Kael did not stop running until his lungs burned and the mountain air turned thin and sharp in his throat.
The dead zone Lirien had shown him was worse up close.
The terrain twisted unnaturally, slopes folding into each other at impossible angles. Trees grew crooked, their roots exposed as if the ground itself refused to hold them. Spiritual energy didn't flow here—it hesitated, moving in short, broken pulses before dispersing entirely.
Kael felt it immediately.
The hunger inside him did not recoil.
It expanded carefully, adjusting to the warped environment like something learning a new terrain.
That scared him more than exhaustion.
He slowed only when the pressure in his chest became unbearable, stumbling into a narrow crevice hidden behind collapsed stone. Kael slid down against the rock, gasping, hands trembling as he wiped blood from his mouth.
"So this is what 'run' means now," he muttered.
His body ached in unfamiliar ways—not injury, not strain, but structural resistance. Every movement tugged against the anchored space inside him, as if his own existence had become heavier.
He closed his eyes briefly.
The hunger responded—quiet, alert.
Not hungry.
Aware.
Kael opened his eyes sharply.
Someone was near.
---
They moved with discipline.
Three figures advanced through the ruins of the outer mountain path, each step measured, formations shifting seamlessly as they adapted to the terrain.
These were not sect disciples.
They were older.
Sharper.
Hunters.
At their center walked a woman dressed in dark gray robes trimmed with silver thread. Her black hair was tied high, her posture relaxed but ready, eyes scanning the environment with practiced ease.
"This area resists tracking," one of the men said quietly. "Flow distortion is unstable."
The woman nodded. "Expected."
She knelt, placing two fingers against the ground. Faint lines of light rippled outward, then bent sharply inward, vanishing.
Her lips curved.
"He passed through here," she said. "Recently."
One of the men frowned. "But the trail—"
"Is being eaten," she finished. "Or folded."
Silence followed.
"That confirms it," the third hunter said slowly. "He's not hiding. The anomaly is… adapting."
The woman stood.
"Good," she said. "That makes this hunt interesting."
---
Kael felt the pressure spike.
He didn't know how he knew—only that something about the world had shifted. The hunger tightened subtly, drawing inward, compressing space around his body until even his breathing felt muted.
He held still.
Footsteps echoed faintly nearby.
Kael forced his heart rate down, biting his lip until he tasted blood. Panic would distort the hunger—and distortion would be noticed.
A shadow passed across the mouth of the crevice.
Kael's muscles coiled.
The shadow paused.
"Blood," a voice said calmly. Female. Controlled. "Fresh."
Kael cursed silently.
He didn't wait.
The hunger surged—not outward, but sideways.
Space folded.
Kael burst from the crevice at an angle that shouldn't have existed, crashing through brush and stone as a blade of compressed air sliced cleanly through the space he'd occupied a heartbeat earlier.
"Contact!" someone shouted.
Kael ran.
Not blindly this time.
The dead zone twisted around him, and for the first time, he used it.
He pulled just enough space inward to misalign his position, causing attacks to land half a step behind where he actually was. Trees split. Stone shattered.
Kael felt each pull tear at his core.
But he stayed ahead.
For now.
---
The woman watched him retreat, eyes gleaming.
"Did you see that?" one hunter said breathlessly. "He's not accelerating—he's repositioning."
"Yes," she replied softly. "He's learning."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And he's hurt."
She raised her hand.
"Spread formation," she ordered. "Do not engage directly. Pressure only."
The hunters moved instantly, vanishing into the terrain.
The woman stepped forward alone.
---
Kael stumbled as pain flared through his chest, dropping to one knee behind a jagged outcrop. His vision blurred, spots dancing at the edges.
"Too much," he whispered.
The hunger trembled—warning, not protest.
Kael forced himself upright.
Then—
A presence.
Not behind him.
Not ahead.
Beside.
"Running won't save you," the woman's voice said calmly.
Kael spun.
She stood only a few meters away, hands relaxed at her sides, eyes sharp and curious rather than hostile.
"You're good," Kael said hoarsely. "I didn't hear you."
She smiled faintly. "You weren't meant to."
Silence stretched.
"You're not a Witness," Kael said.
"No," she agreed. "I'm worse."
She studied him openly.
"You're the anomaly," she said. "The one Heaven hesitated over."
Kael clenched his fists. "Then you already know I won't come quietly."
"Of course not," she replied. "If you did, Heaven wouldn't care."
Her gaze flicked briefly to his chest.
"That anchoring… painful?"
Kael's eyes widened.
"You can see it."
"I can sense absence behaving like matter," she said. "That's rare."
She stepped closer.
"My name is Serah Veyne," she said. "And I don't hunt because Heaven commands me."
Kael tensed.
"I hunt," she continued, "because anomalies decide the future."
The ground vibrated faintly.
The other hunters were closing in.
Serah stopped a few steps away.
"Come with us," she said. "Not as a prisoner."
Kael laughed bitterly. "And be dissected?"
"No," she replied honestly. "Observed. Studied. Possibly recruited."
Kael shook his head. "I don't trust Heaven."
"Neither do I," Serah said softly.
Kael froze.
Before he could respond, the hunger flared violently—sensing something massive shifting far away.
Not hunters.
Something else.
Serah's expression changed instantly.
"…That's not ours," she muttered.
The sky darkened.
A pressure far heavier than before began to descend.
Kael felt it in his bones.
Serah looked at him sharply.
"You didn't just attract hunters," she said. "You attracted competition."
A shadow moved across the clouds—vast, slow, deliberate.
Kael swallowed.
"What kind?"
Serah's lips tightened.
"The kind that hunts laws," she said.
And far away, beneath layers of broken seals, Lirien opened her eyes.