CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

The Beast That Froze the Air

The day's work hauling crates stretched long, but it didn't wear me down. If anything, it settled me—steady, repetitive, a rhythm I could sink into after everything else. Being accepted in District 98, even respected, still felt off, and the Artifact Holder title was only part of it. Among the Chainrunners, I was still an apprentice, there to pitch in, but the badge twisted that. What happened at the evaluation—the beasts, the haul, had flipped their view of me, and I wasn't sure how to carry it.

Moving crates wasn't hard. It gave me time to watch the Chainrunners up close, people who risked their lives running between wards, dodging fog beasts. I'd always respected them, but seeing them now, sharpened that. Most were forced into it, but lately, there'd been more like Wulric—volunteers choosing the role.

Even apprentices, kids younger than me, were signing up, a shift I hadn't seen before. The pay beat out most jobs around here—higher because of the danger, but to me, it still didn't feel like enough for what they faced and some dreamed of striking it big, finding an artifact out there to change their lives or lift the district. Their drive stuck with me, raw and real.

By the end, we'd nearly cleared it all. Beasts split, parts sorted—meat for the dining halls, hides and bones to storage. It'd hit the rations soon, a flood of food I'd hoped for. Thousands would eat well, but only for a while; it'd vanish fast. I kept that in mind, a quiet nudge: I had to get stronger. The title demanded it—Artifact Holder meant duty, not just a shiny badge. I had to keep the flow going, bring more back.

Night crept in, the sky dimming through the fog. I wasn't tired—hadn't been all day, that strange energy still buzzing under my skin. Sleep felt pointless. So I decided to hunt. Night wasn't my usual time; the beasts grew fiercer after dark, their eyes glinting in ways that set my nerves on edge. But they were stronger too—bigger, sharper, packed with mana. If I wanted to crack the next rule, push myself further, this was how. Also, my vision was fine, but I could hone more—sound, scent, the feel of the air. Night hunts could do that.

I headed for the guard post I always used, near the residential zone. I could slip out anywhere, vanish into the fog without a trace, but I liked this spot. Roran, Kael, and Mareth were usually there, and I wanted to see them, hear their voices before I went. Luck held; all three stood at the post, their lanterns casting soft pools of light.

"Look who's here," Kael called, waving as I approached. "Figured we wouldn't see you back this quick."

I closed the distance, boots crunching on loose gravel. "Good to see you all still together," I said, glancing between them. "Weren't assigned to the haul today?" I hadn't spotted them among the guards swarming the headquarters.

Roran stepped forward, his eyes flicking to my badge, sizing it up. "Not our job," he said, voice steady. "Experienced ones like us stay near the ward's edge. City work—hauling crates, guarding streets—that's for the greenhorns."

It clicked. Inexperienced guards at the border could fumble, let something slip through. Inside, it was people they watched—thieves, fights, the usual mess. I nodded, seeing the sense in it.

Mareth moved closer, her gaze lingering on me, sharp but warm. "Good to see you on this side of the ward. Looks like you got a promotion."

"Promotion?" Kael barked a laugh, clapping his hands. "He's got a fancy title now—big shot!"

I cracked a half-smile, shaking my head. "Not really. Still an apprentice till I'm of age."

Roran snorted, crossing his arms. "Technically, sure. But that badge? No one's calling you an apprentice with that on. You're more than that now."

Kael dragged a few chairs out from the post's shelter, the wood scraping against stone. He offered me one, settling into his own. "Enough work talk," he said, leaning back. "Heard this guy's been holding out on us—good stories from out there. Let's hear 'em."

Mareth stayed standing, her arms loose at her sides. "True," she said, tilting her head. "You don't say much about the fog—what you've seen, what you've done."

I shifted, the chair creaking under me. "I'd like to, but I should get moving," I said. Kara's voice hummed in my head, insistent—notifications piling up, nudging me about days without practice.

[Kara]

[User has been inactive for several days. Strongly recommend resuming physical activity.]

