Chapter 82 - The Hunter Without a Signal

Etzel did not answer the stranger.

First rule of unexpected people who knew too much:

let them keep talking.

The young man stood thirty meters away.

Early twenties, maybe.

Lean.

Tired.

Blood on his left sleeve, but his posture did not favor the arm.

Not his blood.

No registry signal.

No visible System identification.

That was possible.

Rare equipment could suppress public tags.

Authority operatives could do it.

Criminals tried.

Usually badly.

The stranger looked at Saeva again.

“She has a soul body.”

Etzel finally spoke.

“You opened with a stronger line.”

The man frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Etzel shifted half a step.

Not attack stance.

Better angle.

The backup scouts were moving closer.

He signaled them to stop.

If this man could identify Saeva on sight, Etzel wanted to know how before someone frightened him into running.

“What’s your name?”

“Dorian Vale.”

Simple.

That helped.

Etzel was tired of names that sounded carved into prophecy.

“Hunter?”

“Yes.”

“Registry?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Dorian looked behind himself.

“Because the people who registered me tried to sell my ability.”

That escalated efficiently.

Saeva whispered:

“Bad people?”

“Probably.”

Dorian heard her.

His expression changed.

“She speaks freely.”

Etzel’s voice cooled.

“She does everything freely.”

Dorian raised both hands.

“I meant no insult.”

“Then stop examining her like equipment.”

A pause.

“Fair.”

Good response.

Etzel pointed at the blood.

“Yours?”

“No.”

“Whose?”

“The man hunting me.”

“Singular?”

“Was.”

Etzel looked past him.

“Dead?”

“No.”

“Then still singular.”

Dorian almost smiled.

A gunshot cracked through the orchard.

Etzel moved before the sound finished.

His new Level did not make him faster enough to dodge bullets after firing.

Experience made him move when Dorian’s eyes changed.

He pulled Saeva down.

The round shattered bark where she had hovered.

Dorian swore.

“Three now.”

“Your counting needs work.”

Etzel transmitted one word to the scouts.

Cover.

Then the orchard erupted.

Two figures came through the eastern fence.

One rifle.

One curved blade.

A third stayed hidden.

Etzel saw no Authority insignia.

No public registry tags.

The blade user shouted:

“Vale! Walk away from Deymar!”

Interesting.

They knew Etzel.

Dorian shouted back:

“You shot at his summon!”

The rifleman answered:

Once the urgency loosened its grip, Etzel went back through the sequence instead of letting adrenaline write the official version. One detail kept returning to him: “Hunter?” “Yes.” “Registry?” “No.” “Why?” Dorian looked behind himself. It had felt simple while he was reacting to it. In retrospect it carried more than one possible explanation, and Etzel had paid enough for certainty to stop buying it cheaply. He separated observation from inference on purpose. What he had seen remained useful. What he thought it meant remained provisional.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Orsik watched the process without interrupting until Etzel finally looked up. “You can say it.”

“I was waiting to see whether you would notice it yourself.”

“That is an extremely inefficient form of support.”

“It worked.”

Etzel disliked that answer because it did. The correction went into the plan instead of his pride.

“Collateral.”

Saeva’s eyes narrowed.

Etzel felt her anger through the bond.

“Stay with me.”

“Yes.”

The rifle fired again.

Saeva pushed.

Not at the bullet.

At the shooter’s arms.

The barrel shifted.

Round went wide.

Etzel ran.

Blade user intercepted.

Fast.

C-Rank movement at least.

Etzel’s spear met the curved weapon.

Impact numbed his fingers.

Stronger.

Good information.

He disengaged.

The man followed aggressively.

Too aggressively.

Etzel almost activated Witness.

Stopped.

Watch first.

High slash.

Low return.

Shoulder check.

Same sequence twice.

Third time changed.

The man was trained.

Not a monster pattern.

He expected analysis.

That made him more dangerous.

Etzel gave him an opening on the injured shoulder.

The man took it.

Naturally.

Curved blade came down.

Etzel rotated.

Pain ripped through the bandage as the wound stretched.

His spear butt struck the man’s knee.

Not enough.

The Hunter stumbled.

Etzel stepped inside and hit his jaw with the shaft.

Still not enough.

C-Rank body.

The man smiled through blood.

“Level sixteen.”

Etzel’s stomach tightened.

