An hour passed, but the silence within the caravan was unnerving—thick, stifling, as if the very air were holding its breath. The soft patter of rain against the roof provided the only rhythm, a constant hum that blended with the creaking of the wooden frame beneath them. Each creak was like a whisper of the impending danger, each drop of rain a reminder of how far they were from safety. The fog outside had deepened, a thick shroud that seemed to close in around them, making the world feel smaller, claustrophobic.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, a sound—one small, delicate, but unmistakable—pierced the silence. Footsteps.
At first, they were nothing more than a whisper against the wet earth, a slight shuffle too distant to pinpoint. But then, they grew louder, the rhythm of their approach becoming clearer.
Zay's lips curled into a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk
Zay activated [Predator's Hunting Grounds].
The world shifted around him. The fog and the walls of the caravan seemed to blur, fading into a dim background as lines and patterns began to appear before his eyes.
Each line was a thread—an aura, a presence. Zay saw the space around him as if it were a map, the intricate web of life, drawn in shimmering streaks. The footsteps no longer mattered; he didn't need to see their bodies, or hear their feet to know their every move. He felt them.
"Nine." Zay's voice was quiet, cold, but certain, as the footsteps grew louder.
He let the patterns unfold, like the movements of a predator stalking its prey, and then—the mistake.
His gaze snapped to the left side of the caravan. One of the lines, one of the moving auras, shifted abruptly. There was no natural flow, no seamless transition—it jerked, broken and uneven. The aura had been disturbed, shifted off-course by something, whether by intention or mistake.
Zay's smirk deepened. He didn't need to see the figure. He already knew.
"We've won."
His voice was low, but there was a biting edge to it, as though he had already seen the end. He leaned back slightly, a cold laugh escaping his lips.
Rome, still on the floor with a confused expression, frowned. "What do you mean... we already won?"
Zay's eyes glinted with a dangerous satisfaction as he watched the lines. "One of them..." he began, his voice smooth, almost like a whisper to himself, "The flow of his aura... it's different. Not by much... but for my eyes, it's more than enough."
He reached down, fingers brushing the hilt of Evershade, the midnight-blue katana. He exhaled slowly, focusing. His senses were tuned to every detail, every subtle shift in the air.
"They're coming." His voice was sharp now, a command. "Get ready. They'll break in soon. But they've already lost."
The tension in the air seemed to crystallize around them, thick and tangible, as Zay's gaze shifted from the door to the figures he had already calculated. "They've made their mistake," he murmured with a grin.
The back of the caravan split open with a violent crack. In an instant, Zay's instincts kicked in. He unsheathed Evershade, and a surge of midnight-blue aura erupted around him, merging with his violet energy in a vivid display. The air thickened with tension as his senses sharpened.
The blade flashed, a blur of motion, slicing through the fog and the figure that had emerged from the shadows. One body collapsed, decapitated in an instant. The head rolled, a lifeless thud against the wet earth. Zay's cold eyes flickered briefly as he surveyed the results of his strike.
'Even if someone is stronger... it doesn't matter if they don't expect something, or if they can't respond to it in time.' He thought, a rare, grim satisfaction creeping into his mind. 'This guy was stronger than me... I can tell from the aura pattern he was giving off when approaching. But he made the mistake of underestimating us. He thought we were easy pickings.'
Zay leapt backward, landing effortlessly atop the caravan, scanning the area for any signs of movement.
Rin's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Well… what now?"
Rin stood on the edge of the caravan, his muscles coiled as he pulled himself up onto the roof with a single smooth pull-up. His dagger gleamed in his hand, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the surroundings.
Zay's lips curled into a wry smile, his expression almost detached. "Never thought I'd make it this far... honestly? I was bullshitting. I didn't expect that to actually work on these guys. I have no damn clue what to do from here."
Rin tilted his head, shaking it slightly, the faintest exhale of frustration escaping his lips. "We don't have a choice now."
Zay could feel the weight of the situation pressing on him as he looked around. The fog around them was thick, but something was off. He couldn't see any figures, couldn't feel the presence of their enemies despite the lingering tension in the air. The silence hung heavy, suffocating even.
Jade, standing at the back of the caravan, scanned the fog with sharp eyes. She saw nothing. No movement. No sound.
The eerie quiet stretched on, like the calm before a storm. A cold shiver ran down her spine, not from the fog, but from the unsettling sensation that they were being watched—waiting for something to happen.
Suddenly, the lines Zay saw began to stretch further and further until they left the range of his passive. After a few seconds, the fog slowly started to fade, leaving only them, the heavy rain falling, and the lifeless body and head in the wet earth below.
Rin looked around, then over at Zay. "Well, I guess after killing the first one, the rest of them didn't want to push their luck?"
Zay swallowed, still unsure of why they left. "... I don't think that's it. They outnumbered us... and the aura I felt from them... it was stronger than anything else I've encountered here."
Rin blinked a few times, confusion crossing his face. "Hm... that's strange then. Even stronger than Elder Kyro?"
"If that first guy..." Zay pointed at the body and head in the wet earth, "If he hadn't underestimated the caravan and had actually been ready, that would've been me instead. I'm lucky he thought it was just a caravan driver and not anyone else with him. How they didn't notice Jade's aura... I'm not sure, but they didn't."
Jade stood onto the edge of the caravan, her gaze shifting upward to the two standing on the roof. "So, I take it that means we're walking again?"
Zay exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly in frustration. "I guess it does."
Without another word, Zay and Rin dropped down from the roof, slipping back into the caravan. The inside was still. Too quiet. They looked around but didn't see Rome anywhere.
"I guess he ran for it? Probably got scared or something," Zay muttered, sinking onto a nearby seat to catch his breath. He couldn't quite believe that their last move actually worked.
Zay, Jade, and Rin stepped out of the caravan, their boots sinking into the wet earth as they passed the lifeless body, leaving it behind. The smell of blood mixed with the damp scent of the rain-soaked air, clinging to their clothes. They began walking in the direction the horses were heading, following the muddy trail of the dirt road.
'Can't believe I'm getting my boots even dirtier,' Jade thought, the frustration barely contained in the sharp exhale that escaped her lips. Her boots squelched with each step, and the rain pelted down relentlessly, soaking through the fabric of their cloaks.
As the trio continued along the road, the heavy rain showed no sign of letting up. The cold droplets slammed against their faces, stinging their skin with each gust of wind.
—
Rome leaned against the trees, his eyes barely visible as he peeked from behind a trunk. He reached up, pulling a gloved hand to his ear. The dark red glow from his glove pulsed for a moment before fading.
"I found him," Rome's voice was low, steady, but edged with something unspoken. "The one who got Mika captured and killed."
Rome reached up and grabbed at his face, peeling off the skin like a mask. For a brief moment, the form beneath it was unsettling—a blank, lifeless canvas. The skin was discarded in his hand like a mere prop, revealing a mask of illusions beneath.
'A mask of illusions... now we know it works properly. It was indeed a good test.'
Rome's face shifted. With the mask back in place, his appearance twisted, aging rapidly into that of a frail man in his eighties. A cane appeared in his grasp as he straightened, beginning to shuffle away through the trees with deliberate, slow steps.