I followed Isabelle through the warehouse district, keeping my eyes peeled for the Gate markers. The morning sun cast long shadows between buildings, giving everything an eerie, abandoned feeling despite being in the heart of the city.
"So," Isabelle said without turning around, "five won."
I nearly tripped over my own feet. "What?"
"Don’t play dumb, Nakano. It doesn’t suit you." She glanced back at , those wine-red eyes dancing with amusent. "Natalia, the blue-haired healer, the illusionist, the President’s sister, and that loud blonde one who constantly adjusts her top when you walk in."
"You’ve been watching that closely?"
"I observe everything." She shrugged one elegant shoulder. "It’s a habit."
"They’re just friends."
"And I’m just a humble peasant girl." She snorted softly. "Please. The temperature drops twenty degrees whenever Natalia sees another woman touch you."
I couldn’t argue with that. Natalia’s jealousy could probably solve global warming if we could harness it properly.
"What’s your point?" I asked, hefting my bat onto my shoulder.
"No point. rely curiosity." She paused at a street corner, checking the directions on her tracker. "Left here. And do try to keep up."
We turned down an alley lined with rusting cargo containers. The sll of salt water mixed with old tal hung in the air.
"Does it bother you?" I found myself asking.
"Your harem? Why would it?"
"It’s not a—" I stopped myself. "Never mind."
Isabelle laughed, a sound so unexpected and lodious it made stare. She almost never laughed. "For soone juggling five different won, you’re remarkably prudish about acknowledging it."
"I’m not prudish. It’s complicated."
"Life is always complicated, Nakano. The difference is how we choose to navigate it." She stopped suddenly, raising one hand. "We’re close."
The air had changed—thicker sohow, with a faint electric charge that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Reality sickness, the first warning sign of Gate proximity.
We rounded the corner into an empty lot between warehouses. There it was—a shimring vertical tear in reality about fifteen feet tall, its surface rippling like oil on water. The Gate’s blue coloration confird the standard classification.
Two VHC guards stood at the periter, looking bored. One glanced up as we approached.
"ID and clearance," he demanded.
We showed our temporary authorization bands. The guard checked them against his tablet.
"Standard C-Rank Blue. Spawns are primarily brute-type with moderate carapace protection. Single humanoid Boss-class entity at the core." He rattled off the information like a grocery list. "Your team designation?"
"Just us," Isabelle replied.
The guard frowned. "Minimum team size for C-Rank is four."
"Exception protocol seven-three," Isabelle said smoothly. "Check your database."
The guard tapped on his tablet, his frown deepening before he sighed. "Right. The Abdicated Queen. Your exception is noted." He jerked his thumb toward the Gate. "You’ve got seven hours before pressure buildup reaches critical. Happy hunting."
As we approached the Gate, I glanced at Isabelle. "Exception protocol?"
"I ran solo operations for two years before entering the Academy." She adjusted her gauntlets. "My record speaks for itself."
"And they call you the Abdicated Queen?"
A flicker of sothing passed across her face. "rely a nickna. Are you ready?"
I gripped my bat tighter. "Ready."
Stepping through a Gate was always disorienting—like diving into ice-cold water while being spun in circles. For a mont, reality blurred, senses scrambled, and then we were through.
The inside of the Gate materialized around us—a vast cavern system with walls that pulsed with faint blue light. The air was humid and thick with the sll of wet stone and sothing faintly rotten.
"Charming," Isabelle murmured, unslinging her spear from her back. With a flick of her wrist, the weapon extended to its full length, almost six feet of lethal tal topped with a wicked point that glead in the blue light.
We moved forward cautiously, the only sounds our footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling.
"Let take point," I said. "My regen is better than yours."
Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Is it now? I don’t recall you listing enhanced regeneration among your registered abilities."
Shit. She’d caught slipping.
"Figure of speech," I backpedaled. "I just ant I’m better at taking hits."
"Hmm." That single syllable carried a mountain of skepticism, but she allowed to move ahead without further comnt.
The tunnel widened as we advanced, opening into a larger chamber with multiple pathways leading off in different directions. Standard Gate architecture—a maze designed to disorient and separate.
"Left or right?" I asked.
Isabelle closed her eyes for a mont, her head tilted slightly as if listening to sothing I couldn’t hear. "Left. The air current is stronger from that direction. It suggests a larger space ahead."
I nodded, impressed despite myself. It wasn’t Aspect-based detection; she’d simply trained her senses that well.
We’d gone maybe fifty yards down the left tunnel when I felt it—that prickle at the base of my skull that warned of incoming danger. I stopped, raising my hand.
Isabelle froze instantly behind , her body tensing like a coiled spring.
"How many?" she whispered.
