The training room was empty when Adrian arrived at dawn.
He stood in the doorway, confused. Marcus was always here first. Always waiting with that patient, evaluating expression.
But today the room was dark. Silent. No practice weapons laid out. No preparation for sparring.
Footsteps behind him.
Adrian turned. Marcus walked down the corridor carrying a bundle of dark cloth.
"Today's different," Marcus said without preamble. "No combat drills."
"What then?"
"Field education. You need to see something." Marcus stopped in front of him and held out the bundle. Street clothes. A simple shirt, trousers, coat. Nothing that marked them as Vigil.
Adrian took the clothes carefully. "See what?"
"The world beyond Vigil walls. The reality we don't advertise." Marcus's expression was unreadable. "Change. We leave in an hour."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere the Vigil pretends doesn't exist." Marcus turned and walked back down the corridor. "But it does. And you need to understand it."
He disappeared around a corner before Adrian could ask more questions.
Adrian stood alone in the empty training room, holding the street clothes. His mind raced.
He's being deliberately vague. That means whatever we're doing, it's not been sanctioned
But he's taking me anyway. Why?
He changed quickly in his cell. The street clothes felt strange after weeks in Vigil uniforms and training gear. Rougher fabric. Looser fit. Like wearing someone else's skin.
Adrian met Marcus at a side entrance he'd never used before. Not the main gates with their guards and official scrutiny. This was a service door, plain and unremarkable.
Marcus was already there, also in street clothes. He looked different without the Hunter's coat. Almost normal.
"Follow my lead," Marcus said as he opened the door. "Don't draw attention. Don't use any abilities unless I tell you to."
They stepped out into the grey morning.
...
They walked.
No carriage. No official transport. Just two men on foot, moving through Arathia as the city woke around them.
Evening was settling by the time they reached their destination. The walk had taken hours. Adrian's feet ached but he didn't complain. Whatever Marcus wanted him to see, it required this approach. Quiet. Unobtrusive. Two bodies among thousands.
The districts changed as they walked. Wealth gave way to middle class. Middle class to poor. Poor to something else entirely.
The buildings here were older. Strange. Architecture that didn't match the rest of the city. Some structures looked centuries old, their stone weathered smooth. Others seemed newer but built in styles Adrian didn't recognise.
Street lamps were inconsistent. Some gas-powered like the rest of Arathia. Others burning oil in ancient fixtures. Some not burning at all.
People moved through the streets with purposeful strides. They looked at Marcus as he passed. Some with recognition. Some with fear. Most with careful respect.
Many looked away quickly.
"They know you," Adrian said quietly.
"They know what I am. Vigil presence is tolerated here."
"Tolerated? Not welcomed?"
"We have an understanding. They operate, we monitor. Everyone stays alive."
They. Who are they?
Marcus stopped in front of a tavern. The sign above the door read "The Broken Crown" in faded letters. The building looked abandoned. Windows dark. Door closed.
But Adrian's Shadow Sight saw through the façade. Light leaked through cracks in the shutters. Movement inside. Many people.
"Follow my lead," Marcus said. "Don't speak unless spoken to. And don't draw your weapon no matter what you see."
He pushed open the door.
Inside was dimly lit. Maybe ten patrons scattered at tables. All conversation stopped the moment Marcus entered.
The bartender was an older man with a scarred face and greying hair. He looked at Marcus and nodded once.
"Reed. Been a while."
"Business, Thom. Not pleasure."
"Never is with you lot." The bartender's eyes found Adrian. Evaluated. "New recruit?"
"Initiate. Showing him the ropes."
Thom's expression shifted slightly. Understanding passed across his face.
"Ah. That kind of education. Back room's open." He jerked his head toward a door at the rear of the tavern.
Marcus led Adrian through the space. The patrons watched them pass. Not hostile. Just aware. Cataloguing. Remembering.
They reached the back door. It looked like a storage entrance. Plain wood. No marking.
Marcus knocked. Three slow knocks. Two fast. One slow.
A pattern. A code.
The door opened from inside.
A woman stood in the doorway. Mid-thirties, dark hair pulled back, dressed in practical clothing. Adrian's enhanced senses caught something about her immediately. The way energy moved around her. Through her.
She was a practitioner.
"Hunter Reed." Her voice was calm. Professional. "Down for business?"
"Observation only tonight, Cara."
She stepped aside and gestured downward. Behind her, stairs descended into darkness.
Stone steps. Ancient. Worn smooth by centuries of feet.
Adrian's Shadow Sight showed they went deep. Very deep.
"After you," Marcus said.
Adrian descended.
The stairs spiralled down. And down. And down. Adrian counted steps mentally. Fifty. Hundred. Hundred-fifty. They should be far below street level now. Below the sewers. Below the foundation of Arathia itself.
The air changed. Warmer. Humid. It smelled of spices and smoke and something else. Something alive.
Light appeared ahead. Not gaslight. Not electric. Something else entirely. Glowing crystals embedded in the walls. Ambient, sourceless illumination that pulsed faintly with inner light.
