I tucked my hood closer, concealing my face as I walked through the dimly lit streets. The Elsewhere Cult wasn’t large, but what they lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in influence and power. They operated from the shadows, only stepping into the light when it suited them.

In the novel, they were meant to be recurring villains, with the 'Prophet' playing a major role in several arcs.

I had every intention of taking the Prophet down, but for now, I had to focus on creating distractions—something to throw off their pursuit. Information about their inner workings was scarce, even with my meta-knowledge. It felt like I was constantly one step behind.

Their structure, as I remembered, was divided into three tiers: leadership, priesthood, and followers. The followers were mostly wealthy elites, people with enough money to buy their way into the cult but without the true initiation. They were pawns, essentially. The priesthood, however, was where the real danger lay. These people had survived alternate nightmare realities and returned with powers that made them formidable opponents. Every one of them was a walking disaster waiting to happen.

I made my way through a narrow alley, my footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone walls. After a few turns, I found the steel door where I had arranged the meeting. Knocking twice, I waited. The small peephole slid open, and a pair of glowing, aura-infused eyes studied me carefully. A hunter, no doubt.

"Come in," the voice grumbled from behind the door.

I stepped inside, my senses immediately assaulted by the shift in atmosphere. The alley outside had been grim, reeking of decay and garbage, but this place was different. It was a Hunter-affiliated club, hidden behind a façade of dilapidation.

The room was dimly lit, but it thrummed with energy. Hunters gathered in groups, discussing jobs, exchanging information, or simply relaxing after a mission. Weapons lined the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless you knew exactly where to look—and you certainly wouldn’t want to find yourself on the wrong side of anyone here.

I approached the bar, keeping my expression neutral, and signaled the bartender. “I’m here to meet people. Room 2022. Password: Never been a better time to cash in favors."

The bartender gave me a once-over, nodding subtly. "Straight ahead, turn left, and you'll see your room."

"How many are they?" I asked, slipping a small ruby across the counter. In the hunter world, we avoided leaving traces, meaning no cash. Most transactions between hunters were done in hunter-approved gold coins, but small gemstones were acceptable currency too.

He pocketed the gem without a second thought. "Four," he said quietly, not even looking up.

I nodded, then turned and headed for the room. Four. That was good. It meant every single person I’d called in was here. I’d thought hard in arranging this, carefully selecting the ones who could actually make a difference. Each owed me, and tonight, I intended to cash in every debt they had.

The hallway was dimly lit, the hum of distant conversation fading behind me. My steps were measured, slow, but inside, adrenaline had already started to churn. This meeting would set things in motion—plans I had been turning over in my head since I found out the Elsewhere Cult was targeting my son. I wasn’t just looking for help; I needed people who could fight, strategize, and—if necessary—kill.

Turning left as the bartender instructed, I reached a heavy, reinforced door. I knocked twice, the sound dull against the thick metal. A moment later, the door creaked open, and I stepped inside.

Four figures sat around a small table, their faces shadowed but familiar. I knew each one of them by name, reputation, and skill. These weren’t just ordinary hunters; these were people who had made their marks in the hunter world, for better or worse.

"Good to see you all," I said, closing the door behind me.

Now, it was time to get to work.

I stepped into the room, scanning the faces of the four people seated around the table. Each one had a distinct air of confidence and danger—characters I had written about long before any of this became real.

Rory Christen was the first I recognized. Petite with brown hair and freckles, she wore a simple one-piece, her seemingly innocent appearance hiding her true nature. A Seeker-type and Herb Hunter, Rory’s ability Poison Cook allowed her to craft poisons that could be disguised in any edible form. She owed me two favors, and I was going to cash them both in tonight.

Next was Grue. His helm and leather jacket made him look rough, and his lean frame was a testament to his Trickster-type skills. He was a Bounty Hunter with the sub-type of Torturer. His ability, Predation, was as deadly as it sounded. Once he marked his prey, he became invisible to them, stalking them until he struck. After killing his target, he absorbed their aura, healing himself and gaining strength. Grue owed me five favors—more than anyone else here.

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Carlyle Ferns sat straight, as if posing for a portrait. Blonde, green-eyed, and wearing a crisp blue suit, he looked like a polished businessman. But beneath that sharp exterior was a deadly Caster-type with the ability Force Wall, summoning nearly immovable barriers. Carlyle was a Treasure Hunter by trade, his polished demeanor often misleading those who underestimated his skills. He owed me one favor.

Lastly, there was Henry O. Notch. Bald with a scar running along his chin, his lanky frame was deceptive. Dressed in nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts, Henry’s unassuming appearance hid the fact that he was a Speedster sub-type and Maker-type. His special ability Super Boots gave him incredible speed, allowing him to run up walls, stick to surfaces, and bounce between obstacles like a human pinball. He also owed me one favor.

