The extermination board dominated one entire wall of the Horus Protector Guild.
Adlet stood before it in silence, eyes moving slowly from one notice to the next. The parchment sheets were thick, reinforced at the edges, each bearing the seal of a local guild and the mark of authorization for Master Protectors only.
Names leapt out at him.
Rank 3 Apex — Sand-Reaver Iguana — outskirts of Kharum.
Rank 4 Apex — Ashstorm Vulture — southern dunes beyond Tal-Resh.
Rank 3 Apex — Ironhide Crocodile — Vhal River, near Ashen.
Rank 4 Apex — Carnage Rhinoceros — inland routes, Ashen territory.
Each mission carried a location, a threat assessment, and a brief note on civilian casualties or economic damage. Some mentioned lost caravans. Others, injured villagers. A few bore darker phrasing—no survivors reported.
Adlet exhaled slowly.
So this is how it begins.
This wasn't like his previous missions. Here, danger wasn't hidden. It was catalogued. Tracked. Waiting for someone strong enough to answer.
He shifted his weight, arms crossed, reading and rereading the notices. The Horus Desert was still a mystery to him—vast, hostile, and layered with threats he hadn't yet learned to measure.
After a long moment, he shook his head lightly.
"I don't know the region anyway," he muttered under his breath. "So it doesn't really matter."
His eyes settled on two notices pinned close together.
Ironhide Crocodile — Rank 3 Apex.
Carnage Rhinoceros — Rank 4 Apex.
Both listed under the same territory.
Ashen.
"That'll do," he decided. "You don't learn by standing still."
He pulled both notices from the board and turned toward the front desk.
The reception area was busy but orderly—Protectors registering missions, reporting kills, exchanging information. A woman in guild colors looked up as Adlet approached, her gaze briefly flicking to the bronze insignia at his chest.
"Yes?" she asked, professional.
"I wanted to ask," Adlet said, placing the two notices on the counter. "Am I allowed to take multiple extermination missions at once?"
She glanced at the papers, then back at him.
"Of course," she replied without hesitation. "Missions aren't exclusive. Anyone qualified may accept them at any time."
Adlet nodded. "Good."
He slid both notices forward. "I'll take these."
The woman scanned them, then raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Ashen territory," she noted. "You're new to the region?"
"Yes."
She turned and pointed to a large map carved into the stone wall behind the counter.
"To reach Ashen, leave Eresh through the western gate," she explained. "You'll reach the Vhal River shortly after. Cross it, then follow the riverbank to the right. Ashen will be the fifth city you encounter along the river."
"Understood," Adlet said. "And once I'm there—how do I locate the Apexes?"
"You'll need to report to the local Protector Guild," she replied. "They're the ones tracking these threats. They don't have a Master Protector stationed there capable of handling them, which is why the missions were escalated."
She paused, then added, more seriously, "If you succeed, you'll need to bring back proof of extermination."
Adlet inclined his head. "I will."
With that, he turned and left the guild.
Eresh fell behind him quickly.
The sandstone walls that protected the city rose high and thick, layered with age and reinforced by countless repairs. Beyond them, the desert stretched outward—harsh, vast, and alive with unseen danger.
The Vhal River lay not far from the city. Wide—nearly a hundred meters across—and steady, its waters cut a dark line through the arid land. A massive wooden bridge spanned it, thick beams anchored deep into stone supports, built to withstand both floods and the weight of caravans.
Adlet crossed without stopping.
On the far side, the desert truly began.
The land was dry, but not dead. Sparse vegetation clung stubbornly to life—low shrubs, twisted grasses, patches of hardened soil cracked by heat. The air carried a faint dryness that coated the throat, the kind that reminded you constantly of your limits.
He moved steadily, covering distance at a pace few ordinary travelers could maintain.
Days passed.
Villages appeared along the river—each one protected by walls of stone or compacted earth, watchtowers rising above them. People lived here not despite the danger, but alongside it. Adlet caught glimpses of Apexes in the distance—massive shapes moving far beyond the safety of the settlements.
It struck him then.
Here, danger wasn't an exception.
It was the environment.
By the time Ashen came into view, the vault overhead had shifted through several cycles of light and dimness.
The city was modest compared to Eresh, but sturdy. Its walls bore scars—deep gouges, patched sections, reinforced gates. Life here had been hard-earned.
Adlet headed straight for the Protector Guild.
Inside, the atmosphere was tense but functional. The man who greeted him—a guild official in his early thirties—paused when Adlet presented his bronze insignia.
"A Master Protector?" he asked, clearly surprised.
"Yes."
The man studied him for a moment longer than polite, then nodded.
"…Very well. What brings you here?"
"I'm here for the Ironhide Crocodile and the Carnage Rhinoceros."
That earned him a sharper look.
"You're taking both?"
"Yes."
The official hesitated, then sighed quietly. "The crocodile has been sighted in the Vhal River—ambushing villagers who approach the banks. As for the rhinoceros… it destroyed a merchant caravan inland a few days ago. No survivors."
"I'll handle them," Adlet said calmly.
The man swallowed. "Then… good luck. And remember—we'll need proof."
Adlet nodded once and turned toward the river.
The Vhal flowed calmly.
Too calmly.
Adlet crouched near the bank, eyes scanning the water's surface. The river was deep here, its murky depths concealing whatever moved beneath. He could feel it—a predator waiting.
He picked up a large stone and hurled it into the river.
The splash echoed.
Nothing.
He waited.
Then the water exploded.
A massive form surged upward, jaws snapping shut where Adlet had been moments before. He leapt back as the creature emerged fully from the river.
Eight meters of muscle and scale.
The Ironhide Crocodile.
Its skin was thick and dark, layered like overlapping plates of iron. Water cascaded off its body as it roared, teeth gleaming, eyes fixed on him with primal focus.
Adlet's aura flared.
Black energy wrapped around his arm as he materialized the horn—dense, imposing, lethal.
The crocodile lunged.
Adlet met it head-on.
He drove the horn forward, striking the beast's skull with enough force to crack stone—but the impact barely staggered it. The iron-like hide absorbed the blow, forcing Adlet to pivot away as the massive tail swept through the space he'd occupied.
So it really is tough.
He adjusted instantly—no wasted motion. He struck again, targeting joints, softer segments between the plates. The crocodile reacted sluggishly, powerful but slow, relying on brute force rather than precision.
Adlet danced around it.
Each strike rang like metal on metal, but cracks began to form. The horn dug deeper with each blow, his aura reinforcing every movement.
The crocodile snapped wildly, but it couldn't keep up.
Finally, Adlet vaulted onto its back.
He drove the horn downward with everything he had.
The ironhide shattered.
The beast collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Adlet exhaled, aura fading.
He returned to Ashen carrying the crocodile's body over one shoulder.
The reaction was immediate.
People stared. Whispers spread. The guild official hurried out to meet him, eyes wide as Adlet dropped the massive corpse at his feet.
"That's… more than enough proof," the man said hoarsely.
"I'm heading out again," Adlet replied. "Next is the rhinoceros."
He turned without waiting for a response.
The desert awaited.
And this was only the beginning.