"Can’t tell for certain," I murmured back, my voice barely above a whisper. "But they’re definitely close. Multiple targets, judging by the sound pattern."
As if the universe itself had been waiting for those words, a chorus of skittering sounds erupted from the darkness ahead—the sharp, rhythmic click-clack of hard, chitinous limbs striking stone in an unnatural cadence. The acoustics of the tunnel amplified the noise, making it impossible to pinpoint exact numbers.
"Step aside," Isabelle said quietly, moving forward with the unhurried grace of soone entering a ballroom rather than a combat zone. The air around her began to shift, almost imperceptibly at first—a faint shimr, like heat rising from sumr pavent. Then the wind ca alive, coalescing into threads of visible, viridian-green energy that spiraled around her body like living silk ribbons. Her Aspect—Fujin—was waking up.
The first creature erged from the gloom ahead, and I imdiately understood why these dungeons had a ninety-three percent fatality rate for unprepared civilians.
It was a beetle, but calling it that felt like calling a tiger "a big cat." The thing was the size of a full-grown mastiff, its segnted carapace gleaming with an oily, wet sheen under the pale light from our gear. Six serrated legs—each as thick as my forearm—supported a bulbous, armored body that looked like it could shrug off small-arms fire. At the front, two massive pincers opened and closed with an audible snap-snap-snap, the jagged inner edges glinting like organic saws.
And then it wasn’t alone.
Five more of the monstrosities scuttled out from the shadows behind their leader, their movents disturbingly coordinated as they fanned out to form a semi-circle that completely blocked the tunnel’s width. Their compound eyes reflected our lights like dozens of tiny, malevolent mirrors.
"Gate-Beetles," Isabelle identified, her tone as steady as if she were comnting on the weather. The wind around her continued to build, a low hum filling the air. "D-Rank individually. Simple-minded creatures, but their pack tactics and those pincers make them considerably more dangerous when grouped. I’ve seen them bisect full-grown n."
"Wonderful," I muttered, adjusting my two-handed grip on the bat. The weight felt reassuring in my hands. "What’s the play?"
"A standard flanking formation would be most appropriate." The green aura around Isabelle intensified further, her wine-red hair beginning to float upward as if suspended in water, defying gravity entirely. She looked like so ancient war goddess preparing to descend upon the battlefield. "I will engage the three on the right flank. You will handle the left. We converge in the center once our respective sides are cleared."
She paused, her crimson eyes flicking toward with sothing that might have been actual concern. "And Satori? Try very hard not to get pinched. Their mandibles generate approximately twelve thousand newtons of force per square centiter. They can shear through standard-issue Hunter armor as if it were wet paper."
I barked out a short laugh despite the situation. "Yeah, I’ll do my best to avoid that. Noted and filed under ’things I don’t want happening to today.’"
The beetles charged all at once, their legs a blur of motion against the stone floor. I activated Kinetic Absorption silently, preparing to let the first hit land to power up.
The lead beetle lunged at , pincers spread wide. I sidestepped, letting it crash past before swinging my bat down hard on its back. The carapace cracked with a satisfying crunch, but the creature rely staggered rather than collapsing.
Tougher than they looked.
The second beetle caught in the side, its mandibles scraping against my armor but not quite penetrating. The Kinetic Absorption kicked in, converting fifteen percent of the impact into temporary strength.
I felt the familiar rush of power—like caffeine hitting my bloodstream all at once. My next swing was faster, harder, catching the damaged beetle right between its antennae. This ti, the carapace split completely, dark ichor spraying from the wound.
One down.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Isabelle dancing between her opponents, her spear a blur of motion as she stabbed and slashed with inhuman precision. The green wind surrounding her deflected the beetles’ attacks, turning their mandibles aside at the last second.
My remaining two beetles circled cautiously, apparently learning from their fallen comrade. They were coordinating, trying to flank from both sides.
I grinned. Perfect.
I let one charge head-on while the other moved to attack from behind. At the last second, I activated Shade Cloak, montarily dissolving into shadow. The beetles crashed into each other with a sickening crunch.
As I rematerialized, I brought my bat down on both of them in a single, powerful stroke that pulverized their joined carapaces. More ichor sprayed across the stone floor, hissing faintly where it landed.
I turned to help Isabelle, only to find her standing calmly amidst three beetle corpses, not a single strand of hair out of place. Her spear dripped with the sa dark fluid that covered my bat.
"Adequately handled," she said, her tone suggesting mild approval.
"High praise coming from you."
She smiled faintly. "I reserve my highest complints for truly exceptional performances."
"I’ll have to try harder next ti."
"See that you do." She flicked her spear, sending drops of ichor spattering against the wall. "Shall we continue?"
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