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Covenant: Valhalla
Initial Hunt

Initial Hunt

Yara crouched low to the ground, her pistol holstered but her sword drawn, its blade reflecting the waning sunlight. Beside her, Zane held his crossbow steady, the sharp edge of his dagger glinting at his side. Both of them were laser-focused on the creature grazing a short distance away: a prairie hare, though calling it a hare seemed laughable. The beast was enormous, about the size of an ox calf, with thick, sinewy legs and a single curved horn protruding from its forehead. Its fur shimmered faintly in the golden light, and every twitch of its ears exuded raw power.

“That thing looks like it could feed an army,” Yara whispered, her eyes narrowing.

“If we can actually kill it,” Zane murmured back, adjusting his grip on the crossbow. “One wrong move, and it’ll bolt.”

A few meters away, Ethan pressed himself against the trunk of a dry prairie tree, bow in hand. He drew a deep breath, his fingers poised on the string as a shimmering arrow of prana materialized, glowing faintly blue. He could feel the tension in the air, his heart pounding in sync with the subtle hum of energy in his weapon.

“On my mark,” Yara said, her voice barely audible. “Ethan, aim for the flank. Zane, distract it with a bolt to the ground near its front legs. I’ll move in if it charges.”

Ethan gave a small nod, focusing his aim. His hands were steady, but a strange warmth began to creep through his body, and a fleeting, sharp pain pulsed at the back of his skull. He winced slightly but pushed through it, locking his gaze on the hare.

“Now,” Yara commanded.

Zane fired first, the crossbow bolt whistling through the air and striking the ground just inches from the hare’s forelegs. The creature reared up, its horn gleaming ominously as it let out a guttural, bone-shaking cry. Ethan released his prana arrow in the same moment, the energy-infused projectile streaking toward its flank with a faint whine. The arrow struck true, embedding itself in the beast’s side and dispersing a burst of crackling light on impact.

The hare staggered but didn’t fall. Instead, it lowered its head, its horn pointed directly at Yara, and charged. She sidestepped with practiced ease, slashing at its side as it barreled past her. The blade left a deep gash, but the hare’s momentum carried it forward, and it twisted around for another attack.

Ethan conjured another prana arrow, his vision blurring for a split second as the heat in his body intensified. He shook it off, exhaling sharply as he released the arrow. This time, the projectile struck the hare’s leg, causing it to stumble. Zane seized the opportunity, rushing in with his dagger to deliver a quick, precise cut to its throat. The hare’s cries turned to gurgles as it collapsed to the ground, its massive body heaving once before going still.

The three of them stood there for a moment, catching their breath. Ethan leaned against the tree, wiping sweat from his brow. His face was pale, and his chest rose and fell heavily.

“You okay?” Zane asked, noticing Ethan’s condition.

“Yeah,” Ethan replied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just...a little lightheaded. I’m fine.”

Yara sheathed her sword and walked over, inspecting the hare. “This thing put up more of a fight than I expected,” she said, poking at its horn. “But look at all this meat. We’re eating well tonight.”

Ethan forced a smile. “Let’s just divide it and get back to camp before something bigger shows up.”

Zane nodded. “Good call. The smell of blood isn’t exactly subtle.”

The three of them worked quickly, though their inexperience showed in the uneven cuts and clumsy handling of the hare’s massive carcass. They managed to divide it into three portions, each wrapped tightly in spare cloth to minimize the scent. Yara took the horn as well, tucking it into her bag as a trophy.

“Alright,” Yara said, slinging her share over her shoulder. “Let’s move.”

The journey back to camp was uneventful but tense. Ethan stayed silent for most of the walk, his mind drifting back to the strange heat and pain he’d felt during the fight. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, but it was getting harder to ignore. He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if to reassure himself that he was still in control.

“Hey,” Yara said, breaking the silence. “You sure you’re good? You’ve been quiet.”

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Ethan looked up, meeting her concerned gaze. “I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Tired, my ass,” Zane muttered. “You’re pale as a ghost. If something’s wrong, you need to tell us.”

Ethan forced another smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just focus on getting back.”

Yara and Zane exchanged a glance but didn’t press further. They knew better than to push Ethan when he was like this.

By the time they reached the camp, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the prairie. The fire pit was already glowing with warmth, and the rest of the team looked up as the hunters approached.

“That was quick,” Herbie said, his eyes lighting up as he saw the meat. “And successful, by the looks of it.”

“You’re welcome,” Yara said, dropping her bundle near the fire. “Now let’s eat before something decides to sniff us out.”

