As the trades wrapped up, Ronan silently shifted herbs along with the wind- and thunder-element monster cores into Orin's storage ring. Small flashes of light flickered from the ring with each transfer before fading into the night air.
"I'll keep the flame and earth cores," Ronan said casually, like he was discussing something as ordinary as dinner.
Orin stared at the growing pile disappearing into his ring, then grinned. He drove his fist lightly into Ronan's shoulder. "Thanks, Ronan."
Ronan smirked without looking at him. "Mention not."
The camp around them had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Distant laughter drifted through the air. Someone was roasting meat nearby, and the smell of smoke and seasoning mixed with the cool night breeze. Metal clinked softly as people sorted equipment and supplies after the hunt.
Then—
A deep voice rose from behind them, carrying amusement so dry it almost felt dangerous.
"So, I'm the evil instructor now?"
Ronan's entire body stiffened.
Then he immediately dragged a hand down his face.
"We're dead."
Beside him, Orin visibly trembled.
Very slowly—far too slowly—he turned around.
"G-Good evening, sir."
Alaric stood behind them with his arms folded, one eyebrow raised. There wasn't even anger on his face.
That somehow made it worse.
Trying to recover, Orin folded his own arms and lifted his chin.
"No, sir, who said that? Just tell me." He pointed dramatically toward the camp. "I'll personally track them down and punish them. Severely."
Ronan stared at him.
Traitor.
Under his breath, Ronan muttered, "I swear I felt someone watching us earlier."
Orin slowly inhaled.
Then released a long, defeated breath.
"Are we going to die today?"
Before his theatrics could continue, Alaric cut him off.
"Orin. Come with me." His expression remained unreadable. "Just a few minutes."
Standing beside him was Aria, arms crossed, her face calm and blank enough to make Orin somehow even more uncomfortable.
Orin looked at Alaric.
Then Aria.
Then back to Ronan.
His shoulders sagged.
"See you later, Ronan."
The way he said it sounded less like a farewell and more like the final words of a condemned prisoner.
Ronan raised a hand weakly.
"...Survive."
Orin looked offended.
Then he followed Alaric and Aria out of the camp.
A few moments later, Gideon approached, stopping beside Ronan.
"How's your hand?"
Ronan flexed his fingers instinctively. The stiffness remained, and a dull ache crawled along the muscles under the bandages.
"Not serious." He rotated his wrist. "Next time, I'll carry more potions. Lesson learned."
Gideon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Was it necessary to hide it from us?"
Ronan scratched the back of his head.
His smile came awkwardly.
"It's not that I didn't want to tell you..." He looked away. "I just figured... if I did, you wouldn't let me join the hunt."
Silence.
Then Alden stepped forward.
He had clearly been listening.
"You really enjoy acting on your own terms, huh?"
Ronan immediately straightened.
Alden crossed his arms.
"Fine. If you want to keep hunting however you please, prove you're ready."
Ronan blinked.
"Use Void Overdrive at maximum capacity." Alden's gaze sharpened. "Then unleash three consecutive Sky Splitters."
Ronan's expression slowly shifted.
"After that..." Alden continued, "If you're still standing, you can hunt all you like."
The words hit him harder than they appeared to.
Void Overdrive at maximum...
His body immediately imagined the consequences before his mind could even process them. Torn muscles. Cracking bones. Complete exhaustion.
Right now, it would destroy him.
And Sky Splitter on top of that...
His eyes narrowed.
No...
This wasn't impossible.
It was a condition.
A wall.
Alden wasn't forbidding him from hunting.
He was telling him exactly where his current limits ended.
Master Tier.
Until then—
Benched.
Ronan slowly looked up.
Determination flickered quietly in his eyes.
"Understood, sir."
His lips curled upward.
"I'll do my best."
Before anyone could add another lecture, he immediately turned and jogged away.
Behind him, Gideon chuckled.
"You'll regret setting the bar so low."
Alden snorted.
"I know the kid's talented and hardworking, but even then..." He shook his head. "He still might not pull it off."
Gideon's smile deepened.
"You've known him for two years."
He looked toward Ronan.
"I've watched that boy grow and fight for six."
Ronan was already reaching Kael and the others.
Gideon folded his arms.
"He's about to surprise you."
"Within a few months, mark my words."
Alden followed Ronan with his eyes but said nothing.
"Darius! Kael! Garrick!"
The three looked up.
Immediately, grins spread across their faces.
"Hey, third-place champ!" Darius shouted.
Kael shook his head with a laugh.
"That was one hell of a trade."
Ronan dropped down between Kael and Darius with a satisfied sigh.
Then he looked toward Garrick.
His smile slowly shifted.
"Don't you think it's time you advanced to Master Tier?"
Garrick's face immediately twisted.
He let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"Not all of us are as lucky as Darius."
Darius scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"...I'll take that as a compliment."
