Bash brought up the map projection in front of everyone. A blue grid expanded over the field, pulsing

  faintly with their coordinates. Four glowing zones marked nearest targets.

  Calen leaned in, brushing dust from his gauntlet. “So where to next?”

  “Back into a swarm?” Rixor asked dryly.

  Taren gave him a sideways glance. “You volunteering to tank that?”

  He snorted. “Didn’t think so.”

  Bash zoomed in on the nearest readings. “Single-target zones only. Swarms drain stamina fast, and

  packs will surround us if we’re not careful.” He pointed to a point farthest across the map. “That one.

  Single entity, far side of the valley. Roughly five klicks.”

  Nyra folded her arms. “Five klicks of open field after a full-scale stampede.”

  “Which is exactly why we need the walk,” Bash said. “Cool off, reset our heads. We talk, we plan, then

  we hunt.”

  Rixor rolled his shoulders, already hefting his hammer. “Fine. But if my legs cramp, you’re carrying

  me.”

  Taren smirked. “Sure, if you count dragging as carrying.”

  They started moving, leaving the torn plain behind. The earth here was lighter, scattered with shards of

  pale stone that caught the light like glass. The breeze carried a faint metallic taste and the smell of

  trampled vegetation.

  For several minutes no one spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was the calm that followed chaos.

  Eventually Taren broke it. “That stampede could’ve gone worse.”

  Calen grunted. “Could’ve gone better, too. My shot’s the reason it started.”

  Bash shook his head. “Doesn’t matter who fired first. The data’s old; the herd patterns probably shifted.

  We adapted.”

  “Barely,” Rixor muttered, rubbing the bruise on his arm. “One more wave and I’d have been a Spartor

  pancake.”

  Nyra smirked faintly. “A durable pancake now.”

  “Exactly,” he said, brightening a little. “See? Upgrades already working.”

  The small laughter eased the tension. For a moment, they almost felt like they were walking back to the

  training dorms after another long drill.

  But Bash’s focus kept drifting.

  “S-C, we need answers,” he thought. “These surges, they’re too consistent to be random.”

  “Agreed,” she said in her usual even tone. “Each essence discharge within one hundred meters triggers

  a measurable spike in your vitals. Yet your internal channels remain dormant.”

  “Could it be proximity interference? Rixor’s resonance overlapping mine?”

  “No. Essence absorption cannot duplicate across cores. Each system processes independently.”

  “Then what’s causing the shock?”

  “Unknown. Population density is irrelevant; the field binds directly to your personal essence

  signature.”

  “So you don’t know.”

  “Correct. But I’m recording every incident.”

  Bash exhaled silently, watching dust swirl around his boots. Recording’s not fixing it, he thought, but

  didn’t say it.

  The terrain changed gradually, sloping upward into low ridges covered in gray-leafed trees. The canopy

  shimmered faintly, reacting to touch as they brushed through.

  “Feels alive,” Liora murmured.

  “Everything here does,” Nyra replied, adjusting her scope. “Hold, heat spike, northwest quadrant.”

  Bash halted the group and brought up his own overlay. One by one, the others followed, their eyes

  lighting the air with scanning grids.

  A single crimson silhouette pulsed behind a dense cluster of brush. Its body was sleek and coiled, feline

  in outline, though longer, leaner. Massive forelimbs ended in talons that curved like blades, and the

  heat signature around its chest burned bright and fast.

  “Tier 1 Apex,” S-C confirmed quietly in Bash’s ear.

  “Fast type,” Rixor muttered. “Figures.”

  Taren cocked her sidearm. “Faster than you, big guy?”

  He gave her a grin. “Not for long.”

  “Formation?” Calen asked.

  Bash studied the map, marking positions. “Rixor up front, draw its focus, keep it off the shooters. Liora

  and Darik, wide flanks. Calen and Nyra, long range. Taren and I will move midline, coordinate.”

  “Copy,” Nyra said immediately.

  The group spread out, boots whispering against the soft soil. The faint hum of their System Cores

  systems filled the air, syncing location markers and vitals.

  Through the foliage, Bash caught a glimmer of motion, a twitch of muscle, the flash of eyes that

  reflected like molten silver.

  “On my mark,” he whispered. “Three… two… one.”

  Rixor broke cover first, hammer raised. The creature reacted instantly, exploding from the bush with

  terrifying speed. It was on him in seconds, a blur of pale fur, sinew, and gleaming claws.

  “Contact!” Rixor roared, swinging low. The blow barely missed as the beast vaulted over him, landing

  behind with a thud that shook the ground.

  Taren fired. Two shots cracked out, but the rounds only grazed its hide, leaving shallow cuts that closed

  almost instantly.

  “Armor layer’s thick!” she shouted.

  Calen loosed an arrow, another, another, each shot forcing it sideways, but none piercing deep enough

  to slow it.

  Nyra’s voice cut through the comms. “Can’t get a clear shot, too fast!”

  The creature pivoted and lunged at Taren.

  Bash didn’t think, he moved. He sprinted, drawing one of his throwing knives and letting instinct guide

  him. The weapon left his hand in a clean, perfect arc.

  The blade struck the creature’s shoulder and sank deep. The metal flared red, the Razorvein imbuement

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  activating, the wound tearing wider, spilling dark blood across its flank.

