Zhen stood tall, his black irises unflinching as they met the glinting line of spears under the wary gaze of the Official Blood Hunters.
"North," Zhen answered, his voice short and steady.
The tone was calm, yet carried a chill that seeped deep into bone.
The hunters exchanged glances, doubt carved clearly across their faces. Everyone knew the Northern clan had long been buried beneath the blast of the past, leaving behind only ghost stories of one who survived.
"The North is gone," one of them snapped, raising his spear. His voice was laced with anger. "Don't play with that name!"
Zhen's lips curved in a faint smile as he looked at the four hunters who refused to believe him.
"In that case," he whispered, almost gently, "think of me as the ghost of what remains of the North, risen again."
His words split the air, taut with dread. Spears lunged as one, slicing the air.
Yet the Broukirakh Shield surrounding the Northern Hunter shuddered like a wall of moss-green stone, deflecting the stabbing points that sought his life but failed to pierce his defense.
The four hunters no longer dared to underestimate him. The man dressed in black had shown his strength was no trivial thing.
Far away, Ito—who was cutting through another path—paused. He felt the echo of impact against his own magic shield, but quickly forced it aside. He needed to reach the meeting point with the Northern Hunter.
At first, the Official Blood Hunters' eyes were hard, but then something shifted. One among them, standing in the back, widened his eyes when he caught sight of the bracelet circling Zhen's wrist.
"Look… that bracelet," he whispered, his voice nearly breaking.
Murmurs spread swiftly among them. The spears once held high, ready to strike, slowly lowered. Suspicion gave way to a gaze more calculating.
"He's… an Official Blood Hunter?"
"It's true. He wasn't lying."
A broad-shouldered man, a scar slashing across his cheek, finally stepped forward. He lowered his spear slowly, his sharp gaze fixed on Zhen.
"We're short of one to complete the group. If you're willing, you're more than worthy to stand among us."
He pressed each word carefully, his voice carrying a blend of respect and caution.
"Join our group. And you know well—anyone who refuses is refusing the System's sacred command."
The air around them seemed to tighten, waiting for the Northern Hunter's answer.
Zhen fell silent. Bowed his head. A faint smile etched across his lips.
A smile impossible to read—whether it marked agreement or a hidden snare, a meaning that eluded his prey.
"A group, is it?" he murmured softly.
His hand brushed against the bracelet on his wrist, as if weighing the thought.
"Very well. I'll join." He raised his head, his black eyes gleaming like freshly honed obsidian.
Silence struck as their gazes locked, an unspoken clash humming between them.
"Good. With this, we can leave the grasslands more quickly." The hunter in mahogany garb pressed on, steering the exchange.
A few faces eased, relief slipping through as though the problem had finally been solved. But from the rear line, a gaunt hunter with sunken eyes furrowed his brow. His voice cut sharp with doubt.
The one cloaked in maroon seemed keenly alert.
"Why are you alone here?" he asked coldly. "These grasslands are riddled with traps. No hunter survives long without a group. Or were you waiting here for us to pass by?"
The tall grass swayed gently, as if eavesdropping on their words.
The hunters' eyes shifted back and forth, torn between their urge to complete the formation and the suspicion now curling back into their chests.
Zhen, however, paid it no mind. He only stood still, as if savoring the unease threading deeper into their hearts.
At last, the scarred hunter broke the frozen silence with a sharp gesture of his spear.
"Stand to the left. The formation needs balance. We must move quickly before the grass closes the path."
Zhen obeyed at once, falling into place without resistance.
Relief softened a few faces, as if a weight had lifted now that the formation was whole. Their spears turned forward again, ready to carve through the lush sea of grass stretching endlessly ahead.
Yet the hollow-eyed hunter kept staring at Zhen without blinking.
"I don't like men who appear at the perfect time as if they were waiting for a call," he muttered, just loud enough for all to hear.
"You may come, but I'll be watching your every move."
Zhen finally glanced back at him.
"Good. Every group needs suspicious eyes. That's what keeps us… alive."
His words deepened the silence, pressing it tighter. They continued their steady march, parting the grass with disciplined steps.
Before long, the Savvan blades trembled unnaturally—not from wind but from something moving beneath.
A hunter at the front line froze, raising his hand in warning.
"Quiet. Something's watching."
A fissure split the earth, widening fast, carving open the soil into jagged holes. From them poured a swarm of black insects, each the size of a man's palm, their bodies gleaming like iron, wings beating with a piercing, unnatural hum.
"Impostor Beasts!"
"Close formation!"
They tightened their ranks, spears locking into a triangular pattern. Zhen fell into step with them, though his eyes lingered not on the monsters but on the hunters themselves, studying every gap in their guard.
The first attack came from below—creatures clawing upward, clinging to calves, sinking their fangs deep to gnaw at flesh.
A short scream broke out but was smothered quickly by the hollow-eyed hunter's hand, lest the sound draw more of the swarm.
Zhen lowered a hand to the ground, fingers closing around one of the large stones he had once pointed out to Ito. For a fleeting moment, amusement flickered in him—the stone meant to serve as a hunter's weapon had instead been planted as the eye of the impostors.
"Split their heads open! Don't let these rotten insects block us!" barked the hunter in mahogany robes.
Spears whirled skewering and grinding the insects into pulp.
Zhen slammed the stone down on a creature that tried to crawl up his leg. A sharp crack split the air as the thing's body shattered into fragments. His faint smile lingered, as though he had found amusement in the heart of danger.
Amid the chaos, the hollow-eyed hunter never once let his gaze stray from Zhen. His suspicion kept him bound, yet it left him blind to what crept closer.
"You're enjoying this strange field far too much. Something about you… is wrong," he muttered inwardly, the weight of doubt gnawing at him.
His doubt had been sharp, but not sharp enough to cut faster than Zhen's blade.
Then a sudden cry tore his thoughts apart.
"Behind you!"
Steel flashed once. Too fast for eyes to follow. Then four bodies dropped.
Blood burst forth in unison, painting the air before spilling to soak the roots of the grass. Four pairs of legs were cleaved away at once, strong bodies collapsing like stalks ripped mercilessly from the earth.
Their screams strangled in their throats, drowned out by the trembling hum of a sword still thirsty.
"You… traitor…"
The word broke apart in a cough of blood.