I approached the table and took the last seat. I didn’t need to know their full capabilities—secondary types or sub-types. I knew enough to make this work.

“Well,” I began, leaning forward with my hands folded. “Let’s get started.”

I pulled my hood down, revealing my face.

Rory’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a low whistle.

"I never knew the Author is such a handsome fella," she teased, her lips curving into a sly grin.

“Call me Rey instead,” I replied, brushing off the compliment. This wasn’t the time for pleasantries. We had work to do, and time was running short.

Carlyle leaned back in his chair, tapping his cane against the floor, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "So, what's the job about?" he asked, his voice carrying that cool confidence he always exuded.

I took a breath, meeting each of their gazes. "There's a gala, tonight at 8 PM. It’s going to be crawling with high-profile individuals, including members of the Elsewhere Cult. I’m going to kill them all."

The room fell silent. Rory’s playful smirk disappeared, replaced by a more serious look. Grue’s posture straightened, and I could almost feel the predatory excitement rolling off him. Carlyle’s fingers drummed against the table, and Henry tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"You are free to back out," I continued, "but know this: if you do, your reputation will be tarnished. Your name will be known for someone whose favor is as fickle as they come. And in our world, that can be more dangerous than any enemy."

Rory’s eyes flicked to the others, gauging their reactions, before she spoke. “So, we’re talking full-scale massacre? Or are we targeting specific individuals?”

“Targeting specific members,” I clarified. “But things will get messy. Once I start, there’s no turning back. The goal is to force the Elsewhere Cult’s attention onto me, make them think I’m their biggest threat. I’ll be going in first, drawing the fire. You support as needed, but no one leaves until the job’s done.”

Grue cracked his knuckles, a smile hidden beneath his helm. “Sounds like my kind of fun. Who’s the first one to die?”

I leaned forward, placing my hands on the table. “The Prophet’s right-hand priest is rumored to be there. He’s the priority. After that, we take down any other cult members present. They’ll be disguised among the guests, but we’ll know them.”

Carlyle raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do we pick them out from the crowd?”

I smiled, the kind that didn’t reach my eyes. "I’ve already set a trap for them. A small gift to the gala’s organizer—a cursed item the cult won’t be able to resist inspecting. That’ll be our marker."

Rory nodded, finally leaning back in her chair. "Alright, Rey. I’m in. Just tell me where to stand when the poison starts flowing."

Grue followed with a curt nod. "I’ll take care of the ones that run."

Carlyle sighed, shaking his head but smiling slightly. "Guess there’s no turning back, huh? I’ll handle crowd control."

Henry said nothing, but his smirk and the way he adjusted his boots told me he was ready.

I stood up from the table, pulling my hood back over my head. "Good. Meet me at the west entrance of the gala at seven. We’ll go over the final details then. And remember—once we start, we don’t stop."

The Elsewhere Cult would soon know what it meant to cross me, but the price to pay for their blood would be high. Too high, maybe.

I took out my phone and sent the details of the plan to the shared folder. Everything was laid out—escape routes, positions, target profiles, and the schedule. The others were sticking their necks out for me, risking their lives because they owed me. Favors were just among the few currency of the hunter world, and mine were among the most expensive. I had given them very rare information, some I practically saved their lives, and now I was cashing in.

But still, I thought they might object. I’d prepared gemstones just in case, figuring they could use the extra motivation. After all, nothing screamed commitment like a handful of precious stones. I'd recently sold off a few pieces of information to some rich mundanes to gather funds for this operation. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it kept the gears turning, and more importantly, it kept Leon and Leora safe.

A message pinged on my phone. It was Rory: "Plans received. Don't worry, Rey. We'll make it bloody."

I smirked. Rory was always quick to reassure, but I knew the stakes. These weren’t ordinary thugs we were going up against. The Elsewhere Cult was something I’d written myself into a corner with—a shadowy organization that would stop at nothing to achieve their twisted goals. Their Prophet’s ability to see through time and space made him the most dangerous enemy I’d ever created, even more terrifying now that I was living in this world.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket and headed toward the train station. The gala would be starting soon, and I needed to be ready. Tonight, blood would be spilled—whether it was theirs or ours, only time would tell.

As the train rattled into the station and I stepped on board, I couldn’t help but glance at the reflection in the glass. “Hmmm… I guess, I am handsome after all…”

The doors slid shut, and the train hummed as it pulled away. I leaned back in my seat, letting the motion rock me as I mentally went over every detail of the plan. Tonight was going to be brutal, but it had to be done. I was going to make sure the Elsewhere Cult regretted every moment they thought they could threaten my son.

This was war, and I wasn’t going down without a fight.