Avian sat on the throne, covered in his own blood, eighth tier core blazing in his chest.

  Done. Finally fucking done.

  One hour left outside. About six more days in here.

  He spent them finishing up—testing a few things with Lux, pushing boundaries, exploring what their strengthened bond could do.

  Then it was time to leave.

  Lucan had mentioned it. To exit, focus on the device itself and it would appear in the inner world. Then just touch it.

  Avian closed his eyes, concentrated. Thought about the crystalline sphere, the ornate stand, the runes carved into ancient metal.

  A shimmer appeared in front of the throne.

  The device manifested—perfect recreation, glowing faintly. Lux stirred at his feet, sensing something changing.

  "See you on the other side," he muttered.

  His hand touched the crystal.

  Reality INVERTED.

  Not smooth like entering. Violent. His consciousness ripped from the inner world and hurled back into flesh with the force of a catapult. The throne room shattered into fragments, Lux's howl cutting off mid-sound, everything collapsing into a single point of white-hot awareness—

  Avian's eyes snapped open.

  He was lying in a bed. Not the table where he'd started—Lucan must have moved him after he went under. The ceiling of the cabin stared back at him, wooden beams solid and real.

  The disorientation hit immediately. His body felt wrong—stiff, locked from lying in one position for forty-eight hours straight.

  He sat up slowly, muscles protesting. No blood. No injuries. His physical body hadn't suffered at all—just lay here in stasis while his consciousness lived through months of agony.

  But underneath the stiffness—

  Power.

  His Aether Core burned bright and dense in his chest. Eighth tier. He could feel the difference immediately—the way mana moved through his channels, the sheer capacity available, the potential humming beneath his skin.

  Worth it. Every second of suffering had been worth it.

  Lux materialized from her ring without being called, lightning crackling across her form. She looked different. Stronger. Her fur sparked with electricity that had taken on a distinct gold tinge—brighter, more refined than before.

  She pressed against his leg, concern flooding their bond. Two days for her too, sitting dormant in the ring while he suffered. She'd felt every moment of it through their connection.

  "I'm okay," he said quietly. His voice came out normal—his physical throat hadn't been screaming for months, even if his mind remembered doing exactly that.

  The cabin was exactly as he'd left it. Lucan's device sat on the small table, innocuous and deadly. Forty-eight hours. That's all the time that had passed out here while he'd lived through hell.

  Lucan stood by the door. Not relaxed. Tense.

  Avian's instincts sharpened immediately.

  "They're close," Lucan said without preamble. "Getting closer. My barrier is holding but they're persistent."

  Avian straightened despite his body's protests. "How close?"

  "Close enough." Lucan's eyes met his, and for the first time Avian saw something like concern in that ancient gaze. "You need to leave. Now."

  "What about you?"

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  "I'll be fine. They're not looking for me." Lucan's expression shifted—something complicated passing across his weathered features. "Fate loves you, boy. It brought you here just in time. But the controllers of fate..." He paused, meaningful. "They have other plans."

  "What does that mean?"

  "I can't help you anymore," Lucan continued, not answering. "Any more involvement and they'll notice me. The gods. They don't like when people interfere with their games." His jaw tightened. "You're on your own from here."

  Avian grabbed Fargrim from where it leaned against the wall. The demon blade hummed recognition, eager after sitting dormant. No supplies. No food or water. Just the sword and whatever he could manage.

  He headed for the door.

  Lucan didn't move aside immediately.

  "You're eighth tier now," Lucan said quietly. "That gives you a chance. Circles?"

  "Approaching fifth." Avian flexed his hand, feeling the mana flow through newly-formed pathways. "Still consolidating."

  Lucan nodded, something like approval in his expression. "Good progress. What you do with it..." He shrugged. "That's your choice. But remember—power without control just makes you dangerous to everyone. Including yourself."

  "I'll keep that in mind while people are trying to kill me."

  Lucan almost smiled. "Smart ass. Go. East through the forest. Don't look back."

  Avian stepped out into morning light.

  The forest greeted him with birdsong and the smell of pine. Peaceful.

  He ran east like Lucan suggested, Fargrim in hand.

  Minutes passed. Trees, undergrowth, morning light filtering through leaves.

  Then he felt it through his bond with Lux.

