CHAPTER 186: SPY

Selindra let them speculate for a moment before she spoke again. "I don’t know what Lucen is. But I know this, Varik doesn’t move with anyone unless he trusts them. And Varik doesn’t trust." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Not unless there’s a reason."

The chairwoman studied her, expression unreadable. "And you want the Association to do what? Interfere?"

Selindra shook her head. "I’m not asking for interference. Yet. I’m asking for observation."

"Observation," the mustached man repeated, skeptical.

"Yes. Quiet surveillance. No direct moves. If we push too early, Varik will bury the trail. But if we watch, if we wait..." Her smile sharpened. "We’ll know."

The pale councilman steepled his fingers tighter. "And if you’re wrong?"

Selindra’s voice was steady, certain. "I’m not."

The chamber fell into silence again. Each council member sat with their thoughts, weighing risk against curiosity, power against politics. Finally, the chairwoman leaned back in her seat.

"Very well. We’ll authorize a limited observation order. Discreet. No direct contact. If Lucen proves irrelevant, this ends here. If not..." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "We’ll revisit."

Selindra inclined her head, victory measured in the curve of her lips. "Understood."

The meeting adjourned with the scrape of chairs, murmured voices, the rustle of paper. Council members filed out one by one, leaving Selindra alone in the center of the chamber.

She stood still for a long moment, letting the quiet wash over her. Then she turned, walking back toward the elevator with the same calm steps she’d entered with.

Inside, though, her mind burned with a sharper edge.

’Varik’s hiding something. And now the Association will be watching. One way or another, Lucen’s mask is going to crack.’

The elevator doors slid shut, and the hum of descent swallowed her whole.

—

The elevator carried the last of the council members upward, leaving the chamber hollow and quiet. Only one person remained.

Elira Dane, Chairwoman of the Federal Hunter Association.

The silence suited her. It was a silence of control. The kind she had cultivated for decades in these marble halls, where whispers toppled empires more effectively than armies.

She leaned back in her chair, fingertips pressing together, nails clicking softly against one another. On the table in front of her, the recording crystals dimmed, sealing away everything that had just transpired.

Selindra’s words still lingered in her mind like smoke.

Lucen. A no-name mage. A twenty-something rank. Fighting alongside Varik as an equal.

Elira’s lips curved, but it was not a smile. It was a narrowing of possibility, the faint curl of a predator scenting something beneath the brush.

She rose, the fabric of her tailored suit falling into perfect lines, and crossed to the window. Beyond the glass stretched the capital: steel towers cutting the sky, rivers of traffic glowing faintly in the night. The city was an ecosystem, and she was the apex hunter at its peak.

Varik.

Even the thought of his name carried weight. He was one of the ten, the untouchables. A man the public adored and feared in equal measure, a man too powerful for the Association to leash, too valuable to antagonize.

She despised that.

Hunters of his caliber always operated on the edge of control. The Association tolerated them because they were necessary. But necessary didn’t mean safe.

And now this.

A boy named Lucen.

Elira turned from the window, crossing back to the table where a separate console waited. She pressed her palm against it, and a screen flared to life, bathing her face in pale blue.

A web of files spread across the display, names branching from names, details collated by analysts and archivists, threads of data woven tighter than spider silk. She tapped a command. Search: Lucen.

Nothing.

Not nothing exactly. There were fragments, civilian records that didn’t line up, outdated registry entries, a single mention in a training registry three years ago. Then nothing again.

Erased? Hidden? Or simply a ghost who had walked unnoticed until now?

Her eyes narrowed. "No one walks beside Varik unnoticed."

She tapped another command. Search: Varik + associates.

That one filled the screen with too much. Varik’s life was an ocean of severed ties, temporary allies, discarded mission partners. Most lived, some didn’t, but none of them lingered. None except this Lucen, who now, apparently, shared Varik’s stride into crimson-class territory.

Selindra was right about one thing: Varik didn’t trust easily. He didn’t fight alongside anyone he couldn’t match stride for stride.

Which meant either Varik had grown reckless, unlikely, or Lucen was more than the numbers claimed.

Elira pressed her fingertips against her lips, tapping lightly. A habit she indulged only when alone.

