They traveled deeper into the swirling purple mist, past the weathered stone markers that divided the outer hunting grounds from the fringes of the abyssal middle ring. The air grew thick with the heavy, coppery tang of powerful beasts. Rorgoth the shadowfang worg kept his hackles raised, his ears flattened against his skull; every aura he picked up through the mist was at least Third Tier, and more than a few hummed with the sharp, crushing weight of Fourth Tier strength. These were beasts that did not wander into the outer zones. These were the ones that ruled their own patches of territory, and answered to no one but the ring's stronger overlords.
Veyra the ashscale viper matriarch kept her hood held low, tense and quiet. She had never stepped foot past the outer border before. No Third Tier clan dared, not unless they were looking to get eaten by something higher up the food chain.
Kael, the young black tiger cub, trotted ahead of them with his tail held high, puffed up like he owned the whole gorge. "Told you my father runs all this stretch," he said over his shoulder, smug as a prince. "Once I put in a good word for you two, he'll handle that pesky huntress before the sun sets. You'll be begging to serve under me by the end of it."
Rorgoth and Veyra exchanged a tight, bitter look, but said nothing. They needed his father. They'd swallow as much pride as it took.
The mouth of a great cavern loomed ahead of them, carved into the side of a jagged black cliff. Kael squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and yelled at the top of his lungs: "Dad! Open up! Your son's back!"
The ground shook. A massive black tiger stepped out of the shadow of the cave mouth, his pelt crisscrossed with old white scars, his eyes like smoldering embers. The weight of his Fifth Tier aura rolled over them like a landslide. Rorgoth's legs wobbled. Veyra had to bite down on her tongue to keep from rearing back in panic.
Garrick the Iron-Mawed looked down at his son, lifted one massive paw, and swatted him flat into the dirt.
"You little runt," he roared, his voice rattling loose stones off the cliff face. "You think I didn't hear you snuck off to the outer zones to chase that fox clan girl? Took half my scout pack with you, wasted three weeks fooling around, and you still haven't broken past Second Tier! You're a disgrace!"
Kael yelped, squirming under his father's paw. "Dad! Dad, stop! There are guests! Give me some dignity!" "Dignity?" Garrick huffed, lifting his paw just enough to let the cub scramble to his feet. "You don't have dignity. If I didn't only have the one useless whelp, I'd take another mate and start over. You'd be out on your ear."
Kael rubbed the bump on his head, looking suitably chastened. Garrick stared at him for another long, grumbly second, then sighed, heavy and long-suffering. The cub was an idiot, but he was all he had. "Fine. Spit it out. Why'd you drag yourself back here? Finally run out of prey to bully out in the sticks?"
Kael perked up immediately, puffing out his chest again. "There's a Fourth Tier god invading the outer zones, Dad. Real brute. I fought him for three hundred rounds straight, gave him more than a few good scars, but the tier gap was too big. I came back to get you so we can take him down together."
Garrick blinked slowly. He did not believe a single word of that. His son couldn't beat a Third Tier scavenger beast without cheating. "Uh-huh," he said, dry as dust. "Describe him."
Kael froze. He darted a panicky glance at Rorgoth and Veyra behind him. The two clan leaders made frantic, exaggerated gestures with their eyes and claws: tall. Human. Rifle. Tough. Kael turned back to his father after a grand total of three seconds of silent consultation, and puffed himself up even bigger. "Eight feet tall, easy. Broad as a barn. Wears full golden plate armor, wields a greatsword so big it takes two hands to lift. When he walks the ground shakes. When he roars the birds fall out of the sky. Solid muscle, top to bottom. One of the strongest Fourth Tiers I've ever seen."
Rorgoth and Veyra both stared straight ahead, their faces perfectly blank. It was the most ridiculous lie they'd ever heard. If a god like that had wandered into the outer zones, their clans would have been crushed in an hour, not picked off one hunting pack at a time.
Garrick just snorted, turning to pad back toward the cave mouth. "Nice story, runt. Fine. I'll come take a look. If this golden giant of yours is just some random Third Tier hunter you got your tail kicked by, you're on stable duty for a month. Lead the way."
Rorgoth's tail tucked between his legs. This was not going well. But what could they do? They fell in line behind the tiger king and his son, and headed back toward the outer zones.
