[Ren's Team – Tactical Briefing Room, 20:47 PM]
The room was dim, lit only by the pale blue glow of a large screen. A satellite map of Verusa Island pulsed quietly with data lines—static outlines of the terrain, blinking red markers for past attacks, and scattered, incomplete readings of mana flux.
Ren sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, sharp eyes fixed on the map. His team flanked him—Lysa, Karn, Rina, Jude, and Sil seated in silence. The only sound was the hum of the projector.
Jude stood, a silver pointer in her hand. With a tap, she shifted the map.
"Here," she said crisply, her tone precise and fast-paced. "We've had confirmed attacks in these five sectors over the last 48 hours—" she highlighted them, one after another. "But that's not the important part."
She paused, pointing to a cluster near the center.
"All signs lead here—Sector 6C. We've got overlapping witness reports, unregistered mana traces, and even a few missing hunters. If the boss is hiding anywhere, it's underground. This sector contains collapsed ruins—perfect for nesting."
The general leaned forward, frowning. "We've run scans. There's no portal signature. Not even a faint one."
Jude smiled faintly, like a professor humoring a slow student.
"That's because you're looking for an open portal," she explained, pacing slowly. "But portals don't just exist—they're fed. The mana signature you're scanning for comes from the beasts inside. If the creature is dormant, or the portal's on the verge of collapse, the mana levels drop below detectable thresholds."
Ren leaned back slightly, nodding. "Makes sense. You're saying it's stealth-housed. Mana locked."
Jude tapped the map again. "Exactly. Think of it like a closed wound. It doesn't bleed until it's forced open. And when it does—" she flipped to a new slide: a flash image of an exploded village—"we're too late."
The general grunted. "So what do you propose?"
Ren looked to Sil, who remained silent, then turned back. "We move at night. It gives us cover, reduces collateral, and if the portal opens... they'll come to us."
"Sil," he said calmly, "Make the announcement. All hunters assemble for midnight briefing."
Sil stood and vanished wordlessly into the hallway.
The general scowled. "I'll ready my men."
Ren shook his head once. "Negative. Standard weapons won't penetrate mana-imbued flesh. Your presence will increase casualties."
"These aren't standard grunts," the general replied tightly. "I'll assign five of my best. Not just soldiers—A-ranks. Full combat clearance."
Ren exhaled. "Fine. We divide into five squads. One team per ruin. Whoever finds the portal first gives the signal. Speed, silence, survival. This is a battle of wits now."
The screen split into five zones. Ren pointed to each in turn.
"Karn, take North Ridge. Rina, the Sunken Mines. Lysa, the Frozen Hollow. Sil and I will take the inner trench."
"And Jude?"
Ren glanced sideways, just as Jude smirked and folded her arms.
"She gets the complex ruins," he said. "Too many passages. Too many unknowns. Needs a brain, not a blade."
Jude winked at the general. "I'll bring you the boss's teeth in a box."
Ren nodded once. "We move at 23:00. This ends before sunrise."
[Sector 9 – Temporary Camp Outskirts, 21:36 PM]
The perimeter buzzed with tension. Hunters and soldiers swarmed in pockets, prepping weapons, bartering supplies, and arguing over camp protocols. Near the East Gate, one soldier's patience was visibly cracking.
"I said stay back," the soldier barked, stepping in front of a cocky-looking hunter with a jagged scar across his jaw. The hunter shoved forward, brushing past like the uniform meant nothing.
"Relax, pretty boy. I don't take orders from rent-a-cops," the hunter sneered.
The soldier, a young man barely older than the hunter, squared his stance, hand lowering to the sidearm strapped to his thigh. "This is your last warning. Cooperate, or I draw."
The hunter just laughed, cracked his knuckles, and said, "You can try—"
CRACK!
The air shifted. A blur of motion.
In less than a blink, the hunter's nose exploded under a vicious palm strike. He staggered back, eyes wide with shock and blood dripping onto his chest. The source of the strike stepped forward.
