XLII

The wary glances were impossible to miss. Hunters around me shifted subtly, keeping their distance as though proximity alone might invite danger. I hadn’t used Soul Links or Soul Marks since the seventh exam ended, and any connections I’d left before had long faded. Still, the stories about my abilities had clearly made the rounds. Their caution spoke volumes.

Some hunters’ gazes lingered a beat too long, watching me as if bracing to dodge an attack. They knew what I could do—knew that a single link or mark could expose them, leave them vulnerable in ways they couldn’t defend against. It was fine by me. Their distance wasn’t just a courtesy; it was a tactical advantage.

I glanced down at the paper Geoffrey had handed me earlier. It felt surreal, almost like a joke—the real name and public identity of the Elsewhere Cult’s Prophet.

For a moment, I thought Geoffrey might be playing me, feeding me false leads to throw me off. But the details were too precise, the delivery too deliberate. This wasn’t a bluff. It was real.

The weight of it hit me all at once. The Prophet wasn’t just another high-ranking member of the cult. They were a keystone, a strategist who anticipated threats and scouted potential recruits. Knowing their identity was a game-changer, a thread that could unravel the cult’s web of influence.

But the realization brought its own frustration. I wasn’t ready. My network wasn’t strong enough, my resources too limited. If I acted on this now, the cult would see me coming from a mile away. Worse, they’d retaliate—and I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could withstand that kind of backlash.

No, this wasn’t the time. I needed to bide my time, gather allies, and build my strength. For now, the information would stay with me, a weapon waiting for the right moment.

Selena’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “What was that bet about? What did you win?”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Classified. But I can tell you what Geoffrey was after.”

Her curiosity flared as she leaned forward. “Alright, spill it. What did he want?”

I held back a laugh. “Information on Excalibur.”

Selena raised an eyebrow, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. “No way. You’re kidding.”

Before I could respond, Black spoke up, his tone calm and measured. “It might not be a joke. Geoffrey wagered the same thing against Joe, the airship captain.”

Selena’s jaw dropped slightly, and she let out a low whistle. “No shit.”

I leaned back in my chair, twirling my fork as I processed the implications. The Prophet, the cult’s strategist, was responsible for identifying threats and recruiting talent. And then there was the cult’s leader—Sebastian Moore. I didn’t know who he was, but I intended to find out. With the right tools, a little research could go a long way.

Selena interrupted my train of thought. “Why the gloomy face?”

I sighed. “I need the internet, that’s why.”

Without a word, Selena smirked and reached for the waistband of her jeans. For a split second, I thought she was just messing with me—until she pulled out a miniature object hidden beneath the fabric. With a quick flick, she activated it, and the tiny item expanded into a full-sized laptop.

She grinned, holding it up like a trophy. “Wi-Fi, ready to go. You’re welcome.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wow… just wow.”

“Go on,” she teased, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Praise me more.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide my grin. “You should’ve told me about this earlier! I could’ve video-called my wife!”

“Yeah, well…” She smirked, flipping the screen open. “Too bad.”

“Just kidding,” I said, watching her fight back a laugh. “But seriously, thanks. I could use some… calls. That aside, your ability is broken.”

Selena’s grin widened as she booted up the laptop. “You’re just jealous.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, already running through the possibilities her little gadget had just opened up.

The blend of technology in this world was nothing short of baffling.

On the surface, everything seemed to lag a few decades behind—clunky phones, spotty internet, and vehicles that barely scraped by as modern. But dig deeper, and you’d find tech that defied logic: satellites capable of teleporting people and objects anywhere on the globe, precise to the millimeter.

The only explanation? The government—or someone above them—was hoarding the good stuff. Advanced technology was reserved for hunters, the military, and the elite, while the rest of the population got scraps. It was a system that reeked of control, a way to keep the masses dependent and docile.

I powered up Selena’s laptop and started typing. The keys clicked under my fingers as I searched for Sebastian Moore.

The results painted the picture of a man who was far from ordinary. Late fifties, graying hair, and a build that still carried an intimidating presence, Moore was the quintessential billionaire mogul. His empire spanned entertainment, tech, and real estate, cementing him as a household name. On the surface, he seemed like just another untouchable tycoon, but the deeper I dug, the more unsettling his connections became.

There were whispers—rumors of shadowy dealings and influence that stretched far beyond the entertainment world. His public image was pristine, but the undercurrents told a different story. If anyone fit the profile of the Elsewhere Cult’s Prophet, it was him.

Lunch ended with Selena, Black, and I going our separate ways. The rooms for the next stage were assigned based on our rankings from the seventh exam, and my performance had just barely landed me in Room 99.

The hallway to the rooms was lined with doors, each glowing softly with numbers that adjusted as hunters approached. The system used aura-sensing tech to confirm each person’s rank, ensuring no one could cheat their way into a better room.

When I reached mine, the number above the door lit up as I approached. The faint hum of the scanner buzzed against my skin, and then the door unlocked with a soft click. I stepped inside, letting the weight of the day’s chaos settle on my shoulders.

