Jian lingered in the clearing for a few moments longer, letting the sensations of his new ability settle. The hum of the Spirit Core still resonated in his bones, like a heartbeat intertwined with the Wilds themselves. He ran a hand along the bark of the ancient tree, feeling its warmth—a silent acknowledgment of the battle fought here.
But he couldn't stay.
His enemies had been prepared for him. If they had planned this much, then they wouldn't just disappear into the night. They had tested him once. They would do so again.
With a final glance at the Nightfang Alpha's remains, Jian turned and slipped into the shadows of the forest, his steps lighter, his awareness sharper than before. Every leaf, every branch, every pulse of life around him stood out with eerie clarity.
The journey back to camp was quicker than expected. His new instincts guided him along the most efficient path, weaving through dense foliage and uneven terrain as if he had walked these trails a hundred times before. The Wilds whispered, and he understood them now.
As he neared the edge of the glade where his temporary shelter stood, Jian slowed. Something was wrong.
His fire, which had been burning low when he left, was now completely out. The earth around the site was disturbed—subtle imprints in the dirt, footprints too deliberate to be from passing animals. Someone had been here.
Jian unsheathed his sword, his grip steady. His ears strained against the night, listening. A faint breeze carried the scent of damp leaves and charred wood, but beneath it—something else. Faint. Unfamiliar. Human.
He wasn't alone.
A shift in the air—behind him.
Jian whirled, blade flashing as he struck. Metal met metal in a sharp clang, the force reverberating up his arm.
A figure in dark leathers had intercepted his attack, twin daggers locked against his sword. Their hood was drawn low, obscuring their face, but their posture—poised, controlled—revealed experience.
For a moment, neither moved. Then the intruder exhaled a quiet chuckle.
"You're faster than before," they murmured. The voice was smooth, amused, carrying no fear.
Jian narrowed his eyes. They knew. They had seen him fight the Nightfang Alpha, seen him absorb its power.
He pushed forward, forcing the figure back a step. "Who sent you?" he demanded.
The stranger tilted their head slightly. "No one sends me. I came because I was curious."
The answer was frustratingly vague, but Jian had no intention of playing their game. He feinted left, then pivoted, aiming a precise strike toward their shoulder.
The figure moved with unnatural speed, slipping beneath his blade and twisting behind him in a fluid motion. A dagger pressed lightly against his ribs.
Jian stilled. Too fast. Too smooth. This wasn't an ordinary scout.
The figure leaned in slightly. "If I wanted you dead, you would be."
Jian's pulse remained steady. "And yet here we are."
A pause. Then the dagger withdrew. The stranger stepped back, lowering their weapons but not sheathing them.
"You've caught someone's interest, Jian."
He tensed at the sound of his name.
The figure continued, their voice measured. "There are forces moving in the shadows, watching your every step. You're strong, but strength alone won't be enough. Not in what's coming."
Jian's grip on his sword didn't loosen. "Who are you?"
A faint smile flickered beneath the hood. "Call me Nyx."
The name meant nothing to him.
Nyx took a slow step back, melting into the darkness. "Consider this a warning. The next time we meet, you might not have the luxury of talking."
Then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.
Jian remained motionless, his senses straining for any trace of their presence. But the forest was silent once more.
His knuckles tightened around his sword. Not an enemy. Not an ally. But someone who knew far more than they let on.
He exhaled, tension still coiled in his limbs. If Nyx was right, then this was only the beginning.
And he needed to be ready.
Jian sheathed his sword and turned toward his darkened camp.
The night had only just begun.