Keegan didn't realize the power was fading at first. The shadow panther head above his own flickered once, then again, its amber eyes dimming. His legs trembled, muscles suddenly heavy, as if gravity itself had doubled. Each breath felt shallow and sharp, scraping his lungs. The rain-soaked docks spun slightly, and he staggered forward, barely catching himself on a crate. That was when he understood the cost. The Blink Hemarch wasn't weakening—it was shutting down.
A cold sensation crept through his veins, replacing the heat of rage and adrenaline. His vision blurred at the edges, and his heartbeat slowed unnaturally. Blood loss. Too much healing, too much power drawn too fast. The shadow over his head dissolved completely, leaving only his own labored breathing in the dark. Keegan dropped to one knee, then both, hands trembling against the wood. Without Blink, without the fragment's support, he was just a broken sixteen-year-old again. And the docks were never empty for long.
Something moved nearby. A scraping sound echoed between the containers, metal dragging against metal. Keegan forced his head up, eyes barely focusing through the haze. From between the crates emerged a small, hunched figure, its arms elongated into jagged blades. The Knife Hemarch, E-rank—low-tier, fast, and vicious. Fear spiked through Keegan's chest, sharp and immediate. Under normal circumstances, he could have handled it. Right now, he could barely stand.
The Knife Hemarch rushed him. Keegan rolled clumsily to the side, the blade missing his neck by inches and embedding into the crate behind him. Pain flared as he pushed himself upright, legs screaming in protest. He swung his pipe weakly, the impact glancing off the creature's shoulder with little effect. Blood dripped from his nose, dark and warm against his lips. His body felt hollow, drained, like something essential had been pulled out. The Blink Hemarch was silent. Watching, but offering nothing.
The Knife Hemarch slashed again, carving a shallow line across Keegan's ribs. He cried out, staggering back, nearly collapsing. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to stay upright. Rage wouldn't save him this time. Neither would desperation. He had to think. He had to survive without power.
Keegan backed toward the edge of the dock, rain slick beneath his boots. The Knife Hemarch lunged, overcommitting, blades raised high. Keegan ducked beneath the strike and smashed the pipe into its knee joint with everything he had left. Bone cracked. The creature shrieked, stumbling forward. Keegan followed through, striking again, and again, each blow slower, heavier than the last. Blood sprayed across the planks, mixing with rain.
His arms burned, lungs screaming for air. The Knife Hemarch recovered quickly, slashing wildly, forcing Keegan to retreat. Every step felt like it might be his last. His vision darkened, pulse thudding painfully in his ears. This was the difference between a hunter with a Pact and one without. This was the price of borrowing power you couldn't yet sustain.
The creature lunged one final time. Keegan braced himself, lifting the pipe in both hands. He met the charge head-on, slamming the pipe straight through the creature's skull as it closed the distance. The impact jolted his arms, nearly dislocating his shoulder. The Knife Hemarch collapsed instantly, twitching before going still. Silence returned to the docks, broken only by Keegan's ragged breathing.
He fell backward onto the wet planks, staring up at the dark sky. His body shook uncontrollably, blood loss catching up to him all at once. Somewhere deep inside, he felt the Blink Hemarch stir faintly, distant and detached. Not helping. Just observing. The message was clear. Power required fuel, and that fuel was blood.
Keegan forced himself to sit up, tearing a strip from his soaked shirt to press against his ribs. His hands were slick with blood—his own and the Hemarch's. Every movement hurt, but he stayed conscious through sheer stubbornness. He had survived again, not through power, but through grit. That mattered. He didn't know why, but it did.
The realization settled heavily in his chest. The Blink Hemarch wasn't a savior. It was a system, a contract, an exchange governed by limits. Blood was the cost, and overuse meant collapse or death. If he wanted to grow stronger, he would have to learn control, restraint, and timing. Rage alone wouldn't be enough next time.
Keegan pushed himself to his feet, legs shaking but holding. The docks stretched before him, dark and unforgiving, littered with bodies and echoes of violence. He was still alive. Still a hunter. Still F-rank. But now he understood the truth: power didn't make him safe—it just raised the stakes. And the Blink Hemarch, silent once more, was already watching how he adapted.