The second chime wasn't just sound—it was pressure.
It spread out through the air like a ripple through oil, heavy and slow, carrying weight that the body recognized before the mind could name it.
Qin Mo's pulse stuttered. The shard against his ribs heated in reply, trying to drag him toward the source. The copper-eyed thing tilted its head, as if listening to a voice only it could hear.
"They've marked you," it said, and for the first time, there was a flicker of interest instead of hunger. "You must have stolen something worth the chase."
The robed figures straightened as one. The grid lines underfoot surged brighter, flowing outward like veins toward the basin's edge. Somewhere up the slope, the bells rang a third time.
[Predator's Ledger: Secondary signal — unknown caster. Harmonic match 63%.]
Unknown meant dangerous. A harmonic match meant the bells in his pouch were not trophies—they were bait.
The copper-eyed thing stepped between him and the basin's exit. "You walk out, they take you. You stay, I take you."
Qin Mo kept his sword up, shifting his stance toward the cooler seam in the stone. The vent dulled the burning in his veins, but it wouldn't last. "Then you'd better be faster than them."
The first figure moved—a blur of black wool and steel. Qin Mo cut low at the knee. Bone met blade, and the figure folded with a cry. The grid flared under the fallen body, feeding light back into the spiral.
[Resonance chain restored 4%.]
Damn. They weren't just channeling power—they were using their own bodies as anchors. Every kill risked reinforcing the network.
The copper-eyed thing lunged. Qin Mo sidestepped toward a monolith, letting the Flame Step crackle just enough to break the lines at his feet. Sparks scattered up the carved surface. The runes hissed and went dark where heat met frost.
The thing's claw caught only his sleeve. He turned with the pull, slashing for the exposed ribs beneath the pelt. Steel bit halfway before catching on something harder than bone. The rebound numbed his fingers.
"You think steel will end me?"
Qin Mo feinted right, then threw himself left toward the altar. He wasn't aiming for the thing—he was aiming for the center of the spiral. If the grid's heart broke, the whole basin might collapse.
Two robed figures interposed, staves snapping forward in perfect unison. He ducked the first, caught the second between blade and guard, and shoved. The staff splintered, spilling light like molten glass. The nearest lines guttered.
[Resonance chain disrupted. Link strength reduced 11%.]
The copper-eyed thing hissed and came straight for him, abandoning the spiral's protection. The pelt's mane blazed in sudden heat. Qin Mo recognized the movement—a predator throwing all its weight into a final kill.
He braced—
The fourth chime cut through the basin like a knife through silk.
Every robed figure froze. The grid shivered. Even the copper-eyed thing's momentum faltered, steps dragging as if mired in deep snow. The shard in his chest seared.
[External override in progress. Binding threshold: 72%.]
Qin Mo's vision doubled. In one layer, he saw the basin, the enemy, the red lines of the grid. In the other, a second set of lines unfolded from the sky downward—white, thin, and impossibly precise, latching onto his limbs, spine, jaw.
Not just a tracker. A leash.
The copper-eyed thing's grin widened. "Looks like you're theirs."
The first white line locked around his right wrist. Cold raced up the arm, severing the Flame Step's flow. He had seconds before both hands were bound.
The altar was five paces away. Whatever power was in the grid, it was rooted there. If he could shatter the base, the leash might lose its anchor.
He lunged.
The copper-eyed thing lunged.
They met halfway, his blade catching its claw in a spray of sparks. For a breath, the strength between them was balanced. Then the pelt shifted—alive, constricting like a serpent. Pressure built on his ribs. The white lines tightened.
[Binding threshold: 81%.]
He shifted his grip, turned the bind into a pivot, and slammed his heel into the thing's knee. The joint gave just enough for him to wrench free and throw himself at the altar.
Flame Step flared once, hard. Heat raced up the carved surface, chasing frost out of the grooves. He brought the blade down with both hands. Steel met stone with a scream. Cracks spidered from the point of impact.
[Resonance chain collapsing. Link strength reduced 41%.]
The white lines wavered.
The copper-eyed thing roared and came again, too fast to fully block. Claws raked his shoulder, hot and cold at once. Pain flared sharp enough to make the altar blur.
[Binding threshold: 89% → 64%.]
He swung again. The altar split down the middle, the sound like bone breaking. Red light poured upward and scattered into the night air. The robed figures fell as if strings had been cut.
The leash burned away.
The copper-eyed thing stopped mid-step, chest heaving. For the first time, it looked less certain. "Not prey," it said again, but there was something in the tone—acknowledgment, or maybe promise.
It backed away into the shadow of a monolith, pelt smoldering. "Another time."
The bells rang a fifth time, far closer now.
[Predator's Ledger: Proximity alert — hostile human presence within 300m.]
Qin Mo wiped blood from his eyes and turned toward the pass. Whoever carried those bells wasn't here for the copper-eyed thing. They were here for him.
The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of pine smoke and horse sweat. Torches licked over the rim of the basin. Voices carried—calm, measured, too disciplined for common hunters.
He tightened his grip on the blade. His legs ached, his shoulder burned, and the shard at his ribs still pulsed with alien heat.
But he was not prey.