XVIII
Before we left, I found myself staring at my phone, hesitating. The plan forming in my mind felt like a gamble, but the stakes were high enough to justify it. After a long moment, I exhaled and dialed the number Leora had sent me.
The line clicked, and a gruff but friendly voice answered. "This is Stefan. You must be the Author."
"That's right," I said. "Leora mentioned she'd spoken to you."
"She did. So, what's on your mind?"
I cut straight to the point. "How do I become a Hunting Dog? From what I know, I'd need a recommendation from an ex-member."
Selena, seated across from me, froze mid-scroll on her phone. Her eyes shot to mine, wide with disbelief. Her expression practically screamed, Are you insane?
Stefan let out a low laugh. "You want to volunteer? Haven't heard that one in years. Most people forget the recommendation system even exists. But I'll write you one. Thing is, you'll need to be an Association-licensed hunter first."
"On my way to handle that," I replied, powering down my phone and slipping it back into my pocket.
The Hunting Dogs. They were a shadowy elite within the Hunter's Association, tasked with eliminating the most dangerous threats—the kind the Association couldn't allow to exist. These weren't your typical heroes; they were criminals, psychopaths, and the best hunters alive, all bound by one thing: absolute loyalty to the chairman. Most hunters didn't even know they existed, and those who did preferred to pretend otherwise.
Selena raised an eyebrow, her skepticism almost palpable. "You really think you're badass enough to join? I mean, I'm not that suicidal—"
"What? Thinking of backing out now?" I asked, genuinely curious.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at me, eyes narrowing with reluctant concern. If she planned to stick to her promise to Leora and tail me as closely as she claimed, she'd need to join the Dogs, too.
"Your wife used to work as a Hunting Dog," she muttered, her tone laced with something close to resentment.
"I know," I said quietly. It was something Leora probably didn't realize I knew, but I did.
"All the more reason you shouldn't join," Selena snapped. "The Dogs aren't the good guys. They don't have morals, and once you're in, there's no going back."
"I would," I said, my voice steady even as the weight of the words settled over me. "My wife did, didn't she?"
That shut her up. Selena's usual mischievous expression gave way to something else—hesitation, maybe even doubt.
The truth? I wasn't sure I believed myself either.
I cracked open the car window, letting in a rush of cool air. "Selena, you're strong enough to make it big in the hunter world," I said, keeping my tone casual. "Even the Hunting Dogs would find you a formidable opponent. But your lack of ambition is holding you back. And honestly? I could use all the help I can get—and that includes you."
I understood why she reacted so strongly at the mention of the Dogs. Leora had practically grown up among them. Selena? Her father had been one of them, too—a total jerk by all accounts, and worse, one of the Seven Extremes, the world's seven strongest hunters.
"This is a selfish request," I admitted, my voice softening. "But I hope you can guard my back, Selena."
My ability thrived on having a partner. Without someone covering me, I'd be as vulnerable as a sitting duck. I'd considered Grue or Jacob, but Selena was someone Leora trusted, and that carried weight.
She crossed her arms, eyeing me with suspicion. "Are you thinking of asking the 'President' for a favor?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I need protection for my family. Joining the Dogs could earn me that favor. The Elsewhere Cult has power I can't handle on my own. I need the Association's resources to deal with maniacs like them."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "I still don't get it. If they're so strong, why haven't I heard of them before?"
I met her gaze, unflinching. "You'd be surprised how many secret organizations are out there."
Her skepticism lingered, but she didn't press further. The conversation faded into silence as the cityscape blurred outside the car window. We were heading straight into the heart of the Association's testing grounds, and for better or worse, I was ready to see this through.
Before stepping out of the car, I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a tarot card. Its face bore the image of The Moon, mysterious and serene. I handed it to Selena, who raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.
"One of the twenty-two major arcana… So, what? Are you going to predict my future?"
"Not quite," I replied. "I used my Maker State to imbue it with my mark."
She tilted her head, intrigued but skeptical.
"Recently," I continued, "I've slowly begun to perceive my attributes. I call it the 'connection' attribute. It's a bit abstract, but the potential is enormous. I thought about using a bookmark, but a tarot card has more… charm. With that card, I'll always know where you are—whether you're dead or alive. If you channel your aura into it, you can talk to me directly. It's a secure line, more reliable than any phone. No jamming, no hacking—not even aura-users can intercept it."
Selena stared at the card for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she slipped it into her pocket.
I stepped out of the car, popped open the trunk, and retrieved my suitcase. Beside me, Selena tossed her car keys to a valet without a second glance. Together, we walked toward the imposing, antiquated building ahead of us.
As we approached, Selena gave me a once-over, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Are you really going in like that? You do know there's going to be fighting in the exam, right?"
I adjusted my tie, feeling the slight weight of the reinforced layers beneath the fabric. "I'm fully aware. This suit isn't just for show—it's armored. Besides, I look handsome as hell in it."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
The truth was, I'd have preferred something with more flexibility—shorts, maybe, or even workout gear. But this suit was the same one I'd worn to the gala where I'd eliminated several Elsewhere Cultists. If nothing else, it carried a certain gravitas.
Inside, the building's cavernous interior swallowed us whole. The space was vast, its high ceilings and ornate architecture lending it an air of both grandeur and intimidation. The room was filled with people—a diverse mix of aura-wielders glowing with latent power and mundanes who seemed entirely out of their depth. Easily over a hundred hopefuls were here for the exam.
