The morning blow came faster than expected.
Adrian barely got his guard up in time. Marcus's fist grazed his jaw instead of connecting solidly. Progress, but not enough.
"Better," Marcus said without emotion. He circled Adrian like a predator assessing prey. "But still too slow."
They'd been sparring for an hour. Adrian's shirt was soaked through with sweat. His ribs ached from impacts he hadn't blocked quickly enough. But his body was responding better than yesterday. Faster. Stronger.
The binding is still changing me. Still adapting.
Marcus stopped circling. "That's enough for today."
Adrian lowered his guard, confused. They usually went until he could barely stand.
"You're coming on a hunt tonight."
The words hung in the air between them. Heavy with implication.
"Already?" Adrian's voice came out rougher than intended.
"Stage 1 Mangefor. Gutterwell district." Marcus walked to where his coat hung on the wall. "You'll observe. Stay back. Don't engage."
A real hunt. After what happened in the warehouse.
"Consider it education," Marcus continued, pulling on his coat. "You need to see what hunting actually looks like when it goes right."
Adrian's throat tightened. "What's a Mangefor?"
Marcus reached into his coat and produced a thin folder. Archive material. He tossed it to Adrian.
"Read. Report back in four hours with your analysis. I want to know you understand what we're facing."
He walked to the door, then paused.
"This isn't like the warehouse. This is controlled. Assessed. We know what we're hunting and where it is." His expression was unreadable. "But you still need to be prepared."
The door closed behind him. The lock clicked.
Adrian stood alone in the training room, holding the folder. His hands weren't shaking. That was progress too.
He opened it and began to read.
The archive file was thorough. Detailed. Brutal.
Adrian sat at the small desk in his quarters, the folder spread before him. His lamp burned low, casting shadows across pages filled with clinical descriptions of death.
Mangefor. Classification: Stage 1 Corrupted Creature.
The illustration showed something that might have been a dog once. Before corruption twisted it into something else. Too thin. Limbs elongated. Jaw unhinged. Eyes that reflected red in darkness.
They feed on fear. Literally. The terror of their prey sustains them.
Adrian read faster, absorbing details.
Ambush predators. Fast. Vicious in darkness. Vulnerable to silver like most corrupted creatures. Stage 1 classification meant dangerous to untrained civilians but manageable for Hunters with proper preparation.
The historical hunt reports were sobering. Eighty percent success rate sounded good until he read the casualty reports. Most deaths came from ambush. Hunters who underestimated the creature's speed or hunting instinct.
Twenty percent failure rate. One in five hunts goes wrong.
He took notes in the margins. Mangefor hunting patterns. Preferred terrain. Known weaknesses. Movement speed estimates. Kill methods.
By the time he finished, three hours had passed. His hand cramped from writing, but his mind was sharp. Focused.
This is what Marcus meant. Knowledge is survival. Understanding what you're facing before you face it.
Adrian closed the folder and stood. His body protested slightly. Still sore from morning training. But the ache was distant. Already fading as his enhanced healing continued its work.
He had one hour before meeting Marcus. Time enough to review his notes one more time.
I won't freeze again. I know what we're hunting. I know how it moves. How it kills.
…
The armoury was larger than Adrian expected.
Weapons lined the walls. Swords of varying lengths and styles. Rifles with modifications he couldn't identify. Crossbows with silver-tipped bolts. Knives. Daggers. Tools designed for one purpose: killing things that shouldn't exist.
Marcus stood near the back, talking to a broad-shouldered man with grey hair and a scar across his left eye.
"Blackstar," Marcus called. "This is Quartermaster Dane. He'll issue your equipment."
Dane looked Adrian up and down with the eye of someone who'd armed hundreds of Hunters. His expression suggested he found Adrian lacking.
"First hunt?" Dane's voice was gravel.
"No second."
"Observation only?"
"Yes."
"Then you won't need much." Dane walked to a locked cabinet and produced a key.
He set items on the counter between them with methodical precision.
A revolver. Similar to the one Adrian had dropped in the warehouse, but slightly smaller. Easier to conceal. Six chambers. Each loaded with a silver-laced bullet that gleamed in the lamplight.