Short blond hair. Combat boots. Tight black pants and a sleeveless tactical vest. Her build was lean but coiled like a spring, and the confidence in her eyes made the surrounding hunters unconsciously step back.
She twirled a pair of pistol-like weapons in her hands—sleek, reinforced with engraved silver veins—and pointed one straight at the man's chest.
"You don't hit on my men," she said flatly, lips curling with amusement.
The hunter wiped his mouth, growled, then lunged.
It didn't matter.
She sidestepped him like she'd seen it coming five minutes ago. Her heel swept his legs out, and she spun around him with a dancer's grace, unloading three pinpoint shots—one to the shoulder, one to the knee, and one just near the ear—each pulling back just enough not to kill.
The crowd winced. The hunter hit the dirt.
"Too slow," she teased, barrel hovering inches from his skull as he tried to crawl away. "Or too stupid. Can't decide."
Ethan stood across the clearing, watching from the shadows.
"Now that's impressive," he muttered.
[Inspect Skill Activated]
[Name: Alina Veyre]
[Rank: A-Rank]
[Title: Echo Trigger]
[Skill: Premonition Reflex – She can see short flashes of the immediate future in combat, allowing her to dodge and counter with perfect precision. Time window: 0.8–1.2 seconds.]
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
"That explains it… she sees the attack before it even starts."
He smiled faintly, slipping deeper into the crowd unnoticed. "Guess I'll avoid picking a fight with that one."
[Sector 9 – Interior Tent Camp, 23:12 PM]
Inside a wide, sand-colored military tent, low lanterns flickered, casting shadows on the rough canvas walls. The sound of zippers, armor plates clinking, and boot thuds filled the room like a steady war drum. Soldiers lined up in formation, sliding bullets into sleek magazines and checking the seals on their tactical suits. Every movement was precise, like clockwork—coordinated, practiced, lethal.
Alina Veyre stood slightly apart from the others, tightening the last strap on her armored vest. Her blond hair was tied back in a rough bun, her pistols holstered but humming with mana-sensitive tech. Her eyes scanned the room—not out of nervousness, but anticipation. She lived for the moment just before chaos. And it was nearly time.
Outside, the air was electric.
Hunters lined up at the makeshift sharpening stations near the perimeter, some crouched over whetstones, others flexing their fingers and murmuring spells under their breath. A few low-rankers laughed to shake off nerves, but most were silent—too focused, or too scared, to joke.
Steel screeched. Sparks flew. And further beyond, far out of camp—something else stirred.
[Far beyond the perimeter – Rooftop of a booster station, 23:28 PM]
A lone figure stood on the edge of a high-rise telecom booster tower. The night wind tousled his shoulder-length silver hair, brushing his leather coat as he inhaled slowly, as if taking in the scent of tension in the air.
Sean.
His eyes gleamed faintly—inhuman, crimson edged.
He stepped forward without hesitation, and with a casual lean—
He jumped.
No sound. No scream. Just air cutting past him like blades as he descended, gravity pulling faster and faster.
BOOOOM!
Metal crunched. A delivery truck parked beneath the tower flattened like paper, debris flying into the air. Dust blanketed the alley as the impact echoed through the block.
Then—cracks. Wet pops.
As the dust cleared, his body twisted, mangled bones snapping back into place. Muscles realigned. His jaw, hanging sideways, rolled back up and clicked into place with a sound that made nearby rats scatter.
"Whooo!" Sean groaned, cracking his neck with a grin. "That one nearly tickled."
"You know you will die one day doing that."
Sean turned to him, still stretching like a man waking from a nap.
"Well," he quipped, "so will you. But I like to make entrances. You should try it sometime."
Agung frowned, arms crossed. "We're not cleared to strike yet. You know that."
Sean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, orders, protocols, all that serious we-don't-want-the-Queen-yelling-again crap. But the addicted ones? Come on, you think they'll wait? They see humans, they'll lunge. Boom. Blood buffet."
He stepped past Agung, bones still cracking faintly as they healed.
"We might be vampires, but they? They're rabid dogs on chains... and that chain's already fraying."