The room was small but functional, designed for efficiency rather than luxury. A bed, a desk, and a single chair were the only furnishings. I kicked off my boots, changed into something more comfortable, and stretched out on the bed. The mattress was firm but inviting, and the pull of sleep was immediate.

I don’t know how long I was out before I woke up with a jolt. There was a strange sense of déjà vu, like I’d been here before, but something was off.

Before I could fully process it, a faint rush of air tickled my ear. I turned sharply, catching a flash of blonde hair and an eerily familiar face staring down at me.

“Atropos?” I blinked, my mind struggling to catch up. “What are you doing in my bed?”

The maid stood there, as composed as ever, her face unreadable. She was dressed in her usual uniform—a black-and-white ensemble that somehow managed to be both elegant and borderline indecent. Her curves, emphasized by the outfit, made the situation even more absurd.

Her response was deadpan and completely unexpected. “I am here to get laid.”

I stared at her, completely baffled. “What?”

Atropos tilted her head, her expression unchanged. “You heard me.”

I groaned, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. “Look, I know you can’t actually… you know. Ninety-seven percent of your body isn’t even human anymore.”

“Boring,” she replied flatly, standing up as if I were the one being unreasonable.

I sighed, trying to keep my cool. “What do you want, Atropos? Really.”

Her reply didn’t help. “I can change my parts if needed. Ever heard the saying, ‘If there is a hole, there is a goal?’”

Flirting with an entirely emotionless tone shouldn’t have been possible, and yet, here she was, proving me wrong. She followed her statement with a subtle gesture and a look that was somehow both lewd and completely detached.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, exasperated. “Atropos, I swear—”

“Relax,” she interrupted, her tone as flat as ever. “I’m here for business.”

I shot her a skeptical look. “You’ve got a funny way of announcing that.”

Atropos paused, tilting her head slightly, her golden hair catching the dim light. “I am joking,” she said, her voice becoming flat.

Of course, she was joking! I knew that. But damn it—why was I so flustered?

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to push the unsettling thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time to get thrown off by Atropos’s odd sense of humor—or whatever that was. I needed to focus.

“I’ll ask again,” I said, my voice firmer this time. “What do you want?”

Atropos didn’t answer right away. She studied me with those unnervingly steady eyes, her face as unreadable as always. Then, finally, she spoke. “I heard you want to join the Hunting Dogs.”

I frowned, suspicion prickling at the back of my mind. “Are you my… proctor?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her tone betraying no emotion. “I requested the assignment.”

I narrowed my eyes. Why would she do that? What was her angle here?

“And your point in coming here?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Atropos stood up, her movements smooth and precise. For a moment, I thought she was going to finally give me a straight answer. Instead, her words were like ice water poured over my ambitions.

“Please withdraw your application,” she said, her voice calm but with an edge of finality. “You aren’t fit to join the Hunting Dogs. I will fail you. You are weak, and you don’t have the mentality to do what we do. Please, don’t even think about joining the Hunting Dogs.”

Her words hit me like a slap. Before I could respond, she continued, her gaze locking onto mine with a rare intensity.

“And the Elsewhere Cult?” she added, her voice dropping lower. “I will deal with them. They’ve violated Hunter relations to a great degree, so the Association will intervene. Stay out of it.”

Her tone was as cold and detached as always, but there was something else there—a weight, a clarity that made me pause. This wasn’t just criticism or dismissal. She was warning me.

But why?

I stared at her, frustration bubbling up alongside confusion. “What’s your problem?” I asked, trying to keep my tone steady. “Why do you care so much? The Hunting Dogs are always in need of capable hunters, and I’ve proven myself more than once. So why this sudden crusade to keep me out?”

Atropos’s expression didn’t change, but her words carried an almost imperceptible undercurrent of something… personal.

“You are not capable,” she said simply. “Not for what the Hunting Dogs face. Not for the Elsewhere Cult. You think you are ready, but you aren’t. And if you continue down this path, you will die. That is not a prediction—it is a certainty.”

Her words were a blow, not just because of their content, but because of the way she said them. There was no malice, no condescension—just a cold, brutal certainty.

“And what about you?” I shot back, my frustration spilling over. “You think you can handle the Cult on your own? Without support, without allies? Don’t kid yourself, Atropos. You’re strong, but even you have limits.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something almost human crossing her face. “My limits are irrelevant,” she said. “The Association will handle the Elsewhere Cult. You will not. That is final.”

I shook my head, disbelief and anger swirling together. “You don’t get to decide that. Not for me.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.

Atropos was hiding something—I was sure of it now. Her insistence, her strange behavior, the almost desperate edge to her warnings… It wasn’t just about my safety or her role as a proctor. There was something deeper at play, something personal.

But she wasn’t going to tell me. Not yet.

“Fine,” I said at last, my voice quiet but firm. “You can warn me all you want, but I’m not backing down. If you think I’m not ready, then prove it. Fail me if you have to, but I’m not going to quit just because you said so.”

Atropos’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and then she turned toward the door. “You’ve been warned,” she said, her voice as emotionless as ever.

With that, she was gone, leaving me alone in the quiet room.

I sat back on the bed, my thoughts racing.

What was Atropos after?

~042