Ravenoir Guild’s Tavern – City of Edanis.

  The long trek down the mountain had been agonizingly silent. When we finally pushed through the heavy oak doors of the Guild’s Tavern, the chaotic noise of the main hall washed over us. I shot a harsh, sideways glare at the red-haired archer walking beside me.

  I need to figure out her endgame. Why is a Glider slumming it in a rookie squad?

  Mathilda caught my gaze. Without breaking her innocent stride, a subtle, predatory smirk curled the corner of her lips.

  The bastard. She’s actively mocking me.

  "Mentor!"

  A high-pitched shout cut through the tavern's din. I snapped my attention forward to find Patrice waving her arms frantically from a crowded table. Kenny and Hoiler were already seated beside her, nursing mugs of water.

  I marched directly toward them, Mathilda trailing silently in my shadow. "I thought you three were going to sprint all the way back here to train?" I asked, looking down at Hoiler.

  "We were, sir! But the Guild Master sent word ordering us to stay put at this table until you arrived," Hoiler explained, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

  I furrowed my brow, a cold knot forming in my stomach. "Why?"

  Hoiler shrugged, his armor clinking. "I have no idea. That’s just what the desk administrator told us."

  "Excuse me, Sir Ramond."

  I pivoted. A pale, nervous guild administrator was standing a few paces away, wringing his hands.

  "What is it?"

  "The Guild Master requests that you report to his private office immediately upon your arrival."

  I gave a curt nod. "Thank you."

  The administrator bowed hastily and melted back into the crowd.

  I looked back at my battered squad. "Wait for me right here, kids. We will conduct a full debrief when I get back."

  "Yes, sir!"

  I turned my back on them and navigated through the crowded tavern, pushing open the heavy, reinforced door to the administrative wing. When I stepped into Agon's private office, the Guild Master and Tris were already waiting for me.

  I stopped just inside the doorway. Why does the air in here feel so suffocatingly heavy?

  I glanced at Tris. Usually quick with a playful insult, she stood rigidly against the far wall. Her expression was completely closed off, and she kept her eyes glued to the floorboards, deliberately avoiding my gaze. Something was very, very wrong.

  I shut the door, cutting off the tavern noise, and strode toward Agon, who was casually leaning against the edge of his massive mahogany desk.

  "What do you need?" I asked, stripping all respect from my tone.

  Agon chuckled—a deep, rumbling sound in his chest. He stood up to his full height, casting a long shadow over the floor. "Did you leave your manners in the forest, kid?"

  "I left them right next to your garbage intel, Guild Master," I fired back. "Your scouts are either blind or incompetent if they can’t distinguish between an Alpha Werewolf and a Moon-lurker."

  The amusement vanished from Agon's face. He stared me down, trying to crush me with the sheer weight of his Legend-tier presence. I didn't blink. I locked my eyes onto his until he finally broke the silence, turning his back to slowly lower himself into his heavy leather chair.

  "How is your squad?" he asked. "Any casualties?"

  "None."

  "Any tactical difficulties during the operation?"

  "None."

  "Do you harbor any suspicions regarding the parameters of the contract?"

  "Everything about it."

  "Explain."

  I crossed my arms, slipping seamlessly into the analytical mindset of a hunter. "The contract itself was a setup. First, the physical discrepancy between a standard Alpha and a Moon-lurker is massive; mistaking one for the other is tactical nonsense. Second, a Moon-lurker nesting in a shallow surface cave is a bizarre anomaly, specifically because it was hiding alone without a subservient pack. Finally, the brand on its forehead. I've never seen a mark like it. But a deep-cave apex predator doesn't just wander up to the surface and sit quietly by itself. That brand was a tether. Someone intentionally lured it to that exact coordinate."

  My jaw locked tight. I stepped right up to the edge of the mahogany desk, planting my hands on the wood. "So, my verdict is this: you knew exactly what was in that cave all along, didn't you?"

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Agon's face broke into a slow, terrifying grin. A dry chuckle rumbled from his throat. "Sharp. Extremely sharp."

  "Were you trying to butcher those greenhorns?" I demanded, my voice rising. "We were incredibly lucky it targeted me first. If it had targeted one of them, they would have been killed instantly."

  "But you managed to kill it, didn't you?" Agon asked, his grin fading into a look of intense, calculated scrutiny.

  "It took everything we had to put it down," I rasped, my knuckles turning white against the desk.

  "We?" Agon chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "Humble. I like it."

  I let out a heavy, frustrated exhale, refusing to play his political games. "Is there anything else? I need to debrief my team so they can finally get some rest."

  "...None."

  I turned on my heel, heading for the door.

  "Excellent work today... Mentor," Agon called out.

  I paused, throwing a stiff nod over my shoulder. I glanced at Tris one last time. She was still hugging the wall, her eyes firmly averted, looking like she was attending a funeral.

  What the hell is going on with her?

  Shaking my head to clear the paranoia, I ripped the door open and marched back out into the tavern.

  Stepping out of the office, I glanced toward the team. They looked completely bonded with one another, Mathilda included.

