most hunters had silver or bronze-tier passes, which offered a steady career path without too many risks.


    A gold-tier pass, however, was different. It granted access to top-tier resources, rare intel, and high-paying contracts that went beyond the usual assignments. Gold-tier hunters had the freedom to operate internationally, their jurisdiction extending far beyond the reach of regional hunter associations. They received first dibs on lucrative jobs, equipment, and, most importantly, respect and recognition from the Hunter¡¯s Association. It was the kind of pass that made a hunter¡¯s name known¡ªsometimes feared¡ªand I was determined to get it.


    Something like a gold-tier hunting pass would also improve my standing within the Hunting Dogs¡­ so it was quite crucial.


    "Any ideas on how many participants?" I asked, glancing over at Selena.


    She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, how should I know such sensitive data?"


    "I don¡¯t know," I shrugged, "maybe you took a peek or something."


    She smirked, crossing her arms. "I mean, I do have very good eyes, but are you insinuating I¡¯ve done something criminal?"


    "You¡¯re such a tease," I replied, grinning.


    Selena tilted her head, her smirk widening. "Careful, your wife might get jealous."


    I rolled my eyes. "Spit it."


    "Where do you want me to spit it?" she shot back. "And how wet do you like it, anyway?"


    Okay, that one was on me.


    She chuckled. "Yeah, I took a little run through their system while no one was looking. There are over twelve thousand participants. Apparently, this isn¡¯t the only lobby they¡¯re keeping people in. From what I heard, the passing rate will be around 20%, so competition¡¯s gonna be tough."


    ¡°Twenty percent?¡± I echoed, raising an eyebrow.


    Wasn¡¯t it supposed to be 30%? This was a different year, so it was understandable.


    Twelve thousand applicants, and only a fraction of that would make it through. And given the kinds of people drawn to these exams¡ªthe desperate, the overconfident, and the downright deadly¡ªit was going to be a gauntlet, even for the seasoned.


    Selena gave me a half-shrug, looking amused at my reaction. ¡°It¡¯s a bigger cutthroat pool than the place where I came from,¡± she said, ¡°but hey, you wanted a gold-tier pass. High stakes come with high rewards.¡±


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    ¡°Fair point,¡± I conceded, glancing at the waves of applicants around us.


    Selena chuckled. ¡°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 a bit of bite myself,¡± I replied, straightening my jacket.


    The lobby suddenly fell quiet. I noticed that the clerks had all disappeared, and in place of the chandelier, a giant jumbotron now hung overhead. The change was so seamless that I hadn¡¯t noticed when it happened. I figured multiple aura abilities had been used¡ªprobably Maker, Trickster, and Dealer.


    On the screen appeared the face of the Hunter¡¯s Association chairman. He looked like any middle-aged man, with a plain face, a not-so-obvious stubble, a shiny bald head, and eyes so dull he seemed like a background character in a manga¡­ except he clearly wasn¡¯t. He wore a red cape, of all things, along with a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts.


    ¡°Greetings, aspiring hunters!¡± he began, his voice booming through the hushed lobby.


    The chairman¡¯s voice was surprisingly deep, commanding attention even in his strange attire. He looked like someone who¡¯d just stumbled into the frame, not the leader of the most powerful hunter organization. But appearances were deceptive; I knew better than to let his plainness fool me.


    ¡°Welcome to the Hunter¡¯s Exam,¡± he said, his dull eyes scanning the room as if he could see us all individually. ¡°You¡¯re here because you think you¡¯re ready. I assure you, most of you are not.¡±


    The silence thickened around us as he continued. ¡°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, his gaze seeming to linger on each one of us, and for a brief moment, his dull eyes sparkled with something fierce.


    ¡°And so,¡± he continued, ¡°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 filled the lobby once more.


    A series of letters made of aura flashed over my head, reading [Room B]. Over Selena¡¯s head, the aura spelled out [Room A].


    "We can¡¯t have that, can we?" she said, smirking. "How am I supposed to protect you?"


    "You don¡¯t necessarily have to protect me all the way," I replied. "Just save me if it looks like I¡¯m about to die."


    Selena laughed. "Nah, your wife would kill me if she found out her hubby got hurt or something."


    She stared up at the aura above her, and it shifted to [Room B]. Behind us, I heard some shouts as others noticed their own auras switching to [Room A]. Without missing a beat, Selena grabbed me by the wrist and led the way forward.


    I raised an eyebrow at Selena¡¯s little trick but didn¡¯t resist as she pulled me along. ¡°So, swapping aura markers now?¡± I said with 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.¡± She flicked her gaze forward, her grip on my wrist unrelenting.


    As we weaved through the crowd, I noticed a few bewildered participants scratching their heads, staring up at the aura above them as if trying to figure out what had just happened. Selena¡¯s skill with aura manipulation was unnervingly smooth, and she seemed to relish stirring up a little chaos.


    We entered a room lined with steel plates, their gaps filled with fluorescent lamps casting a stark glow. I used my Soul Link to connect with the mundanes, keeping it subtle so they wouldn¡¯t sense the aura''s invasion. As a precaution, I only linked the auras without equalizing them.


    A giant LED screen on the wall displayed a counter, ticking upward as more people filtered in. When it hit 500, a voice filled the room¡ªit was aura, unmistakable and resonant.


    ¡°Here are the rules,¡± it 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. Numero dos: Only the top 150 can proceed from this room to the other stages. Once the counter falls to 150, then the door for the other room will open. Immobilizing or knocking out your contenders is fair play. Numero tres: Don¡¯t try too hard, ''cause you can try again next year. That¡¯s all. Now on the count of ten¡­¡±


    Selena looked at me, her expression serious. "Here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do: hide. Let them fight among each other and take it easy. Simple enough, isn¡¯t it?"


    "I have a better idea." I grabbed her wrist. "Let me borrow your attribute."


    She looked unsure, but she relented nonetheless. "Yeah, sure."


    I connected her to the Soul Link and pulled in her disguise attribute.


    I connected her to the Soul Link and took on her disguise attribute. ¡°I think I¡¯ll need your mental power too, so on my signal, transform us into clowns.¡±


    The announcer¡¯s voice counted down. ¡°Eight. Nine. Ten. Go crazy, you lot!¡±


    I channeled the Soul Links, equalizing everyone¡¯s aura, then pulled Selena close. "Now!"


    Instantly, every mundane in the room¡ªincluding Selena and me¡ªtransformed into clowns. I quickly pulled her into a corner, and once we were hidden, I returned everyone¡¯s aura to where it belonged. "Selena, dispel our disguises, and let¡¯s camouflage ourselves against the walls."


    A crowd of weapon-wielding mundanes filled the room, each carrying some sort of deadly instrument. Expecting no casualties was unrealistic, but it seemed the Association had measures in place to keep things under control. I stayed close to Selena, both of us camouflaged against the walls.


    The scene was utter chaos.


    A big guy¡ªclearly an unofficial hunter¡ªthrew a punch at a clown wielding a sword. Nearby, several clowns with unorthodox weapons ganged up on another unofficial hunter. But the wildest part? Most of the clowns were fighting amongst themselves, creating a tangled mess of limbs and weapons.


    Dismemberment seemed acceptable, huh? But no killing. Crazy.


    As long as it wasn¡¯t a one-hit kill, it looked like they''d survive, judging by the teleportations happening all around. Another aura ability at work. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if a healer was waiting for the teleported injured. The Hunter¡¯s Association was never one to hold back on its exams, that was for sure.

 20 Complicated Feelings

    Holy shit. Holy shit!


    Selena¡¯s pulse quickened, an unruly rhythm drumming in her chest. ¡®This guy¡¯s already married. The two of you aren¡¯t meant to be,¡¯ she reminded herself, as if it would help.


    ¡®Stop beating like crazy, my damn heart...¡¯ So this was what Leora had meant when she¡¯d said her husband had a ¡°natural rizz.¡± At the time, Selena had thought she was exaggerating. But damn, Reynard was just¡­ smooth.


    Reynard¡¯s thick arm was wrapped protectively around her as the chaos of the exam erupted in front of them. Blows were exchanged, and weapons clashed while mundanes fought to out-muscle each other. But despite the madness, Selena held their camouflage in place, keeping them hidden. She focused her energy, maintaining their near-invisibility, while the others brawled openly.


    For a moment, she glanced at Reynard¡¯s face. He was calm, eyes darting over the room, assessing every movement with a sharpness that made her heart skip again. ¡®Get a grip, Selena,¡¯ she thought, refocusing on the task at hand.


    Selena was supposed to be bodyguarding Reynard, but first, she had to guard her own heart. How crazy was that?! When the counter finally hit 150, the room returned to a tense calm. Selena released her aura illusion, allowing them both to become visible again.


    Reynard looked down at her with a slightly exasperated expression. ¡°You can let go now¡­¡±


    Only then did Selena realize she was clinging to his waist.


    ¡°Please?¡± Reynard added with a faint smile and a hint of amusement in his voice. ¡°I¡¯m okay; no need to be overzealous with your bodyguarding.¡±


    ¡°My bad¡­¡± Selena muttered, reluctantly releasing him. She couldn''t help but think how much of a waste Reynard¡¯s handsome face was, yet she knew Leora had truly lucked out in finding such a good husband.


    Selena had always been envious of Leora. Not that she¡¯d ever admit it out loud¡ªespecially not to Leora herself, who would just laugh and ruffle her hair, completely missing the subtle pang Selena felt. It wasn¡¯t even just Reynard, though the more time Selena spent around him, the more she understood why Leora had been so quick to snatch him up.


    It was the whole package: the unshakable trust, the easy laughter, the way they fit so naturally together, as if their lives had been intertwined from the start. Selena knew, because she have watched them from the shadows, envious and wishful at the same time for the life that Leora managed to create for herself after quiting the hunter scene.


    Reynard wasn¡¯t just a partner in the practical sense; he was someone who made Leora glow.


    That kind of bond was rare, and Selena couldn¡¯t help but admire it¡ªand, if she was honest, feel a touch of jealousy.


    Watching Reynard now, a quiet confidence in his stance, Selena let out a sigh she didn¡¯t realize she was holding. He wasn¡¯t paying her any mind, already studying the room with his usual sharpness, likely assessing every face, every exit, and every remaining threat.


    Selena shook her head, willing herself to stay focused. This isn¡¯t the time for daydreaming, she reminded herself. But as she followed Reynard¡¯s gaze, she couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang, wishing she¡¯d find someone like him someday¡ªsomeone to stand beside her with the same quiet strength.


    A soulmate.


    Gunshots rang out¡ªrapid, relentless fire, aimed directly at them. Selena¡¯s instincts kicked in instantly. She saw Reynard hesitate for a split second, his focus split as he tracked the shooters.


    ¡°I got you!¡± she shouted, lunging forward. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as her aura flared. Tapping into her light and disguise attributes, she created a scattering of afterimages, each one a ghostly replica of them sprinting in different directions.


    In the confusion, she guided them back against the wall, blending their forms into the steel plates behind them. The shots hit nothing but flickering illusions. Breathing heavily, Selena tightened her grip around Reynard, keeping them pressed flat as more bullets ricocheted off the walls nearby.


    She felt Reynard¡¯s surprised gaze on her, but she kept her focus on the attackers, scanning the chaos for any sign of movement. Her heart pounded, not only from the thrill of the danger but from the closeness between them. It was all she could do to stay level-headed.


    Frankly, it was a secret she¡¯d kept even from Leora¡­ that she was in fact shy around guys¡­


    As the gunfire finally ceased, she slowly relaxed her grip, keeping them camouflaged just in case. ¡°You okay?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    Reynard nodded with a glint of gratitude in his eyes. ¡°Yeah¡­ Thanks to you.¡±


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    ¡®Oh stop looking at me like that!¡¯


    Selena let out a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she was holding.


    She smiled, trying to play it off. ¡°Just doing my job.¡±


    The attacker sneered as he reloaded, his gaze fixed on Reynard. He was one of the mundanes who had somehow survived the brutal elimination round. With a black bandana covering half his face and chapped, cracked lips, he looked both wild and desperate. His eyes burned with rage as he spat, "I saw it was you who pulled that stupid trick. You¡¯re dead. I''ll kill you, motherfucker!"


    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡®So, he¡¯s recently awakened an aura,¡¯ she realized, feeling a faint shift in his energy. He seemed to be a Seeker type, his aura honing in on Reynard even through their disguise. But the bigger question was¡ªhow had he managed to get a gun past the initial checks?


    The tension in the air sharpened as the announcer¡¯s voice suddenly boomed through the room, chillingly stern. ¡°Guns are prohibited in this exam.¡± His tone was dangerously calm, carrying a weight that silenced even the lingering skirmishes around them. ¡°No guns. That rule is in place to respect the spirit of hunter combat and the practice of aura itself.¡±


    The gunman froze, his sneer melting into horror as he clutched his head. A scream tore from his throat as he began to cry out, ¡°It hurts! My head¡ª¡±


    Blood trickled from his nose and eyes as his cries grew more frantic, his hands clawing at his temples. Then, in one horrifying instant, his head exploded, splattering blood and fragments across the floor. The room fell silent, the grisly reminder of the Association¡¯s authority sending a wave of dread through everyone present.


    Selena felt her stomach twist, but she didn¡¯t let it show. She glanced at Reynard, who remained steady, his expression unreadable. She knew that he, too, had seen things like this before. It was a brutal reminder of the stakes they faced in the Association¡¯s trials¡ªwhere even the smallest rule violation could have fatal consequences.


    Reynard looked down at her, his gaze steady. ¡°We¡¯d better keep moving. There¡¯ll be more like him,¡± he murmured.


    Selena nodded, steeling herself. ¡°Right. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    A memory flashed in Selena¡¯s mind as they moved through the quieted chaos¡ªthe days of her childhood, when her father had forced her into the brutal Hunting Dogs Program. She remembered the rigid drills, the unforgiving terrain, and the endless aura training. It was there, in that cold, relentless environment, that she had met Leora. Recently orphaned, Leora had been just as lost and bitter as Selena, and through shared hardship, they had bonded like sisters.


    But Selena hadn¡¯t finished her training. One night, she had escaped, breaking free from the training camp and the Association¡¯s grasp. In exchange, she had lived a life of crime, far from the Association¡¯s influence. She had kept her distance from anything that might lead her back to that controlled, merciless world¡ªuntil now.


    The walls behind them slid open soundlessly, the steel plates retracting to reveal an unmarked door. Selena¡¯s concentration wavered, and her camouflage dissolved. Startled, she stiffened, her instincts kicking in, but Reynard¡¯s firm hand caught her shoulder.


    ¡°I got your back,¡± he said, his voice steady and anchoring her.


    Selena relaxed slightly, meeting his gaze. ¡°And I¡¯ve got yours, too.¡±


    They exchanged a brief, understanding look before turning their attention to the open doorway. This was no ordinary passage; she could feel a surge of intense aura emanating from beyond it, a signal that this was the next stage of the exam¡ªand likely more treacherous than anything they¡¯d encountered so far.


    "Proceed forward," commanded the now mysteriously disembodied voice.


    Selena and Reynard moved ahead in tandem with the other contestants, the darkness pressing in from all sides. The path was narrow and felt shorter than expected, a brief and tense walk that left Selena on edge. She felt Reynard¡¯s hand find hers, his grip reassuring.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got sharper senses in the dark,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible. ¡°I can map out where the others are.¡±


    Trusting his guidance, Selena followed his lead. She was grateful for the subtle direction he provided as they navigated the crowded, shadowed passage. Soon, they emerged into a brightly lit room, the sudden flood of light momentarily blinding her. She blinked, adjusting, and then realized with a jolt how few people remained around them.


    The crowd had thinned considerably.


    The voice from before returned, cold and mocking. ¡°Congratulations on surviving the second stage! And don¡¯t worry¡ªthey aren¡¯t dead!¡±


    Selena glanced at Reynard, who looked equally unsettled. The ominous message echoed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. She scanned the faces of the remaining contestants, each one a mix of weariness and uncertainty.


    ¡°Just how many didn¡¯t make it?¡± she murmured.


    Reynard¡¯s gaze sharpened, but he kept his expression neutral. ¡°Enough to show us this is no ordinary test. But we will be fine¡­ everything had been manageable and within expectations.¡±


    The announcer¡¯s voice echoed throughout the room, still tinged with that casual, mocking tone. ¡°You just passed the Trickster Stage! Now, wait for a bit until the next stage¡­ The others are a bit slow. So loosen up, people, make friends, or something!¡±


    Selena exchanged a wary glance with Reynard, who merely raised an eyebrow in response. The remaining contestants looked around, most of them still tense, some visibly exhausted. A few tried to follow the announcer¡¯s suggestion, engaging in cautious, murmured conversations, while others kept to themselves, sizing up the competition.


    Selena leaned closer to Reynard, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Trickster Stage¡­ huh? I knew the Association¡¯s exams were intense, but this is something else.¡±


    He nodded, his gaze sweeping the room. ¡°They¡¯re testing more than our skills. They want to see how we handle uncertainty and trust¡ªwho we align ourselves with and how we read the game.¡± His eyes lingered on a group huddling near the wall, speaking in hushed tones. ¡°Everyone¡¯s making mental calculations. Allies, threats... This respite is important. We can¡¯t be overconfident.¡±


    Selena crossed her arms, her lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Friends or foes, doesn¡¯t make a difference. No one here¡¯s going to be as reliable as you.¡±


    Reynard smirked. ¡°That makes two of us.¡± His expression softened just slightly, almost imperceptible to anyone else. ¡°But we¡¯ll still need to make friends.¡±


    The lights dimmed briefly, and a flicker of movement caught Selena¡¯s attention. She turned to see a young woman approach, her stance non-threatening yet purposeful. ¡°I¡¯m Kara,¡± the woman introduced, nodding to them both. ¡°Mind if I join you?¡±


    Selena glanced at Reynard, then back at the woman. She forced a polite smile. Allies¡­ perhaps, she thought. But trust was another story.

 21 Conquer the Territory

    Kara had curly dark hair that framed her face beneath a veil, and her clothes were reminiscent of ancient Egyptian belly dancers, though with a modern twist. She wore a loosely wrapped scarf around her hips, a gauzy fabric that hinted at her form beneath. A sliver of her belly showed just below her top, which matched the deep purple of the silk that clung to her curves. Golden embellishments¡ªrings, bracelets, and a circlet across her brow¡ªaccentuated her allure, drawing out the warm tones of her soft, chocolate-brown skin.


    Only her blue-gray eyes showed above the veil that covered her lower face, but even they seemed to glimmer with intent, an aura wrapping around her like a second skin.


    Bells chimed softly with each movement. Her breath was accompanied by quiet power. This was Kara Halim, the picture of sex appeal, and a member of the Undead Troupe. I kept that knowledge to myself; she was as dangerous as she was likely to be useful, and I didn¡¯t plan on revealing her background to anyone here. She hadn¡¯t come for me¡ªof that, I was certain.


    Knowing the Troupe¡¯s style, she¡¯d likely been sent to establish a foothold within the Hunter¡¯s Association, hoping to exploit the organization¡¯s resources with herself as the access point. How they intended to pull that off, I had no idea, but I could imagine several ways how they might achieve it.


    I inclined my head in the old gesture, my hand at my chest, fingers spread just so. Kara¡¯s eyes widened for a moment, a flicker of her past self piercing through the veil of indifference she wore so well. Her reaction was brief, and her expression soon hardened again, her gaze sharp as she watched me rise from the respectful bow.


    "It is an honor, truly," I said. "A lady of your standing gracing us with her presence¡ª"


    She cut me off with a dismissive wave, her brows knitting together in irritation. ¡°A commoner,¡± she reminded me, her voice flat, cool. ¡°There¡¯s no need for these unnecessary pleasantries. My status is nothing in this world; I¡¯m just another face, another aspiring member of this... Association.¡± She said the word with a strange mixture of disdain and reluctance, as though it tasted sour in her mouth.


    I smiled, not quite able to hide my amusement. ¡°If that¡¯s what you wish to believe,¡± I said softly, letting my tone slip into something a touch playful. ¡°But we both know you¡¯re far from ¡®just another face.¡¯ The Undead Troupe chose you for a reason, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    Well¡­ I was a fickle man¡­ and it wasn¡¯t like I broke my own word. I said I wouldn¡¯ reveal her name to anyone else, but that didn¡¯t stop me from mentioning it to the person herself. While Selena did hear my words, she only showed a look of mild interest, which I was thankful of.


    The mention of the Troupe elicited another frown, but this time it was tinged with something else¡ªwas that a hint of annoyance, perhaps even resignation? She must have realized how well-informed I was about her background, about her standing within the Troupe. That I knew her history, the lineage that once traced her back to ancient royalty. And that I was wise to her purpose here.


    ¡°The Troupe,¡± she murmured, her gaze shifting 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 locked onto mine, dark and unyielding. ¡°I would tell you, but then you¡¯d be in deeper than you¡¯re prepared to go.¡± The bells at her waist jingled softly as she took a single step forward, the faint aura around her seeming to thicken, growing more tangible. ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t want you to get too¡­ entangled. You are cute, by the way¡­¡±


    It was a veiled warning, though her words were cloaked in flirtation. But even as she tried to deflect, I could sense the truth unraveling beneath her words.


    To be frank, I¡¯d established several truths from her actions thus far.


    First, my mention of her connection to the Troupe had caught her off guard. The Undead Troupe went to great lengths to obscure their pasts and affiliations, which explained her reaction. She hadn¡¯t expected me to know about her involvement at all. This suggested that the Troupe was still in its formative stage, growing quietly in the shadows, still in the process of recruiting. Even with my meta-knowledge, I hadn¡¯t anticipated they were still so fresh in their organization.


    Second, there was likely only one reason she¡¯d approached me at all: recruitment.


    Kara¡¯s gaze softened, her voice slipping into a low, inviting tone as she tilted her head. ¡°What do you think about joining the Troupe, handsome?¡±


    The third truth I gleaned from Kara¡¯s behavior was perhaps the most revealing: the Undead Troupe was no longer in league with the Elsewhere Cult. If they were, Kara wouldn¡¯t be here trying to sweet-talk me; I¡¯d have faced a much different kind of reception. She might have used manipulation, blackmail, or something far darker. Instead, she was here, playing nice, laying on the charm like we were old friends.


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    "You''re wasting your time," I said, allowing a smirk to tug at the corner of my mouth. "And you can stop the flirting. I am already a married man."


    Kara''s gaze slid over to Selena, who had been lingering just at the edge of the conversation, looking a mix of curious and concerned. Kara¡¯s eyes narrowed with a knowing glint, and a small, amused smile crept over her lips.


    Selena¡¯s face flamed red, her hands fluttering nervously as she stammered out, ¡°I¡¯m not¡ªI mean, I¡¯m not his wife! Not the one he¡¯s talking about, anyway!¡± Her voice pitched slightly, her blush deepening as she looked from Kara to me, utterly flustered.


    Kara¡¯s smirk only widened. "Not the one he''s talking about, hmm?" she mused, glancing between us as if seeing something that wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Well, it seems I¡¯m late to the party on more than one front.¡±


    Funny¡­


    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 for 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¡­ like playing a very refined and larger scale of whack a mole~!¡±


    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.


    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.¡±


    Kara 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, Kara?¡± 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 Kara 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.


    Kara 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, Kara¡¯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.


    It was impromptu work, but it sure was effective.


    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.


    The countdown timer began its slow, grinding five-minute descent. 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.


    Kara glanced over at me, ¡°So any ideas about what¡¯s next?¡±

 22 Passive Aggressive

    The announcer¡¯s voice returned, this time carrying a distinctly menacing edge. ¡°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 shot a glance at Kara and Selena. ¡°We hide and endure,¡± I said firmly.


    And they didn¡¯t argue.


    I turned my attention to our circle, feeling out the subtle shifts in energy around us. There were three others inside, and, judging by the aura signatures, I pieced together the function of our space. It was more than just a boundary¡ªit was a barrier, an isolation barrier specifically. The rules were clear: only five people were permitted within the confines of this territory. If more tried to enter, they¡¯d find themselves unable to stay within the bounds, subconsciously pushed out by the barrier itself. To claim it was simple: the first five to step in held it. And if anyone was forced out? The territory would reset, open to new contenders.


    ¡°With the no-kill rule in effect, we¡¯re best off playing defensively,¡± I murmured, eyeing the hunters prowling just outside the boundary.


    With our combined techniques, we¡¯d managed to create an isolated, nearly imperceptible pocket within the improvised all-out brawl arena. I felt confident in Selena¡¯s abilities; her skill with concealment was as precise as ever, rendering us practically invisible. I was a bit less certain about Kara¡¯s barrier¡ªit was subtle but not entirely undetectable if someone got close enough. Still, we were lucky. For now, the other hunters were focused on nearby circles, sparring among themselves and barely noticing our territory.


    Selena leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s safe to stay passive like this the whole time?¡±


    I shook my head slightly, watching the hunters beyond our veil. ¡°No. Sooner or later, someone¡¯s going to stumble across us. We¡¯re in a crowded space, and it¡¯s only a matter of time before they get curious or reckless.¡± I glanced at the two of them as I lowered my tone a bit. ¡°To keep our ground, we need to eliminate threats near us when the opportunity arises. We can¡¯t afford to sit back entirely.¡±


    As if to confirm my words, Kara raised her hand with a small, flicking her wrist ever so slightly.


    I watched as an aura took shape¡ªa near-invisible bubble of pressurized air that floated over to a nearby contender, one of the mundanes caught in the middle of the melee. He didn¡¯t even notice it until it settled around him like a silent cage.


    The effect was immediate and brutal. The air around him thinned, his face paling as he struggled to breathe. I saw his knees buckle, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water. Within seconds, his movements slowed, and his eyes rolled back, unconscious from the lack of air. Kara didn¡¯t let it go far enough to kill him, though she was clearly enjoying just how close she could bring him to that edge.


    She looked at me with a dark glint of satisfaction in her gaze. ¡°Consider that a preview.¡±


    Selena swallowed, looking uneasy, but I nodded, meeting Kara¡¯s gaze with steady approval. ¡°Effective,¡± I said, keeping my voice calm. ¡°We¡¯ll need every advantage if we want to keep this territory.¡±


    I decided it was time to show something of my own, something strong enough to plant a warning in Kara¡¯s mind¡ªand, by extension, to the Troupe she represented. If they were one day considering using me as a pawn or a plaything, I wanted them to think twice.


    Despite my growing fame and my connections, personal strength was a type of power that couldn¡¯t be looked down on no matter what.


    Turning to her, I extended my hand. ¡°May I?¡± I asked, tilting my head in a polite request to hold her hand.


    Kara¡¯s brow furrowed with wary suspicion flashing in her eyes.


    Selena, standing just behind me, let out a teasing laugh. ¡°Reynard, seriously? You just met this woman, and you¡¯re already holding hands? Better hope your wife doesn¡¯t hear about this.¡± She raised an eyebrow, feigning an innocent look as she added, ¡°You know she won¡¯t take it well.¡±


    I shot Selena a look. ¡°This is just a prerequisite of my ability. Believe me, it¡¯s nothing romantic.¡±


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    While hiding the importance of special abilities was common sense, I didn¡¯t mind at all. This one prerequisite was too obvious after all and I have no plans of being hindered by this one weakness.


    Kara didn¡¯t look fully convinced, but after a moment¡¯s hesitation, she extended her hand to mine. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, though her tone held a note of caution. ¡°But fair warning: this comes with consequences. I don¡¯t take kindly to having my aura meddled with.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡± Our fingers entwined, and I activated Soul Link, feeling the distinct pulse of her aura flood through me. Her aura was strong, fierce¡ªalive with that same edge of wind and defiance she radiated naturally. I concentrated, equalizing our auras, then drew on her wind attribute. I felt the shift within, a sensation of air currents gathering just beneath my skin, ready to be harnessed.


    I let go of her hand and returned the portion of her aura I¡¯d borrowed, the equalization dissipating smoothly as our connection broke.


    Kara¡¯s eyes widened with a rare flicker of surprise in her normally controlled expression. She looked at me, unsure of what had just happened but fully aware that I¡¯d taken something. ¡°What¡­ did you just do?¡± Her voice was low, cautious, as if calculating just how dangerous I might be.


    I smiled slightly, keeping my tone casual. ¡°Consider it a brief exchange. I can borrow abilities if I link to someone¡¯s aura. It¡¯s a bit of a knack of mine.¡± I held her gaze, letting the meaning sink in.


    Borrowing abilities¡ªthat was putting it mildly. I could do much more than just mimic someone¡¯s power. The wind attribute I¡¯d taken from Kara stayed with me, even after Soul Link faded, lingering like a second skin. She probably thought I¡¯d returned it, unaware I still held onto its essence, ready to manipulate it further. I held the wind attribute close to my heart. If I lost focus, the attribute would be lost to me.


    I turned to Selena. ¡°I need a bit more of your aura.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t question it. Selena knew my limitations¡ªmy aura pool wasn¡¯t vast on its own, so I needed to be creative. She extended her hand, and I activated Soul Link again, feeling a rush as my aura pool expanded. I also took her disguise attribute, reimagining how her technique worked in my mind. I could feel the disguise ability twisting to my will, and I adapted it to create something¡­ unexpected.


    Visualizing an airless bubble, I added a new twist: I tweaked the disguise so that the aura surrounding the bubble would appear to come from someone else entirely. With careful precision, I cast the bubble, targeting a hunter who¡¯d strayed too close to our circle.


    He froze as the air around him thinned, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps. But instead of looking around wildly, his eyes locked on another hunter nearby¡ªone who was entirely unaware of what was happening. Rage flickered across his face as he glared, clearly convinced that his rival had launched the attack.


    The effect was perfect. The two clashed with barely a second¡¯s hesitation, each one too focused on the other to notice our veiled little territory. They fought like they meant to kill, despite the no-kill rule, each strike fueled by a misunderstanding I¡¯d engineered.


    Kara chuckled softly beside me, clearly impressed. ¡°Using someone else as the fall guy. Clever, Reynard.¡±


    I gave her a small smile, watching as the chaos spiraled. ¡°Best to keep attention anywhere but here. They¡¯ll wear each other down soon enough.¡±


    The fight continued, brutal and swift, drawing more eyes as the circle of contenders became a little more chaotic. Meanwhile, in our well-guarded territory, we remained invisible, undisturbed, and just a bit closer to that five-minute mark.


    As the seconds ticked away, I kept launching discreet ranged attacks, picking off nearby hunters and sowing further chaos among the ranks. Kara was right there with me, adding her own spells to the mix¡ªconcentrated gusts of wind that knocked unsuspecting hunters off balance. It was enough to keep the others on their toes, each of them too preoccupied with imaginary enemies to notice our little stronghold.


    Meanwhile, Selena, ever the picture of calm, lounged back on a sling chair she¡¯d somehow conjured, half-seated, half-reclined, looking as if she were simply sunbathing. She wasn¡¯t entirely idle, though; her disguise over our territory stayed intact, a shimmering veil shielding us from prying eyes.


    ¡°Enjoying yourself?¡± I muttered, glancing over as I sent another gust toward a hunter, watching him stumble backward in surprise.


    Selena shrugged, not even opening her eyes. ¡°Just waiting for you two to finish up. This is a timed exercise, remember?¡±


    Kara turned to me. ¡°One minute left, exactly,¡± she murmured, her tone growing sharper.


    Almost as if summoned by her words, the announcer¡¯s voice blared across the arena, booming with a newfound intensity. ¡°Attention, contenders! One minute remains before the first test passers meet their five-minute mark!¡± An aura-infused warning flared into existence above us, casting a countdown in the air, each glowing number ticking down with an eerie, electric hum.


    The countdown seemed to stir the hunters into a final frenzy, each team vying to secure their place. The nearest circle was packed with desperate fighters, scrambling to throw each other out of bounds and claim the space for themselves.


    I shot a glance at Selena. ¡°Keep us hidden for this last stretch. They¡¯re bound to go for an easier target than us.¡±


    ¡°Not like they can see us,¡± She gave me a lazy salute. ¡°I¡¯ve got it covered.¡±


    The numbers continued to fall, each one punctuated by Kara¡¯s subtle attacks and my own steady barrage. The arena was in chaos, but we, inside our carefully crafted territory, were invisible, and for this last minute, I intended to keep it that way.

 23 The Labyrinth

    At the very last second, as if by some twist of fate, someone stumbled into our circle. Dark hair, a face that would slip from memory the second you looked away, and barely out of his teens¡ªa Seeker type, if I had to guess, and one of the more luck-driven ones at that. I¡¯d watched him darting aimlessly across the battlefield, barely avoiding attacks through sheer dumb luck, like a headless chicken somehow staying upright in the middle of a storm.


    Selena¡¯s jaw dropped as indignation and disbelief colored her face. ¡°How¡ªhow did he even get through?!¡± she stammered, her voice brimming with a rare frustration. ¡°With that level of aura? My disguise, Kara¡¯s barrier¡­ that shouldn¡¯t be possible!¡±


    The kid, blissfully unaware of how close he was to immediate expulsion from our circle, blinked around in shock, clearly as surprised as we were that he¡¯d found a safe haven. He looked over his shoulder as if expecting another attack, his eyes darting everywhere but at us.


    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed, and her pride kicked in with full force. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not letting this one slide.¡± She moved to cast him out, her fingers sparking as she reached for the tendrils of her aura.


    But just as she began her aura manifestation, the announcer¡¯s voice boomed over the arena once again. ¡°Stage Three has concluded!¡± The words echoed through the battlefield, cutting through the noise and silencing any further attacks. ¡°Congratulations to the 5,782 contenders who remain standing!¡±


    I felt the tension in the air dissipate as the announcement settled over us, and the kid finally relaxed, still blissfully unaware of how close he¡¯d come to being thrown out. He glanced up at us, realizing for the first time he wasn¡¯t alone in the circle. He gave a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head as if to apologize for invading our space.


    Selena huffed, crossing her arms, clearly unsatisfied. Kara, though, smirked, her amusement evident as she leaned in toward me. ¡°Surviving on pure luck¡­ I suppose we should commend him.¡±


    The announcer¡¯s voice returned with a note of triumph. ¡°We began with exactly 12,245 contenders, and now, only 5,782 remain! Congratulations to those who survived this far!¡± His voice rose in a gleeful crescendo. ¡°Prepare yourselves, my brave hunters, for what awaits in the next stage!¡±


    The arena floor began to shift and rearrange beneath us, but I stayed focused, watching the kid. There was something about his dumb luck that intrigued me. Even if he didn¡¯t know it, he¡¯d just survived one of the most chaotic stages we¡¯d had yet.


    And if that luck held, he might just prove to be more than he seemed.


    Admittedly¡ª


    I couldn¡¯t deny it¡ªthis kid put me on edge more than he intrigued me. Luck could only carry someone so far before it turned into something else, something potentially dangerous. His unassuming appearance only made it worse, his forgettable face and hesitant movements barely masking a presence that somehow lingered just enough to make me cautious.


    ¡°Name?¡± I asked, keeping my tone casual but not unfriendly.


    He looked at me with wide, almost surprised eyes, like no one had ever bothered asking. ¡°Wolf.¡±


    Selena snorted, unimpressed. ¡°More like Cub Wolf,¡± she shot back, her tone dry. ¡°A very dumb but lucky cub wolf.¡±


    Wolf chuckled awkwardly, clearly missing the edge in her comment. But I didn¡¯t dwell on him long; the ground around us had shifted and reshaped entirely, and we were now standing in what looked like the mouth of a maze, the corridors stretching far into the distance, winding into darkness.


    Kara had already taken a few steps forward, testing the ground. She extended her hand, focusing her aura as she tried to lift herself up, likely aiming to scout the area. But the moment she attempted to fly, her aura stuttered and faded, her feet remaining firmly on the ground. I noticed the slight twitch of her eyes as she turned back to us.


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    ¡°What was that?¡± I asked, taking note of her reaction.


    She shook her head, clearly annoyed. ¡°Tried to fly. My aura just¡­ malfunctioned. It¡¯s like it¡¯s been suppressed somehow.¡±


    Intrigued, I studied the energy around us. I wasn¡¯t the best at sensing aura changes, but I understood enough about aura manipulation to get the basics. The walls seemed unusually dense, with a solid, unyielding aura that was somehow both physically impenetrable and mentally adaptable. It was as if the maze had a mind of its own, shifting to contain us not only in a literal sense but also by constraining specific types of abilities¡ªflying, in this case.


    More troubling was the feeling I got when I examined it further; there was a strong suppressive layer woven in, a subtle barrier against any aura manipulation that would normally allow us to bypass obstacles or¡ªmore importantly¡ªengage in lethal force.


    Just then, the announcer¡¯s voice returned, brimming with barely contained excitement. ¡°Welcome, contenders, to the Labyrinth of Minos!¡± His tone dripped with theatrical delight. ¡°This next stage is one of my finest works, a real feat of folklore-inspired ingenuity! Here in the labyrinth, you will face both physical and mental challenges, and killing remains off-limits!¡±


    The announcer¡¯s voice carried an almost gleeful malice as he laid out the rules. ¡°Welcome to the Fourth Stage, the Seeker test!¡± His tone dripped with a mocking cheerfulness as if he relished every word. ¡°This time, it¡¯s a hunt! Scattered through this labyrinth will be a random number of minotaur-like constructs¡ªbeasts with strength that nearly rivals cryptids. And if you¡¯re wondering just how tough that is, let me make it clear: those beasts are strong as hell.¡± He gave a pause, letting the weight of his words settle. ¡°My advice? Hunt them down as a team.¡±


    He didn¡¯t leave it there, of course. ¡°Now, for those wondering, each minotaur kill will count toward your team of four. Creating 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 was just beginning to wonder why it was limited to four people per team when his voice dropped into a conspiratorial tone. ¡°Why four? Well, let¡¯s just say, because I¡¯m a discordant little devil!¡± He laughed, high-pitched and maniacal. ¡°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 appeared above us, ticking down from three hours.


    Wolf grinned, clearly pleased. ¡°Well, convenient, isn¡¯t it? We¡¯re already four.¡± He glanced at Selena with a friendly grin, extending his hand. ¡°I swear to aid you, lady!¡±


    She rolled her eyes, smacking his hand away with a sharp slap. ¡°Absolutely not. No chance I¡¯m leading this team.¡±


    Wolf flinched back, rubbing his hand, looking slightly deflated. ¡°Ouch. Just trying to be helpful¡­ Sorry for the misunderstanding¡­ I thought you were the leader¡­¡±


    What made him think that?


    Hmmm¡­ probably the fact he might have seen her relaxing from the sling chair back in the 3<sup>rd</sup> stage.


    Selena turned to me, crossing her arms. ¡°I swear to give you my aid.¡± She softened a bit and extended her hand toward me with a wry smile. ¡°Better you than me in charge.¡±


    I took her hand, feeling the faint surge as her aura intertwined with mine. ¡°It¡¯s mutual, Selena. Trust me.¡±


    Selena winced at my words.


    Kara watched as she assessed me. ¡°I guess we¡¯re all in, then.¡± She stepped forward, her words a bit more formal but casual in her tone. ¡°I swear to aid you in this exam, in exchange, you have to lead us well,¡± she said, her gaze studying me intently as she offered her hand.


    I shook her hand, sealing the promise. ¡°Glad to have you onboard, Kara.¡±


    Wolf gave a small shrug, stepping up with his hand stretched out again, still sporting that innocent enthusiasm. ¡°I swear to aid you, too, mister! Let¡¯s make a good team, huh?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Wolf. Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    As our hands broke apart, a subtle pricking sensation ran through me, almost like pins and needles, as the labyrinth¡¯s aura started to siphon tendrils from my own, binding me to each of them. The connection pulsed faintly, my aura now twining with theirs as the labyrinth sealed the bond. I extended my Soul Link to all three of them without a word.


    Selena, ever perceptive, raised an eyebrow at me. ¡°Did you just... connect to us?¡±


    I gave her a half-smile. ¡°Think of it as an extra precaution. A little trick during emergencies to support you guys better.¡±


    Wolf tilted his head, looking a bit confused. ¡°Support? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It means,¡± I said with a glint of humor, ¡°if things go sideways, we''ll have a little extra aura to draw from. I could draw from the others¡¯ aura and then supply it to you,¡± I paused, considering their reactions. "If we are a little lacking in the aura department, I think I can siphon aura from the labyrinth and then use it to our advantage.


    Theoretically, the labyrinth could shoulder my aura debt if I¡¯m careful.


    Selena let out a soft laugh, catching my drift immediately. ¡°Using its own rules to your advantage, huh?¡±

 24 Fourth Stage

    The Soul Link was stable and strong.


    It felt as though I¡¯d gained a new network of connections like threads extending outward and binding us as a single entity. Each pulse from their auras resonated with mine, almost as if they were additional limbs, lending strength to my reserves. I could feel their power pooling around me like a vast wellspring of energy ready to tap into.


    Kara flexed her fingers, looking intrigued by the sensation. ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡± she asked.


    I met her gaze, then turned to scan the maze, taking in the rough-hewn stone walls and the dim flickering light casting shadows around us. ¡°We hunt,¡± I answered simply.


    Selena caught my eye, and I knew she was waiting for more.


    Information.


    So that was what I did.


    I talked.


    ¡°This labyrinth isn¡¯t what it appears,¡± I explained. ¡°It¡¯s likely a product of a combined ability¡ªseveral hunters working together, probably on behalf of the Association, to create this environment. It means they¡¯re manipulating the space and terrain as part of the test.¡±


    ¡°Right, so the terrain changes wouldn¡¯t be random, but intentional,¡± Selena murmured thoughtfully. ¡°That means any route we take won¡¯t stay the same for long.¡±


    It was an obvious assumption.


    No way would they make it easy.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I replied. ¡°I suspect the labyrinth shifts every few minutes, so we can¡¯t rely on backtracking for safety. And as you already noticed, flight is restricted. The Association is enforcing a no-kill rule, so we avoid other hunters for now.¡±


    Wolf let out a quiet breath, clearly relieved to hear we¡¯d be keeping our distance from the other teams. ¡°So, we¡¯re just focused on the constructs then?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Our objective is to hunt the minotaur constructs. They¡¯ll be tough, close to cryptid-level strength. That means every fight needs to be planned. We lure them to us and fight on our terms, not theirs.¡±


    I laid out everything I knew about the creature we¡¯d soon be facing. "Minotaur was a cryptid found only in the Forbidden Region. Imagine a giant with the head of a bull and the body of a man. It was capable of spatial manipulation and brute physical strength beyond most hunters'' limits. Fortunately, what we¡¯re dealing with here is a construct¡ªan imitation created for this test. It¡¯ll be weaker than the real thing but still nothing to underestimate."


    Wolf listened, nodding as I spoke, then chimed in. ¡°Actually¡­ I¡¯m a Seeker and a Tracker sub-type,¡± he offered a bit shyly, ¡°so I can track non-human creatures too. It should work for tracking something like this Minotaur construct.¡± His expression was almost sheepish, but there was a hint of confidence in his eyes. ¡°If you¡¯re okay with it, I can lead the way.¡±


    I exchanged a glance with the others. Selena shrugged, clearly indifferent, and Kara just gave a quick nod, satisfied. I agreed, and Wolf took the lead, beginning to focus his senses on finding a path to our target.


    Wolf¡¯s aura shifted, thin tendrils of energy radiating outward like invisible threads, probing the area for traces. I could feel the hum of his ability through our aura link. It was a faint pulsing that guided us as he honed in on something just out of sight.


    We moved forward in cautious silence, our steps careful against the uneven floor. Every so often, I scanned the shifting stone walls, noting how they seemed to ripple in places. The labyrinth¡¯s shape would subtly alter itself once in a while.


    Suddenly, a low rumbling rolled through the corridor. It made the ground tremble beneath us. A heavy, rhythmic thud-thud filled the space, each step accompanied by the faint, metallic rattle of some ancient, grinding mechanism.


    The sound grew louder.


    It reverberated off the stone walls as the unmistakable scent of machine oil drifted into the air.


    ¡°Showtime,¡± Wolf whispered, his voice barely above a breath, his tone tense but prepared.


    The source of the footsteps finally emerged. It was a massive shadow stretching down the corridor. The construct lumbered into view. The imposing creature possessed a bull-like form twisted with metallic parts that gleamed darkly in the dim light. Its face was a grotesque fusion of bull and machine, red eyes glowing ominously in its mechanical skull. Vents on its shoulders hissed and spat steam, making it appear both monstrous and ancient. It stood at least eight feet tall with fists that looked like iron anvils clenched at its sides.


    I kept my voice low and steady. ¡°Remember the plan. We hit fast and hard, don¡¯t give it a second to counter.¡±


    Selena¡¯s grin widened, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. ¡°Let¡¯s give our ¡®discordant little friend¡¯ a show, shall we?¡±


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    The Minotaur¡¯s head turned in our direction, its glowing eyes locking onto us, and a guttural, mechanical snarl rumbled from deep within its metal chest. Then, in an instant, it charged, the ground shaking beneath the force of its strides.


    I glanced back at Wolf, who was lingering at the edge of the group, looking more anxious than ready. ¡°Wolf, can you fight?¡±


    He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. ¡°Uuuh¡­ 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.¡±


    With a nod, I shifted my focus, reaching through the Soul Link. Drawing in the attributes I needed: Selena¡¯s Disguise Attribute, Kara¡¯s Wind Attribute, and Wolf¡¯s Observe Attribute.


    The Minotaur charged, iron-plated hooves hammering into the stone with a bone-rattling force that reverberated underfoot. It moved faster than I¡¯d anticipated, every step radiating an intense, hostile aura laced with the hum of machinery. Just being this close made my skin crawl, but I pushed that discomfort aside, tightening my grip and focusing on the Soul Link connection that tethered me to the others.


    ¡°Stay on your toes,¡± I murmured, pushing out an extra wave of aura from the labyrinth to reinforce them. ¡°Let it come.¡±


    Kara sprang to my right, her finger cymbals flashing as she gathered a swirling whirlwind into her hand. She glanced at me, eyes alight with a wicked gleam. ¡°What¡¯s it gonna be: offense or defense?¡±


    ¡°Offense,¡± I said without hesitation. ¡°Throw whatever you¡¯ve got at it.¡±


    Kara unleashed a cyclone with a grin. It was a violent wave of wind and dust aimed squarely at the Minotaur. The force hit it hard, whipping around its hulking body and obscuring its vision. The construct staggered, iron head scraping against the onslaught, but didn¡¯t slow down. It kept moving, its red eyes blazing through the storm, dead set on us.


    ¡°Brace yourselves,¡± I muttered, steeling myself for whatever came next.


    Selena needed no further prompting. With an almost nonchalant movement, she pulled out a bazooka from seemingly nowhere and took her shot. The round hit the Minotaur dead-on, an explosion bursting around its face, but it barely flinched, its thick armor untouched. I had to think fast.


    Drawing on the disguise and wind attributes, I crafted a series of afterimages, flickering illusions darting around the corridor. Thanks to Wolf¡¯s observe attribute, I could correct each tiny flaw in the illusions, perfecting the mirage. Selena discarded the bazooka and used her own illusion abilities to add a second layer of distortion, effectively hiding us as we spread out.


    I bolted to the left, keeping the Minotaur in my peripheral vision. Through the Soul Link, I could feel each teammate¡¯s position as clearly as if I could see them. Wolf hung back, way behind our formation, and Selena slipped to the creature¡¯s right, her steps so silent I¡¯d almost think she¡¯d vanished completely. Kara, meanwhile, had gained some altitude, hovering just above the ground, her aura flickering as she skirted the labyrinth¡¯s flying restrictions.


    The Minotaur plowed through the afterimages, annihilating them in seconds. Its red eyes swept the room, flickering with irritation as it recalibrated. I tightened my grip on the link between us, keeping a steady pulse in my aura, readying myself. This thing was relentless, but we had enough power pooled between us to stay one step ahead. All we had to do was keep moving, keep it guessing, and find that one weak point we needed.


    I heard Selena¡¯s voice in my head, using the Soul mark I left on her to converse.


    ¡°It is impact resistant¡­ We need a different strategy!¡±


    The Minotaur¡¯s eyes locked onto me, and in the blink of an eye, it lunged, descending on me like a boulder crashing from above. I barely had time to divert my aura, flooding it with the wind attribute to give myself a burst of speed. Just as its massive fist slammed down, I slid beneath its legs, feeling dirt and debris scatter in all directions. It had sensed me, somehow seeing past Kara¡¯s invisibility illusion as soon as my aura had spiked.


    I hit the ground in a roll, coming up in time to see its backhand swing, just barely evading the hulking metal fist. Kara appeared behind it, her finger cymbals clinking as she channeled her aura, unleashing a barrage of wind spears that tore through the air, aiming for its joints and back. But just as her attack hit, the Minotaur vanished, reappearing behind me with that guttural mechanical snarl.


    Its arm swung in a deadly arc, inches from my head. I dropped, ducking as the wind from its strike grazed past, the air feeling like blades on my skin. This thing had no hesitation, no faltering in its drive to crush anything in its path. I could hear Kara¡¯s frustrated hiss behind me, and through the Soul Link, I felt her gathering her aura again, prepping for another assault.


    Was it just me, or was this minotaur tougher than what the test should¡¯ve thrown at us?


    ¡°Now, go for its legs!¡± I commanded, and Selena didn¡¯t hesitate. She darted forward, managing to sink her dagger into one of the creature¡¯s exposed joints. Sparks flew as she twisted the blade, causing the minotaur to stumble.


    While the minotaur was impact-resistant, there were still some weak spots left exposed.


    Seeing the opening, I focused on the Soul Link, drawing in the collective energy from each of us to form a concentrated blow. I added the labyrinth¡¯s aura to my own, concentrating it all in my fist and transforming my aura into its Fighter State.


    ¡°Now!¡± I yelled, releasing everything into one focused blast as I performed an uppercut.


    The minotaur shot upward and was propelled several meters off the ground.


    In mid-air, the minotaur struggled, trapped within Kara¡¯s airless bubble. The echo of her finger cymbals resounded as a series of sonic blasts hammered the creature inside. But just as the assault reached its crescendo, the minotaur vanished, teleporting once again¡ªthis time, directly behind me. But I was ready for it. The beast was missing its left arm, and its left leg was malfunctioning from Kara''s earlier strikes.


    As it lunged, I anticipated its move and aimed a palm strike imbued with the wind attribute. The minotaur was still unnervingly quick, but I¡¯d already touched it once, which meant my Soul Link was primed. I connected to its aura, returning a burst of its own energy to force it into a backward teleport, throwing its attack off-balance.


    Its iron-plated fist swept past me, missing by mere inches, and my strike landed perfectly. I pushed the wind attribute through the minotaur¡¯s body, driving the force into its internal mechanisms. I felt the wind carve through its circuits like blades, the metal body buckling under pressure until¡ªbam¡ªit erupted in a scatter of shrapnel.


    The minotaur crumbled into a heap of smoldering, mangled parts.


    That was... easier than I thought...


    For one, no major injuries on my part or my team.


    ¡°Congratulations! You¡¯ve passed the fourth stage!¡± The voice of the announcer erupted from the shattered remains of the minotaur, his tone gratingly triumphant. ¡°Now, don¡¯t get too excited yet~ but surely, this deserves a reward!¡±

 25 Sudden Ambush

    Our surroundings shimmered, and in an instant, we were transported from the rubble-strewn maze to a grand, ornate lobby. The scent of food hit us first¡ªroasted meats, pastries, fresh fruits¡ªall laid out on long tables that stretched across the room. Hunters mingled around, voices buzzing with excitement and tension, as they took their time feasting and nursing whatever bruises and fatigue they¡¯d picked up along the way.


    I did a quick scan of the room, noticing several waiters and waitresses moving fluidly between tables. One of them seemed familiar, and I realized they¡¯d been one of the clerks from the registration area before the elimination round.


    Selena marched up to one of the waiters. ¡°Where are we?¡± she asked, a touch suspiciously.


    The waiter, with a practiced smile and a voice that could¡¯ve soothed a storm, replied, ¡°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 words had the kind of smooth polish that implied it was something he¡¯d said at least a hundred times.


    ¡°Rest stop, huh?¡± Kara muttered beside me, arms crossed, looking about as trusting of this setup as I felt.


    I shrugged. ¡°Better than a death maze, right? Let¡¯s eat while we can. No telling what¡¯s next.¡±


    Wolf, already eyeing a roasted pheasant leg, gave me an approving nod, as if I¡¯d just declared the best plan he¡¯d ever heard. But even as I picked up a plate and scanned the buffet, I couldn¡¯t shake the sense that we were still being watched, judged¡ªand possibly gauged with.


    Since awakening my connection attribute, I¡¯d developed an almost sixth sense for danger¡ªlike a faint, persistent prickle at the back of my mind, just enough to keep me wary. The room may have been a resting point, but that nagging feeling told me otherwise. I had a strong hunch that the assassins from the Elsewhere Cult, who¡¯d marked me some time already, were here, likely blending into the crowd of hunters as easily as anyone else.


    Beside me, Kara took a step forward and caught the attention of the same waiter. ¡°So, where¡¯s my license?¡± she asked, tapping her foot impatiently. It was a valid question; as far as I knew, only passing the first four stages was necessary for a license. The rest of the stages were optional¡ªand, if you were still sane after the fourth, apparently encouraged.


    The waiter gave her that same polished smile. ¡°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.¡±


    Kara, ever the picture of grace even when she was annoyed, sipped her drink through the veil that obscured half her face. It was both impressive and slightly awkward to watch. Wolf, on the other hand, had no reservations¡ªhe tore through a pheasant as if it were his last meal. Across from him, Selena, daintily scooped up bites of dessert, somehow managing to look like she belonged at a royal banquet.


    I wandered over to the drink dispenser and poured myself a glass of iced coffee, feeling the coolness seep through my fingers. I took a sip, letting the bitterness wake up my senses. Around us, more hunters were appearing, teleporting into the lobby in bursts of white light, each one stumbling a little as they adjusted to the change in scenery. Our group had finished early, so we had a bit of breathing room before the place grew more crowded. I glanced over at the timer mounted on the wall, which blinked out the remaining time until the fourth stage was officially closed¡ª1 hour and 39 minutes left.


    ¡°Still plenty of time,¡± I muttered, half to myself, half to the others.


    Kara caught my eye, lifting her glass. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan, Reynard? Stay here until the next round, or¡­?¡± Her eyes sparkled with barely concealed anticipation, a look I¡¯d come to recognize. She wasn¡¯t good at sitting still, especially when danger was afoot.


    This was Kara of the Undead Troupe we were talking about.


    ¡°Depends,¡± I replied, casually scanning the room. ¡°Sticking around seems easy enough.¡±


    I kept close to Selena, anticipation coiling tightly in my chest. Four stages, no attacks¡ªI should¡¯ve known they¡¯d wait until we were in the thick of so-called "safety." But I barely had time to curse my luck before Selena yanked me forward by the wrist, and I felt the whoosh of two knives slicing the air right where I¡¯d been standing.


    Without missing a beat, Selena¡¯s hands blurred, and suddenly, she was gripping a pair of Uzis that she¡¯d summoned from nowhere. Gunfire erupted, and the crowd scattered as bullets tore into the attacker¡ªa man wearing an orange vest and goggles. The assault should¡¯ve been over, but the figure didn¡¯t drop. The bullets ripped into it, yes, but instead of blood, shredded fabric and sawdust spilled out. A mannequin.


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    I cursed under my breath. There were two of them, not one.


    How could I tell? I could detect two different auras from the mannequin. It was so blatantly obvious Selena would have seen it too.


    Pulling from Selena¡¯s disguise attribute, I wove myself into the crowd¡¯s confusion, hidden among the fleeing hunters. Skirting along the edge, I moved closer to Kara. She shot me a frown as I sidled up to her, and I flashed her a reassuring smile.


    Selena reloaded smoothly, her eyes sweeping the crowd for any sign of the second ambusher.


    ¡°Hand,¡± I muttered, extending mine to Kara. She rolled her eyes but stretched out her hand anyway. The moment I gripped it, I siphoned her sound attribute, the faint hum of her aura threading through me.


    ¡°You owe me one,¡± she said, barely concealing her disgust.


    The ability to tamper with the aura of others wasn¡¯t looked favorably, so it was understandable.


    Another volley of bullets echoed from Selena¡¯s Uzis, tearing through more mannequins on the left side of the room. Hunters scattered, ducking for cover as the chaos intensified. Masked by my disguise and the sound-dampening effect of Kara¡¯s attribute, I slipped into the crowd, grabbing a fork stabbed into a brownie from a nearby table as I passed. I took a casual bite, blending in effortlessly, even as the scene around us unraveled.


    I moved toward a woman in a yellow dress dripping with ornate jewelry. She hardly noticed me until the fork pierced her throat, her scream echoing before I drove it into her eye. Her face contorted, a burst of shock freezing her features, sending the other hunters darting away. Just what I needed. The cry gave me the brief chance to sync with her aura, letting me take over her mannequin ability. I could feel the control as her mannequins responded to me, like puppets on a string.


    ¡°Let¡¯s end this mess,¡± I muttered, bringing my boot down on her skull with a satisfying crunch, scattering her power across the floor in a sudden, bloody release.


    The woman had been a Maker type, and her puppetry attribute now flowed through me like a second set of senses, giving me a direct line to every mannequin she¡¯d controlled. Forty-seven in total, each one bristling with concealed knives ready to be unleashed. I sensed the shift a moment before it happened¡ªseveral knives jerked in mid-air, honing in on me with unsettling accuracy. Another hunter, a Seeker type, must¡¯ve been imbuing his own aura to guide their path.


    I didn¡¯t panic. Moving with calculated efficiency, I sidestepped each knife, thanks to Wolf¡¯s Observation attribute I recharged earlier and the enhanced hearing provided by Kara¡¯s Sound attribute. Dodging was almost too easy, and I stepped between the projectiles, weaving through the attack. Then, I pulled my mannequins close, using my puppetry attribute to block the blades mid-air, forcing them to a halt within their frames. Whoever had made these mannequins had crafted them to perfection, human enough to deceive anyone at a glance.


    The other knives within my vicinity refused to move as per the ambusher¡¯s will as I suppressed them by tagging them with my Soul Link.


    Across the room, Selena and I shared a quick look. She gave me a nod, recognizing I had the situation under control. She slipped a pair of night-vision goggles from her inventory, slipped them on, and fired at the chandeliers. With each shot, lights shattered one after another, the room plunging deeper into shadow. I crouched low, pulling the mannequins tighter in a defensive arc around me. Now, with sound as my main guide, I could sense the exact positions of anyone nearby.


    Every step, every frantic breath from the hunters scattered in the dark painted a precise map for me, one that would make any further attacks futile.


    Gunshots echoed again, and I knew Selena had the Seeker-type hunter in her sights. I felt a few stray projectiles whizz by as hunters scrambled, shouting and cursing, each one vying for a shred of cover. It was chaos, but the frenzy didn¡¯t last long. Within minutes, an eerie silence settled over the room, and then¡ªlight.


    The chandelier above seemed untouched, casting an unsettling glow on the lobby. In the center of it all stood a figure dressed in an immaculate black suit and top hat. His face wasn¡¯t flesh and bone but a dark, shifting mass of aura, like a shadow brought to life in three dimensions. His aura cast a heavy, unnatural stillness that made the hair on my arms stand on end. He looked like an animated silhouette, and his presence demanded attention.


    I glanced left and spotted Selena bound in chains, her eyes sharp and narrowed, but her body was restrained. To his right stood a young man in his early twenties with gray hair and a scowl that could kill. Dressed in a white suit, he looked like he had no intention of hiding his hostility¡ªno doubt another agent of the Elsewhere Cult¡ªprobably the Seeker who was after me..


    The shadowy figure spoke, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that was impossible to ignore. ¡°Oh, such ruckus! My apologies on behalf of the Association for allowing¡­ this little disturbance to unfold.¡± He tipped his hat with a slight flourish. ¡°I am Silhouette, your gracious host for this exam.¡± The voice struck me instantly. It was the same voice that had guided us through each stage, the one that had injected humor and warnings alike.


    "Such a travesty," Silhouette murmured, flicking his wrist as a mass of shadow tentacles slithered across the floor, lifting the body of the woman I¡¯d killed to rest at his feet. His tone was half-amused, half-disappointed. "What happened to the no-kill rule I so generously imposed?"


    I took a step forward, meeting his gaze or his face without flinching. "It was an act of self-defense."


    Silhouette¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but his voice took on a sharp edge. "And your proof?"


    "I can¡¯t give you proof," I replied coolly. "Not now, anyway. The woman¡¯s dead."


    "How convenient." A voice chimed in from my left, and I turned to see the gray-haired young manstill bound in place but glaring at me with a forced smugness. ¡°My name is Gerry Mansell, of House Mansell. I swear on my House that that man killed her without provocation!"


    Ah. So that was the angle he was playing now, given that they¡¯d been caught red-handed.

 26 The Silhouette

    "It¡¯s irrelevant," I said evenly, keeping my stance calm. I had a strong suspicion as to why they¡¯d timed their ambush now, here, in the so-called ¡°safe zone.¡±


    I crossed my arms, feeling anything but intimidated. "The no-kill rule only applied during the exam itself. This is a stopover."


    Silhouette¡¯s voice was cold as he gave a warning. "Mere sophistry won¡¯t get you out of this."


    I met his inhuman gaze head-on. "I have no interest in spinning tales. I¡¯m being frank. I killed that¡­ woman in self-defense. And if you hadn¡¯t bound him, I would have done the same to him," I said, glancing pointedly at Gerry, ¡°given he¡¯s a threat to me. Right now, it¡¯s only my word against his, unless you can provide some irrefutable evidence that I acted in bad faith. If you can, then I welcome any punishment you see fit.¡±


    The hunters in the room didn¡¯t owe me any loyalty¡ªthey were strangers. Still, I¡¯d said enough to make them hesitate. Hunters might be reluctant to get involved, but they were also witnesses, intentionally or not. They¡¯d have to consider this ¡°investigation¡± carefully, especially given Silhouette¡¯s power.


    Silhouette was formidable¡ªno question about it. A direct fight was out of the question, and he knew it. But a case? That might be my only edge.


    Gerry¡¯s scowl deepened, his voice 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, one slender finger rising as shadowy slime wrapped around Gerry¡¯s mouth, silencing him. ¡°Hush... I¡¯m thinking.¡± He frowned thoughtfully, muttering, ¡°Such an unpleasant development¡­¡±


    That¡¯s when Wolf stepped forward, his hand raised hesitantly. ¡°Uh, excuse me, sir. I¡¯d like to stand as a witness if possible. I believe¡­¡± He glanced at me, clearly struggling to remember my name.


    ¡°Reynard,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Yes! I believe Mr. Reynard is innocent, and like he said¡­ it was in self-defense. I saw it myself¡ªI have a good eye for these things.¡± He pulled a pair of knives from his pocket, handing them to Silhouette with a firm nod. ¡°I saw this pair used as projectiles.¡±


    Then Kara stepped forward. ¡°It¡¯s as the boy said. This man is innocent.¡±


    I folded my arms, keeping my gaze fixed on Silhouette, and let my tone sharpen. ¡°It¡¯s clear the Association doesn¡¯t concern itself with the weak, only taking action after the fact instead of preventing the offense in the first place. Surely, if you¡¯d wanted to stop this, you¡¯d have teleported me out of harm¡¯s way¡ªafter all, you¡¯re capable of that. But no, you waited. So, who¡¯s really responsible for that woman¡¯s death?¡±


    Silhouette¡¯s dark eyes flitted from me to the others and back, his expression tightening as if he, too, sensed where the blame could just as easily fall.


    ¡°Well played,¡± Silhouette muttered with a hint of amusement in his voice as he released the chains binding both Gerry and Selena.


    The second Gerry¡¯s hands were free, his face contorted in fury, and he summoned a pair of gleaming daggers, leveling them at me with an intense, murderous glare. ¡°I can¡¯t let this stand! I am going to¡ª¡±


    But before he could finish, Silhouette moved with blinding speed, his hand clamping around Gerry¡¯s throat. The room grew still, shadows flickering ominously as Silhouette¡¯s aura pressed down, each word he spoke making the lights pulse in time.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he warned, his voice a quiet, menacing command. ¡°Just don¡¯t. I don¡¯t care if you want to murder him, but not in my presence. Do you understand, boy? Blink once if you understand.¡±


    Gerry¡¯s wide eyes stared in panic, his face turning a shade paler. He blinked once, reluctantly conceding.


    ¡°Good.¡± Silhouette¡¯s grip loosened, and he let Gerry drop, who staggered backward, coughing and seething.


    I met Silhouette¡¯s gaze and nodded, understanding just how serious he was.


    ¡°Now, I have derailed too much,¡± Silhouette sighed, summoning a cane from thin air. He tapped it twice against the floor, and the energy around us shifted, calming to an eerie stillness. ¡°Congratulations, you all have passed!¡±


    An awkward silence followed, thick with disbelief and unease.


    Silhouette frowned, tapping the cane again, his voice cool and demanding. ¡°Applause, will you?¡±


    Reluctantly, we all clapped, the sound uneven but persistent under his expectant gaze.


    ¡°Now,¡± Silhouette continued, ¡°you have two pathways before you.¡± He gestured first to the left. ¡°Here, you may claim your licenses and be free from the exam.¡±


    Then, sweeping his cane to the right, he added, ¡°To my right lies a path that leads to luxury suites where you may rest and prepare. But be warned¡ªtomorrow, the true test of abilities will resume, and it is not just about a license. No ¡®no-kill¡¯ rule will be enforced for the remainder of the exam. If you wish to continue, be aware: you will risk death.¡±


    Silhouette¡¯s voice took on a deeper tone. ¡°Retreating now is not shameful,¡± he warned. ¡°If you¡¯re new to aura, I strongly advise against continuing. A license alone will serve you well enough to start your hunter lifestyle.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    A hunter in a weathered cowboy hat piped up, curiosity plain on his face. ¡°What¡¯s so special about the latter half, anyway? I thought a license was all we were here for.¡±


    Silhouette gave a small, knowing smile. ¡°You¡¯d be right, in part. The latter exams offer more than a license¡ªthey¡¯re an opportunity to become stronger. During these stages, you¡¯ll be shown advanced aura applications, techniques that go beyond what most hunters learn. Hidden judges will be grading each of you. This ranking system is a new experiment, the chairman¡¯s recent initiative and you¡¯re the first to experience it.¡±


    His eyes scanned the room, locking briefly with each of ours before he continued. ¡°But the true prize of these final stages isn¡¯t the knowledge gained along the way¡­ it¡¯s the golden pass.¡±


    A murmur went through the room. I knew the golden pass was more than just a status symbol¡ªit was a gateway to the highest echelons of hunter society, granting access to resources and missions only the elite could touch.


    This new system was the chairman¡¯s way of future-proofing the Association¡¯s hold over the hunter world. Right now, the golden pass wasn¡¯t anything vital¡ªmore of a badge than a requirement. But in time, that would change. More unofficial hunters would start to see the benefits of aligning with the Association, especially under a chairman as young and ambitious as ours, someone who seemed to know exactly what he was doing.


    Silhouette tapped his cane once more, the sharp sound pulling us back to attention. ¡°Now, feel free to decide your own paths¡­ I won¡¯t bother you more than necessary.¡± His dark gaze swept over us, lingering just long enough to make an impression. ¡°With that, it¡¯s time for me to go. Until then¡­¡±


    With a burst of aura and a swirl of shadows, Silhouette vanished, swallowed by the energy as if he were never there.


    ¡°Goddamn it!¡± Selena flipped the entire table, sending everything on it scattering across the floor. ¡°He just appeared... without a word!¡± she snarled, storming off toward the path for those continuing their exams. Her footsteps echoed with a fury that matched her mood.


    I couldn¡¯t blame her. I understood exactly where her frustration came from¡ªSilhouette was her biological father, after all. One of the Seven Extremes, he represented the Trickster¡¯s Pillar. Most people didn¡¯t know him as a hunter; he was far better known as the founder of the Black Guard, a powerful, government-adjacent paramilitary group almost on par with the Hunter¡¯s Association itself.


    Silhouette was certainly an oddity. Despite being one of the Seven Extremes¡ªthe strongest hunters in the world¡ªhe was probably the least known among them. And that was just how he wanted it.


    Kara walked up to me, her expression remained hidden under her veil. ¡°I guess this is it,¡± she said.


    ¡°You have no plans of continuing?¡± I asked, though I already knew the answer.


    ¡°No,¡± she replied simply. ¡°I¡¯ve acquired what I wanted here, so it¡¯s time for me to go. Farewell.¡± She paused and glanced at me for a second longer. ¡°And remember, you owe me one.¡±


    Typical Kara¡ªstraight to the point, and always leaving with the upper hand.


    As I watched Kara disappear down the hall, I nearly jumped when I realized Wolf had managed to sneak up on me. I turned around, keeping my face calm, but inwardly, I was on edge. There was something about Wolf that had always felt off. I could never quite put my finger on it, but he wasn¡¯t what he seemed.


    He looked like a harmless kid as usual, smiling in that easy, carefree way of his. ¡°I¡¯ll be heading out too,¡± he said, extending his hand for a handshake. ¡°Sheesh, I¡¯d like to keep going, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m up for it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a big help.¡± I clasped his hand, only for him to tighten his grip and yank me closer. The harmless look in his eyes vanished, replaced by something sharp and predatory¡ªthe gaze of a full-grown wolf.


    Wolf leaned in and murmured in a low, dangerous whisper, ¡°How is your wife doing?¡±


    I tried to tap into his aura using Soul Link, hoping to get a read on him. Nothing. My ability hit a solid wall, blocked entirely.


    Wolf¡¯s grin widened. ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough of what you can do¡­ cute trick.¡± He paused, letting the words hang in the air before he added, ¡°Hey, how about joining my Troupe?¡±


    A chill ran down my spine. I¡¯d never noticed it before. That was how good he was.


    The Undead Troupe.


    Motherfucker.


    ¡°No,¡± I said, keeping my tone steady. The offer was tempting, I¡¯d admit that. If the Troupe had been fully formed, they¡¯d stand a real chance at wiping out the Elsewhere Cult. But they were still in their recruitment phase, not quite the force they aspired to be. ¡°Your teammate Kara seemed oblivious to your games¡­ You sent her on a task, and then what? Why couldn¡¯t you trust her with a simple errand like getting a license?¡±


    Wolf¡ªor whoever he was¡ªlet out a chuckle, unbothered. ¡°What¡¯s the word? Ah~ fool your friends, fool your enemies¡­ nah, who cares, right?¡±


    I could feel it¡ªthe subtle but unmistakable threat in his grip. He could snap me in half in an instant if he wanted to.


    The hunter world was ruthless, where strength dictated survival. If I backed down now, he¡¯d see me as weak. And in this world, that meant being used¡­ or worse. So, I made my move. I activated the disguise attribute I had, the last remnant of my own hidden power, and began to unravel his fa?ade.


    Gradually, Wolf¡¯s dark hair faded to a brown shade. His forgettable face became sharper, more defined. He grew a few centimeters taller, shifting from a late teen¡¯s appearance to that of a young man in his early twenties.


    ¡°You look uglier without your glasses,¡± I taunted as if I could do much more than just unravel his illusions. I even threw in a name, driving home my point. ¡°So, what¡¯s it gonna be¡­ Loki?¡±


    For a brief second, his expression faltered. The smirk returned quickly, however, but I saw the unmistakable flash of surprise.


    Loki O. Loki. That was the name of the boss of the Undead Troupe.


    In my novel, he was the kind of villain who thrived on theatrics and the art of pretending to be weak. His backstory was¡­ let¡¯s just say it was complicated. Those initials¡ªL.O.L.¡ªmight sound ridiculous to the unknowing ear, but in time, the mere mention of them would send a chill through anyone marked by the notorious Loki.


    I¡¯d based him loosely on the God of Mischief from Norse mythology, so naturally, he was strong¡ªabsurdly so.


    ¡°Since you refused my offer, then I guess there¡¯s nothing I can do.¡± Loki started to pull his hand back, but I tightened my grip, holding it firm. It was a reckless move, maybe even suicidal, but it was as good a chance as any to test him.


    ¡°Let go,¡± he said, letting a sliver of killing intent seep through. I felt it prickle along my skin, but I ignored it.


    ¡°What do you think of a job for me?¡± I asked.


    With the current state of the Undead Troupe, taking down the Prophet would be impossible. Sure, they could hit a few Elsewhere Cult bases, but it would be a waste of time. The cult would just rebuild, using resources from their Nightmare Realities: realms where they harvested gold, jewels, artifacts, and even captured hunters.


    Loki¡¯s hand shifted, becoming a mist that slipped free from my grasp. ¡°What job? 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? Now, ask me¡­ what¡¯s the price of such information?¡±

 27 Loki’s Dream

    Loki had a single, consuming dream: the destruction of the Hunter World.


    To achieve it, he¡¯d need wealth, a notorious reputation, and an army. That was why he formed the Undead Troupe. His childhood had been a nightmare in itself¡ªgrown from a tube, raised in a sterile lab, and taught to kill from the moment he could stand.


    And he despised every bit of it.


    He resented how they¡¯d torn him from his parents and from any semblance of a real life. Eventually, once he¡¯d grown powerful enough, he¡¯d wiped out the research facility that created him, leaving no trace of the inhuman experiments born there.


    As he dismantled his creators one by one, they¡¯d let slip a dark truth: he was a clone, built from the DNA of a powerful hunter. His ¡®father¡¯ had supposedly sent his own DNA samples and aura patterns¡ªeverything needed for the facility to engineer Loki to their specifications. The idea that his so-called father had willingly cooperated with them had been a curiosity to him, even now after all those years. He had no name, no face¡ªjust this shadow of a man who had contributed to his creation and then abandoned him to this twisted fate.


    So when Reynard dangled the promise of information in front of him, Loki found himself strangely shaken. The knowledge of his parentage was so close he could nearly reach out and seize it.


    "Are you certain?" he murmured, his voice laced with warning. "I don¡¯t like¡­ liars."


    ¡°Ironic,¡± Reynard remarked, his tone pointed as he referenced Loki¡¯s notorious habits of lying and manipulation.


    ¡°Can¡¯t blame me for that,¡± Loki replied, flashing a harmless smile. ¡°You¡¯d hate it too if you¡¯d been lied to especially if it was a byproduct of ill intent, wouldn¡¯t you? And, honestly, you probably wouldn¡¯t feel a shred of guilt if you were the one lying. After all, lying is just¡­ human. Maybe it¡¯s what sets us apart from beasts.¡±


    Reynard ignored the bait, walking to the table to grab a dessert, casually selecting a cup of fruit salad.


    Loki¡¯s smile faltered, revealing a hint of impatience. ¡°Am I making you peckish?¡±


    ¡°I disagree,¡± Reynard said calmly. ¡°It¡¯s not lying that sets us apart from beasts. Beasts lie, too. A chameleon changes its colors to survive. Small creatures puff themselves up to look larger, hoping to scare away predators. Lying isn¡¯t a purely human trait¡ªit¡¯s just another survival tactic. And for a Trickster? It¡¯s as essential as hunting.¡±


    ¡°What is it that sets humans apart from beasts, then?¡± Loki asked, probing Reynard¡¯s personality.


    But Reynard ignored his question again, steering the conversation elsewhere. ¡°You see, I am a Dealer¡­ and I make deals. How does eight favors sound for the information I hold?¡±


    Loki shook his head. ¡°I can give you three¡­ take it or leave it. Just remember, if I owe you a favor, the entire Undead Troupe owes you as well. Use me, and you¡¯re using them. Isn¡¯t that the perfect deal?¡±


    Reynard paused, calmly spooning pieces of fruit from his salad and chewing thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind,¡± he said at last. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of selling you the information in full, but now¡­ I¡¯d rather sell it piecemeal.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Loki resisted the urge to lash out, feeling the frustration build. He knew Reynard was toying with him, yet the need for that information gnawed at him. If he intended to tear down the Hunter World, he might as well start with his father. ¡°Spit it out¡­ unless you¡¯ve been bluffing this whole time and have no information on what I wanted.¡±


    ¡°So you need it, huh?¡± Reynard remarked offhandedly.


    Need, not want. Reynard was quite sly.


    Loki clicked his tongue in annoyance, though he kept it hidden. He put on his best merchant¡¯s persona and replied, ¡°Not so much a need, more of a preference¡­ It would be better to have the information you¡¯re offering, but if we can¡¯t meet in the middle, I¡¯m fine with letting it go. How about gold? Money? Property? Surely you can be more flexible, now that you¡¯re a member of the Hunter Association.¡±


    ¡°No, I only accept favors as currency in my business¡­ you should know that by now.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Loki replied begrudgingly. ¡°Sell it to me piecemeal. But if I find the information lacking, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Reynard remarked, ¡°Your father has been with us since the beginning, you know.¡±


    Loki frowned. He enjoyed a good dose of theatrics and verbal sparring, but he hated being on the receiving end, especially when he was losing so miserably. ¡°And who would that be?¡± he asked, trying to mask his frustration.


    Reynard only smirked, watching Loki¡¯s reaction with amusement.


    Loki could kill him right now¡­ or maybe torture the information out of him. The temptation was making him anxious. But then Reynard¡¯s words sank in, and Loki froze. He couldn¡¯t believe what he¡¯d just heard. He looked at Reynard, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Who did you say?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Silhouette. The same man who hosted the exams¡­ the one who was standing here just seconds ago.¡±


    Loki¡¯s eyes widened as the truth hit him like a storm.


    ¡°Proof,¡± Loki demanded.


    There had been no records of his so-called father at the facility where he was born. If there ever had been, they¡¯d likely been erased with prejudice.


    Reynard offered his proof calmly. ¡°L. O. L. The initials carved under your left abdomen. Of course, you don¡¯t know what it means, but that was your father¡¯s name¡­ or rather, Silhouette¡¯s name before he disappeared off the grid.¡±


    Loki¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Do you know what those initials stand for?¡±


    Reynard shook his head. ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    ¡°How is your ¡®proof¡¯ relevant to my father¡¯s name? It proves nothing¡­¡± Loki said, refusing to be fooled. ¡°If anything, it only proves you don¡¯t know it. Hmmm¡­ unless you actually know what those initials stand for?¡±


    ¡°Calm down and don¡¯t be impatient,¡± Reynard replied, setting down his dessert and walking over to him. ¡°Lance O¡¯Brien Law. That was his name. Came from a family of lawyers, graduated top of his class at the police academy, killed in the line of duty¡­ later resurfaced as the hunter Nightfury, and then vanished from the scene. But in reality, he¡¯d simply changed his name to Silhouette.¡±


    Loki nodded thoughtfully. He knew he¡¯d need to confirm the information on his end. If he discovered any falsehoods, the favors he promised today would be void.


    Reynard was looking at him expectantly.


    It was time to settle the payment.


    ¡°That should be worth three favors,¡± Loki stated, crossing his arms.


    Reynard¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously. ¡°Don¡¯t get smart with me. I gave you three distinct pieces of information: your father¡¯s true name, his life before that, and his civilian identity. Just to break it down for you¡ªSilhouette, Nightfury, and Lance O¡¯Brien Law. Now tell me, wouldn¡¯t that be worth eight favors? Especially considering the rarity of this information now in your hands¡­ And given that it concerns Silhouette himself, that only makes it more valuable.¡±


    Loki exhaled, conceding reluctantly. ¡°You drive a hard bargain. Fine.¡±


    Reynard smirked. ¡°What else? Ah~! Don¡¯t try to weasel out of your payment. I have my ways to make sure my clients always pay their dues.¡±


    Loki could imagine plenty of ways a high-level information broker like Reynard might enforce the favors he was owed. Who knew what kind of dirt Reynard was hiding and what sort of hunters he had under his thumb? Loki didn¡¯t want to make an enemy of him, especially with the Undead Troupe still far from reaching its full potential.


    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± Loki said, turning to leave¡ªuntil Reynard called out one last time.


    ¡°Wolf, if you ever want to know more about dear old daddy, just give me a call¡­ because I still have lots of information to offer you...¡±


    A card flew at Loki, and he caught it with ease. It was a tarot card representing The Fool.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lose it,¡± Reynard added.


    Loki inspected the card and noticed something written on it with aura¡ª it was Reynard¡¯s contact number and a short message: ¡®Thank you for your patronage. You get the VIP, my curious Querent. Congratulations.¡¯ It was signed, The Author.


    And there wasn''t even an ''Author'' in the tarot deck... how presumptuous.


    Loki immediately understood the hidden function in the tarot card now in his palm. He realized he could communicate with Reynard covertly with the embedded aura from the tarot card. Carefully, he covered the card with his own aura, cautious not to activate any possible tracking or hidden tricks.


    How shameful would it be if a trickster of his level got tricked?


    Loki walked out of the venue, deciding not to continue the exam. Waiting for him just outside was Kara, still in her revealing outfit.


    ¡°This is awkward,¡± Loki muttered. ¡°I got found out¡­¡±


    Kara¡¯s eyes seemed to smile. ¡°It was Reynard¡­ that guy told me. He slipped a piece of paper into my hand during the attack and said I could either interpret it as him paying the favor or as me owing him one. Apparently, he likes to clear his debts quickly. But since I¡¯d much rather have him in my debt, I chose the latter, obviously.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about the ambush on Reynard¡¯s life, huh?¡± Loki said. ¡°His special ability is strange. I¡¯d like him on the Troupe, but he rejected my offer. Are we still good?¡±


    Kara nodded. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I know you weren¡¯t keeping tabs on me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Loki sighed. ¡°I really wanted to recruit that guy. I even thought maybe we could strike a double deal¡ªbring him in, and you could recruit his wife¡­ but he seems dead set on joining the Association. It¡¯s a pity.¡±


    ¡°Then why send me?¡± Kara asked. ¡°Having two licenses in the Troupe seems redundant.¡±


    ¡°Because I had no plans of showing up myself,¡± Loki replied. ¡°But I heard the ¡®Author¡¯ recently made a move. Just a little while ago, he hired a few hunters and went on a rampage, slaughtering some wealthy types and a few unofficial hunters. Of course, there¡¯s no evidence linking it back to him, which is why there¡¯s no Hunt Order on his head. I think he¡¯s looking to join the Association to get a license to kill, or something like it. Best to keep clear of his path. He¡¯s useful, after all.¡±


    They arrived at the entrance, where a sleek limo was waiting for them.


    The Hunter World was about to enter an era of turmoil¡­ and the Undead Troupe would be at the forefront of it. What role the Author would play in the turmoil? No one could tell, but Loki was looking forward to it.

 28 Miss You

    After finishing my food, I left the venue, feeling pleasantly full, and headed toward the luxury suite I¡¯d been promised. The exam wasn¡¯t over yet, and if I wanted to keep my edge, I¡¯d need rest. This entire setup was unlike anything I¡¯d seen in recent years¡ªthe elaborate venue, the VIP treatment.


    It wasn¡¯t like I had seen much of this world. But who was I to complain? If they wanted to play up the theatrics, I could match them step for step.


    My mind lingered on Loki¡¯s reaction. I had watched his expressions closely¡ªsubtle flickers of irritation and a flash of interest he tried to hide. I knew he was tempted by the offer, and while he¡¯d accepted my terms, I had no illusions that Loki would walk away satisfied. He¡¯d be back, whether he liked it or not. Information was my currency, and he was practically starving for it.


    As I reached my suite, the lights dimmed automatically, and a welcome message from the Association blinked on a sleek screen embedded in the wall. I ignored it and dropped onto the bed, feeling the plush, downy softness pull me in.


    I¡¯d secured Loki¡¯s curiosity, and Kara, as much as she liked to act indifferent, was watching closely. It was only a matter of time before one of them made the next move. And when they did, I¡¯d be ready to deal¡ªon my terms.


    What was next?


    I considered talking to Selena, but given her current mental state, it seemed wiser to wait until tomorrow. Instead, I took out my tarot cards, each marked with my Soul Mark. These cards were more than just symbols¡ªthey were VIP passes of sorts, reserved for people I wanted to build connections with. I had no interest in starting my own organization, but expanding my network was essential.


    The ¡®Author¡¯¡ªthe persona I¡¯d crafted so carefully¡ªcarried a certain prestige, and I planned to make full use of it. That reputation could open doors and give me access to people and information that few others could reach. Each card had a purpose, carefully tailored for each individual. I shuffled through them, studying each one. I¡¯d distributed them to two people already.


    I took out my phone and dialed my wife¡¯s number. I listened as it rang. Ring. Ring. Then a soft click.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Leora¡¯s voice came through.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± I said, a warmth seeping into my voice despite myself. ¡°How are you and Leon?¡±


    She let out a soft sigh. ¡°We¡¯re doing fine,¡± she replied, her voice softening. ¡°Leon¡¯s asleep now¡ªtook a bit, but he finally settled. He¡¯s got so much energy, even at two, always finding something new to get into.¡± She chuckled lightly.


    I smiled, picturing him. ¡°I can imagine. He¡¯s going to be keeping you on your toes.¡±


    ¡°He already does,¡± she said, a hint of laughter in her tone. Then, her voice grew serious. ¡°And¡­ are you all right? I heard this exam is¡­ different than usual.¡±


    I paused, choosing my words carefully. ¡°It¡¯s challenging, 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 from the game I was entrenched in. ¡°I will. I¡¯ll be back soon. Count on it.¡±


    ¡°You can call more often,¡± Leora suggested. ¡°We have a secure line.¡±


    ¡°I just called yesterday. This is as often as it gets,¡± I replied, half-joking.


    ¡°And what? I¡¯d hate it if you suddenly disappeared,¡± she said with a hint of worry in her voice. ¡°We need a schedule¡­ How about three times a week?¡±


    ¡°I refuse,¡± I said with a grin, ¡°I¡¯ll call¡­ seven times a week.¡±


    ¡°Eh? Won¡¯t you be busy?¡± she asked, surprised.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if something holds me up,¡± I assured her. Truthfully, I regretted not being able to talk to her as often as I wanted. Maybe I should¡¯ve given her one of my tarot cards; I¡¯d only recently crafted them and hadn¡¯t had the chance to hand one to her.


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    ¡°Anyway,¡± I continued, changing the subject, ¡°I just passed the first half of the exam. I¡¯m eligible for a license now, but I¡¯m aiming higher. I want to go all the way¡­ maybe even get myself a gold pass.¡±


    ¡°I feel bad,¡± Leora admitted. ¡°In the two years I went solo, I wasn¡¯t able to pull off something like this. You know, talk to you on the phone¡­¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t totally on you¡­¡± I reminded her. ¡°I hid in the mountains, remember?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked, sounding surprised. ¡°I don¡¯t think you ever told me that.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°No wonder I couldn¡¯t get a hold of you.¡± She sighed, but I could hear a bit of laughter there, too. ¡°Thankfully, the baby¡¯s healthy. We just came back from the hospital this afternoon. But still¡­ the mountains? You could have just hired a mundane family to take you in, bought some closed-off property, or even gotten a mobile home.¡±


    ¡°My bad¡­ paranoia kept me from even considering it,¡± I admitted.


    Leora chuckled. ¡°How long have you been a hunter, anyway?¡±


    I froze, thinking it over. I couldn¡¯t exactly tell her it¡¯d only been a few months. She¡¯d probably lose it and demand I come home so she could take on the hunting herself. In pure combat experience, she was leagues ahead of me, and we both knew it. After all, she gained her fame from combat.


    She went on, ¡°I never really realized it in the course of our marriage, though. I didn¡¯t detect any aura from you at first¡­ and when you handed Leon to me, your aura was practically nonexistent. That¡¯s unusual¡ªespecially since I¡¯m a Seeker with multiple sub-types.¡±


    Should I tell her the truth or keep up the front?