She was as restless as I was, itching for the hunt. Out on the bridge, so far from wards, night runs were impossible—too dangerous, too exposed. Here, a few kilometers out felt safer, a way to test it. She tried masking it, but she mentioned something about "Dark Beasts Data" for her records. She wanted this as much as I did.

"Sorry," I said, waving a hand in apology. "No time right now. Got work to do."

Kael's face fell, disappointment tugging at his grin. "Fine, but I'm holding you to it later. What work's out here, though?" He frowned, confused.

Roran caught on first, his eyes narrowing. "He's going out again. Hunting, right?"

Kael and Mareth stiffened, exchanging looks. "That true?" Mareth asked, stepping closer. "Heard rumors you're keeping at it—bringing stuff back for the halls."

I blinked. I'd only told Gorin and Wulric today, and it'd already spread this far? "Yeah," I said, no point dodging it. "Lots to do."

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Roran rubbed his jaw, speaking slow. "Fair enough, but technically… you're still an apprentice. Underage. No mission, no go—unless your mother signs off."

I leaned back, caught off guard. "Didn't you just say no one sees me as an apprentice with this title?"

He shrugged. "Mostly true. But your mother's the Captain too. She's not the type to shrug if I let you walk out without her say-so."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "You know I could leave from anywhere, right? No walls stopping me."

Kael grinned, leaning forward. "Sure could. And we might, say, not notice you slipping by. Maybe we didn't even have this chat."

I stared, not catching it at first. Their faces—Kael's smirk, Roran's nod, Mareth's raised brow—clicked into place. Roran spelled it out, voice low. "Just go, Omen. Sometimes, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. We'll act like you were never here. Come back through us when you're done."

I stood, the night settling thick around us, fog curling at the edges. "Thanks," I said, giving them a nod. They waved me off, turning back to their post like nothing happened. I stepped out, the darkness swallowing me whole, ready to hunt.

…

The first few hours slipped by easy, almost pleasant. My storage ring hummed as I tucked away a decent haul of beasts. I couldn't picture hunting without it anymore; it'd become part of me, like an extra hand. Night settled deeper, the fog thickening, mana hanging heavy in the air. New shapes stirred—beasts I rarely saw in daylight, their outlines sharper, movements quicker. Nothing like the horrors of the narrow bridge, thank luck, but still fierce enough to keep me on edge.

I stayed close, just a few kilometers from the ward—district rules held me there, and I wasn't pushing it tonight. The more I watched, the clearer it got: these things didn't lean on sight. Their heads tilted, listening, feeling the ground, picking up what I couldn't. Vibrations, I figured—some tracked tremors in the dirt, others clicked or hummed, sounds bouncing back like bats in old stories. I lingered on that, crouching low, letting their patterns sink in. If I could tune my ears, my skin, maybe I'd catch the fog's pulse too.

Another thing stuck out. Ebony core beasts clumped together, moving in packs, tight and coordinated. Onyx cores, tier twos, usually didn't. Most hunted alone, or with just one or two others, and even then, it was messy. I'd seen it earlier: a pair of onyx beasts clashing over a kill, one slashing the other's flank without a flinch, like it didn't care.

Brutal, careless—stronger ones seemed to shrug off their own kind, ready to ditch or gut them for an edge. Was that tied to the rule of brutality? The next one? I couldn't pin it, just a vague itch in my mind. Meris flashed there too—her face, what she'd faced and worry tightened my chest.

I'd drifted, thoughts wandering like they did back in the district. Out here, that was dangerous. Fog curled thicker, and I blinked, shaking it off, unsure how long I'd zoned out.

Something shifted nearby—close, too close. The air chilled, sharp and sudden, and a shape loomed from the gray: tall, skeletal, its head a cracked, eyeless skull-mask, jagged maw dripping blue saliva. Where it hit the ground, ice crackled, freezing in jagged patches. Short, frost-tipped tendrils writhed from its skull, and its spindly arms ended in icicle talons, glinting cold. Reverse-jointed legs bent backward, and tattered, ice-coated membranes hung where wings might've been—useless, vestigial… or maybe not.

