Kai traveled for three more days without seeing another human soul.
The deeper Rift zones were a different world, trees so tall their canopies blotted out the sun, roots thick as houses twisting across the ground like sleeping serpents. The air tasted heavy, charged with raw energy that made his skin prickle and Nyx's fur bristle constantly.
He hunted, slept in high branches, and pushed northwest toward the rumors he'd heard in the slums: a rogue guild that operated beyond city law, taking contracts no sanctioned group would touch. They called themselves the Ashen Blades, Rift hunters who lived by their own code.
If anywhere would shelter a wanted man, it was there.
On the fourth morning, the terrain changed. The forest thinned into jagged badlands scarred by old Rifts, cracked earth, rivers of slow-moving blue fog, and scattered ruins half-swallowed by the ground.
Kai crested a ridge and stopped.
Below, in a wide basin ringed by broken stone pillars, sprawled a makeshift settlement.
Dozens of tents and rough timber buildings clustered around a massive permanent Rift gate, a swirling purple vortex thirty meters tall, chained and stabilized with iron pylons. Armored wagons rolled in and out. Beasts of every rank roamed fenced pens: flame salamanders, stone rhinos, even a chained thunder wyvern snapping at handlers.
People moved with purpose, scarred veterans, young hotheads, merchants hawking Rift loot. No city banners. No noble crests.
This was it.
Nyx pressed close to his neck, ears flat. Too many strong presences.
Kai pulled his hood lower and descended the slope.
At the edge of the camp, two guards lounged against a barricade, one a burly man with a battle-axe and an earth tortoise dozing at his feet, the other a lean woman with twin daggers and a venom hawk perched on her shoulder.
They straightened as he approached.
"State your business," the man rumbled.
Kai kept his voice steady. "Looking for work. Heard the Ashen Blades take anyone who can pull their weight."
The woman's hawk screeched, eyeing Nyx curiously.
The man frowned. "We don't take green kids. You got a beast?"
Kai let Nyx materialize fully on his shoulder, the juvenile phantom pup form, sleek shadow fur, crimson eyes glowing faintly.
The tortoise snorted uneasily. The hawk flapped its wings.
The woman leaned forward. "Never seen a breed like that. Shadow wolf? No, too ethereal. Where'd you contract it?"
"Low-rank zone," Kai said. "It's… rare."
The man exchanged a glance with her, then jerked his thumb toward the camp center. "Captain's tent. Big one with the black flag. He'll decide if you're worth feeding."
Kai nodded and walked past.
The camp smelled of smoke, sweat, and beast musk. Conversations died as he passed, eyes tracking the stranger with the unknown creature. Whispers followed.
"Kid's got guts coming alone."
"That beast… feels wrong."
"Looks like the Shadow Null from the posters."
Kai kept moving.
The captain's tent was impossible to miss, black canvas reinforced with metal plates, twin crossed blades embroidered in ash-gray thread above the entrance.
Two more guards stood outside, but they waved him in without a word.
Inside, the air was warmer, lit by floating orbs of soft white light. Maps covered a central table. Weapon racks lined the walls. Pelts and Rift crystals decorated the space like trophies.
Behind the table sat a man in his late forties, broad-shouldered, gray-streaked beard, a jagged scar running from left eye to jaw. His beast lounged beside him: a massive ash-gray direwolf with embers glowing in its fur.
The man looked up from a ledger, eyes sharp.
"Name."
"Kai."
"No surname?"
"None worth giving."
The captain Ragnar, if the rumors were true—leaned back, studying Kai and Nyx with the calm of someone who'd seen every kind of monster.
"Heard about you," Ragnar said finally. "Shadow Null. Eight hundred gold on your head. City says you're dangerous."
Kai met his gaze. "Do I look dangerous?"
Ragnar's mouth twitched. "You look like a kid who's about to get eaten out here. But your beast…" He nodded at Nyx. "That's no ordinary shadow breed. Feels like it's staring into my soul."
Nyx tilted its head innocently.
Ragnar drummed fingers on the table. "We don't care about city bounties here. Long as you don't bring patrols down on us. But we don't carry dead weight either."
He pushed a contract parchment across the table.
"Probationary member. One month. You pull your weight on hunts, you eat and sleep under our banner. You slack, you're out. You betray us, the Rifts take you."
Kai scanned the terms, standard rogue guild stuff. No questions about pasts. Share of loot based on contribution. Protection while inside camp.
He signed with a charcoal stylus: Kai.
Ragnar rolled the parchment. "Good. Tent row three, bunk with the new bloods. First hunt's tomorrow, mid-rank Rift clear. Old sealing temple inside. Clients want the core crystal."
He paused.
"One more thing. We've got rules about forbidden power. If your beast starts eating souls or summoning demons, we put you down. No discussion."
Kai nodded. "Understood."
Ragnar waved dismissal.
Outside, Kai exhaled.
He had shelter. Food. A chance to grow stronger.
Nyx purred approval.
The bunk tent was crowded, ten hammocks strung between poles, occupied by a mix of young hunters and scarred veterans. Conversations hushed when he entered.
