The report didn't look like much at first glance. Ryen stood alone in front of a dimly lit screen, watching lines of data scroll slowly by. Dungeon logs, clear times, team compositions—on the surface, it all looked normal. In fact, it was too normal.
"…That's the problem," he muttered to the empty room. He replayed the last mission recording. He didn't look at the video; he looked at the fragments—the movement logs, the impact timings, and the reaction delays. Then, he found it. A spike. A break in the pattern. The creature's movement had been interrupted, but there was no visible cause. No mana surge, no external skill.
"What stopped it?" Ryen whispered, leaning back as his eyes narrowed. It couldn't be a coincidence. He pulled up older reports: unstable dungeons, anonymous teams, and suspiciously fast completions. A pattern began to form. It wasn't clean or obvious, but it was consistent. Whenever something unusual happened, Kai Veyron was nearby.
Ryen stared at the name longer than necessary. There was no direct evidence—no recorded ability or classified skill that explained it. And yet...
"You're always there," Ryen breathed. "Not leading, not in the center. Just... present." He exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes. Was he overthinking this? It could be bad data or incomplete logs. But his instincts didn't agree. He opened a new file and labeled it: Subject: [Irregular Dungeon Behavior].
He paused, his fingers hovering over the keys. He didn't write Kai's name—not yet. Instead, he typed: "Multiple instances of unexplained combat interruptions observed. Behavior does not match known hunter abilities." That was enough for now. He saved the file and leaned back. "Let's see where this goes."
Meanwhile — Kai
The room was too quiet. Kai sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees, replaying the fight in his mind. He kept coming back to that one moment—the moment he let it slip.
"Too much," he muttered. He looked down. The shadow beneath him moved. It wasn't free, but it was restless, twisting slightly like something alive and watching him back. Kai frowned. "You're getting bold."
The shadow didn't respond, but the heavy feeling remained. He raised his hand, focusing his intent. The shadow reacted, a thin strand lifting toward his palm before snapping back into place.
"Still not enough control," Kai said, his grip tightening. If it got worse—if it slipped out in public—there would be no going back. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "Han was right. I need to get stronger. Not just power... I need control."
The next day came fast. Kai headed to the training space early, preferring the silence before the other hunters arrived. He moved deliberately, each step measured. He wasn't training to win; he was training to restrain.
His shadow followed with a slight delay, a lingering resistance that felt like it was fighting his will. "Focus," he hissed. For a second, it worked. The movement was clean and controlled. Then, it twitched, breaking form.
"Damn it."
"Interesting." Kai spun around. Ryen was standing near the entrance with his arms crossed.
"You're up early," Ryen said, stepping into the room. His eyes flicked briefly to the ground—to Kai's shadow—before meeting Kai's gaze.
"Could say the same to you," Kai replied, straightening his posture.
"Training alone? Makes sense. Fewer distractions," Ryen said. A heavy silence followed. Ryen studied him, his gaze sharpening. "You adapt quickly, Kai."
"I try."
"That's not what I meant," Ryen said, stepping closer. "In the dungeon... we all adapted. But not the same way."
Kai didn't deny it, but he didn't confirm it either. He just watched. Ryen finally exhaled, turning toward the door. "Forget it. Just be careful on the next mission."
Kai frowned. "Next mission?"
Ryen glanced back over his shoulder. "You didn't hear? We've been assigned again. And this one's worse."
As Ryen walked away, his face remained calm, but his mind was racing. You're hiding something, he thought. It wasn't a guess anymore. It was a certainty. And this time, he was going to find out exactly what it was.