    I¡¯d gotten pretty good at subduing my aura¡¯s corona. With my naturally weak aura pool, compressing it made me look like any mundane person. Ironically, I¡¯d never even realized my wife was a hunter until recently, even through all the years of our marriage.


    Honestly, when it came to the hunter lifestyle, and especially my aura awakening, I was still green in so many ways.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I assured her, keeping my tone light. ¡°Trust me¡­ my theoretical knowledge of aura is impeccable. I practically created it.¡±


    It was the truth¡ªthough entirely in the wrong context. But hey, if it helped keep her off my back for now, I¡¯d take it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send something through Stefan,¡± I told her. ¡°A card with my Soul Mark on it. It¡¯ll allow you to call me in emergencies¡ªkind of like a convenient phone, but activated with aura. Takes a fair bit of aura to use, but it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    Leora¡¯s voice perked up. ¡°Really? That sounds¡­ perfect. Convenient, indeed.¡± She paused, then added, ¡°If I need saving, or if you need saving, we¡¯ll have it ready.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said. ¡°So, what card do you want?¡±


    ¡°Wait, I get to choose?¡± she asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.


    I grinned, though she couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°Of course. You¡¯ve got your pick from the tarot deck. What¡¯ll it be?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She paused, but I could hear the amusement in her voice. ¡°The Lovers, naturally,¡± she said, letting the words linger. ¡°Since, you know, it suits us.¡±


    I laughed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re something else, you know that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you love it,¡± she teased back.


    ¡°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 a little. ¡°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 like that was a comfort I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d needed.


    We talked for what felt like hours. Her voice softened gradually, and eventually, she fell asleep mid-sentence. I could almost hear the gentle rise and fall of her breathing from the other side of the line. I held the phone for a moment longer, smiling.


    Once I¡¯d hung up, I reached for my tarot deck, carefully sliding out The Lovers. I pressed my lips lightly against the card, feeling a pang of longing. How I missed her. Setting the card aside, I grabbed my phone and quickly texted Stefan, then shot him an email with details on the package I had in mind. A few minutes later, he replied with an address where I could send it.


    Walking over to the suite¡¯s phone, I dialed the front desk number listed in the Hunter Association pamphlet. They had a reputation for handling just about any request, and I knew their services were premium level. After a few rings, someone picked up.


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Bright, how can I assist you?¡±


    ¡°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.¡±


    When they arrived, I wrapped the card carefully in a handkerchief I¡¯d picked up earlier¡ªit would protect the card and its mark. Once it was ready, I handed the small bundle to the staff member and gave him Stefan¡¯s address.


    ¡°Handle with care,¡± I said as he left.


    As the door closed, I felt a sense of relief. Soon, she¡¯d have the card, and with it, a part of me would be closer to her.


    I lay down. My thoughts drifted to tomorrow¡¯s exam. The first half had been brutal enough; I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what was coming next. Passing meant getting closer to the golden pass. But that also meant tougher competition.


    For a moment, I thought back to the conversation with Leora. Her voice, steady and warm, had a way of grounding me. Oh¡­ how I missed her¡­ and how regretful I was for everything¡­ but now, I think I had a genuine chance of turning everything around.


    With that thought lingering, I allowed myself to sink into the mattress, the fatigue finally catching up. Tomorrow would be another challenge¡ªbut I¡¯d face it head-on, as always.

 29 Short Respite

    I woke up, blinking at the clock. 10 o¡¯clock AM. My pulse quickened for a second¡ªhad I slept through something important? They hadn¡¯t mentioned the exact time the exam would resume, but that uncertainty made me nervous.


    I should¡¯ve asked. Sometimes, I could be a real klutz.


    Reaching for my phone, I immediately noticed a string of missed calls from Selena. There was also a message waiting, and I opened it, already prepared for her usual¡­ intensity.


    I just broke into your room and 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. ¡ªfrom Selena.


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Typical Selena. Shaking my head, I saved her number in my contacts with a little note: ¡°Calls only when it¡¯s ¡®urgent.¡¯¡±


    With a smirk, I started to pull myself together. If today¡¯s exam was anything like yesterday¡¯s, I¡¯d need every bit of focus I had¡ªbetter get moving before she made good on her threat.


    After getting myself ready, I made my way down and flagged someone to ask for directions to the cafeteria. My stomach growled¡ªit was definitely time to eat. I followed the directions and finally reached the cafeteria, which was buzzing with early lunch chatter.


    I grabbed a tray and didn¡¯t hold back: pancakes stacked with syrup and butter, a hamburger loaded with toppings, a side of fries, a salad (to balance things out, of course), and a strong, hot coffee to wake up the last bits of my brain.


    As I took a seat, I glanced around, checking out the other examinees scattered across the room. They all looked focused, a few of them going over notes, some lost in thought, probably like me, wondering what the next phase would bring.


    I took a long sip of coffee, letting it cut through the lingering sleepiness. Today would be an interesting one.


    I was halfway through my stack of pancakes when Selena slumped down at the opposite end of the table, munching on a drumstick. She was staring at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes.


    I paused, raising an eyebrow. "What?"


    "You look like a horse when you eat," she said, her tone as dry as ever.


    I smirked, unfazed. "Thanks for that. Care to explain how you managed to keep track of me when I turned off the tracking function on the tarot card?"


    She shrugged, completely unbothered. "Bugged your phone. Also, your clothes."


    I sighed, pulling my phone out and handing it over to her. "Take them out."


    With a grin, she took the phone, plucking out a tiny tracking device from the case. ¡°For the record, I also left a few laser sensors, traps, and drones in your room. Just keeping up my end of the deal as your bodyguard.¡±


    I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°And I thought bodyguarding was a bit more subtle.¡±


    ¡°Subtlety¡¯s for amateurs,¡± she shot back, chomping down on her drumstick with a satisfied look. "You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡±


    Rolling my eyes, I picked up my coffee again. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Thanks, bodyguard.¡±


    Selena was truly talented. With her disguise attribute, she¡¯d managed to derive functions as far off as compression. The reason she could seemingly conjure things from thin air was because she was basically a walking arsenal, packed with weapons to the gills under her clothes. Only she could pull off being a one-person armory and make it look effortless.


    As I munched on my fries, I asked, ¡°Any idea where the test¡¯s next venue is?¡±


    The latter half of the hunter¡¯s examination was going to be on a much bigger scale, and something told me Selena would have more than a few insights. She paused, wiping her hands as she considered my question.


    ¡°They¡¯re being quiet about it, which usually means they¡¯ll go big with some unexpected venue,¡± she replied. ¡°My guess? We¡¯re looking at terrain change. Maybe a facility setup, probably hostile, or even survival-based, with limited resources.¡±


    I nodded, weighing her guess. It wouldn¡¯t be surprising if they threw us somewhere remote, where aura abilities could be stretched and tested to the extreme.


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    Selena¡¯s eyes glinted with excitement. ¡°We¡¯ll probably be in a real field this time¡ªnone of that staged lobby business. Makes things more interesting, right?¡±


    I smirked, crunching another fry. ¡°If by interesting, you mean grueling, then yeah.¡±


    It was pretty much in line with what I knew from the novel. The latter half of the exams would test a hunter¡¯s true mettle, pushing limits in a way the first half never could. That first phase was more of an initiation for mundanes than a real test for hunters.


    I glanced over at Selena. ¡°Any word on the new challengers?¡±


    The new challengers were a wildcard. They were hunters who¡¯d either delayed taking this part of the exam or were repeaters, people who¡¯d failed before and were giving it another shot.


    Selena smirked, clearly pleased with herself for bringing some fresh intel to the table. ¡°We have to look out for almost all of them¡­ but if we¡¯re narrowing it down, the most dangerous is the Spear God.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s prestigious.¡±


    The title alone meant a lot, and I was aware of the guy¡¯s heritage. He was the only son of Ranas, one of the Seven Extremes, and the living embodiment of the Fighter¡¯s pillar¡ªa Spear God in his own right. It was rumored that Ranas was getting old and was close to his last days. That meant challengers would be crawling out of the woodwork, hoping to prove themselves against his son, Ranas himself, or to any other fighter who dared claim one of the seven thrones of pinnacle hunter glory.


    The current chairman of the Hunter¡¯s Association was said to be the closest to becoming the next Extreme Fighter. If Ranas was really on his way out, that competition was bound to heat up in ways we hadn¡¯t even seen yet.


    I finished my brunch.


    Selena led the way. She explained that we¡¯d be taking the bullet train for the following week, heading to the next exam venue. I frowned but kept my suspicions to myself. A whole week of travel? It sounded like they were setting us up for something massive, deadly, or both.


    As we walked, Selena rattled off a list of the other contenders: Big Dwarf, Iron Fist, Palm Reader, and a few others. They all had fearsome nicknames that seemed well-known in the Hunter world, though none struck me as particularly intimidating.


    And then I stopped in my tracks.


    ¡°Come again?¡± I asked.


    She glanced back at me with a frown. ¡°Some guy called Diamond Black.¡±


    I gulped. That one made me nervous¡ªa little. But then I remembered he still owed me a favor. How many was it, again? I took out my notebook and flipped through, finding the entry. Sure enough, he still owed me one favor.


    I couldn¡¯t help but grin. Diamond Black might be terrifying, but knowing I had that card to play kept me from losing my cool.


    There were a lot of psychopaths in the world of Hunterworks. It was almost a requirement. In this line of work, if a person couldn¡¯t stomach a bit of psychopathic violence, couldn¡¯t recognize someone who was actually insane, or couldn¡¯t feign insanity themselves, they¡¯d end up in trouble¡ªor worse.


    Take Loki, for example. He loved pretending to be a psychopath, but he wasn¡¯t one. He just had a flair for the dramatic, the kind of guy who¡¯d throw himself into the role if it suited his purpose.


    But Diamond Black¡­ was an entirely different story. The last thing I wanted was to end up in his hands, used as one of his ¡°tools¡± for his hunts. He didn¡¯t go after regular cryptids or dangerous creatures when he hunted. No, he went after ¡°Devils.¡± And in this world, ¡°Devils¡± were a special kind of cryptid that promoted psychopathy, drawing out the worst in those around them.


    That was why I kept my distance from Diamond Black whenever I involved him in my work. I wasn¡¯t naive. I knew that someday I¡¯d cash in those favors from him¡ªbut I¡¯d always be cautious, knowing full well what I¡¯d be walking into.


    That was why I liked the ¡®favors¡¯ he owed me to be expended as early as possible.


    Sometimes, I was tempted to just cash in the favor he owed me in the form of money, but I liked the air of mystique and privilege I¡¯d established around my brand. I wouldn¡¯t want to ruin it.


    Selena glanced over at me, noticing my momentary hesitation. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    I forced a grin. ¡°No problem at all.¡±


    We arrived at the platform, and it was packed with people. There seemed to be some kind of commotion¡ªa crowd gathered in a loose circle around two men, both of whom seemed far from ordinary.


    One of them, with long dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail, wore a red robe over white pants. His clothing had an elegant, oriental style made of expensive fabric. His handsome face held a mix of annoyance and control as he stood with a spear slung casually over his shoulder. Even if I hadn¡¯t already guessed, the aura he exuded gave it away: this man was none other than Shen, the Spear God.


    Shen¡¯s voice was calm but carried a commanding edge. ¡°Apologize.¡±


    The other man looked like he¡¯d just walked in from a back alley. His clothes were coarse¡ªa rugged leather jacket that looked ready to fall apart, a grayish shirt that might¡¯ve once been white, fraying jeans, and a face that hadn¡¯t seen a wash in days. He smirked, clearly unfazed by Shen¡¯s demand.


    ¡°Apologize?¡± the man scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. ¡°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 words struck a nerve. Shen¡¯s jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his spear.


    I sighed, already feeling the tension radiating off Shen. This scene wasn¡¯t exactly the kind of start I had in mind for our journey. Selena, however, took the initiative, striding over to a beefy hunter who looked like he¡¯d been following the showdown from the beginning.


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal here?¡± she asked, her voice casual but curious.


    The big guy shrugged. ¡°That beggar over there? Seems like he¡¯s asking to get himself killed. Been taunting Shen from the moment he walked in.¡±


    I glanced over at the so-called beggar. He looked like he¡¯d seen better days¡ªor maybe he just didn¡¯t care. He seemed to be in his late middle age, though I couldn¡¯t be sure; under all that grime and with his grizzled look, he might have been younger if he¡¯d just bothered to take a shower.


    At that moment, the beggar spat¡ªright on Shen¡¯s shoe. The crowd¡¯s breath collectively caught, but he didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, he turned his back on Shen with a kind of casual indifference, as if he hadn¡¯t just insulted one of the most dangerous contenders in the exam.


    I knew that was a mistake.

 30 The Next Stage

    The fact that Shen hadn¡¯t managed to dodge that spit said everything¡ªthe beggar¡¯s skill level was a notch above his own, which clearly grated on Shen more than the disrespect itself. He lowered his voice as he threatened the beggar.


    ¡°I am going to prove to you my skill, you insufferable beggar.¡±


    His aura began to swell and spread, thickening the air around us. Typical Fighter aura, but concentrated to a degree that even I had to admit was impressive.


    The atmosphere felt like it was pressing down on my chest, almost suffocating. Selena yanked me by the cuff of my suit, her impatience cutting through the tension. I¡¯d dressed up a bit for today, sticking to my usual sharp style. Selena, on the other hand, was still wearing her clothes from yesterday, though they looked pristine¡ªshe must¡¯ve cleaned them up with her aura. She cast me an annoyed look, muttering about how I was too easily distracted and that we should get moving.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± I reassured her, unable to tear my eyes from the scene.


    Then, without warning, the suffocating aura disappeared. Shen looked baffled, his fierce expression flickering into confusion. I noticed why¡ªan unassuming, bald man with a calm, blank expression had his hand resting on Shen¡¯s shoulder. He looked almost too ordinary, but I knew better.


    It was the Hunter¡¯s Association chairman himself.


    For someone in a position of power, Bob was remarkably young-looking and had a sort of unassuming, almost fragile appearance. His aura barely registered, roughly stronger than mine, which¡ªgiven his rank¡ªwas odd. The only real standout feature he had was his bald head, so conspicuously shiny that it was almost painful to look directly at it. Maybe that¡¯s why he wore that short red cape¡­ though, honestly, the cape was just as hard to ignore. It was awkwardly flashy, contrasting with the simple white shirt and shorts he wore underneath. If the intent was to look dangerous, it missed the mark.


    But even with that ridiculous outfit, no one could deny it: this was the most dangerous man here.


    Bob¡¯s voice cut through the thick silence, calm and almost bored. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let yourself get provoked so easily, Shen. This poor guy¡¯s just trying to get you disqualified.¡±


    The beggar whipped around, his face contorted in anger, and shot back, ¡°Who¡¯s calling me poor?¡±


    Without missing a beat, Bob replied, ¡°I did.¡±


    The beggar fell silent, his face paling a bit as he glanced around, realizing the crowd¡¯s gaze was now solidly on him. After a tense pause, he muttered something under his breath and slunk away from the platform, melting into the mass of people.


    Selena raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. ¡°Well, that was something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed, still watching the beggar¡¯s retreating figure. Even with his strange appearance and easygoing attitude, Bob had everyone here in check.


    The bullet train pulled in smoothly, and just as the doors opened, Bob hopped onto the roof in one swift, effortless motion. He looked down at us all with his usual expressionless face, as if this was the most natural place to give an announcement.


    ¡°Good job for being here!¡± he started, raising his voice so it echoed across the platform. ¡°Please, call me Bob. But don¡¯t underestimate my handsome looks because I am, in fact, the chairman and so-called leader of the Hunter¡¯s Association. I¡¯ll be your chief proctor for the latter half of the exam.¡± He paused, scanning the crowd, his face unreadable. ¡°I¡¯ll also be taking the test alongside you all as a way to supervise, interfere, or support.¡±


    He sounded flat, almost robotic, as if even he couldn¡¯t believe he had to give this speech. Around me, I could see a mix of reactions¡ªsome people looked excited, some were whispering to each other, and a few looked as wary as I felt.


    The idea of the chairman joining us for the second half was both reassuring and¡­ unnerving. Bob might look unassuming, even silly, but after watching him effortlessly diffuse that scene with Shen and the beggar, it was clear he was leagues above any of us. I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if his joining us was just another part of the test.


    Selena nudged me with her elbow. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s not just the Spear God we have to keep an eye on.¡±


    I chuckled dryly. ¡°Yeah. Seems like ¡®interesting¡¯ just got a new definition.¡±


    The train doors finally opened, and we all filed in, still keeping an eye on Bob, who perched on top of the train roof as if it were the most comfortable place in the world.


    Having the chairman oversee the hunter¡¯s exams would become routine in the future, so his sudden appearance didn¡¯t catch me off guard. What actually surprised me was that Silhouette had handled the first half. I remembered he rarely got involved at all, so I wondered what had prompted the change.


    I turned to Selena, curious about her thoughts on the train. ¡°So, what do you make of this place?¡±


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    She shrugged, looking around casually. ¡°Pretty standard for a train. Doesn¡¯t seem like there¡¯s much hidden here¡ªat least not anything obvious.¡±


    Just then, a faint aura marker appeared over our heads, indicating where each of us was assigned to sit. I groaned internally; they were separating us again. ¡°We can always check in with the tarot cards,¡± I offered as we shuffled down the aisle.


    She offered a pretty much obvious alternative. ¡°Or we could just text. No need to burn through aura for small talk.¡±


    I nodded with a smile tugging at my lips. ¡°Smart call.¡±


    I settled into my seat by the window, sending a quick message to Selena. ¡®Already seated, and guess who¡¯s next to me¡­ Diamond Black¡­ What are the odds?¡¯


    I looked over at my unexpected seatmate. Diamond Black, infamous for his near-psychotic dedication to hunting Devils, sat there like he was just another passenger. He wore a sharp black suit, but unlike mine, his was marked with thin white pinstripes that gave him an even more imposing look. His eyes, cool and sharp, met mine as he spoke in a relaxed tone, ¡°Author, nice to meet you.¡±


    Keeping my expression neutral, I replied just as casually, ¡°Just call me Rey.¡±


    He gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied, and leaned back, arms crossed. I resisted the urge to let out a sigh. This was going to be an interesting ride, that much was certain. Diamond wasn¡¯t the type to chat casually or make idle talk; he tended to keep his words concise and precise. I couldn¡¯t tell yet if this was a problem or a blessing.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you in this exam,¡± he said, his eyes never leaving mine.


    I shrugged, matching his ease. ¡°Figured it was about time. Can¡¯t let you have all the fun.¡±


    Diamond¡¯s smirk lingered, his eyes still unreadable. ¡°Fun, huh? So are you a repeater?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± I replied, keeping it casual. ¡°Just started. You?¡±


    I knew he had to be a repeater; he wasn¡¯t in the first half of the exam, and I¡¯d remember someone like him.


    ¡°I skipped the first half,¡± he replied, his tone as flat as ever. ¡°The chairman owed me a favor.¡±


    Fuck you.


    ¡°So you want the gold pass then?¡± I asked the obvious.


    ¡°Yes.¡± And his answer was just as obvious.


    It made sense. A gold pass through the exam was invaluable to hunters like him, especially if it granted him easier access to the Forbidden Region. Diamond Black lived to hunt Devils, and with him, that meant he''d go where the Association would barely dare to send even their seasoned members.


    This was actually a lucky break. With Diamond Black focused on his own agenda, the chances of running into a devil during the exam decreased dramatically. I wasn¡¯t nearly prepared for a devil encounter yet; even a single devil was as dangerous as an entire Elsewhere Cult. The thought alone made me shiver¡ªthose things were dreaded for a reason.


    Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and smirked when I saw 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.¡±


    Amused, I sent her a thumbs-up emoji. I could practically feel her fuming through the screen.


    Diamond noticed my smirk and gave me a questioning look. I just shrugged, pocketing my phone.


    The chairman¡¯s voice blared over the speaker, ¡°Hello!? Hello? The bullet train is about to take off¡ª¡±


    A moment later, a voice cut in, trying to correct him, ¡°Chairman, we don¡¯t ¡®take off¡¯¡­ this is a train.¡±


    There was a pause, then Bob¡¯s voice came back with its usual flatness, ¡°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!¡±


    "Technically... using the word ¡®take off¡¯ when a train departs isn¡¯t entirely wrong," I remarked, half to myself.


    Diamond responded with a simple, "Ah, I see..."


    Such a bland reaction. If it had been Leora, we¡¯d be debating the technicalities of jet engines versus train mechanics right now. Smirking, I took out my sleep mask¡ªa cat-themed one, complete with little whiskers¡ªfrom the inside pocket of my suit. Diamond didn¡¯t even blink. Instead, he reached up, feeling around the front seat pocket, and casually pulled out a Playboy magazine. Oddly, rather than feeling grossed out, I found myself kind of intrigued by his nonchalance.


    I pulled the sleeping mask over my eyes, letting myself sink back in the seat, but I wasn¡¯t exactly resting. Instead, I focused on the Soul Marks I¡¯d managed to leave on a few hunters throughout the day. Since a simple touch was all I needed to mark someone, I¡¯d made sure to tag a fair few. Couldn¡¯t afford to be careless, especially when trouble might be brewing.


    Those marks were my fallback. If something went down, I¡¯d have aura reserves to draw on. My abilities had limitations, though. At first, I could only borrow two attributes at a time, but with constant practice, that cap had nudged up to three. The progress wasn¡¯t fast, but it was steady, which was the usual pace given my aura¡¯s relatively low density.


    There was this theory about aura that seemed to match my own experiences. The less dense your aura, the easier it was to awaken attributes. The reverse was true, too: a denser aura made it harder to awaken, and too many inexperienced hunters ended up with warped or misaligned attributes. Most hunters only ever managed to work with a single attribute, and a few had even compromised theirs through a lack of control.


    A question then: since I¡¯d unlocked the ¡°Connection¡± attribute, did that mean I could now handle four attributes simultaneously, given my current borrowing limit of three? Unfortunately, no¡ªit wasn¡¯t that simple. While my max was indeed three borrowed attributes, my aura worked in an odd way that forced me to disable ¡°Connection¡± if I wanted to use all three borrowed ones at once.


    The feeling of toggling off my ¡°Connection¡± attribute was strange, to say the least¡ªlike being able to detach a limb, use a substitute, and then reattach it seamlessly when needed. There was so much about aura, and my particular abilities, I still didn¡¯t fully understand.


    The oddest part came to me just this morning. It seemed I¡¯d gained something new with this evolution of my ¡°Connection.¡± For now, I¡¯d call it Skill Stealer. Borrowing a hunter¡¯s attribute was something I¡¯d done before, but this new layer allowed me to keep the attribute under specific conditions: use Soul Link on the target, equalize our aura, maintain the connection long enough, and then¡­ terminate the original owner.


    That¡¯s how I¡¯d ended up with ¡°Puppetry¡±¡ªthe same eerie attribute the assassin had used to control those mannequins after the fourth test.


    A prickling sensation tugged at my consciousness. It was Selena, using the tarot card I''d given her. "Hey, I think the fifth test will be... happening here..."


    Pulling off my sleep mask, I scanned the compartment warily before answering her mentally. "Why do you think that?"


    I could feel my fingers instinctively trace the Soul Marks I¡¯d left on a few nearby hunters, each one reassuringly in place. Nothing seemed off, but Selena was rarely wrong when it came to her intuition.

 31 Preparations

    My faith in Selena had always been grounded. I trusted Selena as ¡°Selena Fair¡± from Hunterworks¡ªmore than as just another hunter¡ªI paid close attention when she added, "We''ve been circling around for fifteen minutes straight. The windows have illusions over them, good enough they almost fooled me."


    I glanced around. ¡°Is it Silhouette¡¯s work?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied. ¡°Seems 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 alone to pick it up.¡±


    Curious, I tapped the window. Diamond raised a brow, glancing at me with mild interest. He had no idea the glass was enchanted, and the train had been looping for a quarter of an hour straight.


    The exams had a relatively  predictable structure: eight stages, each representing one of the Seven States of Aura, with an elimination round upfront. After culling the numbers from the starting stage, each following phases would be testing a specific aura type¡ªfirst Trickster, then Dealer, and Seeker. We just made it through the artificial labyrinth based on the Seeker-type. That left Fighter, Caster, Maker, and Reader.


    But the odds of a Fighter-style challenge on a crowded, moving train seemed low. If there were empty carts or a way to remove the seats, maybe, but everything here was bolted down. And for a Caster round? Equally improbable. There was nothing elemental here, no spacious terrain to amplify or draw from¡ªone narrow space would only set up a Caster bias, which was against the exam¡¯s principles. The chairman wouldn¡¯t favor one type like that.


    I tapped my fingers, thinking. ¡°Selena, this test is probably gonna be based on Maker or Reader aura.¡±


    Selena protested, ¡°I should come to you¡­ I am your bodyguard after all¡­¡±


    ¡°No need. I have Diamond here with me,¡± I replied. ¡°If it comes to a shove, I¡¯ll just use him. Better if you stay put¡ªthat way, we¡¯ll have more advantage when the exam finally starts.¡±


    I felt certain information would be a major factor in this stage. Maker-type and Reader-type hunters were among the most information-intensive aura types. While Seekers and Tricksters relied on wisdom and insight, Makers and Readers were different¡ªthey depended heavily on memory. And if that was the case, positioning was everything.


    "Hey, Diamond," I said, leaning in a bit. "Want some time-sensitive information that¡¯ll help you pass this exam? I¡¯m only selling for the next five minutes¡­ say no, and your chances might drop.¡±


    Diamond looked at me with a deadpan expression. ¡°Am I being scammed?¡±


    "Come on, have I ever lied to you?"


    "What¡¯s the price? If it¡¯s like your usual rates, forget it.¡±


    "No worries,¡± I replied, keeping it light. ¡°But first, let¡¯s call a truce. Don¡¯t want you getting any funny ideas about offing me to skip out on the favor you owe.¡±


    He crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯m fine with what you¡¯re selling. So, what¡¯s the intel, and how much?¡±


    "Intel on the next exam. My price? Passing together.¡±


    Diamond gave a small, approving nod. ¡°That¡¯s a roundabout way to ask me to team up. But I get it. Mutual benefits are always better than rolling the dice. And the truce? Sure, I accept. Now, what¡¯s the info?¡±


    "Glad you¡¯re smart,¡± I said, easing into it. ¡°The test¡¯s happening on this train. It¡¯ll likely be a Maker-type test, maybe Reader. The windows have been imbued with illusions, but it¡¯s technology-based, not aura¡ªprobably pure science. That lines up with a Maker-themed challenge. Also, there are 28 carts filled with passengers, except for the conductor¡¯s. Satisfied with the information?¡±


    I felt a prick on my Soul Link. Someone had detected it. First time that had ever happened, though not entirely surprising. I immediately severed the connection, mentally tracing my Soul Marks to confirm that none were compromised.


    Diamond noticed my pause. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    I shrugged, brushing it off. ¡°Nothing much. Just decided your name ¡®Diamond¡¯ is too much of a mouthful¡­ I¡¯ll just call you Black from now on.¡±


    In truth, it was just a convenient way to keep things casual. His three-syllable name took too much effort to say, and I wasn¡¯t up for it.


    ¡°Whatever suits you,¡± he replied, unfazed.


    Selena¡¯s voice echoed in my mind through the tarot connection, ¡°Status report: Geoffrey just fell asleep and is now leaning on my shoulder... Can I kill him?¡±


    Geoffrey? That must be the homeless guy.


    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t bother¡­ He¡¯ll be more useful as a friend. Besides, he¡¯d probably survive an assassination attempt from you, and that means he¡¯ll become a powerful opponent to watch out far early on in this exam.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Tsk,¡± Selena ticked her tongue in annoyance. Maybe it was my response¡ªor just Geoffrey¡¯s obnoxious snoring against her shoulder. In my novel, I¡¯d written Geoffrey as someone with impressive survivability. I had a feeling she¡¯d need that patience soon enough.


    I extended my Soul Link. I was careful to mask my aura and any sense of intent, then began browsing the attributes of the hunters I¡¯d marked. My ¡®connection¡¯ attribute made it easier to skim their aura types and get a feel for what I was working with. I had three slots. Currently, ¡®connection¡¯ and ¡®puppetry¡¯ were filling two, leaving one open. Hm¡­


    While I could borrow their attributes, replicating the same level of mastery or their version of mastery was impossible. My own skill level shaped how well I could wield it, creating something new in the process. I glanced over Selena¡¯s set of attributes¡ªdisguise, light, and illusion. Strong, but not quite what I wanted right now. I needed something versatile, maybe for offense or information gathering.


    I shifted my focus to Black across from me. Borrowing from his aura or attributes was out of the question. The thought of his aura infecting mine made my skin crawl. Skipping over him, I sorted through my options from those I¡¯d marked and finally settled on something straightforward: vision.


    "Already finished with your preparations?" Black asked.


    I steadied myself. Of course he¡¯d know¡ªhe was one of the most aura-sensitive hunters around. Despite not being a Seeker, he¡¯d picked up on my movements. Looked like I still needed more practice.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m ready,¡± I replied, keeping it casual.


    Black nodded and said, ¡°I¡¯ll be using one of my abilities. I¡¯d need your protection during that time... can¡¯t be too careless.¡±


    And here I thought I was the paranoid one. I watched as spiders began to crawl from his sleeves, while his breathing slowed, his focus narrowing. It was a familiar sight; I knew his abilities well enough to stay unalarmed. These spiders¡ªhis aura beasts¡ªwere his primary tools for recon and attack, though no one in their right mind would want one of those things near them.


    What exactly was Black?


    In the beginning of Hunterworks, I¡¯d written him as an enigmatic Occult Hunter with an aura of mystery. But as the story progressed, it was revealed he was something far rarer: a Devil hunter¡ªthe only Devil hunter known to have walked this world. And the reason for that was his unique ability.


    Diamond Black could enslave Devils. Naturally, it wasn¡¯t as simple as that; the requirements were stringent, nearly impossible to meet. Yet Black had succeeded, gaining control over Devils through his own twisted method. Judging by the timeline, he should have two Devils under his possession by now.


    A shiver ran through me despite myself.


    ¡°Done,¡± Black said, sliding off his shades and wiping them with a cloth.


    For the first time, I got a good look at his eyes: his sclera was pitch black, and his irises a ghostly white¡ªalmost like a congenital condition gone wrong. And at the center, instead of a typical round pupil, there was a diamond shape. It was unsettling, even for me.


    He glanced my way, noticing my stare, and smirked. ¡°Curious?¡±


    ¡°Just fascinated,¡± I replied, masking my discomfort.


    Those eyes weren¡¯t just for show; they were a reminder of his abilities and the Devils bound to him.


    Black¡¯s gaze narrowed as he considered my offer. ¡°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 liked that approach¡ªclean and professional. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    To show some good faith, I started by telling him a tiny bit about my abilities. ¡°I can create special links made of aura that are nearly undetectable. I use them for a lot of things: embedding marks on objects or  setting unique frequencies for communication. I haven¡¯t pushed the distance to its limits yet, but¡­ it¡¯s a lot more reliable than any smartphone.¡±


    To make my point, I pulled out my tarot deck, sorted through it, and offered him the Devil card.


    Telling him I could create communication frequencies on the fly was a slight misdirection. I didn¡¯t want him getting ideas that isolating me would render me helpless. In the world of hunters, allies could flip on you without warning.


    I held up the tarot deck, fanning the cards casually. ¡°These tarot cards,¡± I said, keeping my tone even, ¡°I¡¯ve been distributing them for some time now¡­ like a VIP pass. I prefer doing business with the strong, the smart, and the resourceful, and you check all three.¡±


    I extended the Devil card to him, meeting his gaze steadily. ¡°Take it.¡±


    Black took the card, twirling it between his fingers before it vanished. ¡°I like it,¡± he said. His voice was a low murmur of approval.


    The Devil card was crafted specifically with Black in mind. His aura, insidious and infectious, was nothing I wanted bleeding into mine. But the card I¡¯d handed him was built to withstand his energy, to resist and contain it. That way, he wouldn¡¯t just hijack my aura on a whim.


    Truth be told, each of my tarot cards was made with specific ¡°characters¡± in mind, tailored for certain personalities and strengths. The connection attribute had been unexpectedly versatile; it allowed me to tap into nearby items and draw faint traces of attributes, though these were usually low in potency. It was a gamble that paid off in this case, however.


    After all, the cards would be using their owners¡¯ aura.


    Black¡¯s card carried the essence of faith from churches, restraint from bloodied chains, and malice from sins courtesy of the murders I¡¯d just committed¡ª attributes I¡¯d carefully extracted from various elements. It wasn¡¯t an easy feat to pull off, especially since concepts could be elusive and unpredictable in aura work.


    Aura was indeed a mysterious thing.


    I tested my Vision attribute, experimenting with a new technique as we waited for the next stage of the exam to begin. The train ride felt endless, with no hint as to where we were headed or how much time had passed.


    With Vision, I tapped into the Soul Marks I¡¯d left behind, borrowing their perspectives to stretch my awareness across multiple points in the train. The ability wasn¡¯t without limits, but it gave me a rough idea of what was happening in different sections. A few hunters were restless, some already slouched in their seats, conserving energy. Nothing unusual.


    As I refocused, a stewardess approached, her cart stocked with an array of refreshments. She stopped at our side, smiling politely. ¡°Anything, gentlemen? Everything is free on this cart, so feel free to take one or two items.¡±


    I glanced over at Black, who didn¡¯t seem particularly interested, before nodding at her. Might as well keep up appearances.


    "I could use some water," I said.


    The woman handed me a bottle of sparkling water. As we brushed hands, I left a Soul Mark on her sleeve, and with a subtle shift, activated Soul Link.


    Soul Link required direct physical contact and for my target to be actively aware of me, which could make it challenging to use in situations like this. That was why I paired Soul Link with a Soul Mark¡ªa technique crafted specifically to work on inanimate objects or items rather than people. By marking her sleeve, I bypassed the usual physical contact limitation and her awareness requirements. This way, she¡¯d unknowingly act as a nexus for my power.

 32 Train Game

    The woman was a mundane, so there was no way she¡¯d catch on to my use of aura. Nothing seemed overtly suspicious, but something felt¡­ off. A little while ago, the train staff were making rounds, handing out free food and drinks. Now, they¡¯d vanished without a trace.


    From what I¡¯d gathered, most of the staff were ordinary people¡ªmundanes¡ªso they likely weren¡¯t involved in whatever the test was gearing up to be. Leaning slightly toward Black, I murmured, "It¡¯s almost time¡­ how¡¯s your surveillance going?"


    "I think I found a couple of suspicious items imbued with aura," said Black.


    It finally made sense to me.


    I recognized this exam setup. In my novel, it was one of the hardest tests for the protagonist¡ªa long and grueling arc where he had to track down and appraise aura-infused items. Most were cleverly disguised, either appearing harmless but hiding something malicious or the opposite. Detecting their aura was a challenge in itself.


    Not for me though¡­


    I glanced at Black. "If you let me use my ability on your spiders, I could probably appraise them from where we¡¯re sitting," I suggested.


    Without a word, Black summoned a spider from his sleeve, holding it out for me. I touched it, focusing on channeling my ability. First, I tried Soul Mark, and surprisingly, it worked. Either aura beasts weren¡¯t considered fully organic, or it was just one of those quirks of my ability. Encouraged, I continued marking more of his spiders as he spread them around our area.


    Black¡¯s spiders were tiny and nearly invisible.


    I noticed they seemed to possess some stealth abilities¡ªideal for surveillance. I activated Soul Vision, a technique I¡¯d improvised by combining my vision attribute with the principles of Soul Link.


    ¡°The pendant and the coin¡­ those are the nearest aura-infused objects within our radius,¡± I told Black. ¡°Take them. They¡¯ll probably be useful for the next exam. Just keep the items close, though; no need to draw attention.¡±


    Black gave a silent nod and discreetly moved his spiders, following my advice exactly.


    Through the tarot connection, I reached out to Selena, ¡°Selena, do you copy? There¡¯s an item imbued with aura hidden nearby. Check the compartment to your left, under the seat three rows in front of you, and one embedded by the window. I have a strong feeling these items will be important for the next exam.¡±


    Before she could respond, a loud, booming voice echoed through the train, ¡°Hello~ this is the chairman speaking, mic test, mic test¡­¡±


    Bob, the chairman, went on, his voice steady and playful over the speaker, ¡°We¡¯re going to play the Train Game¡­ rules are simple.¡±


    I leaned forward, listening carefully.


    ¡°Your objective: The train is filled with various mundane and aura-imbued objects. Hunters must use their Maker abilities to identify, catalog, and analyze the aura-infused items from the mundane ones,¡± he explained. ¡°Be forewarned¡­ some objects are ¡®cursed¡¯ or have misleading auras, which can disrupt perception and lead to mistakes if not carefully handled.¡±


    This was it.


    Bob''s voice droned on through the intercom, ¡°To pass this test, you¡¯ll need to imbue your aura onto the item of your choosing to match this frequency¡ª¡± and a resonant ¡°tnnnng~!¡± sound filled the cabin before it vanished.


    Bob continued, ¡°From here on, a certain skill level will be required. Killing is permitted, but be forewarned¡­ escalation has its consequences. Remember, the items scattered around the train are fixed in number¡­ not all of you can pass this exam! Hahaha! Good luck! Now, on the count of three¡ª¡±


    Around me, hunters stood from their seats, tense and wary, their eyes darting between one another, sizing up who might be a threat¡ªor an easy target. I stayed seated, watching and waiting. There would be enough chaos soon without my adding to it.


    Black tossed me the golden coin as he said, "I¡¯ll take the pendant."


    I examined the coin in my hand. One side bore the relief of a naked woman, while the other showed an eagle and the words ¡°Union Forever.¡± Closing it in my palm, I began channeling the frequency the chairman had just demonstrated. Black mirrored my actions, focusing on the pendant.


    ¡°Three!¡± the chairman¡¯s voice rang out.


    A flash of light burst before me, and in the blink of an eye, I found myself standing on the sand of a beach resort. Black appeared beside me, looking as surprised as I felt.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Well, that was easy," he said with a slight smirk. "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."


    While Black might have sounded dismissive, I knew there was no way he was weak. I looked around at our unexpected beachside setting. ¡°Any idea where we are?¡±


    He scanned the area with narrowed eyes. ¡°This is Kaliya Resorts, far south of the Union,¡± he replied. Just then, a mass of shadows began gathering before us, coalescing into a familiar figure.


    ¡°Impressive¡­¡± the shadowy form remarked. ¡°This is a record breaker. I believe the fifth stage of the exam is only beginning now, yet here you two are.¡±


    Black¡¯s posture tensed, but his voice was steady. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    I intervened before things got confrontational. ¡°It¡¯s one of the Seven Extremes¡ªSilhouette. He proctored the first part of the exam. What are you doing here?¡±


    Though Black kept his composure, he shifted into a subtle stance, ready for anything. Silhouette let out a low chuckle. ¡°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 said, ¡°Then you are irrelevant to me.¡±


    Whoa¡ªcoming in a little too hot there, my friend.


    Black turned to me, all business. ¡°If this is the southern part of the Union¡­ then we must be near the World Wall¡­¡±


    The World Wall. Giant walls protecting Union land from the Forbidden Region, said to be so high they could be seen from miles away. I squinted, focusing my Vision attribute, and finally caught a faint, blurry line in the distance¡­ like a gray wall.


    That was quite far.


    Black continued, ¡°How did we even arrive here so¡­ quickly? The capital was so far away. Even if we¡¯d taken a bullet train, I can¡¯t imagine reaching this place in less than a day. I don¡¯t know if I should be amazed by the Association¡¯s resources or appalled by how wasteful they are.¡±


    I shrugged, giving a nonchalant explanation. ¡°It¡¯s something like a Teleportation Array using science and aura in tandem¡­¡± I kept it vague¡ªcouldn¡¯t exactly go spilling state secrets. Besides, he wasn¡¯t the one paying for it.


    I glanced up, knowing there should be a satellite above us, responsible for shooting aura beams that facilitated teleportation access. It was called the World Path¡ªa marvel of science and aura.


    Silhouette commented, ¡°You have good intuition.¡±


    I looked at Silhouette, my tone flat. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Just small talk,¡± he replied smoothly.


    ¡°Then talk¡­¡±


    He paused, then asked, ¡°How is Selena doing?¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ah, she¡¯s your daughter, right? She¡¯s fine.¡±


    Silhouette¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift. ¡°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 shook my head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell her that yourself?¡±


    I felt his gaze despite how he looked. There was a hint of coldness in the way of spoke. ¡°Because I¡¯ve sworn to never acknowledge her existence until she bends the knee.¡±


    I frowned, feeling sweat gather on my brow. Only now did I notice¡ªI didn¡¯t have my shadow.


    Silhouette¡¯s voice cut through the tension. ¡°Pick your words wisely, boy, because 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 vanished, leaving the air thick with tension. Only then did I notice the people around us¡ªthe resort staff, gathered as if to welcome us.


    Black was watching me, his expression puzzled. ¡°What are you doing? You¡¯ve been staring off for a while now. Is there something interesting about that particular female? Or was it the tree?¡± He slid off his shades and eyed one of the staff members in a swimsuit, busy helping her colleagues decorate the place.


    ¡°How long has it been since Silhouette disappeared?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Around a minute¡­¡± Black shrugged. ¡°If he attacked you, I couldn¡¯t tell. That¡¯s why I opted for a wait-and-see approach.¡±


    It seemed Silhouette had distorted my perception of time and used it to attack my psyche. I¡¯d always known the Seven Extremes were dangerous, but seeing Silhouette¡¯s abilities firsthand, I realized I¡¯d need to reassess them more carefully.


    One of the staff members offered to guide us around the resort, but I declined and instead asked if they had a hot spring. The other hunters would take a while to finish the fifth stage¡ªat least a week, by my estimate, for everyone to be accounted for. That test was more difficult than it looked.


    The fact that Selena hadn¡¯t managed to pass so quickly, even with her head start, proved just how challenging it was. The getting the ¡®right frequency¡¯ of aura was the most difficult part. Ensuring the item was secured while channeling that complex aura frequency would be a very challenging task.


    I submerged myself in the hot spring, feeling the warm water seep into my muscles. I closed my eyes, letting myself unwind. It was my first time in a hot spring, and the experience was strangely refreshing, almost novel.


    I dipped my head under the water, letting the warmth wash over me. When I rose up, I saw the chairman, bald and seated across from me as if he¡¯d been there the whole time. That was some freaky speed and stealth.


    I took a steadying breath, calming myself down. ¡°How may I help you, chairman?¡±


    ¡°I heard from Stefan that you want to join the Hunting Dogs?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I plan to rise in the Association¡¯s ranks in record time,¡± I said, keeping my tone steady.


    Bob raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°To contribute¡ª¡±


    He cut me off. ¡°Let¡¯s skip the BS and shoot straight. What do you really want from joining the Association?¡±


    I met his gaze, letting the words come out clear and firm. ¡°The destruction of a certain organization that put my wife¡¯s and son¡¯s lives in danger.¡±


    Bob nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good enough. The important thing is you don¡¯t have ill intentions for the Hunter¡¯s Association.¡± He leaned back, giving me a thoughtful look. ¡°Tell me, how is Leora doing? That girl¡¯s like a daughter to me.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Huh? Aren¡¯t you, like, three years older than her?¡±


    Bob grinned. ¡°Age doesn¡¯t matter when it comes to love!¡±


    I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re using that quote in an entirely wrong context¡ªand no, there¡¯s no love involved here. That¡¯s my wife we¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Bob grinned. ¡°Monogamy is overrated!¡±


    What the hell?


    Only now did I notice he was still wearing his red cape¡ªeven while soaking in the hot spring.


    I pointed to it. ¡°That cape¡­ can you teach me how to do it?¡±


    While my theoretical knowledge was top-notch, even the best, I knew I still fell short in technique. After all, theory and practice were two completely different beasts.


    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 it.


    ¡°It¡¯s aura.¡±

 33 Red Fury

    Bob tilted his head with a curious look in his eyes. ¡°How many special abilities are there? What do you think?¡± He was gauging my knowledge and understanding of aura.


    ¡°That¡¯s an impossible question.¡±


    He let out a thoughtful hum. ¡°Hoh~¡±


    I took a moment, then answered, ¡°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.¡±


    Bob¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Marvelous answer. Then you probably know this: Think Not, Think Now, and Think New¡ªthe Trinity Thoughts. Do you know, that they also correspond to the three states of matter: gas, solid, and liquid? So where am I going with this?¡±


    I sighed, piecing it together. ¡°You¡¯re saying you can¡¯t teach me your technique¡­ that we¡¯re carved from a different rock.¡±


    Bob gave a knowing nod. ¡°I could tell¡­ you¡¯re more of a Think Now person.¡±


    What a roundabout way of rejecting me. What an ass¡­


    I glanced at his cape, watching how fluidly it moved, almost like liquid. It was likely a manifestation of the Think New philosophy¡ªliquid, flowing, and flexible. It looked like a mundane item, like a real cape but it was in fact aura.


    ¡°Still,¡± I said, ¡°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.¡± I leaned forward slightly. ¡°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 catch his interest. And I was sure the chairman would bite, especially since he¡¯d seen me use it more than a few times during the exam.


    ¡°Fine,¡± said the chairman. ¡°This cape¡­ I call it Red Fury, and it is the evolution of my special ability.¡±


    We engaged in a deep discourse for the rest of the day. You might expect someone with a Fighter inclination to be a mere brute, but that wasn¡¯t the case with the chairman. It had been an enjoyable conversation, one that challenged my perspective. By the end of it, I walked away with new insights on how to develop my special ability.


    I had no intention of giving up on my recent ¡®puppetry¡¯ attribute, and now, with this added knowledge, I felt ready to craft something entirely new.


    By the third day, Selena finally finished her exam. I watched from the beach as she trudged up to the resort, practically moaning in frustration. ¡°Motherfucker! Fucking mother!¡±


    I waved her over. ¡°What took you so long?¡±


    Just then, Geoffrey the beggar and Shen the Spear God were teleported onto the beach beside us. Shen promptly kicked Geoffrey, sending him tumbling into the sea.


    Selena threw her hands up. ¡°Because I¡¯m babysitting these two, that¡¯s why!¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Must be tough¡­¡±


    Selena sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t get me started!¡± She brushed past me and headed toward the resort.


    That¡¯s when Shen approached with narrowed eyes. ¡°What is your relationship with Selena?¡±


    I frowned, irritation sparking. I wasn¡¯t exactly in the mood to throw down, and it would just be a waste of time. Not that I would lose. ¡°What does it matter to you?¡±


    Shen looked at me, a serious expression on his face. ¡°Because I¡¯ve fallen head over heels for her¡­¡±


    Okay?


    He continued, ¡°She isn¡¯t taken, right?¡±


    So straightforward. I sighed. ¡°Sure, she isn¡¯t taken¡­ but are you sure? She¡¯s about five years older than you.¡±


    Shen just shrugged. ¡°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 chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re funny.¡±


    With that, Shen walked away.


    I almost forgot¡ªShen didn¡¯t exactly have the best EQ when it came to romance. Wait¡­ wouldn¡¯t he end up becoming a womanizer in the future? Hmmm¡­


    Just then, a drenched beggar stumbled toward me.


    It was Geoffrey. ¡°Was your wife a good lay?¡±


    ¡°No one talks about my wife that way,¡± I said, my tone hardening.


    This guy¡­


    I knew he had a thing for conflict, but to think he¡¯d just walk up and try to provoke me like this.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Geoffrey stretched casually and continued, ¡°She must be a good lay. You know, the stereotypes about 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, trying to keep my calm.


    Why was I even letting him get under my skin?


    Geoffrey grinned. ¡°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 guy really needed to be put in his place. But violence was a last resort.


    I put on my most wicked smile and looked down at him. ¡°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 glared at me, his eyes bloodshot. ¡°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 forcing me to endure his disgusting comments about my wife.


    Geoffrey clenched his fists, aura starting 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 special ability to work, I had to be the one to attack first. This whole provocation had to be because of my bounty. I could only imagine the Elsewhere Cult putting a price on my head after the stunt I pulled against them.


    Shen had a bounty on his head, too, and that was why Geoffrey had been pushing his buttons¡­ the same way he was goading 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.¡±


    Geoffrey swatted my hand away, his frustration clear.


    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.


    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 indicated he targeted me with clear intent. It wasn¡¯t spontaneous.


    I raised an eyebrow, surprised at how quickly he¡¯d changed his tone. ¡°Oh, really?¡± I scoffed. ¡°After that stunt you just pulled?¡±


    His smirk faded, 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 those calculating eyes.


    I took a step closer. ¡°Now do us both a favor and get lost.¡±


    He backed off with a shrug, though I had to admit, the man had annoyingly sharp instincts. If he attacked me, I¡¯d have justification for what I had in mind to do with him. The aspect of ¡®aura sabotage¡¯ of my Soul Link could be very nasty if I willed so¡­ and I could make it hurt really bad.


    I spent my days hanging around with Selena or training in my room, experimenting with my Puppetry attribute. The chairman¡¯s Red Fury technique had been educational, and I was thinking of using Maker-aura to complement my Puppetry¡­ though my Maker affinity was terrible.


    My second-best affinity was Seeker, followed by Reader. But I didn¡¯t give up.


    Eventually, I managed to develop something new. Ephemeral chains made of aura slithered around my wrist. They weren¡¯t formed using the Maker state; instead, the chains came together through a series of Soul Links and Soul Marks. I¡¯d wanted to create something thinner, like strings, but this was better progress than I¡¯d seen in ages.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call this Soul Chains¡­¡± I muttered, examining the construct. ¡°As for its abilities¡­ I¡¯m still not sure.¡± Its main function seemed to be restraint, so I wouldn¡¯t exactly be swinging it around like a weapon.


    Still, this was the biggest step forward I¡¯d made in months.


    By the ninth day, the chairman finally announced that the fifth exam had ended. Three exams were left: Reader, Fighter, and Caster.


    It was eight in the morning, and we were gathered by the beach as the sun rose over the horizon.


    Bob clapped his hands with a big grin on his face. ¡°Congratulations on passing the fifth stage! Now, today¡¯s a no-exam day, so feel free to party!¡±


    Some of the hunters started cheering and fist-pumping the air.


    The chairman, topless but still with that ridiculous red cape wrapped around his neck, took a running start and dive-bombed into the ocean with a wide arc. The guy really knew how to make an entrance¡­ er¡­ in this case an exit.


    Around me, everyone was in a full-on party mood. Selena was off in the distance playing beach volleyball, her laughter carrying over with the wind. I leaned back under an umbrella, sipping coconut water through a straw, letting myself actually relax for a change.


    Black was right beside me, reclined and soaking up the sun. He had a pair of shades on and looked like he was fully committed to getting a tan.


    "Not exactly what I expected for a day off,¡± I murmured, glancing over at him.


    He smirked. "We take our victories where we can.¡±


    Shen was at it again, hovering around Selena like a lovesick puppy. The guy was head-over-heels, but from the look of it, Selena wasn¡¯t having any of it¡ªshe kept sidestepping his attempts at conversation, pretending to focus on her game.


    My gaze drifted, catching sight of Geoffrey, that homeless troublemaker, pestering one of the female staff members. I clenched my jaw, but before I could react, a brute¡ªthe same one who¡¯d tried to rob me during the elimination round¡ªstomped over and kicked Geoffrey away. The idiot actually did something useful for once, though it didn¡¯t last. As soon as Geoffrey sulked off, the brute turned his attention to harassing the same woman Geoffrey had been bothering just seconds before.


    Black, lounging beside me, chuckled. "Got any guesses about the next test?"


    I shook my head, still watching the scene in front of me. "No clue. But if the chairman says it¡¯s a no-exam day, I¡¯m inclined to believe him."


    I sighed, irritated. Just another day of dealing with idiots.


    I crafted a Soul Chain, sending it slithering just beneath the sand, inching its way toward the brute. It wrapped around him before he even knew what was happening, freezing him in place. The female staff member, realizing her chance, bolted, leaving the brute standing there clueless.


    The chain I made was purely for restraint; it didn¡¯t yet have the capability to act as a conduit for my Soul Mark or Soul Link. If it did, I would¡¯ve drained his aura, forcing him to endure a brutal aura backlash.


    Instead, I embedded the chain in his aura field, restricting his aura usage. For the rest of the day, he¡¯d be walking around feeling constipated¡­in an aura sense. My current Soul Chain was pretty easy to dispel¡ªit just required a good bombardment of aura. The catch was that it was nearly invisible, its aura signature faint enough to make finding it a challenge.


    I leaned back, satisfied, and sipped on my coconut. ¡°Lesson learned,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°Don¡¯t be a hero if you are planning to be the jerk anyway.¡± I tried to look for Geoffrey, but he seemed to have vanished already.

 34 Read the Stars

    The beachside had transformed under the night sky, the familiar sands and surf now bathed in a soft, eerie glow. Starlight shimmered on the dark ocean, casting rippling silver trails that seemed to reach out to the shore. A salty breeze brushed against my face, carrying a chill that made it feel less like a tropical paradise and more like the stage for something strange and foreboding.


    Everyone was gathered by the beachside again, but this time, the mood was anything but festive.


    All around me, hunters stood in full gear, their figures sharp and alert. Gone were the relaxed swimsuits and carefree laughter from earlier; now, it was all polished armor, reinforced fabric, and weapons glinting faintly under the moonlight. Shadows and dim lights from the distant resort added a faint glow, making the hunters seem like dark, vigilant silhouettes against the shoreline.


    Bob stood on a makeshift podium, his voice carrying across the crowd.


    ¡°It¡¯s time for the sixth stage. Let¡¯s call this test ¡®Read the Stars.¡¯ Now, what¡¯s it gonna be? Kaliya Beach Resort isn¡¯t exactly what it seems... This island wasn¡¯t funded by the Hunter¡¯s Association just so hunters can get discounted vacations.¡±


    I noticed a few curious heads tilt. I leaned in, intrigued myself.


    Bob grinned. ¡°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!¡±


    Murmurs swept through the crowd as we processed the implications.


    I stood near the edge of the crowd like a bystander. Selena was on my left in her most alert state, while Black flanked me on the right with arms crossed as he scanned the surroundings. Together, we waited, listening as the chairman¡¯s voice cut through the stillness, setting the tone for the night and whatever awaited us in the ¡°eternal night¡± ahead.


    Bob¡¯s voice echoed over the beach as if he was taunting us.


    ¡°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 forewarned. The night has ways to distort perception, not to mention wild beasts that the night ushers to hunt! Also, the resort will be closed down for the rest of the test. No harassing the staff, okay? Or I will kill you.¡±


    For a moment, a suffocating wave of killing intent washed over us. It was sharp and cold like a sudden blade pressed to the throat. Even the most hardened hunters shifted uneasily, no one willing to question if he meant it.


    Then, with a flash of light, he was gone, likely teleported away as abruptly as he¡¯d appeared.


    The others dashed forward, grouping up and sprinting toward the darkened treeline. I stayed put and considered our approach. Selena and Black looked at me, clearly waiting for some guidance.


    But this was the first I was hearing of this test, and any concrete strategy escaped me.


    ¡°If Leora were here,¡± Selena said with a pout, ¡°she¡¯d breeze through this.¡±


    Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t Leora.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hold back for now and strategize,¡± I said, scanning the forest edge. ¡°Rushing in without a plan won¡¯t help. The chairman didn¡¯t specify cryptids, but that doesn¡¯t mean the creatures out here are any less dangerous. We¡¯re at the sixth stage, so if all we¡¯re up against are animals, there¡¯s got to be more to it.¡±


    Selena raised an eyebrow, slightly skeptical. ¡°Hopefully, you¡¯re not overthinking it,¡± she said, crossing her arms.


    ¡°Better to overthink than be caught off-guard,¡± I replied, glancing around at the other hunters already fading into the trees. ¡°Besides, nothing about Bob¡¯s tests has been straightforward.¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± Black said, relaxing slightly. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? I¡¯m not too confident my spiders will be much help navigating. They¡¯re built for surveillance, not exploration, and they¡¯re way too small to cover much ground out here.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I gave him a reassuring nod. ¡°No worries. I¡¯ve got navigation covered.¡±


    During the party last night, while everyone else was celebrating, I¡¯d been quietly working, spreading Soul Marks and Soul Links throughout the area. I could use those Marks like anchor points, building a mental map of the forest. It was rough, but it was something to work with. I focused, bringing up the list of attributes I could borrow through my Soul Link, searching for one that might make this easier.


    I found an unexpected match. It was from Gerry¡ªthe same guy who¡¯d tried to kill me earlier in the exams. His attribute, "Homing," was designed to guide projectiles to their targets, but I could adapt it to lead us toward our destination. I borrowed it, feeling a faint sense of direction solidify as if an invisible arrow pointed me forward.


    ¡°Got it,¡± I smiled.


    The exams had been almost too easy for me so far, and that creeping sense of unease was starting to settle in. It felt like I was waiting for the real test, the one that would knock me back on my heels with no way to pull through.


    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 won in the last exam weren¡¯t just rewards; they were top-quality semi-finished Maker products, almost like a blank slate ready to be shaped into an artifact tailored to our individual aura. For most hunters, this kind of thing was a rare luxury.


    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 handed over his pendant with a curious expression. I took it, focusing as I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal chain. Carefully, I imbued it with the homing attribute I¡¯d borrowed. Slowly, the pendant began to tremble, then floated upward, pointing in a specific direction as though it were a compass.


    Selena let out a low whistle. ¡°Now that is convenient.¡±


    Black¡¯s curiosity turned to intrigue. ¡°How does it work?¡±


    I glanced at him, figuring honesty wouldn¡¯t hurt¡ªespecially since the homing attribute wasn¡¯t technically mine. ¡°I used a borrowed attribute¡ªhoming¡ªon the pendant to make it point away from this area. It can only do that because I have my Soul Marks and Soul Links scattered as anchor points. They give me a rough idea of direction.¡±


    Both of them nodded, impressed, though I could see them mentally filing away the idea. The pendant pointed steadily, leading us forward.


    We moved ahead in formation: me at the front, Selena right behind, and Black flanking my left. Every step felt deliberate, but we knew what we were doing. We had a clear line, purposefully ordered for stealth, strategy, and efficiency.


    Selena couldn¡¯t cloak us fully in invisibility while we were moving, 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. A solid countermeasure. Anyone tracking us or plotting an ambush would find themselves targeting the wrong person if they made a move.


    It was an odd sensation, seeing each other like this, but I knew the strategy would pay off if someone attempted anything. It was like we¡¯d weaponized deception itself, and it was just one more layer of advantage we had going into this test. Sadly, this deception wasn¡¯t foolproof or that useful, since hunters could sprung up an ambush on us regardless of the information they have on hand.


    The island was unlike anything I¡¯d seen before. As the chairman warned, the celestial phenomenon threw my perception off¡ªsubtle shifts and warps in the landscape, shadows flickering and stretching in unnatural ways, and a constant feeling of disorientation. The trees looked darker, the paths twisted and wound back in ways that defied logic, and even the stars above seemed to sway slightly, distorting what should have been a simple night sky.


    But, with the techniques I¡¯d prepared, I managed to keep us on course. The pendant imbued with the homing attribute guided us steadily, while my Soul Marks and Soul Links helped me keep track of our position, recalibrating my bearings each time the island played tricks on us.


    Every so often, cries and howls echoed from deeper in the forest, blending with the sounds of scuffling and occasional shouts from the hunters ahead of us. They were likely clashing with the beasts the night had unleashed. It was clear they were taking the brunt of whatever roamed this place.


    I was grateful for the choice to hold back. Letting the others rush ahead had worked in our favor, giving them the honor of clearing out¡ªor at least distracting¡ªthe creatures lurking in the darkness. It wasn¡¯t a coward¡¯s move; it was smart. With each step, we advanced cautiously, ready for anything but mindful of letting the island¡¯s dangers thin out before we faced them.


    I knew better than to let my guard down, but¡­ this was almost too easy. Just like the last tests. Was I actually overpowered? It was peculiar how smoothly I was adapting to this world, to everything about aura¡ªeven though I¡¯d only recently awakened mine. It should¡¯ve been a gradual, challenging process, but here I was, picking up advanced techniques and executing strategies with relative ease. If I was being honest, it scared me.


    I let out a quiet sigh. Dwelling on it wouldn¡¯t help, though. I had a reason for being here, and I couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted by my own doubts. This was all for my family, and I wouldn¡¯t stop until I had eliminated the threats looming over us.


    My train of thought cut off as Black held out his hand, signaling us to halt. He leaned forward slightly, squinting into the darkness. Even though scouting wasn¡¯t his primary skill, Black was the best scout we had, especially with his aura beasts supporting him. In a low whisper, he murmured, ¡°There¡¯s something up ahead. Be ready.¡±


    We went silent, instinctively tightening our formation as we waited for whatever lay ahead to make its move¡ªor for us to get a better look.

 35 Werecreatures

    The stars and moon lit up the night sky just enough to see what was in front of us. It leapt toward me, all the ferocity of a wolf but far more menacing. Standing on hind legs with a humanoid shape and a snarling wolf¡¯s face, it was unmistakably a werecreature¡ªa cryptid, though only partially one. More like a wolf-man than a true werewolf, lacking the subdued aura and cunning of a full cryptid. This thing was wild with pure berserk energy radiating from it.


    I leapt back, flicking my right hand as I unleashed a Soul Chain. In that moment, my disguise dissolved, exposing my true aura. The wolf-man faltered, hesitating mid-lunge. It was wrapped around by my Soul Chain, hindering its movements. Seizing the opportunity, Selena moved in front of me, a pair of uzis materializing in her hands. She unleashed a rapid, ruthless hail of bullets that tore the wolf-man into a gory heap in seconds.


    But the threat hadn¡¯t passed. Black raised his hand, his shadow writhing and distorting until it morphed into a shapeless shadow beast, bristling with dark energy. Suddenly, more wolf-men emerged from the trees, darting around us in wide circles, their eyes glowing red with rabid hunger.


    We instinctively shifted to stand back-to-back, each of us covering one side as the pack closed in. I reached down, picked up a rock, and crushed it in my hand, imbuing the fragments with the homing attribute. I hurled them at the wolf-men, each sandy piece locking onto a target.


    Calculating their positions, I counted at least a dozen of them. ¡°We¡¯re surrounded,¡± I muttered to my teammates, keeping my voice steady, ¡°about twelve of them, maybe more.¡±


    We were in for a fight.


    I pocketed the pendant I¡¯d been using as a guide and looked over at Selena and Black, laying out our options. ¡°We¡¯ve got two choices here: punch through and try to avoid a direct fight, or stand our ground and confront them.¡±


    Selena was quick to respond, irritation flickering in her eyes. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d rather deal with them now than have these beasts breathing down our necks the whole way.¡±


    Black crossed his arms, glancing at the circling wolf-men. ¡°If we¡¯re going to punch through, how fast do you think we¡¯d make it?¡±


    I weighed it for a second. ¡°We¡¯d be slower, but we¡¯d avoid most of the fighting. Less chance of running low on aura.¡±


    He shook his head with a slight frown pulling at his features. ¡°Too conservative, Reynard. Sometimes you just have to attack head-on to get the best result.¡±


    Something in his tone sparked a flicker of annoyance in me. His comment felt pointed, like a subtle scolding for suggesting a cautious approach. But I bit back the feeling and focused on the moment.


    ¡°Whatever suits you. Slaughter them, then. Feel free to do as you like,¡± I said, keeping my tone neutral.


    At my words, Black''s grin turned downright feral. ¡°With pleasure,¡± he replied, stepping forward out of our formation. His shadow beast circled around him, its shape solidifying into a distorted chimera with snarling heads and elongated limbs as if it were just waiting to tear into the wolf-men.


    I stayed back, positioning myself alongside Selena, who was at the ready, guarding my flank.


    The sounds of battle echoed through the forest¡ªhowls, growls, and the unmistakable sound of murder. I caught glimpses of the wolf-men, frenzied with bloodlust, launching aura-infused attacks that shook the trees. Black wasn''t holding back, his chimera-like shadow beast tearing through them, its form distorting with each vicious attack. There was something unsettling about the way he moved¡ªalmost like he was enjoying this more than he should. I suspected he was simply bored.


    Suddenly, six wolf-men lunged at us from different directions with a burst of aura filling the air. In an instant, I transformed my aura¡¯s corona into Soul Chains, letting them snake through the air like writhing tentacles. The chains brushed against each creature, embedding into their aura and coiling around them, locking them in place.


    Selena took the opportunity, quickly dismissing her uzis in favor of a heavy shotgun. She fired off a brutal blast at the restrained wolf-men, slugging them in the skull one by one. Bits of blood spattered onto my suit, and I clicked my tongue in annoyance.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Not my fault you''re slow on your toes, man,¡± Selena remarked with a careless shrug, smirking as she racked the shotgun. ¡°And another one bites the dust.¡±


    Bang!


    The last of the wolf-men fell with a disgraceful fall.


    Black strolled back over to us, looking far too casual for someone who¡¯d just been on a murderous rampage. He dusted off his hands with a satisfied grin on his face. ¡°I took care of eleven of them,¡± he announced as if he¡¯d merely gone for a stroll.


    I glanced back at the sixteen wolf-men we¡¯d just taken down. ¡°That makes seventeen in total, then,¡± I remarked, keeping my tone even. ¡°And just to clarify, I¡¯m not exactly a Seeker or a Reader.¡±


    Selena gave me a sly look. ¡°Funny, most people think you¡¯re a Reader.¡±


    Black raised an eyebrow. ¡°First time I¡¯m hearing that.¡±


    I turned to Black, trying to rein in my frustration and keep things focused. ¡°How good are your detection abilities, exactly?¡± I asked. This island¡¯s peculiar celestial phenomenon was wreaking havoc on my perception, and I knew I¡¯d need support in that area.


    Black shrugged slightly. ¡°Enough to sense an ambush ahead of time, but not much more. It¡¯s not something I can rely on for intel during a fight.¡±


    I nodded, taking that in. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    We fell back into formation, Selena stepping behind me and restoring our disguises¡ªmy appearance shifting to match Black, Black¡¯s form resembling Selena''s, and Selena taking on my own. This setup would only work on hunters though.


    Once we were settled, I took out the pendant and focused, imbuing it with the homing attribute again. It floated upward, guiding us forward through the shadows of the forest.


    The rest of our journey pressed on steadily as we bulldozed our way through the forest. Occasionally, a stray wolf-man or beast-man would lunge at us, but between my Soul Chains, Selena¡¯s quickfire rounds, and Black¡¯s shadow beasts, we dealt with them swiftly. We advanced with little real resistance, keeping our pace without too much hassle.


    I¡¯d spread Soul Links over a fair distance, and I noticed something odd from their feedback. The other hunters had taken a different route, detouring along the beach¡¯s edge. A smart enough plan if it avoided the forest beasts¡ªexcept it didn¡¯t look like it was working out for them. Through my links, I sensed them trapped in loops, almost as if their perception was distorted by the strange celestial phenomenon. We were fortunate not to have tried the same path; if we had a competent Seeker, we might¡¯ve risked it, but now I was grateful we¡¯d stayed within the forest.


    Days passed like this.


    By the fourth day, the monster attacks grew more frequent. The wild creatures seemed agitated, hunting with a restless hunger that filled the night air with howls and growls. Occasionally, we¡¯d catch a glimpse of other teams through the trees, though no one dared approach each other. Hunters were beginning to reach the other end of the island, their paths winding through the chaos, but it wasn¡¯t exactly a race against them. We still had until the ninth day to reach our destination.


    I kept a sharp eye on the signs of those caught in loops near the end of the forest path. Some of them didn¡¯t seem to realize they were going in circles, unknowingly doubling back or veering off. Every wrong turn they made reinforced our decision to move cautiously; if we lost our way this far along, it¡¯d be disastrous.


    My survival instincts were sharp after two years spent in the mountains. That time hadn¡¯t been lost on me. Even with the island¡¯s strange phenomena and constant monster attacks, I managed to keep my team well-fed. I knew which plants were safe to eat, pointing out edible leaves and berries along the way, and which ones to avoid. Water sources were harder to find in these conditions, but I taught Selena and Black how to recognize natural signs of streams¡ªlush patches in the underbrush, animal tracks that often led to water, and even certain trees that held moisture.


    This island was bigger than I thought, so we had to be careful.


    "Are you sure those aren''t poisonous?" Selena asked skeptically.


    "Positive," I replied, tossing her a leaf. "Give it a try. That¡¯s mountain spinach; it¡¯s high in iron. Pretty common in forests like these."


    She sniffed it, then gingerly took a bite. "Hmm, not bad. So, you really survived out here, huh? Mountains and all?"


    I nodded. "Two years up in the wild. You pick up a lot or you don¡¯t make it."


    Black chimed in, watching our surroundings while his shadow beast trailed ahead. "Pretty handy. Wish I¡¯d known some of that earlier; could¡¯ve saved me a few¡­ inconvenient meals."


    Selena chuckled. "Like what, bugs?"


    "Maybe," he said with a faint grin flashing as he waved it off. "But I¡¯m more than comfortable in a jungle, with or without greens."


    Selena was used to navigating urban jungles, so she wasn¡¯t exactly at home out here in the thick forest. She¡¯d mutter occasionally about missing city lights and clean, paved streets, and I¡¯d catch her watching me as I gathered supplies or checked our heading, clearly taking mental notes. Black, on the other hand, didn¡¯t need survival skills¡ªhis way of hunting was unique enough that he hardly seemed to notice the challenges of our surroundings. He relied on his shadow beasts and aura manipulation more than practical knowledge of the wild.


    By the sixth day, we¡¯d finally reached our destination.


    Rising from the ground before us was an elevated platform. It was a simple box structure that looked almost unassuming if not for the faint aura surrounding it¡ªthe teleportation box Chairman Bob had mentioned. We climbed onto the platform, taking a final look at the dense forest we¡¯d fought through, then positioned ourselves in the center.


    With a blinding flash of light, the world around us dissolved, transporting us to our next stage.

 36 Airship

    The teleportation left a faint ringing in my ears as we reappeared on an open-air deck. The wind hit us instantly, cool and sharp with the thinness of high altitudes. I scanned the surroundings¡ªsome kind of airship, with metal and wood seamlessly melded into its structure. A steady hum reverberated through the floor.


    Beside me, Black stumbled forward, hands over his mouth, his usually impassive face twisted into a ridiculous expression. He made a few sickly ¡°blegh¡± noises, which caused Selena to step back quickly, grimacing.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Black. Altitude sickness already?¡± Selena laughed, crossing her arms with a smirk.


    In response, Black shot her an annoyed look, then quickly bolted toward the nearest door, probably in search of a spot to quietly lose his lunch. Selena shook her head, amused. ¡°He could¡¯ve just vomited over the rails,¡± she commented dryly.


    I shrugged. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s shy¡ªwants to keep it private,¡± I said, feigning seriousness. I could still see the look on his face and stifled a laugh.


    The other hunters around the deck barely glanced our way, their eyes fixed on the view or lost in their own thoughts. They were the strong ones, the survivors who had cleared stage after stage just like us.


    I had to admit, though, that the idea of being on an airship like this stirred something in me.


    It was¡­ kind of fun¡­


    Admittedly, I have to get used to the thinness of air fast.


    As we wandered around the deck, a staff member approached, though she was clearly not one of the mundane staff we¡¯d seen at the resort. This one wore a maid outfit, but it was¡­ rather unconventional. The skirt was short, and her blouse was open just enough that her platinum blonde hair and blue eyes weren¡¯t the only things catching my attention. Her chest seemed barely contained, spilling dangerously over the fabric. I was still trying to decide if this was some kind of act or an actual uniform.


    A sharp pinch hit my side, and I glanced over to find Selena narrowing her eyes at me, whispering, ¡°You already have a wife, remember? Try to look a little less enchanted.¡±


    I coughed, trying to focus, though I was still recovering from the jab. ¡°Point taken.¡±


    The maid¡ªno, the hunter¡ªstopped in front of us, holding out a key in each hand, her eyes flickering with a knowing glint. ¡°Welcome aboard,¡± she said, her voice smooth and level. ¡°I¡¯m Atropos. You and your teammate here are free to use the airship¡¯s facilities as you please.¡± She handed each of us a key.


    Atropos. The name stopped me short. Of course, I knew her. I¡¯d written her, created her as part of the Hunting Dogs¡ªa formidable hunter and a figure of legendary skill. Atropos¡ª a name inspired by one of the Three Fates of Moirai in Greek mythology¡ª the one who cut the threads of life. In my story, she¡¯d become the mentor to the protagonist, guiding him in ways few could. Now, here she was, standing before me in the flesh.


    ¡°Thank you¡­ Atropos,¡± I said, unable to hide my surprise. Her eyes met mine, glimmering with that mysterious smile, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.


    ¡°Wanna get shagged?¡± suddenly sprung up Atropos.


    I blinked, unsure if I¡¯d heard correctly.


    "Wanna get shagged?" she repeated with a tone completely devoid of emotion.


    I froze. What the hell did I just hear? My throat went dry as I glanced over at Selena, who was bright red with fury. Before I could even gather my thoughts, Selena erupted, her voice sharp and full of disbelief.


    ¡°What is your problem, lady? I know I¡¯m flirtatious as hell, but you¡ª¡± she waved a hand toward Atropos, ¡°¡ªyou take the cake!¡±


    I resisted face-palming on the spot. I didn¡¯t know where to look. This whole conversation had just taken a nosedive into awkwardness. I cleared my throat and tried to steady myself. "I¡¯m already married," I said, hoping that would end the matter.


    Atropos, with that same cold, emotionless expression, shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d be fine being the mistress.¡±


    What. The. Hell.


    I barely had time to react before Selena¡¯s elbow jabbed me in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for?" I grumbled, rubbing the sore spot, but she only glared at me with an intensity that made me second-guess everything I thought I knew about this situation.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got some nerve,¡± Selena hissed at me. ¡°You were staring at her chest too much! It¡¯s like you don¡¯t even know how to behave!¡±


    I blinked. "I¡ªwhat?!" I started, but Selena was already wagging her finger at me, about to scold me into oblivion.


    "Don¡¯t even think about it," she threatened with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Leora what you¡¯ve been looking at, and I¡¯ll be sure she hears all about it. You¡¯re dead if she finds out.¡±


    My blood ran cold. My mouth went dry. That was the last thing I needed¡ªLeora getting wind of this.


    Atropos, seemingly unaffected by the entire exchange, turned on her heel and said, ¡°Some other time then,¡± her voice was flat and emotionless. She walked away without a second glance, leaving me standing there, feeling a mix of relief and sheer embarrassment.


    I looked at Selena, her teasing grin still plastered across her face. "You better be kidding about telling Leora," I muttered under my breath, but she only laughed in response.


    This was going to be a long journey.


    Selena leaned over with a smirk, clearly still enjoying herself. "I mean, I¡¯d be fine with you checking me out, and I won¡¯t rat on you¡­¡±


    I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Oh, shut up," I shot back. "I¡¯m going to my room to take a shower."


    Selena raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Is that an invitation?¡±


    I sighed, tapping her shoulder, feeling the faint warmth of her aura as I borrowed her attribute, ¡®Disguise.¡¯ She blinked, and for a moment, I could see her cheeks turn a faint pink. With a thought, I shifted her aura, transforming her into a miniature version of herself. Now, she was about as tall as my knee, her arms crossed, looking ridiculous.


    I turned and walked away, feeling her glare sear into my back. Then came the scream.


    ¡°GODDAMNIT!¡± she yelled, her voice shrill and furious.


    I couldn¡¯t help the grin spreading across my face as her tiny, high-pitched shrieks echoed behind me. If she¡¯d had any doubts about my loyalty to Leora, I hoped they were gone now. Besides, this little trick might keep her out of my hair for a while. I walked off to my room, feeling thoroughly satisfied.


    Behind me, I heard the rapid patter of tiny footsteps¡ªSelena¡¯s little legs racing to catch up. I glanced back to see her miniature form, fists clenched, her face red with frustration as she tried to keep up.


    I quickened my pace, smirking as her tiny voice echoed through the hall. ¡°Turn me back! Turn me back!¡± she shouted, her tone that of fury and desperation.


    I made it to my designated room just in time. I slipped inside, quickly locking the door and dragging a chair to wedge under the doorknob for good measure. Outside, her muffled voice was still shouting as she stomped around in frustration. Safe at last, I let out a satisfied sigh and headed to the bathroom, still grinning.


    The hot shower was refreshing after days on the island. I took my time, letting the water ease the tension from my muscles, finally allowing myself a moment to breathe. After rinsing off, I wrapped a towel around myself, feeling more relaxed than I had in days. Just as I stepped out of the bathroom, my phone buzzed with a new message.


    It was from Leora. She¡¯d received the package I''d sent¡ªthe Lover tarot card I¡¯d chosen to represent us. Her reply had an image attached that made my breath hitch for a moment. She was standing in an oversized, loose-hanging shirt that draped over her curves, but she was definitely not wearing any shorts, leaving enough to my imagination to send a thrill up my spine. Smiling, I saved the picture, feeling a surge of fondness and longing.


    I dried off and checked the closet, pleasantly surprised to find a set of comfortable clothes¡ªjust a plain shirt and a pair of jeans, but after the intensity of the island exam, they felt like luxury. Once dressed, I sent a request through the room¡¯s control panel to get my suit cleaned. The material was aura-conductive, with chain-mesh lining for extra protection, so it couldn¡¯t be replaced easily; keeping it in top shape was essential.


    Settling into my room, I watched as a few automatons bustled in to pick up my suit for laundry. Though I hadn¡¯t brought much with me from the Capital City HQ¡ªpacking for the exams had been rushed, and the trials themselves had left little room to keep track of possessions¡ªI was glad to see the airship was well-equipped. Hopefully, my suit would be ready by the time the next trial came around.


    I strolled through the airship, marveling at the amenities offered. It was a far cry from the rugged forest we had just endured. The ship felt like a floating city, complete with a casino, caf¨¦, billiard room, and more. Passing the casino, I noticed Geoffrey intently playing a slot machine, his usual calm expression now laced with intense concentration. I chuckled, moving on to the billiard room, where Shen was engrossed in a betting game, carefully eyeing his opponents and calculating every move.


    Finally, I wandered into the caf¨¦ and spotted Black playing chess with a guy I quickly pegged as a Trickster-type. Despite Tricksters being known for their mental games and unpredictability, Black was dominating the board. I watched for a moment, genuinely impressed as Black set up a brutal checkmate, cornering the Trickster effortlessly. The Trickster huffed, frustrated but fascinated.


    I ordered an iced coffee and took a seat nearby, smirking as I teased Black. ¡°Not bad for someone who was practically trembling from the altitude earlier.¡±


    The Trickster looked up in surprise. ¡°You¡¯re afraid of heights?¡± he asked, a hint of a grin breaking through his disappointment at losing the game.


    Black clicked his tongue in annoyance, his expression betraying the barest flicker of irritation. "It¡¯s just a minor inconvenience,¡± he muttered before turning to me. ¡°Anyway, this is Dummy,¡± he said, gesturing toward the Trickster.


    I raised an eyebrow. "Dummy?"


    The Trickster, unfazed, shrugged with a grin. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s my real name. Blame my parents,¡± he said, clearly having fun with the reaction his name got. Despite his name, he didn¡¯t look anything like a dummy¡ªhis small frame and curly hair gave him a somewhat mischievous, impish look, and his leather jacket and ripped jeans only added to the quirky, rebellious vibe.


    I chuckled, sipping my coffee. ¡°Nice to meet you, Dummy,¡± I said. ¡°And impressive game, Black.¡±


    Black grunted, barely acknowledging the compliment as he reset the board, though I could see a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

 37 Chess

    Black looked at me with a challenge in his eyes. ¡°Dealer to dealer,¡± he said, nodding toward the chessboard with a slight smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s play.¡±


    I matched his grin. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡± Dummy, who was still licking his wounds from the last game, scooted out of his seat, and I slid into his place across from Black.


    "Got a coin?" Black asked, leaning back with a cocky ease.


    I pulled out a coin, holding it between my fingers. ¡°Man or bird?¡±


    ¡°Bird,¡± Black replied confidently.


    With a flick, I sent the coin spinning in the air and let it fall on the table. It was indeed a bird. Black gave a small, satisfied nod, setting his eyes on the black pieces. ¡°I¡¯ll be black,¡± he remarked, already positioning himself.


    I looked at the board, noticing that Black had arranged it precisely to his liking. I swapped the King and Queen¡¯s positions, nudging them just slightly. Black¡¯s frown was immediate as he raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You know the Queen and King should be facing each other, right?¡± he muttered, clearly annoyed.


    I shrugged, returning the pieces to their original places. ¡°Just testing your attention to detail.¡±


    Black gave me a look and then nodded for me to start. I moved my pawn from E7 to E5, and he responded instantly, moving with the certainty of someone who knew exactly how to dismantle my strategy.


    A few rounds in, Dummy, watching from the sidelines, snickered. ¡°Wow¡­ you suck.¡± He was talking to me.


    I rolled my eyes but didn¡¯t respond. Black, meanwhile, pressed forward with tactical precision, forcing me into uncomfortable positions at every turn. Before long, he had my King boxed in, and I was out of moves.


    "Checkmate." Black leaned back with an expression that was both smug and businesslike.


    I laughed, raising my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Alright, you got me.¡±


    Dummy scoffed as he looked at the final state of the board. ¡°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!¡±


    He just grinned. ¡°Hey, at least I put up a fight and used my special ability. You? You just let him dominate you.¡±


    I could feel my eyebrow twitch in irritation, but he had a point¡ªsort of. I glanced over at Black, noticing something odd about his approach. His moves were precise, with a five-second interval between each one. Like he was calculating every possible response in his head. Another effect of his aura ability, maybe?


    Not that it really mattered; I wasn¡¯t here to play to win. Still, Dummy wasn¡¯t about to let me off the hook.


    ¡°Man, sore loser much?¡± he added, folding his arms with an exaggerated pout.


    I rolled my eyes and gave a half-smile. ¡°Alright, alright. You got me.¡±


    A scruffy-looking man in a mix of pirate and marine attire approached our table. He looked over middle age, with a thick brown beard, piercing brown eyes, and a rugged, well-worn naval hat that added to his seafaring charm. He dragged over a chair of his own and sat down just near us, giving us a nod.


    "I''ve been watching you all play," he remarked with a gravelly voice. "Mind if I have a go?"


    I smirked and stood up, gesturing to my seat. "All yours."The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    As he settled in, he introduced himself. ¡°Name¡¯s Joe.¡±


    Black nodded, offering a half-smile. ¡°Black.¡±


    Joe''s gaze sharpened as he looked over the board, then a glint of mischief sparked in his eye. ¡°How ''bout we make it more interesting, then? A little wager?¡± It seemed he was quite confident in his skills.


    Black¡¯s interest was piqued. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±


    Joe reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver ring. It looked simple enough, but I recognized it right away¡ªa semi-finished Maker product, just like the ones we¡¯d earned back in the fifth stage. He didn¡¯t waste any time. ¡°This ring for whatever reward you got from the fifth stage,¡± he suggested, grinning.


    Black''s smile widened. "You¡¯re on.¡±


    They began setting up the pieces. I took a step back, intrigued to see how this match would play out.


    I took a sip of my coffee, watching them with a smirk as the bystander in this unfolding game of strategy. I took out my coin, raising an eyebrow at Joe. ¡°Man or bird?¡±


    Joe¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Bird.¡±


    I flipped the coin, letting it spin before catching it on the back of my hand. It was a bird.


    "Looks like you¡¯re playing white," I said, stepping back and savoring my coffee. ¡°or whatever you want.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll play white,¡± confirmed Joe.


    The game began, and as my cup emptied, their pieces clashed in a meticulous, calculated dance. Joe¡¯s face was calm but focused. His moves were deliberate as his Maker-type aura subtly pulsed. Black¡¯s face was an intense mask of concentration, his ¡®demons¡¯ surely fueling his gameplay.


    The game stretched on. It was an intense back-and-forth. Their abilities clashed in an invisible duel as they strategized and recalculated at a furious pace. But, in the end, Joe was the one to stand victorious.


    Joe leaned back with a satisfied grin. ¡°That was a fun one, Black. Haven¡¯t had a match like that in ages.¡±


    He looked at Dummy and me with an inviting nod. ¡°You two want a go?¡±


    Dummy shook his head, glancing between us. ¡°Nah, I know better after losing to Black.¡± He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.


    But I was different.


    Black stood from his seat, walked to the counter, and ordered some coffee for himself.


    I rolled my shoulders and took his seat, giving Joe a confident smile. "Alright then, let''s see what you''ve got." And yes, I was confident I could win.


    Joe placed both semi-finished Maker products on the table, his confidence practically radiating off him as he leaned back in his chair. ¡°Alright, kid. What do you have to offer?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but smile at his boldness. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re sure you want to wager those?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Because if we play, you¡¯d need to throw in your ship too.¡±


    Black and Dummy glanced at me, their expressions turning confused. Joe, however, just let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned. Not many people recognize me that easily. Clever catch, kid.¡±


    I turned to Black and Dummy, reintroducing our new friend with a bit of flourish. ¡°This here¡¯s Joe the Sky Ruler, owner of this fine airship and high-ranking member of the Hunter Association.¡±


    Joe nodded with a faint grin on his face. ¡°Much as I¡¯d love to gamble with it, I can¡¯t put the airship on the line¡ªit¡¯s worth a bit more than my left hand.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I replied. ¡°Then let¡¯s settle on something else. How about three favors, plus 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.¡±


    I saw his eyes spark with interest. Joe was a renowned Maker, known for crafting some of the most powerful gear out there. My terms were a bit extreme, maybe even ridiculous, but it only seemed to fuel his curiosity.


    ¡°Bold demands,¡± he replied with a glint of amusement in his gaze. ¡°So tell me, kid, what are you putting on the table?¡±


    I leaned back, my smile turning cryptic, letting him wonder just what I¡¯d risk for a chance to win against Joe the Sky Ruler.


    In this line of work, keeping an air of mystique had always served me well. I took a moment, then finally revealed my wager to Joe: ¡°Information on the legendary weapon¡ªExcalibur.¡±


    Joe¡¯s eyes went wide, his disbelief plain as he stared at me. ¡°Impossible,¡± he murmured as if trying to gauge whether I was bluffing. Black, too, looked at me intently, frowning but holding back any objections, while Dummy just blinked in total confusion.


    ¡°What¡¯s this all about?¡± Dummy finally asked, scratching his head.


    Without hesitation, Black leaned in, his voice serious. ¡°Excalibur. It¡¯s a powerful Maker artifact. Rumored to be created by an ancient Maker, the weapon that supposedly raised a king from the ruins of the Dark Ages.¡± Black shook his head. ¡°I always thought it was just a legend.¡±


    Joe crossed his arms, looking at me with newfound caution. ¡°If that¡¯s true, maybe I should withdraw from this little wager,¡± he said with a slow smirk creeping onto his face. ¡°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. ¡°All fair observations,¡± I replied calmly. ¡°Trust me, if I had the means, I¡¯d have claimed it for myself by now. Not that it¡¯d matter¡ªit¡¯s fabled to choose its own master.¡±


    Black nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. ¡°Excalibur¡¯s no ordinary weapon. Even the stories say it¡¯s¡­ selective.¡±


    For a moment, they were all quiet, each of them considering the legendary relic¡ªthe ultimate prize among Makers. I asked the obvious. ¡°So do you still want to play a game with me? What is it, Joe?¡±

 38 The Big Bet

    I leaned forward with a persuasive yet casual tone. "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?¡±


    Joe¡¯s gaze shifted, intrigued, and he murmured, ¡°That¡­ is indeed the case.¡± With a slight nod, he agreed, sealing our deal. ¡°Let¡¯s play.¡±


    Black vacated his seat, leaving it open for me, and as I sat down, I accidentally brushed the pieces, sending a few toppling. I smiled sheepishly, ¡°Oops, my bad.¡± I carefully propped each piece, subtly grazing every one with my fingers as I planted Soul Marks on each. Joe¡¯s brows drew together; he probably noticed my little maneuver, but he didn¡¯t comment. After all, I knew he¡¯d likely use every tool in his own arsenal.


