*****************************
Edmund "Bloodhound" Dudley
Bloody and battered as usual after a scuffle, I step away into the forest, but it has been a while since I had another beside me after a fight. Speaking of that brawl, it would have been a breeze had I not been so low on Ether or Blood Vials, of which I'm down to three. I ambushed the outlier and finished him quickly before using a full Vial to incapacitate the other man beside the Cowboy. Being left with just the Cowboy became a battle of attrition where he would use his telekinesis to cut or hurt me, and I would slowly whittle him down. So here I stand, battered, but standing and helping Wyatt through the dense dreary forest.
Looking down at Wyatt, the kid just about old enough to work on a farm for pay and inflicted with dark purple and black bruises on his neck, I feel a deep worry. This entire breach almost certainly occurred because of his mother's death, and whoever, or whatever, started it is after either Wyatt himself or something else about him. I need to get him to the closest Regional Headquarters immediately. Unfortunately, I, a mere 3rd Sigil, cannot contend with whatever started a breach.
I feel a wave of anticipation, excitement, and worry for Wyatt. He took on two 1st Sigils as an Unsigiled and successfully felled one. The second definitely was a Soldier or Freak to have the strength to make Wyatt's neck that bad after just a few seconds. This kid's got some good potential for a Hunter. I just got to teach him to be proactive, not reactive, in a fight.
Pausing my thoughts, I move the Ether within me in such a way as to activate the skill that my title is named after, Bloodhound's Nose. Immediately after starting the skill that my second Sigil granted me, I sense dozens of dense Ether signatures within a mile. Locking on to the densest signature, I recognize it as a flavor similar to mine, but it reminds me of bone instead of blood. That's not good. And the Ether signatures are closing in on us, slowly but surely.
I've been running on little to no sleep for over a day now, wounded by several fights starting from Elderfield, and with the use of Bloodhound's Nose, my body is on the verge of Ether oversaturation and physical breakdown. Not to mention my aging body, I'm not as agile or quick as I once was. I heal so slowly that I can't close my wounds, merely stop them from bleeding. Due to all these factors, I recognize that I am doubtful to defeat another 3rd Sigil like the group leader around the carriage, let alone another 3rd Sigil followed by at least thirty other men.
It's times like these that I wish I had followed through with a Metamorphosis, but I know I reached my peak long ago in my youth. I started my journey as a Hunter in my mid-thirties, far too late to achieve a powerful level to enter the big leagues. My resonation with Sigils is too low, and I've lost the ambition I once had to continue advancing. Perhaps if... no. It is simply too late. My duty is to keep this child alive.
My mission here is not my own survival. It's the survival of my protege. Throughout my long career of over fifty years as a Hunter, I've had innumerable trainees die. Yet, I've never had a trainee die under my watch.
I look down to Wyatt, who is doing his best to keep up with me despite being Unsigiled and without any Ether to manipulate and make an oath to myself and the Red Judge, just in case he is listening.
Come Hell or Death herself, I ain't gonna fail this kid.
*************
Wyatt Graves
Every breath sends a pang of burning agony to my brain from my ribs and neck, reminding me of how close I came to dying just a bit ago. The darkening and slowing thoughts with rough, calloused hands wrapped around my throat. I try to ignore and push the ideas to the depths of my panicked mind and focus on the demanding obstacle ahead.
Edmund and I have traveled through these thick woods for nearly an hour since reaching the carriage. He gave me more bandages to wrap around my neck and torso to help heal my wounds. I do my best to keep up with him while we move in odd patterns, like dodging some unseen entity.
We continue through the dark forest for what seems like forever. Then, finally, with the autumn leaves crunching under my boots, I see a brief glimpse of light through the trees sunward.
Dawn is approaching. That's bad, isn't it? We will be easier to see during the daytime and won't be able to sneak up on a group like before. I look to Edmund beside me for advice. He seems worse for wear, with his one hand bandaged up and several deep but bloodless gashes on his body. As I ask him our next step, I see his eyes narrow and focus on the forest floor before us.
Edmund answers my unasked question.
"Loperd tracks. It should be just one, and close at that. Looks like you might get yur rematch, Wyatt."
Worried about the breach, I ask about what we should be doing.
"Do we have the time? Are we not trying to escape?"
Depressingly, Edmund shakes his head.
"Not anymore. We're surrounded. So, our best shot is to get you a Sigil. Here's to hoping you resonate with this one. I could use a trusty pardner'."
This revelation only deepens my worry. So surrounded? How are we to make it out alive? If there are multiple groups like the previous one, we're toast.
Evidently, this concern shows on my face, and Edmund tries to reassure me and pauses in his steps.