A combat knife. Black handle. Eight-inch blade. Silver edge that caught the light wrong. Sharp enough that Adrian could see his reflection in the steel.
A flash grenade. Small. Compact. Dane demonstrated how to arm it with quick, efficient movements.
"Silver bullets," Dane said, tapping the revolver. "Standard issue. Won't kill anything powerful but it'll hurt them enough to make them reconsider. Aim for centre mass. Don't waste shots."
He picked up the knife. "Silver-edged. Good for close work if it comes to that. Which it shouldn't." His eye fixed on Adrian. "You're observation. Stay back. Let the Hunters do their job."
"Understood."
"The grenade is last resort. You pull that pin, you better have a damn good reason." Dane set it down carefully. "It'll blind anything with eyes for thirty seconds. Use that time to run."
Marcus stepped forward. "You won't need them. But carry them anyway."
"In case something goes wrong," Dane finished. His expression suggested things went wrong more often than anyone liked to admit.
Adrian holstered the revolver under his coat. The weight was familiar now. He'd carried one before. Dropped it when it mattered.
Not this time.
The knife went into a sheath at his belt. The grenade into his pocket.
"Does it often go wrong?" Adrian asked.
Dane's scarred face split into something that might have been a smile. "Only when it matters."
Marcus was already heading toward the door. "Carriage is waiting. Move."
…
The Vigil carriage was different from the one they'd taken to the warehouse.
Larger. More reinforced. The windows were smaller and covered with iron grating. The horses pulling it moved with supernatural silence.
Two Hunters waited inside. Both Stage 2, according to the insignia on their coats.
Hunter Garrett Chen. Broad-shouldered. Maybe thirty. Bound to The Crucible. His hands already had that faint orange glow Mara's had possessed before she'd been injured.
Hunter Sarah Lorne. Lean. Quick eyes. Bound to The Hunt. She studied Adrian with the same intensity Kane had shown. Evaluating. Measuring.
"Protocol," Marcus said as they boarded. "Stage 1 hunt requires minimum two Stage 2 Hunters and one Stage 3. That's us. Blackstar is observation only. He doesn't engage under any circumstances."
Chen nodded. Lorne's expression didn't change.
The carriage lurched into motion.
They rode through the city as dusk settled over Arathia. The transition from headquarters district to Gutterwell was stark.
Wealth gave way to poverty in the space of a few streets. Marble buildings became brick. Brick became rotting wood. Gas lamps became sparse. Then nonexistent.
Gutterwell.
The slums pressed close on both sides. Buildings leaned against each other like they were too tired to stand alone. The streets were narrow. Dark. The air stank of industrial waste and human desperation.
Smoke from a hundred coal fires hung low, mixing with factory smog. Adrian could barely see twenty feet through the haze.
"Three missing workers this week," Lorne said, checking a small notebook. "All night shift at the textile factory. Last one disappeared two days ago."
"Local authorities?" Chen asked.
"Didn't investigate. Poor factory workers don't matter to them." Lorne's voice was flat. "So the Vigil gets the contract."
Marcus sat across from Adrian, methodically checking his weapons. A silver-edged blade. Longer than a knife but shorter than a sword. He tested the edge with his thumb. Drew a thin line of blood. Nodded with satisfaction.
"Target is an abandoned factory. East side of Gutterwell. Used to process leather before it shut down five years ago." Marcus cleaned his blade and sheathed it. "Mangefor moved in sometime last month. Been feeding on workers from the active factories nearby."
"Just one?" Adrian asked.
"Assessment team confirmed single Mangefor. Stage 1. Fresh corruption." Marcus looked at him directly. "Should be straightforward. But stay alert anyway."
The carriage stopped at the edge of Gutterwell's industrial sector. Beyond, Adrian could see the skeletal remains of abandoned factories. Broken windows. Collapsed roofs. The ruins of economic collapse.
"We walk from here," Marcus said. "Quieter."
They exited into the gathering darkness.
The factory loomed ahead. Three stories of rotting brick and broken glass.
