Chapter 113 — The Hunt Begins

  A Nagging Feeling

  Departure Check-In

  Seven stopped by the guild’s front desk, the early morning light barely scraping across the lobby floor. Lola was already there, sorting mission records with mechanical precision, her long ears twitching as he approached.

  She glanced up, scanning him once.

  "Heading out now?"

  Seven nodded. “Yeah. Wanted to check out officially.”

  Lola tapped her stylus, updating his status.

  “You’re cleared. But… try not to make Miss Hopps regret sending you alone.”

  Seven smirked faintly. “No promises.”

  But her expression softened, if only slightly.

  “Come back in one piece, okay? We already have too many unanswered questions with Raven’s team missing their last check-in.”

  Seven paused mid-turn.

  “They’re not missing—just delayed.”

  Lola didn’t argue. She didn’t need to.

  Her silence said enough.

  He left the guild with the weight of that silence sitting across his shoulders like frost.

  Hopper waited for him by the guild steps, bow slung over his shoulder, breath steaming in the cold air.

  “Figured I’d walk you out,” Hopper said. “Got downtime before patrol.”

  “Appreciated,” Seven replied.

  They walked through the quiet streets of Novastra together.

  Most of the city was just waking. Market vendors lifted stall shutters; fishermen pushed small boats onto the canal; engineers carried crates of spent Aether cells toward the refinery.

  But their faces…

  Fear. Worry. Suspicion.

  Snippets of whispering caught Seven’s ear:

  “The Aku demand half our reserves…”

  “We’ll starve if we give it.”

  “They’ve never wanted peace—only dominance.”

  “They’ll come for the walls next.”

  Children were ushered indoors by nervous parents when they saw Seven—the human with the glowing number. The anomaly. The outsider is caught between every faction’s fears.

  Hopper nudged him.

  “Don’t let it get to you. They’re scared of everything right now.”

  “Yeah,” Seven murmured. “I noticed.”

  They reached the final stretch toward the main gate.

  Hopper inhaled sharply.

  “…You sure about doing this alone?”

  Seven didn’t answer right away. He just adjusted his rifle strap and eyed the barrier pulsing weakly above the walls.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Doesn’t matter if I’m sure,” Seven said finally. “It needs to be done.”

  Hopper nodded once. No more questions.

  Seven checked in with the gate guards. They gave him wary nods, raising the reinforced portcullis as the barrier runes hummed weakly overhead.

  He stepped through.

  And the cold hit him like a wall.

  The world outside Novastra was a merciless sheet of white — rolling snowfields, jagged cliff faces, and the distant echo of something massive shifting beneath the wind.

  Snow stung his face as he pulled up his collar.

  Gear check. Routine. Necessary.

  Rifle: secured, mana cell charged

  Sidearm: holstered, ready

  Bionic arm: synced and steady

  Digital compass: calibrated

  Enchanted jacket: sealed against cold

  Mana reserves: stable

  Everything was in order.

  But the feeling wasn’t.

  His instincts — the same ones that kept him alive through war and through being hunted by Apexs.

  Something patient.

  Something hungry.

  Seven tightened his grip on his coat.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  Predators in the Snow

  High above the pale valley, hidden among the serrated ridge lines, two pairs of golden eyes glowed through the swirling frost.

  Kinata and Lyra.

  Both in their small forms—still giants by human standards, but small enough to roam unseen.

  Kinata crouched on a ledge, snowflakes melting on her raven-black hair. Even at eight feet tall, she moved like a shadow of something much larger. Something monstrous. Her tail flicked with quiet, predatory impatience.

  Lyra perched beside her, leaner and deceptively delicate at seven feet. Her kunai glimmered faintly with venom as she rolled them between her fingers. Shadows coiled around her shoulders like living smoke.

  They watched the lone figure trudging into the wastes.

  Lyra smirked, the corner of her lip curling.

  “Look at that. They’re actually sending him out alone.”

  Kinata didn’t blink. Her gaze tracked Seven’s every movement.

  “The Guild is stretched thin. Desperation makes people careless.”

  Her claws flexed—subtle, controlled, almost hopeful.

  “This gives us the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

  Lyra tilted her head, mischievous amusement dancing in her gaze.

  “We could take him now. Before he even realizes he left the gate.”

  Kinata’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous purr.

  “No. We wait. Let him stray farther. Let him think he’s truly alone.”

  She shut her eyes for a moment—savoring the anticipation like electricity beneath her skin.

  “When the time comes, he’ll struggle. I want that.”

  Lyra clicked her tongue, sliding her kunai back into her belt.

  “As you command.”

  They rose in unison.

  And then—

  without a sound—

  they vanished into the white.

  Only the wind remained.

  And somewhere far below, Seven walked deeper into their hunting grounds.

