Morning in the Scavenger's Lane came not with sunlight, but with noise.
The hawkers were already shouting over one another, peddling stale bread, cracked gear, and dubious "beast parts" to anyone desperate enough to buy. The smell of frying oil and smoke mixed with the sharper tang of drying hides hung from market stalls.
Kael moved through it with his hood up, the crowd flowing around him. He'd slept barely an hour since he and Ryn climbed back over the east wall. His mind kept replaying the encounter in the wilds — the cloaked figure, the submission of the hounds, the clean cut on the Fireclaw's throat.
It all pointed to a bigger game than simple poaching.
Ryn had vanished into the market's northern alleys to "follow her own leads," as she'd put it. Kael didn't press. Trust between them was still fragile, and in their world, information was as valuable as GP stones.
He was just passing a weapons stall when the shouting changed.
Not bargaining. Not the usual street insults. Panic.
People surged down the lane toward him, pushing and stumbling. Kael caught snatches of words — "beast," "south gate," "fire."
He pushed against the flow, weaving between bodies until the crowd thinned enough for him to see.
Smoke curled above the rooftops two streets over, black and thick. The sound of splintering wood carried through the air, followed by the unmistakable roar of something not human.
Kael's pace quickened. He ducked into a side street, vaulted a stack of crates, and emerged onto the next avenue.
Chaos.
A cart lay overturned, wheels still spinning. The wall of a tannery was blackened and cracked, heat radiating from it in waves. A woman clutched a child and ran past him, eyes wide with terror.
Then he saw it.
A beast, long and lean, with scales instead of fur and a maw lined with needle teeth. Flames flickered between those teeth, lighting the air with every snarl.
Flameserpent Drake. Low C-Rank. Normally confined to volcanic hunting zones.
And it was inside the city.
The Guild was already there — three hunters in their brown-and-gold coats, trying to corral the beast away from the main thoroughfare. One had a spear, another a hooked chain, the third a bow. They were competent, but the drake was faster, weaving between strikes and snapping at anything in reach.
The sight made Kael's jaw clench.
This was no accident.
The drake lunged toward the tannery's open doorway. Inside, Kael glimpsed two workers scrambling back, one slipping on the wet floor.
No time to think.
He sprinted forward, angling to intercept. Stonehide surged under his skin as he slid across the wet cobbles, planting himself between the drake and the doorway.
The beast's eyes locked on him, pupils narrowing.
It struck.
Kael met it head-on, catching the edge of its jaw with his knife and shoving hard. The Stonehide let him hold his ground against the impact, the blade biting into the scaled hide just enough to draw blood.
Hot, sharp, fire-laced blood sprayed across his hand. The heat bit into his skin, but the familiar rush began almost instantly.
[C-Rank (Low) | GP: 110+ 20= 135]
The drake hissed, rearing back. Kael pressed the attack, slashing at its neck while the Guild hunters moved in to flank.
One hunter swung the hooked chain, catching the drake's forelimb and yanking. Another stabbed for the exposed side. The third loosed an arrow that buried itself just above the beast's shoulder.
The drake roared, the sound rattling the windows, and lashed out with its tail. Kael ducked, but the blow caught the spearman full in the chest, sending him crashing into a barrel.
Kael's eyes narrowed. This thing wasn't just aggressive — it was fighting like it had purpose.
And that made him think of the hounds.
"Push it toward the gate!" one of the hunters shouted.
Kael ignored them, feinting left and then driving his knife into the joint where the drake's foreleg met its body. The beast screamed, flames bursting from its mouth in a reflexive gout.
Heat washed over him, but the Stonehide dulled the burn enough for him to keep his grip. He twisted the blade, then yanked it free, stepping back as the drake stumbled.
Another chain strike looped its neck, pulling it off balance. The hunters seized the moment, dragging it toward the gate.
It took all three of them — and Kael's steady pressure at its flank — to get the beast through the street and into the Guild's outer pen. Once inside, they slammed the reinforced gate shut, the drake hissing and throwing itself against the bars.
Kael stepped back, catching his breath. His knife was slick with black-red blood that still smoked faintly in the cool air.
One of the hunters — the bowman — looked at him sharply. "You're not Guild. How'd you hold that thing off?"
Kael shrugged, wiping the blade on his coat. "Got lucky."
The man's gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned away.
Kael melted into the dispersing crowd, slipping down an alley to avoid further questions. His heart was still pounding, not from the fight, but from what it meant.
A drake in the city wasn't a random breach. Someone had brought it here — or driven it here.
And just like the hounds and the Fireclaw, it fought with an unnatural coordination, adapting to multiple attackers as though guided.
He reached his shack without incident, bolting the door behind him. From the satchel, he pulled an empty vial and scraped what blood he could from the blade. Not much, but enough to keep.
The knock came before he'd even finished sealing it.
Three quick raps. Pause. Two more.
Ryn's signal.
She slipped inside, eyes sharp, hair damp with sweat. "I saw the smoke. That was you, wasn't it?"
Kael arched a brow. "What, the fire or the beast?"
She ignored the jab, scanning the shack. "I've been hearing things. Attacks like that drake aren't isolated. There were two others last night in the merchant quarter — one Lightning-aligned, one Earth. Both beasts from zones they shouldn't be anywhere near."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Shaper."
Ryn nodded grimly. "It's escalating. They're not just herding beasts for kills anymore — they're pushing them into population centers. This is a message."
Kael frowned. "Message to who? The Guild?"
"Maybe. Or maybe they want the Guild too busy cleaning up the city to notice what's happening in the zones." She leaned forward. "We have to find them, Kael. Before the Guild starts rounding up suspects."
He knew she was right. But he also knew what a city-wide hunt would mean. If the Guild even suspected he was tied to these attacks, Stonehide or not, he wouldn't walk away.
"We need proof," he said finally. "And not just that they exist — proof they're behind this."
Ryn smirked faintly. "Lucky for you, I have a lead. One of my contacts in the black market says the Shaper's been trading in… unusual blood. High GP density, but tainted. Beasts shaped to bleed differently."
Kael's stomach turned. "When?"
"Tonight. Docks district. You in?"
He didn't hesitate. "I'm in."
Ryn's smirk widened just enough to show teeth. "Good. Bring something sharp."
She slipped back out into the street, leaving Kael alone with the faint heat still coiling in his veins from the drake's blood.
Tonight, they might finally get close enough to cut the Shaper's trail.
But the docks were Guild-patrolled territory — and Kael had no illusions about what would happen if they got caught hunting there.