It was supposed to be a simple, straightforward Hunt.

A couple of disgruntled Exiles had attacked a public fair in the Central district. Ruban and Simani had been sent as backup for the team from the Central Ragah Division. A few of their more experienced Hunters had retired recently, and the current team was fairly new to the job. This Hunt was supposed to serve as a kind of on-the-job training for the rookies, overseen by Ruban and Simani.

The afternoon was colder than usual, for this time of year. And the only trouble Ruban predicted was getting thronged by random onlookers vying for a selfie or an autograph. The interview with Viman Rai, over a month ago, had done wonders for his reputation, as well as that of the Hunter Corps as a whole. But the sudden spike in popularity did come with its drawbacks.

Still, he didn’t expect to have to worry about that until the Hunt was over and the Exiles safely restrained. Not even the most rabid fan would risk getting blown to bits for a photograph.

He’d miscalculated.

The trouble didn’t come from the civilians. It came from their own ranks. One of the rookies from the Central Ragah Division, to be precise.

The young man – with big brown eyes and floppy brown hair – all but threw himself at Ruban the moment he stepped out of the patrol car.

The charred remains of his uniform shirt, hanging off the right side of his waist, told Ruban he’d narrowly missed being roasted alive by an energy-shell. A shell that’d apparently detonated against a Ferris wheel further within the fairgrounds.

“We’ll have to check for casualties once this is over.” Simani unsheathed her sifblade as she spoke. “This place is far too crowded.”

“If their aim was to cause maximum chaos,” Ruban said, his voice strained. “They chose well.”

Simani nodded. “We need to form a perimeter. Keep the civilians out and the Aeriels in, as much as possible. I’ll get the Central team to—”

Before she could finish that thought, a massive energy-shell hurtled towards them through the air.

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Simani rushed forward, shoving Ruban and the floppy-haired kid out of harm’s way with one powerful maneuver. The shell brushed past her, barely singeing the side of her abdomen.

Without missing a beat, she pivoted, drawing a few sifkren from her belt.

With flawless coordination, she and Ruban together flung half a dozen sifkren at the Aeriel that’d attacked them.

Five of the six connected with their target. The Aeriel went down, engulfed in the light spilling from its own wounds.

After that, things deteriorated quickly.

One major reason for that was the floppy-haired young Hunter from the Central Ragah Division – Lt. Atbin Siyal, as Ruban would later learn. He all but clung to Ruban’s coattails, refusing to stray more than a few feet from him at any given time.

Frustratingly, this forced Ruban to stay on the ground.

The remaining Aeriel circled them. Ruban held up his hands, and Simani used him as leverage to catapult herself into the air, seizing one of the creature’s massive wings.

For a few minutes, they struggled mid-air. A hoarse cry from Simani drew everyone’s gaze to the fight. Light spilled from somewhere in the lower half of the Aeriel’s body, telling Ruban that she’d managed to wound it.

This would’ve been good news, had it not also drawn the attention of three more Aeriels that’d been lurking in the vicinity, perhaps enjoying the carnage from a distance.

While Simani remained locked in her struggle up above, Ruban soon found himself surrounded by the three newcomers, one of them an X-class.

He gritted his teeth, readjusting his grip on his blade. His other hand hovered over the reinforced sifblade still sheathed and attached to his belt.

This was not good. They’d been told there would only be two Aeriels at the fair. And while there were technically six Hunters on-site – including the four from the Central Ragah Division – three of them were rookies, barely done with their training. That left them with three experienced Hunters (including himself and Simani) and five Aeriels (one of them an X-class).

Ruban had faced worse odds, but rarely.

“Draw your blade,” he growled at Atbin. The kid had so far been trying to hide behind Ruban, and doing a poor job of it. For one, he was slightly taller than Ruban, albeit much thinner. And for the other, even if he’d wanted to, Ruban couldn’t shield him from opponents that were up in the air, while they were stuck to the ground.

He didn’t have time to see if Atbin followed his instruction.

In the next moment, there was an inhuman shriek from somewhere up above, followed by a flash of light. Simani dropped to the ground beside him, crouching. In one hand she clutched her reinforced sifblade, while the other was clamped on her shoulder.

She’d been injured, but a single glance told Ruban it wasn’t critical.

The Aeriel she’d been fighting gave a few desperate flaps of its wings, then plummeted gracelessly to the ground less than a hundred meters away.

Its body convulsed briefly, spilling light. Then it stilled, unmistakably dead.