Marcus led. Lorne and Chen flanked him. Adrian brought up the rear, his hand unconsciously touching the revolver under his coat.
The sun was setting. Long shadows stretched across the cobblestones. The temperature dropped with each minute. Adrian's breath misted in the air.
Marcus stopped fifty feet from the entrance. Turned to face them.
"Stay behind me. Stay quiet. Don't use a weapon unless I'm down."
His eyes found Adrian's. "And if I'm down, run."
"Where?" Adrian asked.
Marcus pointed back the way they'd come. "Carriage. Driver will get you out."
"Understood?"
"Understood."
They approached the factory entrance. The door hung open on broken hinges. Darkness yawned beyond.
Marcus produced a small lamp. Oil-fed. The flame barely pushed back the shadows. Just enough to see a few feet ahead.
They entered.
The darkness swallowed them whole.
Adrian's Shadow Sight activated immediately. The world sharpened. Details emerged that Marcus's lamp couldn't reach.
Old machinery. Rusted vats that had once held leather treatment chemicals. Crates stacked haphazardly. Blood stains on the floor. Old ones and fresh ones.
Bones scattered in corners. Human bones.
I can see all of it. Every detail. While Marcus and the others are half-blind.
He didn't say anything. Just observed. Catalogued. Filed away information that might matter.
Marcus moved carefully. His lamp held low. Scanning shadows. Reading the environment like text.
Chen's hands glowed brighter. Ready to unleash fire. Lorne had drawn two knives. Silver-edged. Her stance was coiled. Ready to spring.
They crossed the main floor. Heading toward the back. Where the reports said the Mangefor had made its nest.
The smell grew worse. Rot. Decay. Fear. The Mangefor fed on terror and the scent of it lingered in the air like a physical presence.
Adrian's heart pounded. But his hands were steady. His breathing controlled.
I'm not freezing. I'm tense but functional. That's progress.
They reached the back section. Marcus raised his hand. Everyone stopped.
Bodies.
Three of them. The missing factory workers. Partially eaten. Fresh enough that blood still pooled beneath them.
"It's here," Marcus whispered. "Close."
Adrian's Shadow Sight caught movement above. In the rafters.
Something uncoiled from the darkness. Too thin. Too long. Red eyes opening like wounds in the shadows.
The Mangefor.
It dropped without sound. Landing behind Marcus in a crouch.
But Marcus was already moving. He'd seen something. Some tell Adrian had missed.
The Hunter spun. His silver blade clearing its sheath in one fluid motion.
The Mangefor lunged. Fast. Viciously fast.
Marcus was faster.
His blade caught the creature mid-leap. Silver carved through corrupted flesh. Black ichor sprayed.
The Mangefor twisted in midair. Impossibly agile. It landed. Circled. Those red eyes fixed on Marcus with predatory focus.
Chen moved left. Lorne right. Standard flanking formation.
The creature realized it was surrounded. Tried to bolt toward the exit.
Marcus was already there. Blade ready. Cutting off escape.
The Mangefor had nowhere to go.
Adrian watched every detail. How Marcus predicted its movements by reading body language. How he used the environment. Positioned himself near support beams that limited the creature's options. How he didn't waste a single motion.
The Mangefor feinted toward Chen. Fire erupted from the Hunter's hands, driving it back.
Toward Lorne. Her knives flashed. Silver kissed corrupted flesh. More ichor.
Toward Marcus. The trap closing.
Three strikes. Precise. Devastating.
The first cut hamstrings. The creature collapsed.
The second severed a foreleg. Movement impossible.
The third punched through where a heart should be. Silver finding the corruption's core.
The Mangefor convulsed. Black mist poured from its wounds. The body dissolved. Leaving nothing but stained cobblestones.
Over in thirty seconds. Maybe less.
Marcus sheathed his blade. Checked his team with quick efficiency.
"Chen?"
"Fine."
"Lorne?"
"Good."
His eyes found Adrian. "You alright?"
Adrian realized he hadn't moved. Hadn't drawn his weapon. Had just stood there watching.
