The Extinct Class.
The ballroom was a wreck. Expensive tables were smashed into firewood.
The air smelled of sulfur and expensive perfume.
Amara was a blur of crimson motion.
Duck. Roll. Slash.
Her obsidian daggers were extensions of her will. She moved faster than the human eye could track, carving deep trenches into the Demon's ashen flesh.
Black viscous blood sprayed the pristine walls.
"Hungry..." the Anay-Demon gurgled.
The massive wound on its chest bubbled and knitted back together in seconds.
The sound was wet and sickening, like raw meat being stirred in a bowl. Steam rose from his grey skin as the heat of his metabolism scorched the air.
"So... hungry!"
It swung a massive arm. Amara backflipped, but the wind pressure alone sent her skidding across the polished floor.
He's regenerating too fast, she thought, her eyes narrowing. Consuming his fat reserves to heal.
"Captain Amara!" her earpiece crackled. "Sensors flag Anay as High Gold Rank! Do we signal the Monarch?"
"Negative," Amara said, her voice steady. "If the Monarch handles every pest, what are we paid for? Evacuate the civilians."
She reactivated her daggers.
[Initiating Termination Protocol.]
[Three-Blow Sequence Engaged.]
Amara launched a deceptive punch at the Demon's stomach. The creature, lost to hunger, shifted to defend its gut.
Too easy.
She activated Shadow Step.
One moment she was in front of him; the next, she materialized behind him, driving her blade into his back.
[Strike One: Successful.]
Aryan, slumped against the shattered stage, watched in fascination. Pain radiated from his chest like a hot iron rod jammed between his ribs, making every breath a struggle, but he couldn't look away.
To him, the battle looked like a video game. Translucent blue boxes flickered above the Demon.
[Enemy HP: 50%]
[Regeneration Source: Stomach Fat Reserves.]
[Weakness: Core Stone located behind Navel.]
"Look at the Energy flow," Sam whispered in his ear, sounding impressed.
"See how the purple light gathers at her ankles? That's not magic, kid. That's physics manipulation. She's bending light to fold space.
Watch closely. You might need to learn that if you survive the next five minutes."
"He's healing through his stomach!" Aryan screamed, coughing as the shout rattled his broken ribs. "Target the navel! Not the chest! He has a Core Stone there!"
"Shut up!" Amara snapped without looking back. "You've interfered enough. Stay down if you don't want to die."
Aryan clenched his fists. Why won't she listen?
"Interesting," Sam chuckled in his head. "Do as she says, kid. She aimed for the stomach first to bait him. Now watch."
Amara's eyes narrowed. Core Stone behind the navel? The kid has good eyes.
She took a deep breath.
[Shadow Step: Limit Break.]
She vanished.
It wasn't a fade; it was an instantaneous deletion from reality. The Demon swiped at empty air, instinctively covering his heart.
Amara reappeared directly under the Demon's massive gut.
She reversed her grip on her daggers, drove both blades upward into the thick grey flab, and twisted.
CRUNCH.
The sound of shattering crystal echoed through the silent room.
The Demon froze. Its crimson eyes widened in disbelief. The black smoke pouring from its mouth dissipated instantly.
[HP: 0%]
[Target Eliminated.]
The massive bulk collapsed backward, shaking the floor like an earthquake. The body dissolved into black ash, leaving behind nothing but a pile of shredded suit fabric and a glowing green orb.
"Ooh, shiny," Sam drawled. "That's an unknown rank Skill Orb. Probably 'Gluttony' or 'Iron Stomach.' Useless for a skinny twig like you, but it would sell for a few million on the dark web. Too bad she's going to take it. Finder's keepers, killer's reapers."
Amara stood up, wiping black blood from her cheek. She picked up the orb.
[Skill Stone Acquired.]
Aryan stared at the glowing stone. Even from here, he could feel the energy radiating from it. On the black market, that marble alone was worth more than his mother's entire life of wages.
He swallowed hard, the instinct of a starving man fighting against the awe of the moment.
She pocketed it into her System Space—a personal dimensional pocket that every Hunter possessed.
Then, she turned her cold gaze toward Aryan.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, stalking toward him. Her daggers were still unsheathed, glistening with demon blood.
Aryan swallowed hard. "Oh, Sis... I... I just got it today."
At the word "Sis," Amara's expression softened for a fraction of a second before the mask slid back into place.
"You awakened today?" She stopped two feet from him. "What Class? Mage? Scout?"
Aryan hesitated. Sis? Why did I call her that?
It wasn't a slip of the tongue.
It felt like a word that had been sleeping in his throat for years, waiting for this specific face to wake it up.
A strange, ghostly déjà vu washed over him, making his head spin almost as much as the pain in his ribs.
"I don't know," he lied, looking at the ground. He couldn't tell her about the text boxes yet. "It just... tells me things."
Amara stared at him, her eyes calculating.
Wail...
The piercing sound of sirens cut through the air. The Hunter Association Enforcement Unit was arriving.
Blue and red lights began to flash against the high windows, casting erratic shadows across the wreckage of the ballroom.
"Listen to me," Amara said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The Association will be here in two minutes. They will take credit for the kill. That doesn't matter. What matters is what that woman in the crowd called you."
Aryan looked up. "What?"
"She called you a Seer," Amara hissed. "Seers haven't existed for ten years. If the Association finds out you have those eyes, they won't arrest you."
She leaned in closer, her amber eyes burning with intensity.
"The last Seer they found wasn't executed. He was kept in a basement lab for three years while they tried to figure out how his brain worked.
They peeled him apart layer by layer, looking for the 'Third Eye.' They don't want justice, kid. They want specimens to replicate. They want to turn people like you into radar equipment."
"They will dissect you."
Aryan's blood ran cold. "I'd die?"
"Worse. You'd wish you were dead," Amara said. "Come with me. Now."
She grabbed his arm and hauled him up. Aryan groaned, his legs feeling like jelly, but Amara's grip was iron-clad.
She didn't wait for him to find his balance; she dragged him like a sack of flour. Without another word, they bolted toward the back kitchen exit, leaving the sirens behind.
They burst through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Stainless steel counters blurred past them. Startled chefs dropped pans and scrambled out of the way as the woman in the blood-soaked dress and the battered waiter sprinted past the stoves.
"Why would you help me?" Aryan panted, limping as they ran down the service corridor.
[Target: Amara]
[Lie Detection: Negative.]
[Truth: She is protecting you.]
"Go with her," Sam advised, sounding amused. [Mission Update: Survive the Night.]
[Reward: System Upgrade.]
[Failure Penalty: Death.]
Amara glanced back at him, pushing open the heavy metal door into the cool night air.
"You'll know soon enough," she said cryptically. "Just keep running."