The moment I jolted awake, I knew precisely what needed doing. Snatched up that scrappy little bag I’d whipped together earlier, stashed with my precious monster cores. Then I shook awake my nook-mate Badger. Poor thing seemed to sense something was off—perhaps from my frenzied movements or the tension radiating off me. I spread my Air Sense in a 20-meter ring, but all I picked up were a few stray beasts, nothing more.

Lotte’s sudden warning was enough to make my skin crawl. Danger was looming, and I had a strong inkling about who was behind it. Bloody divinators. Sod it all—what fresh hell had they dragged me into now?

If it truly were those lot, then that meant a target was likely pinned on my back. How they’d track me, I couldn’t be sure, but they surely would. For the moment, I sensed nothing immediate. But “prepare” I must, and in this case, that meant only one thing: pulling up my stats screen. It was high time to fuse these skills and unlock a proper technique.

I confirmed the system prompt to begin the fusion, and no sooner had I done so than I felt an odd tingle take root in my mind. A rush of knowledge began seeping through me, steady and sure, feeding my body the knowledge of a stance. Muscles tightened, anticipation heightened, but I kept my Air Sense on high alert.

And that’s when I noticed something amiss. Monsters loitering at the edge of my radius were…vanishing. As if something were devouring them whole. One, two, three, disappearing from every direction. Either that or—Thalador help me—my hunters had arrived. I pushed my Air Sense to its limit, but even then, couldn’t make out their shapes. Another beast dropped, and my gut twisted. I had to flee. They must be using stealth magic, hiding their presence from me. And evidently, these people were prepared, likely even aware of my Air Sense.

Skill fusion was still in process, that steady trickle of knowledge weaving through me, but for the first time, I felt true danger. I glanced at Badger. If they were slaughtering every creature nearby, then she might be next. I motioned for her to stay put and gently slipped her into the bag of monster cores. No way I’d let them harm her. She was, after all, my very first friend down here. I tightened the bag around me as she peeked out, eyes anxious, and gave her a reassuring nod. My slitted gaze narrowed, and I slid out of the nook.

Flying was an option, sure, but it would make me an easy target. I couldn’t fly half as fast as I could leg it. And with Lotte’s warning about multiple threats, there were bound to be mages or rangers among them. If they already knew about my Air Sense, who’s to say they weren’t equally prepared for flight?

I scanned my surroundings, my heightened senses painting everything in vivid hues. My mind raced, even as that cool, steady rush of knowledge settled into my bones. How much longer would this fusion take?

Right then—I couldn’t sit around waiting. I was surrounded, no doubt. All right, just pick one direction and leg it. Yes, that’s the plan!

I picked a direction at random and strode off, confident I'd inevitably run into someone. Whoever they were, they’d somehow slipped under the radar of my Air Sense—doing Thalador knows what—so I kept every other sense on high alert. My hues let me see with vivid, perfect clarity, and it wasn’t long before a yell tore through the underbrush. I caught sight of him just before he burst into view, sword in hand. A mission notification flashed in my periphery; dismissed it at once. I had bigger fish to fry.

An elf, tall and brawny, his sword lifted with menacing purpose. The moment he locked eyes with me, he growled something, voice gruff and ready to spring. His stance was rock-solid, low to the ground, poised to counter. And, quicker than I could blink, he surged forward. I dodged to the side in a flash, but that blasted sword of his followed me with such precision that I had to abruptly halt, momentum be damned. A gash appeared on my side, and, to make matters worse, it was starting to freeze.

A warning rumble escaped my throat. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill prey or some woodland fiend. No, this one had seen his share of battles, a proper monster-slayer and likely yellow core, judging by his no-nonsense approach to killing me.

I moved; his sword moved. I dashed; the sword dashed with me. He wasn’t just reacting; he was reading my moves, probably with a dash technique of his own. No way to slip from his grasp.

So I changed tack. Escaped escaping, as it were.

Just as his sword cut through the air again, I lunged, claws out and thrumming with stamina, straight for his guard. He didn’t so much as flinch, deflecting with the flat of his blade, sending a clang ringing through the air, sparks flying. My follow-up attack echoed in the empty space.

With a flicker of thought, I pumped four mana into my fire gland. My sights were on his neck, and a torrent of flame burst forth. He dodged. My chance. I tried to weave around him, but there he was again, always a step ahead, blade glinting as he swung at my side. I ducked, dashed back, barely slipping out of reach of the arc. Another gout of flame from me; another dodge from him. I tried to take advantage of his off-balance stance, lashing out with my tail, which sliced past his arm but only left a shallow mark. He didn’t even blink.

Then it came, a rumbling underfoot—a sign that this warrior wasn’t my only problem. I knew well enough these bastards hunted in packs. And just as I feared, his teammate had arrived. A robed figure appeared, arcane runes swirling in a circular matrix, forming a continuous spell. This wasn’t good. I needed to run. Needed to bolt. Otherwise, I’d be done for.

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Think, Jade, THINK!

The faint tug of unformed knowledge was there, taunting me. Thalador’s grace, how much longer till these blasted skills merged and that technique took hold? Time wasn’t on my side. I considered Roaring to stun them, maybe buy a moment’s breath, but it would leave me too exposed. No chance for that. Another slice, another dodge. The ground buckled as an earthen wall sprang up before me. Just caught a glimpse of the mage—my hackles rose. Right, if I couldn’t get past the warrior, I’d take a shot at his friend.

I darted to the side, claws at the ready, angled straight for the mage. But another wall shot up, and I’d been expecting that. Wings flared, I leapt clean over it, claws thrumming with stamina as I hurtled down. Only to smack against a barrier. Bloody Thalador, what was it with these Elves and their bloody shielding enchantments? But just as I was cursing, I knew I’d made a fatal error.