He knew the new Level already.

How?

No time.

The curved blade came back.

Etzel blocked.

Metal screamed.

Across the orchard, Dorian moved toward the rifleman.

No weapon.

The rifleman fired.

Dorian disappeared.

Not speed.

One instant he existed.

Next, empty air.

Then he stepped out from behind the rifleman.

The man collapsed.

Not dead.

Unconscious.

Etzel saw the ability.

Not teleportation.

Something else.

A missing interval.

The blade user saw it too.

“Damn you.”

He disengaged from Etzel and turned toward Dorian.

Mistake.

Etzel swept his leg.

Once the immediate pressure eased, the cost did not vanish with it. The memory of “You knew Saeva wasn’t from Earth.” “Yes.” “How?” Dorian looked at the captured woman who had tried to pull the Soul Link. made that especially clear. Etzel checked his breathing, grip, shoulders and the places where soul pressure had crossed into ordinary muscle. He no longer accepted functional as a synonym for unharmed. A hand that still closed could be injured. A Foundation that still stood could be strained. A bond that still answered could have paid more than he intended.

With “Try again.” “Collection team.” “For what?” The man looked at Dorian. still fresh in mind, Saeva stayed close enough to notice the inspection. Etzel tried to dismiss the concern with humor, then changed his mind and gave an accurate answer instead. The shift was small, but it mattered. Hiding damage from enemies was useful. Hiding it from allies only made the next decision worse. He adjusted the next movement around the body and soul he actually had rather than the version of himself his impatience preferred.

The Hunter fell.

Spear point stopped against his throat.

“Don’t.”

The man froze.

Then the hidden third attacker activated.

Etzel felt pressure behind his eyes.

Saeva screamed.

The Soul Link stretched.

Not severed.

Pulled.

Etzel’s vision went white.

No.

Not again.

Someone was touching the bond.

His Sanctuary reacted instantly.

Etzel did not need a theory this time.

“Saeva does not consent.”

Saeva shouted:

“No!”

Green light flashed.

The pressure broke.

A woman fell from a tree twenty meters away.

Blood ran from her nose.

Etzel’s anger became very simple.

He pointed.

“Saeva.”

“Push?”

“Hard.”

The woman had time to look worried.

Then Saeva’s pulse launched her through a rotten fence.

Etzel looked down at the blade user.

“Who are you?”

Silence.

He pressed the spear point enough to draw blood.

“Try again.”

“Collection team.”

“For what?”

The man looked at Dorian.

“Him.”

“Why shoot Saeva?”

“Assessment.”

Etzel’s voice went quiet.

“You assessed poorly.”

The Authority scouts arrived.

Weapons trained.

The fight ended.

No execution.

No revenge.

Prisoners were more useful alive.

Renn’s voice hit Etzel’s communicator almost immediately.

“Report.”

“Three hostile Hunters. Two conscious-ish. One unconscious. Attempted soul interference against Saeva.”

Silence.

Then:

“Do not touch their equipment.”

“I know.”

“Do not interrogate them further.”

“I know.”

“Do not follow any lead they provide.”

Etzel looked at Dorian.

“I was not planning to.”

Renn paused.

They reconstructed the event without allowing Etzel’s viewpoint to become the default truth. His memory emphasized His new Level did not make him faster enough to dodge bullets after firing. Another person remembered the timing differently. A third had noticed a position Etzel had missed completely. None of those disagreements were dramatic, which made them exactly the kind that could become dangerous once retold enough times.

Especially after “Damn you.” He disengaged from Etzel and turned toward Dorian., Etzel kept the contradictions until physical evidence, System records or repeatable behavior settled them. Where nothing could settle them, the report said unknown. That word had once felt like failure. Now it felt like a barrier against inventing an answer simply because the blank space was uncomfortable. The next Hunter who read the record did not need Etzel to look clever. They needed him to be accurate.

“That answer worries me more.”

Dorian sat against a tree while an Authority scout checked him for hidden weapons.

None.

No storage ring.

No armor.

No obvious Core equipment.

Etzel crouched several meters away.

“You knew Saeva wasn’t from Earth.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Dorian looked at the captured woman who had tried to pull the Soul Link.

“Because I’ve seen what they do to summons.”

Etzel waited.

Dorian swallowed.

“They call the place the Menagerie.”