    ¡°To keep things fair, how about we agree on a touch-move rule?¡± I proposed, adding one final condition.


    Joe¡¯s smirk returned. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    In the world of hunters, chess wasn¡¯t just a game of intellect¡ªit was an unspoken battleground where bending the rules was almost a rule itself. Cheating was an open secret, a tool wielded as skillfully as any move on the board. Here, manipulation, foresight, and subtlety were valued as highly as any calculated strategy.


    Joe¡¯s intense gaze and the occasional twitch in his fingers told me he wasn¡¯t here to play fair. And, frankly, neither was I. We were both well aware that the stakes here were more than just a simple game, and that we¡¯d each be pushing the limits of what could be considered ¡°sportsmanship.¡± This wasn¡¯t a match of honor; it was a test of who could outmaneuver the other, not only on the board but in every move outside it.


    I couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    This was as good a practice as any.


    With a confident toss, I handed the coin over to Dummy, calling, "Man."


    He flipped it, and sure enough, it landed on "man." I smiled and announced, "I¡¯ll take white." The game began with a simple, seemingly innocent opening move: E2 to E4.


    Only four moves later, Joe was in checkmate.


    Joe blinked in disbelief, slowly rising from his seat, visibly unsettled. ¡°What did you just do?¡± he demanded, staring at the board, unable to make sense of his loss.


    I let out a laugh, enjoying the disbelief on his face. ¡°Now, why would I go and give away my secret?¡± I said with a sly grin. Sensing an opportunity to up the stakes, I leaned forward and casually proposed, ¡°Tell you what¡ªlet¡¯s make it interesting. You know, give you a second chance, lots of second chances. If you manage to win just once, all the favors you owe me are void. But if you lose again, I¡¯ll add one more favor to that list.¡±


    Joe hesitated, brow furrowed, clearly torn. ¡°So... I get multiple tries?¡± he clarified, the fire of competition starting to light up in his eyes.


    I raised an eyebrow and, with a bit of a smirk, taunted him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Afraid? Never thought a once-fearsome pirate would back down from a rookie like me.¡±


    That did it. Joe gritted his teeth and sat back down. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, leaning in with determination.


    This time, I took black, allowing him the opening advantage. Joe wasn''t playing around now; his aura flickered subtly as he focused, and I could feel him methodically dispelling the Soul Marks I¡¯d left on the pieces. Before we started, he even pulled out a small vial, swallowing a pill before slipping two rings onto his fingers. Whatever boost they gave him, he was prepared to use everything in his arsenal.


    And so, the game began anew.


    Joe¡¯s 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, and he deliberated for only a second before nodding. ¡°Deal,¡± he said eagerly, and I handed him the ring. As I brushed my hand against him, I connected with his aura, subtly picking up on an attribute I hadn¡¯t expected¡ªsomething literally called Retardation, designed to subtly distort cognition and slow brain activity. Not bad at all.


    I worked the attribute into my own aura, sending out a faint wave toward Joe, who looked oblivious to the effect creeping over him. He made his next move but seemed slightly off, his focus faltering here and there.


    A few rounds later, Joe found himself in checkmate once more. He stared at the board in utter frustration, fists clenched. I leaned back with a smirk. ¡°That¡¯s four favors now, Joe,¡± I teased.


    His face flushed as he tried to compose himself, his pride clearly bruised.


    The game pressed on, but Joe had the spirit of a gambler who simply didn¡¯t know when to walk away. Each loss only seemed to fuel his determination, as if the next game would finally be the one where he¡¯d make his comeback. By his sixth loss, he¡¯d figured out how to block the Retardation attribute I was borrowing from Dummy, setting up a defense that neutralized its effects. But by then, he was already knee-deep in owed favors.


    Not one to give up an advantage, I pivoted to a new strategy. Combining my puppetry attribute with my connection attribute, I subtly nudged his pieces just enough to throw off his moves, shifting them in ways that were too minor to notice but fatal for his positioning. Joe was still busy focusing on countering the Retardation effect, so my new tactic slid under his radar. His confusion grew as each turn ended with his pieces falling exactly where he didn¡¯t want them.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Finally, after several more brutal losses, he seemed to snap to reality. Realizing he was only digging himself deeper, he groaned, cussed, and shoved back his chair. ¡°Damn it all,¡± he muttered, standing up in defeat. He shot a final glare at the board, then at me, before storming off, muttering more curses under his breath.


    I watched him go, amused, with eleven favors now safely in my pocket.


    I stretched and stifled a yawn. It was already late, and the ambient sounds of the airship were quieting as most of the passengers and staff retired for the night. Black, still seated at the chess table, gave me a long, scrutinizing look.


    ¡°I get how you won the later matches,¡± he admitted, ¡°but that first one? I don¡¯t see it.¡± He was still puzzling over the rapid, four-move victory that had thrown Joe into a frenzy.


    I simply smirked and shrugged. ¡°A mystery for another time,¡± I replied evasively, rising from my seat and leaving him to contemplate.


    As I walked down the empty corridor, a thrill ran through me, replaying the hidden mechanism behind that first victory. The truth? Aura sabotage. That first match was one-sided because, with a light touch, I¡¯d been able to alter Joe¡¯s aura just enough to steer him astray. Subtle enough to slip under even a veteran like him, it was a core aspect of my ability that I seldom revealed. By borrowing another¡¯s aura, then returning it, I retained a thin connection¡ªa barely detectable thread through which I could influence them subconsciously. Not total control, but small suggestions here and there. Enough to disrupt, to disorient, to make them miscalculate.


    The real beauty was its near invisibility. Affecting someone¡¯s aura from within their own subconscious was almost impossible to detect, like a mental fingerprint they didn¡¯t realize was there. I could make their aura slip out of sync or even go berserk if I chose¡­ though it was a hassle. But tonight, a little nudge here and there had been all I needed.


    Just as I was nearing my quarters, I collided with someone in the hallway. A familiar figure with scruffy hair and a goofy grin stood before me: Geoffrey, looking as far from his usual self as possible. He wore a loud, Hawaiian-style shirt with a mix of neon flowers splashed across it, paired with some slightly worn beach shorts he must have picked up at Kaliya Beach Resort. The sight alone was enough to make me hesitate.


    Geoffrey gave me a grin and leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°Heard you¡¯re a betting man, eh?¡± he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. ¡°How about a little game with yours truly?¡±


    I glanced past him, intent on avoiding whatever he was trying to rope me into. ¡°Not interested, Geoffrey. Move aside.¡±


    He shifted, blocking my path with a casual stretch. ¡°Aw, come on. Just hear me out!¡±


    I narrowed my eyes, suppressing the impatience bubbling up. ¡°Geoffrey, I¡¯m giving you one last chance to move,¡± I said, my tone laced with warning, ¡°or you will be moved.¡±


    He held up his hands in mock surrender, but that mischievous grin stayed. ¡°Easy, easy! Just listen for a second!¡± he pleaded, taking a step back with a chuckle. ¡°You won¡¯t regret it.¡±


    I felt an instant wave of irritation wash over me as I looked at Geoffrey, standing there in that obnoxious shirt, grinning like he had just solved some great mystery of the universe. I didn¡¯t trust him, and frankly, I didn¡¯t like him. He¡¯d always seemed the kind of guy who¡¯d play the clown to mask ulterior motives, and I had little patience for people like that¡­ well, with a few exceptions¡­ but it wasn¡¯t Geoffrey.


    Still, since he insisted on blocking my path, I figured I might as well listen. But if this turned out to be some ridiculous attempt at a joke, I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to make him regret it. It wasn¡¯t like the airship had any no-kill rules in place.


    Geoffrey winced, reading my expression a little too well. ¡°Ooof, so much killing intent... chill down, man,¡± he said, chuckling nervously, though his grin didn¡¯t waver.


    I narrowed 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, trying to keep my reaction in check. This wasn¡¯t just some ridiculous idea¡ªhe had to know something, something that hadn¡¯t been shared. That meant Geoffrey, annoying as he was, had information I didn¡¯t. And that was worth listening to.


    I crossed my arms, assessing Geoffrey¡¯s proposal with a critical eye. He leaned in slightly, his grin widening, sensing I was at least intrigued.


    ¡°What¡¯s the wager?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Information for information,¡± he replied smoothly, as if he¡¯d already anticipated my question.


    I felt my interest cool. ¡°Not interested.¡±


    Geoffrey chuckled, unbothered. ¡°Oh, but I think you will be.¡± He leaned in a little closer, eyes gleaming. ¡°It¡¯s about the Elsewhere Cult.¡±


    My expression hardened as I weighed my words. ¡°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 with a sly smile as if savoring this moment. ¡°Because, my friend, the information is worth a lot more if I hold on to it. Besides, I wouldn¡¯t mind selling it to you later¡­ after you lose.¡±


    His arrogance grated on me, but he¡¯d managed to bait my curiosity well enough. With stakes like these, he knew I wouldn¡¯t back down easily.


    I raised an eyebrow and asked, "So, why not just let me pay you double the information? I¡¯d owe you a favor, too.¡±


    Geoffrey shook his head, that infuriating grin never faltering. ¡°While the offer is¡­ tempting,¡± he replied, ¡°I¡¯m doing this for the thrill of it. It¡¯s just more fun to bet.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said, cutting to the point. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    His eyes gleamed with a sudden intensity. ¡°The location of Excalibur.¡±


    For a moment, I just stared, and then I burst into laughter. Geoffrey stood there, watching in silence as I laughed harder and harder until my sides ached.


    But the look on his face didn¡¯t change.


    It hit me then¡ªhe was dead serious. This bastard had the gall to demand something like that, as if he actually believed he¡¯d get it. I chuckled, forcing myself to calm down, but my disbelief was all over my face.


    ¡°You really think I¡¯d give up something like that?¡± I said, looking him up and down, sizing him up again. But the grin remained plastered on his face, irritatingly steady, like he¡¯d just confirmed some suspicion he¡¯d had all along.


    I gave Geoffrey a hard look, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he held firm. "Fine," I said, my voice laced 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 with a sly smirk pulling at his lips. ¡°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, and then added, ¡°Let¡¯s have it locked up. We¡¯ll put our guesses in a metal box, and it¡¯ll be handed to a third party, someone neither of us has any ties to. We¡¯ll open it after the exam, fair and square.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes, mulling over his suggestion. He had anticipated every loophole I might have tried to exploit. I liked it less with every second, but there was no turning back. Besides, if he had something that valuable to offer, he¡¯d have to put up or shut up.


    ¡°Deal,¡± I finally agreed.


    Geoffrey¡¯s hand shot forward, and we shook on it, the tension thick between us.

 39 The Race

    Atropos arrived as Geoffrey and I waited, her usual stoic demeanor in place as she assessed us with a neutral glance. ¡°I understand I¡¯m to play mediator?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow.


    I nodded, hoping her composure would keep this absurd game grounded. ¡°Yes, we need someone trustworthy for the exchange.¡±


    Atropos folded her arms, coolly eyeing Geoffrey. ¡°And my compensation?¡±


    Geoffrey let out a sigh, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the semi-finished Maker artifact he¡¯d won from the fifth stage. ¡°Here,¡± he said, handing the jade bracelet to her with a hint of reluctance. ¡°Take this.¡±


    I watched him hand it over, amused. "Seems you have a conscience after all," I remarked with a smirk.


    He scowled at me, and I just grinned wider.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get this done,¡± Atropos said, taking the artifact with a brief nod of satisfaction. I scrawled my guess on a slip of paper, folded it tightly, and handed it to her. She slipped it into a small metal box she seemed to have on hand, clicking the lid shut.


    ¡°Your turn,¡± she said, looking at Geoffrey.


    With a calm expression, he scribbled down his own answer and passed it to her. Atropos added his note to the box, shut it firmly, and locked it.


    ¡°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 shot me a quick, challenging grin. "Looking forward to it."


    I met his gaze without a flinch. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re as clever as you think.¡±


    Atropos simply nodded, pocketing the box with an unreadable expression.


    The days following our wager with Geoffrey passed in a steady rhythm, almost like a reprieve from the usual chaos. I finally made it back to my quarters that night, the quietness welcoming after the day¡¯s antics. Between training sessions, I explored the airship¡¯s amenities, meeting other hunters, and occasionally seeking out potential clients, trying to subtly expand my clientele. This world had its own network of power brokers and fixers, and it was always wise to plant seeds early.


    By the ninth day since it all started, the exam finally concluded. As tradition seemed to dictate, all hunters who passed were gathered in the grand ballroom for a celebration. The air was buzzing with the energy of relieved hunters, each one glad to have another grueling stage behind them.


    ¡°Hey, Reynard!¡± A familiar voice caught my attention, and I turned just in time for Selena to punch my shoulder with a mock scowl. ¡°I¡¯m still sore about that little transformation prank, you know.¡±


    I just laughed right in her face, amused at her lingering frustration. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like she¡¯d actually let her temper loose, but she reined it in with an exasperated sigh. Before I could say anything else, she noticed Shen walking into the ballroom, and, with a flash of panic in her eyes, she bolted.


    I chuckled to myself as I scanned the rest of the room. Black was slumped in a corner, looking unusually gloomy and a bit pale as he kept his gaze firmly on the floor, likely still struggling with his fear of heights, especially with the transparent ceiling overhead. Meanwhile, Dummy was at the buffet table, eating like a man possessed, practically inhaling every dish in sight.


    And then there was Geoffrey, absolutely annihilating the clams, with piles of shells forming a small mountain by his plate.


    Each of us had our quirks, I supposed.


    Chairman Bob finally made his entrance, looking slightly more dignified than his usual self. He still wore that ridiculous red cape and was as bald as ever, but at least he¡¯d made an attempt to look the part this time by donning a suit. Though no one here expected strict formalities¡ªmost hunters wore their rugged, battle-ready gear, while a few, like myself, opted for attire that could walk the line between formal and functional.


    Bob clinked his glass with a flick of his finger, sending a clear, ringing chime across the room that instantly captured everyone¡¯s attention. He raised his glass high, his voice booming over the crowd.


    ¡°Congratulations, hunters, on your victory!¡± he announced with a broad grin on his face. ¡°Now, onto the next test: it will be Caster-inspired!¡± His grin widened as he scanned the room as if savoring the suspense. ¡°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 even higher, eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. ¡°Now¡­we party!¡±


    The room erupted into applause and cheers. While a collective sigh of relief settled over the hunters, I knew that many of them were already thinking about the upcoming challenge¡ªa Caster-inspired race meant one thing: traps, spells, and more than a few surprises. This night might be the last time to relax before facing whatever twisted ¡°obstacles¡± the Hunters Association had in store.


    It looked like this party was about to get even more interesting.


    The chairman¡¯s early reveal of the next exam¡¯s theme was a rare move¡ªit practically invited us to strategize and prepare, a luxury we didn¡¯t usually have. The Caster-inspired race, with its magical obstacles and likely plenty of Caster ingenuity, would demand every bit of cunning and adaptability we could muster. Already, I noticed a few hunters slipping from the venue, clearly intent on getting a head start on their plans, some no doubt gathering intel or sharpening their skills for whatever the course would throw at us.


    As I scanned the room, my gaze landed on Geoffrey. He was watching me with that self-satisfied smirk, practically oozing with the assumption he¡¯d won our bet. I didn¡¯t bother giving him the satisfaction of a reaction, though¡ªI had no intention of letting him think he¡¯d outplayed me.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Instead, I resolved to enjoy the night. The ballroom pulsed with life, laughter, and the rare sense of camaraderie in the air. Moments like these¡ªbetween the pressure of exams and the constant gamble of hunter life¡ªwere few and far between. Tonight, I was here to enjoy it all.


    Still¡ª


    As much as I wanted to revel in the evening¡¯s celebration, the next exam kept my thoughts in check. A Caster-inspired race, filled with magical obstacles and traps, was bound to be chaotic and, no doubt, a hassle for someone with my skill set. I might not shine as brightly as I had in previous rounds, but I knew I had enough tricks up my sleeve to grind out a victory. However, one thing was clear: there was no room for complacency. Enjoying the win was one thing, but banking on it for the future was quite another.


    With that thought, I made my way over to Black. His fear of heights wasn¡¯t born of 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, and with his Shadow Devil came this irrational fear of heights. As I approached, I pulled out the pendant he¡¯d lost to Joe. Handing it to him, I asked, ¡°Take me along in the race tomorrow.¡±


    He looked up, meeting my gaze, and I saw him gathering his resolve, despite his unease. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± he replied with a flicker of determination in his eyes.


    With Black¡¯s support, I felt a renewed confidence. The upcoming challenge was no less daunting, but knowing I¡¯d have him by my side was reassuring.


    I mulled over Black¡¯s promise of cooperation. Sure, he¡¯d agreed to an alliance from the start, but it had always been based on mutual advantage. The moment I became dead weight, he could very well cut me loose without a second thought. Trust was a rare commodity here, and pragmatism was the rule of the day.


    As I pondered, Selena strolled over and offered. I blinked, caught off guard by her offer. "What''s your strategy?" I asked, curious. Black¡¯s mode of transport was already solid, so I needed to know what she had up her sleeve.


    She grinned and pulled out a keychain¡ªa compacted motorbike, one designed for speed above all. I appreciated her offer, but after a moment¡¯s thought, I declined. While her bike was fast, it leaned toward the fragile side. With me as an added burden, it¡¯d slow her down and put us both at greater risk. Black¡¯s transportation had the edge on safety, and in a race where the danger would be dialed up to eleven, that was no small factor.


    Selena, ever the attentive bodyguard, pressed on. "What''s the plan, then?"


    I told her to follow her instincts but prioritize her own safety. If this race turned out to be as brutal as I anticipated, my greatest challenge yet, I didn¡¯t want her to hold back on my account.


    As the evening festivities wound down, I mingled with the hunters, leaving faint traces of my Soul Link on each one. A friendly conversation here, a casual clap on the shoulder there¡ªit was subtle enough that no one would suspect a thing. When the night was over and everyone retired to their quarters, I began my real work.


    Silently, I slipped through the dim corridors of the airship, connecting with each strand of Soul Link I¡¯d set up. I equalized their aura levels, siphoning just enough from each of them to fuel my own. With Selena¡¯s disguise attribute cloaking my movements, the others were blissfully unaware of the depletion. Back in my room, I poured their aura into my coin, channeling it with precision, forging it into a proper artifact¡ªa tool for divination, powerful and finely attuned. As the final remnants of aura settled into it, I cut off each Soul Link, returning the drained essence so that no trace would remain.


    Just then, a faint commotion erupted in the hall. I smirked; they¡¯d realize the next morning just how much they¡¯d been sapped. They wouldn¡¯t be in peak form for the test¡ªa crucial edge for me. Aura debts were a son of a bitch.


    Settling down, I made a quick call to my wife, and we shared a few lighthearted words before saying goodnight. Content with the day''s work, I drifted off to sleep, already anticipating tomorrow¡¯s challenge.


    As dawn broke, I joined the hunters gathering on the deck, where a crisp tension hovered in the air, mixing with the thin chill at this altitude. We stood together, watching the sunrise as the airship climbed steadily higher, lifting us into the heart of the morning sky. The towering figure of Chairman Bob waiting near the crow''s nest had an amused glint in his eye. Nearby, for the first time, Joe took the wheel. The ship had mostly been on autopilot until now, so the sight of Joe in command was a rare one, drawing murmurs of curiosity from the others.


    We rose above the clouds. The light softened, reflecting in pale waves across the vast, pillowy expanse. The air was thin, but it was manageable for hunters. Then, to our left, a structure emerged¡ªthe Fighting Tower. Dark and foreboding, its silhouette was jagged and steep, reaching up like a cruel beacon among the clouds.


    Bob¡¯s voice rang out, clear and sharp: ¡°Hunters, behold the Fighting Tower! 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! And a word of caution¡­¡± He glanced at the eager faces, his smile widening. ¡°It¡¯s quite high up here. Hopefully, you all have the means for a safe descent!¡±


    A shiver ran through the crowd. Each hunter was tense, glancing between the edge of the ship and the distant tower, their minds whirring as they weighed options and strategies. ¡°On the count of three, the race shall start!¡± Bob called out, his voice blending into the wind as everyone edged closer, some adjusting gear, others casting quick glances at their rivals.


    Bob¡¯s slow, deliberate count was agonizing, stretching each second to pull us deeper into the suspense. Every "One...," "Two...," echoed in the thin, open air, pushing anticipation higher, and as the final "Three!" thundered from his lips, chaos erupted. Without missing a beat, I grabbed Black, yanking him forward. His face had turned pale, eyes glued to the sky''s vast, open stretch, the height leaving him stiff with dread¡ªbut I was ready for that. After all, he had me to drag him down into the race.


    Selena called out just as she soared past us, gripping a massive kite that billowed open, catching the wind with ease. She¡¯d prepared for this perfectly. ¡°Come on!¡± she shouted, maneuvering closer. With quick reflexes, I latched my Soul Chain to her kite, feeling its energy pulse as it wrapped securely. Selena glanced back, her eyes gleaming with determination as she skillfully balanced the massive kite to support both of us, guiding it smoothly through the open descent.


    Others weren¡¯t so lucky, though. A few hunters were malicious, targeting us as they tried to force us off balance mid-air. But I¡¯d planned ahead for just this scenario. As they neared, I snapped the Soul Marks I¡¯d carefully left on their clothes the night before at the party. In an instant, my Soul Chains shot out from each mark, snaking around any hunter who dared come within reach.


    My chains encircled them, freezing their movements mid-air. They struggled, panicked, but the Soul Chain had them locked in place, only loosening when I was far enough past that they had no hope of catching us again. My conscience remained clean; the rules were simple¡ªrace with your life on the line.


    So if they fell to their deaths, it wasn¡¯t my fault.


    As we hit the ground, Black wasted no time, transforming his shadow into a beastly, dark horse. Its form was eerie yet powerful, like a creature of myth born from darkness itself. I gripped his waist tightly as the horse surged forward, accelerating with surprising force. The landscape around us blurred, dust and grit kicked up in our wake as we pushed ahead, breaking into the lead.


    Just then, Selena zoomed past us on her motorbike, sleek and nimble, a blur of motion. ¡°I¡¯ll scout ahead!¡± she called, her voice whipping back in the rush of air. She tossed something back at me just before she vanished down the trail¡ªa small, familiar object. An earpiece. I popped it into my ear, immediately hearing her steady breaths through the comms.


    ¡°Look at you, going all out!¡± I teased her with a grin spreading as I leaned closer to the earpiece. She paused for a beat, then replied in her usual matter-of-fact tone, ¡°Well, someone has to make sure you don¡¯t fail this exam after coming this far.¡±


    Her straightforwardness had me laughing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s win this race.¡±

 40 Finish Line

    A deep, rumbling quake tore through the ground, jolting the terrain beneath us. Black¡¯s shadow-horse stumbled slightly but quickly recovered. Just then, Bob¡¯s voice boomed overhead, taunting us all, "Try your best, for only the first 50% to cross the finish line will pass this exam!" The announcement sent a palpable spark of panic through the air, fueling every hunter¡¯s desire to push harder and faster. There was no room for hesitation now.


    It was like¡­ their ass was literally lit on fire.


    A woman with her body practically glowing with aura blitzed past us, throwing a smirk over her shoulder as she called out, ¡°Later, slowpokes!¡± Black urged his mount faster, and just as we caught up, I noticed movement above. A guy riding some kind of floating surfboard swooped down, effortlessly overtaking us as he coasted ahead.


    I pressed my earpiece, speaking into it quickly. ¡°Selena, heads-up. Two hunters approaching you¡ªone¡¯s a Fighter with a speed aura, the other¡¯s a Maker, gliding on a surfboard.¡±


    Her response was swift. ¡°Copy that. Speed girl is already here¡­ and she¡¯s dumber than she looks.¡± A series of sharp explosions echoed in the distance, and I could only imagine Selena was already setting traps to keep her lead.


    Black kicked his horse into an even faster pace, and soon we were neck and neck with the speedster woman again. Just as she shot a glare in our direction, she stumbled forward, sucked down to her knees in quicksand. We shot past her as she struggled, and I allowed myself a small, triumphant grin.


    Who was the slowpoke now?


    Following Selena¡¯s directions was like navigating a minefield¡ªbut I trusted her. Her voice crackled through the earpiece. She was cool and steady. "Marsh up ahead. Looks like a harmless flower field, but don¡¯t be fooled; it¡¯s crawling with crocodiles. Avoid it."


    "Got it," I replied.


    ¡°Black, marsh ahead that looks like a flower field,¡± I informed Black tightening my grip on him as he steered the shadow horse sharply to the right, avoiding the marsh. A few hunters veered too close, and the swamp¡¯s trap activated, the once-pretty flowers snapping into grotesque, toothy grins. I didn¡¯t look back to see their fate.


    Selena continued, "Weird rain ahead. It¡¯s dense, like iron droplets. Nearly tore my bike apart."


    I informed Black again, who tensed, navigating us forward as I watched for any telltale shimmer or dark cloud. The sky darkened above us briefly, and a few heavy droplets clinked off the ground like metal. Black maneuvered us in a zig-zag, dodging the rain just as Selena had warned.


    Then her voice came back, "River of lava from the left. It¡¯s quick, but anticipate it."


    Her informing me, and then me relaying information to Black continued like this for hours. Why wouldn¡¯t I just give up the earpiece to Black to make it more efficient? I wasn¡¯t doing it just so I could get a participation trophy¡­ They trusted me to make the snappy decisions. More specifically, Selena trusted me to make the decisions and that was why she gave the earpiece to me.


    Most likely, she did it in lieu of her bodyguard duties, though the earpiece was unnecessary since we had the tarot card.


    We kept our eyes peeled, and sure enough, a molten river snaked out of the ground without warning, glowing red and deadly. Black leaped his shadow mount over the edge of it, landing us safely past the flow.


    ¡°Next up: gravity¡¯s gonna reverse. You¡¯ll feel a shift, so brace yourselves,¡± Selena warned.


    A few paces ahead, I felt my feet pulling off the ground, weightlessness tugging us upward. Black adapted quickly, gripping the reins tighter, and we rode through it with a calculated leap, our sense of orientation reeling for just a moment.


    Finally, Selena¡¯s tone grew sharper. ¡°Invisible walls ahead. Remember this pattern: hard right, sharp turn, then long left, and finally another right. The walls are static, so commit it to memory.¡±


    I repeated it back to Black, and he nodded, guiding us with Selena¡¯s directions. We maneuvered through the invisible maze, weaving right and left with each sharp turn. Each step through this nightmare obstacle course brought us closer to the goal, and Selena¡¯s guidance kept us on the path to victory.


    As we raced on, I sensed through the Soul Links I¡¯d been planting that most of the hunters were hanging back, keeping their distance and avoiding any chance encounters. Everyone knew that antagonizing another hunter was a surefire way to end up sidelined in this race, so they scattered across the field, choosing safe paths where they could. But, as expected, that didn¡¯t stop some from trying to sabotage us.


    A harsh burst of static cut into my earpiece, followed by Selena¡¯s voice, seething, ¡°Motherfucker, someone just sent a missile my way! Good thing I¡¯ve got a spare bike!¡±


    Before I could even process that, I caught a glimpse of something sharp and deadly whizzing toward us. A missile¡ªof all things¡ªwas homing in on our path, aimed with expert precision. Whoever launched it knew exactly what they were doing.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Black, faster! We¡¯ve got incoming!¡± I shouted.


    He gritted his teeth, urging the shadow steed beneath us to push harder. "This is the fastest I can go!" he ground out, his frustration evident.


    The missile closed in, tearing through the air behind us. I clenched my jaw and prepared for impact, mind racing through options, wondering if we had a shot at dodging it or whether it¡¯d be time to throw out some defensive trick up my sleeve.


    As the missile closed in, I noticed a faint, almost invisible shimmer of aura outlining its edges¡ªproof that it was a Maker¡¯s handiwork. I only had seconds, but that was all I needed.


    Channeling my aura, I extended it into Soul Chains, the corona of my twisting and snapping with a will of their own. Just as the missile got dangerously close, my chains shot out and coiled around it in a tight, controlled grip. I forced its propulsion to a dead stop, trapping it in mid-air. A second later, the missile dropped behind us like dead weight, fizzling out without so much as a spark.


    I exhaled, barely containing a grin. "That''s one problem solved," I muttered, feeling Black¡¯s tense breath ease just a little.


    He glanced back at me, wide-eyed and slightly shaken. ¡°Next time, maybe give me a warning before you pull a stunt like that,¡± he managed, his voice half-relieved, half-impressed.


    I smirked, keeping my gaze locked forward. "Wouldn''t want to spoil the thrill, would we?"


    Revenge was practically a hunter''s birthright, after all.


    I wasn¡¯t about to let that missile stunt slide. Petty? Maybe. But anyone who came for me had to expect payback.


    I mentally sifted through the network of Soul Links I¡¯d scattered across the hunters, feeling out the nuances of each one¡¯s aura and attributes. Attributes had a way of revealing their owners, with a certain directness that made it easier to track them down if you knew what to look for. It didn¡¯t take me long before I honed in on an attribute literally named "missile." Perfect.


    The only problem was he was too far to reach with a Soul Chain. But my Soul Link? That still connected us, even at this distance. With a small grin, I expanded the Link. Gathering the aura from fifty hunters, I balanced it all carefully¡ªequalizing it through my pores, bit by bit, before sending it back. Only this time, I added a twist: the ¡°aura debt¡± would fall on missile-guy.


    A quick mental flick, and it was done.


    I imagined his face when the backlash hit, weighed down by the sudden strain of fifty hunters'' aura debt on his system. Good luck managing that.


    Hah. Suck it.


    The race was chaotic, but with Selena¡¯s updates coming through the earpiece, we managed to stay ahead. Each time Selena called out a new obstacle, I relayed it immediately to Black, and together we adjusted. My job was to stay vigilant, anticipate any curveball, and coordinate every movement with precision.


    "Pitfall coming up, hard left!" I warned. Black veered sharply, his horse''s hooves skidding just inches from the gaping pit.


    Then came a downpour¡ªnot normal rain but lightning rain. The air crackled with static, bolts striking down at random. ¡°Stay low, and head for cover!¡± I instructed, guiding us to an overhanging rock, where we waited out the worst of it.


    Further along, we encountered trees that seemed alive, bending and reaching toward us like hungry animals. "Stay tight on my mark!¡± I barked, weaving our way through, narrowly dodging branches that swung like arms, trying to snare us.


    Each trap seemed more creative¡ªand more vicious¡ªthan the last, but we didn¡¯t lose our pace.


    As we tore through the winding course, we encountered no shortage of ambitious hunters, each using their unique powers and strange modes of transport to push for the lead. The speedster girl was back, tearing through the terrain like a bolt. She¡¯d gotten close enough that I could almost feel her aura sparking as she prepared to overtake us. But I wasn¡¯t about to let her steal the lead so easily. With a quick flick of my wrist, I let my Soul Chain fly, wrapping around her legs just long enough to trip her up, buying us the few precious seconds we needed to pull ahead.


    A few minutes later, we bypassed a peculiar lineup of competitors. A literal horse bounded along, sleek and muscular; its aura confirmed it was actually a hunter in full transformation mode. We left it in the dust, passing next a strange figure wobbling on an old-fashioned bicycle. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was bravado or sheer recklessness that had him riding that contraption, but it wouldn¡¯t be a match for Black¡¯s shadow beast.


    Just as we cleared the cyclist, an even stranger sight greeted us: a hunter bouncing along furiously on a pogo stick, springing ahead with unsettling determination. I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at his bizarre choice, though we left him behind as he struggled with each bounce.


    Further down, a flash of light appeared, and a teleporter jumped into view, materializing in front of us one moment, then reappearing a few paces ahead the next. But without precise control, he was all over the place, vanishing and reappearing with a chaotic, frantic energy.


    A loud snarl turned my attention to a risqu¨¦ woman astride a massive wolf, its powerful strides keeping pace with us. The hunter¡¯s eyes were fixed on me, a challenging gleam there, but her mount¡¯s ferocity didn¡¯t concern me¡ªit was her lack of stability. The wolf stumbled as we rounded a sharp turn, and I watched as she fought to regain control.


    The final stretch was becoming more chaotic, with hunters converging from every direction, their desperation driving them to unleash every ounce of speed and skill they had. I could feel the pressure ramping up as we hurtled toward the finish line. More hunters flooded in from the edges, joining in one last, frenzied push, but Black¡¯s shadow beast plowed ahead, its hooves pounding the ground in rhythmic strides.


    Selena¡¯s voice crackled over the earpiece, ¡°I¡¯m already at the finish line. Hurry up!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re right behind,¡± I replied, my eyes locked onto the massive metal gates looming ahead.


    With one last burst, Black urged his shadow horse forward, and we barreled through the entrance, crossing the line just as the gates began to close behind us. Black dispelled his horse, its shadowy form dissipating into wisps of darkness, and we landed on the ground. I straightened up, adjusting my jacket and aiming for a graceful finish.


    Hunters were gathered around in various states of exhaustion, relief, and irritation. I felt a familiar tap on my back and turned to see Selena. She was smirking, giving me a look that was half-teasing, half-acknowledging. ¡°Not too shabby,¡± she said, clearly eyeing Black¡¯s drained state more than mine. Her remark had an edge of sarcasm; she knew how my abilities worked, leaning heavily on borrowed strength.


    I gave her a shrug, brushing it off. Borrowed power or not, it had gotten me here.

 41 Fighting Tower

    The Fighting Tower was unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen. Its name was a misnomer in the truest sense. It looked like a tower¡ªtall, imposing, and narrow in appearance¡ªbut the structure had no traditional levels. When you looked up, you saw a vast ceiling, so high it seemed more like a massive, distorted dome than any kind of floor structure. It was as though the very fabric of space was stretched, warped by whatever architecture or magic was responsible for its creation.


    This place was built to test hunters, yes, but it was also a marvel of design in its own right. The spatial compression it housed made the interior feel both expansive and claustrophobic at once, like stepping into a pocket dimension. There were hidden, maze-like features throughout¡ªtwists, turns, and secret routes that could either help or hinder depending on how well you navigated them. In essence, it wasn¡¯t just a physical exam ground, it was a mental and strategic one too.


    But the most important and hidden feature of the Fighting Tower was its ability to record data. No one openly talked about it, but anyone with even a slight understanding of the Tower knew its true purpose. It wasn¡¯t just about physical prowess. The Tower was designed to study aura techniques¡ªevery move, every shift in energy, every ounce of power exerted in combat or testing¡ªit all got recorded. Like a laboratory of sorts, but one without the need for a lab coat or any kind of overt examination. It analyzed hunters at their core, taking in everything from their power usage to their strategy, even down to how they thought.


    Not everyone knew that, though. The Chairman and a select few were aware of this hidden function. It wasn¡¯t something you were told outright, and it certainly wasn¡¯t something you agreed to before entering the Tower. Technically, they didn¡¯t need your consent to study you. It felt invasive, almost like a breach of trust, like they were taking notes on your every weakness and strength without your permission. It was a bit unfair, in a way, but there wasn¡¯t much that could be done about it. You could keep your techniques under wraps, but the Tower would still record them, document them, and dissect them.


    But despite the unease of it all, I wasn¡¯t overly worried. I wasn¡¯t the type to flaunt my techniques, but I also wasn¡¯t naive enough to believe anyone could simply copy what I did just by observing. Techniques could only be truly understood by experiencing them firsthand¡ªfacing them down, pushing through, and learning from them. Copying wasn¡¯t so simple.


    I looked up at the massive screen above the main hall. It displayed the rankings for the exam, and the number of participants was staggering¡ª128 hunters had entered this trial. I had to squint to see where I stood. From the last exam, I ranked 99th¡ªcutting it too close for comfort. Black¡¯s placement right above mine, at 98th. Selena had fared better, landing in 52nd.


    It was a relief to see we¡¯d all made it this far, but I couldn¡¯t ignore the fact that I was hovering near the bottom. There was no room for complacency. If I was going to continue moving forward in this competition, I needed to step it up.


    The giant screen flickered for a moment before the image of Chairman Bob filled the entire display. His bald head gleamed under the overhead lights, and his dorky red cape fluttered ever so slightly despite there being no apparent breeze. His awkwardly placed lenses did nothing to mask his confusion as he looked into the camera, clearly trying to get the hang of the setup.


    ¡°Hello?¡± he said, voice unsure, tapping the lenses like they were some malfunctioning gadget. He squinted as if expecting the technology to cooperate with him.


    ¡°Hello? Is it working?¡± His voice echoed in the quiet hall, but there was no immediate response, and for a brief moment, it seemed like we might all be stuck in awkward silence.


    Then, another voice chimed in¡ªan exasperated but amused one. ¡°It is working already, chairman. Do your thing.¡±


    Bob straightened up, cleared his throat theatrically, and gave the camera a forced smile. ¡°Ah, yes! Right, thank you!¡± He paused as if trying to regain his composure, before continuing in his usual over-enthusiastic manner. ¡°Congratulations on passing the exam! Well done, hunters!¡± His hands waved in the air like he was trying to shake away the previous confusion. ¡°Anyways, you can rest for today. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll proceed to the next stage. If you need food or water, just fall in line in front of the vending machine.¡± He paused for effect. ¡°Okay, buh-bye!¡±


    With that, the chairman¡¯s face vanished from the screen, leaving behind a blank space.


    For a moment, there was a collective silence, and then the spotlight shifted, illuminating the vending machine in the corner of the room. It stood tall, about my height, with sleek, futuristic lines and holographic visuals dancing across its surface. I sighed, already knowing what was coming.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    A few of the hunters looked at it curiously, not sure what to make of the machine. To them, it probably seemed like a normal vending machine, but I knew better. It was far from ordinary.


    The machine was connected to the World Path¡ªa vast and intricate network that could teleport goods from all over the place, including food, beverages, and other necessities, straight from another location. It was an advanced technology the Association had recently developed, and they¡¯d set up a few of these machines in the Forbidden Region. These machines were meant to help hunters survive in the wild by allowing them to restock remotely, avoiding the need for traditional supplies. Still, it was highly classified tech, and only a handful of people knew how it worked.


    I glanced around, noticing the lack of recognition on most of the other hunters'' faces. None of them knew how it worked, except for me. Most likely, they¡¯d be cautious about using it, unsure of what it might offer or how it would function. They¡¯d learn soon enough. I could already tell that some of them were eyeing it suspiciously, wondering if it was some kind of trick.


    After all, the damn thing was thick with aura.


    Black approached the vending machine, looking somewhat intrigued but mostly cautious. As he did, I couldn¡¯t help myself and called out, ¡°Hey, grab me some carbonara while you¡¯re at it!¡±


    Just as I finished, Selena chimed in from across the room, a hint of playful demand in her voice. ¡°And I¡¯ll take a burger!¡±


    Black paused mid-step, turning slowly to look at us with his usual deadpan expression hidden behind his shades, but I could feel the wave of exasperation radiating from him. He didn¡¯t say anything, but his silence spoke volumes, as if he were mentally debating whether he should pretend not to hear us.


    I noticed that the other hunters had quickly caught on to the vending machines¡¯ potential, and now a long line was forming at each one. They stood in neat, parallel rows, a dozen of the machines lined up in an orderly formation. Some hunters glanced around nervously, waiting their turn, while others were already rummaging through the selection, looking impressed and, in some cases, bewildered.


    Geoffrey sauntered over, exuding an air of overconfidence, and of course, Atropos trailed right beside him. He had that familiar smirk plastered on his face, the one that screamed, ¡®I know something you don¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡°Ah, my friend!¡± Geoffrey said with as much fake charm as he could possibly muster. ¡°How are you faring? I trust you haven¡¯t forgotten about our little wager?¡±


    Selena glanced at me with raised eyebrows. ¡°What wager?¡±


    ¡°Geoffrey and I made a bet about what the test for this stage would be,¡± I explained, keeping my tone neutral. ¡°Information for information. The catch was, it¡¯d only be collected if he guessed right.¡±


    Selena shrugged, clearly unimpressed. ¡°So, did he win?¡±


    But her focus shifted, and she locked eyes with Atropos.


    I remarked, ¡°We¡¯ll know about that soon.¡±


    Selena crossed her arms and looked squarely at Atropos. "Shouldn''t you be in the staff wing? Not getting mixed up in all this?" she asked.


    Atropos, as impassive as ever, gave a slight nod. ¡°I merely wanted to hang out,¡± she said in her monotone voice. Then she added, ¡°I¡¯m here to judge the bet between Reynard and Geoffrey.¡± Her words cut through the murmurs of the nearby hunters, and Geoffrey immediately perked up.


    ¡°Yes, yes, let¡¯s get on with the show,¡± he said with a wave of his hand, clearly eager.


    Atropos held up the metal box with an air of authority, the sound of its clinks catching everyone¡¯s attention. She opened it, revealing two folded pieces of paper inside. Holding up the first slip, she announced, ¡°This paper is Geoffrey¡¯s. He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as the mode of competition.¡±


    Geoffrey flashed a wide grin, already reveling in his ¡°win¡± as he leaned a little too close, ¡°So¡­ I¡¯ll gladly take my prize.¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± I said, my voice laced with smugness. I grinned at him, waiting for the real kicker. ¡°The winner was the one with more accurate information, remember?¡±


    Geoffrey¡¯s smile wavered, but he held his poker face well enough as he crossed his arms, waiting.


    Atropos pulled out the second slip, holding it up for the audience. ¡°This paper is Reynard¡¯s,¡± she said, her voice resonating through the crowd. ¡°He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as a mode of competition¡ªwith the Fighting Tower as the finish line and the airship as the starting line.¡±


    There was a quiet ripple through the crowd as Geoffrey¡¯s expression flickered, a subtle clench of his jaw betraying him. He was holding onto his composure, but I could tell he was seething beneath that poker face. I didn¡¯t bother holding back my grin.


    Geoffrey let out a long sigh, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to me. The paper had the look of something prepared ahead of time¡ªits edges slightly worn from being handled, probably in anticipation of this moment.


    With a forced smile, Geoffrey 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.¡± He paused, his expression almost sincere. ¡°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?¡±


    He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way I didn¡¯t seem to know my own reputation. ¡°It¡¯s what they¡¯re calling you. Apparently, 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 in surprise. ¡°Eleven? That¡¯s a bit much, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    I kept my face impassive. Of course, it was true. But they didn¡¯t need to know that.

 42 Elsewhere Cult

    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.


    I speared a forkful of pasta, savoring the creamy bite as Selena, with her mouth half-full, raised a casual question. ¡°Any ideas what the next test is?¡±


    I gave a nod. ¡°It¡¯ll be tournament-style. That¡¯s the standard for the Fighting-themed exams.¡±


    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. ¡°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, but something told me she wasn''t joking.


    As I looked around, it became clear that most of the other hunters were watching me with cautious eyes. They¡¯d shifted slightly, avoiding getting too close or brushing past me. I hadn¡¯t spread any new Soul Links or Soul Marks since the end of the seventh exam, and whatever connections I¡¯d left before had long since faded or erased. But judging by their wariness, my abilities had made enough rounds in the rumor mill to leave an impression.


    The cautious distance wasn¡¯t lost on me. A few hunters¡¯ gazes lingered a beat too long, as if they were gauging my every move, bracing themselves to dodge anything I might throw their way. They knew a link or a mark from me could become a liability¡ªan unseen bond that could leave them exposed, vulnerable.


    I suspected that if it came down to it, they¡¯d avoid any kind of contact, physical or otherwise. With the knowledge circulating about what I could do, it wasn¡¯t surprising they¡¯d want to keep their distance. Fine by me¡ªkeeping them at arm¡¯s length was something I could use to my advantage.


    As I reviewed the information Geoffrey handed over, it felt surreal¡ªthe real name and public identity of the Elsewhere Cult''s Prophet.


    For a moment, I thought he was just baiting me, feeding me misinformation to keep me distracted. But there was a weight to his words and a meticulousness in the details that made it clear: this was real.


    If I could act on this, the impact would be game-changing. The Prophet¡¯s identity was far more valuable than their hidden locations or facilities; it was the key to unraveling the cult¡¯s influence from the inside. But with that realization came the frustration of knowing my limitations. I wasn''t yet powerful enough, nor did I have the influence or network in place to launch any serious action against the cult. If I made any move too soon, they¡¯d catch on, set a trap, and that would be the end of it¡ªand of me.


    No, if I wanted to take on the Prophet and their followers, I''d need patience, allies, and to grow my own power base. For now, I¡¯d keep this information close, preparing for the moment I¡¯d finally be able to use it.


    Selena tilted her head, her curiosity getting the better of her. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking¡­ what was that bet about? What information did you win?¡±


    I shook my head, smirking. ¡°Of course, I can¡¯t tell you that. Classified. But I can tell you what Geoffrey was after.¡±


    She leaned forward, intrigued. ¡°Alright, shoot. What did he want from you?¡±


    I held back a laugh. ¡°Information on Excalibur.¡±


    She raised her eyebrows and gave a short, disbelieving laugh. ¡°No shit. I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    Black chimed in with a more thoughtful tone. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s true or not, but he wagered the same thing against ¡®Joe¡¯ the airship captain.¡±


    ¡°No shit,¡± Selena cussed.


    I sat back, chewing on another forkful of carbonara, digesting both the food and the new information. The Prophet, one of the Elsewhere Cult''s three main leaders, was responsible for anticipating threats to the organization and scouting out new talent to bring into their fold. My mind wandered back to the cult¡¯s leader: Sebastian Moore. I didn¡¯t have a clue who he was, but I¡¯d find out soon enough. A little digging was all it would take once I had internet access.


    Selena interrupted my thoughts. ¡°Why the gloomy face?¡±


    I sighed, ¡°I need the damn internet¡­ that¡¯s why.¡±


    With a smirk, she unbuttoned her jeans¡ªjust enough to reveal a sliver of skin, and reached down to grab a miniature item tucked under the waistband. With a quick flick, she canceled the miniature ability on the item, and it expanded, forming a full-sized laptop right in her hands.


    Selena grinned, ¡°I¡¯ve got Wi-Fi with me¡­ all good.¡±


    I raised my eyebrows. ¡°Wow¡­ just wow.¡±


    She leaned forward, holding the laptop up with a mischievous gleam in her eye. ¡°Praise me more.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    I rolled my eyes, still impressed. ¡°You should have told me about this earlier! I could have video-called my wife!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± she smirked, flipping the screen open. ¡°Too bad.¡±


    ¡°Just kidding,¡± I added, watching her fight back a laugh. ¡°But seriously, thanks. Wife-y could use some¡­ video calls. That aside, your ability is really broken.¡±


    The technology in this world felt like a strange mix.


    On the surface, the place seemed to run on outdated phones, primitive internet setups, and barely modern cars and computers. But scratch the surface, and you''d find tech that felt centuries ahead: satellites capable of teleporting people and items across the globe with pinpoint accuracy.


    The logical explanation? The government had to be holding back¡ªrestricting advanced technology from everyday ¡°mundanes¡± while reserving it for hunters, military personnel, and the privileged elite.


    I opened the laptop, typed in ¡°Sebastian Moore,¡± and started to dig.


    The search results painted a picture of a man who held a significant grip over more than just the entertainment industry. In his late fifties, Moore was a physically imposing figure with graying hair, and his empire was nothing short of sprawling. Part of the entertainment world and a billionaire many times over, he was powerful, successful, and shrouded in an aura of unattainable privilege.


    In short, Moore was a perfect candidate for leading something as ominous as the Elsewhere Cult.


    After lunch, we each drifted off in different directions, heading to the rooms assigned based on our rankings from the seventh stage. Room 99 was mine, courtesy of just barely making it past that last test. Along the hallway, the walls were dotted with doors, each one glowing with a number. People lined up at them in an orderly manner. Each door was marked with some type of aura-sensing tech¡ªit picked up on each hunter¡¯s aura as they approached, confirming their rank and flashing their room number just above the door.


    When I reached mine, I felt a quick scan, and my room number lit up in a soft glow. Without hesitation, I entered, feeling that familiar post-adrenaline drowsiness starting to sink in. Inside, the room was as minimal as expected, but comfortable. I switched into some loose clothes, taking a moment to unwind. My bed looked surprisingly inviting, and I didn¡¯t hesitate. I stretched out on it, shutting my eyes against the day¡¯s chaos, letting that tug of sleep finally take over.


    I was jolted awake. There was a strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu hanging heavy in the air. Before I even had a chance to gather my bearings, I felt a playful, almost teasing whoosh of air in my ear. I turned, catching a flash of blonde hair and a sharp, pretty face staring down at me. But no¡ªthis wasn¡¯t Leora, my wife, nor was it Selena, my sharp-tongued bodyguard.


    ¡°Atropos,¡± I said, blinking and trying to wrap my head around the situation. ¡°What are you doing in my bed?¡±


    Atropos remained as stoic as ever, her usual unreadable expression fixed in place. She was dressed, as always, in her maid outfit that somehow managed to dangerously toe the line between elegant and¡­ a bit much. Her cleavage and prominent curves did nothing to make the situation any easier.


    Her response was as deadpan as it was unexpected. ¡°Of course, I am here to get laid.¡±


    I stared at her, baffled. What was up with these women and their weird definitions of ¡°visits¡± in my bed?


    My frustration hit an all-time high. My wife always swore I was handsome, but I¡¯d never quite believed it until right now, when every other woman seemed hell-bent on making me question my own restraint.


    I gave Atropos an exasperated look, sighing as I collected my thoughts. "Look, I know you can¡¯t exactly ¡®get laid¡¯¡­ I mean, 97% of your body isn¡¯t even human anymore.¡±


    ¡°Boring,¡± she replied flatly, standing up as though I was the one being ridiculous.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I pressed, hoping to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory.


    Her reply didn¡¯t help. ¡°I can change my parts, though¡­ Ever heard the saying ¡®if there is a hole, there is a goal?¡¯¡±


    Flirting in an emotionless tone shouldn¡¯t have been possible, and yet, here was Atropos proving me wrong. She followed it up with a subtle gesture, a lewd look in her eye that had me struggling to keep my expression neutral.


    ¡°We can start here¡­¡± she murmured, making a slow, stroking motion with her hand on her mouth. ¡°There¡¯s a hole, you see?¡±


    Holy. Hell.


    Heat shot through me, and I could almost feel blood pooling in all the wrong places. I had to breathe in, breathe out, just to keep my composure.


    Atropos paused, tilting her head. ¡°I am joking,¡± she said in that same flat voice.


    Of course she was joking! I knew that. But damn it¡ªwhy was I so flustered?


    My mind was still reeling from her earlier words and gestures, but I forced myself to focus. This was a serious conversation, not some strange, lewd game Atropos seemed to be playing.


    I exhaled sharply, pushing the unsettling thoughts away. Focus.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask again. What do you want?¡± I demanded, trying to sound confident.


    Atropos tilted her head, her usual emotionless expression never faltering. ¡°I heard you want to join the Hunting Dogs.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Are you my... proctor?¡± I couldn''t keep the suspicion out of my voice.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she confirmed, her voice flat, ¡°I requested the assignment.¡±


    I could feel the frustration bubbling up. What the hell was this about? ¡°Your point of coming here?¡±


    She stood up, her posture impeccable, and for a moment, I thought she might actually address something serious. ¡°Please withdraw your application. 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 eyes met mine with a rare glint of intensity. ¡°And the Elsewhere Cult? I will deal with them. They¡¯ve violated Hunter relations to a great degree, so the Association would deal with them.¡±


    Her words were as cold as always, but there was a clarity to them. The weight of her message settled in my chest, and I realized what she was saying. She wasn¡¯t just offering criticism. She was warning me, perhaps even trying to protect me, in her own strange way.


    But I wasn¡¯t about to let her dictate my path.


    I mean¡­ what was her problem? Was she making herself suspicious for a reason?


    A strange undercurrent ran through her words, almost like desperation. It was subtle, but there, beneath that detached, mechanical tone she always used. Why did she care so much about keeping me out of the Hunting Dogs? The organization was always in need of capable hunters¡ªyet here she was, actively discouraging me, almost pleading with me to walk away.


    And then, her comment about the Elsewhere Cult struck me as even stranger. Atropos didn¡¯t have the influence or political weight to take them on, not by herself. The Association might consider stepping in, but Atropos on her own? She¡¯d have no real support, and yet she was claiming she¡¯d "handle" them.


    What was she playing at? Her words sounded like they held more personal stakes than I¡¯d realized like she was trying to protect me from something far deeper than just a difficult exam or dangerous opponents. But Atropos, showing a personal interest in anyone¡¯s well-being¡ªespecially mine¡ªdidn¡¯t fit the woman I knew.


    What was Atropos after?

 43 Old Connection

    I leveled a steady gaze at her, ¡°This is personal to you.¡± My voice carried the certainty of a fact, not the doubt of a question.


    Her reply was curt. ¡°You are mistaken.¡±


    ¡°You were mistaken.¡± My words came out sharper than I intended, my implication clear: it wasn¡¯t me who had misjudged things¡ªit was her. She gave no reply, but I could feel her aura shift, filling the room with an oppressive weight.


    And then, almost like a slow, ominous symphony, constructs began to phase in through the walls. They were faceless, featureless golems clad in maid outfits, their limbs streamlined into deadly, gleaming spikes. They looked almost human, yet nothing about them was natural. These were constructs of a Maker, infused with Atropos¡¯s aura, programmed for her command and precision.


    The golems moved with a metallic elegance, a chilling reflection of Atropos herself.


    I sighed, feeling the realization settle in my chest. As much as I¡¯d tried to keep pace, to inch toward strength with each encounter, the gulf between us was glaringly clear. Atropos wasn¡¯t just strong¡ªshe was on a completely different level. For the entire duration of these exams, I¡¯d scraped by as a hanger-on. I¡¯d felt myself growing, yes, but right now, in the face of her raw power, I felt how far I still had to go.


    Confronting someone like her¡­ that would take time and strength for someone my level.


    Fortunately for me, I had a hidden advantage. Special Abilities¡ªknown more formally as Passions¡ªwere not simply powers; they were the embodiment of one''s innermost zeal, an expression of the very things a person had loved, nurtured, and honed. This knowledge, buried in history, was all but forgotten by most hunters. But I knew it. I was the Author, and with that title came a deeper understanding.


    Atropos¡¯s Passion lay in doll-making, a craft she had refined to such an extreme that she had transformed nearly all of her body into doll-like components, rendering herself almost a living, breathing automaton. Her constructs were not mere creations¡ªthey were extensions of her soul, each doll animated by her aura and her unique fervor.


    [Passion] was a lost knowledge to this world.


    They were fueled by desires, hopes, and dreams. IN a way, aura techniques existed because of them.


    My Passion, though? It was rooted in stories and happy endings. Even in my old life, I¡¯d been captivated by narratives, enthralled by the connections between characters and their journeys. That same devotion had shaped my own Special Ability. I had a knack for weaving threads, for pulling the strings and binding connections. And here, in the presence of Atropos¡¯s dolls, my own power was waiting.


    I reached out and touched the doll nearest me. Atropos had summoned them as a threat, but she hadn¡¯t acted upon it yet, and that gave me the opening I needed. My aura slipped easily into the construct, wrapping around it with my Soul Mark, taking hold. My ability¡¯s Puppetry attribute flared as I seized control, and in seconds, the doll was mine.


    As my aura¡¯s corona unfurled, delicate strands spread across the room, infecting each doll one by one. Recognizing the threat, Atropos withdrew her constructs, the metallic figures phasing out along with her aura. All but one, the one I¡¯d marked, and it stayed rooted at my side, under my command.


    ¡°Return her to me,¡± she demanded, her voice tight.


    ¡°My ability counters yours,¡± I replied flatly, my tone a mirror to her own emotionless delivery. ¡°And no, this doll is mine.¡±


    ¡°GIVE IT BACK!¡± Atropos¡¯s voice cracked, fury staining her usually flawless, controlled demeanor.


    I held her gaze, noting the break in her facade. This was real, raw anger¡ªthe first genuine emotion I¡¯d ever seen from her. I knew all too well from her character profile just how obsessively she clung to her dolls. Losing even one was an insult she couldn¡¯t tolerate. But returning her doll? That wasn¡¯t in the cards. This was my deterrent; if she wanted to come at me with hostility, I¡¯d respond in kind.


    I let a slow, mocking grin slip onto my face. ¡°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 stared at me, fury still simmering in her eyes. Her hands clenched, but she held herself back, a war waging beneath her surface. Slowly, she took a long, steadying breath, forcing her expression back to its usual blankness.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said at last, the cold edge back in her voice. ¡°You won.¡±


    Atropos turned her back to me, a metallic door materializing in front of her. It wasn¡¯t her own creation but rather a perk from the tower¡¯s infrastructure¡ªa quick escape hatch, courtesy of her administrative privileges. But she wasn¡¯t getting away that easily.


    With a flicker of intent, I commanded the doll to intercept her escape. Moving with uncanny agility, it leaped to the ceiling, crawling across like a spider before dropping down in a swift, soundless motion, blocking her path in an instant. Towering a head taller than Atropos, the doll cast an imposing figure, and it moved with the kind of ruthless precision I knew would make even her hesitate.


    She barely blinked. ¡°Do you really think something I crafted with my own hands could stop me?¡± She raised her right arm. With a smooth morph, her hand transformed into a blaster barrel with energy crackling at its core. It buzzed as it started building energy to fire.


    But I was one step ahead.


    Before she could squeeze off a shot, shimmering chains forged from aura erupted from the doll, wrapping around her like serpents. I¡¯d preloaded it with Soul Chain, a little trap I¡¯d laid in anticipation of exactly this move.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Atropos turned to me with a scowl on her face.


    I mentally tightened my grip on the chains, bringing the interrogation to bear as Atropos stood, her arms bound by the aura I¡¯d woven around her creation.


    "You¡¯re not going anywhere until you give me answers," I demanded. This wasn¡¯t just curiosity driving me; the sheer attention Atropos had put on stopping me was raising red flags. If anyone was going to pull strings around me, it would be on my terms. Her sudden opposition to my Hunting Dogs application was suspicious¡ªand dangerous.


    Why had she gone to such lengths to warn me off? Only a few people even knew about my intent to join: Stefan, my wife, Selena, the chairman, and maybe a few in-between. Atropos had no direct connection to those circles, yet here she was, somehow aware of my plans. Which one of them had let it slip? And why?


    The thought settled uneasily. Someone with clout wanted me uninvolved with the Hunting Dogs, and Atropos was the visible hand at work. Whether her motivation was personal or something darker, I needed to know if I was being blindsided.


    "Who¡¯s pulling the strings, Atropos?¡± I pressed, my voice calm but firm. "Why are you really here? And why do you care whether or not I join?"


    Atropos¡¯s eyes narrowed, her voice finally slipping from its usual flat monotone into something softer, though still restrained. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she admitted, ¡°it is personal.¡±


    With that, the pieces began to fall into place. If this really was personal, then Atropos had no one supporting her in this crusade but herself. Her single-minded determination had no directive from above, no orders from the chairman, and no hidden agenda from someone higher up in the Association. This wasn¡¯t about loyalty to an unseen command¡ªit was about her own will and reasons.


    I thought briefly of the chairman, whose easygoing nature clashed with the calculated atmosphere of these exams. If he¡¯d wanted to keep me out, he had the authority to shut me down with just a stamp on my application, never bothering with personal visits or obscure threats. No, it couldn¡¯t be him orchestrating Atropos¡¯s interference; he had no need to move pieces across the board in such a convoluted manner.


    So, the only logical conclusion? This truly was Atropos¡¯s personal vendetta, an obsession she¡¯d buried under that cool, emotionless exterior. She had her own reasons, her own fears or motives, but whatever they were, she¡¯d taken it upon herself to act.


    Paranoia started creeping in.


    Was she being manipulated? Coerced, even?


    "From whom did you learn of my application to the Hunting Dogs?" I asked, eyeing her carefully, waiting for a slip-up.


    Atropos¡¯s gaze remained steady. "I read it directly from the system," she replied. "It was one of my responsibilities."


    Hmmm¡­ So she was indeed among the few with direct access to that kind of information, which aligned with what she¡¯d claimed about her duties. But then again, if this was some grand ploy to keep me out, who else was pulling the strings?


    Or¡­ and the thought hit me suddenly, so absurd that I almost dismissed it¡­ was it possible that she¡¯d fallen in love for me? That her objections weren¡¯t about me being weak or unfit, but some twisted way of keeping me safe? It sounded ridiculous, but love at first sight wasn¡¯t unheard of, right? At least, I¡¯d read enough stories with plots as outlandish as this one.


    I glanced back at her, watching her controlled, impassive expression for any flicker, any hint of emotion that might betray something deeper. But she remained stoic, her face as unreadable as ever.


    Hmmm¡­ maybe it was a misunderstanding¡­


    A whirlwind of confusion and disbelief gripped me. I already had a wife¡ªI wasn¡¯t looking for anyone else. I didn¡¯t want this constant parade of unexpected infatuations. If Atropos started showing yandere tendencies, it would be disastrous. But rejecting her felt like treading into even murkier waters. I hadn¡¯t asked to be handsome, hadn¡¯t signed up for any of this extra drama.


    Taking a deep breath, I tried to let her down as gently as I could. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ It¡¯s not you. It¡¯s me¡­¡±


    She blinked, her usual stoic face giving way to confusion. ¡°What?¡±


    Right. Emotional matters might be a bit outside her usual field. ¡°It just wouldn¡¯t work between us,¡± I said, hoping this would make things clear. ¡°You are 97% doll and I am 100% flesh.¡±


    Her brows furrowed. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°I already have a wife.¡±


    Atropos¡¯s expression went from confusion to outright shock, her face paling as the Soul Chain shattered in response to her surge of aura.


    ¡°You asshole, I¡¯m your sister!¡± she hissed, and I froze.


    I¡­ have a sister? I couldn¡¯t remember ever having one. But as Atropos¡¯s fury continued to surge around me, the reality of the situation grew undeniably complicated.


    This whole thing was turning out more ridiculous by the second. Atropos¡¯s anger wasn¡¯t just a flash in the pan¡ªit was fueled by something she was claiming was genuine, and the absurdity of it was impossible to ignore.


    ¡°I might look different now, because of the augmentations¡­ but it¡¯s me, Reina! I am your big sister, you doofus! Don¡¯t you remember the time you said you¡¯d marry me when we grew up?¡± she shot back, with a huff of exasperation that felt far too familiar.


    ¡°Okay, this is too much,¡± I muttered, massaging my temples. ¡°You¡¯re gaslighting me. I don¡¯t remember any ¡®big sister¡¯ like you. And besides, why are you suddenly talking so emotionally, 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 split second, I could almost swear she was 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 shot back, folding my arms. ¡°Big sister, my ass! You¡¯re trying to gaslight me. If you¡¯re going to make a case, show me proof!¡±


    The look on her face was uncharacteristically vulnerable, and that caught me off guard. She seemed hurt, and not just by my accusation. It dawned on me then¡ªthose emotional inhibitors she mentioned¡­ I¡¯d written them in as a coping mechanism. A crutch to help her cope with some vague ¡°pain in her soul¡± I¡¯d written, a hint at a backstory I hadn¡¯t fleshed out. But if she really had turned off those inhibitors¡­ was she telling the truth?


    I was left with one burning question: why did she think I was her brother?


    The whole scene was going off the rails.


    ¡°Ugh¡­ I¡¯m really your sister,¡± Atropos insisted, her voice exasperated. ¡°I even have two moles right under my breast¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare undress!¡± I practically yelled, horrified. ¡°I have a wife, damn it!¡±


    ¡°Just a little peek would be enough to confirm I¡¯m your sister¡­¡± she continued, undeterred. ¡°You should remember! You used to make fun of my mole when we bathed together as kids! You¡¯d say it looked like a third and fourth mole! Here, here¡­ look¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah! AH! No, stop! Don¡¯t you dare undress! I don¡¯t remember that! I don¡¯t remember any of it!¡± I was practically waving my hands in a panic, feeling my sanity slip by the second.


    Atropos froze, a hint of genuine pain in her eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t¡­ remember me?¡±


    ¡°No! I don¡¯t remember ever having a sister named Atropos or Reina or¡­ anything!¡± I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts and keep myself from shouting. ¡°I grew up as a single child. Alone. My grandparents raised me, and I don¡¯t have a sister.¡±


    She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing, as though trying to process something that didn¡¯t fit. ¡°No way¡­ amnesia?¡± she murmured, like she was solving some kind of riddle.


    This whole thing was absurd beyond belief. I clenched my fists, trying to get my head around it. But then, a thought crept up in the back of my mind, a realization that started to piece things together in the worst possible way.


    What if I hadn¡¯t just popped into this world? What if there was already a different Reynard here? A version of me that had lived a life before I ever arrived, with connections and memories I didn¡¯t share? A life that had left a family, a sister¡ªeven Atropos, who was standing right here claiming I was the brother she remembered.


    Oh shit¡­ it was an old connection.

 44 Big Sister

    Atropos let out a long sigh, the tension lingering in the room as she collected herself. ¡°We¡¯ll talk again,¡± she said, her tone firm but carrying a hint of something unresolved. Without waiting for a response, she turned sharply, striding toward the exit.


    The stolen doll¡ªnow bound to her brother¡¯s will¡ªshifted aside, moving back to allow her passage. She cast a last glance over her shoulder, her gaze fixed on the brother who no longer remembered her. Her normally impassive expression softened, and for a brief, unguarded moment, sorrow flickered in her eyes. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced by her cold, unreadable mask as she stepped out, leaving the room heavy with unanswered questions.


    As Atropos walked to the elevator, she pressed the top floor button.


    She calmly reactivated her emotional inhibitors, causing a cool numbness to seep over her as her emotions faded into controlled neutrality. Yet, beneath that familiar veneer, her mind drifted back almost twenty years, to a time when she¡¯d last seen her brother. She had made the painful decision then, choosing to leave him in the care of their grandparents, believing she could keep him far from the life she had chosen¡ªa life steeped in shadows, danger, and obligation to the Hunter World.


    And now, he was here, entangled in the very world she had hoped to shield him from. A faint throb resonated in her core, the burned scars on her soul echoing with each heartbeat, old wounds that still pulsed with lingering pain. She remembered that fateful day, when a monstrous force had intervened in their lives, tearing apart the futures they had envisioned. How the government, with brutal pragmatism, had condemned her, binding her soul with twisted spells, shaping her into the perfect weapon they required.


    It was the law, they said. Her destiny, they said.


    They had stripped away her emotions, her memories of a life once filled with warmth and innocence, and rebuilt her into a creature who existed only to serve. But the memory of her brother, distant yet vivid, had always remained a stubborn fragment in her mind.


    And now he was back. It was a complication she hadn¡¯t foreseen¡ªone that stirred feelings she had long been trained to suppress, but never truly erased.


    Atropos stepped off the elevator and into the command center at the top of the tower.


    The room spread out in a vast, circular layout, illuminated by a cool, sterile white light that shone down from panels embedded in the ceiling. Walls lined with screens displayed a constant, pulsing stream of data¡ªmaps marked with blinking red and green dots, live feeds from Hunter missions across the region, and streams of surveillance footage from secure sites.


    Rows of sleek workstations stretched across the floor, each outfitted with multiple holographic displays. Each screen was dense with intel: lists of active Hunters, their stats, current mission statuses, and profiles of known threats. Operators sat at these stations, their heads bowed in concentration, fingers skimming across virtual keypads as they tracked activities and managed assignments.


    Atropos moved through the rows, past the staff immersed in their tasks, their faces occasionally flickering with the bluish glow of the screens. At the far side of the room was a series of glass-walled cubicles¡ªthe offices of each department¡¯s head. She cast a glance at the one labeled ¡°Director of Intelligence and Analysis,¡± where the faint, familiar glow of screens reflected against the glass.


    Her gaze traveled back to the main command area. Larger screens dominated the central wall, displaying a map of global and regional hotspots, lists of flagged supernatural entities, and known cult activities. A smaller side screen, showing a feed of recent mission footage, caught her attention briefly. It showcased a high-stakes battle that a team of Hunters was currently engaged in.


    Atropos¡¯s gaze softened as she approached the command center¡¯s heart, where the chairman sat in his customary throne-like chair, sprawled in an unflattering pose, fast asleep. The figure before her was, at first glance, nothing like what one would expect of the head of the Hunter''s Association. Bob, the chairman, was slouched back with a lazy air, one hand loosely clutching a crinkled packet of chips and the other a half-empty can of soda. His face was softened by the peacefulness of sleep, the faintest snore escaping from his slightly open mouth.


    Even so, Atropos couldn¡¯t help but feel a deep-seated respect for him. Bob, with his relaxed demeanor and ridiculous red cape made of aura draped over his shoulders, was anything but ordinary. In fact, he had saved her from a hellish existence she rarely allowed herself to remember. Back then, she¡¯d been nothing more than a weapon, her humanity buried under layers of conditioning and control. It was Bob who had pulled her from that darkness, giving her the chance to live, to feel, to be something more than a doll for others to wield. Because of him, she had found the freedom to exist as something close to a real person.


    A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she approached. With a careful hand, she adjusted the recline of his chair, tilting it back just enough to let him settle more comfortably. She removed the bag of chips from his slack grip, setting it down beside him, then took the soda can and placed it upright to prevent it from spilling. Lastly, she fetched a blanket from a nearby storage bin and draped it gently over his shoulders. A touch of tenderness filled her expression as she stepped back.


    To think they were close in age, yet here he was, the chairman of the Association, a man whose influence stretched farther than most would ever realize. He¡¯d achieved so much, transforming himself from someone who might have remained another cog in a vast machine into a leader, someone truly remarkable.


    Despite his relaxed, almost absurdly carefree appearance, Bob carried the weight of an organization that impacted countless lives. In a way, he was everything she had once dreamed of becoming.


    She looked down at him, the faintest hint of a smirk forming on her usually stoic face. ¡°Sleeping like a fool¡­ doesn¡¯t he know he might get assassinated anytime soon?¡± she murmured, the words almost affectionate in their familiarity.


    Atropos¡¯s colleagues were an odd but competent bunch, each a vital part of the Hunter¡¯s Association¡¯s top brass. She¡¯d barely settled at her workstation when Maurice¡¯s casual voice rang out, breaking the usual hum of quiet conversation and machinery in the command center.


    ¡°Well, he is pretty tough, so confidence of the strong, eh?¡± Maurice quipped, glancing up from his Gameboy with a grin. Maurice was the director of security and enforcement, and despite his casual appearance, he was one of the Association¡¯s most capable fighters.


    With dark skin and a wild afro, Maurice looked much younger than he was¡ªmany might even mistake him for a teenager. He wore a simple shirt and jeans, preferring comfort over any strict uniform, and had a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. He was a protector in every sense, directly responsible for the chairman¡¯s safety and the security of the organization, even if his relaxed demeanor didn¡¯t immediately convey it.


    Tori, however, had a different outlook. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that¡­¡± she muttered with a note of tension in her voice as she sipped her coffee. ¡°We¡¯re in a pretty tight spot recently. I swear, spies are the last thing I want getting in our pants. The government is working hard on putting us in check.¡±


    She was the director of intelligence and analysis and was everything Maurice wasn¡¯t when it came to appearance and attitude. Her dark hair was tied in a severe bun, and her sharp gaze was framed by equally sharp glasses. She wore a tailored suit that made her look as intimidating as she was professional, an air of precision surrounding her as she sifted through a pile of reports.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    At the small snack bar, a low wooden table before her was stacked high with documents, making her workspace feel more like a strategist¡¯s den than a break area.


    Opposite Tori, lounging without a care in the world, was Dr. Yamada. His messy brown hair and rugged stubble made him look somewhat endearing¡ªif one could ignore his current choice of reading material, an open risqu¨¦ magazine, which he was flipping through with no hint of shame.


    ¡°I want a girlfriend, damn it¡­¡± he muttered aloud, earning a few unimpressed looks.


    Dr. Yamada was the director of medical and psychological services, a brilliant, if occasionally eccentric, physician. His tendency to grumble about his perpetual bachelorhood was as much a part of his routine as his habit of ignoring social norms. Without warning, he absentmindedly reached a hand down to adjust his pants, crossing yet another line.


    "Oh man, I could use some shagging..."


    Dr. Yamada sensually reached for his crotch¡­


    A loud whack echoed as Tori slammed her foot against the table, startling Yamada so badly he nearly choked on his words. With deadly calm and veins practically bulging at her temples, Tori hissed, ¡°Dr. Yamada, I suggest you behave, or I will personally ensure your castration.¡±


    The resulting silence was profound.


    But it didn¡¯t last long, because just then, a loud, resounding thud came from the side, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. A pale figure had flopped onto the floor, his gangly limbs sprawled haphazardly as he groaned and shifted in half-asleep confusion. It was Klein, the director of personnel and recruitment, whose eternally drowsy state was as infamous as his flagrant disdain for government regulations.


    Klein was an albino with striking white hair and skin as pale as moonlight. His fashion choices were as controversial as his work habits¡ªtoday¡¯s attire included a bright yellow shirt with a defiant graphic: a cartoon hand flipping off the government¡¯s flag.


    ¡°Ugh¡­ what time is it?¡± he mumbled, blinking sleepily as he pushed himself up from the floor.


    Klein often snoozed through work, but given the late hour, no one could fault him too much for his half-awake state. His responsibilities lay in identifying new recruits and vetting personnel, a job he handled with a surprising amount of success despite his disheveled approach.


    Maurice strolled over to where Klein lay sprawled on the floor, his stance sharpening as he leaned back and kicked Klein square in the face with all the controlled ferocity of a tiger. Aura surged through his leg, adding force to the blow. Klein was sent rolling back, yet somehow, no blood was spilled.


    ¡°Go to your room if you¡¯re planning on clocking out, dumbass!¡± Maurice barked.


    Klein snapped up from the ground with wide, wild eyes, looking as though he had been jolted into another dimension. ¡°YOU CANNOT DISSUADE ME! ALIENS ARE REAL, AND I AM FROM ANOTHER WORLD, YOU SON OF A¡ªWait¡­¡± His gaze darted around, registering his surroundings for the first time. ¡°What am I doing here?¡±


    With a groggy stretch, he stumbled towards the elevator and stepped in, promptly vanishing from sight as the doors closed.


    Dr. Yamada snickered, tossing his 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, pinching the bridge of her nose and visibly shuddering.


    Maurice shook his head, his expression shifting from disgust to a stern reminder. ¡°Move on, will you? The chairman needs his sleep. Or do you want to be kicked in the face, too?¡±


    Dr. Yamada yawned and waved a careless hand as he ambled toward the elevator. ¡°Fine, fine.¡± With a single, tired glance back, he slipped into the elevator, leaving the command center.


    Now, it was only Atropos, Tori, and Maurice left in the quiet, softly humming room, surrounded by the dim light from the screens. Atropos looked over at the chairman, still dozing peacefully.


    With a thoughtful tilt of her head, she murmured, ¡°Want me to kick the chairman in the face too, then? Just to even the playing field?¡±


    Maurice paused with, a flicker of alarm in his eyes. ¡°Uh¡­ probably not a good idea. He is the boss, after all.¡±


    Atropos glanced at the chairman, sprawled on his seat with his head tilted at an awkward angle, his mouth slightly open as he snored away. She sighed, the idea of giving him a swift kick to the face momentarily tempting.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Maurice,¡± she muttered, folding her arms. ¡°We should just let him suffer a stiff neck so maybe, just maybe, he¡¯ll learn to go to bed on his own.¡±


    Maurice rubbed the back of his neck with a hint of mischief in his eyes. ¡°Or¡­ maybe I should kick him in the face after all?¡± He seemed tempted for a moment, despite his disposition as a security guard.


    Tori shook her head, gathering her files with an exhausted sigh. ¡°I¡¯m going now, you bunch of crackheads.¡± Without another word, she made her way to the elevator, leaving the two behind.


    Maurice yawned, though in a quick second he used an aura technique to refresh himself, shaking off the weariness. Atropos watched him go back to his own cubicle, his posture was relaxed and unhurried.


    Around her, the command center¡¯s walls were lined with screens displaying mission progress, reports, and security feeds. The cubicles were occupied¡ªnot by people, but by Atropos¡¯s dolls, each one in a designated spot, fingers gliding over keyboards, meticulously cataloging the success and failure rates of the day''s operations. Each doll operated with precision, keeping logs and alerts up-to-date under her direction. As the Director of Operatives, her workload was extensive, but her dolls allowed her to extend her reach and stay in control without pause.


    Maurice, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, tapping away at his own PC with a satisfied smirk. While technically a director, his responsibilities as head of Security and Enforcement boiled down to little more than bodyguard duty for the chairman.


    Free from intense managerial tasks, Maurice pulled up a round of MOBA on his screen.


    Atropos sat back in her chair, her eyes flicking between the various screens in front of her as she analyzed the flagged activities. Each notification, each anomaly, was carefully scrutinized, but one particular thread caught her attention. The ¡°Elsewhere Cult¡± was a name that had never crossed her radar until now. She had no idea who they were¡ªuntil she dug deeper into her brother¡¯s recent actions. Reynard had a talent for blending into the shadows, that much was clear now. And this discovery? It both intrigued and disturbed her.


    What the hell has he been up to?


    Atropos couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of admiration and irritation. Reynard had surprised her time and time again, especially after she saw what he was capable of with aura. She¡¯d always known him to be smart, but his hidden abilities were something else entirely. She was left questioning what other talents he had been hiding from her.


    Her thoughts wandered back to the incident with her stolen doll. The situation had left her conflicted. She didn¡¯t know whether to be furious that one of her creations had been taken so easily¡ªor impressed by the audacity and skill it took to pull it off.


    She activated a few camera feeds, zeroing in on a young man: Gerry Mansel. A kid from old nobility, one of the two assassins sent to kill her brother. Atropos¡¯s lip curled in disdain as she watched him carefully.


    Gerry¡­ You¡¯re still alive?


    She had planned to deal with him, to make an example of the arrogant child for even daring to cross her brother¡¯s path. She¡¯d considered all options¡ªkidnapping him, torturing him, and even ending his life outright. After all, the kid had tried to harm her brother. But despite all that, Gerry had persisted. He hadn¡¯t been eliminated, and now he was still playing this dangerous game.


    Atropos shook her head, deciding against the death sentence for the moment.


    He¡¯s not worth it yet.


    Instead, she plotted her next move with a sly smile. She¡¯d let him live for now, but not without purpose. She would let him face her brother directly, in tomorrow''s exam. She was confident that Reynard, with his unpredictable abilities, would deal with Gerry¡ªjust as he had with everything else so far. If he failed, well, then it would prove that the Hunter''s life was not the right path for him.


    And if he succeeded? That would only make her more curious about just how far he could go¡­ despite all her instincts.


    She manipulated the tournament brackets. There was no reason to make it easy on him¡ªif anything, it would be more interesting to see how he handled the pressure of facing the toughest opponents in the exam.


    Let¡¯s raise the stakes.


    The tower, known publicly as the Fighting Tower, was a miraculous piece of technology and aura combined. Atropos knew its true name, however¡ªWorld Tower. She had seen firsthand what its advanced systems could do. While the public saw it as a mere arena for battles, the tower had deeper functionalities, ones that even the most brilliant minds struggled to fully comprehend. And that made it perfect for her plan. With its fail-safes in place, the possibility of accidental deaths was minimal. But the pressure it could place on a person? That was something else entirely.


    She smirked at the thought of Reynard, already anticipating his performance. Whether he rose to the occasion or not, Atropos would be watching every step.


    And preferably, Reynard would realize the folly his actions and give up the hunter life.

 45 Fighting Tower

    The Fighting Tower, or as it was truly named, World Tower, was a marvel few people truly understood. This structure, reaching into the skies above and plunging deep into the earth below, was the product of a secret alliance among the three greatest factions of the world: the Hunter¡¯s Association, the Union Government, and the World Order. These powerful entities rarely collaborated, each usually steeped in its own ambitions and rivalries. But for this project, they had put aside their differences, pooling together the most advanced technology and aura manipulation the world had ever seen.


    The reason it was publicly known as the "Fighting Tower" was simple¡ªthe tower wasn¡¯t finished yet.


    It was a mega structure that was supposed to be a top-class secret. The full potential of the World Tower had yet to be realized, and so, for now, it served only as a high-stakes tournament battleground, hiding the true nature of its construction. Most who stepped into the arena had no idea of the engineering marvel they were within, nor the greater purpose it might one day serve.


    Despite its unfinished state, what set the World Tower apart from any other arena was its ability to treat death as a temporary, illusory experience. Through complex systems of aura-field generators and advanced biofeedback systems, the tower could simulate death without true harm, giving participants the illusion of mortal peril. Lethal injuries were instantly nullified, turned into "fake deaths," allowing competitors to fight with everything they had without fear of true consequences.


    This groundbreaking feature made the World Tower the ideal tournament ground, a place where the life-and-death struggles that were so crucial to combat training could unfold without the risk of real loss. It was the perfect testing ground for aura users, allowing them to push their limits, refine their skills, and face their greatest fears without the ultimate price.


    Gerry started his morning with precis and methodical care. He gelled his silver hair and bit and then stretched a few times after he cleaned himself with aura. Expelling dirt by pushing your aura from your skin was a fairly easy skill.


    Sliding into his sleek gray suit, he straightened the cuffs and collar, glancing at his reflection in the mirror with an air of steely determination.


    Breakfast was brought in via teleportation¡ªjust as he¡¯d been briefed by his superior. A hot meal appeared on the table as if by magic, delivered through the advanced technology of the Fighting Tower, designed to cater to participants¡¯ every need while keeping them confined within its walls. It felt stpid and redundant to him why they veven bothered to create those vending machines.


    ¡°Sheesh¡­ I could use some vacation¡­¡±


    Gerry wasn¡¯t here for the luxuries. He was here to kill.


    Two opportunities had been outlined for him. The first was during the gala following the fourth stage, but that chance had come and gone. Now, in the eighth stage, he faced his final opportunity. The Fighting Tower¡¯s so-called ¡°safety net,¡± designed to render death a mere illusion, would be a significant obstacle to his task. No ordinary weapon could accomplish what he needed; the tower¡¯s mechanisms would detect any conventional attack and nullify it, turning death into little more than a harmless dream.


    But Gerry had been prepared. His superior had armed him with something special, a dagger capable of bending probability itself. This weapon, unassuming in appearance but imbued with arcane science and aura that bypassed the tower¡¯s safeguards, could make death real. One stab was all it would take to bypass the tower¡¯s safety mechanisms and deliver a fatal blow.


    Gerry joined the crowd of contestants streaming out of their rooms, just in time to see the chairman''s hologram manifest in the center of the hall. The massive, bald head of Chairman Bob, conjured as an aura-based "hologram," floated mid-air, its exaggerated expression both intense and absurdly cheerful. Even now, Gerry could hardly believe that this eccentric man¡ªrumored to be capable of lazing around as much as he worked¡ªheld the highest position in the Hunter¡¯s Association.


    The chairman''s booming voice echoed through the tower, a strange mix of excitement and informality.


    "The time has come!" Bob''s eyes gleamed as he surveyed the audience of eager and nervous contestants. "128 participants will compete in this tower. Okay, where do I start?" He scratched his holographic head for effect, looking like he was genuinely lost in thought before remembering his place. "Right! 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."


    A ripple of uncertainty passed through the crowd as contestants exchanged glances.


    "But," he continued with a grin, "losing just once might not mean death, but it does mean you¡¯ll be trying again next year. You see, only the top sixteen earn the ¡®golden pass¡¯! The rest of you unlucky souls who lose¡ªwell, if you fight hard enough, we might give you a silver pass! That little gem will allow you to skip the first half of the exams the next time around.¡±


    Gerry could feel a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. So, losing could still offer a consolation prize.


    "Now, onto the rules!" Bob¡¯s holographic head grinned wider. "We¡¯re running a tournament bracket! You¡¯ll be fighting one-on-one in isolated arenas. No interference, no interruptions¡ªjust you, your opponent, and everything you¡¯ve got. The rooms where you slept last night aren¡¯t just for resting, either¡ªthey¡¯re special. When it¡¯s time to fight, those rooms will act as doors, teleporting you straight to the arena. No funny business, just fair and square."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    With that, the chairman''s grin turned wolfish, and his eyes glittered as he concluded. "So get ready. This is your chance to show us what you¡¯re made of¡ªor get thrown back to square one. Let the battles begin!"


    With that, the hologram vanished.


    Gerry walked down the quiet corridor back to his assigned room, the number "72" glaring at him from the door¡ªa reminder of his previous rank. It wasn¡¯t a bad score for a Caster. Many underestimated what he was capable of, thinking him just another spell-slinger. But Gerry had proven resourceful, infusing his weapons with his unique ¡°homing¡± attribute, which allowed him to maneuver past obstacles and ride the way to the finish line. Not bad for someone who could only rely on magic in a field dominated by brute force and martial prowess.


    He opened the door, expecting the cramped quarters he¡¯d slept in. But as he crossed the threshold, the scene transformed¡ªa spacious, open arena now stretched out before him, impossibly vast yet contained within the walls of this single, unassuming door. The air was dense with expectation, buzzing with the energy of countless matches and the weight of a thousand battles that had taken place here.


    Gerry''s eyes flicked to the opposite door, labeled "99." His opponent''s rank¡ªlow, and one he¡¯d expected to brush aside. But as the door began to creak open, he froze. Walking through the door was a figure he recognized, with a calm, calculating gaze, focused and unyielding. Reynard. His target.


    His heart thudded, a cocktail of excitement and tension surging through him. Reynard looked completely at ease, composed, as if this duel was merely another exercise. But Gerry knew better than to underestimate him, especially now. He felt the weight of the dagger hidden at his side, its blade shimmering with the probability-breaking power that made it deadly even in this arena.


    Reynard¡¯s expression shifted slightly as he took in Gerry¡¯s face. No fear, no surprise¡ªjust focus, sizing him up as one would a sparring partner, nothing more. Gerry¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. This would be the perfect chance, right here and now, to finally prove himself and fulfill his mission.


    In his mind, the plan was simple: face Reynard, win, and, at the critical moment, use the dagger. All he needed was a single strike to bypass the tower''s safety measures. Just one.


    Reynard stood in the middle of the arena, dressed in a sleek black suit that contrasted sharply with his pale skin. His dark hair framed a face that might have been handsome if not for the unyielding coldness in his eyes. His expression was a study in indifference, the sort of look that could drain the confidence of any challenger, and now he turned that empty gaze toward Gerry as if he were merely a pest to be swatted away.


    The dismissal in Reynard¡¯s look pierced Gerry¡¯s pride. This was no mere fight for rank or survival¡ªthis was vengeance. Reynard was the target of Gerry¡¯s assassination, the man responsible for killing his fianc¨¦e, the puppeteer who had been his partner in this mission. And according to the prophet, Reynard¡¯s threat to their cult was profound; he was hellbent on inconveniencing them to an extent they could not afford. This man had to be eliminated.