The Association’s records were built on the foundation that the system did not lie. Levels, ranks, classes, all measured, catalogued, verified. A twenty-eight meant twenty-eight. It was the bedrock of hunter politics.

If Lucen broke that foundation...

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose. If he breaks it, then he is either the greatest asset or the greatest threat we’ve seen in years.

And Varik knew. That thought carried more weight than all the rest.

She tapped the console again. "Authorization code: Dane, nine, twelve."

The system chimed. Clearance accepted.

"Create file. Code designation: Specter. Subject: Lucen."

The file opened, blank. She began dictating.

"Male. Approximate age: early twenties. Mage class. Publicly recorded level: twenty-eight. No significant civilian records. Encountered in crimson-class dungeon breach alongside Hunter Varik, SS-rank. Witness Selindra reported combat capability inconsistent with level. Preliminary hypothesis: concealed strength, anomalous system readings, or external augmentation."

She paused, letting the words settle. Then added:

"Order: Level One observation. Discreet. Do not engage directly. Assign covert surveillance to Division Black. Monitor proximity to Varik. Priority escalation if anomalous readings confirmed."

The console chimed again, locking the order into place.

Elira sat back in her chair, studying the glow of the file header. Specter.

A quiet laugh escaped her. Soft, humorless. "Let’s see what you are, boy."

—

An hour later, she stood in the shadowed halls of the upper levels. These corridors were different from the public ones below. No marble, no grand lights. Here the walls were steel, the air colder, the hum of power lines sharp against the ears.

She waited by a sealed door until it hissed open.

Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the glow of crystalline monitors. Figures sat at the consoles, their faces obscured by masks, Division Black. Hunters who no longer held names, only numbers, their lives dedicated to shadows.

The lead operative rose as she entered, bowing his head. His mask was smooth, featureless. His voice, distorted, carried no accent.

"Designation received. Target?"

Elira’s heels clicked once against the floor. "Codename Specter. Associate of Hunter Varik."

A pause. Even the masked operatives knew better than to treat Varik lightly.

"Parameters?"

"Observation only," Elira said. "No interference. No contact. I want proximity, patterns, anomalies. If he breathes too deeply, I want to know."

The lead operative inclined his head. "Understood."

She stepped closer, her gaze sweeping the monitors filled with cascading data streams. "Do not underestimate him. If Selindra is correct, this Lucen defies the system itself. If that’s true, then even your shadows won’t be safe if you treat him like a twenty-eight."

The operative tilted his head. "And if he is nothing?"

Elira’s lips curved faintly. "Then we erase the file. Quietly. And Varik remains unchallenged."

She turned then, walking back toward the door, her voice low enough to almost be missed.

"But if he is something... then we decide whether to crown him or cut him down."

The door hissed shut behind her.

—

Back in her office, night had fallen over the capital. The skyline burned with lights, neon veins through black towers.

Elira poured herself a glass of wine, dark red, almost black, and stood at the window once more.

The public thought the Association existed to protect them from monsters. That was true. But monsters weren’t always in dungeons. Sometimes they wore faces, walked the streets, smiled with teeth. Sometimes they were men like Varik. Or boys like Lucen.

The world needed hunters. But hunters needed leashes.

And if the leash didn’t fit, sometimes the beast had to be put down.

Elira lifted the glass, the city reflected in its surface like a jewel.

"To you, Specter," she murmured. "Let’s see if you survive my game."

She drank, the taste sharp and bitter on her tongue, and watched the city below as if the boy himself might emerge from its veins at any moment.

—

The bunker corridors were quiet. Too quiet.

Varik had lived long enough around silence to know its flavors. There was silence born of stillness, sleeping halls, empty streets. And then there was silence like this: layered, intentional, strained at the edges by something pressing against it.

He leaned against the railing outside the training chamber, arms folded across his chest, watching Lucen run drills with a casual intensity that didn’t match his supposed level. Mana coiled around the younger man’s palm, snapping to shape faster each time, sharper arcs, cleaner strikes.

"Too much output," Varik said.

Lucen flicked a look at him, sweat dampening his collar. "You’re seriously critiquing me for wasting a fraction of a fraction?"

"You want control, not fireworks," Varik replied, voice steady.