Frost shimmered on its claws as the air bit sharper. The tendrils twitched, tasting the fog, then it shrieked—a splintering wail like ice shattering on stone. It vanished back into the dark, fog swallowing it whole.

Silence pressed in, heavy and wrong. The temperature plunged, sound muffled, and the gray thickened around me. Then, out of nowhere, icicles flew—sharp, fast, a dozen streaking my way. I dodged, twisting hard, but some hit true, piercing both legs. Pain flared, hot and quick, then cold—freezing cold, spreading from the wounds.

My mana surged, Life Magic kicking in, pushing back the ice creeping up my thighs. It cost me—too much, draining fast and my legs stiffened, barely moving. The beast burst from the dark again, flying at me, talons outstretched. I shifted, slow but enough, letting it zip past. Its wake trailed ice, tainting the air. I breathed it in and choked, lungs burning, useless. This wasn't just onyx; it was peak tier two, teetering on something more, juggling minor magics like toys. I was prey, pinned and fading.

Minutes dragged. It circled, wearing me down, flooding the air with that unbreathable chill. My legs would heal—I could feel them thawing, inch by inch, but not fast enough. Each dodge left me gasping, lungs icing over, vision blurring. I couldn't keep this up.

As it dove again, I made my move—flared the Shardbound Bracers, a shield snapping up, solid as stone. The beast slammed into it, stunned, staggering midair. I didn't wait—poured everything into the gauntlets, kinetic energy roaring through it, and struck. One blow, dead-center on its chest. Bones cracked, loud and wet, a thunderous snap rolling past. Its heart burst; it crumpled, dead at my feet.

"Holy shit," I rasped, voice hoarse. "That was close." The noise would draw more—I knew it and my legs weren't fully back. I shoved the beast into my ring, pulled Hazeveil tight, and crouched low, hoping its shadow would hide me till I could move properly.

That ice lingered in my mind. How it shaped the air, bent mana into frost—controlled, precise. My own mana dwarfed most onyx beasts', but I'd never turned it outward like that, not for attack. Life Magic kept me alive, stitched me up, but this? Ice Magic felt alive, tempting. Could I wield it? I dragged myself off, hands pulling me through the dirt as my legs woke up, mana flickering low. Without Life Magic, those icicles would've frozen me solid, legs first, then the rest. I'd have been a statue by now.

I replayed it—the surge, the shift in the air, water particles hardening into ice, distinct from raw liquid. I felt it, almost grasped it, but couldn't bridge the gap. Beasts usually stuck to one type of magic, their bodies molded to it—ice didn't slow this thing, didn't choke it. Adaptation, evolution—that's how they did it. I'd learned Life Magic the same way, letting it sink in deep. Ice would take that too, a new edge if I could claim it.

Tiredness hit, heavy and sudden, mana spent. I found my spot—my home in the fog near the district. I pulled the dagger from my ring, its blade catching the faint light. I turned it over, staring, thoughts churning.

The long sleep tugged at me, a quiet pull I couldn't shake. I sat there in the fog's hollow, dagger resting in my palm, its weight steady as I turned it over. My eyes traced the blade's edge, and I let the thought settle—no rush, no fight left in me tonight. Then, slow and simple, I gave in, letting the long sleep wrap around me like a cloak.

Being alive yet feeling it was odd, a pulse deep inside stirring awake. It was as if something I'd found out there, some thread woven into me, nudged my body, whispering it was time. Time to shift, to grow, maybe the part of me that knew how to change kicking in. I shifted against the floor, the fog warm on my skin, and wondered what it meant—this signal, this need.

I'd feared the time it took before. Evolution wasn't quick; it was the price to grow strong enough to shield the district. Life Magic adaptation took so long. I'd dreaded that stretch, the lost days piling up. But now, sitting here, that fear felt lighter, thinner.

Ice Magic, if I could even grasp it, wouldn't demand so much—I was sure of it. My body felt ready, not raw like before, and confidence hummed low in my chest. I'd wield it, shape it like that beast had, frost bending to my will. Not a long sleep this time, just enough to adapt, to claim something new.

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