Without another word, Ronan pulled out a storage ring and held it toward Garrick.
Garrick frowned.
Slowly, he took it.
The moment his senses touched the ring, his expression froze.
A faint glow reflected in widened eyes.
"Ronan..." His voice dropped. "This..."
His fingers tightened around the ring.
"I can't accept this."
Kael leaned over.
"What's inside?"
Garrick swallowed.
"Six Rank Three fire cores. Six Rank Two earth cores. Three Flameheart Buds. Three Starcrest Blossoms."
He stared at Ronan.
"All Rank Three."
Darius let out a low whistle.
Even Kael's eyes widened.
Ronan simply shrugged.
"It's not free."
Garrick blinked.
Ronan pointed at him.
"Once you power up, we're going on a monster hunt."
He grinned.
"And you're helping."
For several seconds, Garrick looked down at the ring.
Then at Ronan.
The easy smile on Ronan's face made something tighten in his chest.
No hesitation.
No expectation.
Just trust.
Garrick slowly closed his fingers around the ring.
"...Alright."
His voice grew firmer.
"I'll make it count."
Ronan's grin widened.
"That's all I ask."
It was almost midnight.
Under pale moonlight, Alaric led Aria and Orin away from the main camp toward a quiet clearing nearby.
The sounds of the camp gradually faded behind them.
No laughter.
No conversations.
Only the soft rustling of grass beneath their feet and the occasional whisper of wind through distant trees.
Silver moonlight washed over the field, bathing everything in an eerie stillness.
Orin's unease had been growing with every step.
Too quiet.
Way too quiet.
Earlier, he had convinced himself that Alaric simply wanted to scare him.
Maybe lecture him.
Maybe punish him.
But now...
Something felt wrong.
A heaviness sat in his chest.
Maybe I crossed the line this time...
His thoughts twisted endlessly.
Maybe Uncle Fenris had complained.
Maybe—
Alaric suddenly stopped.
Without speaking, he touched his storage ring.
Light shimmered.
Then—
Something fell.
A body hit the grass with a dull, wet sound.
Aira gasped sharply.
Her hands flew to her mouth as she stumbled backwards.
Orin froze.
Everything froze.
The world seemed to stop breathing.
His eyes slowly lowered.
Blood.
So much blood.
Torn clothes.
Broken limbs.
A face he knew.
His knees buckled instantly.
"Uncle... Fenris?"
His voice barely existed.
Just air and broken sound.
No.
No, no, no—
His eyes searched desperately across Fenris's still face.
Waiting.
Waiting for movement.
Waiting for breathing.
Anything.
Then he looked up at Alaric.
Confusion slowly twisted into disbelief.
"Why..." His lips trembled. "Why did you bring him here?"
His breathing grew uneven.
"Why not take him to the infirmary—"
Then he stopped.
The words died.
Because the answer had already arrived.
Living beings could not be stored inside storage rings.
The realisation cut through him.
Cold.
Sharp.
Merciless.
The tears came instantly.
A broken scream tore from his throat.
He collapsed over Fenris's body, clutching his bloodstained arm.
"What happened?!"
His voice cracked apart.
"How did this happen?!"
Alaric's voice came low.
Rough.
Heavy.
"Where did you get information about the monster?"
Orin stared blankly at Fenris.
"Uncle Fenris gave it to me..."
His voice shook violently.
"He said it was a good opportunity..."
His fingers clenched around blood-soaked fabric.
"That we'd be fine..."
Then—
Everything connected.
His eyes widened.
His breath stopped.
"Soren."
The name slipped out as a whisper.
Then suddenly—
"Soren!"
He staggered to his feet so fast that pain shot through his injured leg.
"Aunty Mira—"
His face drained of colour.
"They're in danger!"
Panic burst through him.
"We have to go back!"
He took an unsteady step forward.
"We have to go now!"
But Alaric grabbed both his shoulders.
"Let go of me!"
Orin struggled violently.
"Why are you stopping me?!"
Then—
He saw Alaric's eyes.
No anger.
No restraint.
Only sorrow.
Only grief.
Only a truth too cruel to speak.
Orin stopped moving.
His body went still.
"No..."
The word escaped as a whisper.
His head shook weakly.
"No..."
He stepped back.
"Tell me they're okay..."
His hands grabbed Alaric's arms.
Desperate.
Shaking.
"Uncle... please..."
His voice shattered.
"Tell me they're safe."
His eyes searched Alaric's face desperately.
"The clan elders..." he whispered. "They'll protect them, right?"
His breathing became uneven.
"Soren won't do anything..."
His grip tightened.
"...Right?"
Silence.
Alaric said nothing.
But his face said everything.
Orin's vision blurred.
His hands slowly slipped away.
His arms fell lifelessly to his sides.
Then his legs followed.
And under the cold moonlight, with blood soaking into the grass beneath him, Orin simply stood there—
Breaking apart.