Sound filtered up from below. Voices. Hundreds of them. Conversation. Haggling. Laughter. Music from somewhere distant.
They reached the bottom.
Adrian stopped. Stared.
A massive underground cavern stretched before him.
Not natural. The walls were too smooth, too deliberately shaped. Someone had carved this space from living rock. Centuries ago, maybe longer.
The ceiling disappeared into darkness above. Even Adrian's Shadow Sight couldn't penetrate that far.
Hundreds of stalls filled the space. Shops. Vendors. Stretching into the distance like an underground city. Crystal lighting everywhere, casting warm steady glows that made the whole cavern feel alive.
People moved between the stalls. Practitioners. Normal humans. Things Adrian couldn't identify. Some had features that weren't quite human. Horns. Extra eyes. Scales. Patterns that shifted across skin like living tattoos.
Adrian's mouth opened slightly. He couldn't help it.
Marcus noticed his stare. "Not everyone bound to Daos stays fully human. Especially not at higher stages."
They walked into the market proper.
The first stall sold weapons. Swords glowing with runes. Daggers that seemed to shift in and out of reality. Axes with edges that looked sharp enough to cut light itself.
The vendor called out as they passed. "Silver-laced, blessed, cursed! All types, all prices!"
Second stall. Alchemical supplies. Vials of coloured liquids lined shelves from floor to ceiling. Dried creatures hung from hooks. Powders in jars that seemed to move on their own.
The smell was acrid. Dangerous. Like standing too close to something that might explode.
Third stall. Books. Old ones, new ones, forbidden ones. Adrian recognised titles from the Vigil's restricted section. And many more he'd never heard of.
"This is the real supernatural economy," Marcus said quietly. "Everything the Vigil controls above ground exists here uncontrolled. Ritual materials. Forbidden texts. Black market Dao knowledge. Weapons that would get you executed for owning."
Adrian couldn't stop staring. The scale was overwhelming. Hundreds of people. Tens of thousands of items. More wealth, more knowledge, more power than the entire Vigil headquarters.
"How is this possible?" Adrian's voice came out rough. "How does the Vigil allow this?"
"We don't allow it. We tolerate it." Marcus led him deeper into the market. "Because shutting it down would require war. There are more practitioners outside the Vigil than inside it. And the Vigil needs this place too. Intelligence. Contacts. Resources we can't legally acquire. So we have an understanding. They operate. We monitor. Nobody gets greedy."
The Vigil isn't the supernatural world. It's just one piece of it.
Adrian's entire understanding was shifting. He'd thought the Vigil was the authority. The power. The only real organisation that mattered.
But this market held more knowledge, more power, more freedom than everything he'd seen in headquarters.
And they let it exist. Because they have to.
That means the Vigil is weaker than they pretends.
If I need something they won't give me, it exists here. Outside their control.
They walked deeper. Adrian saw more impossible things with every step.
Living shadows being sold. Not abilities. Actual creatures made of darkness, contained in glass spheres.
Enchanted items that hummed with barely contained power.
Practitioners openly demonstrating abilities. Fire conjuring. Illusions. Telekinetic displays that defied physics.
"This is illegal," Adrian said.
"Technically. But unenforced unless they attack someone." Marcus stopped at a stall selling what looked like preserved eyes in jars. "The market has rules. No violence. No coercion. No harming civilians. Break those rules, the Vigil responds. Follow them, we look the other way."
"Everything I was told about rogues—"
"Was simplified for recruits," Marcus finished. "Reality is complicated. The Vigil isn't all-powerful. We're one faction among many. Better you learn that now than later."
They continued walking. Marcus leading with clear purpose. He knew where he was going.
They stopped at a specific stall near the market's centre.
The vendor was an ancient woman. Her eyes were completely white. Blind, Adrian thought at first.
But she looked directly at him.
"New blood." Her voice was dry as old paper.
Marcus stepped forward. "He needs equipment. Basic reconnaissance tools."
The woman produced items from beneath her counter without looking away from Adrian. A small brass telescope. Lockpicks in various sizes.
Marcus examined each item carefully. Selected three. Paid with coin, not Vigil scrip.
He handed the items to Adrian. "For your future assignments."
"What assignments?"
"I'm recommending you for reconnaissance squadron." Marcus's voice was matter-of-fact. "When you graduate Initiate training, you won't be a regular Hunter. Your abilities are not combat-focused. Combat abilities always manifest first. You're scout material. Intelligence gathering. Surveillance. You'll track rogues, watch this market, report back. That's your path in the Vigil."
Adrian's hands clenched around the tools.
Reconnaissance. Surveillance. Not fighting. Not hunting. Watching from shadows while others did the real work.
Just like in the warehouse. Standing back while Elena died. While Kane, Mara and Marcus fought.
And now Marcus is telling me my future is to stand back and watch. Again.
Marcus didn't notice Adrian's expression. He was already moving to the next stall. "Come on. More to see before we leave."
But Adrian wasn't listening anymore.
Marcus wanted him to make that permanent. To build a career around staying in the shadows. Observing. Never acting.
No. I will hunt.