Etzel disliked the word immediately.

“What is it?”

“A private Hunter facility.”

“Legal?”

Dorian laughed once.

“No.”

“What do they collect?”

“Abilities. Contracted creatures. Summons. Transformed humans if the mutation is useful.”

Etzel’s expression went still.

That sounded close to things they had already fought.

Too close.

He refused the connection.

“Why were they after you?”

Dorian looked at his hands.

“My ability lets me leave a moment unfinished.”

Etzel stared.

Edgar’s Unfinished Law came to mind.

Different.

Do not connect by name.

“Show me nothing,” Etzel said.

Dorian looked up.

“What?”

“Do not activate an unknown ability because I’m curious.”

A faint smile.

“People usually ask me to prove it.”

“People are idiots.”

Dorian nodded toward the unconscious rifleman.

“They wanted to remove it.”

“Can abilities be removed from living owners?”

“Yes.”

Etzel’s humor vanished.

“How do you know?”

Dorian looked away.

“Because mine isn’t the first ability I had.”

That landed harder than Etzel expected.

“What happened to the first?”

“They took it.”

Etzel did not ask what it was.

Not yet.

Authority transport arrived.

Renn came personally.

That told Etzel enough about the seriousness.

He looked at the prisoners.

Then Dorian.

Then Etzel.

“You completed a routine sweep.”

“Yes.”

“You reached Level 16.”

“Yes.”

“And within fifteen minutes discovered an illegal ability-harvesting network.”

“In my defense, they discovered me.”

Renn closed his eyes.

DK arrived behind him.

Orsik looked over the broken orchard.

Then at Etzel’s reopened shoulder.

“I leave you alone for one mission.”

Etzel pointed at Dorian.

“New person.”

“I see that.”

“Complicated.”

“I assumed.”

Dorian looked at DK.

His face changed.

Not recognition.

Fear.

He stood too quickly.

The scouts raised weapons.

Dorian ignored them.

He stared at Orsik’s damaged armor.

“No.”

DK’s hand moved toward the Greatblade.

Dorian stepped back.

“I saw one like you in the Menagerie.”

Etzel’s blood went cold.

“One what?”

Dorian looked at him.

“A summoned person.”

The mess in front of them had not moved just because they had named part of it. His body kept a separate record of the hunt. Bruised ribs, tight forearm, the hot line of an older wound protesting every hard turn. The System could call that irrelevant if it wanted. Etzel could not. He adjusted his grip and shortened his stride. Power that only worked while fresh was not power he trusted. Orsik saw the adjustment. 'Better.' Etzel checked offended. 'That sounded almost supportive.' 'Do not become distracted.' 'There it is.' Etzel filed the moment under 'The Hunter Without a Signal' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

The worth keeping thing about hunting something dangerous was that lies became expensive. Etzel could tell himself he had understood a pattern, but the next claw would grade the pattern. He could tell himself a plan was clever, but the terrain would decide whether clever mattered. That kept him honest. It also kept him alive often enough to continue being annoying, which he considered a secondary but meaningful benefit. Etzel filed the moment under 'The Hunter Without a Signal' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

Etzel used the pause to reset the formation instead of pretending the previous exchange had gone perfectly. He pointed out the mistake first—his own. That moved the mood faster than an order would have. Orsik corrected the angle. Saeva demonstrated her opinion with an exaggerated wobble in the air. Someone laughed, briefly, and the tension loosened without disappearing. Then they moved again. The pressure had not become smaller. They had simply become less willing to give it the same mistake twice. Etzel filed the moment under 'The Hunter Without a Signal' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

His body kept a separate record of the hunt. Bruised ribs, tight forearm, the hot line of an older wound protesting every hard turn. The System could call that irrelevant if it wanted. Etzel could not. He adjusted his grip and shortened his stride. Power that only worked while fresh was not power he trusted. Orsik saw the adjustment. 'Better.' Etzel checked offended. 'That sounded almost supportive.' 'Do not become distracted.' 'There it is.' Etzel filed the moment under 'The Hunter Without a Signal' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

Silence.

“Alive?” Etzel asked.

Dorian nodded.

“Still?”

“I don’t know.”

Etzel looked at Renn.

Routine sweep over.

Earned.

New enemy found.

And somewhere nearby, if Dorian was telling the truth, someone had put a living summon in a cage.