    Gerry¡¯s voice broke through the silence, seething with resentment. ¡°It¡¯s been a while. I will make you pay for killing my fianc¨¦e.¡±


    Reynard¡¯s gaze remained fixed, unflinching, and he replied, his voice a razor-sharp monotone. ¡°Do you fight by wagging your tongue?¡±


    The cold dismissal was like a slap, igniting Gerry¡¯s rage. ¡°YOU!?¡± His fists clenched, his face twisting with anger. Swiftly, Gerry lowered into a stance, his body radiating intent. He summoned his aura, feeling it spark and surge as he imbued himself with his ¡°homing¡± attribute, directing it into his limbs, his stance, his entire body. The homing attribute would make every strike seek its target with relentless precision.


    He could feel his muscles tense, his senses sharpen, everything aligning for one purpose: to kill Reynard.


    Gerry¡¯s aura flared, his energy rising like a storm within. Where others might hang back, casting spells from afar, he reveled in the heat of close combat, his homing attribute transforming him into a force to be reckoned with. He smirked, his eyes narrowing with determination as he stepped forward. "I am going to hurt you¡­ I will enjoy crushing you with my power that dictates fate. My aim has never failed me, and my truth is forever¡ª¡±


    Without another word, Gerry¡¯s form blurred, his homing attribute guiding his movements as he launched himself into the air with a flying kick. He streaked toward Reynard like a homing arrow, his trajectory flawless, his kick a blur of power and precision aimed right for Reynard¡¯s chest.


    But in a shocking display of reflex, Reynard twisted back, his upper body bending at an unnatural angle, his feet rooted firmly on the ground while his body tilted backward at an eerie ninety-degree bend. Gerry¡¯s kick sliced the air just inches from Reynard¡¯s face. Before Gerry could react, Reynard¡¯s hand shot up, grabbing his wrist with a vise-like grip as he hovered mid-air.


    In a flash of panic, Gerry channeled aura into his feet, swiveling his body out of Reynard¡¯s grasp with fluid grace. He twisted, transforming his escape into a deadly roundhouse kick aimed at Reynard¡¯s face. His foot connected with a sharp, resounding thwack that seemed powerful enough to slice through steel.


    But to his horror, Reynard remained unmoved. He didn¡¯t so much as flinch, his stance steady, his expression impassive as if pain were a foreign concept. Gerry¡¯s kick, designed to break his opponent, seemed to have no effect on this man who met his gaze with icy calm.


    Reynard moved like liquid steel, his grip iron-tight as he seized Gerry¡¯s leg mid-swing. With a quick shift of his stance, he balanced himself on one leg, anchoring his weight in a single powerful pivot. In a move as fluid as it was brutal, he swung Gerry¡¯s entire body with sheer force, the motion a masterful blend of strength and precision. Gerry barely registered the violent rush of air before his body crashed feet-first into the wall. The impact reverberated through his bones, his muscles aching as he steadied himself, toes scraping against the solid surface.


    But Gerry wasn¡¯t easily broken. He had faced horrors most couldn¡¯t imagine, clawing his way to survival time and again. His homing attribute might be underestimated by some, but Gerry had honed it to lethal effectiveness. Weak? Hardly. In one deft move, he channeled his homing ability into the floors and walls, creating an intricate circuit around Reynard. He dashed in a wide circle, blurring with incredible speed that left Reynard momentarily unable to catch him, his movements seamless, unpredictable.


    Reynard¡¯s eyes narrowed, his stance subtly adjusting.


    With one foot planted firmly and the other angled forward, he braced himself, eyes following Gerry¡¯s every move. His expression, cold and focused, barely flickered as Gerry barked out, "You¡¯re done for. You shouldn¡¯t have let me finish this."


    Reynard¡¯s response was venomous, slicing through Gerry¡¯s confidence with frigid contempt. "You bark like a dog. Do you shit like a dog too?"


    Fueled by rage, Gerry sneered, his aura flaring with the force of a declaration. ¡°VECTOR INFINITY!¡± he shouted, his voice echoing in the chamber. In the next instant, he vanished, reappearing in a blur with his fist plowing straight into Reynard¡¯s solar plexus, a blow capable of shattering even the strongest defenses.


    For a heartbeat, the air was still, the impact of the strike rippling outward.

 46 Dancing in My Palm

    Gerry¡¯s fist connected with Reynard¡¯s body like a sledgehammer, a ripple of force vibrating outward. With Vector Infinity activated, Gerry became a living blur, striking from all angles in a relentless assault. Each blow was precise and deadly, his fists drilling into Reynard¡¯s joints, twisting his wrists, and battering his torso with machine-like precision. He darted around the arena, using his homing spots like points in an invisible lattice. Each spot propelled him with inhuman speed, from point A to B to C, his path like lightning arcing through air.


    This was Gerry¡¯s masterpiece¡ªa crystallization of his homing attribute that allowed him to ride vectors in space. His foot barely touched down before he launched into the next spot, becoming a tempest of fists and knees, striking like a whirlwind. His movements were dizzyingly fast, his body vanishing and reappearing in a blink as he closed in on Reynard from impossible angles, each hit more vicious than the last. This is it, he thought, I¡¯ll humiliate him. Break him.


    The sounds of impacts echoed sharply, like bones splintering under pressure. Reynard¡¯s attempts to counter were limited, his reflexes stretched to their limit just to keep up with the blinding speed of Gerry¡¯s attacks. He managed to block here and there, but each hit he absorbed took a toll, forcing him to twist and lean with increasing difficulty. Yet even as he absorbed the pain, his eyes stayed locked onto Gerry, defiant and focused, his expression as unyielding as steel.


    Gerry felt the thrill of dominance surge within him, his attacks striking true. No one could withstand this. The sound of cracking bones filled the air, and he relished it, grinning viciously. But beneath the fury of his strikes, Reynard still stood, his body resisting, his presence unwavering in the storm of blows.


    Slowly, an inkling of disbelief was roused in Gerry¡¯s heart.


    Gerry¡¯s face twisted with rage and desperation as he continued his onslaught. He delivered a vicious palm strike to Reynard¡¯s throat, only for Reynard to sway subtly, absorbing the blow without a flicker of discomfort. Gerry¡¯s elbow snapped toward Reynard¡¯s temple, but Reynard tilted his head with an almost dismissive ease. Impossible, Gerry thought. He shifted, unleashing a brutal knee to Reynard¡¯s groin, but Reynard¡¯s stance adjusted, absorbing the blow with a calm, steely gaze that sent a chill down Gerry¡¯s spine.


    No matter the ferocity of his strikes or the precision with which he attacked, Reynard remained unperturbed and unbroken. A nagging doubt began to creep in. Was it invulnerability? Some kind of barrier skill? No¡­ there¡¯s no way, Gerry reassured himself. I would have noticed by now.


    But then, out of nowhere, his fist was intercepted mid-strike. Reynard¡¯s hand closed around it, his grip like iron.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting predictable,¡± Reynard remarked coolly, his voice low and taunting. ¡°There¡¯s no variety in your ¡®vectors,¡¯ is there?¡±


    For a moment, Gerry¡¯s confidence wavered. But then he gritted his teeth, ripping his fist free and leaping back, his determination igniting anew. Fine, if he¡¯s seeing through my patterns, I¡¯ll make them unpredictable.


    Gerry pushed Vector Infinity to its limit, expanding his network of spots, creating a spiderweb of vectors across the arena to ensure no predictable pattern would be discernible. With a flick of his aura, he shot forward, changing angles mid-flight, delivering punches, kicks, elbows, and knees in a frenzy. Each strike was followed by a rapid redirection, bouncing unpredictably from vector to vector. His speed reached a frenzied pitch, turning him into a ghostly whirlwind around Reynard, attacking from all conceivable directions.


    Yet the impact of his blows remained¡­ minimal. Reynard¡¯s stance adjusted, his body absorbing the strikes with a strength and calm that bordered on inhuman. And every time Gerry lunged in, Reynard¡¯s responses sharpened, his movements smoother, as if he were gradually reading Gerry¡¯s every intent. He¡¯s learning¡­ The realization struck Gerry with growing dread.


    Something¡­ something is very wrong.


    Finally, the disbelief was transformed into fear.


    Desperation clawed at Gerry as he refocused his efforts. He imbued his homing attribute selectively onto his right fist, feeling the precision of fate guide his strike. He blurred forward, the speed of his movement breaking the air in a sharp crack.


    The fist streaked toward Reynard like a meteor¡ªunstoppable, inevitable.


    But it was stopped. Reynard¡¯s guard, raised with eerie calm, intercepted the blow perfectly. His forearm absorbed the brunt of the strike, his body unmoving, as if Gerry¡¯s attack was no more than a gentle tap.


    Gritting his teeth, Gerry zoomed to the left in a zigzagging motion, his movements frantic and erratic, trying to shake Reynard¡¯s tracking. He imbued the homing attribute onto his left foot, channeling all his momentum into a powerful roundhouse kick. His aura flared, the kick fast enough to slice the air audibly.


    Again, Reynard blocked it. This time with a simple, almost dismissive palm gesture. His hand met Gerry¡¯s foot with precise timing, absorbing the force without a shred of imbalance. The energy of Gerry¡¯s attack dissipated, leaving Reynard untouched.


    Normally, Gerry¡¯s attacks was enough to rip a man apart.


    Gerry skidded back, breathing heavily, sweat trickling down his brow. His mind raced. How is he doing this? Reynard hadn¡¯t moved offensively yet, but his defense was airtight, impenetrable. It was as if Reynard¡¯s every action was calculated to neutralize Gerry¡¯s abilities entirely.


    Reynard tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. ¡°Is this the best you can do?¡± he asked, his voice low and biting. ¡°I¡¯ve finished studying your patterns¡­ What else can you show me?¡±


    The words struck harder than any blow, and Gerry¡¯s frustration boiled over. No, there has to be a way! He prepared to launch himself again, this time determined to break through Reynard¡¯s guard, no matter the cost.


    Gerry¡¯s frustration had reached its boiling point. For all his speed, precision, and the power of his homing attribute, Reynard had countered him at every turn. Worse, Reynard seemed to be learning, his responses growing faster, his movements more exact with every clash. A cold sweat crept down Gerry¡¯s spine as he realized he couldn¡¯t drag this fight out any longer. If he did, something terrible might happen¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t recover from.


    Gritting his teeth, Gerry made his decision. He reached into his coat and withdrew two weapons: a sleek dagger with a gleaming, almost otherworldly sheen in his right hand, and a compact handgun in his left. The dagger was his ace¡ªa tool of probability disruption, designed specifically to bypass the tower¡¯s miraculous murder-prevention feature.


    Normally, Gerry would have used knives instead of a gun. Specifically, knives crafted from human bones, it was the perfect medium for his homing attribute. After all, his homing attribute worked best on live organic materials. With very few exception. The handgun, by contrast, was straightforward but deadly¡ªa means to overwhelm Reynard with unrelenting pressure.


    "Let¡¯s see you stop this," Gerry muttered under his breath.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    With a sharp exhale, he moved. Vector Infinity activated, and Gerry became a blur, zigzagging through the arena with incomprehensible speed. He fired the gun, each shot coming from an unexpected angle as his homing attribute guided his body to impossibly tricky positions. The bullets didn¡¯t curve or follow strange paths, but their sheer quantity, combined with Gerry¡¯s relentless movements, created a dizzying storm of projectiles.


    Reynard¡¯s body was a whirlwind of motion as he moved to intercept the assault. His hands blurred as he deflected or dodged each bullet. The sound of ricocheting shots filled the arena, a cacophony of chaos.


    But Gerry wasn¡¯t done. As he closed the distance, he swung the dagger with deadly precision. It was aimed at Reynard¡¯s throat, its probability-breaking power meant to end this battle in one decisive strike. Reynard tilted his head, narrowly dodging the blade, but Gerry pressed on, his attacks flowing seamlessly between slashes with the dagger and precise, close-range shots from his gun.


    The intensity of the battle reached a fever pitch.


    Gerry¡¯s breath came in short gasps, but he didn¡¯t let up. Each movement was sharper and more desperate than the last. Reynard¡¯s cold gaze never wavered, but Gerry noticed something unsettling in it¡ªan unshakable calm, as though Reynard knew exactly how this would end.


    It was unreal.


    Gerry¡¯s bullets swarmed through the air, a dizzying vortex of death closing in from every angle. Yet Reynard moved with a precision that defied comprehension. Each movement was calculated to the millisecond, his body swaying and twisting as if physics itself bent to his will. The bullets never touched him, passing within hairsbreadths but never connecting. It wasn¡¯t invulnerability, Gerry realized, but something far more terrifying: absolute calculation.


    For the first time, fear gripped Gerry. His homing attribute had never failed him. Every opponent he¡¯d faced until now had been overwhelmed, crushed by his overwhelming speed and precision. But Reynard was an enigma. Gerry couldn¡¯t fathom his ability, couldn¡¯t understand how this man was evading what should have been inescapable.


    But Gerry wasn¡¯t one to give up, even in the face of the unknown. If I can¡¯t hit him the normal way, then I¡¯ll risk everything! he thought.


    Gerry''s eyes narrowed as he enacted his final gambit. Each bullet in the air¡ªimbued with his homing attribute¡ªbecame a spot in his ever-evolving vector network. Unlike the static points he¡¯d used before, these bullets created a mobile, shifting web of paths, each one recalculating in real-time as they tore through the arena. Gerry moved like a phantom, an impossible barrage of afterimages rushing toward Reynard from every conceivable direction.


    Reynard stood his ground, his cold gaze locked onto Gerry. The bullets grazed his suit, tearing fabric and sending threads scattering into the air. He made no attempt to dodge the chaos this time. He simply watched.


    And then Gerry was there.


    In a millisecond, he materialized directly in front of Reynard, his dagger poised with lethal precision. The blade, gleaming with the promise of death, plunged forward and struck true, piercing Reynard¡¯s chest. Gerry felt the resistance of flesh and bone as the dagger sank deep, bypassing the tower''s miraculous protections like they didn¡¯t even exist.


    Victory surged through Gerry¡¯s veins. He stared into Reynard¡¯s eyes, expecting to see pain, fear, something. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.


    Reynard¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. His face remained as calm, as unreadable, as it had been from the beginning.


    Gerry froze as the blade remained lodged in Reynard¡¯s chest, unmoving. His breath quickened when he realized something was wrong. There was no blood. Not a single drop.


    The dagger should have worked. It was designed to defy the rules of the World Tower, to bypass the miraculous protections that turned death into a mere inconvenience. Yet Reynard just stood there, unflinching, his cold eyes locked on Gerry''s in an unsettling, piercing gaze.


    Sweat began to bead on Gerry¡¯s forehead. He stammered, ¡°W-What are you?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. ¡°Your worst nightmare.¡±


    Without warning, Reynard¡¯s hand shot forward, gripping Gerry¡¯s wrist with an ironclad grip. In one fluid motion, he twisted Gerry¡¯s arm, forcing the dagger to clatter to the floor. The movement was efficient, almost mechanical. Reynard picked up the dagger, examining it briefly with dispassionate curiosity. It looked ordinary¡ªmundane, even. Yet he felt a unique resonance within it, something akin to an aura attribute, though distinctly foreign.


    ¡°This dagger,¡± Reynard muttered, tilting it in the dim light. ¡°Strange. Not aura, but something else entirely.¡±


    Gerry winced, his free hand swinging in an attempt to break Reynard¡¯s hold. Before he could land the blow, an eerie, bluish glow emanated from Reynard¡¯s body. Ethereal chains and strings erupted from thin air, snaking toward Gerry with impossible precision. They wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso, binding him in place. The chains glowed faintly as they anchored him to the floor and ceiling, suspending him like an insect trapped in a cocoon. Only his face remained visible, wide-eyed and drenched in panic.


    ¡°What¡ªwhat is this?!¡± Gerry shouted, struggling against the spectral bonds. His body strained, but the chains didn¡¯t budge.


    Reynard¡¯s gaze grew colder as he stepped closer, his shadow falling over Gerry like an executioner. ¡°The conditions have been met. Multiple physical contacts confirmed. A total of 87 Soul Chains embedded. Soul Marks have been primed. Total domination is viable. How do you wish to proceed?¡±


    The detached, clinical tone of Reynard¡¯s words sent shivers down Gerry¡¯s spine. It was like he wasn¡¯t speaking to him but to some unseen force.


    ¡°What? What are you talking about? You¡¯re talking strangely!¡± Gerry¡¯s voice trembled, his confusion mixing with terror.


    Reynard tilted his head slightly, his movements unnervingly precise. There was something deeply wrong, something uncanny about him. It was as if Reynard wasn¡¯t human at all. The air around him felt heavier, oppressive, as if reality itself strained under his presence.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to understand,¡± Reynard said, his voice devoid of emotion. ¡°You only need to submit.¡±


    Gerry¡¯s screams echoed through the arena, but Reynard didn¡¯t flinch.


    It was strange¡­ Eveyrthing was strange¡­


    For a moment, a flicker of warmth¡ªor something resembling humanity¡ªreturned to Reynard¡¯s cold and calculating eyes. He tilted his head slightly, and the mechanical precision of his movements softened. His voice, now natural and disturbingly calm, broke the silence.


    ¡°There is nothing strange at all,¡± Reynard began. ¡°I am merely reciprocating the ill will that has been inflicted upon me.¡± He held the dagger lightly between his fingers, pressing its sharp edge to Gerry¡¯s cheek. A thin line of blood beaded where the blade kissed skin.


    ¡°Interesting dagger,¡± Reynard murmured, studying it closely. ¡°It carries the nullify attribute. Disrupting probability¡­ poetic. But let¡¯s see what it really does¡­ and if it even works¡­¡±


    Gerry thrashed against his bonds, panic overriding his composure. ¡°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 remained fixed on Gerry, utterly unshaken. A cold, cruel smile tugged at his lips. ¡°What if the Association is complicit in this murder?¡±


    Gerry¡¯s protests faltered as his words caught in his throat. Reynard¡¯s eyes shifted slightly, his focus drifting past Gerry to the arena wall, where faint distortions in the air hinted at the watchful presence of unseen spectators.


    ¡°You must be watching, right?¡± Reynard said aloud, his voice laced with veiled menace. ¡°Hunter¡¯s Association¡­ do not inconvenience me.¡±


    The words hung ominously in the air, but Gerry barely had time to process them. A sudden, bone-deep chill swept over him as his captor¡¯s features began to shift. The Reynard before him was no longer flesh and blood. His skin peeled back like paper dissolving in fire, revealing beneath it a mannequin-like form. Its blank, expressionless surface wore the same tailored suit Reynard had, its proportions eerily perfect. The mannequin tilted its head slightly, mimicking Reynard¡¯s mannerisms with unsettling precision.


    ¡°What¡­ What are you?¡± Gerry stammered, his voice barely a whisper.


    The chains and strings binding Gerry transformed into glowing, unyielding metal. They coiled tighter, compressing his limbs and torso. Gerry screamed, his voice raw and desperate, but the chains didn¡¯t relent. They squeezed and twisted, breaking bones with sickening cracks. As his body gave way under the relentless pressure, something even stranger began to happen.


    Gerry¡¯s mouth moved involuntarily, and words spilled forth¡ªnot cries for mercy, but confessions. Every heinous act he had committed, every secret tied to the Elsewhere Cult, poured out as though dragged from the depths of his soul. He confessed to his crimes against the Hunter¡¯s Association, the lives he¡¯d taken, the deals he¡¯d brokered, and the atrocities he¡¯d sanctioned. His voice cracked with terror, but he couldn¡¯t stop speaking.


    It wasn¡¯t out of his free will.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have associated yourself with the cult,¡± Reynard¡¯s voice came again, cold and resolute.


    The mannequin remained still, watching impassively as Gerry¡¯s confessions continued until the chains tightened one final time. The sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh was deafening, followed by silence. The chains were dyed red by blood and as finally¡­ with a powerful snap¡­ Gerry finally died.

 47 Last Night

    What happened last night?


    After Atropos left me alone, the first thought that crossed my mind was, Damn¡­ I just acquired a rather powerful weapon. The doll now in my possession wasn¡¯t just some tool; it was a force to be reckoned with. It could hold its ground against an experienced Hunter and still come out ahead.


    Before my self-proclaimed sister¡¯s aura fully faded from the doll, I used my Soul Link to borrow her attribute. Atropos¡¯s attribute, Doll, was the foundation of her Maker State, and it offered more utility than I initially expected. I decided to discard my own Connection attribute temporarily and made a quick visit to Selena. From her, I borrowed her Disguise attribute.


    The plan? Combine Doll, Puppetry, and Disguise to redesign the doll I had claimed. Why Disguise? Simple. It wasn¡¯t just about visual alteration; it could tweak physical components to a degree. That level of derivation was incredibly useful for the task at hand.


    I spent the entire night working on the transformation. The doll¡¯s original design was functional but crude¡ªa combat machine stripped of any resemblance to humanity. Its blade-like hands and legs were undeniably powerful, but I needed something more versatile. Something subtle.


    The first thing I changed was the hands. I reshaped the sharp, metallic claws into articulated fingers, ensuring the doll could manipulate objects with precision. Next were the legs. The bladed limbs, while devastating, lacked subtlety. I transmuted the material, reshaping them into something resembling human legs with proper feet.


    This wasn¡¯t about adding new materials or components. I didn¡¯t need them. All I needed was to transmute the doll¡¯s existing structure, thanks to my complete usurpation of Atropos¡¯s control. For that, I had my Puppetry attribute to thank. It allowed me to mold the doll like clay, bending its form to match my vision.


    In the end, I had created a perfect humanoid replica¡ªor nearly perfect. Despite my efforts, I couldn¡¯t remove its feminine aesthetics entirely. The chest bulge and pronounced hips remained. Modifying those areas would have required extensive restructuring, and I didn¡¯t have the time¡ªor the patience¡ªfor that level of precision.


    Still, the result was impressive. The doll now stood as a seamless blend of functionality and subtlety, ready to serve my purpose.


    The doll in front of me looked far more like a mannequin than a person, stripped of the ornate decor that Atropos had given it. Gone were the gaudy accessories and unnecessary embellishments, though the maid-like outfit it originally wore seemed to be crafted from expensive materials. Perhaps I could repurpose that later.


    I glanced at the clock.


    ¡°I might as well work on it now.¡±


    Aura wasn¡¯t my strong suit when it came to my Maker affinity, but through sheer technique and precision, I managed to create something new out of the maid aoutfit: a frilly black-and-white cloak imbued with invisibility, courtesy of Selena¡¯s Disguise attribute. Unfortunately, the cloak¡¯s invisibility only functioned while I had Disguise loaded in my slots, making it situational at best.


    It helped that I found a sewing kit around.


    Speaking of Disguise, it offered me another avenue for my strategy. I decided to alter the mannequin¡¯s appearance. If I could make it resemble me, I could use it as a decoy in battle. My plan was simple: hide under the cloak¡¯s invisibility and let the mannequin fight in my place. The trick was ensuring its movements were convincing enough not to arouse suspicion.


    To execute this, I swapped out Disguise to reopen a slot and reactivated my Connection attribute. With it, I trained relentlessly through the night, combining it with my Puppetry attribute to create a new technique: Soul Marionette. This ability allowed me to control the doll with invisible strings formed from interlinked Soul Links and Soul Marks.


    The Connection attribute enhanced my training efficiency significantly. While practicing my puppetry, I also refined the doll¡¯s design. Using Atropos¡¯s Doll attribute as a foundation, I optimized its structure, improving its balance, flexibility, and reaction time. By the time I was done, the doll wasn¡¯t just an improved version¡ªit was a superior one.


    I could confidently say that this new creation was at least 1.5 times more effective than Atropos¡¯s original design. What I had in front of me was no longer a mere mannequin or tool. It was a finely tuned weapon, ready to execute my strategy with precision.


    The next day arrived, and with it, the usual haze of fatigue that followed a night of minimal rest. I had lost the Doll attribute now¡ªits temporary residency in my slots was over¡ªbut the two hours of sleep I managed were sufficient. After waking, the first thing I did was call Selena to borrow her Disguise attribute once more. My loadout for the day was simple yet efficient: Connection, Puppetry, and Disguise.


    It was a tried combo already, so I held a bit of confidence with them on my loadout.


    Now, back to the present.


    The Soul Chains encasing Gerry dissipated like mist, and his limp body collapsed to the ground like he was a heap of rags battered by the storm. His confession had served its purpose. I retrieved a hidden pen recorder from my pocket, borrowed from Selena. Double-clicking it, I sent a copy of Gerry¡¯s confession directly to her. The recording would serve as leverage against the Elsewhere Cult¡ªa weapon for a different kind of battle.


    As for the dagger¡­ That was another story. It was a fascinating piece, disruptive to probability itself and capable of bypassing the tower¡¯s anti-lethality protections. A dangerous artifact, no doubt. Unfortunately, it was also a liability I couldn¡¯t keep. The Hunter¡¯s Association would demand it, and refusing to hand it over wasn¡¯t an option. Promising not to use it? Laughable. It was better to surrender it outright than risk unnecessary suspicion.


    But how had I extracted Gerry¡¯s confession so thoroughly?


    The answer lay in my Soul Link ability. With it, I could equalize and borrow another person¡¯s aura by linking to them. When I returned their aura, I retained partial control over it, turning it into a tool for sabotage. Now, what happens when multiple Soul Links are embedded in a single person? The answer was simple: they fall completely under my control.


    I¡¯d used this principle to devastating effect. By cycling Gerry¡¯s aura through my Soul Links and infecting him with my influence, I turned him into a puppet. The Soul Chains¡ªa fusion of interconnected Soul Links and Soul Marks¡ªserved as the ultimate entrapment. While cocooned within them, Gerry¡¯s aura was mine to manipulate, leaving him no chance of resisting.


    If he had even an ounce of decent technique, he could¡¯ve undone my Soul Chains, cleansing them link by link. But he didn¡¯t. And so, he broke.


    It was a pity his skill didn¡¯t live up to his bluster. Still, it worked in my favor. He wasn¡¯t worth the trouble. Now, I had his confession, his dagger, and his defeat. One fewer problem to contend with.


    I had my doll kick Gerry¡¯s limp body, just to check for any signs of life. There was nothing. No twitch, no groan¡ªnothing to indicate he was anything more than a broken husk.


    Next, I had the doll retrieve the discarded gun from the ground. With mechanical precision, it fired several rounds into Gerry¡¯s torso. Each shot struck true, but still, there was no reaction.


    Satisfied that Gerry was out for good, 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 weren¡¯t a combination I enjoyed, but it had done its job. I¡¯d get rid of it soon enough.


    Speaking of getting rid of things, I let go of the Disguise attribute. I didn¡¯t need it anymore; its purpose had been served. In its place, I claimed something new. Something permanent. Gerry¡¯s Homing attribute.


    At first glance, Homing seemed simple, maybe even unremarkable. But I¡¯d seen firsthand how potent it could be. Gerry had refined it through sheer brute force, turning it into something terrifyingly effective. His Vector Infinity technique alone was enough to push even an experienced fighter to their limits.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I could only imagine how someone like Selena would have dealt with him. In fact, as the author of this entire mess, I didn¡¯t have to imagine too hard. If Selena had been in my position, she wouldn¡¯t have fought head-on. She would¡¯ve outclassed him with her superior technique, tweaking the aura embedded in his vectors and destabilizing them entirely. Gerry¡¯s carefully constructed paths would have backfired, sending him careening straight into a wall. Splat. Game over.


    It was almost funny to think about. If only I had Selena¡¯s training and aptitude, I might have pulled off something similar. 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. And now, with this new power, I¡¯d push my skills even further.


    The arena around me began to shift with a series of mechanical clicks and clacks echoing through the air. The ground trembled faintly beneath my feet as if an enormous puzzle box had been set in motion. Panels slid into place, walls rotated, and new shapes emerged. It was like being inside a massive Rubik''s Cube, each piece rearranging itself with perfect precision.


    I didn¡¯t panic. Instead, I stood still, keeping my footing steady, watching with passive interest. After all, this wasn¡¯t my first time seeing the arena''s theatrics. There were 128 participants in this trial, which meant I¡¯d need to fight eight matches to win. This was just the beginning.


    If I understood the schedule correctly, there would be two matches back-to-back today and tomorrow. That left me with seven more battles ahead. But something about this 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 just sent an elevator or transitioned the space more discreetly. Instead, the surroundings seemed¡­ agitated, as though some greater event was about to unfold.


    The shifting finally stopped, and I found myself standing in a peculiar space. It resembled a courtroom, though exaggerated to an almost surreal degree. The walls loomed high, and the pedestals surrounding me were impossibly tall, stretching far above my head. When I craned my neck to look up, a dull ache shot through it.


    Seated at one of the pedestals, grinning with unnerving cheer, was a bald man I recognized immediately. His presence confirmed my suspicions¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just another round.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± he said, his voice carrying an edge of amusement. ¡°We meet again, Reynard, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    The chairman of the Hunter¡¯s Association.


    I stared back at him. So, they¡¯d gone through all this trouble to bring me here. I had a feeling this wasn¡¯t going to be a pleasant conversation. I asked for this, so I couldn¡¯t exactly blame anyone.


    I took a better look at the figures seated below the chairman¡¯s towering perch. They were five faces I recognized instantly, not from life but from the pages of Hunterworks. Each one matched their description from the novel¡ªdown to their clothing, posture, and the intangible weight of their presence.


    From left to right sat Atropos, with her razor-sharp glare that seemed to cut through anything; Maurice, the ever-composed bodyguard dressed in an everyday clothes; Tori, whose discerning eyes behind the glasses honed on me; Klein, stoic and brooding, his albinism creating a powerful contrast; and finally, Dr. Yamada, calm yet unnervingly clinical, his eyes scanning everything as though disassembling it in her mind.


    Five out of ten directors of the Hunter¡¯s Association. This wasn¡¯t a simple inquiry¡ªit was a tribunal.


    The chairman¡¯s booming voice broke the tense silence. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it.¡±


    I stretched out my hand, the dagger gleaming ominously in my grip. The room¡¯s atmosphere shifted immediately. A wave of severe aura fluctuations rippled through the air, crackling like static. Each director¡¯s eyes sharpened, their auras bristling with tension. It wasn¡¯t until that moment I realized how it must have looked¡ªme standing there, dagger in hand, as if I were threatening them.


    Atropos, surprisingly, was the one to step in. ¡°We appreciate your cooperation,¡± she said, her voice measured but firm. ¡°Please hand the dagger to the maid.¡±


    Her words were a lifeline, defusing the situation.


    Only then did I notice the figure standing quietly beside me. The maid had snuck up without a sound, her presence almost unnervingly subtle. But my Puppetry attribute gave me an edge. I could tell, even without physical signs, that this wasn¡¯t a human being. The subtle way her joints moved, the eerie precision of her movements¡ªit screamed artificial.


    Still, by appearance alone, the maid could have passed as human. She had vibrant purple hair tied neatly, dark, almost bottomless eyes, and an amiable smile that gave no hint of malice.


    I hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing over the dagger. Her porcelain-like hands accepted it delicately. Despite knowing it was a doll¡ªlikely one of Atropos¡¯s creations¡ªit was unnerving how natural and humanlike it appeared.


    I stood tall, my voice firm as I delivered my opening remark. ¡°Don¡¯t get in my way.¡±


    There was no need for pretense. I didn¡¯t plan to defend myself, call for justice, or plead for mercy. Let them judge me openly, hate me if they must. I wasn¡¯t here to win their approval. If I joined this organization, I needed to know who I could trust and who I couldn¡¯t¡ªplain and simple.


    Maurice leaned back in his chair, his youthful face breaking into a grin. ¡°This guy sure knows how to talk.¡±


    He looked like a kid, his afro and dark skin giving him an air of playful mischief. If I didn¡¯t know better, I might¡¯ve dismissed him as a child playing dress-up. But Maurice was no child. He was the chairman¡¯s personal bodyguard¡ªa position that spoke volumes about his capability.


    Klein was the next to speak, his voice calm and measured. ¡°Now, now¡­ he¡¯s someone filled with confidence. And he has the ability to back it up.¡±


    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 that bore a provocative image: a monkey using a flag to wipe its backside. It was bold and irreverent, much like the man himself.


    Tori adjusted her tie and began polishing her glasses with a cloth. ¡°He is suspicious after all,¡± she said coolly, her tone carrying a weight of caution. ¡°Thus, this matter must be handled carefully.¡±


    Her presence exuded sharp intelligence. She had a poker face that was nearly impossible to read, but her actions betrayed her as someone who missed nothing. I felt her aura probing me¡ªgentle but persistent. It wasn¡¯t painful, just¡­ irritating.


    The sensation of those aura pokes pricked at me like a buzzing gnat. It wasn¡¯t something I could resist. My aura was thin, stretched to its limits after the battle, and completely incapable of fending off her advanced probing. If I guessed right, this was the Seeker Eyes technique, trained to a high level. It wasn¡¯t dangerous, but it was invasive, designed to test the layers of my being.


    I suppressed my annoyance and held my ground.


    This wasn¡¯t the moment to let my frustration show.


    I cleared my throat, projecting 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. How did I know about the tower¡¯s abilities? Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m well-informed. But the real issue here isn¡¯t the kill itself. It¡¯s my supposed connection with Atropos.¡±


    I gestured to my doll.


    Atropos, clad in her maid uniform, stood motionless. Her expression was unreadable, completely 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 reaction from her. Perhaps she¡¯d grown too good at keeping her emotions buried.


    The doll I had reconstructed stood silently at my side, an unnervingly lifelike mannequin. I gestured toward it 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, and I caught glimpses of incredulity and suspicion from the gathered directors. Atropos ignored the noise and, in her usual emotionless tone, elaborated. ¡°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 chairman and my colleagues.¡±


    The murmurs grew louder, some tinged with disbelief, others with amusement.


    Dr. Yamada, ever the picture of callousness, chimed in with a smirk, ¡°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.¡±


    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.¡±


    I watched the room carefully, gauging reactions. The tension was thick, but I could see the flicker of intrigue in a few of their eyes. I wasn¡¯t just defending myself. I was putting the burden of this mess on their shoulders. Whether they liked it or not, I¡¯d laid out the cards for them to consider.


    Chairman Bob leaned back in his high seat, his grin widening as he clapped his hands once, the sound echoing in the vast room. ¡°Welp, this is a checkmate, guys. My man here has a point. And no, Dr. Yamada, killing him is not nice.¡± He wagged a finger in mock disapproval toward the doctor, whose smirk faded into a disgruntled frown.


    Bob¡¯s gaze turned toward the other directors, his tone growing softer but retaining its edge of authority. ¡°At some point, I¡¯m fairly certain this young man will be one of our colleagues. So, let¡¯s all play nice, hmm?¡±


    I inclined my head, the smallest smirk playing at my lips. ¡°Thank you, chairman.¡±


    Bob waved me off casually. ¡°You are dismissed.¡±


    I knew better than to overstay my welcome. If I could avoid trouble, then I would. This was my principle in motion. Trouble wasn¡¯t something I sought¡ªit had a tendency to find me anyway. So, if Atropos insisted on calling me her younger brother, I might as well lean into that connection. It would be useful in the long run.


    Before leaving, I glanced at Atropos. Her impassive mask cracked for the briefest moment, her expression shifting into something complicated¡ªconflicted, perhaps, or hesitant.


    I smiled faintly and said, ¡°Until then, sister.¡±


    With that, I turned and strode toward the door that had opened behind me. The sound of my boots against the polished floor echoed as I left the courtroom behind, the tension in the room dissipating like a broken spell.

 48 Mansel Aftermath

    As Reynard exited the room, the atmosphere shifted from tense to oddly casual. The directors exchanged glances, each reacting differently to the exchange.


    It was quite high from where they stood that it looked impractical in a courtroom hearing, but it was in fact a precaution. No way any ¡®defendant¡¯ could easily cross that gap if they decided on a more nuclear option after being caught.


    Atropos crossed her arms with a stoic expression, yet tinged with an undercurrent of turmoil. Reynard¡¯s behavior troubled her. It wasn¡¯t the amnesia he claimed or the strange familiarity he had insisted upon when he exchanged eyes seconds ago¡ªit was the transactional nature of his demeanor. He was using her. That much seemed clear. The realization didn¡¯t surprise her; it simply solidified the chasm between who they had once been and who they had become.


    Bob let out a booming laugh, the sound breaking the silence like a hammer. ¡°Hahahaha~! What an interesting guy, isn¡¯t he? What is he? Like five years younger than me?¡± He slammed his desk as if he was having fun. He was clearly entertained.


    Dr. Yamada rubbed his neck nervously, his usual smugness absent. ¡°So scary¡­ I think he wanted to kill me.¡±


    Maurice shot him a sidelong glance, shaking his head in exasperation. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have provoked him. Why¡¯d you say that?¡±


    Klein leaned back with a mischievous grin, his albino complexion practically glowing under the harsh lights. ¡°Ahahaha~! Don¡¯t worry, I actually asked the doc to say that to him, so it isn¡¯t like the doctor had gone insane.¡± He waved off Maurice¡¯s concern with a carefree flick of his hand. ¡°Trust me, Doc, you won¡¯t get killed over it. You¡¯re a doctor¡ªthat¡¯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?¡± Whatever dealing had gone, the ¡®thing¡¯ in question was definitely of ¡®adult¡¯ nature.


    Maurice groaned, his dark complexion darkening further as he massaged his temples. ¡°What the hell? That¡¯s your ¡®price¡¯? Seriously? Still, that Reynard¡­ That guy¡¯s aura is weird. I can¡¯t tell if I should be scared or not. Is his aura control just that good, or is it actually that ordinary?¡±


    Atropos finally stirred, her voice cold but even. ¡°Reynard¡¯s aura isn¡¯t ordinary. It¡¯s¡­ mutated. You feel nothing because it is too different to our senses.¡±


    Her words silenced the group momentarily. Bob grinned, as if he had figured it out before anyone else. Maurice frowned, visibly uneasy, while Klein¡¯s grin merely widened, his curiosity piqued further.


    As the conversation shifted back to casual banter, Atropos remained still, her mind distant. Reynard¡¯s parting words lingered. Until then, sister¡­


    The words were simple, but the tone was cutting. It wasn¡¯t familial¡ªit was strategic. She could recognize it because it was something she might¡¯ve said herself. For the first time in a long while, she wondered if her brother was more like her than she cared to admit.


    Atropos¡¯s normally composed expression softened for just a moment as memories of the past surfaced. When they were young, Reynard¡¯s voice had been so full of warmth and affection. He used to call her ¡°Big Sis¡± with a bright smile that could melt even her steely exterior. That boy was gone now, replaced by a cold, calculating man who regarded her as little more than a tool to be used.


    The sharp contrast stung.


    She remembered the day she had hidden in the shadows to witness his wedding. Atropos had stayed out of sight, observing from afar as Reynard exchanged vows with a woman who carried an aura of power and charisma. Leora, a hunter of remarkable skill and fame, had been the kind of woman Atropos might have admired in another life. Yet here she was, unknowingly tied to Atropos by marriage.


    Her thoughts turned darker as she recalled the whirlwind of events that had followed. Reynard, once a promising young man with a stable life, had been thrust into chaos. His connection to the Elsewhere Cult, a shadowy organization that even the Hunter¡¯s Association didn¡¯t know existed, had turned him into a man on the run.


    ¡°Atropos,¡± Tori¡¯s sharp voice cut through her reverie, yanking her back to the present. The woman¡¯s glasses glinted as she adjusted them, her gaze cold and probing. ¡°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 face regaining its usual impassivity. ¡°I agree. We need to fail him.¡±


    The room went silent. Atropos¡¯s words carried weight, and the directors turned to her, startled by her unexpected stance.


    Tori narrowed her eyes. ¡°You agree? Then why bring him here in the first place?¡±


    Atropos didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°To protect him. The farther he is from the hunter¡¯s life, the better. Failing him would ensure that.¡±


    Klein chuckled, leaning back with an amused grin. ¡°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, ever aloof, yawned loudly and casually pulled out an ero manga from seemingly nowhere. He began flipping through it with practiced ease, entirely detached from the gravity of the conversation.


    Maurice sighed, his deep voice tinged with exasperation. ¡°No way, Klein. He goes with me. HR is overstaffed anyway. I could use someone like him to pick up the slack.¡±


    Bob¡¯s booming laughter filled the chamber, silencing the petty squabble between Klein, Maurice, and the others. The chairman leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ornate pedestal. His grin stretched wide, his jovial demeanor belying the weight of his words.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°He wanted to be a Hunting Dog though?¡±


    The room fell into an uneasy quiet. Those five words carried a gravity that even the most outspoken among them couldn¡¯t ignore. The Hunting Dogs¡ªan elite yet infamous organization within the Hunter¡¯s Association¡ªwas not a path anyone entered lightly.


    The Hunting Dogs were a peculiar collection of individuals: psychopaths, criminals looking for redemption or leverage, battle-addicted lunatics, and oddballs driven by goals that required the complete forfeiture of dignity and freedom. Joining them was less a job and more a life sentence, bound by ironclad rules and a relentless drive for results.


    Atropos¡¯s expression tightened imperceptibly, though she kept her voice neutral. ¡°That¡¯s precisely why he shouldn¡¯t join.¡±


    Bob arched an eyebrow at her, his tone playful yet pointed. ¡°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. ¡°That¡¯s why I know he doesn¡¯t belong there.¡±


    Klein chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. ¡°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 shook his head, 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 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. Her legacy was undeniable¡ªa force of nature who had done the impossible by walking away from the Hunting Dogs with her dignity and freedom intact. She was a living legend and, as fate would have it, Reynard¡¯s wife.


    Bob tapped his fingers against the edge of the pedestal, his grin fading slightly. ¡°That¡¯s exactly the point. If anyone¡¯s got the guts to handle the Dogs and come out alive, it¡¯s someone married to her.¡±


    Atropos¡¯s hands tightened into fists beneath the table. The mere thought of Reynard in that chaotic, brutal organization made her stomach churn. She wanted him as far from that life as possible.


    But Bob had already made his decision. With a dismissive wave, he cut through the murmurs. ¡°No arguments. The Hunting Dogs want him, and he wants them. Let¡¯s not waste time bickering over something that¡¯s already set in motion.¡±


    His tone was final, leaving no room for debate.


    Atropos¡¯s chest tightened. She had seen firsthand what the Hunting Dogs did to people¡ªhow it warped them, turned them into shadows of their former selves. She had to find a way to stop this. But for now, all she could do was glare silently as Bob¡¯s booming laughter filled the room once more.


    Dr. Yamada was fiddling absentmindedly with the edge of his lab coat when he butted in. His tone was light, but his words carried an undertone of genuine curiosity. ¡°What did he want to achieve by joining the Dogs, though? Seems like a death wish if you ask me.¡±


    Tori adjusted her glasses, her expression calm but her eyes sharp. ¡°From my sources, it sounds like he¡¯s fighting an organization called the Elsewhere Cult.¡±


    That name immediately drew Atropos¡¯s full attention. She remained silent but watched the room carefully, her sharp gaze shifting from face to face as Tori continued.


    ¡°Two years ago, an attack was carried out against the Bright family,¡± Tori said, her tone clipped and professional. ¡°During the incident, the only son of Leora Bright and Reynard Bright was said to have been critically injured or dead. Emphasis on ¡®said¡¯, but probably Leora¡¯s misinformation attempts. Shortly after, Reynard disappeared.¡±


    Atropos kept her face impassive, though the words stung. She had followed that incident closely, investigating every lead she could find. Yet despite her efforts, the trail had gone cold. It left a gnawing frustration in her chest that never quite faded.


    Tori tapped her fingers on the desk, her expression darkening. ¡°Some time later, Leora annihilated a mercenary group called the Oval. It wasn¡¯t a small skirmish; she completely dismantled them. Fast forward two years, and Reynard reemerges as an unofficial hunter. Recent events suggest he¡¯s gained significant hunting experience during his absence. After all, he just infiltrated and wreaked havoc at a gala, killing multiple attendees. My team¡¯s still piecing together the connections, but it¡¯s highly likely Reynard¡¯s targets had ties to the Oval or the attack on his family.¡±


    She paused, her fingers stilling. ¡°What¡¯s unclear is what he hopes to achieve by joining the Hunting Dogs. However, I did trace several offshore accounts linked to the gala¡¯s victims. They all lead back to a singular entity: the Elsewhere Cult.¡±


    Atropos¡¯s voice was calm but decisive. ¡°It is the Elsewhere Cult. For some rason, they want Reynard¡¯s son dead.¡±


    Klein¡¯s head tilted slightly, his white hair catching the room¡¯s light. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Tori¡¯s frown deepened, and her teeth clenched as she spoke. ¡°An urban legend,¡± she said with barely concealed irritation. ¡°They¡¯re rumored to be a shadowy organization that promises immortality to the wealthy through secret, likely unethical, means. If they exist, they fall under the jurisdiction of the World Order, not ours. Hunters are tasked with managing cryptids, rogue hunters who threaten the mundane world, and studying the phenomena beyond the World Wall. We don¡¯t handle conspiracy theories.¡±


    By ¡®managing¡¯ and ¡®studying¡¯, she meant hunting.


    Atropos¡¯s hands curled into fists beneath the table. Her brother wasn¡¯t chasing a conspiracy¡ªshe could feel it. There was something real and malevolent behind the Elsewhere Cult. But if the Association wouldn¡¯t officially recognize it, that meant Reynard was walking into a war completely on his own.


    Tori¡¯s eyes flashed with intensity. ¡°With his fight against Gerry Mansel, we have an opportunity to bring the Elsewhere Cult into the light. Thanks to whatever technique Reynard used, we have a full confession from Gerry on video. That kind of ability¡ªto dominate the mind and force truth¡ªit¡¯s rare. Reynard could be an excellent interrogator or spy under my staff.¡±


    Klein chuckled softly, his voice calm but laced with sarcasm. ¡°And the consequences of that revelation? Let¡¯s not forget the Mansel Household. If we expose Gerry¡¯s involvement with this cult, we¡¯ll be breaking the very promise we just made to Reynard to cover up Gerry¡¯s death. The Mansels would retaliate against both him and us. Hardly ideal.¡±


    Tori¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn¡¯t back down. ¡°If we forfeit the recording, our credibility takes a hit. Instead, we could spin the narrative¡ªframe the Elsewhere Cult as an existential threat that demands extermination. Reynard becomes a harmless pawn in the story. Alternatively,¡± she said with a slight shrug, ¡°we could go to extreme lengths and hide his existence altogether.¡±


    Bob leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. His tone was casual, but there was a weight to his words. ¡°That¡¯s unlikely. Transparency isn¡¯t just some buzzword. The demands placed on us by the old nobility mean we¡¯d be forced to investigate Reynard and ¡®hunt¡¯ him down if things escalate. Even if the Mansel Household learns about the Elsewhere Cult, their first priority would still be Reynard¡ªnot the cult. At this point, compromise is the only path forward, and we¡¯re limited to what Reynard wants.¡±


    Bob¡¯s gaze swept the room, his usually jovial demeanor giving way to something more somber. ¡°I know some of you want him in your departments. That¡¯s why you¡¯re so eager to handle this Elsewhere Cult situation. But let me remind you¡ªthe darkness of this world runs far deeper than most of you can perceive. Hidden organizations like the Elsewhere Cult? They¡¯re not as unique as you think. They¡¯re just one thread in a vast and dangerous tapestry. And we rarely get involved with them for a reason. That¡¯s the World Order¡¯s job.¡±


    Dr. Yamada snorted and tossed a pen onto the table, his tone flippant. ¡°The World Order. Now there¡¯s a joke. A secretive, loose organization that¡¯s supposedly on equal footing with us and the mundane government? The very idea of it is insane. What do they even do?¡±


    Bob let out a dry chuckle, though his eyes remained sharp. ¡°They do what they must. And so will we.¡±

 49 Plowing Through

    My next match was against a speedster¡ªone just a fraction faster than Gerry, but faster nonetheless. She was formidable, no doubt about it. Without my Soul Marionette, I would have been pulverized.


    The moment I saw her, a flicker of recognition crossed my mind. She was the same girl who outran 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. Now, she stood in front of me, ready to fight.


    She was a Fighter-type with an impressive speed attribute. Her attacks didn¡¯t just rely on agility; they were precise and powerful. Every blow she landed on my doll reverberated with strength that could have left me bruised and broken had it been me taking those hits.


    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. My Marionette, sturdy and resilient, countered where it could, though it wasn¡¯t nearly quick enough to keep up with her raw speed.


    It was a slugfest 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 managing to land a glancing counter. Back and forth, the cycle continued.


    Despite her overwhelming speed, my doll had two key advantages: its stamina and the subtle siphoning of her aura every time I commanded it. 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.


    In the end, her speed waned. Exhaustion crept into her movements¡ªimperceptible to most, but clear as day to me. My doll¡¯s counters began to land more frequently, its durability outlasting her fraying endurance.


    Finally, she crumpled under the weight of her own exertion, unable to keep up 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 much 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.


    The tournament had whittled down to just 32 participants now, each giving it their all to come out on top. Even with my doll¡¯s persistence, it took a while to make him backpedal. At first, he absorbed the hits like they were nothing, his aura robust and his physique absurdly tough.


    Initially, I pegged him as a Fighter. He had the physicality and resilience typical of one, but then he revealed his true nature. The first sign came when the damage he¡¯d taken seemed to shift into something else¡ªa sudden boost in power. That¡¯s when I realized he was a Dealer, his ability allowing him to accumulate damage and transform 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 I was at a stalemate¡ªhis healing and resilience were too much for my doll alone.


    But I refused to give in.


    The key was to leverage the synergy between me and my Soul 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 shifting of aura siphoned from him and distributed it to us. Combined with the unyielding resilience of my doll¡¯s strikes, he was forced onto the defensive.


    From there, it didn¡¯t take long. His overconfidence faltered, his movements slowed, and with one last 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 showed me just how crucial it was to adapt and exploit every edge my abilities could give me.


    The realization hit me as I prepared for my fourth match: so far, I¡¯d been cutting through my opponents with relative ease. Sure, they were challenging, but they were well within the range of my calculations. Every fight left little room for surprises, as if the odds had always been stacked slightly in my favor. That would change now.


    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. This round marked a turning point, where I¡¯d have to adjust, adapt, and face them head-on.


    Adding to the challenge, the matches from this point forward would be broadcasted¡ªon the dark net, the hunter net, and 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. A spectacle, a show, and, perhaps, a test of how hunters might handle the spotlight.


    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 slightly in mock disgust. ¡°He isn¡¯t my type, just saying. Anyway, who¡¯s your opponent?¡±


    I glanced at the tournament brackets reflected on the card I¡¯ve been provided. Unlike the earlier rounds, the pairings for the fourth match and forwards would allow the contestants foreknowledge of who they would be fighting.


    It was a 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 and considered it. ¡°It¡¯ll be tough, but I¡¯ve got my golden pass secured, so I¡¯m not stressing too much. The chairman said the top 16 would all get one, remember?¡±


    I nodded. The golden pass was an undeniable safety net, granting us privileges far beyond most hunters. But like Selena, I wasn¡¯t content with just a spot in the top 16.


    ¡°I still want to shoot for number one,¡± Selena added, her tone more determined. ¡°And word is, the top three will be getting 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 smirked at her confidence. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re as much of a gambler as ever.¡±


    ¡°Call it ambition,¡± she shot back with a wink.


    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, the figure of Geoffrey emerged¡ªhis ragged appearance as disheveled as ever. He looked every bit the vagrant he was, 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 activate my doll despite it not being here, but I couldn¡¯t. My body was locked in place, my limbs stiff as if bound by invisible chains. I quickly realized what was happening: an aura held me captive, an oppressive weight pressing against my entire body.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    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 Chairman 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 had always 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 didn¡¯t have the luxury of staking my life every time, nor the absurd faith he 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 Mark embedded itself before he even had a chance to react¡ªor so I thought. 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 Marks 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 Marks I¡¯ve 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.


    It was a brutal game of cat and mouse, with me dodging, him pursuing, and my doll trying to land a decisive blow. The fight dragged on, each moment heavier than the last. My stamina burned like fire, and the intensity only escalated with every passing second.


    For hours, we danced this deadly dance, neither of us willing to yield.


    I thought back to Geoffrey as I dodged another strike, narrowly avoiding the hand that sought to pin me down. The fight was brutal, but my thoughts drifted to the past¡ªspecifically, the version of Geoffrey I had created when writing Hunterworks. He was supposed to be a minor character, an "extra" who existed to serve as a one-time villain.


    Back then, his skills were strong but never fully showcased. He died far too quickly at the hands of the protagonist, meant only to highlight the hero¡¯s overwhelming power. But the truth was¡­ Geoffrey was an unfinished character. I had left his backstory vague, his motivations unclear, and most importantly, I had no real understanding of the full extent of his abilities.


    Now, as I faced him in the flesh, it was painfully clear just how incomplete my grasp of him had been.


    In this world, every Hunter''s special abilities were bound by a unifying theme known as their [Passion]¡ªan intrinsic drive or obsession that shaped and defined the scope of their power. For Geoffrey, I couldn¡¯t pinpoint what that Passion might be.


    Teleportation, afterimages, and an instantaneous counterattack that could magnify and return damage tenfold¡ªthese abilities felt disjointed on the surface, but there had to be a binding logic. Something must link them together, a core that unified his seemingly chaotic powers into a cohesive whole.


    As I deflected his next attack, forcing him to engage with my doll instead, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder: What is Geoffrey¡¯s Passion? What drives him to possess abilities that defy conventional strategy?


    The question gnawed at me, but I had no time for answers. His moves were relentless, his attacks designed to keep me guessing. Whatever his Passion was, it was dangerous.


    I took a moment to review what I knew about Geoffrey. He was a washed-up hunter, a man living on the fringes, saddled with debts but clinging to one redeeming piece of his life¡ªhis daughter. That fact alone 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? Before his life spiraled into its current state?


    He was a single father, which suggested the absence of his wife. That absence could mean one of two things: either she had left them, or she had died. If she left, it might have bred resentment in Geoffrey, or perhaps he was still a blind fool hopelessly in love, chasing after someone who had long since moved on. If she had died, he might have sought revenge¡ªor he could have made peace with her passing and focused on raising his daughter.


    There were too many permutations, too many paths his life could have taken. The possibilities buzzed in my mind, each one plausible but none definitive.


    I shook my head. It didn¡¯t matter. Was his [Passion] truly relevant to me at this moment? No. This wasn¡¯t a time for hypotheticals or trying to piece together the fragments of Geoffrey¡¯s story. The battlefield didn¡¯t care about his past, and neither could I.


    I reminded myself of what mattered: take things at surface level. Observe. Adapt. Transform.


    With a steadying breath, I activated the invisibility function of my cloak and melted into the shadows once again. My heartbeat slowed as I quieted my mind, retreating into the safety of obscurity. Geoffrey stood there, his frustration evident as he made an annoyed huff. His attention shifted entirely to my doll, his intent clear¡ªhe planned to obliterate it now that I¡¯d vanished.


    Good. Let him. I crouched in silence from a safe vantage point, watching, waiting, and preparing to strike. The game wasn¡¯t over yet.


    If this was a story told from my selfish perspective, I¡¯d undoubtedly cast myself as the protagonist and Geoffrey as the antagonist. It was simple, really¡ªa clash of roles where one had to rise, and the other had to fall.


    With that in mind, I focused on Geoffrey¡¯s movements, piecing together the patterns he¡¯d unknowingly revealed. His so-called teleportation? It wasn¡¯t merely a movement skill. It was strictly following the entire concpet of  a counterattack. The afterimages he left behind weren¡¯t part of some sophisticated technique¡ªthey were just artifacts of his incredible speed.


    I still didn¡¯t know what kind of [Passion] had given rise to his abilities, but the unifying theme was now clear: counters. His fighting style revolved entirely around reacting rather than acting, forcing his opponents to overcommit. His teleportation-like movement was simply an extension of that principle¡ªa mechanism to punish aggression.


    I smiled to myself. Understanding was power. This would be easier to deal with than I¡¯d first imagined.


    Dropping my invisibility, I stood in plain sight. My doll shifted into a defensive stance, chains glinting in its hands.


    ¡°Hey, Geoffrey,¡± I called out, my voice cutting through the tense air. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this!¡±


    Geoffrey ignored me at first, intent on my doll. I saw the faintest flicker of irritation cross his face as I whipped a Soul Chain from under my wrist, lashing it toward him with precision.


    He vanished before it connected, reappearing at my flank in a blur.


    ¡°What are you playing at, you fool?¡± he sneered, his aura-charged fist barreling toward me.


    But his attack never landed. Instead, he was wrenched sideways, his momentum abruptly arrested and redirected ninety degrees. He staggered mid-motion, his expression a mix of shock and confusion.


    The trick? A Vector Path I¡¯d hastily cobbled together, imbued with a Homing attribute. Spot A was the space around me, and Spot B was my doll. It wasn¡¯t elegant, and I doubted I¡¯d replicate it cleanly, but it worked.


    Geoffrey blurred in motion, trying to recover. My doll was ready. Its hands wrapped in shimmering chains, it lashed out with a brutal one-two¡ªa punishing blow to the kidney followed by a crushing strike to his face. Blood spattered across the rocky terrain, and Geoffrey staggered.


    He hadn¡¯t expected to be struck mid-counter. Dealer-types like us had strict rules governing our abilities, rules we couldn¡¯t bend without consequence. Geoffrey had gambled and lost.


    Chairman Bob¡¯s booming voice filled the air as Geoffrey collapsed to his knees, struggling to catch his breath.


    ¡°We have our first winner from the Final 16! Give a round of applause for Reynard Bright!¡±


    The mountain echoed with the sound of clapping and cheers, but I didn¡¯t bask in the glory. My mind was already moving ahead, analyzing, strategizing. There were more fights to come, and I couldn¡¯t afford to lose focus now.

 50 Fifth Match

    Selena¡¯s unexpected victory against Black left me intrigued. From what I¡¯d seen, Black wasn¡¯t one to back down easily, but this time, he¡¯d made his intentions clear. He had no interest in climbing the rankings further, satisfied with securing the golden pass. By forfeiting, he became the first to leave the tower. Say what you will about him¡ªBlack knew his priorities.


    As for me, I still had a long road ahead. Depending on whether I reached the finals, I¡¯d be fighting seven or eight matches in total. So far, I¡¯d already faced four opponents, each progressively more challenging. And now, for my fifth match, the brackets had pitted me against Shen¡ªthe so-called Spear God.


    That night, I meditated in preparation, trying to clear my mind and center my focus. At the same time, I tended to the doll, repairing the damage Geoffrey had inflicted. He¡¯d turned out to be far tougher than I¡¯d anticipated, and the wear on my doll was a testament to how grueling the battle had been. Without the Doll attribute, the repairs were slower and less efficient, but my Puppetry attribute sufficed for now. It would have to.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t ignore the looming reality. My usual strategy¡ªhiding under invisibility while the doll did the heavy lifting¡ªwouldn¡¯t work against Shen. Not anymore. My strategy had already been exposed, broadcasted for the whole world to see. Worse, Shen¡¯s martial prowess was leagues ahead of mine, and even the doll¡¯s. Trying to engage him head-on felt like suicide.


    But that begged the question¡ªhow could I win?


    I let my mind wander as I ran my hands over the doll¡¯s repaired joints and reinforced its chains. Attacking Shen directly was tempting, but I couldn¡¯t envision a scenario where I came out on top. I needed a new approach. Something unexpected.


    The doll¡¯s chains glinted under the faint light as I tested their tensile strength. Adapt, transform, overcome. That was the mantra I repeated to myself, over and over. Shen may have been the Spear God, but gods could still bleed.


    And I intended to prove it.


    I made the decision to leave my frilly invisibility cloak behind, handing it over to Selena. She¡¯d find better use for it than I ever could. There was no point holding onto it now; my strategies had already been exposed, and hiding wasn¡¯t going to cut it against Shen.


    For the rest of the night, I focused on refining my Homing attribute. It had been a strange skill from the beginning, and the more I used it, the more peculiar its quirks became. For one, it only worked on organics. You¡¯d think something named ¡°homing¡± would apply to inanimate objects, like missiles. But no¡ªhere, it meant something entirely different.


    Curiosity got the better of me, and I rummaged through the cabinet in my room until I found an old dictionary. As it turned out, ¡°homing¡± could also mean the natural instinct of animals to return to a place or territory after traveling far away. It was an odd revelation, but it made a certain kind of sense in this world.


    Here, words weren¡¯t just words¡ªthey carried profound weight and meaning, often shaping the very foundation of attributes and abilities. It was why this world operated on a unified language system. Even the simplest ¡®attribute¡¯ could manifest into the strongest ability if interpreted the right way.


    Morning arrived before I knew it. I started my day with bacon and eggs from the vending machine, washed down with some coffee. The meal was nothing special, but it was enough to fuel me.


    My loadout for the next fight was ready: Connection, Puppetry, and Homing.


    When the time came, I was engulfed by a flash of light and transported to the arena. This time, it was a forest¡ªdense, with towering trees that blocked most of the sunlight. Opposite me stood Shen, spear in hand, his posture poised like a coiled spring. His dark hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and his piercing eyes radiated a quiet intensity that felt like they could cut through stone.


    For once, my doll was teleported alongside me, though the aura trapping us both held firm. It was the same warning as before: no starting without the referee¡¯s go-ahead.


    A familiar glowing holographic figure appeared between us, the exaggerated bald head of Chairman 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?


    It was too fast¡­


    Shen¡¯s spear came within a hair¡¯s breadth of my neck. The sheer pressure of his aura wrapped around the blade sent 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. My body blurred, the world tilting 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 mark he had just destroyed beneath his foot. 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.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Shen struggled against the doll¡¯s chains, his spear still gripped tightly as he tried to regain control. 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: Abscond."


    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.


    There was a reason Shen bore the title of Spear God, a testament to his unmatched mastery. Even at his young age, his genius was legendary.


    Within the first millisecond, the Soul Chains binding his foot were obliterated, their shimmering links falling apart like brittle glass under his precise strike.


    In the next millisecond, he moved.


    His spear, enveloped in an aura of red and orange hues, swung with unparalleled grace, parrying my doll with what should have been impossible precision. The collision of our powers crackled through the air, the forest around us trembling under the sheer force of it.


    Despite the parry, the doll wasn¡¯t unscathed¡ªit tumbled behind him, an inert heap momentarily stripped of its menace. Shen''s stance wavered, his aura flickering unevenly as he struggled to maintain his footing.


    I couldn''t let this chance slip away.


    I activated the newly available Vector Path, using the Soul Mark I left behind as my anchor. My body blurred into motion, seamlessly traversing the path between me and my doll. Shen was perfectly positioned, his front was exposed, thanks to the too eahvy momentum he had to endure.


    With a burst of speed, my right foot connected squarely with his throat, the impact reverberating through both our bodies.


    But I wasn¡¯t done.


    I mentally commanded the doll, directing it to home in on me. It responded immediately, surging forward with mechanical precision. Its knee collided with Shen¡¯s back with a sickening crunch, the sound of splintering bones echoing in the tense air.


    Shen gasped, blood spurting from his mouth in wet, gurgling coughs. His eyes, wild and bloodshot, glared at me with a mix of fury and grudging respect.


    "Enough," he growled, his aura exploding outward in a desperate bid to reclaim the upper hand.


    I retreated just in time, tracing back the Vector Path to my original position. I leapt backwards in great distance as I homed back t the Soul Mark I left. The force of his aura blast sent the doll flying once more, its limp form crashing against a tree like a discarded marionette.


    Shen steadied himself, his breathing ragged, blood staining the corners of his lips. Despite his injuries, he remained defiant.


    ¡°Huff¡­ huff¡­ You¡¯ve proven yourself a terrible opponent, King of Favors¡­¡±


    His voice was strained, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. For all his arrogance, Shen was acknowledging me¡ªnot just as a rival but as an equal in this deadly match.


    There was yet another reason why Shen was called the Spear God.


    His special ability, fittingly named Spear God, epitomized his essence as a Fighter-type. It granted him exponential growth in strength, precision, and speed the longer he wielded a spear. And Shen had been wielding one since he was a mere toddler¡ªa truth so absurd it defied belief, yet his skill left no room for doubt.


    Now, Shen stood before me, entering a low, predatory stance with his spear outstretched. His aura shimmered and shifted, transforming into fiery hues of red and orange, streaked with a cold, unnerving blue.


    Shen¡¯s voice cut through the tension, sharp and resolute:


    ¡°It is my turn.¡±


    In an instant, his aura seemed to vanish, not because it was gone but because his speed had reached such a height that my perception could no longer keep up.


    He moved like a phantom.


    ¡°Heavenly Spear.¡±


    The name of his technique rang out, and time seemed to slow as the tip of his spear closed in on me. It was an attack too fast, too precise, too deadly to evade by ordinary means.


    But I wasn¡¯t unprepared.


    With a thought, I activated the Soul Chains I had sneakily attached to his weapon during our brief clash¡ªwhen my foot connected with his throat earlier. It had been the smallest window of opportunity, but it was enough.


    The chains materialized in a flash, coiling around the spear like a predator pouncing on its prey. Shen¡¯s movements faltered as the chains wound tighter, binding his hand, wrist, and elbow in an unrelenting grip.


    He staggered mid-attack, the unstoppable force momentarily arrested.


    I seized the opportunity and leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the lethal trajectory of his spear. Shen, unable to maintain his momentum, tumbled forward, his stance disrupted as the chains continued to constrict.


    My heart raced, my breaths coming shallow and quick. Even in his current state, Shen exuded an aura of danger, his presence like a storm barely held in check.


    But for now, I had gained the upper hand.


    I hadn¡¯t stopped training since I began my tests here. Every match, every maneuver, every strategy honed my edge. I accumulated my cards, sharpening them, stacking them in my favor. Loss was always a shadow in my mind¡ªa dread I carried like a second skin.


    But now, in this moment, that shadow had lifted.


    Was it arrogance born of newfound strength? Or the enlightenment that came with recognizing my own worth? I couldn¡¯t tell, but for the first time in my life, I felt like losing was no longer an option.


    Shen growled as he destroyed the remnants of my Soul Chain, the effort throwing his rhythm into disarray. He charged at me again, spear poised, his movements slightly slower and less precise than before. The chain had disrupted him and thrown off his tempo.


    I smirked, my voice calm and confident. ¡°Soul Castling.¡±


    In an instant, my vision flickered, and I was gone from where I stood. When I reappeared, my doll stood in my place, as if taking my role on the battlefield. This technique was a culmination of combining my Homing attribute with the principles of Soul Link and Soul Mark. The result? The ability to switch places with my doll at will.


    Of course, it wasn¡¯t without its limits¡ªusing Soul Link this way meant I could only manage one connection at a time. But the advantage it granted was well worth the constraints.


    Shen¡¯s spear thrust forward, only to meet the much faster reflexes of my doll. The spear missed its mark entirely.


    Meanwhile, I retreated deeper into the forest, taking cover in the dense foliage. This wasn¡¯t cowardice; this was strategy. I¡¯d observed Shen closely¡ªhis movements, his techniques, and the punishment he¡¯d endured in this fight. He was formidable, but no one was invincible.


    He had to be running on fumes by now.


    A war of attrition was my game, not his. This was my checkmate.


    The forest grew eerily silent, save for the rustle of leaves and the heavy, labored breathing of Shen. His aura, once a brilliant conflagration of red, orange, and blue, had dimmed significantly. His movements were sluggish, his once-precise strikes faltering. Each clash with my doll drained him further, each misstep sealing his fate.


    Shen staggered, his spear hanging loosely in his grip. My doll capitalized on the opening, its aura burning fiercely as it lunged forward. I had meticulously equalized Shen¡¯s aura with the doll¡¯s, ensuring it could penetrate his defenses.


    With one final strike, my doll¡¯s fist tore clean through Shen¡¯s chest, shattering the last of his resistance. Shen¡¯s eyes widened before his body slumped to the ground.


    Chairman Bob¡¯s voice thundered over the battlefield, the holographic image of his bald head reappearing with dramatic flair.


    Bob announced, ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, we have our victor! Reynard Bright advances to the semi-finals!¡±


    This was how I claimed victory in my fifth match, survived the Final 8, and secured my place in the semi-finals.

 51 That’s a Secret

    ¡°Ah~! Better time than any to chill¡­¡±


    I leaned back on my seat with a steaming cup of coffee in hand and focused on the screen before me. Selena¡¯s fight played out in real time, and I couldn¡¯t help but admire her fluid movements as she faced her opponent¡ªa Maker-type hunter with a flair for aerodynamic surfboards.


    Her opponent wielded a mechanized surfboard, a bizarre contraption that hovered in the air like a predatory bird. It was no ordinary board; it doubled as a weapon, its edges gleaming sharp enough to rival a broadsword. Each swing carved through the air, and the hunter glided effortlessly on it, maneuvering with the precision of a practiced rider.


    The camerawork was surprisingly impeccable, capturing every angle of the intense battle. The lens zoomed in on Selena as she darted across the battlefield, her expression a mask of focus and calm determination. Then it cut to her opponent, who flipped his board midair, using it as both shield and sword.


    I sipped my coffee, marveling at the smooth transitions and dramatic perspectives.


    Whoever the cameraman was, they certainly knew how to capture the spectacle. The angles, the timing, the way they highlighted every critical moment¡ªit was almost as if the fight itself were choreographed.


    I frowned slightly, my thoughts drifting. How are they doing this?


    I remembered my own fight with Shen. Throughout the battle, I hadn¡¯t sensed any eyes on me¡ªnot a single camera drone, no hidden operators, nothing. It was just me, my opponent, and the forest.


    Were the cameramen invisible? Or was there some advanced tech or technique in play? I shook my head, setting the thought aside for now.


    On-screen, Selena made her move, her speed and grace forcing her opponent onto the defensive.


    I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, letting my thoughts drift to my own techniques. If I were being honest with myself, they were far from polished¡ªchaotic, even. My moves lacked cohesion, and every victory felt like a scramble to piece together what worked at the moment.


    But now, with the Homing attribute, there was a spark of hope. It gave me the ability to chain moves together, to create a flow where once there was only disorder. Still, I was far from my ideal build.


    Not that I was treating this like a game¡ªat least, not intentionally¡ªbut the desire to complete myself burned deep. Mastery. Skill perfection. It was a path that stretched long ahead, riddled with challenges. But for the first time in a while, I believed I could walk it.


    The solution to my limited aura pool was becoming clearer too. Using my doll or other Maker artifacts as auxiliary batteries would let me sustain the fight when my reserves ran dry. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was a start.


    A familiar voice jolted me back to the broadcast.


    Selena¡¯s tone was laced with sharp confidence, ¡°Is that all you got, sleazebag?¡±


    I turned my attention back to the screen, watching her in action. She was moving with stunning precision, weaving in and out of her opponent¡¯s attacks as if she were teleporting. Her speed, combined with the invisibility from the cloak I¡¯d given her, created a series of afterimages that were almost ghostlike.


    The resemblance to Geoffrey¡¯s technique didn¡¯t escape me. Unlike him, though, Selena¡¯s mastery of aura control and sheer agility made her movements seamless. Where Geoffrey was reactive, she was pure, unrelenting offense.


    I couldn¡¯t help but admire her¡ªshe was making that cloak do things I hadn¡¯t even considered. It was impressive.


    And then, the thought hit me: If this is being broadcast¡­ Leora must be watching.


    A pang of unease settled in my chest. The idea of her seeing me fight, seeing the risks I¡¯d taken and the close calls I¡¯d barely survived, didn¡¯t sit well.


    I sighed. I¡¯d rather she didn¡¯t watch. I¡¯d hate to worry her.


    I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed, revealing a text 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 the Tower¡¯s protections weren¡¯t absolute.


    Another message followed:


    Anyway, 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 sank in, the pit of unease in my stomach growing.


    Leora continued:


    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. So petty.


    But the humor faded as guilt crept in. I left her on read, staring at the screen, unable to think of a response. How could I face her right now? She must¡¯ve been busy¡ªtoo busy to call, evidently.


    I clenched my fist, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I felt useless. Was it bravado that had brought me here in the first place? The promises I¡¯d made to Leora felt distant and fragile. I told her I¡¯d handle the hunting, that I¡¯d protect her and Leonard. Yet here I was, tangled in this damn exam while they were being hunted.


    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. At the last second, she managed to steal her opponent¡¯s surfboard using her miniaturization technique, a derivative of her disguise ability.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I scoffed, shaking my head. She could¡¯ve ended it much sooner if she¡¯d gone for a full salvo, but no¡ªshe was clearly eyeing that board for her arsenal.


    Her miniaturization technique always fascinated me. It wasn¡¯t just a feat of skill; it was damn near impossible to replicate. Even I couldn¡¯t manage it, no matter how much I tried to reverse-engineer her methods.


    I yawned, stretching out the stiffness in my shoulders before deciding I needed a break from my room.


    Heading out into the corridor, I glanced around, wondering where Selena might be. Time to find her.


    The open area felt alive with a strange energy, serving as a lobby of sorts. Hunters mingled freely, their competitive intensity replaced by casual banter. Tables and chairs occasionally sprouted from the floor, accommodating impromptu gatherings. The vending machines, ever-reliable, clicked and whirred as people grabbed drinks or meals.


    Some of the participants, already eliminated from the tournament, lingered in the space, laughing and chatting like they were on vacation. Chairman Bob¡¯s love for fanfare ensured this atmosphere. Nothing beats a live audience for entertainment value, after all.


    ¡°Yo~¡± Selena¡¯s voice rang out, and 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 still haunted me. No need to add fuel to Selena¡¯s teasing fire. Instead, I studied her more closely.


    There, tucked into her hair, was a tacky clip that stood out like a sore thumb.


    It took me a second to realize¡ªit wasn¡¯t just a hair accessory. It was the surfboard she¡¯d stolen from her opponent during her match. She¡¯d somehow miniaturized it, turning it into¡­ that.


    ¡°Nasty,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    Selena caught the direction of 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 soft, steady light, but it must¡¯ve been dark outside by now. Time felt strange in this place, suspended between battles and survival. Selena and I lined up at the vending machine, and with a few selections, our orders materialized in a symphony of quiet clicks and whirs.


    We found a spot in one corner, where the floor hummed and mechanical arms produced a table and chairs that seamlessly rose from the ground. This tower never ceased to amaze me.


    I glanced down at my meal: steaming rice, chicken stew, and a glass of pineapple juice that practically advertised its vitamin C content. Across from me, Selena poked at her plate of greens, grains, and tofu. Full vegan, which was a surprise.


    ¡°Who will you be fighting in the next match?¡± I asked, stirring my stew.


    Selena took a deliberate sip of her tea before answering. ¡°Some guy who calls himself Dummy¡­¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°How did that guy reach this far?¡±


    ¡°You know him?¡± she asked, pausing to spear a piece of lettuce with her fork.


    ¡°I saw him goofing around with Black on the airship,¡± I replied. ¡°They were playing chess. He¡¯s a trickster, has some kind of ¡®weakening¡¯ attribute.¡±


    Selena leaned back in her chair, mulling this over.


    My thoughts, however, started racing. Dummy? Among all the characters I¡¯d written, no face came to mind that matched him. My gut twisted with suspicion. Was he some hidden master in disguise? The idea felt almost absurd, too far-fetched even for this place.


    I pushed the thought aside, but it lingered like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch. Something about Dummy didn¡¯t add up.


    Selena raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing yet edged with curiosity. ¡°So, who¡¯s the chick?¡±


    I followed her gaze to the holographic jumbotron above us. The tournament bracket shimmered, and there it was¡ªmy face next to my next opponent¡¯s: Sarah Maldave.


    As if conjured by the mention of her name, Sarah appeared before us. She was petite, barely over five feet, with pale white skin that contrasted sharply against her dark hair and crimson eyes. Her outfit was equally striking¡ªa cropped top that left her shoulders and neck exposed, along with her midriff. She practically radiated confidence, her every movement deliberate and calculated.


    I scowled, my voice dripping with venom. ¡°It¡¯s the High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult, the damn organization that¡¯s been hunting my family like rabid dogs. Hey, Sarah, how¡¯s it feel being the Prophet¡¯s little lapdog?¡±


    Sarah smiled, unbothered by my provocation, her crimson eyes gleaming.


    Selena leaned closer, her voice a low warning. ¡°Oi, Rey¡­ is that smart? Playing ignorant might¡¯ve given us an advantage.¡±


    I shook my head, keeping my eyes on Sarah. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s a Reader-type. Mind-reader. I don¡¯t know the full extent of her abilities, but let¡¯s not kid ourselves¡ªshe¡¯s already in my head. Don¡¯t be fooled by her appearance, though. This is the High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult, and she¡¯s older than she looks.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s voice was silky, with an edge of mockery. ¡°My, my, such aggression. I wonder, how did you kill Naon? And still live?¡±


    I clenched my fists, trying not to let her see how much her words riled me. If they¡¯d sent Sarah, it meant they were taking me seriously¡ªa rare silver lining. The Cult must believe she could finish the job where others had failed. Still, this was the Fighting Tower. Unless they sent their Chief Warrior, they couldn¡¯t kill me outright. Unless, of course, Sarah was carrying something like the artifact Gerry used...


    I kept my tone steady. ¡°Naon? You¡¯re talking about the Prophet¡¯s right hand, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Sarah¡¯s smile widened, and she gave a slight nod. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    The desire to strike her down surged through me, but I held back. I couldn¡¯t kill her, not without the Association¡¯s probability-destroying dagger. And even with it, this wasn¡¯t the time or place.


    Sarah¡¯s voice took on a mockingly disappointed tone. ¡°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, a challenge cloaked in menace, but I smirked. ¡°Big talk. Let¡¯s see if you can back it up, High Priestess.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s smile faltered for a brief moment before her voice sharpened with more malice than before. ¡°Oh, I can back it up.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. ¡°What¡¯s your game? Why reveal yourself now?¡±


    Sarah¡¯s expression shifted to something almost... sincere, but I could tell it was all part of her act. ¡°My reasoning is quite pure, you know?¡±


    Selena scoffed. ¡°As if.¡±


    A soft chuckle escaped Sarah¡¯s lips, but it was tinged with something darker. ¡°Join the Cult. 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 will 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 eyes practically undressing her with the way she stared.


    Selena¡¯s patience snapped. ¡°This fucking bitch.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t about to let her rattle me, though. I tilted my head and smirked, deliberately pushing her buttons. ¡°Sarah, tell me, what am I thinking right now?¡±


    She squinted at me, clearly digging into my mind, the silence stretching. Finally, she spoke, her tone smug. ¡°That you want to kill me.¡±


    I shook my head with a smirk playing on my lips. ¡°Look deeper.¡±


    A flicker of confusion passed through Sarah¡¯s face before her expression hardened. She furrowed her brow, focusing more intently, but then something in her eyes flickered¡ªshe wasn¡¯t seeing what she expected. Her lips parted as her voice shook. ¡°W-what?¡±


    I felt the energy shift as Sarah¡¯s composure cracked, her gaze flickering, lips trembling. And then¡ªthere it was¡ªshe began to cry. A few soft sobs escaped her as her breath quickened, her hands trembling at her sides.


    ¡°Lies!¡± she yelled, her voice breaking as she staggered back, panic overtaking her expression. Her eyes were wide as if she had seen something horrifying.


    She turned and ran off, her movements frantic and erratic, as if half-mad, her steps uneven.


    Selena watched her go, her voice low but laced with disbelief. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    I let the silence hang for a moment before I gave a cryptic smile. ¡°That¡¯s a secret.¡±


    Selena scowled but didn¡¯t press any further, her confusion and frustration palpable. As Sarah disappeared into the distance, I leaned back slightly, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. This was just the beginning¡­ of my counterattack.


    Shaking ¡®her¡¯ resolve was just the first domino. "Maaa~an, am I lucky or am I glad that worked...?"

 52 Hero of Elsewhere

    Rest was always important, but priorities came first. My doll needed repairs, especially after the brutal fight against Shen. Without it functioning at its best, I¡¯d be walking into the next match half-prepared¡ªa mistake I couldn¡¯t afford to make.


    I turned to Selena for assistance. ¡°Can you introduce me to the surfboard guy?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Harper? What for?¡±


    ¡°I need his attribute,¡± I replied, my tone brisk.


    A few minutes later, I was face-to-face with Harper. He was a bald man with a distinctive barcode tattoo right on his forehead, giving him an oddly utilitarian vibe. He seemed cautious but curious, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me.


    ¡°So, we just need to shake hands? And then you¡¯ll consult me with some questions?¡± Harper asked, his voice skeptical but steady.


    I nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Harper shrugged, his expression relaxing. ¡°Sounds easy enough.¡±


    We shook hands, and I felt the faint hum of his attribute transferring over to me. Aerodynamics. It was subtle, but already, I could sense the potential.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, releasing his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work.¡±


    I led Harper to my room, where the tools and scraps I¡¯d collected for the doll repair were scattered across the floor and desk. He raised an eyebrow at the mess but didn¡¯t comment. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and dove right in.


    It wasn¡¯t long before my hands were smeared with grease, sweat beading on my forehead as I tinkered with the doll¡¯s internals. Harper scolded me at least three times for mishandling materials or overlooking basic principles of engineering.


    ¡°Careful with that joint! You¡¯re about to throw the whole balance off,¡± he muttered, grabbing the 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¡­ I am a talentless fool when it came to the Maker-state.


    Despite the reprimands, I was learning a lot. Harper had a knack for explaining things in simple terms, and with his attribute lending me insight, the pieces started coming together.


    Partway through the process, I discovered something remarkable: the vending machines connected to the World Path were more flexible than I¡¯d realized. They weren¡¯t limited to food or basic supplies; as long as I had the money, I could order virtually any material I needed.


    I tested it by ordering a specific alloy Harper recommended for the doll¡¯s frame. Moments later, a small, neatly packaged bar of the material appeared in the dispenser with a soft ping.


    ¡°Convenient,¡± Harper remarked, inspecting the alloy. ¡°That¡¯s good stuff. This tower really does have everything.¡±


    As we continued, Harper examined the doll with a critical eye. ¡°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. ¡°Figures. You and that lady¡ªwhat¡¯s her name? Selena?¡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 bunch, 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 tugging at his lips. ¡°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.¡±


    I nodded, a flicker of understanding passing between us. For all the chaos and competition in the tower, it was easy to forget that everyone here had lives and loved ones waiting outside.


    As we worked late into the night, that thought stayed with me. Repairing the doll was important, but so was surviving¡ªmaking it through this and returning to the people who mattered most.


    Harper sat beside me, answering my endless stream of questions about airflow, resistance, and energy efficiency. His scientific knowledge was surprisingly comprehensive, and I could see why he¡¯d made it this far in the tournament.


    ¡°Why are you so invested in this doll, anyway?¡± Harper asked as he leaned back, watching me tinker.


    I didn¡¯t look up from my work. ¡°The next match is going to be a tough one¡ªand important for me. This doll is more than just a tool; it¡¯s a part of my combat style. It needs to be perfect.¡±


    Harper chuckled. ¡°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. With Harper¡¯s input and the enhancements I made using his attribute, the doll felt lighter and more agile, and its movements were more fluid. I gave it a final test, controlling it with a burst of my aura. It darted across the room, weaving through obstacles like a falcon on the hunt.


    Satisfied, I set it down gently. ¡°Thanks, Harper. This might just make the difference.¡±


    Harper gave a lopsided grin. ¡°No problem. Just don¡¯t use it against me¡­ because that will suck.¡±


    Despite Harper¡¯s expertise, I couldn¡¯t add flight capabilities to my doll. It was disappointing but not unexpected. What I managed to do instead was improve its speed, which was just as crucial for the upcoming battles. Speed could make all the difference between victory and defeat.


    As we wrapped up our work, Harper leaned back and wiped his hands on a rag. ¡°So,¡± he said, ¡°you paying in cash or with a favor?¡±


    I tilted my head. ¡°What do you prefer?¡±


    He smirked. ¡°A favor. You seem like the type to keep your word.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ¡°What kind of favor are we talking about?¡±


    He shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Nothing specific right now. I¡¯ll cash it in when I need it.¡±


    I considered his words for a moment before nodding. My reputation for owing and repaying favors must have spread, and I didn¡¯t mind. Favors were as much about building connections as they were about settling debts. Sometimes, they could even prove more valuable than money.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said.


    After hours of intense work, I finally kicked Harper out of my room. ¡°Thanks for the help, but you¡¯re overstaying your welcome.¡±


    He chuckled on his way out. ¡°Good luck, man. Don¡¯t forget about that favor!¡±


    The room felt quieter without his presence, but I welcomed the solitude. Now that the doll was upgraded, I turned my attention to my next project: the coin.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The coin¡¯s design was simple but ambitious. It would serve as my battery, a reservoir for aura that could hold ten times what the doll could manage. Even better, the aura stored in it wouldn¡¯t dissipate easily, making it an invaluable asset in prolonged fights.


    I sat at my desk, focusing my aura and infusing it into the coin. A faint, shimmering glow spread across its surface as the aura sank in, layer by layer. Each infusion required precision and patience. If I rushed, the structure of the coin might weaken, and the stored energy could leak or become unstable.


    Hours passed, the air in the room thick with concentration and the faint hum of magic. I could feel the coin nearing completion. It hummed softly in my hand, an unassuming object brimming with potential.


    I held it up, admiring the craftsmanship and the aura thrumming beneath the surface. This would be my trump card¡ªmy lifeline in the fights to come.


    The artificial morning sun peeked through the windows as the semi-finals approached, the day heavy with anticipation. This match would be different. There would be no teleportation to exotic arenas or elaborate environments. Instead, an elevated platform had been raised in the heart of the open area, where hunters usually mingled or announcements were made. The simplicity of the setting only heightened the tension¡ªit was raw, exposed, and all eyes were on us.


    Chairman Bob, ever the eccentric, took his place as referee. His bald head gleamed under the overhead lights, his red cape as garish as ever. This time, however, he had swapped his usual trousers for a pair of shorts. The sight was almost enough to break the somber mood of the occasion, but I remained focused.


    I stepped onto the platform, my shoes clicking against the metal floor. The air around me hummed with the quiet murmur of the gathered audience, a mix of spectators and hunters who had either advanced or been eliminated.


    I waited.


    The silence stretched. I glanced toward the entrance, half-expecting Sarah Maldave to emerge with her smug smile and deadly presence. But no one appeared.


    Then came the announcement.


    Chairman Bob raised his hand, his voice echoing across the open area. ¡°Since Sarah Maldave has left the venue and forfeited the match, the victor of this semi-final is Reynard Bright!¡±


    A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd, their whispers carrying a mix of confusion, disappointment, and speculation.


    ¡°Did she really forfeit?¡±


    ¡°Why would she leave? She¡¯s a semi-finalist, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Maybe Reynard scared her off?¡±


    I stood still, letting their chatter wash over me. My gaze swept the crowd briefly before returning to Chairman Bob, who was already preparing for the next match announcement.


    As I stepped off the arena, the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Selena stood nearby, her arms crossed, her posture casual but her eyes sharp as ever. I moved closer, taking hold of her arm to ensure what I said next was for her ears only.


    I whispered, "I suspect ¡®Dummy¡¯ to be a member of the Elsewhere Cult. Be careful. He can disrupt probabilities, nullify auras, and bypass the Tower¡¯s protection."


    Her eyes narrowed, and the easy smirk she usually wore flattened into a grim line. "That¡¯s a hell of a suspicion. What tipped you off?"


