Leide stretched wide and wild beneath the afternoon sun — a sea of golden rock and red dust rolling toward the horizon.
The wind carried the scent of heat and sand, broken only by the hum of magitek engines from the convoy parked behind the ridge.
Sirius crouched at the edge of a cliff, goggles glinting faintly beneath his hood. His eyes followed the creature moving below: a Dualhorn, nearly three meters tall, its two massive tusks glinting like obsidian in the light.
The beast pawed the ground, snorting steam from its nostrils, the sound deep and rumbling like thunder.
Behind Sirius, Rhea adjusted her scope. "It's bigger than I thought."
Kael, crouched beside her, grunted. "They always are."
Sirius didn't move. His voice was calm. "One Dualhorn. Two smaller packmates hiding behind the ridge to the east."
Rhea frowned. "How do you—?"
"Listen," he said simply.
She closed her mouth, looking toward Cor, who stood a few meters away with arms crossed. His expression was the same mix of disapproval and pride that had become familiar.
"This isn't a game," Cor said quietly. "Dualhorns are aggressive. Thick hides. You can't rely on speed alone."
Sirius nodded. "Understood."
Kael glanced at him. "We're going together, right?"
Cor shook his head. "No. This one's his test."
Rhea's brows shot up. "Alone?"
Cor's eyes didn't leave Sirius. "He's learned to vanish. Now we see if he can strike without being seen."
---
Sirius dropped from the cliff without a word.
The others watched in silence as his cloak flared briefly — then stilled.
By the time his boots hit the sand below, he was gone.
Not invisible. Not cloaked.
Erased.
Even Cor's trained senses struggled to follow his presence as Sirius moved silently through the shimmering heat. The boy's aura folded inward, vanishing completely into the rhythm of the desert wind.
The Dualhorn's head lifted, nostrils flaring. It sniffed once, twice — then lowered its head again, deceived.
Sirius crept closer, every step measured. His heartbeat aligned with the desert's pulse, his breathing slower than the shifting air.
When he was twenty meters away, the creature twitched.
He froze mid-step, body dissolving into stillness.
The wind picked up — dust sweeping across the rocks.
He moved again, gliding from shadow to shadow.
He reached striking distance.
The Dualhorn turned its head, catching something in the air — not scent, not sound, but the faint disturbance of intent.
Too late.
---
The katana whispered from its sheath, silent and deadly.
The first slash traced along the creature's flank, opening a shallow cut before it even reacted.
It roared, stamping the ground hard enough to crack the rock.
Sirius darted aside, sliding beneath the beast's swing, blade flashing again — one strike, two, three, carving clean lines across its armored hide.
The Dualhorn turned, bellowing in fury. Its tusks crashed down — but Sirius was already behind it, vanishing and reappearing like a flicker of motion.
Rhea gasped from the ridge. "He's toying with it!"
Cor didn't answer. He was watching intently — measuring every movement, every decision.
Sirius ducked under another strike, rolled, and drove his blade up into the creature's exposed chest. The katana bit deep, sparks flying.
The beast screamed, twisting violently. Sirius tore the blade free, spun, and leapt backward as one massive hoof slammed down where he'd stood.
Dust exploded into the air.
Sirius vanished again.
---
From above, it was as if the world had gone still.
The Dualhorn roared and turned in confusion, its tusks carving trenches through the rock. The faint shimmer of movement darted across its blind spot — then silence.
Then — blood.
A single crimson line appeared along its throat.
The beast staggered, eyes wide, then collapsed in a thunderous crash.
Silence returned, broken only by the whisper of wind through the canyon.
Then Sirius appeared, standing beside the fallen monster, blade dripping dark ichor.
He exhaled softly, sheathing his sword in one smooth motion.
Rhea let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "He didn't even break a sweat."
Kael folded his arms. "He's not human."
Cor's gaze remained fixed on the boy. "He's learning to be more than that."
---
When Sirius climbed back to the ridge, the others were waiting.
Rhea shook her head. "Okay, that was terrifying."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You wanted me to lose?"
"No," she said quickly. "Just… maybe struggle a little. You make the rest of us look bad."
Kael grinned faintly. "That's because he's the only one crazy enough to take down a Dualhorn solo."
Sirius shrugged. "It wasn't as bad as I expected."
Rhea gawked. "You're joking."
Cor stepped forward, cutting them off. "Enough. This was an evaluation, not a competition."
He looked at Sirius. "You passed. Barely."
Sirius blinked. "Barely?"
"You relied too much on stealth. Against a smarter foe, you'd lose the element of surprise. Don't just vanish — control when you choose to be seen."
Sirius nodded slowly. "Understood."
Cor gave a single approving nod. "Good. Clean up. We're heading back."
---
That night, back in Insomnia, Sirius sat on his balcony with his katana across his lap. The blade reflected the city's glow — towers shimmering in the distance beneath the barrier's faint pulse.
He cleaned the weapon methodically, wiping away every trace of battle until the steel gleamed.
The reflection in it showed both faces — the boy and the predator.
He whispered softly, "Control when to vanish… and when to strike."
He thought of the Dualhorn's confusion, its final glance — the way fear flickered across even a monster's eyes when faced with death unseen.
It wasn't victory he felt. It was clarity.
This was what the shadows demanded — precision, not pride.
He understood that now.
---
The next morning, Cor met him at the training hall. The older man's expression was unreadable, but the faintest trace of pride flickered in his eyes.
"You did well," Cor said simply.
"Thank you."
"You also disobeyed my last order."
Sirius blinked. "Which one?"
"The one where I told you not to kill it."
Sirius hesitated. "It attacked first."
Cor's lips twitched. "That's what I told the council."
Sirius tilted his head. "There was a council?"
"Nothing official," Cor said. "But people are starting to talk again. Every mission you complete spreads your legend further. They're saying the White Wolf doesn't just fight — he hunts."
Sirius's eyes lowered. "I'm not hunting people."
Cor nodded. "Good. Keep it that way."
He turned to leave, then paused. "But remember — the more you succeed, the smaller your shadow becomes. Don't let the light catch you too early."
---
When Cor was gone, Sirius looked down at his hands. They no longer trembled from battle — only from stillness.
He clenched them slowly, feeling the pulse of power just beneath the skin.
He whispered to himself, "I'm not a weapon."
Then, softer: "Not yet."
He turned his gaze to the barrier outside the window — the ever-glowing dome that separated the city of light from the darkness beyond.
It shimmered like a mirror, and for a brief moment, his reflection blurred — his outline flickering between boy and shadow, light and silence.
He smiled faintly.
"White Wolf, huh?"
He looked out toward Leide's horizon, where the next hunt would one day await him.
"Let's see how far we can run."