Jian stood motionless, watching the last traces of the shadowed figures disappear into the forest. His fingers twitched at his side, resisting the urge to chase after them. There was no point—they were trained, disciplined, and would vanish long before he could corner one for answers.
Instead, he turned his gaze upward. The night sky stretched endless above him, the stars shimmering like scattered embers. A quiet rage burned in his chest. He wasn't just fighting beasts and Guardians anymore—there were forces moving in the dark, unseen hands trying to shape his ascent in the Tower.
He would not let them.
Jian inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air steady his thoughts. He needed to move. Lingering in one place, especially now, invited trouble. With careful, practiced motions, he tightened the straps on his gear and melted back into the wilderness.
As he navigated through the thick undergrowth, the forest seemed… different. Not in an obvious way, but his instincts, sharpened by Beastwalker's Instincts, whispered warnings in the back of his mind. The wind carried unfamiliar scents, the stillness of the Wilds felt unnatural, as if something had disturbed its balance.
Something was hunting.
Jian slowed his pace, crouching low as he reached the edge of a narrow ravine. Peering through the darkness, he scanned his surroundings. The usual nocturnal creatures had gone silent. Even the insects, which should have filled the night with their endless buzzing, were absent.
He tightened his grip on his sword.
Then—movement.
A shape slithered through the treetops, impossibly silent. Jian barely had time to react before a presence flickered at the edge of his perception—a pulse of something ancient and dangerous.
His body moved on instinct. He twisted aside as a black blur dropped from the trees, hitting the ground where he had stood just moments before. The impact sent a spray of dirt and debris into the air.
Jian didn't hesitate. He pivoted, blade flashing in the moonlight, slashing toward his attacker. But the figure was faster. A gloved hand deflected his strike with precise, effortless movement, and in the next instant, a crushing force slammed into his chest.
He staggered backward, breath stolen from his lungs.
The figure stepped into the dim light. Cloaked in flowing, obsidian robes, their face was obscured beneath a smooth, expressionless mask. A whisper of dark energy coiled around them, shifting like living smoke.
Jian steadied his stance, exhaling sharply. This wasn't some random observer. This was something else.
"You've been marked," the figure spoke, their voice a hollow echo. "The Council watches, but we act."
Jian's eyes narrowed. "And who are you supposed to be?"
The figure tilted their head slightly, considering him. "A necessary force. A shadow