    I answered plainly, ¡°Just trust me on this one¡­¡±


    The thoughts that had been gnawing at me all came together in a single and clear realization. Sarah¡¯s absence. The ¡®thing¡¯ I showed her shook her faith, and there¡¯s one person in the cult who wouldn¡¯t let that stand. In the novel, he always wore a mask and held multiple titles: Head Inquisitor, Chief Warrior, True Fanatic, Chosen One... but most notably, he¡¯s called the Hero. The Elsewhere Cult¡¯s leadership was a trinity¡ªthe Saint, the Prophet, and the Hero.


    If the ¡®Hero¡¯ was here, it would explain everything.


    Selena let out a slow breath, her gaze scanning the mingling crowd as if she might spot him. ¡°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. "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, a contemplative glint in her eye. "So, what¡¯s the play? Do you want me to keep him off you? Or..." She grinned, 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."


    I leaned in close, keeping my voice low, my eyes scanning the crowd. ¡°You can¡­ kill him.¡±


    Selena raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a skeptical smirk. ¡°How? Come on, the chairman is staring at us¡­ He might disqualify me, you know? Speak faster.¡±


    My gaze flicked briefly to Chairman Bob, who was indeed watching us with a knowing grin, as if he were privy to our little conspiracy. I ignored him, focusing on Selena. ¡°The Elsewhere Hero¡¯s attributes would work against him. Because of the nature of his powers and techniques, the protection of the Tower doesn¡¯t apply to him. If you go for the kill, he¡¯ll die for real. No revival. Even his injuries won¡¯t heal under the Tower¡¯s safeguards. However, that will only work if he is also going for the kill. For all we knew, he might fight just with basic aura techniques.¡±


    Her smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp glint in her eyes. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°I suggest you play it safe,¡± I said carefully. ¡°No need to provoke him and risk death. Inflict as much damage as you can, wear him down. If it looks too risky, leave him to me. I¡¯ll handle the fallout¡ª¡±


    Selena cut me off with a snort. ¡°Dream on. I¡¯m not giving this bastard the chance to make a second move. If I have the opportunity, I¡¯m ending him.¡±


    Before I could respond, she leaped to the arena with a graceful bound, landing in a crouch that seemed to dare the Hero¡ªDummy¡ªto approach.


    The murmurs of the crowd swelled as she stood tall, her cloak catching the light and billowing faintly behind her. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dummy step forward, his figure unassuming but carrying an air of unsettling confidence.


    Selena didn¡¯t wait for an announcement or signal. Her aura flared around her. The fight had already begun in her mind. And if I knew Selena, she would stop at nothing to finish what she started.


    All I could do now was watch¡ªand trust her.


    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t believe in her¡ªit was impossible not to¡ªbut I knew the odds. This version of Selena, as skilled and determined as she was, had not yet reached the peak of her abilities. And Dummy... no, the Elsewhere Hero. He wasn¡¯t just strong; he was the embodiment of half the military might of the Elsewhere Cult. Facing him wasn¡¯t just a fight¡ªit was an uphill battle against a storm.


    Bob''s voice boomed, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd like a blade. ¡°On my left side is Selena Fair, who possesses strange techniques unlike any ever seen! And on my right side is the mysterious Dummy, who has never suffered a single injury throughout his matches! A fight between the bizarre and the enigmatic!¡±


    The crowd roared. My stomach twisted.


    Bob added, "Just to remind you... if you are out of bounds of the arena, it will be declared as your loss."


    Dummy¡ªno, Hero¡ªstood calmly, exuding an aura of unshakable confidence. He wore a brown leather jacket over a plain shirt, paired with ripped jeans that gave him an unassuming appearance. His messy brown hair framed an almost carefree expression. But there was nothing careless about the way he moved as he slipped a pair of brass knuckles onto his hands, his footwork light and deliberate.


    ¡°Fight!¡± Bob¡¯s declaration rang through the arena.


    Selena wasted no time. Her invisibility cloak shimmered before rendering her unseen, and the stage erupted in chaos. The afterimages of Selena flitted across the platform, each armed with devastating weapons: submachine guns, rifles, grenades, and even an RPG. Explosions rocked the stage, tearing up the ground in a display that had the crowd on their feet, cheering wildly.


    But then, amidst the noise, a low, condescending laugh rose.


    The dust settled just enough to reveal a chilling sight. Dummy stood at the center of the chaos, untouched, his smirk as sharp as a dagger. Selena, visible once again, was caught mid-motion, her attack interrupted. Dummy¡¯s fist drove mercilessly into her abdomen with the force of a sledgehammer.


    Selena crumpled to her knees, her face contorted in pain as she gasped for air.


    Bob stepped forward, his tone solemn. ¡°Knockout! The winner is Dummy!¡±


    The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps.


    But then¡­


    The thunderous bang echoed through the arena, silencing the crowd instantly.


    Dummy¡¯s body dropped to the floor, lifeless, as his head erupted in a spray of gore. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel of a shotgun, its wielder standing tall and unscathed: Selena.


    The illusion she had crafted¡ªa flawless simulation of her being knocked out¡ªdissolved into nothingness.


    Selena blew the remaining smoke from the shotgun¡¯s muzzle with an air of casual defiance. ¡°Take that back, Bob.¡±


    Chairman Bob, who had been halfway through his declaration of Dummy¡¯s victory, froze mid-sentence. His face turned sheepish as he scratched the back of his head. ¡°Oh my, I am ashamed... It looks like I need remedial lessons on my Seeker State techniques.¡±


    Selena raised an eyebrow. ¡°Declare my victory.¡±


    But Bob¡¯s tone shifted, carrying a knowing weight. ¡°Unfortunately, my Seeker techniques weren¡¯t that terrible.¡±


    The murmurs from the crowd escalated into shocked gasps as the seemingly lifeless body of Dummy began to move. The headless figure pushed itself upright, standing with an eerie grace. It stretched as if it were merely waking from a nap, and then, impossibly, the missing head began to regenerate. Bone, sinew, and flesh reconstructed themselves in moments until Dummy stood whole once again, his smirk firmly intact.


    I felt a chill creep down my spine. Back when this was only a novel, I had dealt with him quickly by exiling him to the [End of the World]. But here? He had survived a point-blank shotgun blast to the skull. What the hell?


    Dummy cracked his neck, the nonchalance in his voice setting me on edge. ¡°That was a cheap shot, you know?¡± He rolled his shoulders as if loosening up. ¡°So... wanna go another round?¡±


    Selena¡¯s grip tightened on her shotgun. I could see the frustration on her face, but beneath it, there was also resolve.


    This fight wasn¡¯t over, and now we knew: this wasn¡¯t going to be a battle of strength alone¡ªit was going to take something far more cunning to bring him down.

 53 The Bodyguard

    Selena Fair had been through her fair share of battles. As an unofficial hunter, she¡¯d donned countless roles: bodyguard, thief, spy. Her abilities were sharp, honed by years of experience. Yet, in the grand hierarchy of strength, she understood her limits. Among the juggernauts¡ªthe titans who could single-handedly turn the tide of a battlefield¡ªshe was but a shadow¡­ of what she could have been.


    Chairman Bob was a juggernaut. The Association¡¯s top hunters likely grazed that echelon, and even Leora, in her refined grace, could stand among them. Reynard, too, yearned for that unreachable power.


    And Dummy? Selena didn¡¯t need Reynard¡¯s warnings to see that this man¡ªor whatever he was¡ªbelonged to that realm. After all, not everyone could casually regenerate a head.


    Dummy smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. ¡°So, are we gonna stare at each other, or are we gonna throw hands?¡±


    Selena narrowed her eyes and vanished into thin air, activating her invisibility cloak. Yet, before she could reposition herself, Dummy was already there¡ªmoving with impossible precision. His outstretched fist stopped just inches from her face as if taunting her with how easily he¡¯d found her.


    Her cloak flickered, revealing her stunned expression.


    Dummy¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh, did I forget to mention? Your little tricks don¡¯t work on me.¡±


    Selena¡¯s mind raced. Reynard¡¯s suspicions were proving true¡ªDummy¡¯s nullification wasn¡¯t just limited to abilities; it extended to artifacts as well¡­ or anything with ¡®aura¡¯ as of that matter. The playing field was even more uneven than she¡¯d feared.


    But Selena wasn¡¯t the type to give up easily. She slid back, barely avoiding his punch, and reached for the other tools in her arsenal.


    Fine, she thought, her determination hardening. If tricks won¡¯t work, then let¡¯s see how you handle the unexpected. But for her to counterattack, she¡¯d need space¡­ Dummy was sticking to her space like a corn stuck in her teeth.


    Selena¡¯s instincts screamed as Dummy¡¯s jab darted toward her like a bullet. She shifted back just in time, the air where she¡¯d stood moments before snapping from the force of his strike.


    Dummy didn¡¯t relent. His movements were like a predator¡¯s¡ªsmooth, relentless, and horrifyingly efficient. He surged forward with a straight punch aimed at her core. Selena twisted to the side, feeling the gust of displaced air graze her ribs.


    But Dummy was already closing the gap. He accelerated again, his knee rising with devastating speed and precision.


    Selena barely managed to block, her arms crossing over to shield her midsection.


    The impact was brutal. It was a shockwave of pain rippling through her body. She staggered, her arms trembling as her bones screamed in protest.


    Selena¡¯s mind worked rapidly, piecing together the puzzle Dummy represented. The Tower¡¯s simulation felt too perfect¡ªdeath was inflicted, yet the victim was saved the instant it happened. It defied her understanding of the Tower¡¯s technology, making Dummy¡¯s abilities even more daunting. To the Tower, death was merely an inconvenience¡­ but to Dummy, he could make it into a reality.


    How does his ability interact with the Tower¡¯s mechanics? she wondered, her mind probing for answers.


    Her first strategy¡ªoverwhelming him with a relentless barrage¡ªhad failed spectacularly. She couldn¡¯t afford to waste more energy without understanding the rules he played by. If surprise didn¡¯t work, then I¡¯ll have to outthink him.


    Dummy suddenly shifted, decelerating with eerie control. His stance changed fluidly, and then¡ªhe vanished.


    Super speed? No... It¡¯s something else.


    Selena¡¯s instincts screamed again. She raised both arms just in time, bracing for impact.


    Thud!


    A sharp kick slammed into her left arm, jarring her entire body. The force reverberated through her bones, and the blow had been aimed at her temple. If she hadn¡¯t raised her defenses in time, she¡¯d already be unconscious¡ªor worse.


    He¡¯s testing me, she realized, her arms aching. Dummy¡¯s attacks weren¡¯t just powerful¡ªthey were surgical. His movements carried precision, as if he was calculating her limits, waiting for her to slip.


    Selena gritted her teeth. Then I¡¯ll give him something to calculate.


    Unfortunately, Selena¡¯s disadvantageous position continued to worsen.


    Dummy blurred forward, his fists glowing faintly with aura as he launched a swift one-two jab. Each strike carried precision and ferocity, aimed at breaking through Selena¡¯s defenses.


    Selena stepped back instinctively, trying to use her footwork to create an afterimage¡ªa tactic she¡¯d honed over years of training. But this time, her body didn¡¯t respond the way it should. The attempt failed, leaving her vulnerable. Gritting her teeth, she raised her battered arms, summoning a shield.


    Her wristwatch whirred faintly, releasing one of her sealed tools: a compact, high-density energy shield that expanded into place just in time to intercept Dummy¡¯s next flurry of attacks. The aura-infused fists hammered against the barrier with relentless force, each strike reverberating through Selena¡¯s arms and shoulders.


    Energy-based artifacts that could be fueled directly with another person¡¯s aura were rare, but not impossible. Yet Dumm had proven himself to be more than the shield could handle.


    It wasn¡¯t just the sheer strength of his blows that troubled her. There was something off¡ªher reactions felt sluggish, her movements heavier. Dummy wasn¡¯t using super speed; she realized that much. Instead, she was getting slower.


    Reynard¡¯s earlier words echoed in her mind: "Dummy has a weakness attribute."


    Selena gritted her teeth. It wasn¡¯t just physical exhaustion. His aura, his strikes¡ªthey were distorting her perception, making her feel like her strength was draining away, like she was losing control of her own body. The illusion was insidious, and it was working.


    Dummy smirked, his voice dripping with condescension as he pressed the attack. ¡°You must be thinking¡­ ¡®this is bad, I didn¡¯t manage to finish him as fast as possible¡­ and now he¡¯s gaining the upper hand.¡¯¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    His words stung, not because they were far from the truth, but because they were too close. Selena adjusted her grip on the shield, steeling her resolve. No¡­ this isn¡¯t over.


    She glared at Dummy through narrowed eyes, her mind racing. If this is all an illusion, I just need to remember¡­ it¡¯s not real.


    But it was real¡­


    Selena gritted her teeth as she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow of Dummy¡¯s axe-kick. The strike created a blinding arc of energy, sending shockwaves through the platform and leaving a small crater in its wake. Her shield, now bent and sparking from Dummy¡¯s relentless assault, clattered to the ground beside her¡ªa useless heap of metal.


    Time was her enemy.


    She pushed herself up, breathing hard, her mind racing. Dummy¡¯s abilities weren¡¯t just about disorienting her; they were a direct threat to her survival. The Tower¡¯s protections couldn¡¯t be trusted to shield her if Dummy¡¯s anti-Tower measures came into play.


    More importantly, if Dummy won, Reynard would face him next. Selena had no doubt that the Elsewhere Cult planned to turn that fight into an assassination. The stakes weren¡¯t just her life¡ªthey were Reynard¡¯s. Winning wasn¡¯t just a matter of pride; it was a necessity.


    Could the Association help? The thought was fleeting, dismissed almost as soon as it surfaced. Reynard¡¯s words haunted her¡ªhow he¡¯d narrowly avoided assassination during one of his own matches and had to kill the offending hunter in self-defense. The Association¡¯s response had been tepid, almost indifferent.


    Selena clenched her fists. This was a place where power ruled, where the strong thrived and the weak were trampled underfoot. Asking for help was pointless. The only option was to win¡ªquickly, decisively, before Dummy could turn the match into something far deadlier.


    Dummy chuckled, his aura flaring around him in a dangerous glow. ¡°You¡¯re slipping, Fair. What¡¯s the matter? Feeling the weight yet?¡±


    Selena kept her distance as best she could, dual-wielding a pair of uzis and unleashing a hail of bullets. The rapid spray of gunfire lit up the arena, but Dummy seemed unbothered. He weaved through the storm with effortless grace, dodging the projectiles as though he were dancing.


    Then, as if to mock her efforts, he began parrying the bullets with his brass knuckles, deflecting them with sharp, deliberate movements.


    ¡°Surely, you can do better than that,¡± Dummy said, his voice dripping with condescension.


    Selena gritted her teeth, the frustration mounting in her chest. This wasn¡¯t working. No matter what she tried, Dummy was always one step ahead, and the gap in their abilities was becoming painfully clear. She hated admitting it, but the likelihood of her winning was slipping further away with each passing second.


    But then, a thought struck her¡ªa grim silver lining in the chaos.


    Dummy wouldn¡¯t kill her outright. Not here. Not now.


    Selena could see it in his movements, in his calculated restraint. While Dummy might¡¯ve had the means to end her, doing so openly would draw too much attention. Reynard had mentioned that Dummy¡¯s goal was assassination, but such a blatant display would undoubtedly spook both Reynard and the chairman.


    He wants to win without suspicion, Selena realized.


    That gave her a small window of opportunity. If Dummy wasn¡¯t going to go all-out, she could use that hesitation against him.


    But how?


    Selena¡¯s mind raced as she fired another volley, forcing Dummy to sidestep again. The only way to truly protect Reynard was to ensure Dummy couldn¡¯t advance to the finals. That meant killing or severely injuring him.


    And that was the real problem.


    Dummy¡¯s nullification ability made him almost untouchable, but it had to have limits. From what Reynard had told her, it worked by distorting probabilities, erasing auras, and bypassing protections. If Selena wanted to break through it, she¡¯d have to strike at the exact moment when Dummy was using his ability.


    Otherwise, the Tower would simply resurrect or heal him, rendering all her efforts meaningless.


    Her grip on the uzis tightened as she circled Dummy, her mind churning through possibilities. I only have one shot at this, she thought. If I can¡¯t catch him at the right moment, Reynard¡¯s as good as dead.


    It was a good mentality for a bodyguard in her situation.


    Dummy¡¯s form blurred as he accelerated again, a razor-sharp arc of energy trailing behind his knife-hand. The precision of his movement was deadly, every step measured, every strike deliberate.


    Selena didn¡¯t flinch. She summoned a blade of her own, the shimmering sword materializing in her grip just in time to intercept the incoming attack. Metal clashed against raw energy, and a shower of sparks illuminated the battlefield as Selena fluidly deflected the arc with a well-timed parry.


    Her mind worked quickly as her sword met Dummy¡¯s relentless blows. The energy arcs weren¡¯t some supernatural ability, she realized. They were pure aura technique.


    Selena narrowed her eyes, the gears in her head turning as she analyzed his movements. So that¡¯s how it is¡­


    Aura techniques were a testament to mastery¡ªcontrol over the corona of one¡¯s aura, refined through years of dedication. They weren¡¯t flashy or otherworldly; they were honed skills, sharpened to perfection through practice. This was different from abilities, which functioned more like inherent powers or specific tools designed for combat.


    Most Fighter-types developed a single ability to rely on, but their real strength came from the refinement of their techniques, the art of fighting itself. In contrast, Trickster-types, like Selena herself, often built a vast arsenal of abilities but tended to neglect their techniques.


    Dummy wasn¡¯t just a master of his aura. He was leagues ahead in raw technique, something Selena had never faced before.


    Sparks erupted as her sword clashed against Dummy¡¯s fists, again and again. Each impact was precise, calculated, and unforgiving. For every move Selena made, Dummy had an answer, his strikes coming faster and harder with each exchange.


    Her muscles ached as the force of his blows reverberated through her arms. This wasn¡¯t just a fight anymore¡ªit was a battle of refinement versus ingenuity, of raw technique against adaptability.


    Selena tightened her grip on her blade, gritting her teeth against the mounting pressure. If I can¡¯t match his technique, I¡¯ll have to outthink him.


    The sparks continued to fly, lighting up the arena in a dazzling display of skill and power.


    Selena''s sword shattered with a sharp, metallic clang, the fragments scattering across the arena floor. Her arms felt like lead, and her movements were becoming increasingly sluggish. Each step felt heavier, her body betraying her. Sweat dripped from her brow as she willed herself to summon another weapon, but no matter how hard she tried, her ability refused to respond.


    Panic set in. She realized with a jolt¡ªDummy had somehow sealed her ability.


    With no other option, Selena raised her battered arms, the bones already protesting with sharp, fiery pain, and braced herself. Dummy¡¯s fist came crashing down on her guard like a battering ram, and the force sent her flying.


    She felt the wind rush past her as her body soared through the air, completely out of control. Her vision blurred until strong hands caught her mid-flight, steadying her just before she could crash to the ground.


    Her breathing was ragged, and her head spun. The roar of the crowd seemed distant, drowned out by her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.


    Bob¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and decisive. ¡°Out of bounds! Victory goes to Dummy!¡±


    Selena¡¯s lips curled into a bitter snarl as she croaked, ¡°Fuck.¡±


    She tried to shrug off the hands holding her, but Reynard¡¯s grip remained firm.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough,¡± he said, his tone calm but carrying a weight that demanded her attention.


    Selena felt a soft, warm glow envelop her as the Tower¡¯s restoration magic began to take effect. Her breath steadied, the pain in her arms fading as the glow mended her broken body.


    She glared at Reynard, yanking herself free from his grip with renewed vigor. ¡°I don¡¯t need your consolation,¡± she snapped. Her voice was sharp but cracked slightly under the weight of exhaustion. ¡°If you die, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯ll face Leora, so you better not die.¡±


    Reynard¡¯s expression softened, but his resolve was unshaken. ¡°Believe me,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough. I understand now.¡±


    Selena frowned, puzzled but too drained to question further.


    Reynard met her eyes, 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.¡±


    Selena¡¯s expression shifted, the fire in her eyes dimming ever so slightly as fatigue overtook her. With a nod, she turned and limped toward the sidelines, her retreat marked by a weary but determined glare aimed squarely at Dummy.


    The next fight would be Reynard¡¯s, and she could only hope he was right.

 54 My Counterattack

    I gestured toward Chairman Bob as I leaped onto the stage, feeling the eyes of the crowd on me. This time, I didn¡¯t bring my doll. I wanted to face Dummy on my very specific terms.


    ¡°Before we start,¡± I began, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the audience, ¡°let me say a few things.¡±


    Bob raised a brow, clearly intrigued. ¡°Okay,¡± he replied, his tone inviting me to continue.


    ¡°This is a live broadcast, correct?¡± I asked, unaware of where the invisible cameras were positioned.


    Bob nodded, confirming, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I want to look at the camera,¡± I said plainly. ¡°I have an announcement to make.¡±


    Bob pressed two fingers to his temple, likely communicating with someone behind the scenes. After a moment, he lowered his hand, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± I said with a small smirk, ¡°we could use a little drama, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Bob sighed but gave me the go-ahead, waving a hand in mock surrender. ¡°Go on, feel free to speak. You¡¯ve got our viewers¡¯ full attention.¡±


    I turned to face ¡®Dummy¡¯ and let the invisible cameraman do the work. This wasn¡¯t just about the fight anymore¡ªit was about sending a message.


    ¡°My name is Reynard Bright,¡± I began, my voice steady and resonant. ¡°While I value my anonymity, I¡¯m aware that in the Hunter World, anonymity is something that can¡¯t be protected forever. So, I¡¯ve decided to come clean.¡±


    I took a deliberate pause, letting the gravity of my words sink in.


    ¡°Two years ago, my family was attacked by the Oval Mercenary Group. They were slaughtered¡ªby my wife¡ªas a consequence of their actions. But the ones who hired them¡­ that¡¯s another story. Behind them is a group known as the Elsewhere Cult¡ªjust one of the many hidden factions in the Hunter World, but one of the most dangerous.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the crowd as I gestured flamboyantly toward my opponent.


    ¡°My opponent here, going by the alias ¡®Dummy,¡¯ is a member of the Elsewhere Cult. His real name is Karl Arman. He was once a member of the old nobility. Do your research, and you¡¯ll find the truth: the man standing in front of me is over a hundred years old.¡±


    Unlike the ¡®Prophet¡¯, the ¡®Hero¡¯ was someone I already knew their identity with his face as the exception. I adjusted my tie, a theatrical gesture to mask the rising tension in my chest, and pressed on.


    ¡°The Elsewhere Cult is an organization with one goal: summoning their ¡®God¡¯ or ¡®Gods¡¯ into this world. In simpler terms, cryptids¡ªthe very things we Hunters dedicate our lives to eliminating¡ªare their idols. They¡¯d bring those monstrosities here in the name of devotion, no matter the cost.¡±


    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± Dummy¡ªno, Karl¡ªbellowed, his voice cutting through my speech like a blade.


    For the first time, the smug smile that had adorned his face was gone. The uninterested, aloof expression he¡¯d worn like a mask while playing chess with Black had shattered.


    Good. That¡¯s exactly what I wanted.


    ¡°There¡¯s more you should know,¡± I continued, letting my voice rise just enough to drown out the murmurs of the crowd. ¡°Their cult promises immortality to its members through human sacrifice. They¡¯ve amassed a stockpile of esoteric and dangerous techniques. And their history runs so deep, that it might even predate the Association itself. But here¡¯s the thing¡ªthey¡¯re rotting from the inside. Years of degradation, fueled by their blind fanaticism, have turned them into nothing more than a nest of religious bigots.¡±


    Karl¡¯s aura flared violently, and I saw the telltale signs of his patience snapping. A split second later, he exploded forward, his fist shrouded in energy. The punch slammed into my chest, a devastating blow that should¡¯ve sent me flying.


    It didn¡¯t.


    I remained rooted, unfazed by the impact.


    ¡°Was that it?¡± I asked, brushing nonexistent dust off my shoulder. ¡°Let me show you how that should have felt.¡±


    Karl¡¯s smirk faltered as I clenched my fist.


    What was my current load-out? Only three slots. I¡¯d temporarily shut down my Puppetry attribute, leaving me with Connection, Homing, and Counter. The last one¡ªCounter¡ªwas something I¡¯d borrowed from Geoffrey in a shady, under-the-table deal. Risky, but worth every ounce of trouble it took to secure.


    ¡°Ten-fold Counter,¡± I said, my voice low but carrying the weight of an executioner¡¯s verdict.


    I replicated his punch perfectly, down to every minute detail, except now it carried ten times the force. Thanks to Homing, my fist veered with uncanny precision toward its target, and with Connection, I ensured every ounce of energy was transmitted directly to him.


    My strike landed true, and the sound of my fist meeting flesh was like a thunderclap. My knuckles tore through his chest, the resistance meaningless against the overwhelming force.


    I grabbed his heart, feeling its desperate beat against my palm, and yanked it free in a single, fluid motion.


    Karl staggered backward, clutching at his chest where a gaping hole now resided.


    The crowd fell silent, their shock palpable, as I stared at the bloody organ in my hand.


    ¡°You wanted drama?¡± I said, tossing his heart aside with casual disdain. ¡°You¡¯ve got it.¡±


    Karl¡¯s voice was guttural, filled with rage. ¡°I will kill you.¡±


    Before my eyes, the wound I had inflicted began to close. His flesh knitted itself back together in seconds, the only evidence of my attack being the bloody mess staining his clothes and the heart still in my hand.


    He stood tall, unbothered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. ¡°Start the match, Bob,¡± he demanded.


    Bob scowled from his platform, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t be too familiar with me, old man,¡± he muttered. Then, with a bored wave of his hand, he added, ¡°Well, let the match begin!¡±


    The moment the words left Bob¡¯s lips, Karl vanished. His speed was inhuman, almost imperceptible, as he appeared in front of me, his fist cocked back for another blow.


    But I was prepared.


    As his attack descended, the ground beneath him erupted with glowing ethereal chains. They twisted and writhed like living creatures, ensnaring his limbs mid-strike.


    Soul Chains.


    I smirked, my voice laced with mockery. ¡°Did you think I¡¯d walk into this match without a plan? The finals and semi-finals were always going to be held here. I¡¯ve had plenty of time to prepare.¡±


    The chains tightened, their spectral light flaring brightly as they attempted to bind Karl¡¯s essence.


    For a moment, I thought I¡¯d sealed the deal.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    But the air around him shimmered unnaturally. The Soul Chains flickered, losing their form as if dissolving into nothingness.


    ¡°What?¡± My smirk faded.


    Karl stepped forward, completely unhindered, a smug smile creeping back onto his face. ¡°You thought you¡¯d trap me with something so¡­ fragile?¡±


    He flexed his aura, the oppressive energy pressing down like a weight on my chest.


    Karl¡¯s hand clamped around my throat like a vice, lifting me effortlessly off the ground.


    ¡°I will make your death painful,¡± he snarled, his voice venomous, his grip tightening until I could feel the blood pounding in my temples.


    He sneered, leaning closer. ¡°You should have brought your toy puppet with you.¡±


    I could only manage a choked laugh. ¡°Funny you should mention that¡­¡±


    With a mental command, I equipped my Puppetry attribute.


    No, I hadn¡¯t brought my doll visibly into this match. That was part of the plan.


    Just beneath Karl, the ground shifted. A pair of mannequin-like hands shot out, gripping his legs with an unyielding force.


    Karl¡¯s eyes widened in shock as the arms yanked him downward. His feet began to sink into the ground, the hardened arena tiles cracking under the pressure.


    I felt his grip on my throat loosen as he reflexively tried to shake off the hands. Dropping to the ground, I stumbled back a step, rubbing my neck and smirking.


    ¡°Checkmate,¡± I said, straightening my tie.


    Yep, I should say¡­ I had a rather convincing performance.


    The truth was, I¡¯d been standing right above my doll the entire time. It had been hiding in plain sight, integrated seamlessly into the stage.


    Before Karl could react further, more Soul Chains erupted from the ground, spiraling around him in glowing arcs. They wrapped tightly, encasing him like a cocoon of light and binding his aura in place.


    I studied him for a moment. My mind raced through the possibilities. Breaking his will and forcing a confession about his crimes and his ties to the Elsewhere Cult would have been ideal¡ªbut this wasn¡¯t the time or place for that.


    Besides, someone like Karl would have safeguards in place, defenses against mental invasions or forced admissions.


    I took a step closer, my voice low and resolute. ¡°You¡¯re done, Karl. Whatever tricks you¡¯ve been saving, they won¡¯t work here.¡±


    His eyes burned with fury, but the chains held firm. For now.


    I glanced at the heart still clutched in my hand, its aura pulsating faintly. A trophy of Karl¡¯s relentless arrogance.


    With a thought, I commanded my doll to rise.


    It crawled out from beneath the cracked arena floor with an eerie grace, its movements fluid and deliberate. The sleek mannequin-like figure stood, revealing its feminine curves and delicate features as if mocking the chaos around us.


    I smirked, turning my gaze to Karl, whose struggles against the Soul Chains grew fiercer by the second. ¡°Karl Arman,¡± I called, my tone dripping with feigned gratitude, ¡°thank you for your gift.¡±


    The doll approached me silently, its chest cavity opening like the petals of a mechanical flower.


    With precise care, I placed the heart inside. The aura within it pulsed brighter for a moment, resonating with the doll as the chest cavity sealed itself shut. The doll¡¯s eyes glimmered faintly, a signal that the fusion was complete.


    I straightened, watching Karl. He was an impressive force¡ªfar more dangerous than I¡¯d anticipated. The Soul Chains that had bound him so tightly were snapping now, one after another, like overstretched rubber bands.


    Each dissolution sent ripples of energy through the arena, proving the immense power he wielded. His efforts were relentless, pulling at the bindings with a raw, surging aura. But I had no intention of letting him escape without a proper reckoning.


    ¡°Your ability,¡± I began dissecting his ability right on his face, ¡°allows you to ¡®hack¡¯ aura control. It¡¯s not so different from my ¡®Soul Link,¡¯ which lets me sabotage aura connections. But your version requires direct eyesight. Paired with your ¡®weakening¡¯ attribute, it¡¯s a potent combination¡ªyou hinder and dampen your target¡¯s senses until you can redirect their aura¡¯s functions entirely.¡±


    Karl¡¯s chains groaned as more snapped free, his aura flaring brighter.


    ¡°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 impressive.¡±


    Karl glared at me, his jaw tightening. The disdain in his eyes only confirmed how precise my analysis was.


    I continued, raising my voice slightly for the crowd and the live broadcast. It was a way to show my superiority and how much danger as an individual I posed to the Elsewhere Cult. ¡°As for your vaunted regeneration, it¡¯s not yours at all. It comes from the Tower itself. You hacked its restoration systems, forcing it to misread you as deceased. By faking your death, you¡¯ve been able to exploit its healing protocols. And of course, the referee or the technical team has no way of knowing that.¡±


    A ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the audience.


    Bob, standing off to the side, whistled low. ¡°He¡­ hacked the Tower? That¡¯s impressive. Looks like we¡¯ll need to call our engineers and scientists to patch things up. What a mess.¡±


    Karl¡¯s movements grew more aggressive as his arms wrested against the last of the chains. Blue and white aura radiated from him in waves, the pulsing energy making the air vibrate. The Soul Chains snapped one by one under his sheer determination and power.


    Karl roared, his aura surging as he launched forward. ¡°Your arrogance will be your death!¡±


    I held my ground, meeting his gaze steadily. ¡°You are mistaken,¡± I replied, my tone calm and resolute. ¡°You are already dead.¡±


    Confusion flickered across his face, and then he looked down. His eyes widened as he saw his own heart, bloody and torn, in the grip of a mannequin hand. My doll had slipped behind him, moving with quiet precision, and ripped the organ free a second time. This time, however, there would be no miraculous regeneration.


    Karl staggered, clutching at his chest, his aura faltering. ¡°How?¡± he rasped, his voice filled with disbelief.


    I tilted my head slightly, as if addressing a particularly dense student. ¡°My doll simply used your attribute better than you could. It¡¯s ironic, really.¡±


    The doll held Karl¡¯s heart aloft, its fingers stained with his lifeblood. It moved with an eerie grace, prying open its own chest cavity without any input from me. I frowned, my control still tethered to the doll through our Soul Link, but it was acting autonomously.


    The cavity revealed the first heart I¡¯d already embedded there, now pulsing faintly with aura. With unsettling accuracy, the doll placed Karl¡¯s second heart beside the first, locking it into place as if it were a spare part.


    I studied the link between us, intrigued. It seemed the doll had interpreted my command to ¡°take¡± Karl¡¯s attribute in an unexpected way. Instead of overwriting or absorbing it, the doll had chosen to keep both hearts, treating the second as a backup or reinforcement.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± I muttered under my breath, watching as Karl¡¯s body slumped to the ground, his aura dissipating like smoke in the wind. His once-mighty presence was reduced to nothing but a fading shadow.


    I glanced back at my doll. Its chest cavity closed with a mechanical smoothness, and it stood motionless, awaiting further commands.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with you later,¡± I murmured, narrowing my eyes at the mannequin-like figure. Whatever had caused this¡­ ¡°bug¡± would need addressing. But for now, Karl Arman was defeated, and the broadcast would carry this triumph to everyone watching.


    I stood rooted to the spot, the faint grin on my face growing into something far more menacing. My posture was unwavering and confident as I remained in my place, my foe barely able to move me from where I stood, barring that one time he held me by my throat.


    My voice rang out, steady and sharp, directed at the broadcast audience.


    ¡°Hunt the Elsewhere Cult, win my favor, and I shall fulfill your wish!¡±


    This was the true beginning of my counterattack.


    The weight of my declaration hung in the air. I knew the Prophet¡¯s clairvoyance couldn¡¯t have foreseen this outcome¡ªnot with Karl destroying probability itself through his mere existence within proximity. It was a flaw in their so-called omniscience, a crack in the foundation of their plans. And now, the broadcast carried this revelation to anyone paying attention, especially the Cult¡¯s members.


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel a spark of satisfaction.


    This confirmed what I suspected all along: the other agents they¡¯d sent to eliminate me before had failed. This was their desperation move, their trump card. And now, even that card lay defeated before me.


    I kept my stance firm, addressing 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 carefully measured to leave an 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 a treasure, and my favors are sacred. Hunters from all walks of life, I invite you to join my hunt.¡±


    The weight of the moment pressed on the arena as I continued. ¡°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, letting the gravity of my words sink in. A neutral smile played across my lips as I studied the audience and the camera¡¯s unflinching lens.


    ¡°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, and I made sure my amused smile reached every corner of the arena.


    ¡°Know this,¡± I continued, my tone 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.¡±


    I turned to Chairman Bob, tilting my head slightly in mock politeness.


    ¡°Chairman Bob, would you please kindly announce my victory?¡±


    ¡°With pleasure,¡± Bob replied, his voice cutting through the tension. ¡°The final victor for this match¡­ is Reynard Bright.¡±


    The roar of the crowd, the echoes of the broadcast, and the weight of my words left a resounding mark. This wasn¡¯t just a victory¡ªit was the beginning of something far larger¡­ a storm of butterflies.

 55 The Lovers

    Inside a modest RV parked at the edge of nowhere, Leora sat at the small table, her blonde hair catching the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the curtains. Her gaze was fixed on the laptop in front of her, replaying the footage of Reynard¡¯s recent match.


    Between her fingers, she idly twirled a tarot card, its illustration depicting The Lovers. The card spun gracefully, catching the light with each rotation, as if mirroring the thoughts turning over in her mind.


    The Hunter Association¡¯s broadcast finally came to an end, the screen fading to black. With a soft sigh, Leora shut the laptop and turned her attention to the small miracle across the room.


    Two-year-old Leon, her son, was utterly engrossed in his latest discovery: a small orb of fire. It danced and flickered between his tiny hands, moving with remarkable precision. His intense concentration was broken only by his occasional giggles of delight, as though the fire were a friend he was learning to understand.


    Leora leaned back in her chair, watching him with a mix of pride and trepidation. The child¡¯s manipulation of aura was instinctive, almost effortless¡ªa gift, no doubt, probably inherited from his father and her affinity with aura itself. Yet it was far more advanced than anything she¡¯d ever seen in someone so young.


    For a moment, she let herself smile. Leon¡¯s progress was astounding, the kind that promised a future filled with potential and glory. But that same promise carried weight.


    Leora folded her arms across her chest, the tarot card still in her grasp. Her smile faded into a pensive frown. She had left the life of a hunter behind¡ªor so she¡¯d hoped. She had made that choice for herself, but what about her son? Could she deny him the very thing he was born to do?


    Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air.


    ¡°If only it was that easy¡­¡±


    Leon giggled again, the fiery orb reflecting in his bright, eager eyes, completely unaware of the burden of choices that lay ahead.


    The weight of the Elsewhere Cult''s relentless pursuit of her son bore heavily on Leora¡¯s mind. She still didn¡¯t know why they were so desperate to find Leon. Reynard wasn¡¯t telling her everything, likely out of fear that sensitive information might slip. That secrecy frustrated her to no end.


    He needed a good talking to, she thought bitterly, but every time she tried to confront him, he deflected.


    When, exactly, had he become a hunter? Did he know she had been a hunter too?


    Again, those thoughts knocked at the back of her mind.


    Guilt weighed on her as she considered the secrets she¡¯d kept from him. She¡¯d hidden the truth about her past life as a hunter because she believed Reynard was a mundane, a normal human outside of the hunter world. It wasn¡¯t until recently, when he tracked her down and assigned her babysitting duties, that she realized how wrong she¡¯d been.


    Her train of thought was interrupted by a subtle shift in the air¡ªa faint, almost imperceptible spike in heat. Leora¡¯s Seeker Eyes kicked in instinctively, analyzing the fiery orb in Leon¡¯s tiny hands. It was getting hotter, dangerously so.


    In a blur of movement, she scooped up her son, activating her superhuman speed. With a single bound, she dashed out of the RV into the open desert beyond. The blazing heat from the orb pulsed against her, but she didn¡¯t falter.


    Once outside, Leora gently pried the orb of fire from Leon¡¯s little hands. Her son giggled, completely unfazed by the intensity of the moment.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you like this, little troublemaker,¡± she muttered under her breath.


    Leora concentrated, her aura flaring as she manipulated the orb. Fire wasn¡¯t her specialty, but through countless repetitions, she¡¯d mastered the delicate art of converting flames into harmless heat waves. It cost her a significant portion of her aura pool¡ªa frustrating drain on her reserves¡ªbut the danger was neutralized.


    With a subtle shimmer, the fiery orb dissolved into a harmless ripple of warmth that dissipated into the air.


    ¡°Whew,¡± she exhaled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.


    In her arms, Leon let out a delighted cheer, his little hands flailing.


    ¡°Who~oooz!¡± the baby exclaimed, mimicking the sound of the rushing wind.


    Leora could have turned the orb into a dazzling display of fireworks, but the thought of drawing unnecessary attention stopped her. Out in the desert, the last thing she needed was to light up the sky like a beacon for anyone¡ªor anything¡ªwatching.


    As she returned to the RV, her baby boy had drifted off to sleep in her arms. Leon looked so peaceful now, but Leora knew better than to trust that serenity. His adventurous streak, so much like her own, could easily lead to disaster if she didn¡¯t keep a close eye on him.


    Gently, she placed Leon in his crib¡ªa specially made construct of ore from the Forbidden Region. The metal severed aura control, making it the perfect barrier for a toddler with an affinity for chaos. To an experienced aura master, the effects could be bypassed, but for Leon, it would hold. At least for now.


    As Leora adjusted the crib¡¯s blankets, a knock at the RV door startled her. Her instincts flared, and she reached for her katana, which rested within easy reach, unsheathed. With her free hand, she opened the door cautiously.


    Seeing Stefan¡¯s familiar face, she relaxed. He was as close to a father figure as she had, and his presence was always reassuring.


    Stefan stepped inside without hesitation and dropped into the nearest chair with a practiced ease.


    ¡°Your tails are either dead or they¡¯ve withdrawn,¡± he said without preamble, his gruff voice filling the small space. ¡°Your husband did excellently in the exams. Chairman Bob himself is looking forward to having him join the Hunting Dogs.¡±


    Leora froze. The Hunting Dogs?


    Her anger flared. ¡°What? The Hunting Dogs?¡±


    Stefan¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but his eyes held a flicker of something¡ªamusement, perhaps? ¡°Whose idea is it?¡± she demanded, her voice sharp.


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Stefan leaned back slightly, his tone casual. ¡°So you don¡¯t know. I thought he¡¯d already told you. Or maybe Selena? She didn¡¯t mention it either?¡±


    Leora¡¯s grip on the katana tightened.


    ¡°It¡¯s your husband, Reynard,¡± Stefan continued. ¡°I¡¯m banking on the idea that he plans to use the Hunting Dogs¡¯ resources to go after the organization targeting your family.¡±


    Leora¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°No wonder he told you it would take roughly three years,¡± Stefan added, his voice taking on a rare note of admiration. ¡°That¡¯s some dedication.¡±


    Leora remained silent, 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 husband¡¯s motives might be noble, but the path he was walking was dangerous. For the first time, Leora wondered if their family¡¯s survival would come at the cost of the man she loved.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Leora''s thoughts drifted to her own time in the Hunting Dogs. The memories were raw, vivid, and steeped in blood. According to Stefan, the organization had become "tamer" since the last time he had been involved in their operations. But Leora knew better. The Hunting Dogs didn¡¯t do ¡°tame.¡± There was no quitting them¡ªnot unless you found yourself at the end of a blade or were lucky enough to receive a rare, gracious retirement. And even that required all ten directors to agree, with the chairman¡¯s blessing.


    She had walked away only because of the blood she had spilled. Her contributions had bought her freedom. Yet, they¡¯d also earned her a reputation as a psychotic monster, a label she¡¯d carried for a long time before she managed to fade into obscurity.


    Steeling herself, Leora pulled out her phone and called Selena. Her best friend, her partner in chaos, and the only person she trusted like family. She put the call on speaker, allowing Stefan to listen in.


    The moment the line connected, the first sounds were unmistakably not what she¡¯d expected¡ªor wanted¡ªto hear.


    From the phone came sultry moans accompanied by faint, rhythmic slapping and absurdly cheesy background music.


    Selena¡¯s unmistakable voice followed. ¡°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 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 that didn¡¯t mean she was entirely immune. Stefan, sitting nearby, 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. Selena, for all her skill and charm, was hopelessly obsessed with the idea of ¡°love at first sight¡± and finding her soulmate. It was a fixation that bordered on absurdity, but Selena swore it had to do with her bloodline¡¯s secret technique. Somehow, that strange philosophy of hers made Leora grudgingly trust that she wouldn¡¯t let Reynard come to harm.


    Leora pinched the bridge of her nose and asked, ¡°Is it true? Reynard is joining the Hunting Dogs?¡±


    Selena''s playful tone turned slightly more serious. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him. He¡¯ll be fine. I planned to join too. 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 might¡¯ve slipped up about the Hunting Dogs part.¡±


    A familiar voice came through the phone, one that immediately 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 trying to mess with me again?¡±


    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 playing some elaborate prank.¡±


    There was a brief pause before Reynard replied smoothly, ¡°You have a mole under your left breast.¡±


    Leora¡¯s face turned crimson, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°Damn it, Reynard!¡±


    Stefan coughed awkwardly, pretending not to notice her reaction, while Selena burst into laughter on the other end of the line.


    ¡°Oh, he definitely knows his way around you, Leora,¡± Selena teased, her tone filled with mischief.


    Leora buried her face in her hands. ¡°I hate all of you right now.¡±


    After the teasing subsided, Leora¡¯s momentary relief was shattered when Leon let out a loud wail, followed by a fireball forming in his tiny hand as he tossed in his sleep. The fireball sputtered weakly against the magical crib¡¯s aura-dampening metal, dissipating before it could cause any damage. But the close call made Leora¡¯s heart nearly leap out of her chest.


    Stefan glanced at the crib, shaking his head. ¡°That super baby is outgrowing his crib, Leora. You¡¯ll need something a lot stronger soon.¡±


    Leora sighed, brushing her hair back in frustration. ¡°I know. It¡¯s just¡­ everything all at once.¡±


    She turned her attention back to the phone and spoke firmly. ¡°Can I talk to Reynard alone?¡±


    Selena''s amused voice answered, ¡°Sure thing. Reynard, take it.¡±


    Leora didn¡¯t waste any time. She stepped out of the RV, activating her light attribute. In a flash, she ran far from the vehicle, stopping only when she was confident she was completely alone. The desert wind swirled around her as she brought the phone back to her ear.


    ¡°Reynard, clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, clear,¡± Reynard replied, his voice steady but tinged with concern.


    Leora¡¯s voice trembled, but she forced herself to stay composed as she spoke into the phone. ¡°I am desperately finding it difficult to match you with the Reynard that I know. The hunter version of you... it¡¯s too foreign to me. You are ¡®Reynard,¡¯ right? Not some shapeshifting cryptid? Not some long-lost twin? Not some amnesiac guy who recently remembered his hunter life?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s reply was calm, but there was a trace of warmth beneath the steady tone. ¡°Yes, I am Reynard. And no, I am neither a cryptid, a shapeshifter, a long-lost twin, nor some amnesiac guy.¡±


    Leora exhaled slowly, relief and frustration mingling in her chest. ¡°You have a lot of explaining to do, so don¡¯t die out there.¡±


    ¡°I promise,¡± Reynard said, his voice firm. ¡°I will come back as soon as possible. I¡¯d like to tell you more about myself, and I¡¯d like to know more about you. I¡¯d love for us to be together again. Don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªI¡¯d love to fall in love all over again and tell you about the hunter version of me, but I can¡¯t. Not yet. But we can talk about Leon.¡±


    Leora bit her lip, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. His smooth words and eloquence still had that disarming effect, even after everything. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of gladness that some things about him hadn¡¯t changed.


    ¡°Oh, that boy is a super baby, alright,¡± she said, her voice softening slightly. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen him set his third RV on fire.¡±


    ¡°That bad, huh?¡± Reynard¡¯s tone was laced with amusement, and she could almost see the wry smile on his face.


    Leora chuckled despite herself. ¡°That bad. He¡¯s definitely your son.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like he¡¯s taking after you,¡± Reynard teased gently.


    She rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t suppress the small smile that crept onto her lips. ¡°Just make sure you come back, Reynard. No more secrets, no more deflections. You owe me that much.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come back, Leora,¡± he assured her, his voice resolute. ¡°I promise.¡±


    Leora¡¯s grip on the phone tightened as her voice turned sharp. ¡°Do you know why the hell this cult is hunting our boy?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s reply was measured but tinged with wariness. ¡°Where did that come from?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, Rey¡­¡± Leora¡¯s tone softened, but her words carried weight. ¡°Initially, I thought the hit was for me. But after taking care of Leon these past few months, I¡¯ve realized¡­ they¡¯re after him. They¡¯ve been after him all along.¡±


    Reynard sighed heavily on the other end of the line, as though the weight of the truth was pressing down on him. ¡°Because Leon will grow to become a powerful hunter in the future. At some point, the cult will clash against him, and Leon will burn them until they are nothing but ash.¡±


    Leora frowned, struggling to process the enormity of his words. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe, I know,¡± Reynard said quietly. ¡°But the two of us¡­ we¡¯re meant to die at some point, ten years after Leon was born. We¡¯ll leave him all alone.¡± His voice cracked slightly, betraying the pain he was trying to hide. ¡°I don¡¯t want to see that happen, Leora. That¡¯s why I¡¯m resorting to the extreme. Everything I¡¯m doing¡­ it¡¯s to prevent that future.¡±


    Leora¡¯s heart sank. ¡°Is it¡­ a definite future?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Reynard admitted. ¡°But I¡¯m working hard to change it.¡± He hesitated, then added, ¡°I promise I¡¯ll tell you everything when the time is right. I know it sounds unbelievable now, but trust me on this¡ªour boy will grow into someone strong, dependable¡­ and, well, a chick magnet.¡±


    Leora let out an incredulous laugh despite herself, the absurdity of Reynard¡¯s last comment cutting through the tension. ¡°A chick magnet, huh? Of course, that¡¯s where your mind goes.¡±


    Reynard chuckled softly, a hint of his usual charm slipping through. ¡°It¡¯s not hard to imagine, is it? He¡¯s already got the Bright family charisma.¡±


    Leora¡¯s laughter faded, replaced by 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 firmly. ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°Leora¡­ I might not be able to contact you for the next few years.¡± His voice was heavy with regret. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to tell you about my decision to join the Hunting Dogs. It¡¯s the only way to secure your and Leon¡¯s safety. To protect you both, I need the power 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 chest tightened as a mix of emotions surged within her¡ªanger, fear, sorrow, and pride all at once. Her hands trembled as she gripped the phone, knowing that her reluctance, no matter how deep, couldn¡¯t outweigh the love she bore for her family.


    ¡°When the fighting gets tough,¡± she whispered, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart, ¡°you call for me, okay?¡±


    There was a smile in Reynard¡¯s voice, bittersweet and knowing. ¡°I will. That¡¯s what the tarot card is for¡­ isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Leora bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes as she glanced down at the Lovers card in her hand. It was unexpectedly worn at the edges, yet it held a strength that mirrored their bond. Her own aura method having battered it time and time again to reforged it as part of her arsenal. She held it close to her chest. It was the symbol of their connection.


    ¡°You better keep that promise,¡± she said softly.


    ¡°I will, Leora,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°I swear.¡±


    That was the second time Reynard had consecutively made a promise. The first promise was not to die out there. The second was to promise that he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to call her if it was a ¡®fight¡¯ that needed fighting. In the silence that followed, Leora stared into the night, holding onto these fragile promises with all her might. For their son. For their future. For the fight that was only just beginning.

 56 Three Years Later

    It had been three years. I stood on the highest floor of a hotel suite, overlooking the expanse of the Capital City. The skyline was bathed in the warm hues of a setting sun, casting long shadows over the bustling streets below. My reflection stared back at me from the glass window¡ªa man in a suit, disheveled and marked by the remnants of yet another mission. The tie felt like a noose, a constant reminder of the dual life I led as a Hunting Dog.


    The Hunting Dogs were a shadow organization, an elite special force of Hunters operating under the sole command of the Hunter Association¡¯s president.


    Secrecy was paramount in this organization; every operative had their memories wiped clean after a mission. Most of them didn¡¯t even know they were part of the organization, living their lives oblivious to the blood on their hands. I was the exception. I had applied for this job voluntarily, making me aware of my affiliation. But there were limits even in privileges. Like most ¡®Dogs¡¯, my memories were wiped after every mission.


    Behind me, Selena idly leaned on the sofa, her dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She was dressed casually, a stark contrast to my formal wear, yet there was a sharpness in her eyes that never dulled. She was more than a bodyguard¡ªa companion, a confidante, someone I could trust in this chaotic life.


    "The Prophet is dead," Selena said, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a mixture of relief and lingering irritation. "And it looks like only the Saint remains. I never took the Prophet for such a slimy bastard. Can you imagine it? Even after exposing his public identity, it took this long for him to die?"


    I turned away from the window and loosened my tie, letting out a sigh. "The Prophet was always the most problematic. Despite being unmasked, he had too many layers of protection, too many loyalists willing to die for him."


    Selena snorted, folding her arms. "Slimy bastard indeed. But now the Elsewhere Cult is practically finished. The Saint might be formidable, but he¡¯s alone. The power structure has crumbled. It¡¯s only a matter of time before he gets what¡¯s coming to him."


    I nodded, though her words didn¡¯t bring the sense of finality I¡¯d hoped for. The Cult¡¯s influence had loomed over my life for years, and while this was a victory, it felt hollow. Too much blood had been spilled, too many lives shattered in the pursuit of bringing them down.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s really over?¡± I asked, more to myself than to her.


    Selena tilted her head, studying me. ¡°The Prophet was the brains behind the operation like you said. Without him, the Saint¡¯s just a zealot with no direction. We¡¯ll get him too, Reynard. This ends with us.¡±


    Her confidence was reassuring, but I couldn¡¯t shake the unease that clung to me. Every mission as a Hunting Dog left me with an uncomfortable sensation, a hollow emptiness that no amount of victories could fill. Memories of faces, of screams, of things I¡¯d done and witnessed¡ªthey never truly faded, even if the Association¡¯s mind-wiping technology ensured that most of my comrades didn¡¯t carry the same burden.


    Selena¡¯s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. ¡°You¡¯ve been staring into space for a while now. You¡¯re not going to brood all night, are you? We¡¯ve got reasons to celebrate.¡±


    I gave her a small smile. ¡°Celebrate, huh? How do you suggest we do that?¡±


    She grinned, leaning back into the sofa with a casual air. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. Maybe ditch the suit, have a drink, and actually act like a human being for once? Or we could just sit here in silence while you overthink everything. Your call, King of Favors.¡±


    Her teasing tone made me chuckle despite myself. ¡°Alright, alright. Maybe I could use a break.¡±


    Selena reached for the bottle of wine she¡¯d brought earlier, pouring two glasses. As she handed me one, her expression softened. ¡°We¡¯ve come a long way, you know. Don¡¯t lose sight of that. The Cult¡¯s grip is weakening. You¡¯ve done more than most could ever dream of.¡±


    I took the glass and had a sip.


    ¡°Just a little bit more and I will be free from this lifestyle¡­¡±


    I¡¯d specialized in bounty hunting for a while now. The pay was good, great even. I¡¯d been rolling in dough for months, but no matter how much I earned, it never felt like enough. The Elsewhere Cult was bigger than I¡¯d ever imagined. Their reach extended beyond borders, beyond even the World Wall. Their influence was like a shadow, creeping into places I¡¯d thought untouchable.


    I leaned against the suite¡¯s window, the cool glass pressing against my forehead as I stared out over Capital City. The twinkling lights stretched as far as I could see, but none of them held the warmth I craved.


    ¡°I¡¯ve accumulated enough merits to request the Association¡¯s resources in full force,¡± I muttered, almost to myself. My reflection in the glass looked tired, older than I remembered. ¡°With their active participation, things should quickly change. The kill order for the Elsewhere Saint has been raised a few levels now. It won¡¯t be long before the Saint kicks the bucket, and I can finally go home.¡±


    Home. The word tasted bittersweet. It had been three long years since I¡¯d held Leora in my arms or heard Leon¡¯s laughter in person. My boy should be five years old by now. Five. I couldn¡¯t even picture what he looked like anymore. Had he gotten taller? Did he inherit his mother¡¯s stubborn streak? Did he still cry out for me at night, or had he learned to forget his father, the man who left to fight monsters?This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Selena stretched on the sofa, her posture lazy but her eyes sharp. ¡°You know,¡± she said, her voice cutting through my thoughts, ¡°you could always delegate this. Plenty of capable hunters in the Association would jump at the chance to bring down the¡­ Saint. It isn¡¯t every day hunters get a chance at fighting a shadowy cabal. I mean, you could just sit back and wait for the news, right?¡±


    I snorted. ¡°One wrong move, and we¡¯re back to square one. I''d rather stay on the field juts to make sure he dies with finality.¡±


    She smirked, dark eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°Always the perfectionist. You sure you¡¯re not just stalling? Afraid to face the missus after all this time?¡±


    Her jab hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. ¡°She knows why I¡¯m doing this,¡± I said, my voice firm. ¡°She might not like it, but she understands. This is the only way to keep them safe.¡±


    Selena shrugged, the movement fluid and dismissive. ¡°If you say so. Just don¡¯t wait too long. Women like Leora don¡¯t stay on the shelf forever, you know.¡±


    I shot her a look, and she held up her hands in mock surrender. ¡°Kidding, kidding. You¡¯re the great Reynard Bright, King of Favors. Who could compete with that?¡±


    ¡°Please, you know me better than that.¡± I smiled.


    Selena tilted her head, watching me with a lazy grin. ¡°Who was it again that killed the Prophet? You promised something ridiculous on a live broadcast, didn¡¯t you? A divine favor or whatever? What was the guy¡¯s name again?¡±


    I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°Loki.¡±


    ¡°Loki gets it. Delegation, see?¡± Her grin widened. ¡°Yeah, that guy. Loki from the Undead Troupe. What a weirdo. Seriously, a bunch of wackos if you ask me. He asked me to join his troupe again last week, can you believe it? Total buzzard. What do you think? Should I join?¡±


    ¡°Loki, huh,¡± I muttered, half to myself. The name conjured an image of the man¡ªlean, sharp-eyed, and perpetually smug. Loki O. Loki. A wildcard if there ever was one. It felt like just yesterday he had appeared unannounced in my kitchen.


    It had been a quiet morning¡ªor as quiet as life could be when you were neck-deep in a war against a cult. I¡¯d been fixing myself a cup of coffee when I walked into the kitchen and found him already there, humming some ridiculous tune while he boiled water.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he¡¯d said casually, like he belonged there, lifting the kettle to pour himself a cup. And then, with that ever-present grin, he¡¯d plopped the decapitated head of the Elsewhere Prophet onto my countertop.


    I stared at it, blinking in stunned silence. ¡°What the hell, Loki?¡±


    He¡¯d shrugged. ¡°Thought I¡¯d save you some trouble. Guy wasn¡¯t much of a Prophet, if you ask me. Too many loose ends.¡± He sipped his coffee, utterly unfazed. ¡°So, about that divine favor...¡±


    Back in the present, Selena snapped her fingers, bringing me out of the memory. ¡°Earth to Reynard. What¡¯s the verdict? Should I join his merry band of freaks, or what?¡±


    I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯d fit right in with them, but I¡¯m not sure the world¡¯s ready for that level of chaos.¡±


    Selena laughed, her voice light and carefree. ¡°Fair enough. But seriously, Loki¡¯s got a vibe. A little unhinged, but you can¡¯t deny he gets results. The Prophet¡¯s head? Classic Loki.¡±


    I nodded, my mind drifting. Loki was a wildcard, yes, but he was also the kind of ally who could upend the board in your favor. It didn¡¯t make me trust him, not entirely, but it made him useful. And in my line of work, useful was enough¡ªfor now.


    The sound of polished heels clicked against the floor as the brunette entered the room. She was a vision in a tailored suit, complemented by a red tie and an elegant ribbon in her hair. Her features were striking¡ªfair skin, strong oriental lines, an oval face with a beauty mark near her lips, and a figure that would make heads turn. She moved with poise, her every step measured and purposeful.


    This was Reina¡ªmy Soul Doll.


    I didn¡¯t choose for her to look like that. She had just¡­ turned out that way. Since my grueling fight with the Elsewhere Hero, she had undergone a series of evolutions, adapting and refining herself until she had developed something akin to a personality matrix. She even gave herself a name, a derivative of mine.


    Reina¡¯s voice was soft yet commanding. ¡°Father, you have a visitor.¡±


    And yes, she addressed me as Father. It was a little unsettling at first, but I¡¯d gotten used to it. She regarded me with an air of deference, her tone formal but carrying a hint of warmth.


    Following close behind her was a petite woman in an equally crisp uniform. Her dark hair was tied neatly back, and she carried herself with a newfound sense of purpose. Sarah Maldave¡ªonce a fervent cultist and now a devout atheist, thanks to what she called my "enlightenment."


    ¡°Milord,¡± Sarah began, bowing slightly. ¡°Most of the Cult¡¯s assets have been transferred for your use. Additionally, a significant number of our former members have been converted. All thanks to you enlightening us to the Truth.¡±


    I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. ¡°Converted, huh? That¡¯s one way to put it.¡±


    Sarah straightened, her expression a mix of pride and determination. ¡°Yes, Milord. Your words, your actions¡ªthey¡¯ve shown us the path. The Prophet¡¯s lies no longer bind us.¡±


    Reina, ever the observant one, interjected with her usual precision. ¡°The redistribution of the Cult¡¯s resources will require your approval, Father. Shall I proceed with the arrangements?¡±


    I glanced at her, appreciating how far she had come. What started as a weapon¡ªa Soul Doll forged for battle¡ªhad grown into something far more sophisticated. Reina wasn¡¯t just a tool; she was becoming a partner, someone who could think, plan, and act in ways I hadn¡¯t anticipated.


    I turned my attention back to Sarah. ¡°And the Saint?¡±


    Sarah hesitated, her demeanor momentarily faltering. ¡°The Saint remains elusive, Milord. But with the Prophet gone and the organization crumbling, it¡¯s only a matter of time. Your leadership has¡ª¡±


    ¡°Spare me the flattery,¡± I said, cutting her off with a wave of my hand. ¡°Focus on results.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Milord,¡± she said quickly, her face reddening slightly.


    Reina tilted her head, studying Sarah with a curious expression. ¡°Efficiency is key,¡± she said softly, her tone carrying a subtle hint of amusement.


    The room fell quiet for a moment. As much as I wanted to celebrate the progress we¡¯d made, I knew there was still a long road ahead. The Saint wasn¡¯t going to fall as easily as the Prophet.


    ¡°Keep me updated,¡± I finally said, rising to my feet. ¡°Both of you.¡±


    Reina gave a slight nod, her ribbon swaying with the movement. ¡°As you wish, Father.¡±


    Sarah bowed again before turning to leave, her petite form vanishing through the doorway.


    I stood there for a moment, staring at the space they¡¯d vacated. The fight wasn¡¯t over, not by a long shot. But with allies like these, maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI¡¯d see the end of it. And maybe, just maybe, I¡¯d finally get to go home.

 57 The Quarry

    Reina remained rooted in her place, her sharp gaze unwavering as she spoke. ¡°If I may be so bold, Father, I¡¯d like to express my opinion on Ms. Maldave.¡±


    Her words caught me off guard, though I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. Reina¡¯s opinions were rarely kept to herself, especially when it concerned people in my circle. Her calculated demeanor and piercing intellect often made her a reliable advisor, but this was Sarah Maldave we were talking about. The same woman who had just left the room seconds ago.


    Sarah Maldave wasn¡¯t just anyone. Petite and small-framed, with dark hair and striking red eyes, she had an air of quiet intensity that belied her abilities. Her power to read minds made her an invaluable asset¡ªboth during missions and within the broader scope of my work.


    I couldn¡¯t forget the day she first crossed my path, during the tournament.


    Back then, I had deliberately let her read portions of my memories. I showed her the truth about the god her cult worshiped¡ªa god that was, in reality, nothing more than a cunning cryptid playing its worshippers like pawns on a chessboard. That revelation had shattered her convictions. She¡¯d forfeited the match and abandoned her position within the cult almost immediately. Since then, Sarah had been an ally in dismantling the Cult from within, eventually joining The Company under my leadership.


    Selena, who had been lounging nearby as usual, didn¡¯t miss a beat. She twirled a strand of her hair, her lips curling into a sly smile. ¡°Go on, dearie, tell your daddy dearest what¡¯s in that sharp little head of yours.¡±


    Reina turned to Selena briefly, her expression unamused. ¡°I find Sarah Maldave to be an untrustworthy asset,¡± she stated bluntly. Her tone carried no malice, only a steely determination to be heard. ¡°The Company has invested a significant amount of resources into her operations to turn the Cult against itself. Yet, the results remain negligible. Numbers don¡¯t lie. If she truly meant well for you, Father, and for the Company, she would produce better outcomes.¡±


    It was a bold accusation. One that hung in the air like a storm cloud. Reina wasn¡¯t merely questioning Sarah¡¯s competence; she was practically insinuating betrayal. And her reasoning? That Sarah wasn¡¯t earning me enough money.


    Yeah, right¡­ espionage wasn¡¯t exactly a money maker.


    I sighed and leaned against my desk. ¡°That¡¯s a tough take, Reina.¡±


    ¡°The facts are there, Father,¡± she replied firmly. ¡°Ms. Maldave¡¯s activities yield minimal results, while her expenses drain resources that could be better allocated elsewhere.¡±


    Selena chuckled, leaning back on the couch with an exaggerated stretch. ¡°Oh, Reina, sweetie, you¡¯d make such a harsh CFO. Not everyone¡¯s worth can be measured in credits and gold, you know. Besides, Sarah¡¯s trying her best to leave her brainwashed days behind. Cut the girl some slack.¡±


    Reina didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Effort is admirable, but results are what matter. Particularly when the stakes are as high as they are now.¡±


    The Company. It wasn¡¯t the most creative name, but it was what I had settled on when establishing my bounty-hunting firm. What had started as a one-man operation had grown into a full-fledged organization. I now had an entire building staffed with private investigators, analysts, and a network of contracted bounty hunters. Yet, despite the growth, Reina¡¯s words reminded me of the cold reality: in this line of work, resources were limited, and trust was priceless.


    I rubbed the back of my neck, mulling over how to explain my perspective to Reina. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t understand her concerns. Reina was fiercely loyal and protective¡ªtraits I valued deeply¡ªbut she also had a tendency to view things in stark terms. To her, Sarah¡¯s lack of immediate results equaled failure, if not outright sabotage.


    But I didn¡¯t see Sarah as a traitor. Not after everything she¡¯d done and sacrificed to fight against the Cult. Her conviction may not have translated perfectly into metrics, but her intel and insight into the Cult¡¯s operations had been invaluable. The battle against the Elsewhere Cult wasn¡¯t just about profit¡ªit was personal. For me, for her, for everyone who had suffered at their hands.


    ¡°Reina,¡± I began carefully, ¡°Sarah isn¡¯t just another operative. She¡¯s someone who¡¯s seen the worst of the Cult and chosen to fight against it. That kind of conviction isn¡¯t easy to measure.¡±


    Reina¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but I could tell she was listening. ¡°Conviction without results is meaningless,¡± she said with contempt.


    The ¡®results¡¯ couldn¡¯t always be translated into numbers, I wanted to argue that.


    ¡°Not entirely,¡± I countered. ¡°Think about it¡ªevery lead she provides, every insight into the Cult¡¯s structure, helps us get one step closer to taking them down. She¡¯s working on the inside, risking her life every day. That kind of access doesn¡¯t come cheap.¡±Stolen story; please report.


    Selena chimed in again, her voice playful. ¡°Besides, aren¡¯t you the one always saying ¡®efficiency is key¡¯? Maybe Sarah¡¯s playing the long game. Ever think of that, Reina? Don¡¯t get surprised¡­ maybe the little missy will drop you one day a vault full of gold after everything calms down.¡±


    Reina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°I see your point, Father. However, I will keep monitoring her activities. If there is even the slightest indication of betrayal, I will act accordingly.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°But remember, Reina¡ªtrust is a two-way street. Let her prove herself.¡±


    With that, Reina gave a small bow before stepping back, her expression softening slightly. ¡°As you wish, Father.¡±


    Selena grinned. ¡°Good girl. Now, who¡¯s up for a drink? This room¡¯s way too tense.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at Selena¡¯s antics, though my mind was already elsewhere. Sarah¡¯s loyalty wasn¡¯t something I doubted, but Reina¡¯s words served as a reminder. In this world, trust was a fragile thing, easily broken and hard to rebuild. And with the Saint still out there, I couldn¡¯t afford to be careless.


    Selena piped up with a teasing lilt, ¡°Is it just me, or are you surrounding yourself with too many women?¡±


    I frowned, not in the mood for her antics, but that only seemed to encourage her. ¡°There¡¯s me, Reina, that Sarah girl¡­ and then there¡¯s the Director of Operations from the Association. Hmm¡­¡± She tapped her chin theatrically, her grin widening. ¡°Should I tell Leora about all your lady friends?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t start,¡± I muttered, doing my best to ignore her.


    But her words did make me think about Atropos, the Director of Operations¡ªand my self-proclaimed sister. She was a peculiar one, even among Hunters. She¡¯d requested to meet me at the Hunter¡¯s Association HQ today. It was rare for her to reach out directly, and rarer still for her to insist on a face-to-face meeting. Whatever it was, it had to be important.


    I checked the time on my watch. It looked like my appointment with Atropos was approaching. ¡°Reina,¡± I said, turning to her, ¡°Like always, I¡¯ll leave you in charge of the Company while I¡¯m gone. Make sure things run smoothly.¡±


    ¡°As always, Father,¡± Reina replied, her tone neutral but tinged with pride.


    I turned to Selena, who was lounging against the desk. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I have an appointment.¡±


    Selena yawned, stretching her arms lazily before hopping to her feet. In the blink of an eye, her outfit transformed. Gone was her casual loungewear, replaced by tacky punk-inspired gangster-style clothes that looked utterly ridiculous. She blew a bright pink bubble of gum, letting it pop loudly, and smirked at me. Whether she was being a smartass or just entertaining herself, I couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°Let¡¯s roll, sugar daddy,¡± she said, twirling a finger in the air. ¡°And you better bring me somewhere fun after your boring meeting.¡±


    I rolled my eyes but didn¡¯t bother to argue. Selena was going to be Selena. Besides, her ability to blend into¡ªor, in this case, stand out from¡ªany crowd had its uses.


    Like always, Selena took the wheel. Driving was her domain, and I let her revel in it. I never cared much for cars or transportation in general; if I had a choice, I¡¯d teleport everywhere. Unfortunately, teleportation wasn¡¯t one of the tricks in my arsenal, so I tolerated the mundane necessity of the commute.


    The ride was as eventful as any trip with Selena¡ªloud music, reckless turns, and her endless chatter, which I half-listened to while going over mental notes about the meeting ahead.


    When we arrived at the Hunter¡¯s Association HQ, I stepped out and glanced around at the familiar surroundings. The place always carried an air of authority and mystery, bustling with Hunters coming and going, and whispers of dangerous assignments floating in the air. Selena followed me inside but lingered near the entrance, assuming the role of a bodyguard with an exaggerated flourish that earned her a few odd looks from passersby.


    We navigated the maze-like corridors, their polished floors and pristine walls still as imposing as ever, until we reached Atropos¡¯s office. The door was ajar as if expecting me. Without hesitation, I stepped in and took the seat across from her desk, the one she always kept ready for me.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Atropos,¡± I greeted, my voice steady as I leaned back into the chair. Atropos, with her trademark air of authority and a hint of sibling familiarity, looked up from the folder she was reviewing.


    ¡°Good afternoon, brother,¡± she replied, her sharp eyes meeting mine briefly before she closed the file. ¡°The Association has intel on your quarry.¡±


    Straight to the point, as always. I nodded, my attention now fully on her. ¡°What have you found?¡±


    ¡°The Elsewhere Saint has been located. We have reason to believe they¡¯re holed up in the Outer Zone near the World Wall. Details are sparse, but it seems they¡¯ve established a stronghold of sorts, heavily fortified and crawling with loyalists. However... Chances are... said loyalists had vacated the area and abandoned the Saint, at least that''s what our divination techniques provided us.¡±


    I absorbed her words, my mind already piecing together potential strategies. The Outer Zone near the World Wall was treacherous¡ªa lawless expanse where even seasoned Hunters rarely ventured.


    ¡°And the Association¡¯s stance?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Kill Order stands. Your mission parameters are clear: eliminate the Saint, dismantle their operations, and ensure no remnants of the Cult persist.¡±


    No pressure, then. I crossed my arms, weighing my options. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the culmination of years of effort and sacrifice. Yet, a twinge of unease coiled in my gut. The Saint wouldn¡¯t be an easy target. They never were.


    Atropos¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. ¡°This mission will likely stretch your limits. If you require additional resources or personnel, now is the time to make your requests.¡±


    I met her gaze, a flicker of gratitude passing through me for her straightforwardness. ¡°I¡¯ll consider it. But for now, I¡¯ll rely on my own team.¡±


    Atropos nodded, her expression unreadable. ¡°Very well. Keep me updated on your progress. And... be careful.¡±


    I stood, giving her a small nod before turning to leave. As I exited the office, Selena was already waiting, leaning casually against the wall.


    ¡°So,¡± she drawled, popping her gum, ¡°what¡¯s the verdict?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re heading to the Outer Zone,¡± I said, my voice firm. ¡°The Saint¡¯s waiting.¡±


    And we''d need a backup.

 58 The Final Hunt

    Selena was driving with uncharacteristic gentleness, her usual recklessness replaced by an unspoken awareness of the gravity of the situation. I leaned back in the passenger seat, pulling out my phone and dialing Leora¡¯s number. It rang twice before her familiar voice answered, steady but tinged with a hint of concern.


    ¡°Hey, sweetheart,¡± I began, keeping my tone light but earnest. ¡°Remember when you told me to call you if there was ever a really tough fight?¡±


    There was a brief pause on the other end, then her voice came through, resolute. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s almost finished,¡± I explained. ¡°There¡¯s only one last fight left.¡±


    ¡°Time and place.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting at the Company,¡± I said, already typing out the address in a text message. ¡°I¡¯ll send the address to you.¡±


    Leora didn¡¯t say another word, simply hanging up. I finished the text and hit send, staring at the screen for a moment before slipping the phone back into my pocket.


    Selena glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, her usual playful smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Whoa~! Is it really necessary to call in your wife for this? I mean, I get it¡ªshe¡¯s a powerhouse in her own right, but isn¡¯t this overkill? The Elsewhere Cult is already a cornered rat¡­ calling Leora feels like smashing a bug with a wrecking ball.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be the toughest battle yet,¡± I replied, my tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°Trust me on this one. When did I ever lie to you?¡±


    Selena¡¯s smirk faded, replaced by a contemplative silence. She had been around long enough to know that I didn¡¯t throw words like that around lightly.


    In terms of mobility, the Saint had been easier to locate than the Prophet. But that was the only thing easier about the Saint. The reason the Saint hadn¡¯t been caught sooner was simple: the Saint was hideously powerful. Not one Hunter who had gone after the Saint lived to tell the tale.


    I hadn¡¯t spread that information around, though, and for good reason. The more people knew about the Saint¡ªits appearance, name, personality¡ªthe stronger it became. That was part of the danger.


    But that wasn¡¯t all. The real threat lay in the fact that the Saint had merged with the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s god, a cryptid of immense power. My thoughts drifted to Leora as Selena drove. I could trust her with this, and I needed her by my side. No one else could face what was coming.


    Back when this world was just a novel to me, Leora was meant to become one of the strongest beings, on par with the Seven Extremes. If I hadn¡¯t written her off as a discarded character, she¡¯d probably have been strong enough to solo the entire series. That was how biased I¡¯d been when I created her¡ªa walking deus ex machina that didn¡¯t fit the story I wanted to tell at the time.


    Now? It felt shitty, to say the least. She wasn¡¯t just some discarded concept anymore; she was my wife. A powerhouse, yes, but also someone I¡¯d come to rely on in ways I hadn¡¯t foreseen. It was ironic, in a way, that the woman I¡¯d once written out of existence had become the one person I could trust with my life and the life of our son.


    Selena pulled up to the Company building, parking the car with her usual flair¡ªtoo fast, too sharp, and with a squeal of tires that probably annoyed the security staff. We stepped out, the crisp air of the city brushing against my face as we made our way inside.


    Reina was in my office, seated at my desk with perfect posture, meticulously organizing files on the holographic display. She was the picture of efficiency, her fair features serene as her fingers danced across the interface.


    She glanced up as we entered, her eyes sharp and calculating. ¡°Father,¡± she greeted, her voice even. ¡°Welcome back.¡±


    ¡°Reina,¡± I began, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down. ¡°I¡¯ll be gone for some time. Selena¡¯s coming with me. We¡¯re heading to the Outer Wall.¡±


    Her brows furrowed slightly, the faintest hint of concern crossing her face. ¡°Understood. What are your instructions for the Company in your absence?¡±


    ¡°Suppress any information about my location and the location of our quarry,¡± I said. ¡°That means tampering with the Association¡¯s records and causing enough chaos to throw them off the trail. I don¡¯t want to spook the Elsewhere Saint.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Reina¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, her disapproval subtle but palpable. ¡°Understood. I will handle the necessary obfuscations. However, I must point out that tampering with the Association¡¯s records will not go unnoticed forever.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m counting on that,¡± I said. ¡°But by the time they figure it out, this will be over.¡±


    She nodded, her expression returning to its usual calm. ¡°I will ensure the operation runs smoothly in your absence.¡±


    Selena leaned against the doorframe, popping her gum with an exaggerated snap. ¡°You really trust this Saint business to your wife, huh? Bold move. But hey, I¡¯m just here for the ride.¡±


    I shot her a look. ¡°You¡¯re here because you¡¯re useful.¡±


    Selena smirked, unbothered. ¡°Useful and charming. A deadly combination.¡±


    Reina ignored the banter, her focus already back on the holographic display. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, Father, I¡¯ll begin preparations immediately.¡±


    I stood, smoothing out my jacket. ¡°That¡¯s all for now. Keep things running.¡±


    Reina nodded, her attention already shifting to the tasks ahead. As Selena and I left the office, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of unease. The pieces were moving into place, but this final confrontation was going to push all of us to the limit.


    The Outer Wall awaited. And with it, the Saint.


    I received a text from Leora. She had arrived and was waiting in the lobby. My pulse quickened, and without a word, I turned toward the elevator. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said, motioning for Selena to follow.


    ¡°Nervous?¡± Selena asked, her tone teasing.


    I realized I was tapping my foot against the floor of the elevator, my impatience betraying me. I forced myself to stop, though my heart didn¡¯t slow down. ¡°It¡¯s been three years,¡± I muttered, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.


    The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped into the lobby. It was quiet, almost eerie, with the emptiness amplifying the sound of our footsteps. There, standing in the center of it all, was Leora. Blonde hair catching the light, blue eyes that still felt like home. She wore a black leather jacket over a simple top and jeans, but my eyes were drawn to her right hand¡ªthe wedding ring she held. I glanced at my own hand, the matching ring still on my finger. Three years apart, but that connection had never faded.


    Before I knew it, we moved toward each other, the distance closing in an instant. And then, instinct took over.


    We kissed. Soft and tender at first, but quickly turning fierce and hungry. Three years of separation, longing, and unspoken emotions poured into that moment. I lifted her effortlessly, placing her on the counter behind her. Her soft moan sent a jolt through me as my hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while her leg brushed against my groin. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and I had no doubt mine were the same.


    ¡°Ahem.¡± Selena¡¯s exaggerated cough cut through the haze. ¡°Get a room, you two!¡± she snapped, her tone half-annoyed, half-amused. ¡°Aren¡¯t we supposed to hunt some cultist saint? Damn it, if you¡¯re going to be this affectionate, you might as well invite me to a threesome!¡±


    Leora pulled back slightly, her lips still swollen, and glared at Selena with a mix of annoyance and amusement. ¡°Maybe if you weren¡¯t so nosy, you wouldn¡¯t have to witness this.¡±


    Selena rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll just be over here, pretending not to exist. But seriously, can we focus on the murderous cryptid cultist we¡¯re supposed to kill?¡±


    Leora chuckled softly, brushing a hand against my jawline. ¡°She¡¯s got a point. Let¡¯s finish this first, then we can pick up where we left off.¡±


    I nodded, my forehead resting against hers for a brief moment. ¡°Deal.¡±


    We stepped back reluctantly, and I adjusted my jacket, my mind already refocusing on the task ahead. But I couldn¡¯t help the small, satisfied smirk tugging at my lips. The Saint was going down tonight, and for the first time in a long time, I felt whole again.


    Selena groaned dramatically, throwing her head back as if the weight of our reunion was too much for her to bear. ¡°Boring! And here I was looking forward to some sexy action,¡± she quipped, a mischievous grin plastered on her face.


    Leora rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. ¡°That¡¯s not funny, Selena. But long time no see, you contrarian vixen.¡±


    ¡°Long time no see, my lady of leather and snark.¡± Selena smirked. ¡°Though, honestly, I don¡¯t know how you put up with this guy.¡±


    We ignored her antics as Leora reached out and laced her fingers through mine. Her hand was warm, steady, grounding. Just that simple connection felt like it was enough to piece together the parts of me that had been fraying for years.


    Selena threw her hands in the air. ¡°This is utterly and painfully ridiculous!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°You two are so sappy I¡¯m getting cavities just standing here.¡±


    I turned to her, raising a brow. ¡°Selena, your opinion is duly noted and ignored.¡±


    She clutched her chest in mock offense. ¡°How cruel!¡±


    I shook my head, then turned to Leora, squeezing her hand gently. ¡°Let¡¯s go Saint hunting,¡± I said, the gravity of our mission pulling me back to the present. ¡°And you¡¯re driving, Leora.¡±


    Leora arched a brow, a playful glint in her eye. ¡°Oh, am I? You sure about that?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. I¡¯d rather not endure Selena¡¯s... unique driving style again.¡±


    Selena let out an exaggerated gasp. ¡°Excuse me? My driving is perfectly fine! It¡¯s not my fault you don¡¯t appreciate the art of drifting through city streets.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not art if you nearly kill us every time,¡± I deadpanned, earning a laugh from Leora.


    Leora smirked, tossing her keys in the air before catching them with ease. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll drive. But if we get into a chase, I¡¯m not promising anything.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said, following her to the car with Selena trailing behind us, muttering something about ungrateful passengers. ¡°I missed you, Leora.¡±


    ¡°Me too, Reynard¡­ Me too¡­¡±

 59 The Walled City

    Leora drove us back to the Hunter¡¯s Association HQ. As soon as we arrived, I cashed in a favor that President Bob owed me. The man didn¡¯t even hesitate, happily granting us access to the World Path¡ªthe teleporting satellite machine designed to bridge unimaginable distances. In a flash, it cut our travel time short and deposited us at the northern entrance of the World Wall.


    It was easy to gain access from there, showing our Hunter License.


    Selena, true to form, had swapped her casual attire for something that screamed "hunter archetype." She now sported dark leather armor reinforced with carbon plating, camo pants, military-style boots, and¡ªof all things¡ªa baseball bat slung casually over her shoulder. I raised an eyebrow at her choice of weapon.


    And I thought she''d abandon it soon.


    ¡°Why a bat?¡± I asked.


    She smirked. ¡°Felt like it. Besides, it¡¯s a classic.¡±


    Her miniaturization technique allowed her to switch gears as she pleased, so it wasn¡¯t a surprise. Leora, on the other hand, kept it traditional. Her katana was strapped securely at her waist, a reminder of her formidable skill. And me? Still in my suit. Weapons? Overrated.


    Leora glanced around as we stepped into the sprawling city. ¡°I haven¡¯t been here in a long time,¡± she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.


    ¡°The Walled City,¡± I replied, taking in the sight. ¡°A city inside the World Wall. It¡¯s my first time here.¡±


    Selena craned her neck to look up at the massive ceiling above us. ¡°Saaaame. Sure looks bright in here. Makes you wonder where all the power comes from to supply the lights. But the ceiling? Damn, that¡¯s gotta be a thousand feet up. Maybe twice that.¡±


    I brought the conversation back on track. ¡°We¡¯ll only be skirting along the Outer Wall and looking for towns or villages. The World Wall is too big to search blindly, but we know our target should be in the northern sector.¡±


    The World Wall was divided into four cardinal directions: North, South, East, and West. The Northern Walled City, where we stood now, served as a bustling hub for hunters, traders, and adventurers.


    The Wall itself wasn¡¯t just a defensive structure; it was humanity¡¯s shield against hostile cryptids, treacherous dungeons, and forbidden regions. But over time, the hunter culture had transformed it into more than just a fortress. Hunters would venture beyond the wall for treasure, glory, or simple survival, and they needed a place to rest, resupply, and trade.


    Thus, the Walled City was born. What began as a modest outpost had grown into a sprawling urban center, constantly expanding as more hunters settled within its confines. Even now, the city thrived, its streets bustling with life.


    Leora¡¯s eyes swept over the vibrant cityscape, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her katana. ¡°Hard to believe this place exists inside the Wall. It¡¯s almost... peaceful.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it fool you,¡± I said. ¡°This is just the surface. The real dangers are out there, beyond the wall.¡± Yeah, I knew better. I always knew better.


    Selena tapped her bat against her palm, her expression unreadable. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, boss? We hitting the villages first, or do we stir up some trouble here to get intel?¡±


    ¡°Villages first,¡± I said firmly. ¡°The Saint¡¯s not likely to be in a populated area. If anything, he¡¯s lurking in the outskirts, somewhere he can keep a low profile. The northern towns will give us a starting point.¡±


    The three of us set off, weaving through the city¡¯s labyrinthine streets.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find an inn,¡± I suggested. It wasn¡¯t like we could set off immediately. Rest would be necessary before we plunged into the unknown. In summary, we¡¯d need a base of operations.


    Leora nodded, her expression softening. ¡°I know a place.¡±


    She moved ahead with a confidence born of familiarity, and I kept pace beside her. Selena hung further back, giving us space. It wasn¡¯t often that I got moments like this with Leora, and I appreciated Selena¡¯s consideration.


    Without thinking, I reached out and held Leora¡¯s hand. She glanced at me, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.


    ¡°So, how¡¯s Leon?¡± I asked, my voice quiet.


    Leora¡¯s eyes lit up at the mention of our son. ¡°Hmmm? I left him with Stefan for the time being. He¡¯ll be safe with him.¡±


    ¡°I know that. That¡¯s not what I mean.¡±


    I had gone to great lengths to ensure Leon¡¯s safety while we tackled this mission. Stefan was reliable, but I hadn¡¯t stopped there. Grue was acting as an additional bodyguard, and I¡¯d even asked Atropos¡ªmy sister in all but blood¡ªto keep an eye on him.


    Leora smirked, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in that mischievous way that always made my chest tighten. ¡°Leon just started kindergarten. Thankfully, he¡¯s managed to refine his aura control... so he shouldn¡¯t accidentally set his school on fire. Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Maybe?¡± I echoed, arching a brow.


    She chuckled softly. ¡°He¡¯s a work in progress, just like his dad.¡±


    I shook my head, but her words brought a warmth to my chest. Leon was growing so fast. I hated missing these milestones, but knowing he was safe¡ªand hearing the pride in Leora¡¯s voice¡ªmade it bearable.


    We continued walking, her hand warm in mine, as the bustling streets of the Walled City began to quiet. Selena followed at a distance, her presence unobtrusive but steady.


    Leora led us to a modest inn tucked away in a quieter part of the city. The sign above the door was weathered, but the building itself looked sturdy.


    ¡°This place hasn¡¯t changed,¡± she said as we stepped inside.


    The innkeeper greeted us with a polite nod, and within minutes, we had our rooms sorted. Leora and I would share one, while Selena took another down the hall.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Rather than an inn, it was more of a hotel suite¡ªthough in hunter culture, the terminology often blurred. The suite was well-furnished, a mix of rugged practicality and modern comforts that suited the transient yet demanding lifestyle of hunters.


    We decided to eat in the room, keeping things simple and private. The food was hearty and filling, designed to fuel hunters for long journeys and tough battles.


    After dinner, the atmosphere shifted. Leora and I gravitated toward each other, the unspoken longing of three years apart pulling us closer. We didn¡¯t dive into anything wild¡ªat least, not at first. Instead, we just cuddled, holding each other close as if to make up for all the nights we¡¯d spent apart.


    We talked. About Leon. About the world. About the lives we¡¯d built in the time we couldn¡¯t share. There was no rush to leave this moment; the Saint could wait.


    But as we talked, the closeness between us began to shift. What started as quiet intimacy soon escalated into something far more passionate. Our hands explored familiar territory, our lips rediscovered each other, and before we knew it, we were lost in each other completely.


    By the time we were done, we were both sweating, panting, and tangled in the sheets. The tension of years apart had been released, leaving us breathless but content.


    In the end, we fell asleep in each other¡¯s arms, the blankets pulled over our still forms. I kissed her forehead softly, whispering, ¡°Goodnight, my love.¡±


    Her breathing was steady, her face peaceful as she rested against me. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the battles ahead, focusing only on the warmth of the woman I loved.


