The warehouse still smelled of rain and burnt oil, the acrid sting clinging to my clothes and skin. The fight with Rhea Veylan was over — for now. She had vanished into the night like smoke, but the mark she left behind burned hotter than any wound.
I sank down on a battered crate, my breath ragged, muscles screaming from the rush of Soul Resonance I'd poured into every strike. The pain in my forearm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside me. That fire, the raw pulse of power growing stronger with every battle, was no longer something to fear. It was my weapon.
Ryn was nearby, methodically cleaning her knives, her eyes sharp beneath the hood that masked her face. She said nothing, but I could feel her calculating. Calculating how soon Rhea would come back, calculating how ready I was for the next round.
Mira was quieter than usual, sitting cross-legged with a small pouch of herbs and bandages. She didn't meet my gaze as she cleaned the dirt from my wound and stitched the torn skin with practiced hands. Her silence was a weight heavier than words.
Loran stood off to the side, his fingers tapping quickly on the small communicator in his palm, his face lit by the dim glow of the screen. The network was alive tonight, buzzing with the whispers of the underworld — my name, growing louder in the shadows.
I let my eyes drift shut for a moment, feeling the cold sweat on my brow. The fight had pushed me—pushed my Soul Resonance to the edge of control—but I hadn't broken. Not yet. I was rising.
"Rhea's not just any Hunter," I said, breaking the silence. My voice was rough, but steady. "She's Aric's weapon. A blade honed to cut deeper than anyone I've faced."
Ryn's gaze flicked up, sharp and cold. "And she's coming back. You know that."
I nodded. "She has to. Her contract isn't just a kill order—it's a message. Aric's way of telling me I'm still alive. Still a threat."
Mira finally looked up, eyes dark and thoughtful. "She's efficient. No hesitation, no mercy. You got lucky this time."
"Luck's a thin shield." I flexed my fingers, feeling the hum of power beneath my skin. "I can't rely on luck anymore. I have to be stronger."
Loran's voice cut in, low but urgent. "I've spread the word. Our contacts in the city's depths are talking. They're calling you a ghost rising from the ashes. A storm breaking over the High Council."
I smirked despite myself. "Ghosts are forgotten. Storms change everything."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then let's make sure the storm hits hard."
The room fell quiet again, the rain outside slowing to a mist. I could hear the distant sounds of Valenport—the faint cries of the desperate, the clatter of boots on wet cobblestones, the ever-present hum of power and corruption seeping through every street.
Ryn stepped closer, her voice low. "You're pushing yourself too hard. You're barely C-Rank now, but you're fighting like an S. That kind of strain will break you."
I met her eyes, raw determination burning behind mine. "Then I'll break and rebuild. Over and over. Until I'm ready to take down Aric himself."
She said nothing, but the sharp edge in her gaze softened just a fraction.
Mira packed away her supplies, standing to join us. "We all have to be ready. Rhea's arrival means the Council's watching us closer. We can't afford mistakes."
Loran's fingers stopped moving, and he looked at me. "You're rising fast, Kael. But Aric's reach is long. This fight isn't just about survival anymore. It's about outsmarting a man who knows your every move."
I swallowed the bitter truth in his words. The path ahead was darker than I'd imagined. The Council's corruption wasn't just in the streets—it was in every whisper, every shadow, every blade waiting to strike.
But I was no longer the broken man they left for dead.
I stood, feeling the raw pulse of Soul Resonance surge stronger through my veins. C-Rank wasn't just a title—it was a turning point. A promise that I was growing, that I was becoming the storm the Council feared.
I looked at my companions—Ryn, Mira, Loran—and for the first time in months, I felt something close to hope.
"We're just getting started," I said, voice steady. "The Council will learn what it means to face a warrior who refuses to die."
Outside, the city waited, blind and unsuspecting.
And I would be its reckoning.