Mira laughed. It was sharp. Bitter. But genuine.
"You're either the bravest person I've met or the most suicidal. I can't decide which." She turned to the council. "I'm not approving this. Not yet. He needs to prove he can handle serious threats first."
"A test hunt," Garrick said.
"Exactly." Mira turned back to Reven. "There's a Scorchwing Drake pack terrorizing the eastern supply routes. Seven drakes, one alpha. They're preventing our hunters from reaching the forest where we gather lumber and medicinal herbs. Kill them or drive them off."
"And when I succeed?"
"Then I'll take your insane plan seriously. Maybe even join you." Mira's expression was grim. "But Reven? Scorchwings are nothing compared to a Mantle Colossus. If you can't handle the test hunt, you'll die on the real one. And I won't waste resources or risk other people's lives on someone who's going to get us all killed."
"Fair."
"When do you want to attempt it?"
Reven thought about his current condition. He was Level one. Even he didn't dispute that. And since he'd absorbed Vyraxes blood, he had minimal combat experience with is new "class". Abilities he barely understood to their fullest capabilities.
He was fragile. But not helpless.
"Tomorrow," he said. "I want one day to prepare. Study what we know about Scorchwings. Craft or acquire proper gear. Then I leave at dawn."
Mira nodded slowly. "Doran. You survived the Mantle Colossus attempt. You willing to share what you know about Elder-class hunts?"
The scarred hunter stepped forward. Looked at Reven with something that might have been pity. "I'll tell you everything. It won't make a difference, but at least you'll die knowing what's coming."
"Cheerful."
"You'll understand when I explain what a thermal wave feels like when it's cooking you inside your own armor."
The crowd began to disperse. People returned to their routines, conversations subdued. The crisis had been announced. A solution—however desperate—had been proposed. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Reven started toward his workshop, planning to review everything he knew about drakes and fire-aspected monsters—
"Reven."
He turned. Lysa stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You know this is suicide," she said flatly.
"The Scorchwing hunt?"
"All of it. The test hunt. The Colossus. This entire plan. You're going to die, and probably take others with you."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. Definitely." Lysa stepped closer. Her exhaustion was visible up close—the dark circles, the trembling hands, the hollow look of someone who'd been fighting losing battles too long. "I've been studying the heartstone for three years. I know exactly how bad this is. And I know that throwing inexperienced hunters at Elder-class monsters doesn't fix anything. It just creates more casualties."
"Then what's your solution?"
"Evacuation. Cut our losses. Abandon this place before the heartstone fails and we're trapped."
"Mira said there's nowhere to evacuate to."
"There are always options. They're just hard. Expensive. Humiliating." Lysa's voice was tight. "But they're better than watching people die for a settlement that was never viable in the first place."
Reven looked at her. Past the hostility to the fear underneath. "You don't believe Haven's Reach can survive."
"I believe the Guild Coalition was right when they declared us non-viable. I believe that sometimes places die and trying to save them just makes the ending worse." She met his eyes. "And I believe you're going to get yourself killed for nothing."
"It's a chance," Reven said quietly. "And that's more than this place has right now."
"Why? You owe us nothing. You've been here two weeks. You could leave tomorrow, find somewhere else, start over—"
"And where would I go?" Reven gestured at himself—at the glowing veins, the corrupted essence, the visible mark of what he'd become. "Every Aegis I tried before this one turned me away. Scanned me and decided I was too dangerous, too corrupted, too other to let inside. Haven's Reach is the only place that gave me a chance. The only place that saw past what I am to what I can do."
"So this is gratitude?"
"This is reciprocity." He looked past her at the heartstone chamber. At the flickering light. "Nobody else gave me a chance when I needed one. Now you need one. Seems fair to return the favor."
Lysa was silent for a long moment.
"You're going to die," she said finally. But her voice had changed. Less hostile. More... resigned. Maybe even slightly hopeful despite herself.
"Probably. But if I succeed—if I actually manage to bring back those shards—then Haven's Reach survives. And maybe that's worth dying for."
"You really believe that?"
"I have to. Because if I don't believe it, then what was the point of surviving Vyraxes? What was the point of becoming this?" He gestured at himself again. "I died in that trench. The person I was—loyal guild hunter, decent smith, someone who followed orders and kept his head down—he died when Vyraxes looked at him. What came back is something different. Something that needs to mean something beyond just existing."
Lysa studied him. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. It was bitter but genuine.
"You're either incredibly brave or phenomenally stupid. I genuinely can't tell which."
"Why not both?"
