Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A Hunter's Gambit

Diremaws were among the most common types of beasts found near the District 98 ward, classified as Tier 1 creatures with ebony cores that used mana to enhance their physical abilities. They typically hunted in packs of anywhere from three to eight individuals, each one armed with razor-sharp teeth and claws capable of tearing me apart in a single swift motion.

And those were precisely the beasts I planned to face. Their dense musculature allowed them to leap powerfully and sprint at terrifying speeds, which meant there would be no running away once the battle began. It would be all or nothing.

I was a bit deeper into the city ruins now, roughly a kilometer from the district's ward. The fog was dim and somewhat translucent, making it easier for me to see while still providing cover from a distance. I knew the diremaws would mostly rely on their sense of smell, so I had carefully masked my own scent. Kara had taught me that pressing whatever small advantages I had would be essential for survival.

In this situation, my advantage was the element of surprise. After all, I could see farther than the diremaws could, thanks to my acclimation to the fog. Spending so many days in my makeshift "home" out here had allowed my eyes to adjust. Each passing day, I found myself able to see that much farther through the haze.

The small pack I had been tracking comprised only two creatures—apparently the remnants of a larger group. Both bore open wounds, and one was missing an eye. Their reduced numbers offered me some hope, yet I felt no triumph. A single diremaw posed a lethal threat, and these two, while a bit injured, still had ferocious strength.

I feared no death. But I knew that if I allowed myself to be eaten, my return to life would take a very long time, locked in a long sleep I might not awaken for possibly even years. In practical terms, it was just as bad as any normal death.

Yet my instincts urged me to fight.

I had stashed my backpack in a hidden spot, carrying only a few throwing spears slung across my back and my daggers at my sides. I wore sturdy clothing—standard under-armor gear provided by the Blackthorn family, but I knew full well it would offer no real protection against diremaw claws or teeth.

Over the course of many days, I observed the beasts from a distance, harnessing my improved vision to remain undetected. Meanwhile, Kara and I spent hours strategizing, replaying battle scenarios in my head. Every plan we devised ended in a grim outcome: my death. Even if I ambushed them and managed to kill one beast instantly, I would still have to face the other one head-on—and in every simulation, that second diremaw overwhelmed me.

That was when Kara introduced me to the concept of minor poisons—brews I could craft using certain weeds and herbs I had on hand. After we identified their main water source, a small pond nestled within the wreckage of a ruined facility, I spent several days poisoning the water. According to Kara, this concoction would have been more than enough to kill an ordinary human. For mana-infused beasts, though, it would only slow them down or dull their reflexes. Still, I needed every edge I could get.

I considered striking while they hunted, but diremaws sprinted so rapidly during a chase that there was no way I could track them without making noise. Any attempt at a high-speed pursuit would give me away. So I bided my time. I knew they would eventually return to that pond among the ruins, not far from the ward. The facility itself was two stories tall with a massive hole in the ceiling, likely formed by some monstrous force long ago. Rain filtered through that gap and collected on the ground floor, forming the pond.

The stone walls were coated in a thin layer of lime, and any stairs leading to the second floor had long since collapsed. Still, by gripping the cracked edges and using old pillars as handholds, I managed to climb up. Kara kept warning me that every scenario pointed to failure, but I decided to trust my instincts anyway. Perhaps the diremaws were weakened enough, or maybe I would find a moment of luck.

I also discovered some strong cables in the rubble—likely once used for machinery. I tied them off to one of the remaining pillars near a jagged slab of heavy metal embedded in the ceiling. Whatever had torn through this place must have been enormous, because the damage ran clear from the roof through the second floor and even onto the first. Now, a giant chunk of twisted steel hung precariously above that pond, waiting to be dropped on anything beneath it.

My plan, if it could be called that, was to unfasten the knot at the crucial moment, letting the massive hunk of metal crash down on a diremaw below. It felt like a gamble, but I was out of better ideas.

It took a full day of hiding to see if the beasts would wander into position. Eventually, they returned to drink, but they chose a different corner of the pond, nowhere near the spot over which my makeshift trap hung. At least they did not notice me. Once they had quenched their thirst, they left, and I stayed perched above, my pulse hammering in my ears.

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But I did not intend to give up.

It took many days for the diremaws to wander right beneath my makeshift trap. I spent each one in tense anticipation, hidden on the ruin's second floor, keeping watch through the broken hole in the ceiling. Kara repeatedly warned me that the probability of success was almost zero, but I chose not to listen. When the beasts finally ambled into position, I silently untied the knot holding that thick slab of jagged metal above the pond.