  Danger.

  She materialized instantly, lightning crackling across her fur. Her hackles rose, electricity intensifying in warning.

  Auras. Multiple. Powerful. Closing in from different directions.

  Fuck.

  His aura control had been calibrated for seventh tier. Now at eighth, with a denser, more powerful core, he'd been leaking power without realizing it. Broadcasting his location like a beacon to anyone with the senses to detect it.

  Stupid. That was fucking stupid.

  Too late now.

  Avian stopped walking. Adjusted his grip on Fargrim. Felt his core settle into combat readiness.

  The first Hunter King burst from the trees.

  Tobias Quinn came in swinging—both axes descending in a brutal overhead strike meant to split Avian's skull.

  Fargrim came up on pure reflex. The impact of steel meeting demon blade sent shockwaves through Avian's arms. He slid back three feet, boots tearing furrows in dirt.

  Tobias jumped back, creating distance. His right leg still favored slightly—the wound from four days ago not fully healed.

  They separated, circling.

  Tobias's eyes met Avian's, and something flickered there. Recognition. Wariness.

  "Kid," Tobias said evenly. "You're looking better than last time."

  "Could say the same. How's the leg?"

  "Functional." Tobias didn't move closer. Just stood there, assessing. "You've gotten stronger. Eighth tier. That's... fast."

  The second Hunter King appeared from the right.

  An arrow whistled through the air.

  Avian twisted. The projectile grazed his shoulder, tearing fabric. It slammed into a tree behind him—and exploded, obliterating the trunk.

  Elara Veyrin was everything the rumors suggested—lean, dangerous, already nocking another arrow. Her aura sang eighth tier, sharp and precise.

  The arrow itself glowed faintly with her power. Aura coating it despite not being connected to her body—a feat that should've been impossible. The kind of mastery that separated legends from everyone else.

  "Tobias, you already got your chance." Elara smiled, predatory. "Back off. He's my prey now."

  A blur appeared behind him.

  Avian threw himself sideways. A golden fist punched through the space where his head had been—straight through a tree trunk. Wood exploded. The entire tree toppled.

  Dorian Rask stood there, golden aura flickering around his hands, already manifesting.

  He glanced at Elara. "You got here fast. I guess that's thanks to your fortune telling." Then back to Avian, clinical. "Three eighth tier versus one target. Math is simple."

  Avian stood perfectly still, mind racing. Three Hunter Kings. All eighth tier. All professional killers who'd survived by being smart and ruthless.

  Lux growled low, lightning crackling louder.

  They spread out, professional and coordinated. Tobias to the left, Elara to the right, Dorian straight ahead.

  Surrounded.

  He couldn't go back. Couldn't surrender. Couldn't talk his way out.

  Lux pressed against his leg, ready to fight and die beside him if that's what it took.

  Only one option left.

  Avian took a breath. Let it out slowly.

  "Alright," he said quietly. "Let's do this."

  His aura exploded outward.

  Not a spike. Not a leak. A fucking DETONATION of eighth tier power that made the air itself tremble. Trees bent away from the pressure. Leaves scattered like someone had thrown a bomb.

  The Hunter Kings braced themselves.

  Tobias raised his axes. Elara's arrow tracked Avian's center mass. Dorian's golden aura flared brighter, manifestation magic building.

  Avian gripped Fargrim. Lux's lightning crackled louder, gold-tinged sparks dancing across her fur.

  He moved.

  Meanwhile - Hours South

  Thane's foot caught on a root.

  He stumbled, caught himself, kept walking.

  Axom walked beside him with that infuriating steadiness.

  "How much farther?" Thane asked.

  Whisper's presence stirred in his shadow. Still far. Multiple presences ahead. Long way at this pace.

  "Long way." Thane adjusted his sword belt. "We should—"

  The aura spike hit him like a physical blow.

  Thane stopped dead. His brother's power, he'd know it anywhere. And it was massive—eighth tier now.

  I knew it. There was no way you didn't get stronger.

  THERE! Whisper exploded from his shadow. NORTH! COMBAT! THE BATTLE'S STARTED!

  "How far?"

  Thirty minutes full sprint! Twenty if you push! GO NOW!

  Thane was already running.

  Hold on, Thane thought fiercely. Just hold on. I'm coming.