Kael chattered the whole way, bragging about how Rorgoth and Veyra were his new loyal underlings, how they'd run the outer zones together once the huntress was dealt with. Garrick just grunted, barely listening. "Decent enough," he said, glancing at the two clan leaders out of the corner of his eye. "Watch his back when you're out there, and there'll be a place for you two under my protection. Don't let him get himself killed, and you'll be rewarded."
Rorgoth and Veyra nodded so fast their necks ached. "Of course, my lord," Rorgoth said, forcing a deferential smile. "If you'd follow me, my clan's main den is just over this ridge. I have a small gift of blood essence to offer you, as a token of our loyalty."
He was already mentally wincing at the cost, but it would be worth it to have the tiger king's backing. He crested the ridge, turned toward the cave mouth—and froze.
The entrance was blown wide open. Scorch marks and bullet holes scored the stone walls. The cave was silent. Rorgoth stumbled forward, shoving aside a pile of fallen rock to get to the inner storage chamber. It was empty. Every last crystal of blood essence. Every scrap of stored meat. Every pelt and relic. Gone. Not even a single shard was left behind.
He sank down onto his haunches, a low, broken whimper rising in his throat. "No," he whispered. "No, that's three hundred years. Three hundred years of stockpiles. She took all of it."
Veyra glided over to pat his shoulder with the tip of her tail, her tone condescending but gentle. "There, there. It's only material wealth. At least most of your pack made it out alive. You can always build up your stores again. Things could be worse."
She turned back to Garrick, her head held high, putting on her most gracious, diplomatic tone. "My lord, if you would accompany me to my clan's nesting cavern a short ways west? We cultivate a number of rare abyssal herbs there, prized for vitality and healing. They would make a fine gift, and a far more useful offering than simple blood essence."
She was already preening a little inside. Her stores were better hidden, deeper in the cave. The huntress wouldn't have found them. She'd come out of this looking far more competent than the sniveling worg.
Ten minutes later, she stared at her nesting cavern, and her entire body went rigid as a carved stone statue.
The whole cave had been dug out. The herb beds were torn up by the roots, every last sprig harvested. The egg chamber was completely empty, not a single shell left behind. Even the top layer of rich dark soil had been scraped clean off the stone floor, like someone had come through with a shovel and decided to take the whole damn garden with them.
Veyra collapsed in a heap, her hood flopping limply over her head. A quiet, trembling wail rose from her throat. "She took the dirt," she whispered, horrified. "The wolf at least got to keep his cave. She took my soil. She stole my eggs. There's nothing left."
Rorgoth patted her on the back this time. He didn't even say anything. There was nothing to say.
Garrick stood at the mouth of the cave, his brow furrowed, his earlier amusement gone. This wasn't just a random hunter out for merit points. No ordinary Fourth Tier god moved this quietly, cleaned out two entire clan dens without leaving a trace, and shrugged off abyssal venom like it was rain. This was someone dangerous. Someone prepared. He'd have to take this more seriously than he'd thought. And he'd have to pour more resources into Kael's training, too. If this huntress stuck around, his useless son wouldn't stand a chance if he ran into her alone.
Kael stood off to the side, his shoulders slumped, staring at the two empty dens. Wait, he thought. I got smacked around by my dad for nothing? I came all this way, and there's no loot, no victory, just two empty caves and a huntress who's already gone? This was the worst day of his life.
Half a mile away, Laia hiked back toward the garrison with two bulging sacks slung over her shoulders, humming an off-key tavern tune she'd heard once in the market. She'd done the math twice now. Between the beast carcasses, the blood essence, the venom sacs, the rare herbs, and the handful of intact abyssal beast eggs she'd grabbed on a whim, she was looking at nearly three thousand merits for a single day's work. At this pace, she'd hit fifty thousand before the month was out. She might even have extra left over to splurge on a few nice things.
The garrison gates came into view through the mist, and her steps picked up. The dinner rush would be starting soon. If she hurried, she could beat Tobias to the roasted pork station. She'd lost the wing contest the day before. Today, she was going to win.
She had no idea she'd just stripped two entire clans down to the bare stone. She had no idea a Fifth Tier tiger king was now planning to hunt her down. She had no idea she'd accidentally sparked a whole new chain of chaos in the western abyssal gorge.
All she knew was that she was hungry, and the pork was probably still warm. She adjusted her sacks, grinned, and broke into a light jog.