I watched with grim satisfaction as it fell straight onto one diremaw's head, spearing through its skull with a wet, crunching impact. The creature convulsed, stumbling around for a moment before collapsing in a bloody heap. A single blow had ended its life.

Yet that was not the truly difficult part. In all our battle simulations, we had ways to kill the first beast by surprise, but the problem always lay in dealing with the second one.

I wasted no time, leaping down into the pond below. The water was deep enough for me to break my fall, though I still felt the harsh jolt in my ankles. My eyes then locked onto the remaining diremaw—the one-eyed beast—whose fierce, bloodshot gaze drove a spike of fear through me. Instantly, I felt my pulse surge with adrenaline.

I sprang out of the water and hurled a spear at the creature, not caring about my aim so much as forcing it to rear back. My plan worked. The diremaw reflexively backed away, straight into a row of tooth-spiked traps I had carefully placed against the far wall for exactly this scenario.

The trap's base creaked, then snapped shut with a loud crack as countless small, sharpened teeth sank into the diremaw's scaly hide. The beast roared, whipping around to locate whatever had attacked it from behind. I took the chance to close the distance, driving another spear into its back. It pierced the thick flesh but did not go in deep enough, only drawing a pained snarl.

With just two more spears on my back, I decided to switch tactics. I dropped the spear's shaft and drew my daggers, slashing at one of the beast's hind legs before it twisted around to face me. Its single eye seemed to burn with rage and hunger.

It lunged with its massive claws, easily capable of tearing me to ribbons. I barely managed to dodge, noticing the beast's movements had slowed a fraction. The poison I had spent days administering must have been taking effect, making it less agile than normal. The diremaw still tried to bite my neck, snapping viciously, but I sidestepped, guiding it toward another tooth-spiked trap. The mechanism snapped closed with a dull thud, though this time a few stray shards caught my forearm as well. A hot jolt of pain made me hiss under my breath, and blood quickly soaked my sleeve.

I forced myself to ignore the pain. The beast reeled from the fresh wounds, distracted. I darted behind it, but it spun faster than I expected, so I drove my dagger into its remaining eye. A spurt of blackish gore splattered across my face, and I staggered back, pulling the blade free. The diremaw let out a hideous bellow, thrashing blindly.

With its vision gone, the creature relied on hearing or scent. Fortunately, I had spent days masking the smell of this entire area with burnt weeds, so the air was pungent and confusing for any beast. Encouraged by this small success, I started tossing a few stones against the walls, misleading its sense of direction. Each time it stumbled toward a noise, I coaxed it into another trap, slowly wearing it down.

I cursed myself for not having additional spears stashed nearby. I had brought only the ones I could easily carry, and one was stuck in its flesh. My daggers were too short to strike a lethal blow against such thick muscle and bone unless I aimed for a critical spot.

I needed the move Kara had drilled into my head: the angled strike under the rib cage, spearing upward into the heart. Gathering my courage, I reached for my last spear, hurling it into one of the diremaw's hind legs to draw another roar. Then I grabbed a handful of rocks and hurled them against the far wall. The beast pounced wildly at the noise, missing me entirely.

Quickly, I scrambled onto a broken column that rose about chest-high. From there, I saw the beast thrashing below, blood oozing from multiple wounds. This was my best and only chance. I lunged off the column, dropping in low under the creature's chest, spear held at an upward angle. At that moment, the diremaw somehow sensed me. Perhaps it smelled my blood from the trap wounds or heard my labored breathing.

But it was too late. I thrust the spear beneath its ribs. I felt bone crack, and Kara confirmed in my mind that I had struck true—my spear had punctured its heart.

A success.

Or so I thought, until I noticed the diremaw's claws were embedded in my own chest. My momentum and its desperate final strike had landed us both in a lethal embrace.

We collapsed onto the slick stone floor, locked face-to-face.

Hours seemed to stretch as we bled out in agony. The beast's ragged breathing slowed, then stopped altogether as it succumbed to its injuries. Not long after, I surrendered to my own wounds. Darkness swallowed me in a crushing tide, and I recognized the familiar pull of the long sleep.

I had seen this in every simulation with Kara. It always ended in my death, and indeed, I died.

But I had won. Against impossible odds, I had defeated two fearsome creatures of a kind that had slain countless Chainrunners. Even if Kara deemed it a failed task, to me it felt like a triumph.

I never feared the long sleep. I welcomed it, unafraid of the slow drifting through endless dreams. And as I lay in that dream realm once more, I felt something changing—something beyond mere physical healing. It was as though the fog itself was shaping me, adapting my mind and body in ways I could not begin to understand based on the fight I just had.

Yes, this long sleep was different.