The tracks ended abruptly in a wide, mist-shrouded clearing. The ground was a churned-up mess of mud and splintered rock, and the air was electric, buzzing with a pressure that made the hairs on one's arms stand up.
In the center of the clearing lay the half-eaten carcass of a huge mountain bear, its spine snapped like a twig.
"It's here," Rylan whispered, his previous charm replaced by the focused intensity of a true predator.
He drew his twin daggers, their edges shimmering with a faint spatial distortion.
"A Rift-Stalker marks its territory. It's close. Very close."
Elara drew her rapier, its silver blade humming with contained light. Her expression was grim, her senses on high alert.
The flimsy excuse about the water had solidified into a cold certainty in her gut.
Something was wrong. The hunt felt wrong. Rylan felt wrong.
"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice low.
"Simple," Rylan replied, his eyes scanning the thick fog. "It's a territorial hunter. We need bait. Something to draw it out into the open."
His gaze slid, with theatrical reluctance, to Zane. "No offense, Zane, but you're the least combat-effective. Your best bet is to find cover at the edge of the clearing. If it comes for you, scream. Elara and I will handle the rest."
It was the perfect setup. Isolate the target. Use the monster as the murder weapon.
If Zane died, it was a tragic accident. An F-rank in over his head. No one would question it.
Elara's head whipped around. "No." The word was sharp, absolute. "He stays with us. We protect our own. That is the Sanctum's code."
Rylan's facade of friendship finally cracked. A flash of genuine, ice-cold frustration crossed his face before being reined in.
"Elara, be reasonable. This is an S-class threat we're discussing, not some common dungeon mob. His presence here is a liability that could get us all killed."
"Then the mission parameters were flawed, and we should retreat," she countered, standing her ground. She was done playing by other people's rules.
While they argued, Zane walked calmly to the center of the clearing and stood next to the bear carcass.
He looked utterly out of place, a sheep offering itself up in a wolf's den.
"He's right, Herald," Zane called out, his voice annoyingly placid. "Bait is a good idea."
"Zane, get back here!" Elara commanded, horrified.
"Don't worry," Zane said, giving them a reassuring thumbs-up. "I'm great at screaming."
Rylan stared, momentarily thrown off by Zane's cheerful compliance.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The target wasn't supposed to agree to be the bait. But he couldn't argue. He got what he wanted.
"Fine," Rylan gritted out, pulling Elara back towards the treeline. "Have it your way. Be ready."
The mist swirled. The clearing fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the distant drip of water.
Zane stood perfectly still, looking for all the world like a man waiting for a bus.
He wasn't scared. He was bored. He was annoyed. This whole charade had gone on long enough. It had delayed his dinner, forced him to walk up a mountain, and now it was getting repetitive.
AURA's voice was a calm counterpoint to the building tension.
[Analysis: Heart rate remains at resting levels. You appear to be... unconcerned.]
*I'm concerned about the state of my boots*, Zane thought back, looking down at the mud seeping into the worn leather. *They're definitely not going to survive this trip.*
A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. A distortion in the air. Not a physical presence, but a tear in reality itself.
It came without a sound. One moment, the space to Zane's left was empty air. The next, it was filled with a nightmare.
The Rift-Stalker was a creature of disjointed angles and shimmering, unstable limbs. It had too many joints, a head like polished obsidian with no eyes, and claws that seemed to cut through the light itself.
It moved by teleporting—'blinking'—short distances, making it almost impossible to track.
It appeared directly beside Zane, its razor-sharp claw swinging for a decapitating blow.
From the treeline, Elara screamed his name, a jet of holy light already erupting from her hand. Rylan moved too, a blur of motion, but he was a fraction slower, his 'rescue' timed to be just a little too late.
The claw swung.
And stopped.
It stopped an inch from Zane's neck, held fast in an invisible grip.
The Rift-Stalker, a creature that could tear through space, was frozen, its limb trembling against a barrier that wasn't there.
Zane hadn't moved a muscle. He slowly turned his head, looking at the creature's eyeless face with an expression of profound disappointment.
"Really?" he said, his voice quiet, yet it carried across the entire clearing. "This is what you've been chasing? This is the S-class threat?"
He sounded like a connoisseur complaining about a bad wine.
He lifted his hand. Not quickly. Lazily. He poked the Rift-Stalker's frozen claw with his index finger.
And the creature dissolved.
It didn't explode. It didn't scream. It just... unraveled.
Like a poorly woven tapestry, it came apart at the seams, its form dissolving into shimmering dust and fading echoes of spatial energy.
In three seconds, it was gone. Nothing was left but the buzzing silence.
At the edge of the woods, Elara's blast of light hit nothing but empty air. She stood frozen, her mouth agape, her mind a complete and utter blank.
Rylan's jaw was clenched so tight a vein throbbed in his temple. His eyes, stripped of all warmth and charm, were wide with a mixture of pure, undiluted shock and dawning terror.
The reports hadn't just been wrong. They hadn't even scratched the surface.
This wasn't an anomaly. This wasn't a glitch.
This was something else entirely.
Zane dusted off his hands, though they hadn't touched anything. He looked over at the two stunned A-rankers.
"Right," he said, his voice echoing the finality of a judge passing sentence. "The monster's taken care of."
His eyes settled on Rylan. The lazy, indifferent F-rank was gone.
In his place stood something cold, ancient, and utterly, terrifyingly, done with playing games.
"Now then, Rylan. Let's talk about you."