"Focus, boy. We'll be just fine."
This phrase doesn't earn a reaction from me, so he tries again.
"Look at me."
I stop as well and turn to look at his scarred face.
In such a secure way, almost as if he's seen the future, Edmund continues.
"I've been in this dangerous gamble of a game a long, long time, Wyatt. Just trust me, and we'll both get out of this just dandy, ya hear?"
Feeling a little more confident, I nod and resume walking once he does. I mean, let's think this through. Edmund is old, I'm not sure exactly how old, but if he's lived this long, undoubtedly, he's survived something like this before, right? Definitely, otherwise, he wouldn't sound so confident. With this renewed outlook, I feel better about what's to come next and confident in making it out alive with Edmund.
Interrupting my thoughts, Edmund points at a spot of disturbed dirt and what looks like a wooden handle sticking from the ground. We both walk closer. It seems to be a recently opened, old, sunken wooden trapdoor with the footprints of a four-legged animal leading to them. Can Loperds open hatches? No way. They don't even have the hands, let alone the mind, to use them.
But thinking again, Loperds likely move in packs, and if there is a loner like Edmund said, it might be the one that ran away. And that one showed some intelligence and emotion behind its eyes like it saw the world similarly to me. So maybe it can open a trapdoor.
Edmund crouches down and reaches for the old trapdoor with his unwounded hand, but not before putting another vial of blood in his broken hand.
He then looks up at me and calmly speaks.
"I sense a weak but unique Ether Signature inside. Reminds me of the Loperd that escaped earlier. Not entirely sure what's under this trapdoor, though. So, you ready for yur first hunt, kid?"
Surprised that he would leave this to me, I didn't immediately answer. I crave the idea of gaining a Sigil and the power that comes with it, though. Edmund can do amazing things, and I wish to do the same. But am I ready to hunt?
Unsure, I answer.
"I–I don't know. Do you think I am?"
Frowning, Edmund replies.
"Honestly, kid. No. Not at all. Most trainees are taught strategy and how to fight for close to a year before their first hunt; not just that, but they begin in pairs. I have seen you fight, though, so don't be unconfident. Yur a natural. Just after you kill the Loperd, wait for me, and I will guide you through the Sigil Assimilation again. Till then, I will do my best to keep you alive from afar, so take this vial."
I take the smooth glass vial of blood Edmund hands me and place it in my pocket. Then I draw the Talon with my right hand and my small knife from my old home with my left. It's likely to be dark underground, so the Lily will not help much. Better to have a knife and sword ready before shit hits the fan.
I announce my preparedness to Edmund as I stand before the trapdoor.
"Okay, I think I'm ready then. Not much other choice. We are low on time, right?"
Edmund sighs before trying to encourage me again.
"Aye, Wyatt. It's now or never. You either become a Hunter with their first scar or die in this breach. The claws are tightening, and even I cannot stop the crunch."
As he finishes his attempt to encourage me, he swings the trapdoor open, revealing the darkness within carried up with a set of worn stairs.
Tightening my grip on the blades in my hands, I gaze down into the depths. Edmund's not the best at encouraging, but I will do my best. I don't want to drag him down further than I already have. He wouldn't have gotten as hurt if he didn't have to save me in the previous fight or worry for me. I can't be a Hunter and bring down others.
I steel myself and promise that I won't be a burden to Edmund anymore as I step down into the darkness. Immediately a few rays of light from the rising sun illuminate a bit of the room, revealing pieces of it to me. The room looks like an old and abandoned shelter or hideout for a previous Hunter. Ancient rusted weapons, shovels, and other odd things are lying about on the ground. Gazing deeper, I try to see the edges of the cellar, but I cannot as the rays of light are not numerous enough to reach the ends of this vast underground room.
Then I hear above and behind me at the top; Edmund curses, something I don't quite catch before he yells, "Good luck and devil's strength." Before slamming the trapdoor shut, leaving me in darkness with whatever is deep within.
Feeling the creak of the steps beneath my boot and the cobweb that brushes my face, I listen for any movement or sign of life within this pitch-black cellar-like thing. Instead, I hear activity above me as several pairs of feet slam into the dirt above the cellar.
I hesitate for a moment. Should I go back up? No. I'll likely just hold Edmund back. I don't even have a single Sigil, and I am trying to help someone with three fight. No way that continues to go well for me. I've been lucky so far, but luck dwindles rapidly. Ignoring the commotion above, I crouch into a position that lets me move easily and aids in not running into anything in the large dark room. Only once inside do I notice how truly dark it is. I can only see my hand when I put it up to my eyes.