But this time it was different. He wasn't frozen. Wasn't paralyzed. He was observing. Learning. Exactly what Marcus had told him to do.
"Yeah. I'm... yeah."
"Good." Marcus walked to the bodies. "Now help me with these."
Adrian moved forward. "What about them?"
"Factory authorities won't move them. Workers don't matter to them." Marcus knelt by the first body. His expression was grim. "So we do."
It was grim work. The bodies were heavy. Broken. The Mangefor had fed on them. Fear and flesh both.
But necessary work. Someone had to care about the people who died in darkness. If not the authorities, then the Vigil.
This is part of hunting too. Not just killing creatures. But dealing with what they leave behind.
They carried the bodies out. Loaded them onto the carriage. The driver didn't react. Just made notes in a small ledger. Another night. More dead.
The ride back was silent. Adrian sat beside Marcus. Processing what he'd seen.
"Questions?" Marcus asked after several minutes.
"You made it look easy."
"It was easy. Stage 1, alone, cornered." Marcus cleaned his blade with a cloth. "It never had a chance."
"What if it was Stage 2?"
"I'd have brought backup. More Hunters. Or not taken the contract at all."
"That simple?"
"That simple." Marcus put away his blade. "Know your limits. Don't exceed them."
He paused. "Unless you have no choice."
Adrian filed this away. Preparation. Assessment. Execution. Know what you're facing. Know your capabilities. Act accordingly.
Don't be a hero. Be smart.
They returned to headquarters. Reported to Warden Cross in his office.
"Clean kill?" Cross asked. He didn't look up from his paperwork.
"Yes. No complications."
"Casualties?"
"Three civilian dead before we arrived. Workers from the textile factory."
Cross made a note. "Initiates's performance?"
"Adequate. He observed properly. Didn't interfere."
Cross looked at Adrian directly for the first time. "Observations?"
Adrian thought carefully. "The Mangefor was faster than the archive reports suggested. More agile."
Cross's expression didn't change but something shifted in his eyes. Approval, maybe. "Good. Never trust reports completely. Reality always varies."
He waved his hand. Dismissal. "Get some rest. Both of you."
They left. Walking through empty corridors. Most of headquarters was asleep. Only a few night shift Hunters moving through the passages.
Marcus stopped outside Adrian's door. "You did well tonight."
It was the first compliment Marcus had given him since Elena's death.
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly. You followed orders. Stayed back. Observed without interfering." Marcus's expression was unreadable. "That's harder than it sounds. Especially after what happened in the warehouse."
"Get some rest. Training at dawn."
Marcus walked away. His footsteps fading into the distance.
Adrian entered his room. Locked the door. Sat on his bed.
He realised his hands weren't shaking. His heart rate was steady. The tight knot in his chest that had been there since Elena's death had loosened slightly.
I saw Marcus hunt and kill something supernatural. And I wasn't useless. I observed. I learned.
That's progress.
Adrian stood. Walked to his desk. Pulled out paper and pen. Marcus had told him to document everything. Every hunt. Every detail.
He began writing. Describing the Mangefor's behaviour. Marcus's techniques. The way the team moved in coordination. The kill sequence.
His hand moved across the page. Steady. Clear. Detailed.
Halfway through, he realised something.
He was writing in near-total darkness. The lamp sat unlit on the corner of his desk. The curtains were closed. No light source in the room.
But he could see perfectly. Every word. Every line. The pen's position. The paper's edge.
Shadow Sight. Completely reliable now. No longer requiring conscious activation. Just there. Working. As natural as breathing.
This is my Dao. Whatever it is, it lets me see in darkness.
That's useful. That could keep me alive.
Adrian continued writing. The darkness no longer bothering him. No longer something to fear.
Just another tool. Another advantage. Another piece of what he was becoming.
Outside his window, night settled over Arathia. In the streets below, people slept. Unaware of what hunted in the darkness. Unaware of those who hunted the hunters.
Better that way, Kane had said.
Adrian finished his report. Set down his pen. Looked at his hands in the darkness.
Tomorrow would bring new training. New challenges. More hunts.
But tonight, he'd taken a step forward.