The sun had dipped lower on the horizon, painting the prairie in hues of amber and crimson. The team gathered around their small campfire, the flames crackling softly, casting flickering shadows on their faces. Despite the warmth of the fire, the atmosphere remained cautious, their gazes periodically scanning the surrounding grasslands for any signs of movement. Years of simulation training had ingrained this habit—constant vigilance, even during moments of rest.

Ethan crouched near the fire, carefully sprinkling his prized collection of spices over the freshly cut rabbit meat. “A little of this,” he murmured, his voice low but tinged with a rare hint of enthusiasm. “And a bit of this… should make it just right.” He skewered the meat on sticks and propped them over the fire, the aroma already making Zane’s stomach growl audibly.

“You and your spices,” Zane muttered, shaking his head as he sharpened his dagger absentmindedly. “We’re out in the wild, and you’re treating this like some gourmet picnic.”

Ethan smirked but didn’t look up. “We’re eating it, aren’t we? Might as well make it good.”

Meanwhile, Yara and Iris worked together to prepare a makeshift stew. Using a pot they’d packed, they mixed chunks of rabbit meat with wild herbs Herbie had identified earlier as safe. The bubbling stew filled the air with an earthy, hearty scent. Yin Xue stood silently nearby, her spear leaning against a rock as she methodically smoothed the edges of the skillet stone. Her movements were precise, almost meditative.

“How’s that bread coming along?” Elara asked, glancing over at Yin Xue.

“It’ll do,” Yin Xue replied in her calm, almost detached tone. She placed the flat stone near the edge of the fire, letting it heat evenly. “Just don’t expect bakery quality.”

Yara chuckled softly. “I’ll take whatever I can get as long as it’s not raw.”

Their voices remained low, their conversation muted by the unspoken tension in the air. Though they appeared relaxed, their bodies were subtly poised, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of danger. Months of rigorous training had drilled this state of readiness into them, but they all knew—deep down—that simulated danger couldn’t compare to the real thing.

Zane broke the silence. “Anyone else feel like this is a bit too quiet?”

“Always is, until it isn’t,” Iris replied, not looking up from her bow as she checked its string. “Best not to jinx it.”

“She’s right,” Yin Xue added, her voice steady. “Complacency kills.”

“Comforting,” Zane muttered, though he gave a small nod, acknowledging the truth of her words.

As the sun sank lower, their preparations neared completion. Ethan’s barbequed meat sizzled over the fire, its golden-brown surface glistening with juices. The stew was thick and fragrant, and Yin Xue expertly flipped flat rounds of dough on the heated stone, their edges crisping perfectly.

Finally, they gathered around the campfire, each holding their portion of the meal. The solemn atmosphere persisted, but there was an unspoken camaraderie in the way they sat close, forming a protective circle around the fire. The prairie’s vastness seemed less intimidating with their shared presence.

Inside the single tent they had set up, the interior was a stark contrast to its humble exterior. Space-prana engravers had transformed it into a spacious haven. Eight neatly arranged beds lined the walls, and though there was no kitchen, two compact toilets were tucked into the corners. The tent’s enchanted interior offered a brief respite from the harsh reality outside.

Back by the fire, Ethan held his plate, his mouth watering as he prepared to take his first bite of barbequed rabbit. The others were already eating quietly, their eyes still occasionally darting to the darkening horizon. Just as Ethan brought the food closer, a strange sensation washed over him. The plate felt heavier in his hand, and the warmth of the fire seemed to fade.

His vision blurred for a moment, and when it cleared, he wasn’t by the campfire anymore. He was back in that crimson-hued void.

The eerie silence pressed against his ears, and the air felt dense, almost suffocating. In front of him, the massive ashen-white object he’d seen in his previous dream had changed. Now, it was split into two distinct spherical forms. One was ashen and lifeless, its surface cracked and scarred. The other was white but tinged with streaks of crimson, pulsing faintly as if alive.

Ethan’s grip on his spoon tightened, his knuckles whitening as he stared at the spheres. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound reverberating in the oppressive stillness. The faint hum he’d heard before returned, growing louder, more insistent. It seemed to come from the crimson-tinged sphere, its glow intensifying with each pulse.

Instinctively, Ethan reached out, though he wasn’t sure why. His fingers hovered just inches from the spheres when the hum reached a deafening crescendo. The world seemed to tilt, and for a brief, disorienting moment, Ethan felt as if he were falling.

And then, everything went black.