  The beast screeched and stumbled, hind leg buckling.

  “Direct hit!” Bash shouted.

  “Opening!” Nyra replied. Her rifle whined, then fired. A bright round slammed into the creature’s side,

  sending a ripple of energy through its body. It convulsed, frozen in place for half a second before

  toppling sideways.

  “Stun confirmed,” she said, already loading the next.

  Rixor took advantage, charging forward and swinging downward. The hammer cracked against its

  forelimb, splintering bone and forcing it to the ground.

  Liora and Darik closed in from opposite sides. Their blades flashed in unison, two shallow slashes

  across the ribs, another under the jaw. The creature howled and thrashed, dirt and leaves flying.

  Taren kept firing, each shot punctuated by the steady rhythm of her breath. “Left joint! Take it!”

  Calen adjusted his aim, arrow flying true this time. It struck behind the creature’s ear, drawing another

  roar of pain.

  Nyra’s next stun hit almost immediately after. The beast collapsed completely, trembling.

  “Now!” Bash barked.

  Liora darted in again, her blade sliding between ribs, deep and sure. The motion was fluid, final.

  The roar cut off mid-sound. The creature went still.

  Silence settled over the woods, broken only by the hiss of dissipating energy.

  Bash took a slow breath, then staggered. The surge hit harder this time, a violent pulse through his

  chest that sent his vision spinning for a moment.

  “S-C, report.”

  “Essence transfer detected,” she answered. “However, there is still no corresponding unlock. You

  remain dormant.”

  “Why stronger this time?”

  “Classification difference,” S-C replied. “This creature was Tier 1 Apex. Essence density and release

  magnitude are higher than the Tier 1 Greater types you previously encountered. The reaction intensity

  scales with the target’s rank.”

  “So the stronger the kill, the harder the hit.”

  “Precisely.”

  Bash exhaled through his nose. “Good to know. Not fun, but good.”

  He steadied himself, jaw tight.

  “Grab the fragment,” Nyra said quietly.

  Bash nodded and approached the fallen beast. Up close, it was even larger than he’d realized, muscle

  and sinew built for pure velocity. Its claws were long, translucent, each one catching the faint light

  filtering through the canopy.

  He crouched, pressed his dagger to the joint of the largest claw, and pried it loose. It resisted for a

  second before snapping free with a sharp crack. The severed piece glowed softly, golden veins running

  across its curved surface.

  “Got it,” he said, slipping it into his containment pouch. The bag pulsed once as it absorbed the

  fragment, locking it away.

  Rixor gave a grin that was half exhaustion, half pride. “We’re getting good at this.”

  “Good enough to survive,” Taren replied, wiping her pistol barrel with a strip of cloth.

  Calen walked a slow circle around the corpse. “Hard to believe this thing was alone. Something that

  big shouldn’t hunt solo.”

  “They always start solo,” Nyra said. “Until the strong ones draw followers.”

  “Let’s hope we’re gone before that happens,” Liora muttered.

  Bash checked his display: 12 points added. The counter blinked, 0.51 / 3.00.

  He gave a short nod. “Plenty of time left. Pack up. We’re heading to the next zone.”

  The creature’s body began to fade, light rising off it in slow, spiraling tendrils before sinking into the

  ground. The soil shimmered faintly where it vanished, as if drinking the remains.

  “Same as the grazers,” Darik said.

  “Yeah,” Bash replied. “Whatever this planet is made of, it reclaims everything.”

  He looked once more at the spot where the beast had fallen, then turned toward the team.

  “Map check,” he said.

  The projection reappeared between them, casting faint light across the clearing. One marker blinked

  two klicks east, its readings dense, pulsing rapidly across the grid.

  Nyra frowned. “That’s a swarm zone.”

  “Two klicks isn’t far,” Calen said, checking his weapon. “But that’s a lot of signatures packed

  together.”

  Rixor grinned, hefting his hammer. “Closer means faster points.”

  Taren holstered her sidearm and gave him a look. “Or faster death if we’re sloppy.”

  “They won’t move like the grazers,” Bash said. “Swarm-types coordinate in bursts. Smaller, faster, but

  they break if we cut the center out. Stay tight, keep comms open, and don’t chase.”

  Nyra adjusted her rifle scope, tone measured. “So same principle, control the fight, not the kill.”

  “Exactly,” Bash replied. “We go in, clean, and we keep it contained.”

  The group nodded, tension returning but tempered by focus.

  He started down the incline, the others falling into formation behind him.

  “S-C,” he asked silently. “You sure about that energy classification?”

  “Positive. Swarm-type resonance, Tier 1, estimated common rank. Minimal elemental output.”

  “Minimal still means dangerous.”

  “Danger appears to be your default state.”

  He almost smiled. You’re learning sarcasm.

  “Observation: imitation of user speech patterns.”

  “Uh-huh,” he muttered under his breath.

  Rixor glanced over. “You good?”

  “Fine,” Bash said simply, eyes forward.

  Bash tightened his grip on his weapon. The surge in his chest had faded, but the echo remained.

  He glanced once at his display again: 0.51 / 3.00.

  Plenty of time. Plenty to prove.

  “Let’s move,” he said.