CHAPTER 18 - 18: DOGS OF THE CREED

It didn't take long for the masked men to catch up.

Arden leaned back against the alley wall as they stepped in, two of them, faces covered, carrying the stench of thuggery and desperation.

One of them smirked. "Nice mask. Bet you've got plenty more where that came from. Hand it all over, your coin, gear, everything."

Arden raised a brow, arms still crossed. "So that's it? You follow people out of shops, rob them, and call it a job?"

The second man grunted. "Don't need to work when chumps like you walk around flashing sen."

Arden clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You two are mid-stage vein surge, yet you're still crawling in alleys like rats. Too scared to earn it properly in the outlands, huh?"

That did it.

The first one lunged, swinging a short blade. Arden stepped aside, caught his wrist, and twisted it, making the man crash into the wall.

The second tried to follow up, but a sharp kick to the gut folded him over.

Arden sighed. "I really don't have time for this."

He turned to leave, but then one of them hissed, pulling a paper seal from his pouch.

Before Arden could react, the talisman lit up and lashed across his body.

A jolt ran through him as the seal clamped down, supposedly cutting off his access to Aether.

The thugs straightened, smug now.

"Well, well. Not so cocky now, are you?"

"Looks like your luck ran out, pretty boy."

They didn't get far with the insults. Arden rolled his neck, took a single step forward, and his boot crashed into the speaker's chest. And he flew back like a sack of hay.

"I don't need Aether to deal with trash."

But really the source of his strength was a different energy.

The other turned to run, but Arden was already in front of him.

A few punches later, they were both on the ground groaning, barely able to crawl.

While he beat one of them hard enough to loosen the armor plates, something caught his eye.

A tattoo — half-concealed, snaking down the thug's shoulder. Arden froze for a second. He'd seen that same pattern before. In the bandit leader's memory.

So this was their mark.

His tone dropped as he muttered, "Dogs from the same kennel."

He crouched and grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him close. "What's the name?"

The thug coughed. "P-Purity Creed... please..."

Arden's eyes narrowed. "Who runs it? What's your mission?"

"We—we don't know. We're just new recruits, I swear. Some guy found us... offered strength, a family... said we'd have backing. We took the deal. Got branded. After that, they just told us what to do."

"Which is?"

"Find and capture any exiled or soon-to-be-banished dual affinity users. Said it'd earn us our full place in the Creed."

Arden's jaw tightened. "Why?"

The thug hesitated. "We didn't ask. One of us heard something about... experiments. That's all."

Arden stood, letting him slump to the ground.

He didn't need more.

It was enough to confirm that someone was targeting people like him. Someone organized and ruthless enough to hide in plain sight.

He leaned down again, voice low and steady.

"You forget this meeting ever happened. Tell no one. Not even your shadows. Or I'll come back for you, and you'll wish I ended it today."

They nodded frantically, too beaten to speak properly.

With that, Arden knocked them out cold and left their bodies slumped in the alley.

He still had a use for them in the future.

But right now, he had somewhere more important to be

As Arden left the town, he didn't bother hiding this time. There was no need.

The mask he bought was already doing its job, letting him walk through the gates like any other traveler. He gave a nod to the guard at the post and moved on, not slowing his steps.

The trip back through the outlands started off smooth. He wasn't in any rush, taking his time and hunting monsters that strayed close to his path.

Every fragment he absorbed mattered and they were accumulating with each kill.

Every kill was with a practiced skill that synced him deeper with his life energy. That was how he grew. Not just stronger, but sharper -in instinct, and in rhythm.

He had just finished cutting down a broad-fanged razorback, wiping the blood off his blade when he paused.

Not even paying attention to the system interface before him, as something pulled at him — faint, but steady. A shift in the link between him and Zephyra.

He frowned.

She was calling out.

Not with words, but with doubt and uncertainty. And that alone was enough to put him on edge.

Without wasting a second, he picked up his pace. He cut across ridges, slipping past a few beasts instead of wasting time on them.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't just some passing threat. If Zephyra was unsure, then it meant real danger.

And Arden couldn't sit still knowing she was trying to hold things together.

His thoughts kept circling.

What went wrong? Was it another beast? No... she wouldn't call out unless it was something different. Something she couldn't handle alone.

Meanwhile, at the shelter deep in the outlands, Zephyra stood in front of the girl, Nyra. Her tail lashed once, eyes narrowed.

Around them, a group of men spread out, forming a loose circle. Their weapons weren't drawn yet, but their intent was loud and clear.

They weren't here for a chat.

And Zephyra knew it wasn't her they wanted. It was the girl she was told to protect.

She could leave or break through them and vanish into the woods.

She had the speed and strength. But that wasn't the order Arden gave her.

Protect Nyra.

No matter what.

So she stayed.

Muscles tense, ears flat, teeth bared. She waited.

The tension cracked when one of them couldn't hold back anymore. With a yell, he launched forward, blade raised—

Zephyra moved.

The fight had begun.

A/N:

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