The monster did not cross the river.
It circled the bank once, claws tearing at mud and reeds, then retreated into the treeline with a low, frustrated hiss. Its shadow vanished between the trunks, leaving only broken branches and the smell of wet earth behind.
A man in a dark blue cloak lowered his weapon.
"That's the third one this week," he said calmly.
Around him, six others adjusted formation without being told. One checked the riverbank for tracks. Another scanned the forest with a quiet, practiced gaze. None of them relaxed fully, but none of them looked afraid.
Their cloaks bore no decoration beyond a single stitched emblem near the collar. A bound circle, simple and unmistakable.
Soulbound.
A merchant caravan waited behind them on the road, wagons pulled close together. The drivers had stopped talking entirely. One of them, an older man with tired eyes, exhaled only after the monster disappeared completely.
"It won't come back," a Soulbound member said without turning. "Not tonight."
The merchant swallowed. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
That was all.
No reassurance. No bravado. Just certainty.
The caravan moved again within minutes.
Soulbound did not follow.
They stayed at the river until night settled fully, until the forest accepted the boundary it was given. Only then did the squad leader lift a hand.
"Stand down. Patrol resumes."
They moved as one.
Further north, the terrain rose into broken hills where monsters nested more freely. Soulbound banners marked the border at wide intervals, planted into stone with iron stakes. Even the monsters learned to recognize those signs. Creatures that ignored them rarely survived long enough to repeat the mistake.
At a temporary encampment carved into a rocky outcrop, reports were being gathered.
The captain accepted a slate from a kneeling member without comment. His eyes moved quickly, scanning numbers and locations.
"Faceless corpses," he said after a moment.
"Yes, Captain."
"How many."
"More than expected. Clean kills. No cores recovered."
The captain's fingers tightened slightly on the slate. "Locations?"
The member pointed to a marked map spread across the table. Several points had been circled in red ink.
"These are all within our assigned range."
Silence followed.
That was not supposed to happen.
Faceless did not die easily. Not without casualties. Not without noise. And certainly not without a trace.
The captain handed the slate back. "Notify the inner unit. This is not a coincidence."
"Yes, Captain."
Nearby, a group of hunters watched the exchange with quiet focus. Some were young, still learning to hide nerves. Others bore old scars and steady eyes. All of them paid attention.
Soulbound was not built on fear.
It was built on observation.
As the night deepened, the camp shifted subtly. Patrol routes were adjusted. Watch rotations doubled. No announcement was made, but everyone understood. Something had changed.
By dawn, word had spread through the nearby towns.
Not through proclamations or banners. Through tone.
Guards stood straighter. Gate inspections grew sharper. Merchants spoke in lowered voices. When Soulbound members passed through the streets, conversations paused and resumed only after they were gone.
"They're active," a shopkeeper muttered to his neighbor. "Must be serious."
"They always are," the neighbor replied.
At the regional hall, a tall man stood before a wall of maps.
He wore no armor. No cloak. Just a dark coat fastened neatly at the front. His hands rested behind his back as he listened.
"Multiple Tier Two kills," the captain reported. "Pattern suggests a single hunter or a coordinated group."
The man did not react immediately.
"How recent," he asked.
"Within one night."
"And no survivors."
"No, sir."
The man nodded once. That small movement carried more weight than any raised voice. The captain straightened unconsciously.
"This region does not tolerate unknown forces," the man said. "If someone is hunting here, they will be found."
"Yes, sir."
The room felt heavier after that.
Not oppressive. Focused.
The man turned back to the maps, eyes tracing the marked locations with unsettling precision.
"Do not escalate yet," he said. "Observe. Confirm. If it is a rival guild, they will make another move. If it is something else…"
He paused.
"…then it is our responsibility to stop it."
Outside the hall, a group of civilians waited with petitions and requests. A mother clutched a wrapped bundle. A farmer stood with dirt still on his boots. They watched the doors with hope that bordered on desperation.
When Soulbound existed, people believed tomorrow would come.
That belief was not cheap.
And it was not misplaced.
Far away, unseen by any of them, a young man slept soundly for the first time in days.