Warehouse Row smelled of salt, rust, and secrets. Every step I took toward the old dockside building was a reminder: this wasn't just a fight. It was a message — to Aric, to the Council, and to Rhea Veylan herself.
Ryn's voice was a whisper in the dark. "You really want to walk into her lair like this? No backup, no escape plan?" Her eyes flicked toward the shadows beyond the cracked window.
I gave her a tight smile. "Sometimes you have to show your hand. Let the hunter know the prey is ready to fight back."
Mira shifted beside me, crossbow loaded and ready, eyes sharp beneath her hood. Loran was already scanning the street for watchers.
The warehouse door creaked as I pushed it open, the smell of damp wood and oil thick inside. Lanterns hung from the rafters, their flickering light casting long, uneasy shadows. Somewhere deeper, a metal case snapped shut.
"Showtime," I muttered.
The floor was cluttered with crates and coils of rope, the perfect place for an ambush. I moved cautiously, every sense alert. My Soul Resonance hummed faintly beneath my skin — a reminder that I was no longer the broken man Aric left to die.
I had reached C-Rank. I could hold the power longer, strike faster, and endure more than before. Not enough to be invincible, but enough to survive an encounter with a Hunter.
A soft noise echoed from the far corner — the whisper of leather sliding against wood. I tensed, fingers tightening around my sword's hilt.
"She's here," I said.
Ryn slipped into the shadows, blades glinting faintly as she prepared to flank. Mira covered the rear. I moved forward alone.
The room suddenly felt smaller — the air thick with tension. Then, from the darkness, a figure emerged.
Rhea Veylan.
Black leather wrapped her lithe frame, steel glinting at her hip and a hooked blade strapped tight. Her eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto mine with an unsettling calm.
"You're the ghost stirring trouble," she said softly, voice like a razor's edge. "Kael. The fallen legend."
I matched her gaze, unflinching. "Not fallen. Just rising."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "I was sent to finish you. But you're still breathing. That's... disappointing."
"Not for long," I replied, flexing my fingers around my sword.
She moved then — lightning fast. Crossbow raised, fired. The bolt hissed through the air. I dodged, feeling the rush of wind as it grazed past my arm.
The fight began.
Soul Resonance flared inside me — energy weaving through muscle and bone, sharpening every movement. I lunged forward, sword cutting arcs through the dim light. Rhea parried with her hooked blade, the clash of steel ringing loud and raw.
She was fast, precise — an S-Rank killer born. But I was no longer the cripple she'd been sent to kill. Every strike I made was measured, honed through months of pain and training. My body remembered the rhythm of battle.
We danced a deadly game through crates and shadows, neither giving ground. I could feel my rank pushing me — a constant reminder that I'd earned this strength the hard way. The power to meet her blade, to deflect death, and to fight back.
A swift sweep from her hooked blade caught me off guard, slashing across my forearm. Pain flared sharp, but I pushed through it, activating my Resonance deeper.
My sword glowed faintly, the air around it shimmering. I swung harder, forcing her back.
Her eyes flickered — respect? Surprise? Or something darker?
"You're stronger," she admitted, breathing heavier.
"Stronger and just getting started," I said.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Figures poured in — Council thugs, mercenaries, the kind of disposable enemies Aric sent to watch and kill. Rhea didn't hesitate; she vanished into the shadows, leaving me surrounded.
Loran's voice crackled in my earpiece. "You're pinned. No easy way out."
Ryn's knives whispered death, taking down one attacker silently. Mira's crossbow bolts found their marks in the gloom.
I steeled myself. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
I slashed through the nearest thug, feeling my C-Rank power surge in my limbs. Every rank gain wasn't just strength; it was control. Control over my Resonance, over my body, over the chaos.
With a roar, I pushed forward — not just fighting to survive, but to send a message.
Rhea Veylan might be the Council's deadliest hunter. But I was no longer the prey.
I was the rising storm.