Half an hour dragged by in the thick, billowing smoke, and Garrick the Iron-Mawed was still darting left and right, his paws light on the stone, his senses stretched to their limit. The sharp crack of rifle shots rang out every few seconds from different angles, each one humming with that strange, soul-piercing energy that made his fur stand on end. He dodged each one by a hair's breadth, his respect for this Fourth Tier huntress growing by the minute.
Kael was wheezing so hard he could barely breathe, his legs wobbling. "Dad—are we sure she's still in here? It feels like we're just jumping around for nothing."
"Quiet," Garrick snapped, never slowing his pace. "Proud gods love their little games of honor. She's testing us, waiting for us to drop our guard. Keep moving. The smoke will clear soon enough."
Rorgoth and Veyra kept low, darting from rock to rock, their nerves frayed thin. The shots were coming slower now, almost lazy. Something felt off, but they dared not say so out loud, not with the tiger king already on edge.
Then the last wisp of purple smoke drifted away on the abyssal wind.
The gorge was empty.
No huntress. No golden armor. No greatsword. Just three clunky, rune-carved automated turrets propped up on stone cairns, their barrels swiveling sluggishly, firing off the last of their stored ammunition on a pre-set timer.
Silence.
Kael froze mid-crouch, his mouth hanging open. Rorgoth's jaw went slack. Veyra went completely rigid, her hood flopping limply over her face.
Garrick stared at the turrets. Then he stared at the empty gorge. Then he stared at the turrets again.
The full weight of what had happened settled over him like a cold, heavy blanket. He hadn't been fighting a skilled duelist testing his mettle. He'd been dancing around a set of cheap mechanical toys for half an hour. She'd run the second the smoke had gone up.
A low, rumbling snarl built in his chest, so deep it shook the loose pebbles on the ground. He'd been played. Played by a Fourth Tier god who'd never even intended to fight him head-on.
"That little sneak," he growled, his claws digging deep furrows into the stone. "No honor. No dignity. She ran."
Kael shrank back a little, wisely keeping his mouth shut. He'd been bragging for days about how his father would crush the huntress in three moves. Now they'd all been made fools of.
Rorgoth whimpered quietly, his ears flattened. Not only were their dens wiped clean, but the tiger king they'd sacrificed half their territory to hire had just been outwitted by a girl with smoke bombs and a few toy turrets. This was the worst day of his entire life.
Half a mile east, Laia practically sprinted through the garrison perimeter gates, her boots kicking up red dust, and only slowed down once the ward walls were safely between her and the gorge. She leaned against the stone wall, gasping for breath, and grinned.
Fifth tier my ass, she thought. Anyone dumb enough to stand around jumping in smoke for half an hour deserved to get their den raided.
She hefted her two sacks of loot over her shoulder and headed straight for the administration hall. The receptionist looked up with her usual polite smile, then her eyes went wide as Laia dumped out pile after pile of abyssal carcasses, blood essence crystals, venom sacs, and bundled rare herbs onto the counter.
"Is… all of this from one trip?" she said, leaning forward to stare. "Yep," Laia said, leaning against the counter. "Outer west gorge. Got a little turned around. Figured I might as well make it count."
The receptionist ran the tally twice, her eyebrows climbing higher with every number she punched in. When she was done, she slid the updated merit slip across the counter. "Two thousand three hundred and seventy merits added, ma'am. Your current balance is three thousand one hundred and twelve."
Laia nodded, but her smile faded a little when she glanced up at the exchange board. Fifty thousand was still so far away. And now there was a cranky Fifth Tier tiger king patrolling the best hunting grounds in the west gorge. She couldn't just keep going back there, not if she wanted to keep breathing.
She flipped through the printed equipment catalog sitting on the counter, stopping at the heavy crossbow section. A rune-forged heavy crossbow with armor-piercing bolts included—two thousand two hundred merits. She sucked in a sharp breath. Highway robbery. She wasn't spending two thirds of her current savings on a fancy crossbow. Not when she could build something just as good herself for a fraction of the price.
For half a second she considered just switching hunting zones. It would be safer. Easier. Then she thought of that smug tiger cub, of the tiger king's arrogant offer to let her run five hundred meters, of all the easy merit points sitting in that middle-ring den just waiting to be harvested. No one got between her and her merit points. No one.
She slammed the catalog shut, and pushed two thousand merits across the counter to the confused receptionist. "Two crates of high-grade explosive powder, a bundle of steel bolts, ten blank rune cores, and a jar of concentrated abyssal venom extract," she said, firm. "Standard issue."
The receptionist blinked, but rang her up without question. A minute later, Laia was hauling a crate of supplies back to her villa, her jaw set with determined fury. Fine. If he wanted to play dirty and block her hunting grounds, she'd play dirtier. She'd sneak around to his middle-ring den while he was out patrolling the outer zones. She'd strip every last crystal, every herb, every stored pelt out of the place. She'd take the floor tiles if they were worth anything. He'd regret ever stepping foot in her gorge.
She set up a rickety workbench on the back porch of her villa, and got to work. She'd picked up more than enough rune-carving basics from the dwarven smiths in her realm over the years to modify simple bolts and traps. She packed explosive powder into the bolt heads, laced them with diluted abyssal venom, and carved simple impact runes into the casings. She upgraded her land mines with proximity triggers tuned specifically to abyssal beast auras. By the time the sun dipped low over the badlands, she had a full satchel of modified bolts, a dozen improved mines, and a very specific plan.
Her stomach growled loud enough to echo off the villa walls, and she packed her tools away. The mess hall would be serving dinner soon, and she wasn't about to miss braised pork night because of a grumpy tiger.
She slid into the mess hall five minutes later, tray in hand, and found Tobias already camped out at their usual table, a mountain of pork ribs on his plate. He looked up and waved, his mouth full. "Heard the west gorge is closed off," he said, once he'd swallowed. "Sergeants were talking about a Fifth Tier beast moving in closer to the outer line. You been out there?"
"Passed through earlier," Laia said, piling her own tray high with pork and roasted root vegetables. "No big deal." Tobias stared at her for a second, then shrugged and went back to his ribs. He'd learned not to ask too many questions. If she said it was no big deal, it was no big deal.
They ate in comfortable silence, racing each other to the bottom of their trays, just like every other night. Neither of them mentioned family names, or titles, or why a merchant prince's heir and a scholarship student were both hiding out in a border garrison eating unlimited pork ribs. Some things were better left unsaid.
Deep in the middle ring, Garrick paced back and forth in front of his den, his rage still simmering. He'd sent every scout he had out to comb the outer gorges, to track down that sneaky little huntress and drag her back to him. "Find her," he snarled at Rorgoth, who was cowering at the mouth of the cave. "I don't care how long it takes. Find her, and bring her to me alive. I want to know what she did with our stores."
He never once considered that she might not be hiding in the outer gorges at all. He never once considered that she might be planning to come straight to his door.