"Because people who are both don't usually live long enough to find out which one they were." She turned to leave, then paused. "Reven? If you actually survive the Scorchwing hunt... if you actually prove you can handle real threats... I'll help you prepare for the Colossus. I'll give you everything I know about thermal dynamics, heartstone mechanics, and what you'll need to survive a volcanic environment."
"You'll help me kill myself?"
"I'll help you die slightly less quickly. There's a difference."
She walked away.
Lysa had voted against accepting him. She was the most vocal about the danger he posed, and now she was offering to help him with a suicide mission.
Maybe Haven's Reach was worth saving after all.
Doran met Reven in his workshop. The scarred hunter brought a bottle of something that smelled like it could strip paint, two cups, and a grim expression.
"You want to know about Elder-class hunts?" He poured two generous measures. "First lesson. Drink. You'll need it."
Reven took the cup. The liquid burned going down, tasting like regret and poor decisions.
"Second lesson," Doran continued, "is understanding what Elder-class actually means. It's not just 'bigger monster' or 'stronger monster.' It's a fundamental shift in threat level. A pack of Apex predators will try to kill you. An Elder-class monster will try to end you. Completely. Permanently. In ways that make standard death seem merciful."
"Tell me about the Colossus."
"We tracked it for two weeks before engaging. Studied its patterns. Its territory. Its behavior. We thought we understood what we were facing. We even were granted access to an unrestricted Codex entry" Doran took a long drink. "We were wrong. So catastrophically wrong that half the team died before we even understood what we'd gotten wrong."
He set down his cup and pulled out a battered journal. Flipping to a page covered in sketches and notes.
"We had heat-resistant armor. Best we could afford. It melted. Not eventually. Immediately. The moment we got within a hundred meters, the metal fittings started softening. Leather began charring. And that was just the ambient heat. When it actually moved, when its crown activated—"
Doran's hand trembled. He steadied it with the other.
"Marcus was our best hunter. A-Rank. Twenty years of experience. He solo hunted Apex predators. When the thermal wave hit him, his armor didn't just melt. It fused to his skin. We couldn't remove it. Couldn't even touch him without burning ourselves. He screamed for three minutes before the heat stopped his heart."
"How did you survive?"
"Luck. Cowardice. Both." Doran took another drink. "I was positioned farther back. When I saw what happened to the forward team, I ran. I didn't try to recover bodies. Just ran. The Colossus didn't even chase. Why would it? We were insects. Annoying insects that had stopped being annoying."
He pulled out another page. This one showed a rough sketch of the Colossus—massive, six-legged, with a crown of crystalline formations around its head.
"Third lesson: Elder-class monsters remember. If you injure one and escape, it will remember your scent. Your tactics. Your existence. There's a well known hunter from the Ashfall Marauders who wounded a Colossus two years ago. That thing tracked him across three territories. Waited outside his Aegis for a month. He can never leave safe zones again. The Colossus is still out there, waiting."
"You're saying this is impossible."
"I'm saying it's suicide." Doran met his eyes. "The only reason I'm telling you any of this is because Mira asked me to. But if you want my honest advice? Don't do the test hunt. Don't prove yourself. Leave Haven's Reach tonight and never look back. Because if you succeed with the Scorchwings, you'll be committed to the Colossus hunt. And the Colossus will kill you. Painfully. While you beg for death to come."
"That's your advice?"
"That's my experience." Doran stood. "But if you're determined to die, at least do it informed. Study the Codex entry we have on the Colossus. I've been told you can see things others can't. maybe you will see something in it we didn't. And for gods' sake, don't go alone. You'll need at least five hunters to have any chance at all."
"Will you join me?"
Doran laughed. It sounded like breaking glass. "Absolutely not. I've already died once in the Magma Wastes. I'm not going back for a repeat performance." He paused at the door. "But I'll help you prepare. Make sure your death means something, at least."
He left.
Reven sat alone in his workshop, the half-empty cup of terrible alcohol in his hands, and reviewed what he'd just learned:
The Mantle Colossus was impossible. The thermal output alone would kill him before he got close. Even if he survived the approach, even if he managed to injure it, even if he somehow harvested the shards—the creature would remember him. Hunt him. Never stop.
This wasn't a hunt. It was a death sentence.
And yet.
Reven looked at the Thunderjaw crystal on his workbench. At the "worthless" materials he'd been transforming into useful gear. At the reputation he'd built in two weeks by seeing value where others saw nothing.
Maybe Elder-class monsters were impossible by conventional standards.
But conventional standards didn't account for someone who could see hidden properties. Who could integrate monster essence directly into their body. Who'd survived five seconds of Vyraxes's attention and come out changed.
Conventional standards didn't account for him.