  It’s hard to be hostile toward her when she blends in so perfectly.

  I rubbed my temples. Fuck. I need to watch her closely.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Mathilda’s eyes flicked past Patrice’s shoulder and locked onto mine. Beneath the cover of the crowded tavern, her innocent mask melted away. She flashed me a dark, intensely mocking smirk, her eyes gleaming with shared secrets.

  My jaw locked tight. I need to stay calm. I have to stop reacting to her taunts. She clearly wants me to explode.

  I walked over to their table. "Listen up, kids. Great work today. I’m proud of your team effort."

  Their eyes lit up.

  "But we won’t lose our momentum now," I continued. "We have six days left before we venture into the dark caves. We will alternate between hunting and training continuously. Tomorrow, we train at first light as usual. The day after, we hunt. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Great. Enjoy the rest of your day." I walked away from the table.

  For the remaining days, the alternating schedule worked flawlessly. During training, I could see tangible improvement in each of them. Hoiler surprisingly managed to control his aura with much more finesse. Kenny handled his magic better, though his strained expressions told me he still struggled to suppress his emotions when the mana spiraled in his core. Patrice, on the other hand, proved to be highly tactical when she fought with a clear head.

  As for Mathilda, she simply matched her 'progress' to the others. I had no reason to teach her anything; I could only observe her and wait to uncover her true motives.

  During our mission days, we took on easier contracts compared to the first one, like hunting an Apex Piglet and exterminating a goblin nest. Their teamwork smoothed out. Coordinated strikes between Hoiler and Patrice became the highlight of our unit. Kenny’s magical prowess became our trump card; the trajectory of his mana spear grew faster and more precise, even if he could only cast it three times a day. As for Mathilda, she became our primary tracker—exactly as she should be.

  The day before our first official deployment, I gave the team a rest day to pack and prepare. Since the guild had already given me our orders, I returned to the forest outpost to gather my things.

  "Deploying tomorrow, lad?" Hans called out, leaning in the doorway of my room.

  "Yeah, old man," I answered, stuffing my gear into my pack.

  "Then take this with you." I turned around just as he tossed a small object to me.

  I caught it. "What is it?"

  "It’s a Wayward Stone," he said. "It was my amulet back when I was still an active Vanguard."

  I examined the amulet. It looked like a mundane gray rock set inside a steel ring. "What does it do?"

  "It acts as a guide. It will glow if you walk into an illusion zone."

  I squinted. "An illusion zone?"

  He nodded. "You’ve never traveled inside a dark cave, right? They are like dark mazes with multiple layers of spatial illusions." He walked into my room and sat heavily on a wooden stool. "You must avoid illusion spaces no matter what, Ramond. They will become your eternal prison."

  "But you said it only glows when I step inside one, right? It doesn't detect where they are beforehand."

  "True. If you happen to step inside one momentarily, you’ll be fine. But if you venture too far into the illusion, you’ll never find the exit."

  I looked at the amulet for a long moment. "Thanks, old man."

  He nodded. "Where is your first mission tomorrow?"

  "South Nirwall."

  His eyes widened in alarm. "Don’t tell me... inside the Ballenor Mountain Range?"

  "Yes. Inside the Nirwall Forest, to be precise."

  "By the Goddess! Why would they send your team there?!" He shot to his feet.

  "What of it?"

  He rubbed his face anxiously. "Ramond, that’s Draconic territory."

  "Don’t worry. The report says the dark cave anomaly was spotted at the very edge of the Nirwall Forest. We won’t be venturing up into the hills."

  "You really don’t understand how the dark caves work, do you?"

  I looked at him, waiting.

  "Dark caves act like portals. If you walk inside one, you travel through the darkness, and the exit can spit you out in a completely different location."

  "Are you suggesting it's possible for us to end up inside the mountain caverns?"

  "Yes," he answered with absolute certainty.

  I took a deep breath. "It doesn’t matter. It is our mission, Hans. Don’t worry. My priority is to destroy the core totem and get away from that place as fast as possible."

  He grabbed my arm tightly, his expression grim. "Listen to me. If you end up in Draconic territory, run. Mark the cave entrance and return to the guild immediately. Understood?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, Hans."

  "Good. And never take off that amulet!"

  "Thank you, Hans. Really."

  He nodded gruffly. "Now get some rest. The journey to South Nirwall takes four days. Save your energy."

  He walked out, leaving me alone in the quiet room.

  A subtle, melancholic smile touched my lips as I looked down at the Wayward Stone in my palm. I slipped the leather cord over my neck, letting the cold steel rest against my chest.

  Thank you, Hans. You’ve been more of a father to me than anyone.

  I sat on the edge of the mattress, looking around the small, cramped room one last time. It smelled of pine, old leather, and sweat. Memories of my very first day as an eager trainee, bleeding through the trials just to become a lowly guide, flooded my mind. This tiny room had been the silent witness to my struggles, my hidden tears, and my relentless training. It had been my only safe haven.

  I laid my body back against the mattress, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be my fresh start. The true beginning of my path to becoming the greatest hunter.