The clang of forged steel on scaled abyssal hide echoed down the western gorge, loud enough to rattle loose pebbles off the cliff faces. Laia moved through the scattered packs of spawn like a whirlwind, two heavy dwarf-forged short blades in either hand, cutting down beast after beast without pausing to reload.
She'd left her hunting rifle tucked deep in her satchel, along with her modified bolts and stack of rune-carved explosive charges. Rifles were efficient, quiet, perfect for steady, low-profile merit farming. But if she wanted to draw out a certain overgrown tiger king who'd decided the whole gorge was his personal property? She needed noise. She needed to be loud, reckless, and impossible to ignore.
The outer ring beasts scattered before her, whimpering and scrambling for cover. Every last one of them had heard the stories by now—the human god who'd stripped two entire clans bare in a single night, who'd outwitted the Iron-Mawed himself with nothing but smoke bombs and three clunky automated turrets. None of them wanted to be the next clan to lose their den and their stored supplies. A scrawny tunnel fiend burrowed into the soft dirt at the base of the cliff and took off for the middle ring as fast as its claws could carry it, already screaming the news over its shoulder as it ran.
Garrick the Iron-Mawed was pacing the mouth of his central den, still simmering with white-hot rage, when the scout came skidding into the cave.
The rumors had only gotten worse overnight. Word had spread across half the middle ring that he'd been out in the eastern gorge practicing ceremonial dance moves to impress a fox clan matriarch, and that he'd gotten into a screaming fight with his own son over her. He'd already mauled three messengers just for repeating the joke within earshot. The tunnel fiend clans were the worst gossips in the entire abyss. He'd make them pay for it, just as soon as he dealt with the huntress.
"My liege!" the scout yelped, flattening itself against the stone floor so fast it left a dust cloud. "The human god! She's back! Cutting through the western outer ring with two swords, slaughtering everything in her path. Says she's waiting for you."
Garrick's massive head snapped around. His ears flattened against his skull, and a low, rumbling snarl built in his chest so deep it shook loose dust from the cave ceiling. Finally. He'd had two dozen scouts patrolling every inch of the outer ring for two straight days, and she'd finally showed her face. Stupid, arrogant little thing, coming back alone with just two blades. She must have thought his embarrassment had made him careless, that he'd fall for another cheap trick.
"Any sign of backup?" he snapped, his claws digging gouges into the stone floor. "Other gods? Border wardens? Imperial troops?" The scout shook its head so fast its floppy ears smacked against its own face. "None, my liege. All alone. Just her and two swords. Making a right mess of the outer spawn packs."
Good. If she'd come alone, she wasn't planning another hit-and-run. She'd come to gloat, to pick a fight, proud and stupid like every other overconfident young god who'd wandered into his territory. He'd make an example of her. String her carcass up at the gorge entrance as a warning to every other hunter who thought they could trespass on his land and steal from his clans.
"Kael," he roared, already padding toward the cave mouth, his massive paws shaking the ground with every step. "Rorgoth. Veyra. With me. Let's go greet our guest."
Back in the gorge, Laia wiped dark abyssal blood off the blade of her shortsword and leaned against a jagged boulder, scanning the ridgeline. The last of the outer spawn packs had either run or been cut down. The whole valley was quiet now, save for the distant drip of moisture off the cave walls.
She'd felt Garrick's heavy Fifth Tier aura approaching three minutes prior. She'd also spent the better part of an hour planting proximity-triggered explosive mines all along the ridgeline and the narrow gully leading into the clearing, all tuned to react specifically to abyssal beast auras. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't here to duel a Fifth Tier beast fair and square. She was here to end a problem, collect a payday, and strip another den clean before the sun set.
She did the math in her head, quick and practical, the same way she calculated every other risk in her life. A confirmed Fifth Tier early-stage beast kill was worth a flat two thousand merits. The contents of his core den? Easily another three or four thousand, between blood essence, rare herbs, and stored abyssal relics. Even if she burned through every last explosive she'd made, even if she had to run for it half-broken, it was still a profit. Worth the risk.
The heavy pressure of Garrick's aura washed over the clearing a second later.
He stepped out onto the stone ridge overlooking the gorge, his massive black frame casting a long shadow over the rocks below. His pelt was crisscrossed with old battle scars, his eyes like smoldering coals, his fangs bared in a snarl. Kael trotted out beside him, his chest puffed out, and Rorgoth and Veyra flanked the pair, both wearing looks of bitter, hungry fury.
"You've got some nerve coming back," Garrick boomed, his voice rolling down the gorge like thunder. "After your coward's little trick with the smoke? I thought you'd scurried back to your little academy with your tail between your legs, never to show your face again."
Laia lifted her chin, resting one of her short blades across her shoulder, and smiled. "Coward's trick won me the fight," she called back, loud and clear. "Worked pretty well, if you ask me. You looked real silly jumping around in all that smoke."
Garrick's snarl deepened, and the ridge trembled under his paws. The rumors of his dancing lesson had clearly stung worse than she'd guessed.
"Mock me all you want, little god," he snarled, gathering his haunches to leap down into the clearing. "You will pay for your arrogance. You will pay for raiding my clans' dens. You will regret ever stepping foot in my territory."
He bared his fangs, and the killing aura rolled off him in waves, thick and suffocating. "Now. Pay for your foolishness."
Laia's hand drifted down to the satchel at her hip, her fingers wrapping around the trigger rune for the first row of mines. Her smile sharpened. Let him come. She'd been waiting.