I make it down to the bottom of the set of weathered stairs before coming to a realization. I don't HAVE to fight in the dark. The Loperd definitely has better senses in the dusk than me, no matter what category, hearing, sight, smell, or feel. Sheathing my weapons, I pull off the trim backpack I have carried since I left home. I scramble to open the worn pack and hear nails clack against a stone. I reach within and pull out my box of flint and tinder. Flint and tinder are used to create small campfires or signals. If I light it all, there may be enough light to fight.
I hear approaching claws scratching stone from my right as I frantically try and fail to ignite the tinder using sparks created with my flint and steel. Doing so in the dark is tough as I have to do it solely by feeling.
Doing my best to focus and ignore the impending attack, I again attempt to create light. Damn near slamming the steel along the flint, several sparks emerge, radiating the immediate surroundings.
In the corner of my right eye, I see a single claw momentarily before the area is plunged back into darkness. I try to quietly shuffle away, holding my firestarter kit steady in the dark. Then, I sense something substantial brush just past me as I hear claws smash into the stone floor like the beast was pouncing.
Phew. That was close. I think it is attacking me based on sound. Unfortunately for me, using the firestarter is quite loud and will definitely reveal my location. Despite that, I still need to use it. I'm no beast that can fight merely through sound.
Stabling my hands and the tools within them, I go for one more strike with my steel upon the flint. As I do so, I hear movement from the Loperd towards me. This time enough sparks are made that they catch on to the tinder and shed some dim but lasting brilliance. With this faint light, I finally see the Loperd that I have been trapped in with, and I recognize it. It IS the same one that escaped earlier!
Knowing this, I don't have to worry as much about its speed as it wasn't as fast as the other Loperd. The only bad part is that the Loperd is very close and immediately pounces once the fire's light is perceived.
I see its mouth open wide as it snarls and slashes toward me with its claws. I drop the newly born fire, hoping it won't go out, and jump backward to evade the pounce.
Then, I unsheathe the Talon and my small knife and try to circle around to the right of the Loperd. Darting in quickly and fast, I try to draw the first blood with my Talon in a smooth stab. The Loperd senses this and evades as well but moves much further back than me, fading into the darkness where the small fire cannot reach.
I pause and wait. I constantly scan the edges of the fire's light, looking for any sign of the beast. Then there it is, a clack of nails and a swift blur of black fur that charges at me from my 2 o'clock. I immediately try to move to the left to not get hit, but the Loperd adjusts its dash, locking on to me.
Instead of dodging early, I decide to go in for a hit and try to minimize the damage dealt to me. Using the faint radiance from the fire, I bend my torso to the side of the Loperd, trying to prevent any damage dealt to me while I lash out with the Talon.
I feel the Talon sink into the Loperd, but less than a fraction afterward, the Loperd brings a claw toward my face, and I go to block it with my knife. Somehow, the Loperd slides its foot around my knife and pulls it straight out of my hand, leaving a gash on my forearm and wrist.
What the hell was that? Did an animal just disarm me?!
Stepping closer to the fire, I put my now empty hand onto the Talon so I won't have my rapier stolen from me.
After disarming me, the Loperd kicks the knife away as if it knows it is a weapon despite not being hit by it. Is the Sigil it is attuned to intelligence related? How else would it know?
I don't have time to ponder this, but maybe I can use its intelligence against it. I tighten my grip further on my rapier and press the Loperd away from the flame.
Instead of backing away, however, the Loperd grows annoyed and dodges my blade by a single inch, and moves closer to me in an attempt to bite me. Just as the Loperd is near biting the right side of my hip, I draw the Lily with my left and point it right at its face.
Using the same trick as I did on the man who almost killed me, I try to feint out the Loperd, hoping it will recognize the item as a gun. And it does. Instead of pushing through with the attack like a wild, unknowing animal would, the Loperd flinches and twists its body to slide past me.
As it does so, I get a cheap shot in with the Talon, stabbing it through the torso, making it yipe in pain. Then, using its agility and swarthy fur, it limps into the dark, but not before leaving me with a present.
I watch in horror as the Loperd slams its paws onto the flame I set alight and descends the area back into the dark void it once was. And as soon as the cellar is sent back into darkness, I try to rush the Loperd and listen for its claws scratching the floor, but this time, I don't hear anything. Just a quiet and faint dripping in the dark. Unfortunately, my ears aren't that primed to locate a beast from dripping liquid.
Shit. It was playing with me. It could always move silently and function in the dark. Like a cat playing with a mouse, but now I angered it.
I used all the tinder at once due to the difficulty of igniting it in the dark. There is no way I can light it again without being ambushed in the deep shade. I strain my ears further, hoping to discern where the dripping comes from.
I am unsure of my future because I don't think I'm the predator anymore.