A lanky boy with freckles and a frost ferret on his lap broke the silence. "New meat? I'm Jorin."
Others introduced themselves warily: Mira (quiet healer with a light sprite), Brak (huge axe-wielder with no beast but raw strength), and several others.
No one asked about the bounty. Not yet.
That night, Kai ate his first hot meal in a week, thick stew with Rift boar meat and hard bread. Nyx absorbed shadow from the campfire's edges, growing denser.
He slept lightly, dagger under his pillow.
Dawn brought the hunt.
Twenty hunters gathered at the stabilized Rift gate, Ragnar leading, his ember direwolf padding silently.
Kai's group: five probationaries including him and Jorin, plus two veterans for oversight.
The veteran in charge was Garrick, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, weathered face, and a massive iron-back bear that walked upright like a man. His eyes lingered on Kai longer than the others.
"Stay in formation," Garrick grunted as they stepped through the gate. "Temple's crawling with mid-rank guardians. Stone golems, shadow wraiths. Touch nothing that glows red."
The Rift inside was different, vast cavernous halls of black stone, ceilings lost in darkness, ancient murals depicting thrones and chained beasts.
Kai's [Seal Perception] flared constantly. Crimson threads everywhere.
This place was thick with fragments.
They moved carefully.
First contact: three stone golems blocking a corridor.
Ragnar's direwolf charged, embers igniting fur into flame. Claws raked stone, cracking armor.
Hunters followed, arrows, axes, beast skills.
Kai hung back at first, letting Nyx use Phantom Dash to harass from blind spots, Shadow Bind to trip legs.
Clean kill. Loot divided.
Deeper in, shadow wraiths ambushed, ethereal figures that drained life with touch.
Garrick's bear roared, swatting them like insects.
Kai's turn to shine.
Nyx's Abyssal Gaze paralyzed two wraiths mid-lunge.
Phantom Dash through their cores dispersed them instantly.
Jorin stared. "How…?"
Garrick watched silently, expression unreadable.
They reached the central chamber, a massive domed hall with a raised dais. At its center: a cracked celestial throne fragment, chains dangling, a glowing red crystal embedded in the armrest.
The core they'd come for.
But guardians remained.
Six elite stone sentinels, taller, rune-etched, moving with unnatural speed.
Battle erupted.
Ragnar's group took the front. Beasts clashed. Skills lit the dark.
Kai's probationary team supported from flanks.
One sentinel broke through, charging their line.
Garrick's bear intercepted, but the impact sent the old hunter staggering.
The sentinel raised a fist the size of a boulder.
Kai moved without thinking.
Shadow Step, he blinked into darkness behind the sentinel.
Nyx Phantom Dashed simultaneously, appearing above.
Shadow Bind wrapped the arms.
Abyssal Gaze locked its runes.
Kai's dagger found a glowing joint, channeling all his strength and Nyx's spirit boost.
Crack.
The sentinel froze, then crumbled.
The hall fell silent for a heartbeat.
Ragnar glanced back, eyebrow raised.
Garrick stared at Kai, something new in his eyes, recognition.
The rest of the fight wrapped quickly.
Core crystal harvested.
On the return march, Garrick fell in beside Kai.
"That wasn't normal shadow skills," the old man said quietly. "I've hunted forty years. Seen breeds come and go. Yours… feels older."
Kai stayed silent.
Garrick continued. "Long ago, before the sealing war, there were Tamers who bound things from the Thrones. Most went mad. Some became legends. Others calamities."
He clapped a heavy hand on Kai's shoulder.
"Whatever path you're on, boy, walk it careful. Power like that doesn't come free."
Kai nodded.
Back at camp, loot divided.
Kai's share: three mid-rank crystals, coin enough for proper gear, and a new reputation.
Whispers spread faster now.
The Shadow Null wasn't just running.
He was hunting.
That night, around the probationary fire, Jorin leaned in.
"So… city really wants you dead?"
Kai poked the flames. "Seems like it."
Mira, the healer, spoke softly. "Why?"
He considered lying. Instead, he let Nyx fully materialize, pup form stretching shadows long across the ground.
"Because I contracted something they're afraid of."
The group stared.
Brak whistled. "Worth eight hundred gold? Damn."
Garrick joined them uninvited, sitting heavily.
"Leave the kid be," he growled. "He pulled weight today. That's what matters."
Conversation shifted to safer topics, next hunts, gear upgrades.
But Kai noticed Garrick watching him still.
Later, alone in his hammock, the system updated.
[Quest Complete: First Group Hunt]
[Reward: Reputation with Ashen Blades +50. Shared experience gain unlocked.]
[New Title: Probationary Blade]
[Corruption Resonance stable at 30.2%]
Nyx curled against his chest, warm for the first time, shadow fur taking on faint heat from the fire.
Kai stared at the tent ceiling.
He had allies. Temporary, maybe. But real.
A place to grow.
And tomorrow, another hunt.
The thrones could wait.
For now, he'd become strong enough that when they stirred, he'd be ready.