One day until the Silver Claw Gang returned. One day to prepare for violence that had become inevitable the moment Hunter refused to pay tribute to people who were functionally identical to what he was becoming.
The irony wasn't lost on him. Bandits fighting bandits over territorial rights. Like watching yourself in a mirror and attacking your reflection for looking too similar. Corporate rivalry except with swords and spiritual energy instead of quarterly earnings reports and hostile takeovers.
Hunter stood on the wall at dawn, watching the settlement wake. The stolen silk was stored in the waystation. The stolen silver was in Qiu's ledgers. The stolen lives were in his head on endless repeat. The merchant woman's face. Her tears. Her broken voice thanking him for letting her survive her own destruction.
First real robbery. Luna said it got easier.