I approached the front counter, Selena trailing a step behind. A tired-looking clerk glanced up from his desk.
"I'm here for the exam," I said.
The clerk handed me a pamphlet and a dauntingly long form. "The exam starts in 30 minutes. Here's your pamphlet, and please fill this in."
I skimmed through the packet, which was part questionnaire, part waiver. The questions were tedious, clearly designed to psych out those who weren't serious. As for the waiver, it was pages of fine print absolving the Association of any responsibility should we die. I signed without hesitation and handed everything back.
Stepping away from the line, I waited for Selena to finish her own paperwork. As I glanced around, someone bumped into me—a burly man with a nasty scar running across his forehead. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the faint trace of controlled aura marked him as an unofficial hunter.
"Watch where you're going, twat," he snarled, his accent thick and grating.
Normally, I'd let someone like him walk away without a second thought. But as he brushed past, I felt it—a subtle shift in my aura, a lightness in my pocket. My wallet and phone were gone.
I turned to him, my voice calm but sharp. "You look like a brute, but it seems you're just a lowly thief. Give it back before you regret it."
He stopped, turning back to face me with a sneer. "What did you say?"
I met his glare without flinching. "You heard me."
His aura rippled faintly—a sign of his ability at work. I felt a flicker of amusement. He was using a "misdirection" attribute, a clever technique for stealing without detection. Unfortunately for him, my connection attribute made it laughably easy to unravel his trick.
With the faintest touch, my Soul Link activated, bridging our auras. Through the connection, I dissected his ability, understanding its mechanics in seconds.
"What did you do?" he growled, stepping closer. He loomed over me, easily a head taller, but his size didn't intimidate me.
I smiled. "What are you talking about?"
In one fluid motion, I mimicked his misdirection technique. My hand brushed past his pocket, retrieving my wallet and phone—along with a little extra for my trouble.
The brute snorted, apparently convinced he'd won. He turned and stomped away, leaving me standing there with a smirk.
Simpleton.
Selena walked over, having witnessed the exchange. She raised an eyebrow. "Making friends already?"
"Just setting boundaries," I replied, slipping my belongings back into my pocket.
She chuckled softly. "You're going to be fun to watch during this exam."
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes until the test began.
"Maybe we should kill time—" The words barely left my mouth before a searing pain erupted in my chest. I dropped to one knee, spitting blood onto the cold marble floor.
Selena leaned over, her expression shifting from mild amusement to sharp focus. "That's nasty."
My vision blurred, but I caught sight of the burly guy I'd just bumped into. He stood across the room with a smug smirk plastered on his face.
"What the hell is happening to me?" I rasped, my hands trembling as I checked for injuries. Nothing. No cuts, no bruises—nothing visible to explain the agony coursing through me.
Selena crouched beside me, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Your lips are turning purple… Must be poison. This looks familiar…"
It was only then that I noticed Selena had changed outfits. She now wore a brown leather jacket over a fitted black tank top. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering green liquid.
"Drink this," she said, unscrewing the cap and helping me tilt my head back to swallow the contents.
I gagged at the bitter taste but forced it down. Selena guided me to a nearby table, her arm steadying me as my breathing slowed and the pain began to subside.
"That was an antidote," she explained. "An all-cure against poison, made from a rare cryptid and a mix of special herbs."
I coughed, still tasting blood in my mouth. "An Anti-Poison… I've heard of it. Must have cost you a fortune."
She smirked, leaning against the table. "Yep. Make sure to pay me back." She winked, her tone teasing but her eyes watchful.
I glanced back at the burly guy. He was staring at me with an infuriating leer, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Selena followed my gaze and crossed her arms. "So, what's the moral lesson of the story?"
I wiped my mouth and took a steadying breath. "Always keep your guard up. Makes me wonder how he applied the poison, though. It's definitely not aura-based…"
Selena nodded, her expression thoughtful. "How'd you figure that out?"
"Because I'm aura-sensitive," I replied.
"Now, now, don't get butthurt," she said, her tone mockingly sweet. "He did it through skin contact. Probably when he picked your pocket earlier. Look at his pinky finger."
I squinted, noticing for the first time the faint gleam of a retractable needle on his pinky.
Selena continued, her voice calm but cutting. "He must have pricked you with it. The aura trick he used? That was just the distraction, not the delivery method."
"You saw all that?" I asked, impressed despite myself.
"Oh, I did more than just see…" she said with a sly grin.
Before I could ask what she meant, a commotion erupted across the room.
The burly guy suddenly clutched his throat, his eyes wide with panic. He gasped for air, but blood began to pour from his nose, mouth, and even his pores. He collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony as a pool of crimson spread beneath him.
People screamed, scattering away from the scene as staff members rushed to help.
I turned to Selena, my stomach sinking. "No, you didn't…"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I did."
It hit me like a punch to the gut. That could have been me.
"In the instant he pricked you," she said, her voice low but smug, "I stole his poison and used it on him."
I stared at her, equal parts horrified and awed. Selena was many things—brash, sarcastic, and reckless—but she was also scarily efficient when it came to handling threats.
As the staff tried to contain the chaos, I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine. I'd learned a valuable lesson today: in this world, trust was a luxury, and survival meant being two steps ahead—or having someone like Selena watching your back.
"It looks like I still have a lot to learn."
~018