Another warrior had slipped behind the mage and was already closing in. His sword swung before my paws even touched the ground. I lashed out with my claws, sparks crackling as metal met them—but the warrior was relentless, driving a knee squarely into my hindquarters. And there I went, launched like a ragdoll, air slammed from my lungs as I hurtled backwards. I thudded against a tree, the impact jarring, but not enough to knock me out. I still had sense enough to roll, dashing just in time to avoid two gleaming swords.

Earthen walls sprang up around me, their plan becoming all too clear: box me in, corner me for capture. That’s why they were being so bloody careful. Maybe they’d wound me, weaken me, but not one strike aimed at anything vital. No, they were targeting my legs, doing their best to rob me of my mobility, one swipe at a time.

The first warrior came at me again, his blade glinting with an icy blue edge. I… was losing here, and the picture of it sparked a fierce, simmering rage. If this was how it went, I’d make sure to take one of these smug bastards down with me. I dropped low, claws scraping against the packed earth as I lunged forward, aiming right for his exposed knee. But he stepped back with infuriating ease, redirecting my strike with a flick that nearly threw me off balance.

Then came a tremor—a stone spike burst from the ground behind me. I twisted, slicing through it with a sharp swipe before diving sideways as more spikes erupted in my wake.

More dashes. The second warrior joined in.

The mage wasn’t letting up either, shifting the earth to herd me right into the first warrior’s line of attack. And the second one, no doubt, was there to cut off any chance of escape. They knew my dashes, my flight, my claws, even my Air Senses—the divinators weren’t to be trifled with.

The first elf lunged again, his sword slicing toward my legs. I twisted, his blade missing by a hair, but he was relentless. A second swing followed, aimed right at my shoulder. I dodged sideways, the tight space and crowded walls making every move riskier, every dodge closer.

The mage raised his hands again, shifting the ground as if he’d puppeteered it his whole life. Every dash was draining my stamina now, down to the 60s. No time to waste. I lunged straight at the sword-wielder, claws out. He didn’t flinch, bracing himself, grip steady for the clash. But I feinted left, then struck right, catching him just off guard enough to rake my claws across his forearm. He hissed, but the cut barely scratched him.

His blade lashed out in a tight arc—I ducked, but not quickly enough. The edge nicked my scales. I tried to fall back, but my shoulder hit solid stone. No space to breathe. They had me cornered. And before I could blink, the ground beneath me pulsed with life as a net of glowing gold surged up, encasing me completely.

A strange calm settled over me, the steady rush of technique’s knowledge finally sinking into my bones. My slitted eyes narrowed on the smug warrior standing before me, his smug smile twisting my insides.

Just you fucking wait.

[Mission Accepted]

I’d wipe that smug, cocky grin off his insufferable face.

***

Carel sometimes loathed this place—honestly, bioluminescent trees, shadows dancing with every whisper of wind. Utterly eerie. His team moved in hushed precision, each footstep cushioned by layers of fallen leaves and moss.

Soril was just ahead, staff gripped tight, her spell matrix already primed, while Lira trailed behind. Their movements were fluid; a year of training at the Delver’s Guild had ingrained it into them—watchful eyes, ears tuned to every twitch and rustle.

Ahead stood a figure, the lone divinator of the camp, standing still as stone in his illusionary cover. Carel was still incredulous someone’d managed to hire an actual divinator for half the mission’s reward. Reasonable enough, given divination was a pricey and perilous path. There were far cushier gigs than spelunking with dungeon-delvers, but hey, who was he to judge? He’d once had a stash, too.

Now, thanks to Soril’s spell, Carel could see through the divinator’s mirage—and there he was, totally oblivious to their approach. Carel leaned toward Soril with a smirk.

"Really, Soril, care to remind me whose genius idea it was to miss our chance with the only divinator in camp?”

Soril shot him a glare, giving his nose a flick. “I’d say it was the one distracted arguing over the handlers’ reward scheme, Carel.”

Carel feigned offense. “Oh, please. If we’re blaming distractions, let’s point fingers at the one who thought she’d ‘charm’ our way to the front of the line. Lira?”

Lira, deftly skirting a thorn bush, stifled a grin, which looked undeniably odd on someone her size. “Diplomacy, Carel, is what it’s called. Not my fault the other team had more ‘charm’ jingling in their pouches.”

“Diplomacy,” Carel scoffed, nodding at the divinator ahead. “Sure, that’s what they call it in the capital. Out here? Losing an asset.”

The divinator was a wiry sort, swathed in white robes, a glinting blue orb orbiting him like some celestial body. He’d probably already pointed the earlier team straight to the creature’s lair, maybe even rattled off tips on its powers and counters. Handy. Too bad they hadn’t snagged him first.

Lira gave a casual shrug, her eyes locked on the figure ahead. “If we’d gotten him first, we’d be splitting the rewards. This way, we stay clean, scoop all the loot, and skip the lecture on ‘team dynamics.’”

Soril glared, ducking under a low branch. “And if they actually capture it? You’d walk away empty-handed?”

Lira glanced back at them, her grin widening. “You think I’d leave spoils? We’re here for insurance.”

Carel stifled a chuckle. Sure, they’d missed the divinator, and now only one path remained. He had no clue which team had hired him, but if it was one of the rookie squads who flooded these kinds of contracts, well…they might just nab the beast themselves. A bit of intimidation—or, if necessary, a well-placed “misunderstanding”—and they’d be waltzing off with that prize solo. No divinator, no split.

They waited in silence, ears pricked, and before long, faint laughter echoed through the trees. The divinator’s face brightened as he drifted toward the sound. They hadn’t needed to wait long at all.