Morning came with a crisp chill, the forest draped in a thin veil of mist. Ethan stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. His body still hummed with the lingering effects of his newly absorbed ability, the Void Panther's power whispering at the edges of his mind.
Lyra was already up, crouched near the remnants of their fire. She was sharpening her dagger, her expression tense.
Ethan stretched. "You're up early."
She glanced at him, then back at her blade. "Didn't sleep much."
That wasn't surprising. After last night's battle, neither of them had truly let their guard down. Ethan had sensed something watching them, but whether it was paranoia or something real, he wasn't sure.
He stood, adjusting the gloves covering his hands. The fire had burned low, leaving only embers. "We should move. I want to test my new ability in a real setting."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Not satisfied with sneaking around camp?"
Ethan smirked. "I need to know how far I can push it. How long I can stay hidden, how much energy it takes."
She sighed, standing up and sliding her dagger into its sheath. "Fine. Just don't disappear on me for real."
They traveled deeper into the forest, their pace cautious. The trees were dense, their gnarled roots twisting over the earth. Ethan kept his senses sharp, testing his shadow-walking ability in short bursts. Each time, he slipped into the void-like state, moving soundlessly through the underbrush before reappearing.
Lyra watched with wary interest. "You're getting better at it."
"It feels…natural." Ethan admitted. "Like the system is adapting."
Lyra didn't respond right away. Instead, she scanned the forest, her expression hardening. "Something's off."
Ethan stilled. "What do you mean?"
She pointed to the ground. The dirt was disturbed, faint but visible—tracks. And not just from animals.
Boot prints.
Ethan's grip on his staff tightened. "How fresh?"
Lyra crouched, running her fingers along the indentations. "A few hours, maybe less." She looked up. "They're following us."
A cold tension settled over them.
Ethan focused, reaching into his new ability. The world shifted, the sounds of the forest growing sharper. The light dimmed slightly as he let the shadows fold around him. He took a step forward, silent as death.
Then he heard it.
Breathing. Low. Controlled.
He turned his head slightly, locking onto a cluster of trees up ahead. There, half-hidden in the foliage, was a figure. Cloaked in dark leathers, crouched like a predator. A blade rested in their grip, their stance one of patience.
A hunter.
Ethan exhaled slowly. They weren't alone.
He reached back, barely brushing Lyra's arm. She tensed but said nothing.
Then, just as he processed the first hunter's position, another flicker of movement caught his eye.
Three more.
Surrounding them.
Ethan's heart pounded. Whoever these people were, they were professionals. And they were waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He turned slightly, still cloaked in shadows, and whispered so only Lyra could hear.
"We're surrounded."
Her hand flexed near her dagger. "How many?"
"Four. Maybe more."
She took a slow breath. "Can you take one out before they know what's happening?"
Ethan's grip tightened around his staff. He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Instead, he slipped fully into the shadows—vanishing from sight as he moved toward the nearest hunter, silent as the void itself.
The game had begun.