    To surmise¡­ it was cheesy as fuck.


    Worth it.


    Selena¡¯s groan of frustration dragged me from the haze of sleep. I opened my eyes to find her standing in the doorway, glaring at us with her hands on her hips.


    ¡°Oh, fucking great,¡± she said, exasperation dripping from every word.


    I realized I was still naked, tangled in the sheets. Leora, equally uncovered, sat up and grabbed a pillow, chucking it directly at Selena.


    ¡°Hey, this is trespassing!¡± Leora snapped.


    Selena caught the pillow with ease, looking unimpressed. ¡°We¡¯re on a high-stakes mission for the sake of you lovebirds¡¯ peaceful life, and you¡¯re in here making out and fucking each other¡¯s brains out! Do you know how insane that is? Do you know what it feels like to wake up in the middle of the night, panicking, because you¡¯re checking the security bugs you painstakingly set up in your best friend¡¯s room¡ªonly to hear moaning and sexual groaning?¡±


    I blinked at her in disbelief. ¡°Wait, hold on. You bugged the room? I mean, I appreciate the dedication as a bodyguard, but you had to know this was coming eventually. We¡¯ve been apart for three years¡­¡±


    Leora smirked, picking up where I left off. ¡°And obviously, we¡¯d be fucking each other¡¯s brains out the moment we got the chance.¡±


    Selena threw her hands up in exasperation. ¡°Oh, come on! I¡¯m trying to be a good sport here! I even got a lead on where we can start our hunt, so how about you two lovebirds get dressed and focus?¡±


    With a dramatic stomp, Selena turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.


    I turned to Leora, whose smug grin hadn¡¯t faded in the slightest. ¡°Uuh¡­ just checking, are we at fault here?¡±


    Leora shrugged, pulling the sheets up lazily. ¡°Not really. If she didn¡¯t want to hear anything, she shouldn¡¯t have bugged the room. Besides¡­¡± She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. ¡°It was worth it.¡±


    I chuckled, rolling out of bed to start getting dressed. ¡°Let¡¯s not keep her waiting too long. We¡¯ve got a Saint to hunt.¡±


    Leora groaned in mock protest but started getting ready as well. Outside, Selena¡¯s muffled grumbling could still be heard, but I figured she¡¯d survive.


    Five minutes later, Leora and I, now properly dressed and somewhat composed, found ourselves standing in Selena¡¯s room. She sat on the edge of her bed, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.


    ¡°Good,¡± she said, her tone sharp and unimpressed. ¡°The lot of you need to work more. While you two were being intimate¡ªthrowing glances, flirting, and doing God knows what¡ªI was out there actually being productive. Running around inns, spending my credits like a champ, talking people up, buying drinks¡­¡± She leaned back slightly, arms spreading in mock exasperation. ¡°And guess what? I found two leads.¡±


    Leora nodded, her tone calm but genuinely appreciative. ¡°Good work.¡±


    I added, ¡°As expected from Selena. So reliable.¡±


    Selena shot us both a glare. ¡°Shut it. You two sound insincere as hell. Flattery will only get you so far.¡±


    I held up my hands defensively. ¡°No, seriously. I mean it. Without you, we¡¯d still be aimlessly wandering around the Walled City. So¡­ what did you find?¡±


    Selena stood, her posture sharp and businesslike despite the lingering irritation in her expression. ¡°Two things. First, there¡¯s a settlement outside the northern gates of the Walled City. Hunters and scavengers who venture deeper into the Outer Wall have reported seeing strange phenomena. Weird lights, unnatural fog, people vanishing without a trace¡ªthe works. Locals are calling it ¡®The Saint¡¯s Shadow.¡¯¡±


    Leora frowned, crossing her arms. ¡°Sounds like a lead. What¡¯s the second one?¡±


    Selena smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. ¡°A trader I spoke to swore up and down he saw someone matching the Saint¡¯s description. Pale, otherworldly, glowing eyes. Said the guy was heading into the Outer Wall, not too far from the settlement I just mentioned. He seemed terrified just talking about it.¡±


    I exchanged a glance with Leora, her expression mirroring my own mix of intrigue and concern. ¡°Two leads in the same area. Sounds like our best bet.¡±


    Selena nodded, grabbing her gear and slinging her bat over her shoulder. ¡°Exactly. So, are you two lovebirds ready to actually do something, or should I give you more time for cuddling and pillow talk?¡±


    Leora rolled her eyes but smirked, clearly unbothered. ¡°We¡¯re ready. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The Mornlit Village was still a bit of a trek away, and the journey through the Outer Wall wasn¡¯t for the faint of heart. Low-level cryptids often roamed the area, ambushing anyone regardless of size or strength. Worse, sometimes high-level cryptids hid among the weaker ones, making every encounter potentially lethal. This was why traveling in groups was the norm, and why Selena had arranged for us to join the Steel Mountain clan¡¯s caravan.


    As we passed through the northern gates of the Walled City, we showed our Hunter Licenses and Golden Passes to the guards. They gave us a once-over before nodding us through, their expressions a mix of respect and wariness. The gates groaned open, revealing the vast expanse of the Outer Wall beyond.


    The Steel Mountain clan was easy to spot. Their caravan consisted of a rugged-looking truck, two off-road buggies, and several motorcycles. A dozen hunters milled around the vehicles, some double-checking their gear while others chatted or smoked.


    My eyes quickly found their leader¡ªa tall, rough-looking man with a stubble beard and an eye patch. He radiated the kind of seasoned confidence that came from surviving countless hunts. As we approached, he greeted us with a wide grin.


    ¡°Hello there, my fellow hunters!¡± he called out, his voice gruff but friendly. His one good eye settled on Selena before shifting to Leora and me. ¡°Selena, your companions, I presume?¡±


    Selena gave him a curt nod. ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re with me. Don¡¯t worry¡ªthey can handle themselves.¡±


    The man chuckled, crossing his arms. ¡°Good, good. Just hope they don¡¯t mind sitting on top of the truck. Space is tight, and the ride¡¯ll be rough. We¡¯re looking at a two-day journey. Terrain¡¯s rugged in most parts, but we¡¯ve got a stretch of dedicated highway thanks to some volunteers some time back. Good folks, those. Anyway, are we good to go?¡±


    Leora spoke up, her tone calm but firm. ¡°We¡¯ll manage. Thanks for letting us tag along.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± the man replied, extending a hand. ¡°Name¡¯s Bastian, by the way. Leader of this little clan. We¡¯re headed deeper into the Outer Wall for an expedition, but passing through Mornlit Village is on our route.¡±


    I shook his hand, noting the strength in his grip. ¡°Appreciate the help, Bastian. Name¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± he interrupted with a grin. ¡°Names are just noise out here. Let¡¯s focus on keeping everyone alive, yeah?¡±


    Ok. That was on purpose. I wouldn¡¯t believe otherwise.


    Selena smirked. ¡°See? This is why I like Steel Mountain. No-nonsense.¡±


    With that, we loaded up. Leora and I climbed onto the top of the truck, finding a spot among the tied-down crates and supplies. Selena opted for one of the buggies, likely for the thrill of it.


    As the caravan roared to life and began its journey, I glanced at Leora. She was already scanning the horizon, her hand resting on the hilt of her katana.


    ¡°Ready for this?¡± I asked.


    She met my gaze, her blue eyes steady. ¡°Always.¡±


    The truck rumbled beneath us as the caravan picked up speed, the Walled City fading into the distance. Ahead lay the unknown¡ªthe cryptids, the Saint, and whatever else this journey would throw at us.

 60 Mornlit Village

    The truck was modest, stocked to the brim with all sorts of supplies¡ªcrates of rations, medical kits, and an arsenal of weapons. Space was tight, but I squeezed myself beside Leora. The hum of the engine was constant, accompanied by the occasional bump as the vehicle navigated the rough terrain.


    Leora sat with her eyes half-closed, but I knew she wasn¡¯t relaxing. Her voice broke the silence. ¡°Three goblins to our five o¡¯clock,¡± she said, her tone casual. A moment later, she added, ¡°Ah, they dealt with it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even turn to look. ¡°No need to overthink it. The Steel Mountain clan knows what they¡¯re doing.¡±


    She nodded but didn¡¯t relax. ¡°My bad. Just feeling tense. It¡¯s been too long since I¡¯ve been in the field. I¡¯ve learned a lot since my last excursion three years ago, but¡­ My fight with the Oval Mercenary Group was closer than I¡¯d like to admit.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t always be infallible,¡± I said.


    Leora glanced at me, her lips curving into a faint smile. ¡°Wise words. Will you tell me how you became a hunter?¡±


    I hesitated, staring at the horizon. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready to talk about it yet. After this, though¡­¡± I paused, then said firmly, ¡°I want to quit being a hunter. That much I¡¯m certain of.¡±


    She reached over, her hand brushing against mine. ¡°I¡¯ll wait until you¡¯re ready. No need to rush it.¡±


    Her understanding always amazed me. I gave her a small nod, appreciating her patience.


    The hours passed with little incident. Rough travel took its toll, but the Steel Mountain clan proved reliable. As the sun dipped lower, we reached a suitable spot and began setting up camp. Traveling at night beyond the World Wall was asking for trouble. It was necessary for us to always be alert.


    Selena took charge, as always, setting up a tent for the three of us to share. Her preparedness was something I¡¯d come to admire over the years.


    Once the tent was up, she turned to us, arms crossed. ¡°Here are my rules: I let you two idiots sleep in my tent if¡ªand only if¡ªthere¡¯s no lovemaking, flirting, or anything at all. Do you understand?¡±


    I raised a hand in mock solemnity. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Leora smirked. ¡°Sucks to be a third wheel, huh? That¡¯s payback for all the pranks you pulled on me.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Selena grumbled, already retreating into the tent.


    Inside, Selena made sure to place her sleeping bag squarely between mine and Leora¡¯s, clearly determined to enforce her rules. Her scowl was miserable, but I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. Leora, thankfully, behaved¡ªfor Selena¡¯s sanity, if nothing else.


    The Steel Mountain clan took care of security, setting up their own watch rotations. They didn¡¯t seem to mind us keeping to ourselves, though I didn¡¯t leave anything to chance. I conjured imperceptible Soul Strings, spreading them out around our tent like invisible tripwires. If anything tried to approach us, I¡¯d know.


    Lying in my sleeping bag, I reflected on how much had changed in three years. My abilities had grown dramatically, my Soul-based Techniques becoming sharper, more versatile. I now had four active attribute slots and a vast pool of stolen attributes to draw from. My current loadout¡ªConnection, Homing, Perception, and Confusion¡ªwas tailored for survival in the unpredictable wilds beyond the Wall.


    As exhaustion took over, I let my eyes close. Sleep came easily, and I welcomed it. This was only the first day, and the world beyond the Wall was a far tougher place than anything we¡¯d faced so far. I knew that all too well. After all, I wrote this world.


    The rest of the ride to Mornlit Village was surprisingly uneventful. The occasional goblin or hobgoblin would dart out from the underbrush, but the Steel Mountain clan handled them effortlessly. Their leader, Bastian, was particularly reliable¡ªa powerhouse of a Fighter who made quick work of anything that dared cross our path.


    During the quieter moments, I caught snippets of conversation among the clan. Bastian, in particular, seemed fixated on me¡ªor rather, my company.


    ¡°Man, surrounded by beautiful girls, huh?¡± he said, just loud enough for me to overhear. ¡°What are you, some bigshot from the capital? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re one of those untouchable noble types who moonlights as a hunter for kicks.¡±


    I smirked but let him talk. It was all in good jest, even if his tone carried a hint of prickliness.


    Leora, sitting beside me, didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Jealousy doesn¡¯t suit you, Bastian,¡± she called out, her voice teasing.


    Selena, on the other hand, was less forgiving. ¡°Don¡¯t lump us in with him,¡± she quipped. ¡°I¡¯m just here because someone has to babysit this guy.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Bastian chuckled. ¡°Keep telling yourself that.¡±


    The banter helped pass the time, though the rough terrain and the constant jostling of the truck made it hard to relax. By the time the second night rolled around, I was ready for another break.


    We made camp as usual, following the same routine as the night before. I set up my Soul Strings again, just in case, while the Steel Mountain crew rotated their watch shifts. Selena seemed slightly less irritable this time, though she still made sure to keep Leora and me in line.


    ¡°Remember the rules,¡± she warned as we settled in for the night.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Leora gave her a mock salute. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    The night passed without incident, and we resumed our journey at dawn. By the time we finally reached Mornlit Village, it was just around lunchtime.


    The village was nestled in a valley, its wooden buildings sturdy but weathered. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the air carried the scent of freshly baked bread and roasting meat. After two days of nothing but MREs, my stomach growled at the promise of real food.


    I hopped off the truck, stretching out my stiff limbs. ¡°Finally,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡¯m so tired of eating packaged sludge. I could eat something that actually tastes good.¡±


    Leora stepped down beside me, adjusting her katana at her hip. ¡°Let¡¯s hope the local cuisine lives up to your standards.¡±


    Selena was already ahead, talking to one of the villagers who had come out to greet us. The Steel Mountain clan began unloading their supplies, their members fanning out to secure lodging and gather information.


    I glanced around, taking in the sight of the village. It seemed peaceful enough, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the way the villagers moved¡ªfurtive glances, hurried steps. Something wasn¡¯t right here, and I could feel it in my gut.


    ¡°Let¡¯s grab something to eat,¡± I said to Leora. ¡°We¡¯ll need our strength for whatever comes next.¡±


    She nodded, her expression thoughtful. ¡°Agreed. But stay sharp. I don¡¯t like the vibe here.¡±


    Mornlit Village stood out starkly from the scenery we¡¯d seen on our travels. Gone were the lush green vegetation and sprawling trees that dominated the landscape beyond the wall. Instead, towering walls, roughly two hundred feet high, enclosed the settlement like a fortress. The gates were heavily fortified, and we were subjected to a series of meticulous verifications before being allowed entry.


    Once inside, the village¡¯s aesthetic reminded me of frontier towns from Earth¡¯s 17th or 19th centuries, with wooden structures and cobblestone streets. Of course, no one here would get the reference. This world followed a vastly different historical trajectory.


    Leora glanced around, her sharp eyes scanning the area. ¡°That looks like an inn,¡± she said, pointing to a two-story building with a hanging sign that depicted a crescent moon and a steaming mug. ¡°Should we wait for Selena?¡±


    I smirked. ¡°No need. I attached a Soul Link to her. I¡¯ll just tell her to come here.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, impressed. ¡°You can talk through your Soul Links now?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± I replied. ¡°I used the same principles I applied for telepathic communication on the tarot cards. Took some trial and error, but it works.¡±


    Leora¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile. ¡°Impressive. You¡¯ve been busy.¡±


    ¡°Had to be,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°Staying stagnant isn¡¯t an option, not with the kind of life we live.¡±


    She nodded, her expression turning serious for a moment. Then, she gestured toward the inn. ¡°Let¡¯s head inside. It looks cozy enough.¡±


    I reached out with the Soul Link to Selena, sending a simple message: We¡¯re heading to the inn with the crescent moon sign. Meet us there when you¡¯re done.


    A few seconds later, her voice echoed faintly in my mind. Got it. Don¡¯t start without me.


    Leora and I stepped into the inn, and the warmth of the interior was a welcome contrast to the brisk air outside. The place was modest but well-kept, with wooden tables and chairs scattered across a small dining area. A bar lined one wall, and a middle-aged woman behind the counter greeted us with a nod.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± she said. ¡°Looking for a room or just a meal?¡±


    ¡°Both,¡± I replied. ¡°Three rooms if you have them.¡±


    The woman¡¯s gaze flicked between us, then to the door as if expecting someone else. ¡°Three, huh? Let me check what we¡¯ve got available.¡±


    ¡°Separate rooms?¡± Leora raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Sorry, sweetie,¡± I shrugged, feeling a tad guilty. ¡°Focus on the mission¡­ ha ha ha~!¡± My laugh was so fake and Leora knew it.


    Leora and I settled at a corner table while we waited. ¡°I wonder if Selena managed to dig up anything useful already,¡± Leora said, leaning back in her chair.


    ¡°She¡¯s thorough,¡± I said. ¡°If there¡¯s something to find, she¡¯ll find it.¡±


    The door creaked open a moment later, and Selena strode in, her dark leather armor making her stand out among the more plainly dressed villagers. She spotted us immediately and made her way over, her expression unreadable.


    ¡°Well?¡± Leora asked as Selena slid into the seat beside her.


    Selena sighed, leaning her elbows on the table. ¡°I¡¯ve got some good news and bad news. Which do you want first?¡±


    I exchanged a glance with Leora before answering. ¡°Good news.¡±


    Selena smirked faintly. ¡°The good news is, I¡¯ve confirmed our target was here. Not just a rumor¡ªthey were definitely in Mornlit Village.¡±


    Okay, that was a lucky break, right?


    ¡°And the bad news?¡± Leora pressed.


    ¡°They left two days ago,¡± Selena said grimly. ¡°And they weren¡¯t alone. A group of armed mercenaries went with them. Guess where they were headed?¡±


    I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. ¡°Deeper into the forbidden regions?¡±


    Selena nodded. ¡°Bingo. Looks like our hunt¡¯s about to get a lot more complicated.¡±


    The aroma of freshly prepared food filled the air as our meals were served. I wasted no time digging into my curry and rice, savoring the warm, spiced flavors that were a welcome change from the bland MREs we¡¯d been eating for the past two days. Leora, on the other hand, happily munched on her burger and fries, dipping each fry in ketchup with the precision of someone who missed junk food.


    Selena, however, stole the show. She tore into her roasted pheasant like a starved predator, the glint in her eyes making me wonder if she hadn¡¯t eaten in days. She licked her fingers clean with zero shame, earning a few curious glances from nearby patrons.


    Leora reached into her pouch and pulled out a few gold coins to settle the bill. Currency outside the World Wall was an odd mix of practicality and history¡ªgold coins were king. Government-issued Credits, whether in physical or digital form, held little sway in these regions, where the influence of the mundane government was virtually nonexistent.


    As we finished our meals, Selena leaned back in her chair and wiped her hands on a napkin. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get to it. What do we know about the Saint? Combat style? Techniques? Anything?¡±


    Both she and Leora turned their eyes to me expectantly. Of course, they¡¯d look to me¡ªI always seemed to know things.


    I sighed, setting my spoon down. ¡°He¡¯s a Maker-type, probably with a conjuration Gift. Might have Dealer-type as his secondary aura state.¡±


    Leora frowned, trying to piece it together. Selena raised an eyebrow, urging me to continue.


    ¡°As for his abilities,¡± I said, pausing for dramatic effect, ¡°he can summon some kind of eldritch god. In the shape of a truck.¡±


    Leora blinked, utterly speechless. Her fries hovered in midair, forgotten.


    Selena¡¯s expression twisted into sheer bewilderment. ¡°A truck?¡±


    I nodded solemnly. ¡°Capable of partial transformations and all sorts of spatial manipulation.¡±


    Selena¡¯s mouth opened and closed a few times, as though searching for words to process what I¡¯d just said. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me we¡¯re going up against some kind of¡­ eldritch Optimus Prime?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it.¡±


    Leora groaned, rubbing her temples. ¡°Of all the things to be dealing with¡­¡±


    ¡°Welcome to life beyond the Wall,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s never boring.¡±


    Selena shook her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. ¡°Well, at least it¡¯ll be a hell of a story to tell¡ªif we survive.¡±


    Leora sighed, her gaze distant. ¡°What kind of person even comes up with summoning a godly truck? And why?¡±


    I shrugged again, leaning back in my chair. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out soon enough. But one thing¡¯s for sure¡ªthis Saint is going to be anything but ordinary.¡±

 61 The Eldritch Truck

    As unbelievable as it might sound, our foe-to-be could summon an eldritch truck. I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the absurdity of it all. When I wrote the concept of the Elsewhere Cult years ago, inspired by isekai tropes, I¡¯d thought, What¡¯s a more terrifying god than an eldritch truck? It was meant to be a twisted blend of the mundane and the horrific, something that would linger in the imagination. Back then, I thought the idea was dope. Now? Not so much. Facing the reality of it was another matter entirely.


    Selena stood up from her chair, stretching before brushing the crumbs off her lap. ¡°I¡¯m heading to my room to work on my drones. I¡¯ll have them track our quarry. With Leora¡¯s skills, we should be able to catch up to them once I¡¯ve pinpointed their trail. In the meantime, you two snoop around town and find out what our quarry did here in Mornlit. Couldn¡¯t hurt to dig up more leads. I¡¯ll call you back via the tarot card once I¡¯ve got something solid.¡±


    Outside the World Wall, mundane methods of communication like phones or radios were useless. Wave interference, likely caused by the overwhelming presence of dungeons and cryptids, made it impossible. Thankfully, Selena had one of my enchanted tarot cards, which allowed for secure telepathic communication.


    ¡°Copy that,¡± I said, rising from my seat. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Leora.¡±


    Leora beamed, grabbing my arm. ¡°Woohoo~ a date!¡±


    Selena groaned, rolling her eyes. ¡°You two are enjoying this too much. Husband and wife, my ass¡­ You¡¯re acting like you¡¯re still in the honeymoon phase.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°That¡¯s a nice idea. Maybe Leon could use a younger brother or sister.¡±


    Leora jabbed me in the ribs, her face turning crimson. ¡°Shut it. Labor hurts, in case you¡¯ve forgotten.¡±


    I chuckled, rubbing my side. ¡°I¡¯ll just develop a technique to share the pain. Problem solved.¡±


    Selena let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temples. ¡°You sicko lovebirds, get out of my sight!¡±


    Her tone was sharp, but I caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips as she waved us off.


    ¡°Okay, okay, we¡¯re going,¡± I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. Leora and I exchanged amused glances as we left Selena for her work.


    As we stepped out into the bustling streets of Mornlit, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of guilt. ¡°You think we¡¯re at fault this time?¡± I asked Leora, keeping my voice low.


    She laughed softly, lacing her fingers with mine. ¡°Definitely. But it¡¯s part of our charm, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t argue with that.


    ¡°Any ideas where to start?¡± I asked as we strolled down the cobblestone streets of Mornlit Village. The midday sun filtered through a haze of clouds, casting a muted glow over the bustling market square ahead.


    Leora tilted her head, thinking. ¡°If they¡¯re planning an excursion deeper into the forbidden regions, they¡¯d need a lot of supplies. Since they didn¡¯t come from the Walled City, they would have to buy most of what they need here. That means bulk purchases¡ªand that kind of money tends to attract attention.¡±


    I nodded, considering the possibilities. ¡°We could hit the locals and try our luck, see if anyone remembers seeing them. Or maybe we could visit the mayor¡¯s office and request an interview. Official channels might yield something useful.¡±


    Leora frowned slightly, her pace slowing. ¡°That¡¯ll be tough. Believe me, people here in the Outer Wall value their privacy more than anything. They hate snitches, and asking the wrong questions could get us stonewalled¡ªor worse.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. The culture outside the World Wall was fiercely independent, shaped by the harshness of life beyond its protection. Trust wasn¡¯t easily earned, and outsiders poking around could be seen as a threat.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, adjusting my jacket, ¡°if we¡¯re not asking directly, maybe we can get creative. The markets are as good a place as any to start. Big purchases leave trails, and merchants love to gossip, even out here.¡±


    Leora grinned. ¡°Sounds like a plan. Let¡¯s see if we can dig something up.¡±


    We made our way toward the market, the chatter of vendors and customers growing louder as we approached. Stalls lined the square, overflowing with goods¡ªfresh produce, handmade tools, weapons, and all manner of provisions. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meats and spiced stews, mingling with the earthy aroma of leather and wood.


    I scanned the crowd, my eyes narrowing on a large stall near the center of the square. It was stocked with crates of preserved food, water barrels, and other essentials¡ªexactly the kind of supplies an expedition into the forbidden regions would need.


    ¡°Over there,¡± I said, nodding toward the stall.


    Leora followed my gaze. ¡°Looks promising. Let¡¯s see if the vendor¡¯s willing to talk.¡±


    We approached the stall, and the merchant, a stout man with a thick beard and a wide-brimmed hat, greeted us with a practiced smile.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Looking to stock up, travelers? I¡¯ve got the best preserved rations this side of the Wall. Guaranteed to last you through any expedition.¡±


    I returned his smile, keeping my tone casual. ¡°Impressive setup you¡¯ve got here. Actually, we¡¯re just passing through, but I couldn¡¯t help but notice your stall. You must get all kinds of customers.¡±


    He chuckled, leaning against the counter. ¡°That I do. Hunters, adventurers, traders¡ªyou name it. Everyone needs supplies, especially if they¡¯re heading out into the wilds.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± Leora chimed in, her voice smooth and disarming, ¡°we¡¯re curious about a group we heard might¡¯ve come through recently. Big spenders, prepping for a deep excursion. Ring any bells?¡±


    The merchant¡¯s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Professional curiosity,¡± I said quickly. ¡°We¡¯re hunters ourselves, and we might be crossing paths with them out there. Thought it wouldn¡¯t hurt to know who else is in the area.¡±


    He studied us for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve seen them. A group like that isn¡¯t easy to miss. But information¡¯s not free, you know. Out here, everything¡¯s got a price.¡±


    I pulled out a small pouch of gold coins and set it on the counter with a soft clink. ¡°Consider this an investment in our safety¡ªand yours. If we know who we¡¯re dealing with, we¡¯re less likely to cause trouble for anyone else.¡±


    The merchant eyed the pouch, then nodded. ¡°Fair enough. A group like you described passed through a couple of days ago. Bought enough supplies to last them weeks, maybe longer. Paid in gold, no haggling. They didn¡¯t stick around long, though. Headed north toward the forest.¡±


    ¡°Did they say anything about their plans?¡± Leora asked.


    He shook his head. ¡°Didn¡¯t talk much, and I didn¡¯t ask. Like I said, people out here value their privacy.¡±


    I thanked him, slipping the pouch back into my pocket. As we walked away, I turned to Leora. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got a direction to start with. North toward the forest.¡±


    She nodded, her expression thoughtful. ¡°Let¡¯s regroup with Selena and see if her drones have picked up anything. The more information we have, the better prepared we¡¯ll be.¡±


    With a lead in hand and the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the village, we made our way back to the inn, ready to take the next step in our hunt.


    Someone bumped into me hard, almost knocking me off balance. Ragged clothes, panicked steps, and the unmistakable energy of someone in a hurry. I steadied myself, thanks to Leora grabbing my arm.


    ¡°What¡¯s that about?¡± she asked, her sharp eyes following the retreating figure.


    ¡°Pickpocket,¡± I replied, already fishing through my belongings to confirm what had been taken.


    ¡°Should we go after him?¡± Leora¡¯s tone was calm, almost amused. ¡°Kind of amateurish for a pickpocket if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a him,¡± I corrected, pulling out the wallet I¡¯d nabbed from the would-be thief before they could make their escape.


    Leora raised an eyebrow. ¡°You lifted their wallet while they were trying to steal yours? Impressive.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m gettings sloppy,¡± I shrugged and opened the wallet, my gaze landing on the Hunter¡¯s License tucked inside. The photo caught my attention immediately: red hair, brown eyes with a hint of gold, and a youthful face that couldn¡¯t have been more than 18, maybe 17. She looked far too young to be a hunter in this generation, but then again, the world was vast and unpredictable.


    Leora leaned in to get a look. ¡°Do you know her?¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly, I do,¡± I said, holding up the license so she could see the name: Ayla Grayson.


    Leora tilted her head. ¡°Ayla Grayson¡­ sounds familiar.¡±


    ¡°She was... let¡¯s just say a former student of mine, though not officially,¡± I explained. ¡°Back when I was doing an undercover stint, I mentored her for a bit. She had raw talent, but she was reckless, always getting into trouble. Disappeared before she could finish her training.¡±


    ¡°And now she¡¯s pickpocketing hunters in Mornlit Village,¡± Leora said, crossing her arms. ¡°Sounds like she hasn¡¯t exactly turned her life around.¡±


    ¡°Apparently not.¡± I slipped the license back into the wallet and tucked it into my pocket. ¡°Let¡¯s go find her. I¡¯d rather return this directly than let her get caught up in something worse.¡±


    Leora smirked. ¡°Lead the way, mentor.¡±


    We moved through the bustling market, scanning the crowd for any sign of Ayla. Her ragged appearance and striking red hair made her easy to spot. She had stopped a short distance away, leaning against a fruit vendor¡¯s stall, her eyes darting nervously as if she expected someone to be chasing her.


    ¡°There,¡± I said, nodding in her direction.


    Leora followed my gaze. ¡°What¡¯s the plan? Confront her, or are we going subtle?¡±


    ¡°Subtle,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s not make a scene.¡±


    We approached carefully, weaving through the crowd until we were close enough for me to speak without raising my voice. ¡°Ayla.¡±


    She spun around, her eyes wide with alarm. For a moment, she looked ready to bolt, but then recognition flickered across her face. ¡°You?¡±


    I gave her a small smile. ¡°Long time no see.¡±


    Her gaze darted to Leora, then back to me. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I could ask you the same thing,¡± I said. ¡°Last I saw you, you were running out on your training. Now I find you picking pockets in Mornlit Village. Care to explain?¡±


    Her jaw tightened. ¡°I don¡¯t owe you an explanation.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I said, holding up her wallet, ¡°but you left this behind. Figured you might want it back.¡±


    She snatched the wallet from my hand, her movements quick and defensive. ¡°Thanks,¡± she muttered, stuffing it into her bag.


    Leora watched her with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re a hunter, right? What¡¯s a licensed hunter doing running around like this?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s none of your business,¡± Ayla shot back, her tone sharp.


    ¡°It becomes our business when you try to steal from us,¡± I said. ¡°If you¡¯re in trouble, we can help. But you have to be honest with us.¡±


    Ayla hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. ¡°Help? Why would you want to help me?¡±


    ¡°Because I know you,¡± I said simply. ¡°You might have made some bad decisions, but you¡¯re not a bad person. And if you¡¯re in over your head, it¡¯s better to have allies than to go it alone.¡±


    She looked away, her shoulders tense. ¡°I don¡¯t need your help.¡±


    Leora sighed. ¡°You¡¯re stubborn. I like that. But he¡¯s right. If you¡¯re in trouble, you¡¯re not going to get out of it by running around and stealing from hunters.¡±


    Ayla glared at her. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for your opinion.¡±


    Leora raised her hands in mock surrender. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of my tarot cards, holding it out to Ayla. ¡°Take this. If you change your mind, use it to contact me. No strings attached.¡±


    She stared at the card for a moment before snatching it from my hand. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t expect me to call.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± I said, slipping my hands into my pockets. ¡°Stay safe, Ayla.¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond, turning and disappearing into the crowd.


    Leora watched her go, then looked at me. ¡°Think she¡¯ll use it?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I hope so. But knowing her, she¡¯ll probably try to handle things on her own until it¡¯s almost too late.¡±


    Leora smirked. ¡°Sounds familiar.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t argue with that.

 62 A Face in the Shadow

    Ayla Grayson.


    The name stirred memories I had tucked away for some time now. I had mentored her during a three-month undercover mission, one of the more complicated assignments in my career. It hadn¡¯t been a Hunting Dog request, nor even officially sanctioned. No, this one was personal¡ªa favor President Bob himself had asked of me.


    The freedom fighters I infiltrated were no ordinary group. They were training teenagers in aura techniques, turning them into soldiers for their cause. Left unchecked, they were starting to destabilize the government from the shadows, targeting weak points the mundane authorities couldn¡¯t predict or control. Their leader was the reason I¡¯d been brought in: a former Hunting Dog who knew all the tricks of the trade.


    Infiltrating them wasn¡¯t easy. On the first day, I¡¯d kidnapped one of their instructors, successfully impersonating him to take his place. It was a risky play, but it worked. My cover allowed me to move freely within their ranks, learning their plans while keeping an eye on the recruits.


    That¡¯s when I met Ayla.


    She stood out immediately. Not because she was the best¡ªfar from it. She was reckless, brash, and far too na?ve for the world she¡¯d been thrown into. But she had potential. There was something raw and untamed about her aura, and I couldn¡¯t ignore it.


    I gave her special attention, though I had my reasons.


    First, she was on a fast track to getting herself killed¡ªor worse, violated by the same people she trusted. I couldn¡¯t let that happen, not under my watch.


    Second, she was a named character.


    In the novel this world was based on, Ayla was destined to play a significant role. She would eventually become one of the first professors at President Bob¡¯s ambitious Hunter Academy. Her expertise would shape a new generation of hunters. That future wasn¡¯t something I could risk altering.


    Still, our time together had been brief, and I hadn¡¯t expected to see her again¡ªespecially not like this.


    Leora¡¯s voice snapped me back to the present. ¡°You gave her the Judgment tarot card, huh?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°It suits her.¡±


    Leora crossed her arms, smirking. ¡°What did she steal from you?¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t,¡± I admitted, pulling a small object from my pocket. ¡°I thought she did, but¡­ she didn¡¯t.¡±


    I held up the pitch-black ring, letting it catch the dim light of the tavern.


    Leora frowned, leaning in for a closer look. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°She planted this on me,¡± I said, turning the ring over in my fingers. Its surface was smooth, almost unnaturally so, and it gave off a faint, unsettling aura. ¡°Any ideas what it is?¡±


    Leora shook her head. ¡°Not a clue. But if she went through the trouble of planting it on you, it¡¯s probably important.¡±


    ¡°Important or dangerous,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Maybe both.¡±


    I focused my aura, channeling it into the ring to get a better read. It responded immediately, pulsing faintly in my hand. Whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t ordinary.


    ¡°Definitely enchanted,¡± I said, frowning. ¡°But the signature is strange. It¡¯s not her aura. Someone else made this.¡±


    Leora¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Think it¡¯s a tracker?¡±


    ¡°Could be,¡± I admitted. ¡°Or a curse. Either way, I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°We should get it checked out,¡± Leora said. ¡°Selena might know something. Or we could take it to a blacksmith or enchanter in the village.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± I pocketed the ring, my mind racing with possibilities. Ayla had always been resourceful, but this was something else entirely. What had she gotten herself into?


    Leora leaned back, studying me. ¡°You¡¯re worried about her, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I am,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s not just some random kid. She¡¯s¡­¡± I hesitated, searching for the right words. ¡°She¡¯s important. To this world. To its future.¡± I knew I was self-rationalizing at this point. Truth was¡­ Ayla Greyson didn¡¯t matter to anyone.


    Leora¡¯s smirk softened into a small smile. ¡°You always did have a thing for strays.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°She¡¯s not a stray. She¡¯s a survivor. And if she¡¯s in trouble, I¡¯m not going to sit back and let her face it alone.¡±


    Leora nodded, her gaze thoughtful. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s deal with the ring first. Then we can figure out what Ayla¡¯s really up to.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± I said, rising from my seat. ¡°Let¡¯s find Selena. If anyone can help us make sense of this, it¡¯s her.¡±


    When it came to side-quests, I hadn¡¯t always appreciated their value. Most of the time, they felt like distractions from the main goal, pulling me into tangents I¡¯d rather avoid. But this? This was different.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Ayla Grayson wasn¡¯t just some side character in the tapestry of this world. She was personal.


    She had a bright future ahead of her¡ªone I knew because of the novel this world was based on. But my presence, the favors I¡¯d given, and the ripple effect of my actions might have already altered that path. For all I knew, I¡¯d set her on a trajectory that could lead to something worse than her already tragic backstory.


    The thing was¡­ that backstory hadn¡¯t even happened yet.


    In the novel, Ayla¡¯s early struggles shaped her into the resilient, sharp-witted woman who would go on to change lives as a Hunter Academy professor. But in this timeline, where I existed as an anomaly, those struggles were still in the future.


    That meant there was still time.


    It was why I¡¯d taken her training seriously during my undercover mission. Sure, I helped the other conscripted kids, but I¡¯d been especially harsh on Ayla. Not because I wanted to break her spirit¡ªquite the opposite. I wanted to make her strong enough to survive what was coming.


    But it seemed she hadn¡¯t wanted my help. Not back then, and certainly not now.


    As we stepped into Selena¡¯s temporary workshop (her room in the inn), she looked up from her gear, an eyebrow raised.


    ¡°That was fast,¡± she said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. ¡°You lot are back too quickly. I just finished setting up my equipment and sending the drones out.¡±


    Leora smirked. ¡°What can I say? We¡¯re efficient.¡±


    Selena didn¡¯t buy it. Her sharp gaze flicked between the two of us before settling on me. ¡°What happened?¡±


    I reached into my pocket and pulled out the black ring, holding it out for her to see. ¡°This.¡±


    Selena frowned, wiping her hands on her pants before taking the ring. She turned it over, inspecting it closely. ¡°Where did you get this?¡±


    ¡°Ayla Grayson planted it on me,¡± I said.


    Selena¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Ayla? The same Ayla you¡¯ve mentioned before? The one you mentored?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°The very same.¡±


    Selena let out a low whistle, still examining the ring. ¡°And she¡¯s here? What are the odds of that?¡±


    ¡°Too high for comfort,¡± I muttered. ¡°She¡¯s up to something, but I don¡¯t know what. And this ring¡­ it¡¯s not ordinary.¡±


    ¡°No kidding,¡± Selena said, pulling out a small scanner from her equipment bag. She placed the ring on the scanner¡¯s surface and powered it on. The device hummed softly as it began analyzing the object.


    Leora leaned against the wall, arms crossed. ¡°So, what¡¯s the verdict? Tracker? Curse? Explosive?¡±


    Selena glanced at her, smirking. ¡°Patience, oh wise and cautious one. Let me work.¡±


    The scanner beeped, and Selena¡¯s smirk faded as she read the results.


    ¡°Well?¡± I asked, tension coiling in my chest.


    ¡°This thing¡¯s layered,¡± Selena said, her voice unusually serious. ¡°It¡¯s definitely enchanted, but it¡¯s not just one enchantment. There¡¯s a concealment spell, a tracking function, and¡­¡± She hesitated, her brow furrowing.


    ¡°And what?¡± Leora pressed.


    Selena looked up, meeting my eyes. ¡°And something else. Something I can¡¯t identify.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. ¡°Just what we needed¡ªmore mysteries.¡±


    Selena handed the ring back to me, her expression grave. ¡°Whatever this is, it¡¯s tied to something big. Be careful with it.¡±


    ¡°Careful is my middle name,¡± I said dryly, pocketing the ring.


    Leora snorted. ¡°Sure it is.¡±


    Selena rolled her eyes. ¡°In the meantime, I¡¯ll keep the drones running. They should pick up any unusual activity in the village. You two keep digging. If Ayla¡¯s here, she¡¯s not here for nothing.¡±


    I nodded, already planning our next move. Ayla¡¯s sudden appearance, the ring, and the layers of enchantments¡ªit all pointed to something much larger than a simple reunion.


    And I had a sinking feeling that whatever was coming, we weren¡¯t ready for it.


    The afternoon was a blur of conversation, negotiation, and the occasional bribe. Leora led the way with practiced ease, navigating the tangled web of hunters, traders, and opportunists who made up Mornlit Village¡¯s social fabric.


    I deferred to her experience without hesitation.


    No matter how infamous I¡¯d become or how capable I thought I was, my three years of fieldwork were nothing compared to Leora¡¯s seasoned expertise. She moved through the village like a force of nature, knowing exactly who to talk to, what to say, and how to coax the truth out of even the most tight-lipped locals.


    For me, staying by her side was equal parts fun and educational. Leora had a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, which she wielded with precision. Watching her work was like attending a masterclass in information gathering.


    By the time night fell, we¡¯d gathered plenty of intel¡ªthough much of it felt like chasing smoke.


    The elusive figure we were after went by the alias Ulrich. No one seemed to agree on what he looked like. Some claimed he was a pale nobleman with a haughty air, while others swore he was a decrepit old man. A few described him as a young boy, while others insisted he was a cute little girl or an androgynous hunter. The conflicting descriptions were frustrating, but they also told us one thing: Ulrich was odd. Uncanny. Odd. Disfigured. It was more of a sixth sense thing than anything substantial.


    Then came the breakthrough¡ªan unexpected gem of a lead from the most unlikely source.


    Leora and I had been talking to a group of teens hanging out near the marketplace, mostly hoping for scraps of gossip, when one of them¡ªa scrawny kid with an oversized camera slung around his neck¡ªproduced something incredible.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen this guy you¡¯re looking for,¡± he said, his voice cracking with excitement. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t know for sure, but check this out!¡±


    He fumbled with his camera, pulling up a picture on the screen. The image was grainy, clearly taken in haste, but it was unmistakably a person.


    In the center of the frame was a heavyset man wearing thick glasses, his face mid-transformation into something grotesque. His skin seemed to be sloughing off in patches, revealing a dark, glistening substance beneath.


    Leora stared at the image, her lips curling into a bemused smile. ¡°So¡­ Otaku A, huh?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the absurdity. ¡°He really does look like the clich¨¦, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    The kid beamed at our reactions, clearly proud of his contribution. We compensated him generously¡ªmore than he probably expected¡ªand he practically skipped away, leaving us with the magically developed picture. The camera had been a Maker artifact.


    As we walked back toward Selena¡¯s base, I glanced at the image again, trying to reconcile it with the scattered descriptions we¡¯d heard earlier. ¡°You think this is really him?¡±


    Leora shrugged. ¡°Could be. The transformation fits with the whole ¡®conjurer with eldritch ties¡¯ thing you mentioned. But we can¡¯t be sure until we find him.¡±


    I nodded, slipping the photo into my pocket. ¡°At least we¡¯ve got something concrete now. It¡¯s better than chasing shadows.¡±


    Leora¡¯s smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. ¡°True. But don¡¯t let your guard down. If this Ulrich is as dangerous as he seems, he¡¯s not going to make it easy for us to find him. And if he¡¯s connected to Ayla in any way¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t need her to finish the sentence. Ayla¡¯s sudden reappearance and the ring she¡¯d planted on me were already complicating matters. If she was involved with Ulrich, directly or indirectly, it could mean trouble for everyone.


    For now, though, we had a lead¡ªa face to match the name.


    And tomorrow, we¡¯d start hunting in earnest.

 63 The Hunt Narrows

    As we made our way back to the inn, the streets of Mornlit Village were eerily quiet. The occasional flicker of torchlight cast long, wavering shadows across the cobblestone paths. I kept my senses sharp, ever aware of the strange tension in the air. Leora walked beside me, her gaze fixed ahead, but I could tell her mind was racing.


    ¡°We should run a facial recognition of this with Selena,¡± I suggested, holding up the picture we¡¯d obtained. ¡°She has advanced access to the Hunter¡¯s Association database. If anyone can track this guy, it¡¯s her.¡± I have no idea what learning this guy¡¯s civilian life would help us.


    Leora nodded, though her expression remained pensive. ¡°A good start as any. We got lucky this time... That kid¡¯s camera was a Maker artifact, capable of parsing aura from aura. I¡¯m almost certain the picture is accurate, and we¡¯ve got Ulrich¡¯s real face for the first time.¡± She sighed. ¡°I regret not being able to buy the artifact from him.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve got what we need. Besides, it¡¯s better that the kid keeps it. Looks like it was a family heirloom to me and you wouldn¡¯t want to be cursed by an artifact of all things.¡±


    Leora hummed in agreement, though she still looked uneasy. As we walked, we reviewed what we¡¯d gathered so far.


    ¡°Mercenaries, huh?¡± I said, breaking the silence.


    Leora folded her arms. ¡°We can¡¯t be too sure. Maybe there are cultists among the people protecting him.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Testimonies indicate otherwise. Remember that sleazy rat who claims to have overheard their conversation?¡±


    ¡°You really believe him?¡± she asked skeptically. ¡°It sounded outrageous. Ten billion credits? That¡¯s an insane amount.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I admitted, ¡°but I¡¯ve been working on a Lie Detection feature for my techniques. It¡¯s not perfect yet, but it¡¯s functional enough to know that rat was right on the money.¡±


    Leora¡¯s brows furrowed as she processed this. ¡°If Ulrich does have that kind of money, he¡¯d definitely hire professionals. Heavy hitters.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said. ¡°There were three mercenaries he hired. That¡¯s all we know so far. But we¡¯re already outnumbered from the outset.¡±


    Leora stopped walking and turned to face me, her expression serious. ¡°I don¡¯t feel good about that ring Ayla gave you. Maybe you should discard it. She might have been your student once, but that¡¯s it. You don¡¯t owe her anything.¡±


    I pulled the black ring from my pocket, holding it between my fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I reassured her. ¡°I¡¯ve made countermeasures. Embedded Soul Links, bound it with a Soul Chain. It¡¯s harmless¡ªfor now.¡±


    Leora¡¯s gaze lingered on the ring for a moment before she sighed and continued walking. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I usually am,¡± I teased, slipping the ring back into my pocket.


    The inn came into view, its warm glow a welcome sight after the long day. Selena would already be waiting for us, no doubt surrounded by her drones and tech. As we stepped inside, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the hunt for Ulrich was about to get a lot more dangerous.


    We knocked on Selena¡¯s door, and her voice came through almost immediately. ¡°Come in.¡±


    The door creaked open, and we stepped into what could only be described as organized chaos. It was a single-person room, and it showed¡ªbarely enough space for the bed, a small desk, and a chair. With Selena¡¯s equipment taking up most of the floor, it felt like stepping into a miniature tech lab.


    Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a bright glow over everything. It was a stark contrast to the torchlit streets outside, and for a moment, I had to blink to adjust. Selena had clearly gone all out. Two massive crates sat against the far wall, their surfaces humming faintly with energy. Beside them was a vending machine-looking contraption that instantly caught my attention.


    I gestured toward it. ¡°That¡¯s new. What is it?¡±


    Selena didn¡¯t even glance up from her tablet. ¡°Looks familiar, doesn¡¯t it? The Association uses similar devices for pit stops and teleportation pads deeper in the forbidden regions. This one¡¯s customized.¡±


    Ah, the same thing back in the Fighting Tower.


    I gave a low whistle of appreciation. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d think you were a Maker.¡±


    Selena smirked but didn¡¯t respond immediately, her focus still on her tablet. Leora wandered closer to the crates, inspecting them with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Leora asked, leaning against the wall to give Selena some space.


    Selena finally looked up, her expression a mix of triumph and exhaustion. ¡°I managed to track them. They¡¯re nearby¡ªclose enough that we won¡¯t lose them easily. But here¡¯s the thing: they¡¯re stationary for now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡± I asked, stepping closer. ¡°Means we can plan our approach.¡±


    Selena nodded but raised a hand. ¡°Sure, but I suggest we call it a night and get some sleep first. No point rushing in when we¡¯re tired. They¡¯re not moving, and we¡¯ll need to be at our best if things go sideways.¡±


    Leora glanced at me, clearly weighing the suggestion. ¡°She¡¯s got a point. Pushing ourselves too hard now could backfire.¡±


    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Selena¡¯s reasoning was sound, but the thought of sitting idle when our quarry was so close grated on me. Still, I knew better than to argue when she was right.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I relented. ¡°But let¡¯s be up at dawn. If they¡¯re stationary, they might be planning something. I don¡¯t want to give them a chance to slip away.¡±


    Selena nodded, already turning back to her work. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll keep monitoring them through the night. If anything changes, I¡¯ll wake you up.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Leora pushed off the wall, stretching lazily. ¡°Guess that settles it. I¡¯m heading to bed. Try not to stay up too late, Selena.¡±


    ¡°Noted,¡± Selena replied, her tone dry but amused.


    As we left the room and headed toward our own, I couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead. Ulrich was close¡ªcloser than he¡¯d ever been. But the mercenaries he¡¯d hired, the insane bounty on his head, and the unknown factor of Ayla¡¯s involvement made this more than just another hunt.


    Tomorrow, things would come to a head. And I wasn¡¯t sure if we were ready for what we¡¯d find.


    Sleep didn¡¯t come easy. The room felt too quiet, too still, and the absence of Leora¡¯s steady presence only amplified it. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally giving up. With a sigh, I got dressed and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.


    The mess hall was quiet but not empty. A few night owls lingered at the tables, nursing mugs of coffee or bowls of stew. It was surprisingly cozy for a place so far outside the World Wall. I ordered myself a coffee and some snacks, choosing a seat near the back where I could think in peace.


    I had barely taken a sip of the bitter brew when Selena walked in. She looked tired but alert, her smartwatch glowing faintly on her wrist. Without a word, she ordered her own coffee and joined me at the table.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep?¡± I asked.


    Selena smirked. ¡°Says the guy sitting here at¡ªwhat, two in the morning? You first.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I admitted. ¡°The usual. Too much on my mind.¡±


    She nodded, taking a slow sip from her mug. ¡°Lately, I¡¯ve been sleeping less and less anyway. Comes with the territory.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Territory, or your aura technique?¡±


    ¡°Both,¡± she admitted, leaning back in her chair. ¡°You don¡¯t push boundaries without consequences. I¡¯ll sleep when I¡¯m dead.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not exactly comforting.¡±


    She waved me off. ¡°Relax. I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the faint hum of the mess hall¡¯s fluorescent lights filling the air. Finally, Selena broke the quiet.


    ¡°I ran the picture that Leora provided,¡± she said, her tone businesslike. ¡°Cross-referenced it with the Hunter¡¯s Association database and every known civilian record I could get my hands on.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Nothing. No matches. If this is really Ulrich, then he probably didn¡¯t even have a civilian life to begin with. He¡¯s a ghost.¡±


    ¡°That tracks,¡± I muttered. ¡°Everything about this guy feels...off. Like he doesn¡¯t belong in any system.¡±


    Selena nodded, her expression grim. ¡°Exactly. Whoever he is, he¡¯s good at covering his tracks.¡±


    A thought struck me, and I frowned. ¡°Not to sound like an ass, but if you¡¯re here drinking coffee with me, how are you monitoring them?¡±


    She gave me a flat look. ¡°You are an ass.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    She sighed, tapping her smartwatch. ¡°The drones¡¯ video feed is synced to this. I can keep an eye on them from anywhere. Happy now?¡±


    I raised my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Point taken.¡±


    Selena smirked but didn¡¯t say anything more, taking another sip of her coffee. For a moment, I studied her. The lines of exhaustion around her eyes, the subtle tension in her posture¡ªshe was pushing herself harder than usual. I wanted to ask why but held back. She¡¯d tell me when she was ready.


    Instead, I leaned back in my chair and stared into my mug. ¡°You think they¡¯re still stationary?¡±


    ¡°Unless they¡¯ve figured out how to jam my drones, yeah. They¡¯re still at the same spot.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then we¡¯ve got a chance to catch them off guard.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she said, her voice cautious. ¡°But don¡¯t underestimate them. If Ulrich¡¯s got mercenaries, they¡¯re not going to be amateurs.¡±


    I nodded, the weight of the situation settling over me again. ¡°Yeah, I know. But we¡¯ve got you, Leora, and me. We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    Selena didn¡¯t respond immediately, her gaze distant. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer. ¡°Just don¡¯t get reckless, okay? This guy¡¯s dangerous. I don¡¯t want to lose anyone.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said, trying to lighten the mood. ¡°You¡¯re stuck with me, remember? No way I¡¯m letting Ulrich get the best of us.¡±


    She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. ¡°You¡¯re such an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m your idiot.¡±


    She laughed quietly, shaking her head. ¡°Go get some sleep, idiot. We¡¯ve got a long day ahead.¡±


    I finished my coffee and stood, giving her a mock salute. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Few minutes later¡­


    The cool night air brushed against my face as I stood on the inn¡¯s balcony, a cigarette dangling from my lips. The distant hum of the village¡¯s nightlife was muted here, leaving only the faint rustle of wind and the occasional creak of wood underfoot. I inhaled deeply, letting the acrid smoke fill my lungs before exhaling a thin plume into the darkness. It wasn¡¯t a habit I indulged often, but tonight, I needed it.


    ¡°Really?¡± a familiar voice called from behind me. ¡°Smoking?¡±


    Selena stepped onto the balcony, arms crossed and an amused smirk tugging at her lips.


    Ok¡­ great, a stalker. ¡°Are you shadowing me now?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re becoming too obvious,¡± she said, leaning against the railing beside me.


    I frowned, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. She wasn¡¯t wrong. Lately, it seemed like Selena could read me better than my own wife. Maybe it was the shared weight of the hunter life, the battles, and the bloodshed that bonded us. Or maybe I was just that transparent.


    ¡°Of course, you¡¯d be out here brooding,¡± she continued, her tone light but her eyes sharp. ¡°Must have a lot on your mind. Your wife¡¯s here, and yet you¡¯re thinking about running again. Can¡¯t decide whether to stay or go, huh?¡±


    Her words hit a little too close to home. I took another drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke linger before answering. ¡°Why do you stick around, Selena? You could¡¯ve walked away a long time ago.¡±


    She shrugged, the motion casual but her gaze unwavering. ¡°For Leora, obviously. Sisterhood and all that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that crap,¡± I shot back. ¡°You made a deal with Bob, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Her smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. But it¡¯s not just that.¡± She hesitated, glancing out over the city before continuing. ¡°Do you remember the Hunter Licensure Examination? When Silhouette showed up?¡±


    I nodded. How could I forget? Silhouette, the enigmatic figure shrouded in darkness, had made an impression on everyone that day. ¡°He¡¯s my dad,¡± she said, her voice quieter now. ¡°Not that he¡¯d admit it. Maybe that¡¯s why I¡¯m still here. I thought if I helped you, if I stayed close, maybe he¡¯d notice. Maybe I¡¯d matter.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. I thought of Loki, the supposed clone of Silhouette, Selena¡¯s half-brother in a way. The tangled web of their family made my own problems seem almost simple. I didn¡¯t bring it up, though. It wasn¡¯t my place. Instead, I took another long drag, letting the silence stretch between us.


    ¡°You¡¯re immune, aren¡¯t you?¡± Selena asked suddenly, her tone shifting.


    I froze, the cigarette burning low between my fingers.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re suffering,¡± she pressed. ¡°The Hunting Dogs have protocols. They wipe memories after every mission, keep their agents clean. But you¡­ you remember everything. Was it worth it?¡±


    I exhaled slowly, the smoke curling into the night. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°Every time I wake up, I feel dirty. Sure, I get to kill cultists, but I¡¯ve also been forced to kill people I didn¡¯t want to. Turns out the Hunting Dogs don¡¯t just answer to the President. They¡¯re bigger than I realized, and their leash is tighter than I ever thought.¡±


    Selena¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And yet, you stay.¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯ve made countermeasures. Once this is over, I¡¯m leaving. I¡¯m done with the Hunting Dogs, with all of it. And if you want, I can set something up for you too. No need to be shackled to them¡ªor to Silhouette.¡±


    She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, she smiled¡ªa real one, not her usual smirk. ¡°That¡¯s sweet of you. But honestly? You should be more worried about yourself right now. Get some sleep. Hell, go spend time with your wife. Blow off some steam.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the irony. After all her complaints, she was telling me this now?


    ¡°Nah,¡± I said, stubbing out my cigarette on the railing. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep. We¡¯ve got a slaughter waiting for us tomorrow.¡±


    She nodded, stepping back toward the door. ¡°Damn right we do. Good night, idiot.¡±


    ¡°Good night, Selena.¡±


    As she left, I lingered on the balcony a moment longer, letting the night air clear my head. Tomorrow would be brutal. But for now, I let myself breathe.

 64 Into the Abyss

    It was a trap.


    My breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, each inhale sharp and desperate. Blood poured freely from the stump where my left arm had once been, and the pain throbbed with every beat of my heart. Selena''s lifeless body rested in my remaining arm, her chest a mangled ruin, her blood soaking into my torn jacket. Her dull eyes stared up at the stars above, their light mocking the loss of her spark.


    Leora was gone. I didn¡¯t know if she was dead or alive, but I¡¯d seen it¡ªUlrich had used spatial manipulation to take her. To where, I couldn¡¯t even guess. My gut twisted at the thought of her fate.


    I crouched low in a shallow pit, barely covered by the rocky outcrop. My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. This wasn¡¯t how it was supposed to go. We had a plan¡ªa damn good one. We had tracked Ulrich to a cliff dwelling, knew the routes he¡¯d take, and prepared for every scenario. Or so I thought.


    I replayed the moment over and over, each scene burned into my memory like a curse. Selena had rigged the rocky cliffs with her bombs, her precision and ingenuity unmatched. I¡¯d set up Soul Marks imbued with Soul Chains along the pathways, ready to spring them at a moment¡¯s notice. I even borrowed Selena¡¯s sniper rifle and positioned myself on the high ground, confident in my aim.


    Leora, always the blade in the shadows, had crept ahead to block their escape once they were deep enough inside. Everything was perfect. It should have been swift. Deadly. Effective.


    But I¡¯d overestimated myself. No, I¡¯d underestimated them.


    The first sign of disaster came through my scope. I saw him¡ªUlrich¡ªapproaching Leora from behind, moving too fast and too quiet for me to warn her in time. I tried, but the words caught in my throat as something heavy slammed into me from the side.


    Alya.


    Why?


    Her face was twisted with anger and pain, her strikes filled with a ferocity that was all too familiar. I barely managed to defend myself before another woman appeared, her blade glinting in the moonlight. She severed my arm in a single stroke. The pain was blinding, but I didn¡¯t have time to process it. I was falling, scrambling to regroup.


    And then Selena¡­


    She detonated the bombs prematurely, collapsing the cliffs and throwing our enemies into chaos. I managed to reach her, but not before it was too late.


    I saw it happen.


    A figure in a plain hoodie and jeans stepped out of the smoke and shadows, faster than I could react. Selena fired her gun, threw her bombs, fought like hell¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t enough. The figure ripped her heart out with bare hands, as if it were nothing.


    I roared, the sound tearing from my throat like an animal¡¯s cry. I drew on the coin I¡¯d won three years ago, tapping into every ounce of aura I had left. Chains lashed out, their metallic echoes filling the night. I fought like a madman, dragging Selena¡¯s body with me, refusing to leave her behind.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough.


    Now I was here. Hiding. My breathing stilled, shallow and controlled, but my mind burned with rage.


    I stared at Selena¡¯s lifeless face. She¡¯d been more than a partner, more than a comrade. She¡¯d been family in a way I couldn¡¯t explain, and now she was gone.


    The pit offered little cover, but I didn¡¯t care. I wasn¡¯t running. I wasn¡¯t retreating. I wasn¡¯t done.


    I gripped the coin in my hand, feeling its warmth, its promise of power. The blood dripping from my stump mingled with the dirt below. My aura simmered, flickering like a dying flame, but it wasn¡¯t extinguished yet.


    I would find Ulrich. I would find Leora.


    And I would make these mercenaries pay.


    ¡°Alya, why?¡± I asked myself for a second time, voicing them out.


    The question lingered in my mind, gnawing at my resolve. I looked down at Selena¡¯s lifeless body, her blood-soaked clothes, and the emptiness in her once-vibrant eyes. Grief twisted in my chest, but another question burned brighter, hotter.


    How am I going to kill them?


    I set Selena¡¯s body down gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. I closed her eyes, not because it brought me peace but because I couldn¡¯t bear to look into them anymore. My focus needed to shift¡ªgrief was a luxury I couldn¡¯t afford.


    The bleeding from my left arm hadn¡¯t stopped completely, but I poured my aura into sealing the vessels and forcing the blood to clot. Pain flared with every pulse of energy, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through. I¡¯d survive. I had to.


    I replayed the fight in my mind, each moment vivid and raw. I knew who they were now. The figure in the hoodie¡ªThomas. The black-haired swordswoman¡ªFatima. Members of the Undead Troupe.


    That was bad. Very bad.


    The Undead Troupe wasn¡¯t just a group of mercenaries; they were an elite band of killers, notorious for their lethality and their refusal to die. Facing one of them was dangerous enough. Facing two¡ªor more¡ªwas suicidal.


    But I wasn¡¯t planning to survive.


    I reached into my pocket and pulled out the copy of tarot card I¡¯d given to Loki, the Troupe¡¯s leader. The image on the card shimmered faintly as I focused my aura into it, forging a telepathic link. ¡°Loki,¡± I called, my voice cold and steady.


    A familiar chuckle echoed in my mind. ¡°Well, well. You don¡¯t usually call unless it¡¯s important. What¡¯s the occasion?¡±


    ¡°Where are Thomas and Fatima?¡±


    The chuckle faded, replaced by a wary tone. ¡°Wow, you know my people¡¯s names, huh? Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Answer me,¡± I growled, my patience razor-thin. ¡°Your life depends on it.¡±


    A pause. Then, ¡°I sent them on a mission. Recruiting a talented hunter. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Loki insisted.


    ¡°Did you send them to bodyguard or work for a man named Ulrich?¡±


    ¡°Ulrich? No. Never heard of him.¡±


    I focused on the faint hum of his soul through the connection. No ripples, no shifts, no signs of deceit. He was telling the truth. But this was a Trickster we were talking about. BUt then again, I would take his word at face value at the very least.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said, my voice like steel. ¡°I don¡¯t have to kill you then.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Loki began, his tone shifting to something more conciliatory. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about this¡ª¡±


    I severed the connection before he could finish. There was nothing more to discuss.


    I stood, adjusting my aura loadout. Connection. Toughness. Sharpness. Swiftness. Four attributes. Four tools for survival.


    I clenched my right fist, feeling the weight of my remaining strength. I was down to one arm, and I was alone. My enemies were in full health, their positions favorable, their confidence unshaken.


    The odds were stacked against me, but odds didn¡¯t matter. Not anymore.


    ¡°How can I kill them?¡± I muttered to myself, the question sharp and clear.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I looked down at Selena one last time, my heart heavy with unspoken promises. Her death wouldn¡¯t be in vain.


    My left arm was gone. Leora was missing. But I was still here.


    And they were going to regret that.


    I crouched low in the crags, every muscle tense as I felt the weight of my choices pressing down on me. My aura pool problem was solved¡ªtemporarily, thanks to the artifact acting as a battery. But my aura output? Pathetically low.


    Without a high output, unleashing any killer moves was impossible. And here I was, surrounded by killers. You¡¯d think three years being a Hunting Dog would help me patch up my flaws, but what it only did was open my eyes to more flaws.


    I regretted not bringing Reina. She wasn¡¯t just a doll; she was my weapon, my edge in battles like this. But I¡¯d grown too soft, too sentimental, seeing her as human rather than the tool she was created to be. This wasn¡¯t the time for regrets or assigning blame. I had to focus.


    The Toughness attribute I borrowed from that tank-like person years ago kept me in one piece, but I could only tap into a fraction of its true potential. Maybe a tenth. Maybe less. Still, my gift was all about combining attributes and crafting techniques on the fly. It wasn¡¯t about raw power¡ªit was about ingenuity.


    I stilled my breath, feeling the weight of eyes scanning the area, searching for me.


    A boom echoed in the air. Dust burst from where I had left a black ring embedded in the ground earlier. Ironic, wasn¡¯t it? The distraction worked as intended.


    Thomas.


    He landed heavily, his figure obscured by the swirling dust cloud. My Soul Chains burst from the ground, imbued with altered Toughness and Sharpness attributes. They slashed through the air, cutting into his clothes and forcing him on the defensive.


    This was my moment.


    I pumped my aura, activating Swiftness, and launched myself toward the source of the eyes I had felt before. I moved fast, silent, and precise.


    Fatima.


    The black-haired woman with red eyes stood waiting, her dark katana gleaming ominously. A master of the blade and a gravity manipulator, she was deadly. But so was I.


    Dark bluish strings flowed from my remaining hand, shimmering with aura. Every breath I took fortified the Toughness of my strings. Every breath I exhaled sharpened them to a deadly edge.


    Fatima struck first, her blade a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow. I didn¡¯t need to see her strikes. My aura strings manifested at her sword¡¯s path, blocking the attacks as I willed them into existence.


    Her blade met resistance, sparks flying as it clashed against the web of strings I¡¯d woven.


    I flicked my wrist, unleashing a volley of sharp strings toward her. She tried to evade, but I was faster. Cuts appeared on her arms and cheeks, crimson streaks marking her pale skin.


    I raised my hand with a snap, conjuring a sword made entirely of aura strings, every fiber imbued with the Sharpness attribute.


    ¡°Perish,¡± I commanded, swinging the weapon down with intent to kill.


    A crimson blur came from my blind spot¡ªa fist wreathed in flames and blood.


    I sidestepped just in time, catching a glimpse of her: a woman with a blood-soaked scarf wrapped around her neck, her hands wreathed in fire. I¡¯d placed a Soul Mark on her earlier, and now it saved my life as I could perceived anyone or anything who I have marked.


    She stumbled past me, her momentum sending her skidding across the rocky ground. But she recovered quickly, slamming her palms into the earth. Blood and flames erupted from her body, swirling around her like a macabre dance. The flames coalesced into a spear in her hand, her scarf glowing with violent energy.


    I didn¡¯t let her regain control. I mentally pulled down my conjured sword, slashing toward Fatima with the same motion.


    Fatima deflected it with her katana, her stance unwavering.


    I was running out of time. My aura pool, even with the artifact, wouldn¡¯t last much longer at maximum output.


    I had to end this. Fast.


    Thomas came from the left, a wrecking ball of fury and muscle. He had finally broken free of the Soul Chain, his aura flaring wildly as he charged. His fist, large and glowing with raw power, came crashing down at me¡ªor so he thought.


    The moment his foot landed, a burst of aura shimmered beneath him. Another Soul Mark, this one primed with a fresh Soul Chain, burst upward like a serpent, coiling around his legs and pulling him to a halt.


    I got lucky. Thomas¡¯s straightforward, brute-force approach worked against him.


    Unlike Fatima, who balanced her swordsmanship with the precision of a caster, Thomas was a pure Fighter. No subtlety. No tricks. Just raw, unrelenting power.


    I didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. I charged forward, my conjured sword glowing with sharp blue aura. I swung with all the strength I could muster, aiming for his torso.


    Before the blade could connect, Ayla¡¯s fiery spear came hurling toward me from the side. The heat was oppressive, and the air around it shimmered with the energy of her Blood and Fire attributes.


    ¡°Tsk,¡± I twisted my wrist and parried the spear, the force of the deflection sending a shockwave up my arm. ¡°You are only delaying the inevitable.¡±


    Fatima didn¡¯t miss the opening.


    She rushed in with terrifying speed, her form a blur as she closed the gap. If my eyes weren¡¯t lying, she was manipulating her weight with her gravity gift, making herself light to move faster.


    Her dark katana came slashing at my left side, aiming for the weakness created by my missing arm. I barely managed to twist away, but then the pressure hit me.


    My body grew sluggish, every movement feeling like I was wading through water.


    Gravity.


    She was suppressing me, her gift weighing me down like an invisible hand pressing on my shoulders.


    I couldn¡¯t fight like this. I shifted my attributes, replacing Swiftness and Toughness with Homing and Perception.


    The change was immediate.


    The sluggishness remained, but my perception sharpened, and the battlefield became clear. Every movement, every angle, every opportunity¡ªI saw it all.


    My sword homed to the tip of Fatima¡¯s sword in a blur.


    Fatima¡¯s blade came down in a flurry of strikes, each one precise and unrelenting. I parried, my conjured sword meeting hers in a shower of sparks. The force of her blows reverberated through my arm, but I held firm.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thomas breaking free of the Soul Chain, his aura surging as he prepared to flank me.


    And then there was Ayla, already preparing another spear of fire and blood, the energy swirling in her hands.


    I was in a bind.


    Three opponents, all deadly in their own right, and I was down an arm with my aura pool running dangerously low.


    But this wasn¡¯t over. Not yet.


    I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my attributes shift within me. My Homing strings coiled around my blade, subtly extending its reach. Every parry against Fatima now sent the strings lashing toward her, forcing her to adjust her footing.


    I couldn¡¯t overpower them, but I could outmaneuver them.


    I just had to survive long enough to find an opening.


    I released my grip on the sword, allowing it to dissolve into a circular wave of razor-sharp strings. They whipped outward in a deadly radius of a sphere, forcing Thomas and Fatima to scatter.


    Alya wasn¡¯t as fortunate. The strings tore into her with precision, not enough to kill but enough to cut deep and leave her writhing in pain. She crumpled to the ground, clutching at her wounds, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain would drain her strength, forcing her body to exhaust itself just to stay conscious.


    Switching my Sharpness attribute for Puppetry, I turned my focus back to Fatima.


    She spotted what she thought was an opening and launched herself forward in a burst of black lightning in her boot. It was an instantaneous movement technique. Her blade glowed with an ominous aura, her gravity gift amplifying its weight mid-swing to devastating levels.


    I sidestepped, the blade missing me by a hair.


    Thomas, caught in her trajectory, instinctively raised his arm to parry. The clash of aura-enhanced weapon and fist sent a shockwave through the air, and Thomas retaliated with a roundhouse kick aimed at Fatima¡¯s ribs.


    She barely dodged, the force of the kick grazing her side as she stumbled back.


    Thomas didn¡¯t stop. He pressed the attack, his strikes aimed with brutal efficiency at Fatima.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± he demanded, his voice laced with panic as his movements betrayed his confusion. ¡°W-why can\¡¯t I control¡­ my limbs?¡±


    I allowed myself a grim smile.


    ¡°Let me enlighten you,¡± I said, stepping back to watch the chaos unfold. ¡°Do you know that if you¡¯re subjected to enough Soul Chains, it becomes significantly easier to manipulate you with Puppetry? This is my Soul Marionette! It doesn¡¯t matter how refined your aura control is or how strong your willpower might be. You¡¯re already mine, Thomas.¡±


    ¡°Snap out of it, Thomas!¡± Fatima shouted, her voice desperate as she deflected another of his attacks.


    I danced around them, weaving between the blows as if I were merely a spectator. With every step, I rigged the battlefield further, laying down more Soul Chains and Soul Marks. Fatima was skilled, but her movements were becoming predictable.


    I lured her into a trap, the ground beneath her lighting up with a Soul Mark imbued wiith Soul Chains. Chains erupted around her, coiling tight and slowing her movements.


    Her willpower was impressive¡ªshe lashed out with a powerful strike, the gravity-enhanced blow cracking the stone beneath her feet as she barely missed me.


    Thomas struggled against my control, his body moving like a puppet on strings, his consciousness fighting to regain command.


    Meanwhile, Alya, in a desperate attempt to rejoin the fight, stumbled forward.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have bothered,¡± I muttered.


    With a flick of my mind, I activated my Soul Link with her, siphoning her aura and then flooding it back into her system in chaotic bursts. Her body convulsed as the unstable energy overwhelmed her. Blood seeped from her pores, and she collapsed, choking on the very life force she couldn¡¯t control.


    She wouldn¡¯t die from it¡ªat least, not yet. But she wouldn¡¯t be a threat either.


    ¡°Time to end this,¡± I said, my voice cold.


    Fatima¡¯s body was already wrapped in layers of Soul Chains, her aura steadily drained through the Soul Link I had attached to her earlier. The chains coiled tighter, forming a cocoon that left her immobilized.


    Thomas stood rigid, his limbs jerking unnaturally as he fought against my control. His strength was impressive¡ªhe even managed to break through some of the chains I had placed on him.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough.


    I stepped closer, my gaze locking onto his.


    ¡°Thomas,¡± I said softly, my tone laced with malice. ¡°Rip your heart out for me.¡±


    His eyes widened in terror, his body trembling as my command seeped into his mind. His hand twitched, then moved toward his chest, shaking violently as he fought to resist.


    ¡°You¡¯re strong,¡± I admitted. ¡°But not strong enough.¡±


    His fingers curled into a fist, hovering over his chest, as the chains around his body tightened, pulling him further under my control. Fatima¡¯s muffled screams from within her cocoon only fueled the growing tension.


    The battlefield was silent except for the sound of Alya¡¯s ragged breathing and the faint creak of chains tightening around my enemies.


    I waited, my focus unbroken, as Thomas¡¯s will began to crumble.

 65 The Fight to Be Right

    Emotions. They always responded to aura. It wasn¡¯t just a theory¡ªit was a fact. The only reason I could push my aura output beyond its normal limits and fight back like this was because of the sheer rage coursing through me.


    But rage alone wasn¡¯t enough.


    Fatima shattered the Soul Chains binding her, summoning a small orb of darkness into existence. It pulsed in her hand like a miniature black hole¡ªthough it wasn¡¯t the real thing. If it had been, it would¡¯ve torn her apart.


    Instead, it radiated an amplified gravity that dragged everything around it down.


    Thomas, still under the influence of my Soul Marionette, slammed into the ground, forming a small crater. His chest was bloody from his failed attempt to obey my command to rip out his own heart. Annoying.


    I willed him to push against the crushing force, but his body faltered, collapsing under the weight.


    Ayla staggered to her feet, shaking off the Soul Link I¡¯d planted on her earlier. She seemed unfazed by the increased gravity, her scarlet scarf of blood and flame coiling around her like a living weapon.


    Fatima was more skilled than I¡¯d given her credit for. The precision of her control over the gravity field forced me to adapt. My movements slowed, the pressure bearing down on me like a vice. But I countered it by puppeteering my own body, using the Puppetry attribute to override the strain.


    Ayla launched herself toward me, propelled by the fiery lash of her scarf slamming into the ground.


    ¡°I¡­ I need to join the Undead Troupe!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. ¡°I will avenge my parents!¡±


    It was as if she was begging me to not fight them and allow them to kill me.


    I shifted my attribute loadout: Swiftness, Puppetry, Weakness, and Homing.


    She closed the distance in an instant, but my fist met her face first. The blow landed squarely, guided by Homing.


    Once.


    Twice.


    Thrice.


    Four times.


    Each punch struck with mechanical precision, forcing her backward. Her movements became sluggish, her aura faltering with every hit. The Weakness attribute seeped into her, degrading her aura and physical capabilities further with each impact.


    Ayla flailed, unable to land a hit. She couldn¡¯t outrun my Swiftness, and the Puppetry I used on my own body allowed me to move faster and more efficiently than I ever had before.


    ¡°I told you, didn¡¯t I?¡± I said, my voice calm but cutting. ¡°Revenge won¡¯t serve you well. And now, here you are, fighting your own mentor.¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± she spat, blood dripping from her mouth. ¡°If you cared about me, you should have helped me!¡±


    Her words stung, but I didn¡¯t falter.


    ¡°Approval? Funny¡­ Do you seriously think I will abet to a murder of another human being just because you asked me to?¡±


    Behind Ayla, Fatima stood motionless, likely suffering from an aura backlash after overextending her power. Thomas, however, groaned as he pushed himself up.


    The Soul Marionette technique on him shattered.


    ¡°Fatima!¡± he bellowed, his voice raw with frustration. ¡°Let go of me¡ªI¡¯ve broken his control!¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± I said, glancing at Ayla as I caught her by the throat with my only hand. Her eyes widened in shock as I squeezed, cutting off her air. ¡°You¡¯re right, Ayla. I was at fault. I failed to see things from your perspective.


    ¡°But now I¡¯ve lost my friend. Moreover¡­ My wife¡¯s fate remains unknown. If revenge is justifiable for you, then it should be for me too, shouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Thomas blurred into motion, his speed doubling as he entered superspeed. His hood fell back, revealing an older man with a scar running beneath his right eye.


    I released Puppetry and switched to Connection, creating a Soul Mark beneath my feet imbued with the Homing attribute.


    Thomas zigzagged toward me, his movements erratic and blindingly fast. I leapt backward as he entered my space, baiting him into stepping onto the Soul Mark.


    The moment his foot touched it, the mark activated.


    Thomas struck his foot on the ground attempting to destroy my Soul Chain and Soul Mark.


    But he guessed wrong.


    Instead of a Soul Chain, it created a powerful suction effect. His foot sank into the ground, the sharp edges of the mark digging into him like an anchor.


    Thomas¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he stumbled, his balance completely thrown off. One foot was now, quite literally, in the grave.


    The sight was almost satisfying.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I threw Ayla¡¯s limp form toward Fatima, who had just begun to recover from her backlash. She caught her with a pained grunt, her stance faltering under the weight of the younger woman.


    Switching Weakness for Sharpness, I focused all my remaining aura into my right hand. The attributes of Swiftness and Sharpness merged into a deadly synergy.


    I formed my hand into a blade, a knife-hand strike empowered by the sheer cutting force of my aura.


    Thomas struggled to pull his foot free, but it was too late.


    I lunged forward, my hand slicing through the air in a single, decisive motion.


    ¡°Goodbye, Thomas.¡±


    The strike connected cleanly, severing his head from his body in one swift motion.


    Blood sprayed in an arc, and his body collapsed, lifeless.


    I straightened, turning my gaze to Fatima and Ayla. They both stared at me in horror, the reality of their situation sinking in.


    ¡°This is what vengeance brings,¡± I said, my voice cold and unyielding. ¡°Are you still so eager to pursue it?¡± I stood over the fountain of blood, my hand still slick with blood, my breathing heavy. Thomas¡¯s lifeless eyes stared back at me, unblinking, as if accusing me.


    ¡°Senseless murder¡­¡± I said, my voice hollow. ¡°That¡¯s what this is.¡±


    Ayla and Fatima didn¡¯t respond immediately, their eyes darting between me and the corpse at my feet.


    ¡°Even now,¡± I continued, ¡°I feel empty. There¡¯s no satisfaction, no closure. I hoped for something¡ªbitterness, pleasure, anything. But no¡­ I feel nothing. Just like you two will feel when this is all over.¡±


    Ayla was panting, clutching her side where I¡¯d struck her earlier. Her scarf of blood and fire hung limply around her shoulders, flickering like a dying flame. Fatima stood behind her, trembling, her dark blade still clutched tightly in her hand.


    ¡°Two deaths are already too much for today,¡± I said, turning my gaze to them. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to feel the same pain of losing another¡­ friend. Believe me, Ayla, even after your treachery, I still consider you my pupil.¡±


    Ayla¡¯s eyes widened, her breath hitching, but I raised a hand to silence her before she could speak.


    ¡°But don¡¯t mistake my kindness for weakness. If I ever catch you committing injustice again, I will kill you.¡±


    Ayla forced herself upright, wobbling on her feet. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady.


    ¡°Injustice?¡± she spat, her words sharp despite her exhaustion. ¡°Is hunting you unjust? I see¡­ it¡¯s always the same principle with you. Might makes right. Your words are justice because you¡¯re stronger than me.¡±


    She took a step forward, her bloodstained scarf curling faintly at the edges.


    ¡°You¡¯re as much a murderer as the man you just killed. You¡¯re no different from the Troupe.¡±


    Her words hit like a hammer, but I didn¡¯t flinch. I let them wash over me before answering.


    ¡°No,¡± I said, my voice cold. ¡°The Undead Troupe is better than me. At least they¡¯re honest in their methods. They kill who they want to kill, without pretense or hypocrisy.¡±


    Ayla faltered, her brow furrowing as she tried to parse my words.


    ¡°I¡¯m a hypocrite. I know that,¡± I admitted, my tone heavy with self-loathing. ¡°But you¡¯re wrong about one thing. Might doesn¡¯t make right.¡±


    I took a step toward her, and she flinched, but I stopped short, pointing at the ground between us.


    ¡°It¡¯s the fight that decides what¡¯s right. You three were stronger than me¡ªfar stronger. I should have died back there. But I didn¡¯t. Was it because I was right? No.¡±


    I locked eyes with her, letting the weight of my words settle in.


    ¡°It¡¯s because I fought to prove that I was right. And now, I am right.¡±


    The silence that followed was deafening. I could still feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, an unquenchable fire that refused to be extinguished. Even if I killed the two standing before me, it wouldn¡¯t satisfy me. It wouldn¡¯t change anything.


    Life and death for hunters were an everyday occurrence. But Selena¡¯s death? That was different. That was a fact I couldn¡¯t ignore. Leora¡¯s disappearance? Another fact that gnawed at me.


    The only way forward was to deal with it. Not forget¡ªnever forget¡ªbut deal with it.


    If I had to die to bring Leora back, I would.


    If I had to die to kill Ulrich, I would.


    I clenched my fist, blood dripping onto the dirt.


    Fatima broke the silence, her voice trembling but resolute.


    ¡°I¡­ ask for a truce,¡± she said, her words hesitant but deliberate.


    I turned to her, narrowing my eyes. Fatima rarely spoke unless necessary. For her to beg¡­ it meant something.


    ¡°I¡­ I am willing to give up the fee Ulrich provided us if you let us go,¡± she continued, her gaze dropping to the ground.


    I felt my anger surge, but I forced it down. Barely.


    Fatima¡¯s hands shook as she gripped her sword tighter, her knuckles white. ¡°I am¡­ willing to cooperate with you. To help capture Ulrich. To hunt him down, if necessary.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, and I studied her carefully.


    Fatima, the stoic swordswoman, was now begging for her life¡ªand for Ayla¡¯s.


    Ayla looked at her, confused, then back at me.


    I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the storm within me. My anger wasn¡¯t going anywhere, but for now, I needed to make a choice.


    ¡°You¡¯ll help me hunt Ulrich?¡± I asked, my voice low but firm.


    Fatima nodded, her dark eyes meeting mine. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I turned to Ayla, who seemed torn between defiance and exhaustion.


    ¡°Do you agree to this?¡± I asked her.


    She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said, letting out a slow breath. ¡°But if either of you betrays me again¡­¡±


    I let the unspoken threat hang in the air.


    This wasn¡¯t forgiveness.


    This was survival.


    Whose survival? Probably mine, Leora¡¯s, and my son¡¯s. I had no delusions about my actions anymore. Killing Thomas wasn¡¯t justice. It wasn¡¯t even vengeance, not really. It was something else¡ªa desperate attempt to convince myself that I could still control something in this chaotic spiral.


    And yet, there I stood, bloodied and battered, promising myself I¡¯d honor Selena¡¯s memory by doing the one thingI preached against my would-be pupil. Ulrich would die. I would see to it personally.


    Hypocrisy tasted bitter. I¡¯d told Ayla vengeance would bring nothing but ruin, but there I was, drowning in the very violence I claimed to detest. Rationalizing it, dressing it up as necessity, survival, even duty. Humanity¡¯s greatest weapon wasn¡¯t its resilience¡ªit was its ability to lie to itself.


    But unlike the man Ayla sought vengeance against, Thomas was at least a ¡®bad¡¯ person. Wasn¡¯t he? A murderer. A pawn for the Undead Troupe. A man who¡¯d fought for nothing but blood and profit. That¡¯s what I told myself as I stared at the headless corpse lying a few feet away.


    I sighed. Fatima and Ayla had disappeared, their presence evaporating like a bad memory. A stealth technique, no doubt. I didn¡¯t bother chasing them. My body wouldn¡¯t have let me, even if I wanted to.


    It took every ounce of willpower to remain upright. My knees trembled, my vision blurred, and my remaining arm felt like lead. My aura reserves were almost depleted, my mind frayed at the edges.


    Thomas had three attributes: Strength, Endurance, and Swiftness. Common enough attributes, but lethal in the right combination and when used by a hardened warrior. When I killed him, I¡¯d taken his Endurance for myself¡ªa permanent theft, a cruel echo of my gift¡¯s nature.


    I replaced the Sharpness attribute in my loadout with Endurance, feeling its stabilizing weight settle into my aura. My body felt slightly sturdier, though the exhaustion still loomed.


    ¡°Now¡­¡± I muttered, dragging my feet forward. ¡°To recover Selena¡­ and mourn.¡±


    The battlefield was quiet now, save for the occasional crackle of burning debris and the whisper of the wind. The fight was over, but the war inside me had only just begun.


    Selena was gone. Leora was missing. And Ulrich was out there somewhere, alive and scheming.


    I looked up at the sky, its pale blue unmarred by the violence below. It felt wrong, how serene the world could seem when everything in me was screaming.


    ¡°It is so¡­ unfair¡­ If there is an ¡®Author¡¯ out their, can you make my life less miserable?¡±

 66 A Father’s Burden

    It was early morning. The sky hung low, heavy with gray clouds, as a cold rain fell steadily over the cemetery. The air smelled of damp earth and sorrow.


    The procession had just ended. Before us, a casket descended into the ground, swallowed by the waiting earth. The priest¡¯s voice carried over the rain, singing his prayers for the departed. Around the grave, the mourners stood silent, heads bowed, umbrellas shielding them from the weather.


    Reina held one such umbrella, shielding herself and my five-year-old son, Leon. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening¡ªhis young mind unable to grasp the gravity of death¡ªbut he had the decency to wear a solemn expression, even if his eyes wandered curiously.


    Stefan stood beside me, his face pale and aged, his grief palpable in the way he clutched his coat against the cold.


    There was quiet. There was mourning.


    When the casket was finally buried, and the priest offered his last words of comfort, the crowd began to disperse. Soon, only three of us remained: Stefan, Leon, and me.


    Stefan broke the silence. ¡°What are you going to do from now on?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer immediately, staring at the fresh mound of dirt that now separated me from a close friend. The words I finally spoke felt hollow. ¡°Bring Leon to the Company, work with what resources I have¡­ and look for Leora.¡±


    Stefan nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging as though carrying a weight too heavy for one man to bear. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can on my end. I guess this isn¡¯t goodbye then.¡±


    ¡°Until then, Stefan. Thank you for caring.¡±


    The old man nodded again, his lips quivering as he turned to leave. I watched him wipe tears from his face, trying to maintain composure.


    Leon ran after him. Their voices carried faintly through the rain, muffled but tense. I could hear Stefan trying to calm Leon, and Leon arguing back, his frustration bleeding through his small voice. Eventually, Stefan left. Leon stayed.


    I didn¡¯t turn to look at him directly, but from the corner of my eye, I saw his tiny fists clenching in anger. The rain poured harder, drenching him. Reina walked over, her umbrella extended to cover him, but Leon pushed her away.


    His fiery eyes locked onto me, accusing, demanding answers.


    ¡°Who is she?¡± he asked, his voice trembling, not with sadness but with something far sharper.


    ¡°That¡¯s Reina,¡± I said, trying to keep my tone steady. ¡°Your bodyguard from now on.¡±


    Leon shook his head violently. ¡°I don¡¯t want a bodyguard, and I¡¯m not talking about her. I¡¯m talking about her!¡± He pointed to the grave, the fresh dirt marking where Selena now rested.


    ¡°That¡¯s Selena Fair,¡± I said, each word weighing heavily. ¡°Hunter. Your aunt. A close friend. She was like a sister to your mother¡ªnot by blood, but by bond. Fate brought them together.¡±


    Leon¡¯s lip quivered, his fists trembling harder. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. ¡°I am your father. Your blood. Your family.¡±


    His eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through me like a blade. ¡°I don¡¯t want you. Where is Mom?¡±


    The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn¡¯t know how to answer it.


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ missing,¡± I said finally. ¡°Your grandpa Stefan and I are looking for her.¡±


    Leon¡¯s expression twisted with fury, tears mixing with the rain on his face. ¡°It should have been you¡­ Not Selena. Not my mom.¡±


    His hands flickered with flames, a gift he hadn¡¯t yet learned to completely master. However, the power was real and dangerous. For a moment, I saw not a five-year-old boy, but a grief-stricken child carrying the weight of emotions far beyond his years.


    Without another word, Leon turned and ran, the flames in his hands leaving faint trails of steam as the rain hit them.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I didn¡¯t follow. I couldn¡¯t.


    Reina stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. ¡°Father, should I restrain him?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°Just¡­ follow him. Make your presence known. He might try to fight back, but coax him back here if you can. I don¡¯t know¡­ just¡­ go.¡±


    She bowed slightly. ¡°Yes, Father.¡±


    Reina disappeared into the rain, following after Leon.


