"Huuuuh… what a boring way to start the day," Evalyn muttered as she stepped out of the White Wolf Guild's meeting room.
Her boots clicked sharply on the stone floor as her pace quickened. "I wonder if things have already kicked off at the Hunters' Hall. Better get there quick."
She rushed toward her carriage.
"Evalyn! Wait for me!" Sylvie called, hurrying after her.
"Come on, get in!" Evalyn said, pulling the door open.
The carriage jolted forward as soon as they were seated.
"So, what was your meeting about?" Evalyn asked.
Sylvie groaned. "Apparently, all the plans we made? Worthless now. The White Cavalry Guild finally decided to join the raid. Which means my strategy's in the trash, and I get to start over." She threw her head back. "Gods, I need a break."
"They finally agreed, huh? Strange they held out this long," Evalyn said, resting an elbow on the window sill.
"Lots of controversy around them lately. Oh! Did you hear? Apparently Aron didn't kill that Karken. Someone else did."
Evalyn arched an eyebrow. "Hmm. Whether he did or not, the boy's still talented. And there aren't many blessed with light magic these days. White Cavalry's lucky to have him."
Her gaze drifted to the passing streets. "What about the King's health? Any updates?"
Sylvie's sigh was heavy. "Everything I've heard only makes the rumors sound more real. If the King dies, and with the prince so young…" She lowered her voice. "This won't end cleanly."
Evalyn nodded once. "Durkin and Udgard families have been trading with unknown territories. Probably buying support for the throne. If the King really is dying…" Her eyes narrowed. "This country's about to bleed."
Sylvie tilted her head. "You think this raid is connected? A little political theater?"
Evalyn shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're here to hunt, not to play crowns and thrones."
The carriage slowed to a halt.
They stepped out, making their way through the halls of the Hunters' Hall.
"So, what kind of monsters are we testing them against?" Sylvie asked.
Evalyn smirked. "That's the twist."
Sylvie shot her a suspicious glare. "Evalyn. Don't tell me you deviated from the report I submitted. Again."
"Just follow me." Evalyn strode ahead.
They entered the viewing chamber above the arena. Sylvie stopped dead in her tracks.
"Why is there a man standing in the arena?" she demanded. "We agreed they'd be tested against monsters!"
Evalyn didn't answer immediately. Her gaze stayed fixed on the lone figure below, standing perfectly still in the sand, head lowered, shoulders loose. Too loose.
Finally, she said quietly, "That's Erik. The one who killed the Karken."
Sylvie blinked. "Wait… that was him? I thought Aron was credited with that kill."
"So did most."
"Entering sixth team!" Yosul's voice boomed across the arena.
Evalyn's expression hardened. "You asked why I chose Erik? Watch carefully. His fighting style—it isn't human."
The signal rang.
Thirteen rookies entered the arena.
Two mages.
Five archers.
Six swordsmen.
Two swordsmen rushed forward as a pair of arrows whistled through the air. Erik didn't retreat—he lunged into the attack.
One arrow grazed past him, the other he snatched out of the air. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it across the arena. The rear archer never saw it coming. The arrow punched through his shield and dropped him screaming.
Erik hit the swordsmen like a storm. One blade came down—he slid under it, seized the wielder's wrist, and twisted.
The second swordsman raised his sword high, but Erik's heel snapped into his jaw. The shield burst, and the man flew backward. Erik spun with the first, wrenched him around, and drew his dagger across his throat.
The mana barrier shattered in a flash of light.
"What the…" Sylvie whispered.
"He doesn't fight like a soldier," Evalyn said, eyes unblinking. "He rushes first, then coils. Every movement is meant to break formations, to isolate prey. He doesn't defend—he hunts. He uses fear, confusion, pressure. Look at their faces. They don't know what they're fighting."
Seven left.
A mage, guarded by an archer.
Another archer breaking left, scrambling for distance.
Three swordsmen frozen in place, their blades wavering.
The wide-flanking archer loosed a desperate shot. Erik swayed aside, then surged forward like a beast on the hunt.
Before the boy could reload, Erik's hand clamped his face and slammed him into the dirt. His shield burst on impact.
The two nearest swordsmen panicked and charged. Erik scooped up the fallen bow and hurled it low—wood cracked against one man's shin.
The other blinked just in time to see Erik's fist crash into his face. His body was sent flying, crashing into the mage and his guard.
The archer tried to shield the mage, but the tangled collision dragged them both to the ground, disrupting the spell.
Erik didn't give them time to breathe. He stomped hard into the chest of the downed swordsman, eyes already locked on the last man standing.
The final rookie swallowed hard, blade trembling. He forced himself forward, swinging down.
Too slow. Erik was already there. He caught the man's wrist, drove the dagger home, and split the shield apart at the gut.
"That's not training," Evalyn finished. "That's instinct. He's a predator."
Silence fell.
Not one of them could rise.
"Round over! Prepare the next one!" Yosul's voice rang again.
Sylvie leaned closer to the glass, eyes wide. "Gods… he really is a monster. A proper...monster. And why isn't he in our guild already?"
"Mm," Evalyn said. "he prefers to fight alone. Claims it gives him peace of mind."
Sylvie smirked faintly. "Peace of mind, huh? Somehow I like him already."
Evalyn shot her a look. "Don't try anything stupid. If you push him the wrong way, he won't hesitate. And as you just saw—he's very good at killing people."
Sylvie raised her hands. "Alright, alright. Let's just go find Yosul about the selections."
The two women turned and headed down the hall as the arena's gates opened again.
"Entering seventh team!" Yosul called out.