CHAPTER 45: CHAPTER 45: FROM HUNT TO HOSTILITY

Rael’s fight with the Ironhide Fangboar didn’t mark the end.

They crossed paths with more of them before leaving the territory, and each time Arden let him take the lead. The more they fought, the more Rael’s movements sharpened. By the time the last tusked beast fell, he barely broke a sweat.

Not long after, Arden’s gaze flicked to the edge of the trail. "Another one for you," he said.

Rael turned to see a pair of glowing amber eyes watching from the shadows. The sleek, black shape stepped forward soundlessly, its fur drinking in the light.

Gloomstalker Lynx. C-Rank.

It vanished.

"Eyes up," Arden called just as the beast reappeared at Rael’s flank. Rael spun, a pulse of lightning flaring around him as claws slashed through where he’d been.

The lynx didn’t roar or snarl. It moved with quiet precision, disappearing into a veil of mist before striking again.

A wind blade hissed past Rael’s face, close enough to sting his skin. He ducked low and sent an ice spike into the fog, forcing the beast to leap aside.

They traded blows, its pounce against his reinforced bursts of speed, its claws against his lightning-coated strikes. A sudden gust pushed him off balance, but he slammed his foot down, freezing the ground beneath them and locking its paws for a heartbeat. That was all he needed. His next strike landed square on its side, sending a sharp crack through the air.

The lynx staggered and collapsed, fading back into shadow as it stilled.

"Better," Arden said as Rael returned. "You’re not chasing the fight anymore. You’re making it chase you."

Zephyra padded past him, sniffed the air, and moved on without a sound.

The journey stayed easy for a while. So easy, in fact, that even Nyra hadn’t lifted a finger.

That changed when Arden slowed and gave her a look.

"Found one for you," he said, his mouth curling into a knowing smile.

Nyra grinned. "Finally."

They followed him through a ravine until the sound of shifting stone and faint crackles of electricity filled the air.

The creature that emerged was massive—serpentine, its jagged scales like slabs of rock, arcs of golden lightning crawling along its spine.

Stormfang Basilisk.

It slid forward, eyes glowing. Nyra’s legs felt heavy for a moment before she forced her will through it, stepping ahead.

The basilisk struck first, slamming into the ground and sending a quake rippling toward her. She leapt clear, Cryowind Shift carrying her in a blur of frost-edged wind.

Its tail lashed, wrapped around her mid-spin, and lightning surged through her body.

She bit down a cry, sending a burst of ice shards outward to break free. The air dropped in temperature as she spun, calling up a Glacial Cyclone Veil to block a hail of rocks kicked up by the beast’s Quake Burst.

It didn’t slow. The serpent’s glare locked on her again, muscles stiffening, but she forced movement through sheer will, unleashing Frostfang Gale Blades in a wide arc. The icy projectiles cut across its scales, leaving jagged scars.

The basilisk roared and lunged, but Nyra was already moving. A sudden shift in her stance told Arden she’d found her opening. She pulled the cold and wind together, crafting a spiral of frozen air—the Boreal Tempest Ward—around herself, then pushed it outward in a tight burst. The compressed storm struck the basilisk’s head, freezing part of its crown before shattering it in an explosion of shards.

It writhed, coils smashing the ground in desperation, but Nyra didn’t give it space. She dashed in, driving a final gust-laced strike deep into the wound, and the beast fell still.

Her breathing was heavy, but her eyes burned with the thrill of victory.

Arden nodded once. "Not bad. You’ve stopped fighting like the old Nyra."

She smirked, brushing frost from her shoulder. "And here I thought you liked the old one."

She teased.

The road to Greyhold stretched ahead, and the group moved with an easy pace, trading small jokes that broke the quiet between them. They’d taken the longer route, but the days spent hunting had been worth it.

Every fight had sharpened their instincts and proved they were ready for the road ahead.

It wasn’t until the trees thinned that the mood began to shift. Arden slowed, eyes narrowing at the scraps of paper nailed to bark and fence posts. Posters. Dozens of them. The kind that stank of propaganda.

Rael’s face was on one. Nyra’s too. The words beneath were as vile as they were false, branding dual affinity users as dangerous, offering coin to anyone who could bring them in alive.

Rael’s hand tightened around his staff. "They’re making it too easy for cowards to play hero."

Arden didn’t look away from the posters. "That’s the point. Stir fear, push you out, then act like they’re doing the world a favor."

Zephyra gave a low growl, her voice rough and edged. "Humans be strange. They fear what could protect them."

Arden kept walking, though his jaw was set. "They don’t want protection. They want control."

The closer they drew to Greyhold, the more people they passed. The stares were obvious, cold, lingering, heavy with judgement. No one dared to step in their way, but Arden caught the muttered curses and the quick spits to the ground.

Greyhold’s gates offered no better welcome.

The city was loud, but the noise wasn’t for them. It was the sound of insults tossed their way, words dripping with disgust. Some faces Arden recognized from the posters, the anger in their eyes fed by lies spread by the same hands pulling the strings behind all this.

Nyra walked stiffly, her head high despite the whispers. Arden didn’t break stride. "Let them talk. Words don’t hit as hard as a blade."

They cut through the streets without looking back, their steps set for the mercenary guild.

Arden had been here before, he knew the way and didn’t waste time reacting to every glare. If the city wanted a show, they wouldn’t get it.

A/N:

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