Laia wiped dark, viscous abyssal blood off the blade of her hunting knife and hefted a bulging leather sack of crystallized blood essence over one shoulder, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She'd gotten thoroughly turned around on her way back to the garrison—her sense of direction had always been dreadful, and the swirling purple mist did nothing to help—and had stumbled straight into the shadowfang worgs' main breeding den by pure, unplanned luck.
The handful of worg guards left to protect the den had barely put up a fight. One clean shot each, and they'd crumpled before they could even sound the alarm.
She'd known blood essence was valuable the second she'd seen the glowing crimson crystals stacked in the back cavern. Deep abyssal clans hoarded the stuff for generations, feeding it to their young to boost their strength and potential. The garrison merit exchange paid a premium for high-grade blood essence—easily a hundred merits a crystal, maybe more. This sack alone was worth more than an entire day of hunting regular spawn.
She slung the sack tighter, glancing north through the mist. The viper matriarch's main nest was supposed to be up that way, if the crumpled garrison map she'd stuffed in her pocket was to be trusted. She was already lost. Might as well make the detour worth it.
Twenty minutes later, she was stepping over the bodies of half a dozen stunned viper guards, staring at a treasure trove of shed ashscale hides, concentrated venom sacs, and another, even larger cache of blood essence tucked in the back of the cave.
"Worth getting lost for," she muttered to herself, shoveling everything into a second sack. She did a quick mental tally of her merit count, and her smile widened. At this rate, she'd hit fifty thousand before the month was out. Maybe she should get lost more often.
Three miles deeper in the core abyssal zone, Rorgoth the shadowfang worg and Veyra the ashscale viper matriarch walked with their heads bowed behind a strutting young black-furred tiger cub named Kael, their jaws tight with suppressed fury.
Kael was barely Second Tier. On any normal day, either of them could have snapped him in half with one bite. But he was the only son of Gromm the Iron-Mawed, the Fifth Tier black tiger king who ruled the entire western abyssal gorge. That made him untouchable.
"Father controls all three valleys in the western reach," Kael said, flicking his tail high in the air, smug as a prince. "No clan survives out here without his protection. You two are lucky he's even willing to hear you out."
Rorgoth's hackles twitched, but he forced his voice low and respectful. "Of course. We are deeply grateful for Lord Gromm's generosity."
Veyra's scales rippled with quiet irritation, but she kept her head bowed. It stung, groveling to a cub barely out of his kittle. But what choice did they have? That human huntress was carving through their clans like they were target practice. If the tiger king didn't step in, they'd both be extinct before the next moon turned. She glanced back over her shoulder, toward the northern ridges where their dens lay, and huffed a quiet, confident breath. They'd lured the huntress miles south, after all. There was zero chance she'd wander all the way back north to their core nests. Even if she wasn't exhausted from two straight days of hunting, no one was that stupidly lost. Their homes were safe. This would be worth it.
They stepped through the mouth of the great central cavern, and the heavy, suffocating pressure of a Fifth Tier beast's aura washed over them. Gromm lay sprawled across a throne of jagged black stone at the far end of the cave, his pelt crisscrossed with old battle scars, his eyes like smoldering coals. He was massive—bigger than a fully grown war elephant, his paws the size of millstones.
Kael trotted ahead, chest puffed out. "Father! These two came begging for help. Some random Fourth Tier god is picking off their clans. They're offering half their blood essence stores and half their territory in exchange for your protection."
Gromm rumbled a low, lazy growl, his gaze sliding over the two clan leaders with bored disdain. "Fourth Tier? You two can't handle one measly Fourth Tier god? Pathetic."
Veyra's jaw tightened, but she spoke before Rorgoth could snap and get them both killed. "She is… unusual, my lord. She bears strong Abyss Resistance. Our mother venom had no effect on her realm. Our wraiths could not sway her subjects. She does not tire. She does not falter. We cannot fight her on our own."
Gromm had just opened his mouth to reply when a frantic, scaly viper scout came slithering into the cavern at full speed, his body trembling so hard he could barely hold himself upright.
"Matriarch! Worg Chief!" he yelped, voice cracking. "The northern dens! Both of them! A lone human hunter broke in! Killed all the guards! Stole every last drop of the blood essence stores! The whole breeding cave is empty!"
Silence.
Rorgoth froze mid-breath, his ears flattened flat against his skull. Veyra went completely still, her hood flaring in stunned, disbelieving rage. North. Their dens. The ones they'd been certain were perfectly safe, twenty miles away from where they'd lured the huntress.
How?
Kael blinked, confused. "Wait—you said she was in the southern ravine."
Rorgoth's mind reeled. She'd gotten lost. That was the only explanation. She'd gotten turned around in the mist, and somehow, by some cruel, cosmic joke, she'd wandered straight to their most valuable, most well-hidden nests.
Gromm's low, rumbling laugh echoed off the cavern walls, deep and amused. "Well," he said, pushing himself up onto his massive paws, his claws scraping deep gouges into the stone floor. "This Fourth Tier huntress of yours is more interesting than I thought. Sneaking into core territory, raiding two dens right under your noses. Bold. Stupid, but bold."
He stepped down from his stone throne, and the whole cavern seemed to shake under his weight. "I'll handle her myself. A Fourth Tier god with Abyss Resistance and a realm strong enough to shrug off mother venom? Her divine core will make a fine meal. And her realm? It'll make a nice addition to my territory."
Rorgoth and Veyra exchanged a quick, bitter look. They'd lost half their blood essence and half their territory just to call him in. Now he was going to claim the whole prize for himself. But there was nothing they could do. They bowed their heads, teeth gritted, and said nothing.
Back out in the misty outer ravine, Laia slung two heavy, bulging sacks of loot over her shoulders and finally oriented herself toward the distant glow of the garrison perimeter wards, humming an off-key tune under her breath.
She had no idea two entire abyssal clans had just sworn vengeance on her. She had no idea a Fifth Tier tiger king was now planning to hunt her down for her divine core. She had no idea her terrible sense of direction had just dealt a worse blow to her enemies than any planned attack ever could have.
All she knew was that her merit count had jumped by thousands that afternoon, and she was one big step closer to that Box of Avarice. And also, she thought, as she spotted the garrison gate through the mist, that she was absolutely starving. The mess hall should still be serving dinner. If she hurried, she might beat Tobias to the chicken wings.
She picked up her pace, already mentally planning her next trip deeper into the gorge. The deeper she went, the better the loot. What was the worst that could happen?