    And I stood there, alone, staring at the grave of a friend. My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists, my body heavy with exhaustion and grief.


    Selena was gone. Leora was missing. And my son¡­ he hated me.


    The rain continued to pour, masking the tears I refused to let fall.


    Was this fate? A corrective plot of sorts?


    I couldn¡¯t shake the thought as I stood there in the rain, the cemetery fading into the background of my mind. What now? Would I need to die, so that my wife would be forced back into the narrative? Was that the price to be paid for her return?


    I didn¡¯t know.


    All I knew was that I felt like shit.


    Reynard, look where fighting fate has brought us.


    The sound of a car door slamming jolted me back to reality. Reina had returned, and with her was Leon. He struggled in her grip, his small form writhing against her restraint. Reina, ever composed, looked pissed¡ªa rare sight even for someone as stoic as her.


    She didn¡¯t say anything as she opened the car¡¯s rear door, stuffing Leon inside with more force than necessary. The boy huffed and crossed his arms, refusing to look at me as I followed and slid into the backseat beside him.


    Reina closed the door with a deliberate click and turned to me, her voice cold and clipped. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Father.¡±


    I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Reina climbed into the driver¡¯s seat, adjusted the mirrors, and started the engine.


    The sedan hummed to life, and we drove off.


    Leon sat stiffly beside me, his arms still crossed, his face turned away as he stared out the rain-streaked window. He refused to meet my gaze, his defiance palpable.


    The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of the tires slicing through wet asphalt and the steady rhythm of the rain on the roof.


    Reina drove with mechanical precision, her hands steady on the wheel. I could feel her irritation, even though she didn¡¯t speak a word.


    Leon let out a frustrated huff, his aura flaring slightly as he dried his soaked clothes with impressive control for someone his age.


    Leora had taught him well.


    I watched him for a moment, the way his small hands moved unconsciously, the faint flicker of flames that danced along his skin.


    Without a word, I reached out, brushing the back of his neck lightly with my fingers.


    Through the brief contact, I borrowed his Fire attribute with a subtle application of Soul Link. The warmth of his aura surged through me, and I used it to dry myself as well.


    Leon turned to me for the first time since we¡¯d entered the car, his brows furrowed in confusion.


    His voice was hesitant. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    I met his gaze evenly. ¡°Drying myself.¡±


    He blinked, clearly puzzled. ¡°How?¡±


    I allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of my lips. ¡°Borrowed your flames.¡±


    Leon¡¯s expression shifted to one of curiosity, his anger momentarily forgotten. ¡°You can do that?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Among other things.¡±


    He stared at me for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether to be impressed or irritated. Finally, he turned back to the window, muttering under his breath.


    The silence returned, but it felt less suffocating now.


    I leaned back in my seat, staring out at the gray world beyond the window. The rain continued to fall, relentless and unyielding.


    Was this fate? Perhaps.


    For now, all I could do was move forward.


    ¡°Leon.¡±


    He didn¡¯t even turn to look at me. ¡°Don¡¯t bother me, you shitty old man.¡±


    I bit back a sigh. ¡°I know the future.¡±


    That got his attention, if only a flicker. He shot me a glare from the corner of his eye but didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°At least, I know one version of it,¡± I continued. ¡°In that version, you have neither me nor your mom. You¡¯re alone. You¡¯ll fight battles far beyond your years, Leon. And you¡¯ll keep losing people you care about.¡±


    Leon¡¯s face tightened, but he didn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°You¡¯ll attend the Hunter Academy eventually,¡± I said, pressing on. ¡°And then rinse and repeat¡ªfighting, surviving, losing. Tragedy after tragedy.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡± His voice was sharper now, edged with both curiosity and anger.


    I looked at him steadily. ¡°I¡¯m saying you need to get stronger if you don¡¯t want that version of the future to come true.¡±


    Leon¡¯s fiery eyes narrowed. ¡°At some point, I might die,¡± I added, my tone calm, matter-of-fact.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    His words were a dagger to the chest, but I¡¯d expected them. ¡°You¡¯ll inherit my assets, the Company, and my connections,¡± I said, undeterred. ¡°With me gone, someone needs to take the wheel and lead the search for Leora¡ªyour mom.¡±


    Leon¡¯s expression faltered for a brief moment, his anger flickering like a candle in the wind. ¡°Where is she?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    He clenched his fists. ¡°You¡¯re useless.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    The bluntness of my admission seemed to throw him off, but he recovered quickly. ¡°What¡¯s that about a Hunter Academy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a learning facility for Hunters,¡± I explained. ¡°The Association President will push for its construction three years from now. It¡¯ll train young Hunters¡ªstudents around the age of seventeen. Naturally, you¡¯ll attend when you¡¯re old enough.¡±


    Leon scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fate, Leon,¡± I said quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think you have a say in the matter.¡±


    ¡°Fuck fate.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help the small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. He had Leora¡¯s fire, no doubt about it.


    Leon crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. ¡°Fate can suck my cunt.¡±


    I let out a long, exasperated sigh. ¡°Leon, you don¡¯t have a cunt. And you need to choose your words very carefully.¡±


    He stared at me, defiant and unyielding.


    ¡°No way a young man like you should behave like that,¡± I added, pinching the bridge of my nose.


    Leon huffed, muttering something under his breath.

 67 Fate’s Fickle Hands

    Five years later.


    Miraculously, I was still alive. And here I thought I would need to die as the so-called plot demanded it. Maybe fate was more fickle than I had given it credit for. My survival had been a defiance, a slap in the face of whatever unseen force tried to script my demise. But it wasn¡¯t without cost.


    My son, Leon, grew more distant with each passing year, his anger festering like an unhealed wound. His techniques advanced in proportion to his obsession to escape me and search for his mother on his own terms. Yet, for all his fiery determination, he was still helpless against Reina. No matter how much stronger he became, she always outmatched him.


    Leon¡¯s stubbornness was unmatched however. His will reminded me too much of Leora¡¯s, though his was more raw and unrefined, a boy trying to play the part of a man.


    A lot had happened in these five years. I built an Outpost near the area where Leora vanished with Ulrich. It was a haven for hunters and a base for my personal operations, though its true purpose was more personal. It was a tether to her, a way to remind myself of the mission I refused to abandon.


    The Company had grown too. Once a modest organization, it was now a considerable force in the Hunter World, its influence stretching far and wide.


    Then there was Bob. The man had finally realized his grand dream¡ªthe Hunter Academy. He had been relentless in its creation, and when he invited me to join the faculty, I declined. Teaching was never my strength. Instead, I lent my expertise to crafting the curriculum and advised him closely on the Academy¡¯s foundation.


    The world outside didn¡¯t stand still either. The rise of the Gift Theory had revolutionized the way we understood aura abilities. The theory postulated that every ability followed a Core Idea, a logic unique to the individual. With it came the Divination of Self, a ritual that allowed one to discover the true name of their Gift.


    When I performed the Divination, I learned my Gift¡¯s name was Akashic Records. All this time, I had thought Soul Link was the name. Apparently, a name decided was different from a name divined.


    And here I¡¯ve been thinking of myself as someone special for having advanced theoretical knowledge of aura. Turns out, I had been scratching the surface of something much deeper.


    The theory¡¯s popularization brought about the creation of the Gift Registry Department and made the existence of aura techniques, and by extension the Hunter World, public knowledge. It was inevitable, I suppose. The world was moving forward whether I liked it or not.


    Not everything was progress, though. The Undead Troupe had made a name for themselves by destroying an entire city-state. Our relationship had soured after Thomas¡¯s death, though Loki, ever the diplomat, remained amenable to discussions. He cared about keeping our relationship cordial, but I didn¡¯t trust him fully. Thomas¡¯s actions had been deliberate, and while Loki claimed no involvement, I knew better than to take him at his word.


    Today, I found myself in my office, staring out at the rain-slicked world through the glass panes. My son had turned ten recently. He¡¯d tried to kill me at his birthday party, of all places.


    Of course, he failed.


    But not before puncturing both of my lungs, leaving me on the brink of death. It was a stark reminder to never host birthday parties for Leon again.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked without turning.


    Behind me, the air shimmered, and a flicker of purple light heralded the arrival of a figure.


    He wore the signature uniform of the World Order¡ªa white trench coat with a dark inner layer, the emblem of a globe with an eye etched on his shoulder. His features were sharp and unmistakably oriental, with white hair and dark eyes that seemed to pierce through me.


    ¡°Codename: Yaksha,¡± I said, my voice flat.


    He gave a slight nod, stepping forward. ¡°It¡¯s a job, Hunting Dog.¡±


    I sighed. That name again. ¡°I quit a long time ago. What are you talking about?¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, his voice calm and unwavering. ¡°It¡¯s not a request. It¡¯s a necessity. The World Order has need of you.¡±


    I turned to face him fully, my eyes narrowing. ¡°You¡¯ve got the wrong man. I¡¯m not a Hunting Dog anymore.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Yaksha said. ¡°But you¡¯re still the only one who can handle this.¡±


    The weight of his words settled in the room, heavy and unrelenting. The rain outside continued to pour, a steady rhythm against the glass.


    For a moment, I said nothing. Then, with a sigh, I gestured for him to continue. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s the job? I will at least hear you¡­ so go on, yap for me.¡±


    One of the biggest discoveries I made during my time as a Hunting Dog for the Hunter¡¯s Association was that we didn¡¯t just answer to the President. We answered, in part, to the World Order.


    It wasn¡¯t something they liked to admit, of course. According to the President, it was a ¡°partial thing,¡± a necessity born out of cooperation. I wasn¡¯t supposed to know any of this¡ªmemory wipes were standard protocol. But, like Selena deduced years ago, I¡¯d become immune to them. A quirk of my Gift, maybe, or just another curse in the long list of things that kept me tethered to this mess.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The memory wipes didn¡¯t stick, and the more I remembered, the more I questioned how in the hell Leora managed to leave the Hunting Dogs unscathed. If anyone should have been a prisoner of the system, it was her. And yet, she found a way out.


    No wonder people envied her.


    Now, five years later, here I was, facing another relic of that world.


    ¡°A dungeon appeared,¡± Yaksha said, his tone clinical. ¡°We lack the manpower to clear it. And we don¡¯t want DERT involved because there¡¯s an item the World Order wants inside.¡±


    I leaned back in my chair, staring at him. ¡°DERT?¡±


    The Dungeon Emergency Response Team was a government-run organization composed of hunters from the military sector. They dealt with dungeons when political figures or mundane civilians were involved. They weren¡¯t perfect, but they got the job done.


    Yaksha¡¯s lips thinned. ¡°The World Order and the Government have their roles, Hunting Dog. Neither of them involves active dungeon captures. That¡¯s your domain.¡±


    ¡°Not mine,¡± I corrected. ¡°I quit, remember?¡±


    He ignored me, continuing. ¡°The Hunter¡¯s Association would have been our first choice. Unfortunately, Bob¡¯s recent actions have made that impossible.¡±


    I arched an eyebrow. ¡°Bob? I thought he and the World Order were on good terms.¡±


    ¡°That quickly changed after he raised his Academy,¡± Yaksha said, his voice carrying a sharp edge. ¡°It was unnecessary. A waste of resources and attention. And then the Government, of all things, decided to expose the Hunter World to the mundanes. Utter stupidity.¡±


    ¡°Stupidity?¡± I asked, unable to hide the smirk tugging at my lips. ¡°Nah, I think the word you¡¯re looking for is progress.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Progress is a lie we tell ourselves when we lose sight of what matters.¡±


    I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°Right. Because keeping the Hunter World in the shadows was working out so well. If anything, Bob did the smart thing. Hunters have always existed in the public¡¯s peripheral vision. Making it official just streamlines the process.¡±


    Yaksha stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine. ¡°You think you understand the stakes, but you don¡¯t. The Government¡¯s interference undermines the balance. The World Order was established to maintain control, not to pander to mundanes who don¡¯t understand the dangers they¡¯re inviting.¡±


    I met his gaze evenly. ¡°And yet here you are, asking for my help. Sounds like your precious control is slipping.¡±


    For a moment, silence hung between us, the tension thick enough to cut. Then Yaksha exhaled, his posture relaxing slightly.


    ¡°Whether you agree or not, the dungeon needs to be cleared,¡± he said. ¡°And you¡¯re the only one we trust to do it.¡±


    ¡°Trust,¡± I repeated, the word bitter on my tongue. ¡°That¡¯s a funny way to phrase it.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°This isn¡¯t a negotiation. If the World Order wanted to force your hand, we would. But we¡¯re giving you the courtesy of choice because of your history with us.¡±


    I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. ¡°And what¡¯s in it for me?¡±


    ¡°Leverage,¡± Yaksha said simply. ¡°You clear this dungeon, and we¡¯ll give you information on Leora.¡±


    The room went cold.


    I stared at him, my mind racing. ¡°You know where she is?¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile. ¡°We know more than you think.¡±


    The bastard. He knew exactly how to bait me. And worse, it was working.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said, my voice low. ¡°Tell me about the dungeon.¡±


    Yaksha inclined his head, satisfied. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the details. Be ready. The World Order doesn¡¯t tolerate failure.¡±


    As he turned to leave, I called out, ¡°Yaksha.¡±


    He paused, glancing over his shoulder.


    ¡°If you¡¯re lying about Leora¡­¡± I let the threat hang in the air.


    His smile widened, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±


    With that, he vanished in a flicker of purple light, leaving me alone with my thoughts.


    Leverage.


    The word churned in my mind as I stared out the window, rain streaking the glass.


    If Yaksha was telling the truth, this dungeon might be the key to finding Leora. But if he wasn¡¯t¡­


    Well, I¡¯d deal with that when the time came.


    I thought back to the Gift Theory.


    The Gift Theory had revolutionized the Hunter world. It simplified aura abilities, categorized Gifts, and made it possible for even mundanes to learn basic techniques. The theory promised rapid growth¡ªHunters could improve 1.5 times faster than before. But there was a cost. Those trained under the new system were weaker than traditional Hunters who learned the Seven States from scratch.


    The Government and the Hunter¡¯s Association had been working closely ever since the Gift Registry Department was established. The realization of the Hunter Academy only deepened that collaboration. On paper, it seemed like progress. But I knew better than to trust surface appearances.


    I sat in my office, my phone in hand, and dialed Bob. The familiar, gruff voice answered after a few rings.


    ¡°Hello? Who¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, President.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Reynard! How are you doing?¡± His tone was jovial, but I could hear the underlying tension.


    ¡°Did the World Order come to you with a request recently?¡± I made my point quickly.


    There was a pause on the other end. Then Bob sighed. ¡°No, not recently. Are they harassing you again? If they¡¯re trying to make you take jobs, let me know. I made it clear to them that you¡¯re no longer a Hunting Dog.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just checking,¡± I said. ¡°An Order member came to me with a job I couldn¡¯t refuse.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like their style,¡± Bob muttered. ¡°Years ago, they came to me with a deal to borrow my Hunting Dogs. I refused, of course. You wouldn¡¯t let just anyone borrow your sword. But they didn¡¯t give up. Instead, they changed the deal¡ªten uses of a Hunting Dog, no questions asked. I couldn¡¯t refuse that one.¡±


    ¡°Did you offer yourself?¡±


    ¡°Of course. But they didn¡¯t want me.¡±


    Typical. The World Order always wanted the best tools for the job, and Bob was too valuable in his position to risk on the field.


    I leaned back in my chair, my mind turning over his words. ¡°How did Leora manage to get out of the Hunting Dogs? I can¡¯t see the World Order letting her go so easily. They¡¯re relentless¡ªoffers you can¡¯t refuse, incentives that demand acceptance. Their methods nauseate me. How did she escape their grip?¡±


    Bob hesitated, his voice softening. ¡°She made a deal with me.¡±


    ¡°What kind of deal?¡±


    ¡°She faked her death,¡± Bob admitted, deflecting on the ¡®deal¡¯ and explained how Leora did it. ¡°That¡¯s how she did it. And she didn¡¯t do it alone. That Selena girl¡­ may she rest in peace¡­ she helped her pull it off.¡±


    The mention of Selena sent a pang through me. Bob had been at her funeral. He knew my circumstances better than most.


    ¡°So that¡¯s how,¡± I murmured. It was a relief to know Leora had outsmarted the system, but it didn¡¯t make my current situation any easier.


    Bob¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°Did the World Order offer you information on Leora in exchange for doing this job?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer immediately.


    ¡°Reynard,¡± Bob pressed, ¡°don¡¯t trust them. If they¡¯re dangling Leora in front of you, it¡¯s because they want something only you can give. You know how they operate. They don¡¯t care about you, her, or anyone else.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said quietly.


    But knowing didn¡¯t make it any easier to resist.


    The World Order didn¡¯t play fair, and they didn¡¯t leave loose ends. If they had even a shred of information about Leora, I had to take the risk. No matter how much it disgusted me, I couldn¡¯t let this chance slip away.


    Bob sighed heavily. ¡°Just¡­ be careful, Reynard. I don¡¯t want to lose another friend.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Bob,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡±

 68 Fractures

    I was thirty-eight now. Not exactly old, but not getting any younger either. My life had become a balancing act between fate and survival. Any time now, the novel Hunterworks would kick off its main storyline¡ªLeon sneaking past the World Wall to begin his blind exploration of the forbidden regions, searching for his family. Searching for her.


    Leora.


    In the story, that moment marked the beginning of Leon¡¯s journey as a hero. The tragedies he would endure, the people he¡¯d lose, the growth he¡¯d achieve¡ªit all started with that reckless decision. And I knew, in my gut, that he was close to making that choice now.


    I sat in my office, fingers grazing the stump where my left arm used to be. It ached sometimes, phantom pain that never let me forget how fragile I was. How human I still was, despite everything.


    The question nagged at me, louder than ever. Should I let the story continue as written? Let Leon go and allow fate to play out? Or should I confine him, keep him safe, and risk angering the narrative? The latter was dangerous. I knew firsthand how cruel fate could be to those who resisted it.


    The door opened, pulling me from my thoughts. Sarah entered, a folder clutched tightly to her chest out of habit, though I knew there were no physical documents inside.


    Sarah had grown so much in the past five years. The timid former cultist who once called me ¡°milord¡± had blossomed into someone confident and capable. Emotionally, she was stronger, too¡ªthough she still had her quirks. The Elsewhere Cult had been dismantled, but Ulrich, their so-called Saint, remained missing.


    A small part of me¡ªa foolish, wishful part¡ªheld onto the hope that he was alive. Because if Ulrich lived, maybe Leora did, too.


    Sarah made her way to the sofa, and I followed, settling into the seat across from her. Therapy. Session three. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was helping yet, but I owed it to myself to try.


    Sarah fidgeted, brushing her hair back nervously. ¡°S-so, boss, this is our third session now. This therapy thing. I¡¯m still getting the hang of it.¡±


    I gave her a small smile. ¡°Have more confidence in yourself. You¡¯ve had your training, and with the recent advancements in aura methodology, you¡¯re more than qualified. What¡¯s your Gift¡¯s name again?¡±


    ¡°Movie Reel,¡± she replied, her voice steadying. ¡°It allows me to view another person¡¯s memories. When I was just using raw aura techniques, I could only see glimpses¡ªflashes, like shattered glass. I never thought something as simple as giving my Gift a name would make such a difference. Now I can peer into someone¡¯s memories with ease.¡±


    The Gift Theory had changed everything. I had played no small part in its manifestation. Behind the scenes, I¡¯d gathered researchers, scientists, and scholars, investing everything I had to push the world forward. I even published theses¡ªanonymously¡ªsupporting technologies and techniques that were supposed to appear decades later.


    The GRD, the Hunter Academy, the spread of aura knowledge¡ªnone of it was supposed to happen yet. This world was supposed to remain a dystopia, a shadowy mess of secrets and fear. But I had accelerated its timeline. I didn¡¯t regret it, but it made me wonder: Was I helping or just speeding toward disaster?


    Sarah straightened up. ¡°So, should we start?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked.


    She nodded, her confidence returning. ¡°I¡¯ve compiled data on the issues you¡¯ve raised. Don¡¯t worry, there¡¯s no physical copy. Everything¡¯s recorded perfectly in my head. The results of your brain scans also came back.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°And?¡±


    Sarah hesitated, as if unsure how to deliver the news. ¡°There¡¯s something wrong with your brain, boss.¡±


    I froze, my heart sinking. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°The symptoms you¡¯ve described¡ªmissing memories, skewed self-awareness, blackouts¡ªthey match the damage we saw in the scans. Your cerebral cortex is injured. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s bad.¡±


    I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s theorized the injury comes from your aura usage,¡± she explained carefully. ¡°It¡¯s like this: The more you use your abilities, the more aura is required. But because you have too little aura to begin with, your mortal flesh¡ªyour brain¡ªcompensates instead. And it¡¯s tearing itself apart in the process.¡±


    The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I¡¯d always known I had far less aura than the average Hunter. Mundanes could mistake me for one of their own, and even fellow Hunters often underestimated me. But I had always pushed past that limitation, forcing my abilities to work, no matter the cost.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    It seemed the cost had finally caught up to me.


    Sarah¡¯s voice softened. ¡°When did you first realize you had missing memories?¡±


    I thought back, the answer coming easily. ¡°During the Hunter¡¯s Licensure Exam. Around the middle portion of it, I started abusing my aura usage too much. I felt it then. Like something was breaking inside me.¡±


    Sarah frowned, her brows knitting together in concern. ¡°That lines up. From what you¡¯ve told me, you were pushing your abilities far beyond what your aura capacity could handle. And you kept doing it.¡±


    I chuckled bitterly. ¡°What choice did I have?¡±


    Sarah looked at me, her eyes sharp. ¡°You still have a choice, boss. You can¡¯t keep ignoring this. If you keep using your abilities like you have been, the damage will get worse. There¡¯s a limit to what your brain can endure.¡±


    Her words lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable. I looked down at my hands¡ªone flesh, one phantom¡ªand felt the weight of my decisions pressing down on me.


    Fate had been cruel to me, and now my own body was failing. My mind was fracturing, piece by piece.


    And yet, even now, I couldn¡¯t stop.


    Because if I stopped, I might lose the last threads holding me together. If I stopped, I might lose Leon. I might lose the chance to find Leora.


    And I couldn¡¯t allow that.


    Not yet.


    ¡°Is there a way to retrieve my missing memories?¡± I asked.


    Sarah frowned, her expression a mix of hesitation and pity. ¡°Maybe if you had the assistance of a telepath, but I doubt that. Most telepaths or reader-class Gifts, like mine, are geared toward mind reading. Actual memory retrieval¡ªtrue mind control¡ªis the stuff of legends.¡±


    I leaned back against the couch, trying to hide my disappointment.


    Sarah continued, voice steady but apologetic. ¡°If there¡¯s anyone who could come close to mind control, it¡¯s probably someone who belongs to the trickster-class. In a way, you¡¯d have to be tricked into remembering the missing memories.¡±


    Tricked into remembering. It sounded ridiculous, but nothing about this world was ordinary. Still, the answer wasn¡¯t what I wanted to hear.


    The therapy sessions had been my last resort¡ªa desperate attempt to dig up the parts of myself I couldn¡¯t reach. I had hoped, foolishly, that uncovering my missing memories would bring me closer to finding her. Leora.


    Now, it seemed like another dead end.


    ¡°The missing memories aren¡¯t even your biggest problem,¡± Sarah added, her tone sharpening. ¡°If you continue the way you are, death wouldn¡¯t be the least of your worries.¡±


    I looked at her, brows furrowed. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Psychosis.¡± She met my gaze head-on, unflinching. ¡°In our last session, you claimed you wrote this world and that we¡¯re inside a novel you created.¡±


    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I¡¯d revealed that hideous truth¡ªor what I believed to be the truth¡ªafter careful consideration. Whether it was something real or implanted into my mind, I couldn¡¯t say for certain. But it was impossible to ignore.


    Sarah studied me carefully. ¡°You mentioned suspecting that memory as something implanted into you.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied slowly. ¡°But there¡¯s another possibility.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    I hesitated, then said, ¡°That it¡¯s a byproduct of psychosis.¡±


    Sarah shook her head. ¡°Is it? Think about it carefully. You told me that the memories of writing this world¡ªof writing us¡ªexisted before you ever forcibly learned to use aura. That¡¯s what you said, right?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Exactly. I remembered this world¡ªHunterworks¡ªbefore I even knew aura existed. I remember the story. The timeline. The characters.¡±


    It was a truth that haunted me every day. I knew how this world was supposed to unfold. I knew the tragedies that awaited. I knew Leon¡¯s story, because I¡¯d written it.


    And yet, I was here now, existing within it.


    Sarah tapped her chin thoughtfully. ¡°That means it couldn¡¯t just be psychosis, then. There¡¯s something else at play. A deeper connection.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Is it possible your Gift has clairvoyant properties?¡± she suggested. ¡°I read about something similar in the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s archives. There are records of clairvoyants appearing throughout history¡ªpeople who could see glimpses of the future or truths beyond their understanding. All of them eventually went insane.¡±


    I stared at her, silent.


    Sarah pressed on. ¡°The Elsewhere Prophet was the only exception.¡±


    The Elsewhere Prophet. That name sent a shiver through me. Ulrich had claimed to be the Elsewhere Saint, but the Prophet? That was something far more ominous. A being who had seen beyond the veil and lived to tell the tale. The one guy that took three freaking years just to get a proper shot at him. And Ulrich was outliving that guy just by being an annoyance.


    ¡°What happened to the others?¡± I asked.


    ¡°They all succumbed to psychosis,¡± Sarah replied simply. ¡°The visions were too much. They fractured their minds.¡±


    The room fell silent for a moment. I stared at the floor, feeling the weight of her words settle over me.


    ¡°How long do I have left?¡± I finally asked, my voice quiet. ¡°Before I die or fall into complete psychosis?¡±


    Sarah shifted uncomfortably, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. If the damage to your brain continues at its current rate¡­ maybe a few years. Maybe less.¡±


    The answer shouldn¡¯t have surprised me, but it did.


    Years. Maybe less.


    Sarah¡¯s voice softened. ¡°But you can slow it down. Stop using your aura. Stop pushing yourself to the limit. You need rest, Reynard. You need to stop.¡±


    I scoffed bitterly. ¡°Stop? You know I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± she demanded. ¡°Why do you keep pushing yourself to the edge?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± I snapped. ¡°Because if I stop, I lose everything. I lose Leon. I lose the chance to find Leora. And I can¡¯t let that happen.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s expression faltered, but she didn¡¯t argue.


    I stood up, pacing the room as my mind raced. My body was breaking. My mind was fracturing. And yet, I couldn¡¯t stop.


    Because I had to move.


    I had to keep searching.


    For her.


    For answers.


    For a way to rewrite the fate I¡¯d written.


    Sarah¡¯s voice pulled me from my thoughts. ¡°Reynard.¡±


    I stopped, turning to look at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re running out of time,¡± she said softly. ¡°You need to figure out what you¡¯re fighting for¡­ and whether it¡¯s worth the price you¡¯re paying.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond. I couldn¡¯t.


    Because I already knew the answer.


    And it didn¡¯t matter what the cost was.


    I was willing to pay for it.

 69 Little Sun King

    In the dimly lit underground basement, the air was thick with the tang of sweat and the sharp hum of sparring energy. The personal training facility had been built for one purpose: to hone the potential of the young heir, Leonard Bright. At just ten years old, Leon was a force of nature¡ªraw, untamed, and brimming with determination.


    ¡°One more, Reina!¡± Leon¡¯s voice echoed, full of fiery resolve.


    He darted forward, his small frame a blur as flames erupted from his fists. His Gift, Sun King, flared to life, enveloping him in a golden aura that cast long shadows across the room. He moved with reckless speed, dashing toward Reina¡¯s blind spots with calculated aggression.


    But Reina was always one step ahead.


    Leon threw a fiery blast, the heat radiating off it scorching the air. Reina sidestepped effortlessly, her movements precise and measured. She slipped in a sharp jab, her fist colliding with Leon¡¯s midsection and sending him skidding back.


    Leon gritted his teeth, feeling his aura control falter under the pressure.


    ¡°How?¡± he muttered, frustration bubbling up. ¡°How do you always do that?¡±


    Reina didn¡¯t answer, her calm expression unchanging. She stood poised, her dark hair tied back in a tight braid, and her piercing eyes never left him.


    Leon had spent years trying to uncover the secret of her Gift, but Reina was an enigma. She moved like a ghost, appearing and disappearing with an almost supernatural grace. No matter how much Leon trained, no matter how fiercely he fought, he could never outwit or outrun her.


    Leon clenched his fists, his fiery aura intensifying. ¡°I¡¯m going to get out of this place, find Mom, and live my happily ever after!¡±


    As if in response to his declaration, Sun King roared to life. A miniature sun formed in his right hand, its searing light casting an ethereal glow across the room.


    Leon¡¯s body flickered, a testament to his Gift¡¯s speed. In an instant, he reappeared above Reina, the miniature sun poised to strike. With a roar, he unleashed it, the orb streaking toward Reina with devastating force.


    But it missed.


    Leon¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief as the orb slammed into the ground, leaving a scorched mark where Reina should have been.


    ¡°I missed?!¡± Leon exclaimed, twisting in midair to locate her.


    A soft voice drifted to his ears, calm and composed. ¡°I¡¯m here, young master.¡±


    Leon barely had time to react before Reina¡¯s foot connected with his face. The impact sent him hurtling downward, his body slamming into the ground with enough force to create a small crater. Dust and debris billowed around him as he groaned in pain.


    ¡°Son of a¡­ bitch¡­¡± Leon muttered, clutching his head.


    Reina descended gracefully, landing beside the crater with barely a sound. She looked down at him, arms crossed. ¡°Language, young master,¡± she chided, her tone firm but not unkind. ¡°It doesn¡¯t suit your pedigree.¡±


    Leon glared up at her, his golden aura flickering weakly as his energy waned. ¡°Pedigree this,¡± he grumbled under his breath, pushing himself to his feet.


    Reina arched an eyebrow but didn¡¯t comment. Instead, she gestured toward him. ¡°Again.¡±


    Leon wiped the blood from his nose, his eyes blazing with defiance. He wasn¡¯t done¡ªnot by a long shot.


    As the flames around him reignited, Reina¡¯s calm expression remained unchanged. She knew he wouldn¡¯t stop until he collapsed, and even then, he¡¯d probably crawl his way back to his feet.


    Because that was Leonard Bright.


    And she wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.


    Few hours later¡­


    Leon stood in the middle of the underground training facility, sweat dripping from his brow as he stared at Reina, his so-called bodyguard and eternal sparring partner. The glow of his aura flickered faintly around him, evidence of his exhaustion after hours of relentless combat. Yet, his frustration wasn¡¯t from the physical exertion¡ªit was from Reina herself.


    ¡°Are you even human, Reina?¡± he asked, narrowing his eyes.


    Reina¡¯s expression remained unreadable, as always. ¡°I was never human to begin with.¡±


    Leon blinked, caught off guard by her matter-of-fact tone. ¡°Wha¡ª? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I am originally a doll,¡± she said calmly, as if discussing the weather. ¡°Created from aura and built from mundane parts. Father¡¯s aura gave me life, and for that, I am grateful. I am also grateful to my mother for bringing me into existence.¡±


    Leon¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Mother? You mean¡­ uhh¡­ Leora?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Reina replied, shaking her head slightly. ¡°Atropos. She is your father¡¯s sister.¡±


    Leon¡¯s face twisted in confusion. ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that fucked up? You call them father and mother when they¡¯re siblings.¡±


    Reina tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. ¡°Because, in every sense of the word, that is what they are to me.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Leon crossed his arms, trying to process this bizarre revelation. ¡°I never heard that the shitty old man even had a sister.¡±


    ¡°Your father isn¡¯t that old,¡± Reina corrected him. ¡°He has a long life ahead of him¡­ I think.¡±


    Leon rolled his eyes. ¡°Can you tell me about this mother of yours?¡±


    Reina¡¯s expression softened, but only slightly. ¡°Cold. Unfeeling. That is the impression I remember, probably from my time as a ¡®doll.¡¯¡±


    Leon let out a low whistle. ¡°Wow. To sum it up, being shitty parents must run in the family.¡±


    ¡°That is improbable,¡± Reina countered, her tone unshaken. ¡°Every human heart is complicated and unique in its own ways.¡±


    Leon waved her words off. ¡°So this Atropos is my aunt? If I ask her to take me away from here, would she help me?¡±


    ¡°Highly unlikely,¡± Reina said without hesitation. ¡°She was estranged from your father. The latter does not acknowledge the former as his sister¡ªunless it benefits him. Mother would most likely foil your childish escape attempts to appeal to him.¡±


    Leon scoffed. ¡°Yep, that¡¯s my shitty old man.¡±


    Reina hesitated, her eyes flickering with something almost human¡ªconcern, maybe. ¡°I am not at liberty to say this, but I will do it nonetheless. This must be what it means to have free will.¡±


    Leon groaned, already regretting his curiosity. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna listen if it¡¯s just another lecture. Let¡¯s go another round.¡±


    Reina ignored his deflection, her voice steady and deliberate. ¡°Your father has missing memories and is troubled by traumas. Perhaps the reason he is keeping Mother out of his life is because of this.¡±


    Leon shrugged, turning his back to her and rolling his shoulders in preparation for another fight. ¡°Not my problem.¡±


    Reina sighed softly, stepping into her stance. ¡°Very well, young master. Let us continue.¡±


    And so they did, the echoes of their battle reverberating through the underground space. Yet, as they clashed, Leon couldn¡¯t help but feel a small, nagging curiosity about this mysterious aunt of his¡ªand the secrets his father so desperately tried to bury.


    Leon sat on the edge of the crater he had made during his last failed attempt to outmaneuver Reina. His body ached, his breathing was labored, and his mind wouldn¡¯t stop racing. He had always seen his father as an untouchable figure, distant and cold. Yet now, after Reina¡¯s revelations, his thoughts spiraled into a chaotic tangle.


    For five years, Leon had lived under his father¡¯s roof, enduring the weight of his presence. He couldn¡¯t measure the man by normal standards¡ªhis father wasn¡¯t human in the ways that mattered. Leon saw it in the way he moved, the way he spoke, and most of all, in the way he pretended to care.


    Artificial¡­ forced¡­


    Leon¡¯s Gift, Sun King, had always been attuned to the truth, to the light hidden behind lies. It screamed at him whenever his father attempted to act the part of a caring parent. The warmth his father displayed was a facade, and knowing this only made Leon¡¯s frustration burn hotter.


    He clenched his fists, the flicker of heat radiating from his aura an echo of his anger. He wanted his mom back. Desperately. The thought consumed him, filling every corner of his mind with questions and bitterness.


    Reina stepped closer, her calm presence a stark contrast to Leon¡¯s fiery emotions. ¡°Let¡¯s stop here,¡± she said, her voice even.


    Leon exhaled sharply, collapsing onto his back. The cold, hard floor felt like a welcome reprieve from the heat coursing through his body. ¡°Huff¡­¡±


    Reina¡¯s gaze remained steady as she folded her arms. ¡°Your father calls for you, young master. Take a breather, a shower, and get dressed. He will be meeting you in his office.¡±


    Leon groaned, covering his face with one arm. ¡°Great. More cryptic bullshit, I bet.¡±


    Reina tilted her head, her expression unreadable. ¡°Perhaps. Or perhaps he has something important to say.¡±


    Leon sat up slowly, glaring at her. ¡°When does he not have something important to say? It¡¯s always about control with him. Always about making sure I don¡¯t ¡®step out of line.¡¯¡±


    Reina didn¡¯t respond immediately. Instead, she knelt down, her tone softer than usual. ¡°Your father may be cold, but that does not mean he lacks care. The ways of the human heart are often¡­ complicated.¡±


    Leon scoffed, rising to his feet. ¡°Yeah, well, his heart¡¯s more like a block of ice. And I¡¯m tired of being frozen out.¡±


    Reina added, ¡°Don¡¯t stay for too long.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long.


    Leon adjusted the hood of his black hoodie, the fabric slightly snug against his head as he stepped into his father¡¯s office. The space was as sterile and imposing as ever¡ªbookshelves lined with volumes that seemed untouched, a sleek black desk free of clutter, and the faint hum of an unseen aura permeating the room.


    Before Leon could utter a word, something metallic gleamed in the air, hurtling toward him. Instinct kicked in, and his hand shot out to catch it. He frowned as he examined the object: a silver ring, smooth and unassuming, save for faint etchings that shimmered under the office¡¯s dim lighting.


    ¡°What¡¯s that about, shitty dad?¡± Leon growled, his grip tightening on the ring.


    His father, standing behind the desk, offered no immediate response. The man¡¯s gaze was cold and calculating, as always. ¡°New aura-based technology,¡± he said, his tone clipped. ¡°Using spatial technology at its core. Think of it as an item box, like in those games you waste your time on.¡±


    Leon turned the ring over in his hand, studying it. The faint shimmer of aura infused within the metal betrayed its value. ¡°This is one gift I can¡¯t reject¡­¡± he muttered, though his tone was skeptical. He glanced up at his father. ¡°But my birthday isn¡¯t even around the corner.¡±


    He hesitated, caught off guard by the gesture. Part of him wanted to scoff, to hurl the ring back and storm out. But Reina¡¯s earlier words lingered in his mind. Your father may be cold, but that does not mean he lacks care.


    And then there was the undeniable utility of the ring itself. He wasn¡¯t stupid¡ªhe knew how invaluable this would be, especially if he ever managed to escape this suffocating life.


    His father¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts. ¡°Inside that ring are stored amounts of water and food. I¡¯ve also left your card open, so you won¡¯t be strapped for cash.¡±


    Leon¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Huh? What for?¡±


    His father stepped out from behind the desk, his suit¡¯s empty left sleeve flapping slightly as if caught in an invisible breeze. Despite the missing arm, the aura radiating from the man was anything but crippled. It filled the room with an oppressive weight, the air crackling faintly with invisible threads of power that only Leon¡¯s Gift could faintly detect.


    ¡°Do I need to spell it out for you?¡± his father said, his tone laced with impatience. ¡°My fallible son, you are getting kicked out of the house.¡±


    Leon froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He stared at his father, the weight of the silver ring suddenly feeling heavier in his hand.


    The man¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver as he closed the distance between them, his aura pulling at the edges of Leon¡¯s senses like an invisible tide. ¡°You¡¯ve been coddled long enough. It¡¯s time for you to leave.¡±


    Leon¡¯s jaw tightened, anger flaring up in his chest. ¡°If you think I¡¯m going to thank you, then don¡¯t,¡± he spat, shoving the ring into his pocket.


    His father¡¯s lips curled into the faintest semblance of a smirk, though it lacked any warmth. ¡°I never imagined it.¡±


    Leon glared at him, fists clenched, but the man didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, he stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.


    ¡°Out,¡± his father commanded, the single word sharp and final.


    Leon¡¯s legs felt like lead as he turned and walked toward the door. He didn¡¯t look back, even as the familiar prickling sensation of his father¡¯s aura lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a reminder of the power he was leaving behind.


    As he stepped out of the office and into the hallway, the realization hit him fully: he was being cast out, pushed into the world he had only dreamed of escaping to.


    And for the first time, the thought of freedom didn¡¯t feel as triumphant as he had imagined.

 70 Destinys Threads

    ¡°Are you sure it is wise to leave him be, Father?¡± Reina¡¯s voice cut through the quiet of the room.


    I leaned back in my chair, my fingers lightly tapping the edge of the desk. ¡°No. He¡¯s just a kid, after all.¡±


    ¡°Then why?¡± she pressed, her tone sharp with unspoken grudge.


    ¡°It is his destiny,¡± I replied simply.


    Reina¡¯s brows furrowed, and I could see the storm brewing behind her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel, her movements deliberate, as if she were about to chase after Leon. I sighed, knowing this moment would come, and prepared myself for it. With a single thought, I activated my Telekinesis-build, feeling the familiar alignment of my aura¡¯s attributes: Connection, Force, Mind, and Perception.


    The doors trembled briefly before locking themselves shut under my telekinetic hold. Reina stopped in her tracks, glancing back at me with a mixture of surprise and frustration.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you see your little brother as someone you could cherish,¡± I said, my voice calm but firm. ¡°But I can¡¯t let you intervene in his life.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, a rare show of defiance. ¡°Hopefully to put you at ease,¡± I continued, ¡°I¡¯ve hired a bodyguard for him.¡±


    ¡°A bodyguard that could be bought,¡± she shot back, her words laced with disdain. ¡°I could never be bought.¡±


    I chuckled softly. ¡°The bodyguard I hired is a trusted friend of mine. I believe he¡¯ll mesh well with Leon.¡±


    Reina¡¯s stance relaxed slightly, though her skepticism remained. ¡°I shall defer to your judgment, Father. But why? Leon isn¡¯t ready yet. He couldn¡¯t even touch my sleeve. He¡¯s just ten years old.¡±


    Her words stung more than I cared to admit, but I kept my expression neutral. ¡°I wish there was another way, but fate is a fickle mistress,¡± I said, leaning forward slightly, ¡°and probably a pettier woman.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re talking in cryptic words, Father,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°Have you gone senile?¡±


    Whoa¡ªnever thought I¡¯d hear that from Reina. I couldn¡¯t stop the small laugh that bubbled up, though I quickly stifled it.


    ¡°What are you laughing about, Father?¡± she demanded, her voice tinged with indignation. ¡°There¡¯s nothing funny about this situation.¡±


    ¡°Apologies,¡± I said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ such a delight to see such rich emotions from you, Reina.¡±


    Her face softened for a moment, the faintest flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. But she recovered quickly, her usual composure slipping back into place like a well-worn mask.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t agree with your decision,¡± she said quietly, though her voice lacked the edge it held earlier.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± I replied, standing and walking over to the window. The faint shimmer of my aura threads still lingered in the air, invisible to most but always present to me. ¡°But you¡¯ll understand someday. Perhaps sooner than you think.¡±


    Behind me, I could hear Reina exhale deeply, her resolve wavering for just a moment before she straightened. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right,¡± she said, her voice softer now.


    ¡°I hope so too,¡± I murmured, more to myself than to her, as I watched the faint silhouette of Leon leaving the estate through the window.


    Reina lingered for a moment longer before turning to leave, the quiet click of her footsteps echoing through the room. Once she was gone, I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding.


    ¡°Fate,¡± I muttered under my breath, my gaze fixed on the horizon. ¡°You better not screw this up.¡± With a bit of effort, I took a few pieces of paper, a ballpen, and began thinking to myself what to write. Heh~! I should just write what I felt¡­ and also my intentions for what I was about to do.


    So, I began writing a letter addressed to Reina.


    ~


    To My Dearest Reina,


    As I write this, I am filled with a bittersweet sense of both pride and regret. You have grown into someone far beyond what I could have ever hoped for¡ªa brilliant, capable, and fiercely independent woman. It is because of these qualities that I entrust you with something that weighs heavily on my heart.


    I am leaving, Reina. The path I have chosen is fraught with dangers and uncertainties, and though I will do everything in my power to return, the reality is that I may not. This is not a decision I made lightly. The stakes are high, and the risks are great, but the cause is one I cannot turn away from.


    Should I not return, I am placing the Company in your hands. You are the only one I trust to steer it in the right direction, to safeguard what we have built, and to honor the legacy we have worked so hard to create. I know you may doubt your readiness, but believe me when I say you are more than capable.


    Beyond the Company, there is something far more precious I must ask of you. Leon. He is still so young, so full of potential and promise. I have seen how you look after him, how you guide him in your own way. Be the big sister he needs, Reina. Protect him, nurture him, and help him become the person he is meant to be.


    I know you may feel anger at my decision, perhaps even resentment, and I will not blame you for it. But please understand, this is not a matter of choice but of necessity. The road ahead is unclear, and while I may not always be there to guide you, I trust that your intuition will light the way.


    The Moon tarot card I have left with this letter is a symbol of that uncertainty, but also of the strength to navigate it. Trust yourself, Reina. Trust in the instincts that have always served you well.


    Finally, know this: I am proud of you. No matter what lies ahead, that will never change.


    With all my love and faith,


    Reynard


    ~The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    I set the pen down after signing the letter, its weight heavier than it should have been. The words I¡¯d written to Reina felt final, a parting gift wrapped in obligation. On top of the folded letter, I placed the Moon tarot card, a symbol of uncertainty and intuition, fitting for what lay ahead. My nameplate, flipped face down, served as a placeholder. A deliberate gesture.


    This company, this little empire¡ªI would leave it in her hands. Not because she was ready, but because there was no one else I trusted. If things went south, she would need it as a shield. And if I didn¡¯t come back¡­ well, someone had to carry on.


    The weight of inevitability hung heavy on me as I dialed a number on the telephone. The connection clicked, and I heard a familiar voice.


    ¡°So?¡± asked the voice.


    ¡°I am ready,¡± I said.


    The room filled with a sudden, oppressive heat as Yaksha appeared in a burst of purple and putrid flames. His aura was suffocating, his form wreathed in unnatural fire that flickered and danced as though alive.


    ¡°That¡¯s a rather convenient ability,¡± I remarked, keeping my tone dry. ¡°So, where to now?¡±


    ¡°Lomar, the City of Outlaws,¡± he replied, his voice a deep growl that carried an edge of impatience.


    I stood, taking a final glance around the room. My office, my fortress, my prison. I stepped forward, stretching out my one remaining hand. Yaksha¡¯s grip was firm and unyielding, his clawed fingers engulfing mine.


    With a roar of purple flames, the world dissolved around us. The inferno wasn¡¯t hot¡ªit was cold, like stepping into the void itself. The sensation was disorienting, a violent pull that felt like being yanked through space by unseen threads.


    When the flames subsided, we stood in a dimly lit alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. The air was thick with the smell of soot and decay, the sounds of the city a distant hum. Lomar.


    ¡°Follow closely,¡± Yaksha said, his voice low but commanding. ¡°My unit should be close by.¡±


    He moved with purpose, his hulking frame gliding through the shadows with an ease that belied his size. I followed, my steps quieter but no less deliberate.


    Lomar wasn¡¯t a city; it was a wound festering in the heart of the world. The alleys twisted like veins, the buildings leaning together as if conspiring against the sky. Every shadow seemed alive, every corner a potential ambush.


    As we navigated the labyrinthine streets, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was being watched. It wasn¡¯t paranoia¡ªthis was Lomar, after all. Eyes were everywhere, and none of them friendly.


    Yaksha paused, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something I couldn¡¯t hear. ¡°They¡¯re close,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope they¡¯re friendlier than the locals,¡± I quipped, earning a sharp glance from him.


    ¡°Keep your tongue in check,¡± he warned. ¡°This isn¡¯t a place for jokes.¡±


    Lomar sprawled before us, a labyrinth of pipes, neon lights, and chrome facades. The city clung to the eastern inner walls like a parasite, thriving in its own peculiar way. Steam hissed from unseen vents, mixing with the sharp tang of industrial chemicals in the air. Shadows stretched long and deep, fractured by the ever-present glow of flickering signs.


    Yaksha walked ahead, his massive frame cutting through the crowd with ease. I followed, keeping my steps light and my senses sharper. This was no place to lose focus.


    ¡°How old are you now, Yaksha?¡± I asked, breaking the silence.


    ¡°Why do you care?¡± His tone was gruff, his pace unbroken.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°If the World Order has any method to extend life, I¡¯m thinking¡­ how much does it cost? Once in a while, organizations with deep roots have secret techniques they pass along to their core members. For instance, do you know the Elsewhere Cult¡¯s method of immortality?¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s steps faltered slightly, but he didn¡¯t reply. Instead, he stopped in front of a dead-end alley, his clawed hand reaching for a hidden trapdoor. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± he said curtly.


    The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit stairwell. I followed him down, the metallic tang in the air intensifying as we descended. At the bottom, we emerged into a posh bar, its polished chrome and velvet accents a stark contrast to the grimy streets above. The place was sparsely populated¡ªa few patrons idled by the pool table, others lounged in booths, their laughter muffled by the hum of conversation and soft jazz.


    Yaksha strode ahead, cutting a direct path to a private room at the back. I followed, my senses on high alert. As a precaution, I scattered Soul Link thread and Soul Mark stains discreetly throughout the area, a habit I¡¯d developed over the years. Preparedness was survival.


    Inside the room, three individuals waited, all wearing the same uniform as Yaksha. The first was a woman with sharp features and dark, styled hair¡ªshe exuded an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. The second was an old man with a weathered face and a calm demeanor, his eyes betraying years of experience. The third was a gentleman, polished and composed, his posture impeccable.


    Yaksha gestured to each of them in turn. ¡°Reynard, these are the rest of my crew. The dolled-up brunette is Sasha, the old man is Fu, and the gentleman is Carlyle.¡±


    Carlyle¡¯s lips curved into a polite smile. ¡°Long time no see, Reynard.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± I replied, studying him closely. ¡°Never pegged you for an Order member.¡±


    Carlyle¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes¡ªamusement, perhaps, or recognition. ¡°Life takes us down unexpected paths,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°And the World Order has its¡­ charms.¡±


    ¡°Charms, sure,¡± I said, leaning back slightly. ¡°More like shackles.¡±


    Sasha snorted, folding her arms. ¡°Big talk from someone who¡¯s here asking for help.¡±


    I ignored her jab, my attention shifting to Fu. The old man hadn¡¯t said a word, but his gaze was sharp, assessing me as though peeling back layers to see what lay beneath.


    ¡°Is this the part where you tell me why I¡¯m here, or do we keep dancing around it?¡± I asked, breaking the silence.


    Yaksha crossed his arms. ¡°Patience, Reynard. You¡¯re here because we need each other. But first, let¡¯s see if you¡¯re still as sharp as Carlyle claims.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how do you plan to test that?¡±


    Sasha grinned with a dangerous glint in her eyes. ¡°Simple. Survive.¡±


    So a test of skill, then?


    Sasha stood out immediately, looking like the youngest of Yaksha¡¯s crew. Her purple hair framed a face that carried equal parts arrogance and determination. A sword dangled by her waist¡ªdual-edged, occidental in design, with a polished hilt that gleamed faintly in the dim light.


    Without warning, she lunged at me. Her speed was incredible, her blade flashing in an arc that seemed to slice the air itself.


    I reacted instinctively, equipping my Sword Master build. My aura adjusted to align with the attributes: Homing, Swiftness, Toughness, and Sharpness. The moment her blade came close, my aura-empowered right hand intercepted it, homing in on the tip of her sword.


    The clang of steel echoed in the cramped space as I parried her strikes with ease. Her movements were fluid, precise, but predictable. She was testing me, and I couldn¡¯t help but analyze her form as I deflected each attack.


    The space was tight, making every swing feel heavier, more dangerous. Despite this, Sasha didn¡¯t falter. Her strikes became sharper, faster, until my vision suddenly fractured. Afterimages of her blade appeared all around me, curving unpredictably in the air.


    Her aura ability. Clever.


    But it was time to end this.


    I swapped Sharpness for Perception, allowing me to read the flow of her strikes. When the next swing came, I caught her blade between my two fingers, stopping it mid-air.


    ¡°Did I pass?¡± I asked with a bored tone.


    Sasha clicked her tongue in annoyance and pulled back, sheathing her sword.


    From the corner of the room, Carlyle burst into laughter. He was a blonde man with piercing blue eyes, his refined features softened by the smirk on his face. Pulling his hat lower, he remarked, ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to work with you again, the Author¡­ or do you prefer King of Favors?¡±


    ¡°Reynard is just fine,¡± I replied, brushing off the title.


    The old man stepped forward next, his demeanor calm but commanding. His outfit, though matching the team¡¯s uniform, had the casual touch of a tracksuit.


    ¡°The name¡¯s Fu,¡± he said, his voice gruff but warm. ¡°And yes, I¡¯m old. But don¡¯t let that fool you¡ªI can still perform my duties.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I have no issue with you. Age is tertiary when it comes to hunter abilities.¡±


    Fu chuckled, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Oho~ makes me curious. What¡¯s primary and secondary, then?¡±


    ¡°Simple,¡± I said, meeting his gaze. ¡°Technique is primary, and experience is secondary.¡±


    Fu¡¯s laughter filled the room, a deep, resonant sound. ¡°You¡¯ve got a sharp tongue, Reynard. I like that.¡±


    I let the moment settle, scanning the group. Sasha was still glaring at me, Carlyle was grinning like he knew a secret, and Fu seemed satisfied.


    This crew was going to be interesting.

 71 The Bigger Picture

    The van¡¯s hum filled the air as we cruised down the dimly lit streets. Carlyle sat in the passenger seat, casually fiddling with a small gadget while Sasha sat beside me, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Yaksha was seated directly in front of me. He leaned back in his seat with a faint smirk playing on his lips as he started speaking.


    ¡°A professional question for you, Reynard,¡± Yaksha began, his tone calm but probing. ¡°How often do hunters participate in dungeon captures?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I have no idea. But from what I understand about the Hunter¡¯s Association, dungeon regulation is part of their responsibilities.¡±


    Yaksha tilted his head. ¡°And you? How often do you dive into dungeons?¡±


    ¡°Rarely,¡± I admitted.


    Yaksha nodded, his smirk widening. ¡°That tracks. It is the Hunter¡¯s Association¡¯s responsibility to handle dungeons. But here¡¯s the thing¡ªhunters rarely bother with such thankless missions. They¡¯d rather take out a human target because it¡¯s easier, the pay¡¯s better, and the rewards are immediate. Even more appealing is venturing outside the World Wall for treasure hunting or monster subjugation. The risks are higher, but the rewards are leagues beyond what dungeons within the Wall can offer.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at him. ¡°What are you getting at?¡±


    ¡°Just play along,¡± Yaksha said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°I¡¯m giving you background on our rivals today¡ªDERT. The Dungeon Emergency Response Team.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.


    ¡°On paper,¡± Yaksha explained, ¡°DERT was created as a rescue unit¡ªtrained aura soldiers ready to intervene when civilians or VIPs got caught up in dungeon incidents. But their true purpose? To wrest dungeon subjugation duties from the Hunter¡¯s Association. Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t the government screwing up with their usual cloak-and-dagger antics this time. It was the Association¡¯s own president at fault.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Are you suggesting some conspiracy? It doesn¡¯t interest me.¡±


    ¡°Now, now,¡± Yaksha said with a chuckle. ¡°I know you¡¯re friends with Bob. But hear me out. DERT has been operating for the past ten years, and thanks to Bob offering the government access to dungeons, they¡¯ve managed to tighten their grip on the industry. Don¡¯t you see where this is heading?¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond, but my silence seemed to encourage him.


    ¡°The mysterious power of aura has been publicly advertised to the world,¡± Yaksha continued, his tone growing more serious. ¡°The Hunter World is on the verge of a new era. Civilians are dreaming of becoming hunters, getting rich quick, and living glamorous lives. Meanwhile, new hunters, inexperienced and naive, are being coerced or manipulated into diving into dungeons. Most of them will die. And the few who survive? They¡¯ll be the cream of the crop¡ªthe elite hunters the system is designed to create. It¡¯s all one big con, sacrificing many to find a few promising gems.¡±


    ¡°Get to the point,¡± I snapped, tired of his prattling.


    Yaksha chuckled again, unfazed. ¡°I know you are aware of the bigger picture, Reynard. Of course, you know what I¡¯m talking about. But let¡¯s not pretend you¡¯re above the intrigue. You know better than anyone that the game behind the game has always been in play. Bob had dreams of spreading aura knowledge for the sake of enlightenment, sure. He created the Hunter¡¯s Academy to foster heroes. But to achieve his vision, he had to make concessions. He had to cut deals, and those deals have consequences.¡±


    I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tapping against my thigh as I mulled over his words. Yaksha wasn¡¯t telling me anything I didn¡¯t already know, but hearing it laid out so plainly still stung.


    ¡°Bob¡¯s concessions weren¡¯t perfect,¡± I said finally. ¡°But they were necessary.¡±


    ¡°Necessary for who?¡± Yaksha shot back, his smirk fading. ¡°For Bob? For the government? For the people who benefit from the sacrifices of the many?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. I didn¡¯t need to.


    The van turned a corner, and the neon glow of Lomar¡¯s streets cast eerie reflections on the windows. This city of pipes, chrome, and shadows felt like the perfect backdrop for the kind of games we were about to play.


    The Government¡¯s intentions had always been transparent to me: accumulate power at any cost. For years, they had sent the Association¡¯s hunters to the frontlines of the forbidden regions to stem the cryptid invasion, sacrificing lives to maintain a fragile balance. But what about Yaksha? And the organization he represented¡ªthe World Order?The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Three pinnacle organizations safeguarded humanity:


    <ul>


    <li>The Government, tasked with protecting and governing the mundane populace.</li>


    <li>The Hunter¡¯s Association, which regulated aura-practice and maintained order among hunters.</li>


    <li>And the World Order, an enigmatic entity balancing the two, ensuring neither descended into unchecked corruption.</li>


    </ul>


    For years, the World Order had worked in the shadows, uprooting organizations that sought to undermine both the Government and the Association. They didn¡¯t seem to operate on any rigid principles beyond what was necessary to maintain equilibrium. That¡¯s what made their recent active movements so puzzling. The Order rarely acted without clear purpose. So why now?


    Yaksha interrupted my thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re quiet, Reynard. Something on your mind?¡±


    ¡°What are we stealing?¡± I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.


    Yaksha¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile. ¡°We¡¯re not stealing an object, just so you know... We¡¯re stealing a person¡ªa member of DERT.¡±


    I blinked, concealing my surprise. A person? All this time, I¡¯d assumed we were after some artifact or classified tech. Yaksha had referred to the target as a "treasure," and I hadn¡¯t thought to question it.


    Yaksha reached into his coat and handed me a sleek black ring. Its surface gleamed faintly, as though pulsing with its own inner energy.


    ¡°This ring has a teleportation function,¡± Yaksha explained. ¡°It¡¯ll work even inside dungeon walls. You¡¯ll use it once we secure the target.¡±


    ¡°And what exactly do you need me to do?¡± I asked, slipping the ring onto my finger.


    ¡°You¡¯ll destabilize the dungeon core,¡± Yaksha said matter-of-factly. ¡°Once the core collapses, it¡¯ll cause a spatial implosion that erases all evidence of our actions. Meanwhile, we¡¯ll take care of the other DERT members. No witnesses.¡±


    So, I had to use the ring before I got caught up in the spatial explosion.


    I leaned back in my seat, my mind racing. A dungeon core collapse wasn¡¯t just risky¡ªit was catastrophic. The core stabilized the pocket dimension within the dungeon. Without it, the entire structure would implode, potentially dragging everything inside into oblivion.


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure about this?¡± I asked, keeping my voice steady.


    Yaksha¡¯s smile widened. ¡°This isn¡¯t my first dance, Reynard. Trust me.¡±


    Trust? That was rich coming from him.


    I glanced down at the ring, its cold surface pressing against my skin. This wasn¡¯t just a mission¡ªit was a gamble, and I hated gambling when the stakes were this high. But Yaksha had a point. If we left evidence behind, it wouldn¡¯t take long for the Government or the Hunter¡¯s Association to connect the dots.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said, crossing my arms. ¡°But if this goes sideways, I¡¯m not taking the fall for your plan.¡±


    ¡°Noted,¡± Yaksha replied, his smirk never faltering.


    We pulled up a few blocks from the dungeon entrance, the van¡¯s engine humming as Carlyle leaned forward, listening intently to the gizmo in his hand. His sharp blue eyes darted between the screen and the surroundings.


    ¡°They¡¯re inside,¡± Carlyle announced, his voice calm but deliberate.


    Fu nodded and raised a hand. A shimmering portal, crackling faintly with energy, materialized in front of us. Without hesitation, he drove the van through it, and in the blink of an eye, we were inside the dungeon.


    The shift was immediate. The air grew heavy, charged with the unmistakable aura of a dungeon¡ªa mix of primal energy and the faint metallic tang of danger. Fu pulled the van into a shadowy alcove, blending seamlessly with the jagged rock formations.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here,¡± Fu said, cutting the engine. ¡°Getaway duty. No one¡¯s leaving without me.¡±


    I stepped out, glancing at the rest of the team. It was an unusual composition, I had to admit. Two teleporters, Fu and Yaksha, serving vastly different roles. Carlyle and Sasha were clearly the main combatants, and I¡­ well, I was the wild card.


    Yaksha clapped a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Carlyle and Sasha are more than enough to handle DERT¡¯s muscle. Once we make contact, your job is to punch through their defenses and head straight for the dungeon core. Do not deviate.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°And the comms?¡± I¡¯ve never been in a dungeon with a party before, so I had to ask.


    ¡°They won¡¯t work in here,¡± Yaksha said with a shrug. ¡°Give it fifteen minutes. That¡¯s your window to destabilize the core.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Fifteen minutes isn¡¯t much time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all we need,¡± he replied confidently.


    The man had a knack for exuding unshakable assurance, which, if I were being honest, only made me more suspicious. They were putting a lot of trust in me, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Yaksha¡¯s confidence wasn¡¯t just in his team¡ªit was in his ability to control the situation, including me.


    We moved toward the dungeon entrance with practiced efficiency. It was a large, gaping maw carved into the earth, jagged rocks framing its ominous descent. Surprisingly, there were no guards stationed outside. Either they¡¯d been dealt with in advance or DERT had pulled them inside.


    I followed at the rear, watching the team as they slipped into formation. Sasha led the way, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, while Carlyle stayed close behind, his every movement deliberate and poised. Yaksha trailed slightly behind them, his presence almost ghostlike.


    As we crossed the threshold, the oppressive energy of the dungeon pressed down on me like a lead weight. The walls shimmered faintly with veins of glowing minerals, and the air was thick with the sound of distant growls and shifting stone.


    Yaksha glanced back at me, his expression unreadable. ¡°Remember the plan, Reynard. Stick to it.¡±


    I gave a curt nod. It wasn¡¯t lost on me how much trust they were placing in me to execute my part of the operation. Then again, this was Yaksha¡¯s game, and trust didn¡¯t feel like the right word. Confidence, maybe. Control, definitely.

 72 Healing Aura

    The dungeon¡¯s third floor had a damp, eerie ambiance, with bioluminescent fungi casting a ghostly glow on the cracked stone walls. Allen, a young man with blonde hair and piercing green eyes, sat on the staircase leading to the fourth floor. He tapped his foot impatiently, his healer¡¯s staff resting across his lap. Despite being a rookie in the Dungeon Emergency Response Team, or DERT, Allen was eager to prove his worth. The team¡¯s strict adherence to protocol often left him sidelined, and he hated it.


    From above, heavy footsteps echoed. Soon, Karl emerged, his broad frame filling the stairwell. He was topless, his long brown hair wild and unkempt. His camo pants were streaked with grime and blood, evidence of the fifth floor¡¯s battle.


    ¡°Allen!¡± Karl called out with a booming voice, a wide grin plastered across his rugged face. ¡°Hopefully, you¡¯re not bored. We just cleaned up the fifth floor. Nasty critters up there.¡±


    Allen stood, shouldering his staff. ¡°Awfully hard at work, sir,¡± he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. ¡°I was hoping I could get in on the action, you know?¡±


    Felicia followed close behind Karl, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun. Her bow was slung across her back, and her piercings glinted in the faint light. Rings adorned her nose, lip, and exposed belly button, adding to her edgy appearance. Like Karl, she wore camo gear, though hers was fitted for mobility.


    Felicia smirked. ¡°Can¡¯t have that, rookie. What would we do if our precious healer got hurt?¡±


    Daniel, the team captain, brought up the rear. He was in his late fifties, his grizzled features and sharp eyes exuding authority. His uniform was pristine compared to the others, though his demeanor carried the weight of countless battles.


    ¡°We can¡¯t expose our healer to danger, can we?¡± Daniel said, his voice steady and calm.


    Lea, the youngest of the group, stepped forward with a haughty expression. She was petite, with sharp features that hinted at her noble lineage. Her long auburn hair was tied in a neat braid, and her camo uniform was tailored to perfection. She carried herself with an air of superiority, which often rubbed Allen the wrong way.


    ¡°Moreover,¡± Lea began, her tone clipped, ¡°you¡¯re a Caster, Allen. Yet you insist on fighting in close combat. It¡¯s reckless.¡±


    Allen bristled but kept his tone light. ¡°Just trying to be versatile, Lea. Can¡¯t always rely on spells, can we?¡±


    Lea crossed her arms, her emerald eyes narrowing. ¡°The Seven States of Aura exist for a reason. Casters shouldn¡¯t overstep their boundaries.¡±


    Felicia rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, give it a rest, Lea. Not everyone¡¯s stuck in the old ways like you.¡±


    The tension between Lea and Felicia was palpable, but Daniel quickly stepped in. ¡°Enough. We¡¯ve got work to do.¡±


    Karl clapped a hand on Allen¡¯s shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, kid. You¡¯ll get your chance soon enough. Just stick with us, and you¡¯ll learn a thing or two.¡±


    Lomar¡¯s spontaneous dungeon, codenamed Metal Spider, had earned its name for good reason. Metallic spiders skittered through its labyrinthine corridors, their gleaming exoskeletons reflecting the dim glow of phosphorescent moss. The dungeon, according to Felicia¡¯s analysis, was an anomaly in more ways than one.


    ¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± Felicia said, her tone contemplative as she led the group to the next floor. ¡°This dungeon is going upwards instead of downwards. Most spider-themed dungeons descend into the earth, not rise toward the sky.¡±


    Karl scratched his head, his long brown hair falling into his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s the word on this dungeon, boss?¡± he asked, glancing at Daniel. ¡°Are we going for a capture or are we killing it?¡±


    By killing it, Karl referred to destroying the dungeon core, effectively collapsing the dungeon. A capture, on the other hand, involved mapping the dungeon, securing it, and strategizing for long-term resource farming.


    Daniel adjusted his gear, his sharp eyes scanning the narrow passage ahead. ¡°We¡¯re going for a capture. The department¡¯s predicting a dungeon boom.¡±


    Felicia snorted, her skepticism clear. ¡°Or more likely, they¡¯re engineering it. The government¡¯s been too hands-on with dungeons lately.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re DERT, and that makes us basically govbernment,¡± added Lea.


    Lea sidled up to Allen, her braid swinging as she matched his pace. ¡°So, old man,¡± she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips, ¡°I heard you used to work in accounting?¡±


    Allen sighed, adjusting his grip on his staff. ¡°Yep. And I¡¯m not that old¡ªI¡¯m in my mid-thirties.¡±


    Lea¡¯s eyes sparkled with mischief. ¡°Sure, grandpa. So, are you really a Caster? A healing-type Caster is practically unheard of. It¡¯d make more sense if you were a Dealer.¡±


    Allen¡¯s expression tightened, but he forced a casual tone. ¡°A Caster¡¯s a Caster. Let¡¯s leave it at that.¡±


    The truth was more complicated. Allen was a Dealer-class, but he had his reasons for keeping it a secret. Dealer abilities came with costs¡ªoften steep and unpleasant. Sometimes ignorable costs. In Allen¡¯s case, his ability¡¯s cost was so grotesque that he¡¯d been forced to hide his, choosing accounting over the glory of hunting. And then the Gift Registry Department exposed his aura. Now, he was here, far from the desk job he¡¯d once enjoyed.


    The ground beneath them trembled. A low rumble grew into a deafening quake, and suddenly, the ceiling above tore open.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    From the gaping hole descended a massive metallic spider, its body gleaming like polished steel. Its center-mass had a radius of at least four meters, and the sharp, grinding sound of its limbs moving sent painful vibrations through the air.


    The creature¡¯s glowing red eyes locked onto Allen, and with terrifying speed, it lunged.


    Allen¡¯s body dissolved into mist a split second before the spider¡¯s razor-sharp limb struck. Frost spread across the limb, freezing it solid as the real Allen appeared several meters away, his staff glowing faintly.


    Lea stepped forward without hesitation, placing herself between Allen and the spider. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, as she summoned an array of illusory webs to distract the creature. As a hybrid Caster/Trickster, Lea specialized in deception and misdirection, and her aura was a perfect counter to the spider¡¯s mechanical precision.


    ¡°FORMATION C!¡± Daniel barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.


    The team moved like a well-oiled machine. Karl charged forward, his massive frame a blur as he swung his conjured battle axe with brutal efficiency. Felicia nocked an arrow, her keen eyes targeting the creature¡¯s vulnerable joints. Daniel ran to the opposite end, hiding to one corner.


    Allen steadied himself, suppressing the chill of his ability¡¯s cost. His role was clear: provide support and ensure no one fell in battle. Lea was besides him, raising her aura as of the moment.


    The metallic spider screeched, its frozen limb shattering under Karl¡¯s devastating blow.


    ¡°KKKZZZZZT~*KZZT~~*!¡±


    The creature wasn¡¯t just big¡ªit was fast, calculated, and unrelenting.


    Karl recklessly charged like a berseker, his massive battle axe swinging in arcs that could split most cryptids in two. But the spider¡¯s movements were almost surgical, its limbs parrying Karl¡¯s blows with metallic precision.


    ¡°This guy is parrying me,¡± Karl grunted, his voice tinged with frustration as he stepped back to reset his stance.


    Meanwhile, Felicia stood a few meters away, her bowstring taut as she unleashed arrow after arrow. As a Seeker, her precision was unparalleled, her aura allowing her to pierce through anything within her line of sight. Yet, the spider dodged her shots with unnatural agility, each arrow missing its mark by mere inches.


    ¡°And it¡¯s dodging my arrows!¡± Felicia exclaimed, her tone sharp with disbelief.


    Lea stepped in next, raising her hands and summoning a dozen frost lances. They materialized in midair, their icy edges glinting in the dim dungeon light. With a flick of her wrists, she sent them hurtling toward the spider. But the creature moved like a blur, evading or deflecting every single lance.


    The spider flickered, its body momentarily glitching like a distorted hologram. Then, it lunged straight for Felicia recognizing her threat.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± Daniel shouted.


    Felicia barely managed to dodge, her reflexes saving her from a direct hit. Even so, several of the spider¡¯s limbs grazed her, leaving deep lacerations across her arms and side. She staggered back, blood staining her camo gear.


    ¡°She¡¯s poisoned!¡± Daniel barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.


    ¡°I can handle that!¡± Allen responded.


    Allen raised his staff, an artifact that glowed faintly with a golden hue. His aura flared, latching onto Felicia like a tether. The wounds on her body began to close, the poison visibly dissipating as her skin healed at a rate that was almost unnatural.


    Felicia gave a shaky nod, her grip on her bow steadying. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Daniel, meanwhile, had been watching the spider with an intensity that only he could muster. As a Reader-class, his abilities went beyond observation; he could analyze patterns, predict movements, and even replicate techniques.


    ¡°I¡¯m done with my pattern analysis!¡± Daniel declared, his voice resolute.


    He stepped forward, drawing his rapier in a fluid motion. The weapon glinted as he performed a series of intricate maneuvers, each step calculated to perfection. The spider¡¯s limbs lashed out at him, but he danced around them with an elegance that seemed almost rehearsed.


    Round and round he went, his movements like a choreographed routine. Then, in a flash, he darted under the spider¡¯s massive body.


    With a precise thrust and a follow-up slash, Daniel struck at the creature¡¯s core. The sound of grinding metal filled the air as the spider convulsed, its limbs flailing wildly before collapsing in a heap. Sparks flew from its joints as its internal mechanisms shut down.


    The dungeon fell silent, save for the team¡¯s heavy breathing.


    ¡°Nice work,¡± Karl said, resting his axe on his shoulder.


    Felicia nodded, her eyes still wary. ¡°That thing was smarter than it had any right to be.¡±


    Lea smirked, lowering her hands. ¡°Guess the rookie¡¯s healing isn¡¯t half bad either.¡±


    Allen shrugged, his expression neutral. ¡°Just doing my job.¡±


    Daniel wiped his blade clean and turned to the rest of his team. ¡°Let¡¯s move. If this was just one of the guardians, the core won¡¯t go down without a fight.¡±


    The sound of slow clapping echoed through the chamber, a deliberate and mocking rhythm that drew everyone¡¯s attention. From the jagged hole in the ceiling descended a figure dressed in a pristine white uniform. His silver hair shimmered in the dim light of the dungeon, and purple flames danced along the edges of his clothes, giving him an otherworldly aura.


    Karl tightened his grip on his axe, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±


    Lea¡¯s expression darkened, fear flickering in her usually composed features. Her voice was a near whisper, but the weight of her words struck everyone like a hammer. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ the Yaksha.¡±


    Felicia raised an eyebrow, confusion laced in her tone. ¡°Yaksha what now? Who¡¯s that supposed to be?¡±


    Daniel stepped forward, his rapier at the ready. His usual calm demeanor was strained, his jaw set in grim determination. ¡°Retreat now. I¡¯ll hold him back.¡±


    Karl scoffed, his booming voice cutting through the tension. ¡°No way we¡¯re running off. I¡¯m not about to back down from a good fight!¡±


    Felicia glanced between Daniel and the figure descending from above, her bow half-drawn. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you, Daniel? Is this guy supposed to be a big deal?¡±


    The man in white touched down lightly, his movements fluid and unnervingly precise. His gaze swept over the group, his violet eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and menace.


    ¡°Lea Saleh. Gift: Frost Walker.¡± His voice was smooth, almost conversational, as if he were reading from a list.


    ¡°Karl Coreman. Gift: Axe Master. Felicia Alvarez. Gift: Pierce Through. Daniel Reeds. Gift: Perfect Pattern.¡±


    He turned his gaze to the final member of the group, a faint smile playing on his lips.


    ¡°And you¡­ Allen More. Gift: Life Bridge.¡±


    Allen stiffened under the man¡¯s scrutiny, gripping his staff tightly.


    The Yaksha spread his arms, his tone deceptively calm. ¡°No one here needs to die. Give me Allen More, and the rest of you may live.¡±


    The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of the purple flames that danced around Yaksha¡¯s form.


    Daniel¡¯s voice was firm as he stepped in front of Allen, his rapier raised defensively. ¡°You¡¯ll have to go through me first.¡±


    Yaksha tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. ¡°Brave words, Captain Reeds. But bravery won¡¯t save you.¡±


    Lea stepped forward, frost forming at her fingertips as her aura flared. ¡°If you think we¡¯re handing over one of our own, you¡¯re dead wrong.¡±


    Karl grinned, the tension in the air fueling his combat instincts. ¡°Finally, a real fight. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got!¡±


    Felicia¡¯s bow was drawn now, her arrow trained on Yaksha¡¯s chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, but you¡¯ve made a mistake coming here.¡±


    The Yaksha chuckled, the sound low and unnerving. ¡°So be it. Let¡¯s see how long your resolve lasts.¡±


    In an instant, the purple flames surged, and the room was bathed in their eerie glow. The battle had begun.

 73 Black Ring

    The dungeon core hovered before me, its surface a radiant blue sphere that pulsed with an inner light. It was mesmerizing in a way, but I couldn¡¯t afford to be distracted. My victory over the dungeon boss had been satisfying, though not challenging enough to leave me winded. I stood there, letting my aura settle, and glanced at the black ring on my finger.


    I¡¯d been analyzing this thing the entire time. The moment Yaksha handed it to me, I¡¯d suspected something was off. It had the same foundational structure as the ring Ayla had planted on me years ago. The realization hit me like a freight train: the World Order had been targeting me all along. This wasn¡¯t just a random mission or some coincidental alignment of interests. They¡¯d been laying the groundwork for this for a while.


    I¡¯d played along with Yaksha¡¯s little game long enough. It was time to act.


    The ring¡¯s primary function, as Yaksha explained, was to teleport me outside the dungeon. But after digging deeper into its structure, I uncovered a hidden layer. The ring was rigged with a spatial anchor¡ªa trap meant to hold me in place indefinitely. Classic World Order trickery. Too bad for them, I wasn¡¯t the same person they¡¯d tried to manipulate back then.


    I made my modifications, overriding the trap and reprogramming the teleportation function. With a flick of my aura, I activated it. The world blurred for a moment, the familiar sensation of spatial displacement washing over me, and then I was standing a short distance away from the dungeon entrance.


    The van we¡¯d arrived in was parked nearby, exactly where we¡¯d left it. Standing just outside, leaning against the side and looking as casual as ever, was Fu. His eyes were closed, and for a moment, I thought he was asleep. Then, without any visible movement, his eyes snapped open and locked onto me.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± he said, his tone calm but with a sharp edge. ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this, Reynard? I hope this is just a misunderstanding.¡±


    I met his gaze, unflinching. ¡°You¡¯re the real leader of this unit, aren¡¯t you? Yaksha¡¯s just a stand-in.¡±


    Fu¡¯s lips curled into a small smile, one that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re sharper than I gave you credit for. Fostering the next generation is a very important thing, you know. Yaksha needs the experience.¡±


    ¡°And you need a fall guy,¡± I shot back.


    Fu chuckled, pushing himself off the van. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. But tell me, what exactly do you plan to do now that you¡¯ve figured this out? You¡¯re a clever man, Reynard, but cleverness only gets you so far.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond immediately.


    Instead, I adjusted the ring on my finger, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. This was the point of no return. Whatever came next would decide how this game played out¡ªand I intended to win.


    I crossed my arms and stared Fu down. ¡°Tell me what the World Order desired to achieve by organizing the attack on my party five years ago.¡±


    Fu didn¡¯t flinch, his expression as calm as ever. ¡°The protection of the asset known as Ulrich,¡± he replied smoothly. ¡°Thomas was a sleeper agent of the World Order. Do you know? The Hunting Dogs¡¯ method of creating agents was very similar to ours. I don¡¯t mean to brag, but the Hunting Dogs copied our methods. Sorry, sorry¡­¡± He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°I¡¯m so old, I tend to reminisce and boast about stuff.¡±


    I let his words hang in the air, mulling them over. So, it had all been about Ulrich. I¡¯d suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still made my jaw clench.


    The World Order. I¡¯d written them as a chivalric knightly organization, dedicated to protecting the world. Noble on the surface, but rotting from within. They weren¡¯t supposed to be the final boss of Hunterworks. They were a force meant to shape the narrative, to challenge the protagonist¡¯s ideals and drive the story forward.


    The final boss? That was Ulrich.


    Targeting him had been more about my greed than anything else. I should¡¯ve stopped when I succeeded in killing the Prophet. The Prophet¡ªhe was the one who would have caused my and Leora¡¯s deaths in the first place. That should have been enough.


    In an alternate timeline, referring to the original story I¡¯d written, I should already be dead by now. Leora would still be alive, mourning me. In a different timeline, the one where I¡¯d stopped after killing the Prophet and letting Ulrich the Elsewhere Saint go, Leora and I would still be alive. We¡¯d probably live a long, peaceful life together. My son wouldn¡¯t hate me.


    But this wasn¡¯t an alternate timeline. This was the one I was stuck in, and the weight of every choice I¡¯d made bore down on me like a leaden chain. I clenched my fists, focusing on the present.


    ¡°Where is Leora?¡± I asked, my voice steady but low.


    Fu¡¯s smile widened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. ¡°Ah, the question I was waiting for. You always circle back to her, don¡¯t you? Love and guilt, the twin pillars of your existence.¡±


    I took a step forward, my aura bristling. ¡°Don¡¯t test my patience.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Patience?¡± Fu laughed softly. ¡°You don¡¯t have much of that left, do you, Reynard? Fine, I¡¯ll indulge you. Leora is safe. Safer than you could ever make her. But if you¡¯re so determined to find her, you¡¯ll have to deal with me first.¡±


    I didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°If you¡¯re standing between me and her, then I¡¯ll tear you down.¡±


    Fu sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Always so dramatic. Very well, Reynard. Show me if you¡¯re as formidable as the stories say.¡±


    I equipped the Power-build, selecting attributes tailored for the situation: Strength for overwhelming force, Toughness for resilience, Swiftness for precision, and Weakness to disrupt Fu¡¯s balance. The aura around me shifted, a potent cocktail of power coiling within my body like a spring ready to snap. I crouched slightly, tension in my legs, one hand raised with my palm open in a deceptively relaxed manner.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. ¡°Do you want me to let you in on a secret?¡±


    Fu flicked his robe, his movements sharp and deliberate as he shifted into a tiger stance. His legs spread wide, and his arms were coiled with energy, ready to strike. ¡°Oho~¡± he said, his tone dripping with confidence. ¡°There isn¡¯t a thing I don¡¯t know about you.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I chuckled, straightening slightly. ¡°Then let me enlighten you. The one who made the Gift Registry Department possible? The one who created and disseminated the Gift Theory? The one who helped Bob raise the Hunter Academy?¡± I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. ¡°That¡¯s all me.¡±


    For a moment, Fu¡¯s composed facade cracked. His eyes widened, the shock clear as day. It was the opening I needed. In a flash, I closed the distance between us, my knife hand slicing through the air toward his neck. He reacted quickly, dispersing the force of my strike by expanding his aura at the point of impact. A smart move, but I wasn¡¯t done.


    I ducked low as his counter kick whistled over my head, the air displacement enough to sting. Without hesitation, I swept his legs from under him, aiming to disrupt his stance. Fu flickered, summoning a portal just before my strike connected. He reappeared a few meters away, his expression calm but his stance guarded.


    ¡°Quick reflexes,¡± I said, straightening up and brushing off my sleeves. ¡°But let¡¯s be real. The World Order loves their status quo, don¡¯t they? Clinging to it like a child to a security blanket.¡± I took a step forward, letting my aura ripple outward, an unspoken challenge. ¡°Do you know what? I¡¯m going to break it.¡±


    Fu¡¯s expression hardened, his aura flaring in response.


    ¡°And I¡¯m going to enjoy doing it,¡± I finished, my grin turning predatory.


    Fu sighed, shaking his head as though scolding a wayward child. ¡°You should cut an old man like me some slack,¡± he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of tension.


    I smirked, raising my right hand and wiggling my fingers. ¡°It should be me telling you that. One arm, remember?¡±


    His eyes narrowed, his stance shifting ever so slightly. ¡°You¡¯re just a child who doesn¡¯t know the immensity of the distance between heaven and earth!¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d say twelve miles is a good guess.¡±


    Fu clapped his hands together, and the air around us seemed to ripple unnaturally. ¡°Otherworldly Horrors of the Beyond!¡± he intoned, his voice echoing like a thunderclap.


    The world around me shifted. Colors bled out, replaced by an oppressive monochrome. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as though reality itself had been unraveled. Everything turned grayscale¡ªexcept for me.


    Fu grinned, his expression one of triumph. ¡°I¡¯ve turned the world into a portal. Everything here is part of it, except you. This technique takes a toll on me, true. Sadly, I still can¡¯t compare to Mr. Silhouette.¡±


    From the monochrome ground beneath me, eldritch tentacles erupted, writhing and pulsating as they reached out to ensnare me.


    I glanced at the encroaching limbs, unimpressed. ¡°Cool power,¡± I said, cracking my neck. ¡°But nah, I¡¯ll win.¡±


    I focused my aura, bending the space around me with precision. The monochrome world fractured like glass, shards of its eerie hue scattering in all directions as the vibrant colors of reality returned.


    Fu stumbled, his eyes wide with disbelief. ¡°What?¡±


    He clapped his hands again, summoning a portal behind him, but the swirling vortex dissolved the moment it formed.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he demanded, his voice edged with panic.


    I raised my hand, curling my fingers except for the one where the black ring should have been. I wiggled it for emphasis. ¡°Spatial anchor,¡± I said casually. ¡°Remember?¡±


    Fu¡¯s gaze dropped to his own hand, and his face paled when he saw the black ring now snug on his finger¡ªthe same ring I was supposed to be wearing.


    ¡°H-how? When?¡±


    I shrugged, smirking. ¡°Slipped it on you during our little skirmish earlier. You¡¯re not as sharp as you used to be, old man.¡±


    Fu took a step back, but there was no escape. The spatial anchor had him locked in place.


    I flexed my fingers, my aura sparking around me. ¡°Now,¡± I said, my grin turning wicked, ¡°I¡¯m going to take my sweet time hurting you real bad, old man.¡±


    I shifted my aura, letting the Soul-build attributes take over¡ªConnection, Puppetry, Weakness, and Homing. The moment the shift completed, I felt the familiar, subtle hum of power coursing through me, like strings of energy waiting to be plucked.


    Fu clawed at the black ring on his finger, desperation etched into his face. ¡°Damn it!¡± he cursed, tugging and twisting to no avail.


    I smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t bother. It¡¯s not coming off.¡±


    With the Weakness attribute already infecting him from our earlier clash, my aura had latched onto his like a predator sinking its teeth into prey. I raised my hand, drawing on the connection, and a spectral chain materialized from the air, wrapping around his throat like a serpent.


    Fu¡¯s eyes widened, and he clawed at the chain, gasping as I gave it a sharp tug. ¡°Gotcha,¡± I muttered.


    I yanked hard, dragging him toward me with a burst of force. As he stumbled forward, I caught him by the throat with my one hand. My body moved unnaturally, the Puppetry attribute amplifying my strength far beyond human limits.


    With a single motion, I slammed him into the ground. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through the stone, leaving a small crater beneath him. Fu groaned, his aura flickering weakly as more chains manifested around him, binding his arms, legs, and torso.


    I crouched over him, tightening the chain around his throat just enough to make my point. ¡°Now,¡± I said, my voice low and menacing, ¡°I¡¯m going to ask real nicely¡­ Where. Is. Leora?¡±


    Fu wheezed, coughing as he struggled to meet my gaze. Then, to my surprise, he started laughing¡ªa dry, rasping sound that sent a chill down my spine.


    ¡°Dead,¡± he said, grinning like a madman. ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡±


    My grip on the chain faltered for a split second, the words cutting through me like a blade. ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± I said, though my voice lacked conviction.


    Fu¡¯s grin widened, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. ¡°Am I? You¡¯re chasing ghosts, Reynard. You always have been. And in the end, it¡¯ll destroy you.¡±


    I tightened the chain again, my heart pounding. ¡°You¡¯d better hope you¡¯re lying,¡± I hissed. ¡°Because if you¡¯re not, I¡¯ll make you wish you were.¡± But even as I said it, a seed of doubt took root in my mind, threatening to grow into something far darker.

 74 Written Off?

    Leora¡¯s voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber, filled with fury and determination.


    ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE WRITE ME OFF, YOU SHITTY AUTHOR! I AM NOT AN ON-AND-OFF HEROINE, YOU DUMBASS!¡±


    Her shout reverberated like a war cry, raw and unrestrained.


    The first swing cleaved through a cluster of shadowy figures advancing toward her, their forms disintegrating into wisps of darkness. The second blow followed seamlessly, slashing a larger, more formidable foe in half before it could counterattack. The third swing sent a shockwave rippling through the room, forcing the remaining enemies to scatter.


    Her breathing was ragged, her body drenched in sweat, but her eyes burned with a defiant fire. ¡°You think I¡¯m just some disposable side character?¡± she growled, glaring at the encroaching horde. ¡°You¡¯ve got another thing coming.¡±


    The chamber around her was a grotesque mix of stone and flesh, pulsating with a sickly, unnatural glow. It was the heart of a corrupted dungeon, a place where reality itself seemed to twist and writhe. Leora stood at its center, a lone figure against an overwhelming tide of enemies.


    Despite the odds, she refused to back down. She wasn¡¯t fighting for survival alone¡ªthis was a statement, a rebellion against the narrative that sought to erase her.


    Another wave of creatures surged toward her, their grotesque forms merging into a massive, chimeric beast. Its many eyes glowed with malice as it roared, shaking the ground beneath her feet.


