The message was received.
In a shadowy corner of a bustling city's back-alley market, Rive checked his anonymous bounty drop-box. Inside was the [Bounty Puck] from the Ranger he had lost, just as he'd expected. But attached to it was a single, gray-black piece of petrified wood that still radiated a faint warmth. An [Ashwood Coal].
For a moment, Rive was confused. Then, the meaning crashed down on him with the force of a physical blow. It wasn't a threat. It was a taunt. A trophy. The Tamer wasn't just surviving in the deathtrap of the Ashen Fields; he was thriving. He was gathering the very resources of the land and sending them back as a calling card. He was claiming the wasteland as his own.
A guttural roar of pure fury erupted from Rive's throat. Logic and strategy were consumed by his all-encompassing rage. He stormed over to the Shadow Market's bounty master and doubled the price on Lucas's head, adding a public note for all to see.
Target confirmed to be operating in the Ashen Fields. High-risk, high-reward. Zone is environmentally hazardous. Bring fire resistance.
He thought he was giving the hunters an advantage. In reality, he was cementing a legend.
A week passed. To Lucas, the Ashen Fields had become a grueling but predictable routine. He spent his days systematically harvesting the [Ashwood Coals], his fire-resistance potions a constantly dwindling resource. The [Searing Heat] debuff was a permanent fixture in his vision, a constant pressure that kept his senses sharp. He had reached Level 11, the experience gained from the hostile, fire-aligned monsters and the occasional, foolish bounty hunter.
The nature of his pursuers had changed. The amateur opportunists had been filtered out, scared off by the wasteland's reputation and the growing legend of the Tamer who haunted it. Now, only the professionals came. They were skilled, cautious, and they came prepared.
It didn't matter.
A skilled assassin tried to ambush him during a moment of distraction. But Lucas's [System Insight], combined with Kael's preternatural senses, detected the stealthed player long before he could strike. The assassin's opening attack, which should have been a lethal blow, was met by Kael's body, newly hardened with the [Imbue Essence: Earth] skill. The daggers scraped uselessly against stone-like fur. The assassin's eyes widened in shock, and in that moment of hesitation, Lucas switched the imbue. [Imbue Essence: Fire]. Kael, now wreathed in a faint, fiery aura, turned the tables with a savagery born of the very fields they fought in.
The legend of the "Quarry Ghost" was being replaced by a new, more terrifying moniker whispered in the Shadow Market: the Ash-Wolf. A monster who hunted not with traps, but with a tamed beast that could command the very elements of the land it protected.
Lucas had finally gathered the last of the coals. The bounty timer had ticked past the halfway mark. It was almost time to leave. As he was planning his exfiltration, a private message chimed. It was Evelyn.
My guild's analysts have been tracking the Shadow Market. The bounty on your head has doubled, and the issuer just posted your general location. The entire PK community is mobilizing. This is getting bigger than just one angry survivor. Are you still alive? More importantly, what did you do?
The message was a complex tapestry of professional curiosity, intelligence sharing, and something that felt almost like concern. She was no longer just his rival; she was becoming his most unlikely source of information.
He looked at his map. The [Ashwood Coals] were secured. But the [Heart Iron Ore] still waited in the Ironpeak Mountains. He now knew, with absolute certainty, that every route out of the Ashen Fields, and every path into the mountains, would be watched. The bounty hunters, having failed to beat him in his fortress, would be waiting to ambush him in the open.
He couldn't fight them all. He needed a new variable. An overwhelming, system-shattering advantage.
He looked at Evelyn's message. Then he began to type.
I'm fine. I need to get to the Ironpeak Mountains without being followed. The hunters are watching every exit to this zone.
He paused, a cold, strategic smile touching his lips. It was time to play his trump card.
I'm calling in the debt. Create a diversion.