  Enchanted Combat Ignition

  Seven pressed forward, boots carving deep tracks through the snow as the wind howled across the valley floor.

  He didn’t have time to waste.

  Drawing a measured spiral of mana into his core, he activated Enchanted Combat.

  Red, jagged sigils crackled along his veins — glitch-like patterns pulsing with each heartbeat. His body responded instantly:

  Muscles tightened.

  Breath deepened.

  Reflexes sharpened.

  The world around him seemed to contract.

  And then he moved.

  Snow exploded behind him as he dashed across the valley at double his normal speed, the cold air tearing past his face. The bite of frost vanished beneath the overwhelming focus of the enhancement.

  This was only the 1.25× multiplier — but at this pace, he was covering terrain like a sprinting beast.

  High above the snow drifts, two golden-eyed silhouettes froze.

  Seven’s mana signature flared like a beacon.

  Kinata’s head snapped toward the surge, breath fogging in the frigid air. Lyra’s pupils dilated — instincts shifting from curious stalking to focused pursuit.

  Lyra whistled softly. “Didn’t expect him to move this fast… He’s getting stronger.”

  Kinata’s tail flicked once, slow and deliberate.

  Her voice was low, almost analytical.

  “He’s burning through stamina to maintain that. Humans aren’t built for enhancements this long.”

  Lyra flashed a grin. “Then we keep him running until he collapses.”

  Kinata didn’t return the smile. Her gaze never left his trail — reading every shift in snow, every sudden acceleration, every twitch of mana bleeding through the air.

  “This is a hunt,” she murmured.

  “And he’s already tiring.”

  They moved.

  Two shadows flowing through the blizzard.

  The hours blurred into a punishing rhythm.

  Seven sprinted through ravines, vaulted icy ridges, and weaved between dead trees — always watching, always listening. Every instinct screamed at him to keep moving.

  Anything slow… Anything careless… Would get him killed.

  He rotated through short bursts of Enchanted Combat, keeping his speed unpredictable. His boots tore trenches through hard snow. Frost gathered on the edges of his bionic arm. Each exhale followed with visible steam.

  But no matter how far, or how fast, he moved…

  He couldn’t shake them.

  Kinata and Lyra stalked him like phantoms.

  They didn’t pant.

  They didn’t stumble.

  They didn’t tire.

  They simply waited.

  Whenever Seven changed direction, they mirrored it. Whenever he slowed, they closed the distance. Whenever he stopped entirely—

  They vanished from sight.

  By dusk, his lungs burned. His ribs ached. His mana reserves had dipped lower than he wanted to admit.

  He finally slowed to a crawl, bracing a hand against a frost-covered tree.

  And then it hit him.

  Silence.

  Real silence.

  Not the silence of an empty valley — but the silence of something choosing not to make a sound.

  The kind of silence that meant danger.

  His heart hammered.

  “Someone’s here…”

  The Facility — Aether’s Whisper

  The wind shifted.

  Seven looked ahead — and his breath caught.

  An enormous metal structure loomed half-buried beneath decades of snow and ice. What looked like an industrial vault or a pre-war outpost exhaled faint pulses of Aether, distorting the air like heat over asphalt.

  The doors, once sealed, now sat slightly ajar.

  His bionic arm buzzed — reacting to the signature, synchronizing to something familiar deep in the metal.

  “…So this is the place,” Seven muttered.

  He approached with caution, placing a hand along the corroded frame.

  The moment he touched it—

  H R U U U M . . .

  A low hum vibrated through the metal envelope, resonating through his fingers and spine. Not a threat.

  Not a warning.

  An invitation.

  Or worse—

  Memory.

  Seven swallowed hard. “Feels like it’s alive…”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Somewhere from within the dark, the facility shifted — a mechanical groan echoing like something waking up after a long, long sleep.

  Hidden in the treeline above, two hunters crouched low, breath steady, eyes locked onto the lone human.

  Lyra’s expression tightened. “That place feels wrong. Like… rotten Aether.”

  Kinata inhaled slowly, sorting through scents.

  Metal.

  Stasis.

  Old blood.

  And a faint thread of something she recognized.

  “This is no human-made shelter,” she whispered.

  “Something else built this.”

  Lyra flicked a kunai into her hand. “Doesn’t matter. He’s cornered.”

  Kinata stepped forward, aura rippling through the snow like a guttural tremor.

  “No — not yet.”

  Lyra raised a brow. “Then when?”

  Kinata’s golden eyes narrowed.

  “When he’s inside.

  When escape becomes impossible.”

  She grinned — sharp, eager, but controlled.

  “Then,” she whispered, voice dropping to a predatory rumble…

  “We take him.”

  The snow swallowed their silhouettes.

  The hunt was no longer beginning.

  It was about to close.