The pressure changed.
It wasn't louder. It wasn't brighter. It didn't explode outward.
It collapsed inward.
Ash felt it even before he understood it. The air tightened, the battlefield drawing a sharp breath it could not release. Shadows that had been screaming moments ago went silent, folding neatly back toward Lunaria's form as if obeying a final command.
Lunaria stopped moving.
The Queen's special son sensed it immediately.
For the first time since its birth, the monster felt something worse than fear.
Finality.
"You've had enough time," Lunaria said quietly.
His voice carried no effort. No strain. It wasn't raised, yet it cut through the chaos with absolute clarity, reaching the monster's core without resistance.
The special ant shrieked and lunged, throwing everything it had left into one last charge. Abyssal plates cracked and reformed. Chaos energy flared wildly, burning unstable and desperate. It crossed the distance in less than a blink, claws tearing forward with the intent to erase Lunaria from existence.
Lunaria moved once.
Not fast.
Perfectly.
He stepped inside the strike, knife gliding upward in a single clean motion. No wasted movement. No flourish. Shadows wrapped the blade like silk as chaos condensed into a razor-thin line along its edge.
The cut was silent.
The ant froze mid-motion.
Then its upper body slid apart.
The blade continued forward, piercing deep into the creature's core before it could even fall. Lunaria's hand plunged into the opening he created, fingers closing around something hot, heavy, and pulsing.
The core.
He ripped it free.
A second motion—precise, deliberate—and his knife sank into the monster's chest cavity again. This time he twisted, severing the heart with surgical finality. The abyssal organ burst apart in his grip, dissolving into raw energy that immediately flowed toward him.
The Queen's special son didn't scream.
It simply… ended.
Its body collapsed into ash and fragments of corrupted shell, disintegrating before it even hit the ground. The battlefield fell deathly silent, the oppressive presence vanishing in an instant.
At the center of it all, Lunaria stood unmoving.
Abyssal and chaos power surged toward him like a tidal wave.
He didn't resist.
He absorbed.
Shadows coiled inward, feeding into his body. Chaos fire poured into his veins, refining itself the moment it touched him. The System hummed softly, not warning, not resisting—aligning.
> [Abyssal Core: Assimilated]
[Chaos Source: Integrated]
[User power density increased beyond previous parameters.]
Lunaria exhaled slowly.
The pressure didn't vanish.
It deepened.
Ash was the first to realize something was wrong.
He lifted his head cautiously—and froze.
Lunaria had turned.
He was looking at them.
At Ash. At Kael. At Riven.
The surviving hunters felt it instantly.
The aura shifted—not outward, not crushing.
It focused.
Ash's breath caught in his throat. His instincts screamed danger, but his body refused to retreat. There was something magnetic in Lunaria's presence now, something that pulled rather than pushed.
Lunaria walked toward them.
Each step was unhurried. Casual. His knife hung loosely at his side, shadows still clinging to the blade like a living thing. His silver hair—shorter now, uneven from the cut—framed his face in a way that stripped away innocence and left only quiet intensity.
Kael swallowed hard.
"This… feels different," he muttered, unable to look away.
Riven clenched his fists, heart pounding. "He's not targeting us," he said slowly. "He's… inviting."
Lunaria stopped a few steps away.
Up close, the pressure was worse—not overwhelming, but intimate. It pressed against their senses, brushing their awareness, sliding just beneath the skin.
His gaze lingered on Ash first.
"You were watching closely," Lunaria said softly.
Ash stiffened. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His pulse was loud in his ears, heat creeping up his neck despite himself.
Lunaria tilted his head slightly, studying the reaction with quiet curiosity.
Then he moved.
Without warning, he closed the distance, blade flashing—but instead of striking, he twisted past Ash's guard, the flat of the knife brushing his collarbone lightly. The touch sent a shiver through Ash's entire body, not pain, not injury—awareness.
Ash stumbled back, breath hitching. "L-Lunaria—"
Lunaria was already gone.
He appeared in front of Kael next, moving close enough that Kael could feel the heat of chaos energy rolling off him. Lunaria's free hand rose, stopping just short of Kael's chest, shadow flickering along his knuckles.
"You hesitate," Lunaria murmured. "Even now."
Kael forced himself to swing.
Lunaria sidestepped effortlessly, guiding Kael's arm aside with two fingers, spinning him with a smooth, controlled motion that felt less like combat and more like a dance. Kael barely caught himself, heart racing, cheeks warm for reasons he didn't understand.
Riven lunged next, teeth clenched, blade flashing.
Lunaria met him head-on.
Steel clashed once—then Lunaria stepped inside Riven's reach, knife stopping just short of his throat. Their faces were inches apart. Riven froze, breath shallow, eyes locked onto Lunaria's silver gaze.
"You're steady," Lunaria said. "I like that."
Riven swallowed hard.
None of them could bring themselves to strike again.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't weakness.
It was the way Lunaria moved—how every step, every glance, every near-miss felt intentional, personal. Like he was testing not their strength, but their reactions. Their resolve. Their hearts.
Ash finally found his voice. "Lunaria… stop."
Lunaria turned back to him, expression unreadable.
The aura softened.
Not weaker.
Focused.
"This is control," Lunaria said quietly. "What I've gained. What I can choose to do."
He lowered his knife.
The shadows receded. Chaos dimmed to a gentle glow beneath his skin.
Ash exhaled shakily. Kael straightened. Riven wiped sweat from his brow, forcing his breathing to slow.
They were alive.
Unharmed.
And painfully aware of one thing.
The battle had ended long ago.
What stood before them now was not just a hunter.
It was Lunaria—someone who could destroy them… or draw them closer with the same terrifying ease.
And none of them were sure which was more dangerous.