    Leora smirked, tightening her grip on her glaive. ¡°Bring it on.¡±


    With a burst of aura, she launched herself forward, meeting the monstrosity head-on. Her sword shone with a brilliant light, cutting through the darkness like a beacon. The clash was deafening, the impact sending shockwaves throughout the chamber.


    As the beast fell, its form collapsing into a heap of dissolving shadows, Leora stood victorious. Her gaze shifted upward, as if challenging the unseen force she was railing against.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± she said, her voice steady and resolute. ¡°This is my story too.¡±


    The air in the chamber grew impossibly heavy, a crushing presence descending upon Leora as the silhouette figure stepped forward. Its form was indistinct, a smudge of darkness shaped into a man in a suit. But it was the voice¡ªcalm, detached, and utterly devoid of humanity¡ªthat chilled her to the bone.


    ¡°That¡¯s what they all say,¡± the figure remarked, its tone devoid of interest, as though Leora¡¯s fiery defiance was nothing more than a fleeting breeze.


    Leora tightened her grip on her katana, her instincts screaming at her to act, to strike first. Yet something held her back. The figure radiated a power that was fundamentally different from anything she had encountered. It wasn¡¯t overwhelming strength or the suffocating malice of the dungeon¡¯s creatures. No, it was the cold, apathetic authority of something far beyond mortal comprehension.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Leora began, her voice steady despite the storm of questions swirling in her mind. ¡°You¡¯re not Mr. Silhouette, are you?¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    The figure tilted its head slightly, as if considering her words. ¡°Mr. Silhouette? Oh, yes, one of the Seven Extremes, isn¡¯t he? An amusing title, though wholly undeserved. No, I am not him. I am¡­ something greater. Something final.¡±


    The cadence of its voice sent a shiver down her spine. There was no pride, no arrogance¡ªjust a clinical certainty that made her stomach churn.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Leora demanded, raising her katana, her aura flaring defiantly.


    ¡°Who am I?¡± the figure echoed, as if amused by the question. ¡°A god, perhaps. Or something close enough to one that the distinction becomes meaningless.¡±


    It gestured toward the collapsing remnants of the dungeon, the glowing core flickering as if struggling to stay alight. ¡°A pity, truly. You have so much potential. A vibrant, defiant little flame burning in a dark and meaningless void.¡±


    Leora¡¯s grip tightened. ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me.¡±


    The figure chuckled¡ªa sound devoid of warmth. ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t dream of it. But it doesn¡¯t matter. None of this does. I just have to clean the slate one more time. And then¡­¡±


    It paused, as if savoring the thought. ¡°Rewrite the story. Yes, that sounds fitting.¡±


    Leora¡¯s heart pounded in her chest. ¡°You think you can just erase everything? Rewrite it all like none of it mattered?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the figure replied, its tone as casual as discussing the weather. ¡°That¡¯s the beauty of a story, isn¡¯t it? No matter how many times it falls apart, it can always begin anew.¡±


    Leora¡¯s aura surged, her defiance flaring brighter than ever. ¡°Not this time. Not if I have anything to say about it.¡±


    The figure remained unmoved, its shadowy form unshaken by her resolve. ¡°Oh, how delightful. Another mortal clinging to hope, to purpose. Do you truly believe you can stand against me?¡±


    Leora¡¯s katana glimmered with her aura as she stepped forward, her gaze locked onto the enigmatic figure. ¡°You¡¯re damn right I do.¡±


    The shadow shifted, the smudged edges of its form unwinding like smoke caught in a breeze. Leora tensed, her katana poised, her aura coiled and ready to strike. But then the darkness peeled away, revealing something she hadn¡¯t expected¡ªcouldn¡¯t have expected.


    A face emerged from the gloom, and her breath caught in her throat.


    ¡°Reynard?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of her flaring aura.


    The figure now standing before her bore the unmistakable features of Reynard¡ªthe sharp jawline, the piercing eyes that once held both mischief and resolve, and the faint smirk she¡¯d seen countless times before. But something was wrong.


    His eyes glowed faintly, devoid of their usual warmth. His expression was a hollow echo of the Reynard she knew, as if he were a mere puppet wearing his face.


    ¡°Leora,¡± the figure said, its voice a perfect mimicry of Reynard¡¯s, but with an undercurrent of something foreign, something cold. ¡°Why do you resist?¡±


    She stumbled back a step, her grip on the katana faltering for the first time. This wasn¡¯t him¡ªit couldn¡¯t be.


    ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡± she demanded, her voice trembling. ¡°What kind of trick is this?¡±


    The shadowy form, now fully resembling Reynard, tilted its head, the faint smirk growing. ¡°No trick. No illusion. I am as real as the world you stand upon. And yet¡­¡±


    It stepped forward, and the chamber seemed to shrink around them, the oppressive weight of its presence growing. ¡°I am also everything you fear, everything you¡¯ve lost. And everything you cannot change.¡±


    Leora¡¯s chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over her¡ªanger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing sadness.


    ¡°You¡¯re not him,¡± she spat, forcing strength into her voice. ¡°You¡¯re just another monster wearing his face.¡±


    The figure paused, the smirk fading. ¡°Perhaps. But does it matter? In the end, all stories end the same way.¡±


    And then, without warning, the world fractured.


    It was as if reality itself shattered, pieces of the chamber splintering and falling into an infinite void. The air grew cold, and the light dimmed, leaving only Leora and the figure standing in the midst of the collapse.


    Leora gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand tall against the onslaught of chaos. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you are. I¡¯ll fight you. I¡¯ll fight until my last breath if that¡¯s what it takes.¡±


    The figure, still wearing Reynard¡¯s face, laughed¡ªa hollow, echoing sound that reverberated through the crumbling void.


    ¡°Then let the world end,¡± it said, spreading its arms wide. ¡°And we¡¯ll see what remains.¡±


    The final fragments of the world around them fell away, plunging them into darkness.

 75 Yaksha of Flames

    The remnants of the fierce battle hung heavy in the air as Yaksha extinguished the purple flames that had devoured the opposition. The atrium of the dungeon, now a battlefield strewn with debris and bodies, was eerily quiet. The narrow pathways of the labyrinthine structure hemmed them in, amplifying the tension.


    Only Adam remained standing among the DERT members, his stance defiant despite the overwhelming odds. Behind him, Sasha wiped the blood from her blade with an air of grim satisfaction, the aftermath of her brutal work on Felicia and Lea. Carlyle, composed as ever, stood beside Yaksha, his sharp gaze betraying no emotion.


    Adam broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with a faint, mocking edge. ¡°What do you want with me?¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s expression was unreadable, his eyes cold as he answered. ¡°Your Gift will be of great use to the World Order. The immortality function we¡¯ve been outsourcing from the Elsewhere Cult is no longer viable, and my superiors are... impatient.¡±


    Adam¡¯s lips curled into a smirk, a sharp, cutting sound escaping him. ¡°Heh~!¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s brows furrowed. For the first time, he sensed something was off. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    Adam chuckled, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a pair of reading glasses. He slid them on with a flourish, the lenses catching the dim light. With deliberate movements, he ruffled his dark brown hair, transforming his entire demeanor.


    ¡°Let me reintroduce myself,¡± he said, his voice carrying a playful lilt. ¡°The name¡¯s Loki.¡±


    For a moment, the atrium was silent, the weight of his words sinking in.


    Sasha reacted first, her instincts honed by years of combat. She lunged forward, her sword raised to strike, but the motion stopped cold. Frost encased her arm in an instant, spreading up her blade and immobilizing her.


    ¡°What¡ª?!¡± she hissed, her breath visible in the icy air.


    Before she could react further, Felicia¡ªalive and very much unscathed¡ªemerged from the shadows. With a fluid motion, she slammed the sheath of her bow into Sasha¡¯s weapon, disarming her, and drove an arrow into her throat with unerring precision. Sasha collapsed in a heap, her eyes wide in disbelief.


    Yaksha¡¯s gaze darted between the unfolding chaos and Loki, his calm demeanor slipping. ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this?¡±


    Loki spread his arms in a mock bow, his grin wide and infuriating. ¡°Guess where Adam is? Hint: I made the swap while we were fighting. You never even noticed.¡±


    Carlyle, who had remained silent until now, took a step forward, his voice cutting through the tension. ¡°What¡¯s the leader of the Undead Troupe doing here?¡±


    Loki turned to him, wagging a finger in mock admonishment. ¡°Ah, Carlyle, always so serious. But that¡¯s the wrong question, my friend. The real question is¡ªwhat happens next?¡±


    As he spoke, the air around them shimmered, the telltale sign of illusions breaking and reality bending. Felicia stepped forward, her bow at the ready, while Loki¡¯s grin widened, his aura radiating confidence.


    Yaksha clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. ¡°You think you¡¯ve won, trickster?¡±


    Loki laughed with a carefree and almost jovial sound. ¡°Oh, Yaksha. Winning and losing? Those are just illusions too. Now, let¡¯s see how well you play in my world.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s gaze lingered on Felicia and Lea, his expression darkening with suspicion. They should have been dead¡ªSash¡¯s strikes had been fatal. A closer look, however, revealed the truth: they were dead. But they weren¡¯t alive, either.


    ¡°They¡¯re undead,¡± Yaksha muttered, his voice a low growl. His eyes narrowed as he addressed Loki. ¡°Is that why you call your group the Undead Troupe? Because you use undead? What¡¯s your Gift? Necromancy?¡±


    Loki grinned, unbothered by the accusation. ¡°Necromancy? Oh, please. Such a limited view of the world. Gift theory? Not my style. I prefer the old ways. The Seven States of Aura¡ªthey offer so much more freedom, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Yaksha didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he wreathed himself in purple flames, his aura crackling with raw power. Without hesitation, he charged at Loki, flames trailing behind him like a comet.


    As he closed the distance, Yaksha felt a small sense of relief. At least he had reduced the other two members of DERT to ash earlier. If they had been revived as well, this battle would have dragged on far longer than he could afford.


    Loki dodged Yaksha¡¯s fiery projectiles with ease, his movements fluid and almost playful. ¡°Come on, Yaksha,¡± Loki called, twisting his body to avoid another blast. ¡°You¡¯re too rigid. Loosen up a little!¡±


    Felicia drew her bow, her undead form eerily calm as she loosed a volley of arrows. Yaksha¡¯s eyes flicked to the incoming projectiles. He recognized their precision and knew he couldn¡¯t dodge them all. His Gift flared, and he teleported in a burst of flames, reappearing just inches from Loki.


    Yaksha¡¯s fist, blazing with purple fire, shot forward in a powerful punch. It connected¡ªbut not with Loki. The trickster dissolved into mist, leaving Yaksha¡¯s blow to pass harmlessly through.


    Before Yaksha could recover, Lea appeared at his flank, her hands radiating icy energy. A cryokinetic blast erupted at point-blank range, threatening to encase him in frost.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Yaksha muttered, twisting his body and summoning his flames in a defensive burst. Carlyle reacted swiftly, raising a shimmering force wall that encased Lea. Her own cryokinetic energy backfired, freezing her in place.


    Loki whistled, clapping his hands slowly. ¡°Impressive! You really do know how to handle yourselves. But¡­¡± He raised his hand in the shape of a finger gun, aiming it at Carlyle. ¡°Bang~!¡±


    Carlyle¡¯s head popped off with a sickening sound, revealing a figure standing behind him¡ªa woman clad in revealing silk garments, her expression one of cold amusement.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°And lo and behold,¡± Loki said, his tone dripping with mockery. ¡°One of my team members has arrived. Or not. Nah, just messing with you. She¡¯s the only one I brought along. No need to panic about being outnumbered.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s teeth clenched. His original plan to capture Loki and extract information was rapidly slipping away. He had no choice but to unleash the full power of his Gift.


    ¡°Gates of Gehenna!¡± Yaksha roared, his flames surging to life. The atrium was engulfed in an inferno, purple fire consuming everything in its path as it surged toward Loki.


    When the flames dissipated, Yaksha froze. Loki stood untouched, the shimmer of a force wall surrounding him.


    In Yaksha¡¯s peripheral vision, Carlyle¡¯s headless body remained upright, his aura disturbingly intact.


    Loki¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Checkmate.¡±


    Felicia¡¯s arrows rained down once more, their trajectory guided with supernatural precision. Yaksha incinerated them mid-air, the heat of his flames warping the air around him.


    ¡°You¡¯re persistent, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± Loki said, shrugging. ¡°But man, you¡¯re stubborn!¡±


    Yaksha gritted his teeth and chose retreat. He teleported out of the dungeon, a feat not most hunters would be able to achieve.


    The forest was eerily quiet when Yaksha reappeared at the extraction point, the scent of charred flesh and scorched earth lingering in the air from his previous battle. He steadied himself, expecting to see Fu waiting by the van, perhaps with that smug look he always wore.


    Instead, his gaze fell on a dismembered body. Fu¡¯s remains were scattered, his severed limbs twisted unnaturally, and chains glowing faintly with residual energy hung in the air like malevolent specters.


    Standing by the van, unbothered by the grisly scene, was Reynard. His suit remained pristine, and his single arm rested casually at his side. He exuded an aura of composed lethality, as though this slaughter was beneath his notice.


    Yaksha let out a dry laugh, masking the unease bubbling within him. ¡°I didn¡¯t see that coming. I thought we were betraying you, only for the tables to be turned against us.¡±


    Reynard¡¯s expression was unreadable, his voice calm and measured. ¡°Where is Leora?¡±


    Yaksha hesitated but maintained his composure. ¡°Unknown.¡±


    Reynard¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°Why target me all along?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a loose end,¡± Yaksha admitted, shrugging as though it were nothing personal. ¡°The upper brass decided we were better off without you.¡±


    ¡°A pity¡­¡± Reynard muttered, almost to himself.


    Yaksha gestured to Fu¡¯s remains. ¡°You managed to slaughter him. Now, that¡¯s the most unexpected development I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    Reynard glanced briefly at the chains still suspended in the air. ¡°He let his guard down, thinking of himself as invincible. He was a fool.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s flames flickered to life, casting a fiery glow around him. ¡°So, are we gonna keep on yapping, or are we fighting?¡±


    Reynard didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, he took a single step forward, his remaining hand flexing slightly. ¡°One last question. Leora¡¯s last known location¡ªwhere is it?¡±


    ¡°Off-world,¡± Yaksha replied, his tone firm but guarded.


    Reynard tilted his head, his expression almost amused. ¡°By off-world, you mean another dimension. That¡¯s easy enough to deduce, considering Ulrich¡¯s involvement. It¡¯s funny how you try to mislead me when we both know outer space is a convenient fabrication. Or rather, a very complicated omission.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s flames surged as he processed Reynard¡¯s words. ¡°You certainly know a lot. The mundane population was led to believe we live on a sphere, but the truth has been safeguarded for centuries. The world was broken long ago. It¡¯s one of the World Order¡¯s most protected secrets.¡±


    Reynard¡¯s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. ¡°Yes, I know. But I have no intention of doing what you¡¯re thinking. I have no plans to reveal to the masses that the world is fractured.¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s smirk returned, though it was forced. ¡°Finally, it makes sense. You¡¯re the one behind publicizing knowledge about Aura. You¡¯ve been a thorn in the Order¡¯s side for years.¡±


    Reynard remained silent, but the blue strings of aura around him pulsed with an almost hypnotic rhythm, weaving in and out of existence like living threads.


    Yaksha¡¯s body ignited fully, flames consuming every inch of him except for his eyes, which burned with defiance. ¡°You know what I can do. A single touch from you could end me, so I¡¯ll make sure that doesn¡¯t happen.¡±


    Reynard¡¯s aura strings shimmered brighter, their movements quickening as though in response to Yaksha¡¯s challenge.


    The two men stood locked in a silent standoff, the tension between them thick and suffocating. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the inevitable clash of fire and will.


    The tension shattered in an instant.


    Yaksha flickered to Reynard¡¯s left, conjuring a flaming spear mid-motion. The weapon roared to life, radiating a fierce heat that could incinerate most foes. Yet Reynard stood unfazed, his posture relaxed, as though Yaksha¡¯s sudden attack was a mere inconvenience.


    Even now, Reynard¡¯s abilities remained an enigma. The King of Favors was known for his lethal touch, his mastery of chains and strings of aura, and his seemingly boundless adaptability. Records of his past engagements hinted at super speed, super strength, and abilities that defied categorization.


    Yaksha¡¯s theory lingered in his mind as he pressed the attack: Reynard didn¡¯t possess a singular Gift. Instead, he wielded multiple configurations of his aura, each capable of mimicking or creating unique Gifts. If Reynard was truly one of the minds behind the Gift Theory, it made sense that he could manifest and shift between various abilities at will.


    As Yaksha thrust the flaming spear forward, Reynard¡¯s aura shimmered, becoming denser and more robust. The spear struck him directly but dissipated against the aura, as though it had struck an impenetrable barrier. Reynard moved, seizing Yaksha by the throat with his remaining hand.


    Yaksha flickered again, this time reappearing behind Reynard. He summoned twin swords of flame, their edges crackling with destructive energy. But Reynard¡¯s aura shifted once more, becoming fluid yet impenetrable. With a single arm, he parried the swords effortlessly, then countered with a knife-hand strike aimed at Yaksha¡¯s neck.


    The strike barely missed, and Yaksha felt the rush of displaced air graze his skin. Reynard¡¯s aura changed again. Without warning, chains of glowing blue aura erupted from Yaksha¡¯s conjured swords, snaking toward him with predatory intent.


    Yaksha cursed under his breath and dispelled the weapons, teleporting a few meters away. He barely had time to process his escape before Reynard struck again. A crater formed where Yaksha had been standing, dust and debris scattering in every direction. Reynard stood at its center, his aura pulsating like a living force.


    At the last microsecond, Reynard¡¯s aura shifted yet again, and he burst into super speed. The gap between them vanished in an instant. Yaksha only barely avoided a killing blow, his teleportation saving him once more.


    If Yaksha was any second slower, he¡¯d been that crater.


    The truth was undeniable¡ªYaksha was outmatched. Just days ago, he had been confident he could contend with Reynard. Now, that confidence felt like a distant memory, shattered by the overwhelming power he faced.


    His mind flashed back to his encounter with Loki, where he had been similarly overpowered. The world, despite its flat nature, was proving to be far larger and more dangerous than Yaksha had ever imagined.


    He made a split-second decision: escape. Yaksha activated his teleportation, intending to put as much distance as possible between himself and Reynard.


    Instead, he slammed into an invisible barrier, a spatial distortion that stopped him cold. It was as if he had collided with an unyielding wall.


    Reynard¡¯s voice broke the silence, calm and unyielding. ¡°Surprise¡­ There¡¯s a spatial anchor here. I placed it beforehand. With it active, you won¡¯t be teleporting just anywhere. Your teleportation is impressive, though¡ªmanaging to use it despite the anchor. I¡¯ll give you that.¡±


    Yaksha turned to face him, his flames flaring in frustration.


    Reynard took a slow step forward, his aura shifting subtly yet ominously. ¡°So, what¡¯s it going to be? Are you going to fight me to the death? Or are you going to squirm?¡±


    Yaksha clenched his fists, his flames burning hotter than ever. But deep down, he knew the truth. Reynard had already won.

 76 Interrogation

    Deep breaths.


    Each inhale felt like shards of glass scraping through my lungs, the strain on my [Existence] growing heavier with every use of my Gift. The pain was familiar, a constant companion I¡¯d carried for years. I¡¯d endured too much, sacrificed too deeply, to falter now.


    Yaksha writhed in my Soul Chains, cocooned and subdued. Subduing him without killing him had been a delicate dance, but my preparation had paid off. The ring I now wore and edited acted as a spatial anchor, but that alone wouldn¡¯t have been enough to contain him. Fu¡¯s dismembered limbs, scattered strategically as additional anchors, ensured Yaksha couldn¡¯t teleport out. His teleportation was unlike any I¡¯d encountered¡ªraw, overwhelming, capable of bypassing nearly every obstacle. Yet here he was, trapped.


    The battle had left me drained, but I pushed through, recycling Yaksha¡¯s aura into myself while flooding him with mine. It was a brutal process, a technique derived from aura sabotage, meant to erode his will and complete the adjacent mind control.


    I stared at him, my voice calm but firm. ¡°I will ask again. Where is Leora?¡±


    His resistance faltered as he rasped, ¡°Alternate world.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What do you know of Cryptid-008, codenamed Truck-kun?¡±


    ¡°Spatial distortion abilities,¡± Yaksha said, his voice strained. ¡°Capable of fabricating entire worlds¡­ plausibly time travel.¡±


    ¡°Where is Truck-kun¡¯s last known location?¡±


    ¡°Unknown¡­¡± he admitted. ¡°Last intel suggests it¡¯s now working with Cryptid-005, Nobody.¡±


    My jaw tightened. ¡°Where is Ulrich¡¯s last known location?¡±


    Yaksha hesitated before replying, ¡°Three days in the future¡­ Capital City.¡±


    I pressed further. ¡°I knew as much. But where in the Capital City?¡±


    His eyes flickered with frustration. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡±


    I leaned closer, my tone colder. ¡°Where is Cryptid-001, codenamed God?¡±


    His gaze snapped to mine, surprise flickering in his expression. ¡°You even know that¡­ I don¡¯t know where it is.¡±


    ¡°What is God¡¯s last known location?¡±


    Yaksha¡¯s breathing quickened. ¡°What¡­ are you planning?¡±


    I let a small, bitter smile cross my lips. ¡°You sure have strong willpower. What am I planning? I¡¯m going to beg God to give me Leora back.¡±


    His expression shifted, a mix of disbelief and grim determination. ¡°I¡­¡±


    And then he smiled. A cold, knowing smile. Before I could react, I felt the sudden, violent surge of his aura that I stole. He was imploding it, trying to take me down with him.


    Pain erupted along the left side of my body as his aura burned through me. I severed the connection and forced his rogue aura into the atmosphere, dispersing it before it could do more damage. My left arm hung limp, scorched and useless for the moment.


    Yaksha coughed, blood trickling from his lips. With a defiant gleam in his eyes, he bit down on his tongue.


    ¡°No!¡± I shouted, lunging toward him.


    But it was too late. His body went limp, his life extinguished by his own hand.


    I stared at the lifeless form before me, fury and exhaustion warring within. My only lead had burned himself out, taking critical answers with him.


    The forest around me fell silent, save for the faint hum of lingering chains. I clenched my remaining fist, ignoring the searing pain in my body.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find her,¡± I muttered to the void. ¡°No matter what it takes.¡±


    The forest was quiet except for the distant rustling of leaves and the faint hum of tension in the air. My burned side throbbed relentlessly, the aftermath of Yaksha¡¯s last desperate move. I could feel the seared flesh pulling uncomfortably against my movements, but I kept my posture steady. Pain was an old friend.


    Loki¡¯s voice broke the silence as he emerged from the treeline. He carried Adam slung over one shoulder, as if the man were a sack of potatoes.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Yo~ nice seeing you!¡± Loki greeted, his voice light and mocking. His eyes flicked to the burns on my body. ¡°Nasty burn marks. Want me to wake this guy up to patch you up?¡±


    I shook my head, glancing at the unconscious Adam. ¡°That can wait. We need to leave first. Lomar¡¯s police department is not to be underestimated.¡±


    Loki waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Nah, we¡¯ll be fine. I had the other Troupe members stage a robbery on the opposite end of the city. Total chaos over there. No one¡¯s coming here anytime soon.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, Loki pinched Adam¡¯s nose and clamped his jaw shut, forcing him awake. Adam thrashed, gasping for air as Loki released him.


    ¡°What the¡­ what the hell?¡± Adam coughed, clutching his throat and stumbling to his feet.


    Kara materialized beside me like a ghost, her sudden presence catching me off guard. Her stealth abilities had improved since the last time I saw her. Gone was the purple, silk-clad figure I remembered; she now wore white, though her outfit still clung to the same belly-dancer theme.


    ¡°Nasty burns,¡± she remarked, her tone dry.


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I replied.


    Loki clapped his hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm. ¡°Wakey-wakey, Adam! We¡¯re your saviors!¡±


    Adam blinked, disoriented. ¡°What¡¯s happening? Where¡¯s the others?¡±


    Loki smirked, pointing at me. ¡°Ask him.¡±


    I crossed my arms, keeping my tone steady. ¡°I¡¯m recruiting. Thinking of building my own team.¡±


    Loki¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh man, you could¡¯ve just hired my Undead Troupe, you know? We¡¯re always open for business.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I can¡¯t. The Troupe is loyal to you. I need people who won¡¯t be loyal to anyone but themselves. And no, I¡¯m not building a mercenary group. My goal is bigger¡ªI¡¯m going to replace the World Order.¡±


    Adam, still rubbing his temples, looked at me sharply. ¡°And why would I join you? Where¡¯s the rest of DERT?¡±


    Loki leaned against a tree, a mocking glint in his eyes. ¡°Amnesia much? If you mean DERT, they¡¯re dead. Killed by the World Order¡¯s dogs.¡± He gestured toward Yaksha¡¯s lifeless body. ¡°That guy? That¡¯s Yaksha. Recognize him?¡±


    I glanced at the corpse. ¡°That¡¯s him, alright.¡±


    Loki shrugged. ¡°Not much of a big deal, really. He killed half your DERT buddies, and the sword lady got the other half. PS: I killed the sword lady. So, if my team needs healing, I hope you would look at us kindly.¡±


    ¡°Loki,¡± I said, my tone warning, ¡°stop bothering him.¡±


    ¡°My bad, my bad,¡± Loki said, though his grin remained. ¡°I gotta say, though, knowing how his ability works, I kinda want to recruit him myself.¡±


    Adam stepped toward me, raising a hand. His aura pulsed faintly as he channeled his healing ability, knitting the burned flesh on my side. The pain dulled, replaced by a cool sensation as my skin repaired itself.


    Adam¡¯s expression was unreadable as he spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but if you can promise my safety, I¡¯ll work for you. But if you compromise that safety, I¡¯ll do one of two things: run away or kill myself on the spot.¡±


    Kara chuckled, her voice laced with amusement. ¡°This guy¡¯s got guts. Are you sure, Loki, that he used to be some pen-pusher?¡±


    Loki shrugged, his grin never faltering. ¡°Pen-pusher or not, he¡¯s got potential. You sure you don¡¯t want me to take him off your hands, Reynard?¡±


    I met Adam¡¯s gaze, his resolve evident in his stance. ¡°I don¡¯t make promises lightly,¡± I said. ¡°But if you work with me, I¡¯ll ensure your safety as long as you remain loyal. You have my word.¡±


    Adam nodded slowly. ¡°Then we have a deal.¡±


    The van¡¯s engine hummed faintly as we glided through the darkness, cloaked in silence thanks to Kara¡¯s ability to manipulate sound. Loki sat in the driver¡¯s seat, his hands steady on the wheel, the dashboard lights off. He didn¡¯t need them¡ªhis night vision, or whatever gave him that eerie awareness of the surroundings, made him as precise as any seasoned hunter.


    The forest slipped away behind us, the trees thinning as we approached the city¡¯s outskirts.


    ¡°You¡¯re not bringing your undead with you?¡± I asked, breaking the quiet.


    Adam, seated beside me, shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Undead?¡±


    Loki chuckled, his voice light despite the tension. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m leaving them back there. Evidence of the World Order¡¯s handiwork. Extra bodies should do the trick.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why leave evidence?¡±


    ¡°If the Order covers it all up,¡± Loki said, his tone nonchalant, ¡°it means they¡¯d rather keep things quiet despite the mess we made. But if they let the news about the dead DERT members spread, then they¡¯re likely going to go for a more aggressive approach. Either way, we¡¯ll know what they¡¯re planning soon enough.¡±


    Adam¡¯s discomfort grew, and he glanced at me warily.


    I turned to him, my voice steady. ¡°Adam, can you bring someone back from the dead?¡±


    The van jerked as Loki swerved sharply, his voice a startled growl. ¡°Motherf**ker, don¡¯t scare me like that!¡±


    Adam¡¯s face went pale. ¡°W-what? No, I can¡¯t! That¡¯s not how my Gift works!¡±


    Loki grumbled under his breath, straightening the van¡¯s course. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I didn¡¯t crash this thing.¡±


    I leaned back in my seat, letting the moment pass. Adam¡¯s denial didn¡¯t faze me¡ªI knew what he was capable of, or rather, what he would be capable of in time. His ability was still nascent, like a seed waiting to sprout under the right conditions.


    It wasn¡¯t just idle speculation. I¡¯d seen fragments of the future of what Adam would become. His path was tied to Selena, a woman whose bloodline carried an extraordinary trait. When someone from her lineage met their soulmate, their [Existence] underwent a profound evolution.


    It was both fascinating and ironic how fate seemed to weave its threads, bringing people together to fulfill roles they couldn¡¯t yet understand. Adam¡¯s potential wasn¡¯t just theoretical¡ªit was inevitable.


    But Selena was dead¡­ I sighed¡­


    Loki broke the silence again, his tone lighter now. ¡°So, Reynard, what¡¯s the plan? You¡¯ve got the healer, the sound manipulator, and me. Pretty good start for a team, huh?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer immediately, my mind still on Adam and Selena. The van rolled on, Kara¡¯s sound barrier ensuring our stealth. For now, the city lights were still a distant glow on the horizon.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± I finally said. ¡°But this is just the beginning. There¡¯s a lot more work to do.¡±


    And no, this was probably the last time I would be hiring Loki.


    Adam looked at me, his expression conflicted. ¡°I¡¯ll help you for now, but I need to know what you¡¯re really planning.¡±


    I met his gaze, unflinching. ¡°You¡¯ll know when the time comes.¡±


    The van sped on, the night swallowing us whole.

 77 Unwelcome Revelations

    Adam sat silently in the back of the van, staring out into the darkened streets. The imaginary quiet hum of the engine filled the air, but his mind was a cacophony of thoughts. He didn¡¯t trust these people¡ªLoki, with his unsettling nonchalance, Kara, who exuded an air of detached amusement, and Reynard, whose calm demeanor masked something far more dangerous.


    He would¡¯ve given anything to be back with his team.


    But they¡¯re dead, aren¡¯t they?


    The thought hit him like a sledgehammer. Adam clenched his fists, his heart sinking.


    ¡°They¡¯re dead, aren¡¯t they?¡± he finally asked, his voice trembling.


    Loki glanced at him in the rearview mirror, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Disbelief much?¡±


    Reynard reached into his pocket and handed Adam a sleek smartphone. The device was cutting-edge, a model Adam hadn¡¯t seen before. It was too new¡ªhe¡¯d barely kept up with tech advancements over the past year, let alone this.


    ¡°Here,¡± Reynard said. ¡°See for yourself.¡±


    Adam hesitated before taking the phone. The screen lit up, displaying a news article. His eyes scanned the text, each word sinking deeper into his gut like a lead weight.


    The article detailed the gruesome deaths of DERT, the Government¡¯s ace hunter team. Graphic descriptions of their last moments painted a grim picture, but what stood out most was the mention of Adam himself. His ¡°missing body¡± was being spun into a damning narrative, the press suggesting he was responsible for the slaughter.


    ¡°No¡­¡± Adam whispered. His hands trembled as he scrolled through more articles. Headlines and images blurred together in his mind.


    His heart froze when he stumbled upon his own face. A wanted poster stared back at him, his name emblazoned beneath it alongside the word TERRORIST.


    ¡°I¡¯m a wanted man now¡­¡± Adam muttered, his voice hollow. He looked up, his gaze darting between the others. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m stuck with you guys.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations on joining the game, bruv,¡± Loki quipped, his grin widening.


    ¡°What?¡± Adam snapped, his frustration boiling over.


    Kara¡¯s melodic voice cut through the tension. ¡°We¡¯re professional terrorists,¡± she said with a smirk, her tone almost mocking.


    Adam blanched, his stomach churning. His gaze shifted to Reynard, the one person who seemed remotely sane.


    Reynard held his gaze, his tone calm and deliberate. ¡°Not me. The World Order and the Government wouldn¡¯t dare label me anything.¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯re scared of you,¡± Loki interjected, his tone light but tinged with an edge. ¡°You¡¯ve got dirt on them. Enough to make them think twice before coming after you.¡±


    Adam leaned back against the van¡¯s cold metal wall, his head spinning. ¡°What have I gotten myself into?¡±


    No one answered. The van rolled on, the city¡¯s glow growing brighter as they approached their destination. Adam stared at the phone in his hands, his reflection staring back at him. He barely recognized the man in the wanted poster.


    He barely recognized himself.


    Reynard¡¯s voice cut through the quiet hum of the van¡¯s engine. ¡°Stop here.¡±


    Loki braked abruptly, bringing the vehicle to a halt in the middle of a desolate road. The surrounding landscape was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon. Reynard opened the van door and stepped out.


    ¡°Follow me, Adam,¡± he said without looking back.


    Adam hesitated, glancing at Loki and Kara. He wanted to run, but where would he go? His face was plastered all over the internet, branded as a terrorist. He had no allies left and nowhere to turn.


    Reluctantly, Adam slid out of the van and followed Reynard.


    Loki leaned out of the driver¡¯s seat, a smirk playing on his lips. ¡°Hmmm¡­ So you¡¯re not hiring us anymore? That¡¯s a shame. You give fun missions. I feel bad seeing you go.¡±


    Reynard turned to face him, his tone steady. ¡°You¡¯re intent on breaking the Hunter World. I¡¯m planning to fix it. That¡¯s why we have to part ways.¡±


    Loki chuckled. ¡°How does Bob play into all this?¡±


    ¡°Bob has no part in this,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°This is my initiative. If anything, Bob intends to remake the Hunter World in his own image. Whether he becomes your foe or your ally is up to you.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Well, this is farewell, I guess,¡± Loki said with a dramatic sigh. He reached into his coat and pulled out a tarot card, its surface adorned with the image of The Fool.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s time I return this to you,¡± Loki added, holding the card out to Reynard.


    Reynard shook his head. ¡°No, keep it. Use it to contact Reina from now on. She¡¯ll be handling the business, the spy network, and everything else.¡±


    Loki¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Fun.¡± Without another word, he revved the engine and drove off, the van disappearing into the distance.


    Adam turned to Reynard, his confusion mounting. ¡°Where to now?¡±


    Reynard didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he retrieved the smartphone Adam had been holding and dialed a number. He spoke into the device with calm precision. ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡±


    Adam frowned. ¡°Ready for what?¡±


    Before Reynard could reply, a brilliant beam of light engulfed them both. The sensation was disorienting¡ªlight, heat, and pressure all colliding in an instant.


    When Adam¡¯s vision cleared, he found himself standing on a jagged, mountainous terrain. The air was crisp and thin, and the vast expanse of rocky peaks stretched out as far as the eye could see.


    ¡°What¡­ happened?¡± Adam asked, his voice unsteady.


    Reynard looked at him, his expression as calm as ever. ¡°Teleportation via the World Path.¡±


    Adam had no idea what was the World Path, but Reynard offered no explanation.


    Reynard led the way up the rocky slope, his movements steady and purposeful. Adam trailed behind, his mind racing with questions he didn¡¯t dare voice. The night was quiet save for the sound of their footsteps crunching against loose gravel.


    When they reached the entrance of a cave, Reynard switched on the flashlight function of his smartphone, the bright beam slicing through the darkness.


    ¡°This way,¡± Reynard said curtly, his voice echoing faintly against the stone walls.


    Adam hesitated for a moment, then followed. The cave was cold and damp, the air heavy with the scent of earth and minerals. They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity, the narrow passage twisting and turning as if it had no end.


    After five minutes, the rough stone gave way to something unexpected¡ªa smooth, metallic wall. Adam blinked in surprise, the gleaming surface entirely out of place in the natural cave.


    Reynard stepped forward and placed his hand on the wall. A faint hum filled the air as a hidden scanner activated, lines of blue light tracing the outline of his palm. Adam watched in fascination as the wall responded, sliding apart with a soft hiss to reveal a brightly lit corridor beyond.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± Reynard said, stepping inside without a glance back.


    Adam hesitated, staring at the high-tech marvel before him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and followed Reynard into the unknown.


    The corridor was sleek and sterile, the walls lined with faintly glowing panels. The air was warmer here, carrying a faint hum of machinery. Adam¡¯s unease grew with every step.


    ¡°Are you part of some hidden organization?¡± Adam finally asked, his voice shaky. ¡°Planning world domination or something? And the World Order is your rival?¡±


    Reynard stopped abruptly, turning to face him. For a moment, Adam thought he saw the faintest hint of a smirk on Reynard¡¯s otherwise stoic face.


    ¡°No,¡± Reynard said simply, before turning and continuing down the corridor.


    Adam stared after him, the weight of Reynard¡¯s brief answer leaving him with more questions than before. Whatever he had gotten himself into, it was far more complex than he had imagined.


    The labyrinthine hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, twisting and turning in ways that disoriented Adam. The faint hum of machinery accompanied their footsteps, a subtle reminder of the high-tech nature of this hidden facility. Reynard walked with purpose, his flashlight casting sharp shadows against the sleek walls.


    As they continued, Reynard began to speak. ¡°There are three Great Powers that govern the known world: the Government, the Hunter Association, and the World Order.¡±


    Adam listened intently, his unease tempered by curiosity. Reynard¡¯s tone was calm, almost clinical, as he provided a crash course on the structure of the world Adam thought he understood.


    ¡°The Government,¡± Reynard continued, ¡°is self-explanatory. It governs, enforces laws, and maintains order among civilians. The Hunter Association operates separately, training and managing those gifted with extraordinary abilities. Their focus is on neutralizing threats, be they rogue individuals or cryptids. The World Order exists to mediate between the two, ensuring that the Hunters don¡¯t overstep their bounds and that the Government doesn¡¯t misuse its authority over Hunters.¡±


    Adam frowned. ¡°Sounds like the World Order¡¯s role is pretty important. Why would you want to replace it?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s corrupt,¡± Reynard said bluntly. ¡°The World Order was meant to be impartial, to maintain balance. But it¡¯s become a self-serving entity, more interested in preserving its power than doing what¡¯s necessary to adapt to the changing world. The political climate is shifting, and the Order refuses to change. It¡¯s time for something new.¡±


    Adam processed this in silence, his thoughts racing. The scope of Reynard¡¯s ambitions was staggering. ¡°How many of you are there in this... organization you¡¯re planning?¡±


    Reynard glanced back at him. ¡°Two.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ you don¡¯t mean by two: you and me, right?¡± Adam stopped in his tracks, staring at Reynard in disbelief. ¡°Two? You¡¯re telling me this grand plan to overthrow one of the Great Powers consists of just two people?¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± Reynard said, his expression unchanging.


    Adam shook his head, incredulous. ¡°Then what¡¯s the point of all these circuitous hallways if it¡¯s just the two of you?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. ¡°This place is rigged with traps. Security is paramount, no matter how few we are.¡±


    Adam sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°Fine. But what are we doing here?¡±


    ¡°To get our third member.¡±


    The answer silenced Adam. He followed Reynard down one final corridor, his apprehension growing with each step. The hallway opened into a spacious chamber, the air cooler here, tinged with a sterile scent.


    At the center of the room stood a large transparent vat filled with a viscous, pale blue liquid. Suspended within was a woman, her pink hair fanning out like a halo around her serene face. She was completely naked, her body pristine except for a metallic patch on her chest where her heart should have been. The metal gleamed faintly under the soft lights of the chamber, a stark contrast to her otherwise human appearance.


    Reynard stopped in front of the vat, his gaze steady. ¡°Selena Fair,¡± he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.


    Adam stared at the woman, his unease returning. ¡°Who... who is she?¡±


    ¡°Our sleeping beauty,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°And the future of this organization.¡±

 78 Resurrection

    Selena remembered dying. The pain was seared into her mind¡ªthe tearing of her chest, the sickening sound as her heart was ripped out, and then the gaping emptiness that consumed her. She had thought that was the end. Darkness had enveloped her, and for a long time, there was nothing.


    And yet, here she was.


    Her eyes fluttered open to a strange, dimly lit room. The liquid around her was cool and viscous, embracing her like a second skin. She could feel energy surging through her body, every nerve alive with sensation. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, a rhythm she hadn¡¯t heard in what felt like an eternity.


    Through the glass of the vat, she saw a man. He had dark brown hair and wore military fatigues. His expression was a mixture of awe and disbelief, and his hand was pressed against the glass, reaching for her. Instinctively, Selena moved her own hand, pressing it against his. The connection felt surreal.


    Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed another figure¡ªReynard. He looked older, more worn than she remembered. His left arm was gone, and his face bore the weariness of someone who had carried too many burdens.


    The vat hissed, and cracks spiderwebbed across the glass. In an instant, it shattered, the liquid spilling out in a wave that drenched the man standing before her. Selena fell forward, instinctively wrapping her arms around him for support.


    She blinked up at him, her lips curling into a playful smirk. ¡°Who is this cutie?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s dry voice cut through the chaos. ¡°That¡¯s Adam. Your soulmate.¡±


    The man¡ªAdam, Reynard had called him¡ªstiffened, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. He flailed awkwardly, his voice rising in panic. ¡°W-what¡ª?! I¡ªuh¡ª!¡±


    Selena blinked, tilting her head as she glanced between Adam and Reynard. ¡°Seriously?¡± She raised an eyebrow, still clinging to the flustered man. ¡°You promised me my soulmate after hanging around you for so long, but one-armed Reynard sure knows how to crack a joke.¡±


    ¡°Not a joke,¡± shrugged Reynard.


    ¡°S-soulmate?¡± Adam stammered, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his gaze anywhere but on Selena¡¯s very naked form.


    With a flick of his wrist, Reynard tossed a towel at her. ¡°Dry yourself off.¡±


    Selena caught the towel and stepped back, letting Adam escape her grasp. She chuckled as he quickly turned away, though she noticed him sneaking glances over his shoulder. Wrapping the towel around herself, she began drying off, her eyes catching a lock of her hair.


    ¡°Wow, pink hair,¡± she mused, holding a strand between her fingers.


    ¡°A side-effect of the synthetic process to resurrect you,¡± Reynard explained.


    Selena froze, her hand dropping to her side. ¡°I really died, huh?¡±


    Adam spun around, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. ¡°What the¡ª? She used to be dead? No... no way... Did I just resurrect her?¡±


    Reynard shrugged, his voice calm but firm. ¡°Highly unlikely to be repeatable. This was a one-time deal, Selena.¡±


    Selena¡¯s gaze softened as she looked at Reynard. ¡°And you used it on me.¡±


    Reynard met her eyes, his face unreadable. ¡°You¡¯re worth it.¡±


    Selena grinned, the weight of her past death momentarily forgotten. She turned to Adam, who still looked like he was trying to process the situation. ¡°Well then, soulmate,¡± she teased, ¡°looks like we¡¯re going to be spending a lot of time together.¡±


    Adam groaned, burying his face in his hands. ¡°What have I gotten myself into?¡±


    Selena adjusted the towel around her body, securing it snugly before giving her chest a teasing squeeze, deliberately catching Reynard¡¯s eye. ¡°Stare much?¡± she asked with a sly grin, enjoying the discomfort she hoped to provoke.


    Adam, standing nearby, turned an even deeper shade of red, his eyes darting anywhere but at her. Reynard, however, remained as stoic as ever, his lackluster reaction only fueling Selena¡¯s need to get a rise out of him.


    But this time, something was different. Reynard took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his remaining arm hanging at his side. His expression darkened, and the weight of his presence suddenly felt menacing.


    Selena instinctively backed away, holding up a hand. ¡°Hey, hey! What are you planning to do? You have a wife, remember?¡±


    Without a word, Reynard raised his hand and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.


    A sudden, disorienting shift rippled through Selena¡¯s body. Her form shrank, her perspective dropped, and the towel slipped off entirely as her limbs became small and childlike. She looked down at her now pint-sized frame and let out a sharp cry.


    ¡°Motherf¡ª! I hate that trick!¡± she yelled, her voice now high-pitched and squeaky.


    Reynard stood over her, his calm expression betraying the faintest hint of amusement. ¡°I told you time and time again¡ªI already have a wife.¡±


    Selena stomped her tiny foot, glaring up at him. ¡°Turn me back!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Reynard replied, his tone final.


    Adam, meanwhile, stared at Selena in her chibi form, his blush returning with a vengeance. ¡°Chibi¡­ cute¡­¡± he mumbled under his breath.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Selena whipped around to face him, catching the word. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she sauntered¡ªwell, waddled¡ªover to him. ¡°Oh? So you like what you¡¯re seeing?¡± she teased, striking a playful pose despite her diminutive stature.


    Adam flailed, his words tumbling out in a panic. ¡°Uhh... no! I mean¡ªuhh¡ª¡±


    Reynard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Makes me want to call the FBI.¡±


    Selena tilted her head, confused. ¡°FBI? What now?¡±


    ¡°An inside joke,¡± Reynard replied. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    Adam waved his hands frantically, his face red as a tomato. ¡°Wait, I can explain! I don¡¯t have any weird fetish or anything! I just thought the two of you looked like a cute father-and-daughter duo!¡±


    Selena blinked, processing his words. Then, with a devilish grin, she leaned in close, her childlike features betraying the mischief brewing in her mind. ¡°Really? I see myself more as his mommy, though¡­ and you¡¯d be hubby.¡±


    Before Adam could react, Selena¡¯s aura flared. She moved with surprising speed, appearing behind him and wrapping her small arms around his waist in a playful hug.


    ¡°Uwah! Uwah!¡± Adam stammered, his composure crumbling as he tried to escape.


    Selena¡¯s aura shimmered again, and with a decisive effort, she undid the chibi transformation, forcibly breaking Reynard¡¯s hold on her. Her body expanded back to its full size as she leaned into Adam, her chest pressing against his back.


    ¡°Now, this feels much better,¡± Selena purred, her voice low and teasing.


    Adam let out a strangled noise, his face impossibly red as he struggled to form coherent words. ¡°I-I¡ªuhh¡ª!¡±


    Reynard crossed his arms, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m surrounded by children.¡±


    Selena flashed him a cheeky grin over Adam¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Well, someone has to keep things interesting.¡±


    Reynard crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Selena. ¡°Let¡¯s get down to business. As you can see, I only have one arm now. A lot happened since the last time you were alive.¡±


    Selena tilted her head with a smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Undead Troupe?¡±


    ¡°They were involved,¡± Reynard replied, his tone clipped. ¡°But the real culprit was the World Order.¡±


    Selena raised an eyebrow, her amusement shifting to mild surprise. ¡°So many twists. What about Leora?¡±


    Reynard¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Missing. Ulrich got the jump on her. I barely survived the confrontation myself. Managed to kill one of them and scare the rest off.¡±


    Selena let out a low whistle. ¡°So ferocious, huh?¡±


    Reynard didn¡¯t respond, turning instead to lead them down a hallway. Adam followed silently, his gaze darting nervously between the two.


    They reached another atrium, its minimalist design leading to a concealed basement door. Reynard opened it, revealing a high-tech room filled with glowing screens and machines humming softly. He gestured toward a sleek console. ¡°There¡¯s a 3D printer there. Pick whatever clothes you want.¡±


    Selena sauntered over to the complicated interface, her naked form moving with an ease that made Adam avert his eyes quickly. She browsed the options, her fingers gliding over the screen as she selected her outfit: cute lingerie, combat boots, fitted trousers, a red jacket, and a baseball bat.


    The screen displayed a progress bar, indicating a fifteen-minute wait. Selena turned back to the room, catching Adam¡¯s cautious glance in her direction.


    ¡°So,¡± Adam began hesitantly, ¡°what can you do? What¡¯s your Gift?¡± He was careful to keep his gaze above her shoulders, fully aware that ogling might earn him a swift and painful punishment.


    Selena blinked, her expression shifting to confusion. ¡°What Gift?¡±


    Adam hesitated, his brow furrowing. ¡°Just asking¡­ since we¡¯re going to be on a team together.¡±


    Selena crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. ¡°No, seriously. What Gift?¡±


    Before Adam could clarify, Reynard cut in from across the room. He was focused on his smartphone, speaking to someone on the other end. With a sharp motion, he lowered the phone briefly and addressed them.


    ¡°Selena¡¯s been dead for five years,¡± Reynard said. ¡°Catch her up to speed.¡±


    Then, without waiting for a response, he returned to his call and walked out of the room, leaving Adam and Selena alone.


    Selena leaned against the console, watching Adam with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Well? Start talking, kid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid, you are the kid,¡± Adam cleared his throat, trying to collect his thoughts. ¡°A lot has changed in five years. For starters, aura knowledge has been publicized. It¡¯s not some big secret anymore.¡±


    Selena¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Publicized? Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Adam continued. ¡°Anyone can become a hunter now, as long as they train for it. They even built a Hunter Academy recently to streamline the process.¡±


    ¡°A Hunter Academy,¡± Selena repeated, her tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity.


    ¡°And Gifts,¡± Adam added. ¡°They¡¯re a new concept¡ªtools to help people learn aura more easily. They¡¯ve made things¡­ a lot more accessible.¡±


    Selena tilted her head, processing the information. ¡°Sounds like the world¡¯s gone soft.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Adam replied. ¡°Things are still dangerous out there. But the rules have definitely changed.¡±


    Selena leaned back, a wry smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Well, well. I guess I¡¯ve got a lot to learn.¡±


    The hum of the 3D printer grew louder as the progress bar neared completion. Adam shifted awkwardly, unsure what else to say.


    Selena glanced at him, her smirk returning. ¡°Don¡¯t look so nervous, Adam. I don¡¯t bite¡­ much.¡±


    Adam gulped, deciding it was best to stay quiet.


    The two of them continued talking, Selena¡¯s curiosity leading the conversation while Adam answered to the best of his ability. She leaned against the 3D printer console, watching the progress bar inch closer to completion as she peppered him with questions.


    ¡°What is this Self-Divination thing I keep hearing about?¡± Selena asked, her tone both intrigued and skeptical.


    Adam scratched the back of his neck, feeling slightly out of his depth. ¡°It¡¯s a meditative technique. You use it for retrospection, to learn the name of your Gift and to center yourself. Once you know your Gift¡¯s name, you can figure out what kind of techniques you might be able to manifest. It¡¯s really streamlined things for people. In as short as a month, even a mundane person can manifest aura and potentially develop an ability.¡±


    Selena¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s crazy¡­ Five years ago, most hunters were unofficial, and learning aura was a grind. I have no idea how fast they learn it now, but it took me two years to manifest an ability.¡±


    Adam shrugged. ¡°Times have changed. So¡­ what can you do?¡±


    Selena grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. ¡°Do you know about the Seven States? Like how matter has three states¡ªsolid, liquid, and gas¡ªwell, aura has seven.¡±


    ¡°I know enough,¡± Adam replied, his tone slightly defensive. ¡°I used to work for DERT.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Selena said, nodding. ¡°That makes things easier to explain. I have the strongest affinity with Trickster aura, and I¡¯ve developed something I call a disguise attribute. As long as it¡¯s within reason and within my aura pool, I can disguise myself as anyone. It¡¯s kind of like shapeshifting.¡±


    Adam¡¯s interest piqued. ¡°That sounds¡­ really useful.¡±


    Selena smirked, her expression turning mischievous. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s more than useful. Let me show you.¡±


    With a flicker of her aura, Selena¡¯s appearance began to shift. Her pink hair darkened into a sultry blonde, her features softening into the visage of a seductive bombshell. A moment later, her form morphed into a brunette with striking oriental features, then into a fiery redhead, and finally back to her original self.


    She leaned toward Adam, her grin playful. ¡°If you fall for me, it¡¯s like having a harem all to yourself.¡±


    Adam gulped, his face turning bright red. He stammered incoherently, trying to find a way to respond without embarrassing himself further.


    Selena burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room. ¡°Relax, kid. I¡¯m just messing with you.¡±


    Adam forced a nervous chuckle, scratching his head awkwardly. ¡°Yeah¡­ sure. Just messing¡­¡±


    The 3D printer let out a soft chime, signaling the completion of Selena¡¯s outfit. She sauntered over, her laughter still lingering in the air, and began dressing herself in the combat-ready ensemble she had chosen.


    Adam, still flustered, kept his gaze firmly fixed on the wall, silently wondering how he had ended up in this bizarre situation.

 79 The Waiting

    I pocketed my phone and returned to the atrium where Selena and Adam waited. As expected, Selena was teasing the hell out of Adam, her laughter echoing through the chamber. Adam, for his part, looked like he was contemplating an escape route but couldn¡¯t muster the courage to bolt.


    ¡°Selena,¡± I said, cutting through the banter, ¡°you need to focus. If your bloodline technique is going to work, it needs to resonate with your soulmate first. And for that to happen, it needs to evacuate properly.¡±


    She stopped mid-tease, tilting her head in curiosity. ¡°Evacuate? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°It means you have to align your aura flow completely with his,¡± I replied, gesturing toward Adam, who stiffened under the scrutiny.


    Selena smirked, clearly enjoying the prospect. ¡°Sounds intimate. I¡¯m in.¡±


    Adam groaned softly, muttering something under his breath, but I ignored it. ¡°I¡¯m heading out to pick up our fourth and fifth members,¡± I continued.


    Selena raised an eyebrow. ¡°Fourth and fifth? How many members are we stopping at?¡±


    ¡°Five,¡± I answered simply.


    She burst into laughter. ¡°Five? That¡¯s it? We¡¯re supposed to be replacing the World Order, right? And you think five people are enough to do that?¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± I replied, keeping my tone even.


    Selena¡¯s laughter faded into a chuckle, and she shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡±


    Ignoring her jab, I turned to Adam. ¡°Tell us about your Gift.¡±


    Adam shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between Selena and me. ¡°Uh¡­ I can heal people with my aura.¡±


    I sighed, rubbing my temple. ¡°And redistribute life force,¡± I added.


    Adam blinked, his expression resembling a fish out of water.


    Selena snickered, leaning closer to him. ¡°Get used to it. Reynard knows everything. Or at least, he likes to act like he does.¡±


    ¡°I wish,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    Adam sighed in resignation. ¡°Fine. My Gift is called Life Bridge. It lets me take life force from one person and give it to another. But I can¡¯t use it on myself. I can only redistribute the life force I¡¯ve taken or use my own to heal others. It¡¯s like¡­ I have this separate ¡®vase¡¯ where I store the life force I take. From there, I can give it away with a touch or even from a distance using my aura.¡±


    Selena looked genuinely intrigued. ¡°So you can kill and heal with a flick of your aura? That¡¯s terrifying.¡±


    Adam frowned. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say it like that. I try not to¡­¡±


    ¡°You try not to kill,¡± Selena finished for him, smirking. ¡°Admirable, but not always practical.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± I said, cutting off the brewing debate. ¡°Selena, help Adam collect life force over the next three days.¡±


    Adam¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Collect? For what?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s going to be a showdown in the capital city,¡± I explained. ¡°Three days from now. Ulrich will be there.¡±


    The mention of Ulrich silenced both of them. Selena¡¯s smirk vanished, replaced by a steely determination. Adam, meanwhile, looked uneasy but nodded nonetheless.


    ¡°Three days,¡± I repeated. ¡°Be ready.¡±


    The pieces were finally falling into place.


    I reached into my other pocket and tossed a different phone to Selena. She caught it easily, her reflexes as sharp as ever despite her recent resurrection.


    ¡°Contact Atropos,¡± I instructed, watching her fiddle with the device. ¡°Use the World Path to get where you need to go.¡±


    Adam looked between us, his confusion evident. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    Selena didn¡¯t even look up from the phone as she answered with a smirk. ¡°The Forbidden Region. We¡¯re collecting life force, remember?¡±


    Adam blinked. ¡°The Forbidden Region? That¡¯ll be my first time.¡±


    Selena finally glanced up, her smirk widening. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll have a lot of first times with me.¡±


    I coughed, cutting off whatever teasing she was about to unleash. ¡°You two should get going. Time¡¯s short.¡±


    They exchanged a glance¡ªAdam looking flustered and Selena clearly amused¡ªbefore heading toward the exit. I watched them leave, their voices fading into the distance, and turned my attention back to the task at hand.


    For the next hour, I combed through the research archives stored in the base. Five years of accumulated data, some of it invaluable to the Government and the Hunter Association, all of it dangerous in the wrong hands. I systematically wiped every trace, erasing files, dismantling connections, and destroying backups.


    When I was sure nothing remained, I activated the self-destruct protocol. A soft hum began to resonate through the base, growing louder as the countdown started.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I left without hesitation, exiting through a hidden passage that led into the adjacent forest. From there, I waited, standing amidst the shadows of the trees as the minutes ticked down.


    The explosion came suddenly, the mountaintop erupting into a fiery spectacle of destruction. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and the sky lit up with flames and debris. The base, and everything it had held, was no more.


    I stayed for a moment longer, watching the inferno consume the mountain. Then, without a second glance, I turned and walked away.


    There was still much to do.


    I pulled out my phone and dialed Atropos. The line clicked after the first ring, and her familiar voice greeted me with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.


    ¡°Reynard,¡± she said. ¡°What is it now?¡±


    ¡°Have Adam and Selena gone through you yet?¡± I asked, keeping my tone neutral.


    She hummed softly. ¡°Yes, they¡¯ve already passed through. Selena seemed¡­ lively, to say the least. Are you really going through with this, Reynard?¡±


    I hesitated for a moment before answering. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡±


    Atropos sighed, and I could almost picture her shaking her head on the other end. ¡°I heard from Reina about your ailment.¡±


    That made me stop in my tracks. My fingers tightened around the phone as I suppressed a groan. ¡°Of course she knows,¡± I muttered. ¡°And here I thought Sarah¡¯s promise to keep it quiet would hold.¡±


    ¡°She only told me because she¡¯s worried,¡± Atropos said gently. ¡°We all are. This path you¡¯re walking¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t let her finish. ¡°I¡¯m already on it. No turning back now.¡±


    I reached an open stretch of land, the trees thinning out as the path widened. Looking up at the sky, I sighed. ¡°Just zap me.¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± Atropos said, her voice tinged with amusement, ¡°you¡¯re using the World Path like a taxi service. Every time it¡¯s activated, it burns through an absurd amount of energy. Even the richest corporation in the world would go bankrupt after a few uses.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I replied, my tone apologetic but firm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She sighed again, a mix of resignation and affection. ¡°Fine. Brace yourself.¡±


    The air around me shimmered, a low hum building as the World Path activated. In an instant, I was engulfed in a brilliant flash of light.


    When the glow faded, I found myself standing in the lush garden of HAHQ. The familiar scents of blooming flowers and freshly trimmed grass filled the air. I put my phone back in my pocket, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. Atropos¡¯s words lingered in my mind, but I shook them off.


    There was no time for second-guessing. The next step was already waiting.


    The Hunter Association¡¯s HQ had grown livelier in recent years, teeming with new recruits thanks to the hunter boom. But despite the influx, the garden remained untouched¡ªa sanctuary reserved for someone like me, slipping in and out without attracting attention.


    I moved quietly, skirting the pathways and avoiding any wandering eyes, until I reached the main building. The corridors were familiar, and soon enough, I found myself outside the HA President¡¯s office.


    Inside, Bob and Atropos were waiting.


    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± Atropos remarked, holding up a sleek, metallic arm. ¡°But at least I managed to finish this in time.¡±


    I stepped closer, taking in the craftsmanship. ¡°This is the final product?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°A collaboration between me and a certain airship captain. Go on, let¡¯s get you fitted.¡±


    I extended the stump of my missing arm, and Atropos got to work. The mechanical arm locked into place with a faint hiss, its components syncing seamlessly with my nervous system¡­ and it was painful.


    ¡°Try it,¡± she urged.


    I flexed my fingers, feeling the artificial limb respond as if it were my own. The grip was firm, the movement fluid.


    ¡°It¡¯s designed to work with any aura state,¡± Atropos explained, pride evident in her tone. ¡°Durable enough to withstand your recklessness and equipped with a built-in battery to store aura. Just don¡¯t break it in a week, okay?¡±


    Bob leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Would be a pity if you went through all this trouble just to kick the bucket.¡±


    I ignored the jab. ¡°Do you have what I asked for?¡±


    Bob didn¡¯t move immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, his fingers steepled. ¡°The deal still stands. If you survive whatever madness you¡¯re planning, you¡¯ll owe me a stint at the Academy.¡±


    I met his gaze evenly. ¡°Fine. Just give it to me.¡±


    With a dramatic sigh, Bob slid a file across the desk. ¡°The location of your fifth member,¡± he said.


    I picked up the file and began flipping through it. The details were sparse but sufficient. Just as I closed it, a knock sounded at the door.


    Bob frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t have any further appointments.¡±


    Atropos glanced at the monitors. ¡°It¡¯s Diamond Black,¡± she said casually. ¡°Or Jacob Black, as he¡¯s used to being called recently.¡±


    The name brought a faint smile to my face. Black¡ªstill the same, it seemed.


    Switching to a Telekinesis-build, I opened the door from a distance. Black stepped in, dressed in a sharp dark tuxedo. The diamond tattoo under his right eye now had a twin under his left. He still wore those dark shades, exuding the same quiet confidence I remembered.


    ¡°Reynard,¡± he said, his voice as steady as ever.


    ¡°Black,¡± I replied, rising to greet him. ¡°Right on time.¡±


    He glanced at the others, his expression unreadable behind the shades. ¡°You called. I came.¡±


    He was meant to be my fourth member. And from the look of him, he was rather welcome of the idea of being able to kill more devils¡­ or cryptids of any kind as of recently.


    Bob leaned back in his chair, eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and exasperation. ¡°So, where to next, Reynard?¡±


    I hefted the file he had just handed over. ¡°To get our fifth member.¡±


    Atropos raised an eyebrow. ¡°Who¡¯s lucky number five?¡±


    ¡°Silhouette,¡± I replied, flipping open the file. Inside were sparse but precise details¡ªcoordinates, a recent sighting, and a brief dossier. ¡°One of the Seven Extremes. The Seat of Trickster.¡±


    Black let out a low whistle. ¡°Going after the big guns, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a choice,¡± I said simply. ¡°We need someone like¡­ him.¡±


    Bob sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°You¡¯ve got a knack for finding trouble, Reynard. You know he¡¯s a wildcard, right? No one¡¯s seen him in months. Even the Hunter Association¡¯s been cautious about pursuing him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re doing it,¡± I said, snapping the file shut. ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of playing it safe.¡±


    Bob stared at me for a long moment, then finally shook his head. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t drag the Association¡¯s name into whatever chaos you¡¯re about to stir.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±


    ¡°And how are you planning to get there?¡± Bob asked.


    I met his gaze evenly. ¡°The World Path.¡±


    Bob groaned, leaning forward to plant his elbows on the desk. ¡°You¡¯ve been treating that thing like your personal teleportation service. Do you even understand how much energy it burns every time it¡¯s used?¡±


    ¡°Enough to bankrupt a corporation,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Atropos mentioned it before.¡±


    ¡°Then why¡ª¡±


    ¡°Because we don¡¯t have time to waste,¡± I interrupted.


    Bob let out a heavy sigh, throwing his hands in the air. ¡°Fine. You have permission to use it. But only in the garden. And if Atropos gives me any grief about this, I¡¯m sending her straight to you.¡±


    Atropos smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Bob. I¡¯m already plenty mad at him.¡±


    I ignored her jab and turned toward the door. ¡°Thanks for the assist. Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    As I made my way back through the garden, I felt the weight of the mission settling over me. Silhouette wasn¡¯t just a name; she was a force of nature. If we could convince her to join us, it would be a game-changer.


    If.


    Reaching the center of the garden, I pulled out my phone and keyed in the activation sequence for the World Path. The air around me shimmered, a faint hum growing louder as the portal began to form.


    Time to find the fifth piece.

 80 The Shadows Domain

    Selena would hate me for this.


    She¡¯d throw a fit if she knew I was actively recruiting Silhouette¡­ for lots of reason. In her mind, he was too dangerous, too unpredictable. But I didn¡¯t see it that way. Silhouette wasn¡¯t the monster people whispered about in hushed tones. Sure, he leaned into his theatrics¡ªwalking the razor-thin line between humanity and something darker¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t the aggressor everyone assumed him to be.


    No, Silhouette was neutral, almost maddeningly so. His ambition and calculated moves made him seem ruthless, but they hid a deeper truth. His power was terrifying, yes, but it was also controlled. That kind of precision was rare. It was the reason I wanted him on the team.


    Of course, convincing him wouldn¡¯t be easy. The man¡ªor shadow, depending on the moment¡ªwouldn¡¯t join us without a test of wills. That was why I came prepared.


    Black stood beside me, silent but alert, his diamond tattoos gleaming faintly in the moonlight. In front of us loomed a solitary cathedral, rising like a mirage from the barren desert. The sky above was a starless void, but the full moon hung high, casting its pale glow over the desolate sands.


    ¡°This the place?¡± Black asked, his voice low.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°This is where he likes to play God.¡±


    The cathedral¡¯s heavy wooden doors creaked open as we stepped inside. The interior was both grand and unsettling. The chandelier hung high above, its flickering candles casting long, shifting shadows across the walls. Rows of pews stretched toward the altar, flanked by statues of saints that seemed to watch our every move.


    At the frontmost pew, two figures sat in stark contrast to the holy setting.


    The first was a woman with dark braided hair, her face a mask of calm indifference. She wore a sharp black suit that would¡¯ve had my approval if not for the provocative plunge of her neckline. A name tag pinned to her lapel read Desiree in neat script. Her gaze shifted toward us as we approached, cold and calculating.


    Beside her was the man¡ªor rather, the shadow¡ªI had come to see.


    Silhouette sat with the same commanding presence he always exuded, even without a discernible face. He wore a pristine black suit and a top hat tilted at an angle that was both dashing and unnerving. A polished cane rested against his knee. His form seemed to drink in the light around him, his edges blurred, as if he were more illusion than substance.


    Desiree tilted her head slightly, her voice flat as she addressed him. ¡°Master, it seems we have visitors.¡±


    Silhouette let out a weary sigh, his tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I see that, Desiree. Your observational skills are as sharp as ever.¡±


    His attention shifted to me, or at least I thought it did. It was hard to tell with someone who didn¡¯t have eyes. ¡°Robert, you sly dog,¡± he said, his voice smooth and mocking. ¡°I assume he gave up my location?¡±


    I met his shadowy gaze¡ªor the void where his gaze might¡¯ve been¡ªand inclined my head. ¡°I apologize for intruding, but we need to talk.¡±


    Silhouette leaned back, tapping his cane lightly against the stone floor. ¡°And here I thought we were already talking. Or have you forgotten how conversations work, Reynard?¡±


    His tone was biting, but there was a flicker of amusement in it. He was testing me already, gauging my reaction.


    ¡°I meant a proper discussion,¡± I said evenly, ignoring the bait. ¡°I have a proposition for you.¡±


    His shadowy form shifted, his head tilting ever so slightly. ¡°A proposition, you say? How terribly intriguing. Tell me, Reynard, what could you possibly offer me that I don¡¯t already have?¡±


    I took a slow step forward, keeping my posture calm and unthreatening. ¡°Not here. Somewhere more private.¡±


    Desiree rose from her seat, her movements fluid and precise. She didn¡¯t speak, but her presence alone was enough to set Black on edge.


    ¡°Private, he says,¡± Silhouette mused, rising to his feet. His form seemed to stretch unnaturally, his shadow pooling across the floor. ¡°That¡¯s funny, considering this as the most private setting we could ask for.¡±


    Desiree vanished in a blur of motion, her speed astonishing even by enhanced standards. The metallic whip she drew hissed through the air with deadly precision as she reappeared a few dozen meters ahead of me, her eyes sharp and calculating.


    And then¡­ Black¡¯s aura flared. A faint shimmer of malevolence surrounded him as he summoned his imps with a somber tone, their grotesque forms materializing in a flash of crimson light. The imps swarmed toward Desiree, their clawed hands reaching for her.


    The clash was brief but telling.


    Her whip lashed out, slicing through the imps like paper, disintegrating them into bursts of smoke and ash. But as the whip continued its arc, it began to corrode. The once-pristine metal dulled, flaked, and crumbled into a rusty, useless toy by the time it completed its motion.


    Desiree scowled, tossing the ruined weapon aside as if it were garbage. Her gaze shifted to Black, her contempt evident. Without missing a beat, she extended her hand, and a new whip formed from her aura¡ªa pinkish, ethereal construct that pulsed with energy.


    Black chuckled softly, unfazed by her glare. ¡°How about we take this outside?¡± he suggested, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of challenge. ¡°Let the adults talk.¡±


    Desiree didn¡¯t respond verbally, but her grunt of acknowledgment was enough. She cracked the aura whip once, the sound reverberating through the cathedral like a gunshot.


    Black took it as a cue. He summoned Abraxas, a towering devil with obsidian skin and glowing red eyes. The air around the demon shimmered with heat, and in a low, guttural voice, it spoke an incantation. A moment later, both Black and Desiree vanished, teleported outside the cathedral.


    The tension in the room shifted as the two combatants left. Now, it was just Silhouette and me.


    He stood from the pew with deliberate slowness, his movements fluid and unhurried. His shadowy form stretched unnaturally as he walked to the center of the cathedral, his cane tapping lightly against the stone floor. He stopped a few paces away from me, directly opposing me in every sense of the word.


    ¡°You want to make a deal,¡± Silhouette said, his voice laced with disdain. He tilted his head, the movement exaggerated and almost mocking. ¡°Do you have any idea how many fools have come to me with ¡®deals,¡¯ Reynard? What makes yours worth my time?¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    I took a deep breath, steadying myself. ¡°Because I know what you value, and I can give it to you.¡±


    Silhouette scoffed, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. ¡°Bold words. Let¡¯s see if they¡¯re as empty as the promises of all those who came before you.¡±


    I tilted my head, keeping my tone casual but pointed. "Prove a promise, huh? That¡¯s an interesting way to phrase it. Care to elaborate, or are we already playing your game?"


    Silhouette¡¯s shadowy form rippled slightly, his cane tapping once on the stone floor. "Promises are fleeting things, Reynard. They hold no weight until tested. I¡¯ve heard plenty in my time, and none have impressed me."


    I smirked, deciding to join in on his theatrics. If he wanted a performance, I¡¯d give him one. After all, he was the Extreme Trickster, and Tricksters thrived on dramatics. His aura would undoubtedly be otherworldly, a chaotic masterpiece of misdirection and deceit. But two could play at this game.


    "Let me guess," I began, spreading my hands wide. "The others who came to you¡­ they made promises, didn¡¯t they? Big, grand promises about what they could do, what they could offer."


    Silhouette tilted his head slightly, his shadowy face inscrutable, but I caught the faintest flicker of interest.


    "Take Robert, for example," I continued, my voice steady. "I bet he waltzed into this very cathedral with a demand and asked for your price. No doubt the same went for the others. They probably didn¡¯t even realize what they were doing¡ªoffering you their so-called promises without understanding they¡¯d already named their price."


    Silhouette chuckled softly, the sound low and amused. "You think you¡¯ve figured me out, Reynard?"


    I let my smirk widen, raising my aura just slightly. The shift was subtle but deliberate, the weight of my presence filling the room. My [Soul] build hummed to life, a controlled yet unmistakable display of power.


    "I don¡¯t make promises," I said, my voice carrying a sharp edge. "I make deals. And unlike the others, I don¡¯t get tricked¡ªI deal."


    Silhouette¡¯s laughter erupted fully this time, a rich, echoing sound that filled the cathedral. He tapped his cane on the floor again, the sharp clack reverberating through the space.


    "Ah, now this is interesting," he said, his tone almost gleeful. "You¡¯re either very clever or very foolish, Reynard. Perhaps both."


    I schooled my expression, even as my mind worked to calculate my next move.


    Silhouette¡¯s laughter echoed through the cathedral, an unsettling sound that seemed to vibrate through the very stone walls. His shadow rippled and expanded, writhing like a living entity beneath the flickering chandelier light. He leaned forward slightly, the top hat casting a deeper shadow over his already featureless face.


    "You truly amuse me, Reynard," he said, his voice smooth but edged with mockery. "What kind of deal is this? Bold, ambitious, almost naive in its simplicity."


    I stood my ground, arms crossed. "Bold? Maybe. But naive? Hardly. You wanted a deal, so I laid it out plainly. Or are you not as interested in deals as you claim?"


    Silhouette chuckled again, shaking his head. "Oh, I¡¯m interested. But tell me¡ªwhat right do you have to dictate terms to me? The Extreme Trickster, one of the Seven Extremes?"


    With that, he slammed his cane against the stone floor once, then again. The sound echoed like a thunderclap, and his shadow began to boil and churn violently. Tendrils of darkness spiraled out, curling around the pews and snuffing out the light of the candles one by one. The air grew colder, the weight of his aura pressing down on me like a storm.


    I stayed calm, letting my own aura rise to meet his, pushing back against the suffocating presence. My [Soul] build hummed with energy, a steady beacon against the encroaching darkness.


    "You¡¯re right," I said evenly, holding his gaze¡ªor at least where his gaze would be if he had visible eyes. "I¡¯m not here to make demands. I¡¯m here to offer an opportunity. You can mock it, reject it, or even try to fight me over it. But you and I both know that what I¡¯m proposing is worth considering."


    Silhouette tilted his head, his shadowy form seeming to loom even larger. "An opportunity, you say? To what end? Your little organization is nothing but a fledgling idea. And yet you expect me to relinquish my title, my assets, my legacy to you?"


    "Not to me," I corrected. "To the cause. To something greater than any one of us. You think I don¡¯t know how much power you hold? I do. And I¡¯m not here to take it from you¡ªI¡¯m here to make it mean something."


    His shadow lashed out suddenly, a whip-like tendril of darkness slamming into the floor just inches from my feet. The impact sent a crack spiderwebbing across the stone, but I didn¡¯t flinch.


    "Enough words," Silhouette growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "If you truly believe you can dictate terms to me, then prove it. Show me why you deserve to stand here and make such demands."


    I sighed inwardly. I¡¯d hoped diplomacy might have worked, but deep down, I¡¯d known it would come to this. Silhouette was testing me, and there was no escaping the inevitable clash.


    "Fine," I said, letting my aura surge. "If it¡¯s a fight you want, then let¡¯s see if the Extreme Trickster can keep up."


    Silhouette¡¯s laughter returned, louder and more manic than before. His shadow erupted around him, transforming the cathedral into a swirling vortex of darkness.


    "Let¡¯s dance, Reynard," he said, his voice echoing from all directions. "Show me what you¡¯re made of."


    This would, in the end, boil into a fight. I knew that much. But it wouldn¡¯t hurt to try the diplomatic approach first. Silhouette had a reputation for being unpredictable, his moods swinging between jovial cooperation and outright menace. It was a gamble, but if I could appeal to his ego, perhaps¡­


    ¡°What kind of deal do you have in mind?¡± Silhouette¡¯s voice was like velvet wrapped around a blade, smooth yet sharp. His black cane tapped rhythmically against the floor as he leaned forward, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief.


    I took a steadying breath. ¡°Plainly put, this is what¡¯s going to happen, step by step.¡±


    His imaginary lips curved into a smirk, but he said nothing, inviting me to continue.


    ¡°One: you will join my budding organization.¡±


    The smirk grew wider, revealing sharp teeth. He raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t interrupt.


    ¡°Two: together, we will take over World Order.¡±


    That caught his attention. His fingers tightened on the cane, and his smirk faltered for a split second before returning.


    ¡°Three: upon successfully taking over World Order, you will relinquish your assets and the title of Extreme Trickster to the organization.¡±


    Now his amusement was palpable. He tilted his head, tapping his chin with a gloved finger as though pondering the absurdity of my proposition.


    ¡°Four: you will then act as the Chief of the organization, overseeing its operations.¡±


    His laughter burst forth, rich and wild, echoing through the room. It wasn¡¯t mocking, but it wasn¡¯t friendly either. I pushed forward.


    ¡°Five: I will decide who will inherit the position of second-in-command and the title of Extreme Trickster.¡±


    Silhouette¡¯s laughter abruptly ceased. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. He leaned on his cane, his shadow pooling beneath him like a living entity.


    ¡°And you think you have the right to dictate these terms?¡± he asked, his voice a low growl. ¡°What, pray tell, makes you believe you can make demands of me?¡±


    ¡°Because I see potential in you,¡± I said, meeting his gaze. ¡°You¡¯re wasted as a lone player in a world where the rules are dictated by those who lack your¡­ flair. Together, we could change the game entirely.¡±


    For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he straightened, slamming his cane against the floor twice. The sound reverberated like a gavel declaring judgment.


    ¡°You amuse me,¡± he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. ¡°But amusement isn¡¯t enough to grant you my allegiance.¡±


    The shadows around him began to writhe, boiling like tar. His aura surged, oppressive and suffocating, filling the room with an almost tangible weight. It was as if the darkness itself was alive, reaching out to consume everything in its path.


    ¡°Do you even understand what you¡¯re asking for?¡± he snarled. ¡°To stand in my presence and make demands¡­ You must think yourself invincible.¡±


    I didn¡¯t flinch, though every instinct screamed at me to step back. Instead, I held my ground, focusing on the flicker of doubt I thought I¡¯d seen earlier.


    ¡°I¡¯m not invincible,¡± I admitted. ¡°But neither are you. And deep down, you know that your current path leads nowhere. You¡¯ve played the game long enough to see the patterns, the stagnation. This is your chance to do something greater.¡±


    For a moment, he simply stared at me, his crimson eyes unblinking. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he spread his arms, the shadows swirling around him like a cloak.


    ¡°Very well,¡± he said, his voice dripping with theatricality. ¡°If you truly believe you can best me, then prove it. Show me the strength behind your words.¡±


    And just like that, the boiling shadows surged forward, a tidal wave of darkness intent on swallowing me whole. The time for diplomacy had passed. Now, it was a battle of wills¡ªand only one of us would walk away victorious.


    ¡°Why do you have to make it hard for yourself?¡±

 81 Gift Theory

    In the past eight years, I had learned more about myself than I ever thought possible¡ªmy power, my potential, and the sheer absurdity of my talents. I wasn¡¯t the same person who once borrowed a single attribute and called it a victory. No, I had grown. From that humble beginning, I had expanded to owning twelve attributes: Homing, Puppetry, Weakness, Perception, Swiftness, Toughness, Sharpness, Mind, Force, Strength, Space, and Brightness.


    It sounded impressive, sure, but there was a catch¡ªI could only use four at a time. That limitation had been my motivation to manifest the Gift Theory.


    If this world were a novel like I initially perceived it, the Gift Theory was something that would only appear much later in the story. But with my relentless input and active research, I¡¯d forced it into existence earlier. The Gift Theory was my personal revolution, a method to catalog and optimize the powers I derived from my attributes, allowing me to micromanage my abilities with precision.


    It wasn¡¯t just theory; it was my reality.


    As the darkness swirled around me, threatening to consume every inch of the cathedral, I felt the pressure of Silhouette¡¯s aura bearing down. He was testing me, pushing me to my limits, but he hadn¡¯t seen what I was truly capable of. Not yet.


    ¡°Equip: Bright Sword,¡± I said, my voice steady and commanding.


    The familiar shift of energy coursed through me as my [Soul] build was replaced by the [Bright Sword] build. My Gift, Akashic Records, allowed me to create new Gifts by combining and interchanging my attributes. The golden blade of light materialized in my hand, glowing with an intensity that pushed back the encroaching shadows.


    The [Bright Sword] was a construct of my own design, a perfect fusion of Brightness as the primary attribute and Homing, Swiftness, and Sharpness as secondary attributes. The blade wasn¡¯t just a weapon; it was a beacon, cutting through the oppressive darkness with ease.


    Silhouette stood across from me, his form still obscured by the shadows that writhed and pulsed around him. He tilted his head, his tophat casting an eerie silhouette in the faint light.


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and genuine curiosity.


    I didn¡¯t respond. Instead, I took a step forward, the golden blade humming in my grip. The air between us crackled with energy, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife¡ªor a sword, in this case.


    Silhouette¡¯s shadow tendrils lashed out, faster than the eye could follow, aiming to ensnare me. But the [Bright Sword] wasn¡¯t just for show. I swung the blade, and the tendrils disintegrated upon contact, their inky substance evaporating into nothingness.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard stories about you, Reynard,¡± Silhouette said, his voice carrying an edge of mockery. ¡°The so-called strategist. The dealer of promises. But this¡ª¡± he gestured toward the blade of light in my hand ¡°¡ªthis is something new.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve only seen the surface,¡± I replied, keeping my tone calm. ¡°If you want to understand what I¡¯m capable of, you¡¯ll have to dig deeper.¡±


    Silhouette chuckled, his shadows coiling tighter around him. ¡°Oh, I intend to.¡±


    The ground beneath me shifted as his aura surged, the cathedral itself seeming to warp and twist under the weight of his power. The shadows formed massive constructs¡ªhulking beasts with claws and teeth, their forms flickering like living nightmares.


    I raised the [Bright Sword], its light cutting through the oppressive atmosphere. With a flick of my wrist, I sent a wave of golden energy slicing through the constructs. They dissolved instantly, their forms unraveling into strands of shadow that retreated back to Silhouette.


    ¡°You¡¯re not holding back,¡± I remarked, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.


    ¡°Neither are you,¡± Silhouette countered, his tone dripping with amusement. ¡°But tell me, Reynard, do you truly believe you can outmaneuver the Extreme Trickster?¡±


    I smirked. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here if I didn¡¯t.¡±


    The fight was just beginning, but I was ready. This wasn¡¯t just about recruiting Silhouette¡ªit was about proving myself, not just to him but to myself. If I wanted to take on the World Order, I needed to show that I could stand against one of the Seven Extremes.


    And I wasn¡¯t about to back down.


    The air was thick with tension as I imbued my left mechanized arm with the Brightness attribute. Shadows speared toward me from my flank, jagged and relentless, but my arm pulsed with golden light as I raised it to block. The shadow spears disintegrated on contact, the Brightness burning through the ominous aura like sunlight through fog.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    My aura flared as I shifted my strategy, transforming the [Bright Sword] into a greatsword. With both hands gripping the radiant weapon, I parried and deflected the writhing tendrils of shadow that lashed out at me.


    Silhouette stood motionless in the center of the cathedral, his form shrouded in flickering darkness. He had retreated to the space beneath the grand cross, his expression unreadable except for the faint amusement that tugged at his lips.


    Why did it always have to come to this¡ªa fight to convince someone like Silhouette to join me?


    Because I had insulted him.


    It wasn¡¯t intentional, but it was inevitable, considering what I¡¯d told him. Usurping the World Order? Silhouette was a staunch neutral, someone who thrived on maintaining the status quo. My ambitions had offended him, and now I was paying the price.


    I could have phrased it better, sure. But let¡¯s face it¡ªthere was no version of this conversation that wouldn¡¯t have angered him.


    Still, I wouldn¡¯t have come here if I didn¡¯t need him.


    I took a deep breath, centering myself amidst the chaos. The shadows pressed in, but I steadied my focus. This wasn¡¯t just about survival; it was about proving my resolve.


    ¡°Equip: Sword Master,¡± I commanded, my voice cutting through the din.


    The [Bright Sword] gleamed with renewed intensity as I imbued its energy into my mechanized arm. Normally, I could only equip one Gift at a time, each representing the four attributes I could wield. But after countless hours of experimentation, I¡¯d discovered a loophole¡ªa way to push beyond that limitation.


    My left arm vibrated violently as the unstable aura from [Bright Sword] surged. With a swift motion, I wielded the greatsword of light, its radiant arc cutting through the darkness. The moment it left my grip, I caught it mid-air, stabilizing the weapon with the power of [Sword Master].


    The fusion was seamless. The blade no longer flickered with instability; it was a force of pure precision.


    In a single bound, I closed the distance between myself and Silhouette, cleaving through the shadows that separated us.


    Silhouette sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. ¡°I would hate it if you ended up destroying this church¡­ I like this place.¡±


    He tapped his cane on the ground, and the entire cathedral trembled.


    The shadows coiled tighter around the walls, and with a sudden, disorienting lurch, the entire structure dissolved into darkness. The next thing I knew, we were standing on barren land under the open sky. The church had been relocated, shifted to the side as if it were nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard that could be moved.


    My blade descended, aiming for Silhouette, but it met resistance. His cane rose to intercept, the two weapons colliding with a resonant clang.


    The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, scattering the remnants of shadow around us.


    Silhouette¡¯s expression was calm, but there was a glint of something sharper in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re persistent, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± he said, his tone conversational even as his cane held firm against my blade.


    ¡°And you¡¯re as theatrical as ever,¡± I shot back, pushing harder against his weapon.


    Silhouette chuckled, a low, amused sound. ¡°You¡¯re trying to convince me, Reynard. But so far, all you¡¯ve done is entertain me. Is that your grand plan?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied, gritting my teeth as I pressed forward. ¡°This is just the opening act.¡±


    I gripped the [Bright Sword] tightly, focusing on maintaining its integrity. With my current mastery, I should have been able to sustain the construct for at least five minutes. That might not sound like much, but against someone like Silhouette, every second mattered.


    The real challenge wasn¡¯t just maintaining the [Bright Sword]; it was managing a second Gift through my left arm, an artifact I hadn¡¯t fully mastered yet. The arm was new, and while I¡¯d tested its capabilities in controlled environments, this was a battlefield¡ªno room for error.


    I swung the greatsword overhead, aiming to cleave through Silhouette¡¯s shadowy form. He ducked effortlessly, fluid as water, and retaliated by stabbing his cane toward my foot.


    The tip of the cane pierced through my shoe, but before it could do real damage, my skin erupted with aura imbued with the Sharpness attribute. The cane shattered into wooden bits, splinters scattering across the barren ground.


    Silhouette reappeared at my left flank, his cane reforming from shadow in his hand. His free hand shot toward my chest, fingers poised to rip out my heart.


    I knew that move all too well. During my time as a Hunting Dog, I¡¯d used it countless times. It was a brutal, efficient tactic¡ªdeadly and terrifying. I liked it because it worked, and I was good at it. And because I was good at it, I also knew how to counter it.


    Instead of recoiling, I let him grab my chest. His fingers sank into my aura-infused skin, but before he could pull, I deconstructed the [Bright Sword], imbuing the arm with [Sword Master] instead.


    ¡°Equip: Teleportation,¡± I commanded, switching builds in an instant.


    The [Teleportation] Gift was built with Space as the primary attribute and Connection, Homing, and Mind as the secondary attributes. It allowed for pinpoint accuracy and strategic movement, perfect for what I had in mind.


    I vanished, reappearing behind Silhouette in the blink of an eye. My left arm¡¯s metallic fingers elongated and sharpened like knives courtesy of [Sword Master], striking at his chest in an attempt to rip his heart out instead.


    But Silhouette was faster.


    Before my hand could make contact, his body exploded into a black blur, dissipating like smoke. He reappeared behind me, wielding a massive scythe that he swung in a wide arc.


    The blade came within millimeters of my neck, and I barely teleported away in time.


    When I reappeared a few meters back, I saw that Silhouette had transformed.


    The refined figure in a suit and top hat was gone, replaced by a towering monstrosity. He stood over three meters tall, his humanoid form shrouded in shadow. The cane was gone, replaced by a massive black scythe that exuded a chilling aura.


    His vague silhouette shifted, and slowly, a skull began to emerge where his face should have been. It was ghastly, skeletal, and menacing, with empty eye sockets that seemed to stare straight through me.


    ¡°Very impressive,¡± Silhouette said, his voice deeper, reverberating like the toll of a bell.


    I steadied my breathing, my aura flaring as I prepared for the next round. Silhouette¡¯s Trickster-state aura was in full display now, and it was suffocating.


    This wasn¡¯t just a test anymore. This was a clash of wills, and I couldn¡¯t afford to lose.