They returned to the city at dawn.

  The walk back passed in silence.

  Mist clung low to the plains, silver light spreading slowly across the horizon as the three Authority users moved toward the looming walls. Behind them, the forest seemed quieter now, as if whatever intelligence guided its predators had withdrawn deeper into shadow to reconsider its next move.

  Vale limped slightly.

  Every breath hurt. Bruises bloomed beneath torn clothing, and dried blood cracked along his temple and jaw. Protector Authority had kept him alive, but it had drained him nearly to collapse. His body paid the cost now.

  Wind Authority glanced sideways at him for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  “You should be dead,” she muttered.

  Vale didn’t have the energy to answer with sarcasm.

  “Almost was.”

  The Iron Crown warrior walked on Vale’s other side, helmet tucked under one arm. Without armor shadowing his face, exhaustion showed clearly in the lines around his eyes.

  “That thing…” he said quietly. “I’ve fought monsters twenty years. Never seen anything like it.”

  Vale nodded faintly.

  “You haven’t.”

  Silence followed.

  Wind Authority kicked at a stone in frustration.

  “So what now? It just… waits?”

  Vale answered slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s good?”

  “No.”

  She frowned.

  “Then why do you look relieved?”

  Vale glanced toward the forest behind them.

  “Because it learned something.”

  The Iron Crown warrior frowned.

  “That we’re weak?”

  “That we fight back.”

  Silence settled.

  Predators didn’t attack prey that fought hard unless necessary. And right now, other hunting grounds likely looked easier.

  For now.

  Ahead, horns sounded from the city walls as lookouts spotted their return.

  Movement spread along battlements.

  Gates creaked open.

  And relief rippled visibly through defenders watching from above.

  Wind Authority blinked.

  “They were worried.”

  The warrior snorted.

  “City doesn’t have many people who can fight things like that.”

  Vale grimaced slightly.

  Exactly the problem.

  As they passed through the gates, soldiers stared openly. Word traveled fast in desperate places. Rumors of monsters organizing had already spread; the trio returning alive from the northern ruins only fed speculation.

  A young guard blurted:

  “Did you kill it?”

  Vale shook his head as he passed.

  “No.”

  The guard’s hopeful expression faltered.

  “Then what did you do?”

  Vale answered without slowing.

  “Made it think.”

  Confusion followed them down the road.

  Enforcer Headquarters erupted in activity the moment they entered.

  Messengers sprinted down corridors. Officers argued over deployment changes. Scouts reported monster repositioning beyond walls.

  The commander stood over the central war table when Vale entered, issuing orders with clipped efficiency.

  She looked up.

  And froze.

  Her eyes swept over the trio.

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  All alive.

  Barely.

  “…Report,” she demanded.

  Vale stepped forward slowly.

  “Hunter intelligence confirmed.”

  The chamber quieted.

  Officers turned.

  Wind Authority spoke next.

  “It controls monster packs. Multiple species. Coordinates attacks.”

  The Iron Crown warrior added:

  “And it’s big.”

  The commander stared.

  “How big?”

  Vale answered calmly.

  “Big enough to tear down walls.”

  Silence fell.

  One officer muttered a quiet curse.

  The commander clenched her jaw.

  “Then why aren’t we already dead?”

  Vale met her gaze.

  “Because it’s patient.”

  Understanding dawned slowly.

  Wind Authority folded her arms.

  “It’s deciding if we’re worth killing now.”

  A murmur spread through the room.

  The commander exhaled slowly.

  “And your… excursion?”

  Vale hesitated.

  Then answered:

  “It tested me.”

  Silence stretched.

  The Iron Crown warrior nodded grimly.

  “Trial of strength.”

  Wind Authority added:

  “And he survived.”

  Every gaze turned to Vale.

  He ignored them.

  Commander studied him carefully.

  “…And the result?”

  Vale spoke quietly.

  “It’ll wait.”

  Silence.

  Relief flickered across some faces.

  Then realization replaced it.

  Waiting didn’t mean leaving.

  It meant preparing.

  The commander nodded once.

  “How long?”

  Vale shook his head.

  “Days. Weeks. Maybe months.”

  Wind Authority muttered:

  “Or until we screw something up.”

  That silenced the room again.

  Because cities always did.

  The commander straightened.

  “Then we prepare for siege.”

  Orders erupted instantly.

  Supply rationing expanded.

  Wall reinforcements doubled.

  Scout rotations adjusted.

  Evacuation protocols drafted.

  The city shifted fully into survival mode.

  Vale turned to leave.

  The commander stopped him.

  “You look like hell.”

  He shrugged.

  “Feels worse.”

  “Get healed.”

  He paused.

  “…No time.”

  Her expression hardened.

  “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

  Wind Authority smirked faintly.

  “I agree with her.”

  The Iron Crown warrior added:

  “If you collapse, we’re all dead.”

  Vale sighed.

  They weren’t wrong.

  He turned toward exit again.

  Then—

  A messenger burst into the chamber.

  Breathless.

  Terrified.

  “Commander!”

  Everyone froze.

  The commander snapped:

  “What?”

  The messenger swallowed.

  “Southern districts… riots broke out.”

  Silence fell.

  Of course.

  Food shortages.

  Fear.

  Rumors.

  Pressure.

  The commander’s expression darkened.

  “Cause?”

  The messenger hesitated.

  Then said:

  “Merchant caravans were attacked.”

  Wind Authority swore.

  The Iron Crown warrior cursed.

  Vale closed his eyes briefly.

  The hunter didn’t need to attack.

  The city was already doing the work itself.

  The commander turned to officers.

  “Contain riots.”

  Then back to Vale.

  “…Rest fast.”

  Because things were already falling apart.

  And somewhere beyond the walls—

  The hunter watched prey weaken itself again.

  Waiting.

  Learning.

  Preparing.

  For the moment patience ended.

  By the time Vale reached District Seven again, the riot had already burned itself into the streets.

  Smoke drifted between buildings where carts had been overturned and set ablaze. Merchants’ wagons lay shattered, crates split open and scattered across stone. Grain mixed with mud and blood under trampling feet. Soldiers forced civilians back at spearpoint while healers dragged the wounded into alleys.

  The riot wasn’t rage alone.

  It was hunger.

  Vale moved through the wreckage slowly, boots crunching over broken pottery and spilled supplies. Every step pulled at bruised muscles, and exhaustion threatened to drag him down if he stopped moving for even a moment.

  Lyn spotted him immediately and hurried over, relief flashing across her face before anger replaced it.

  “You look terrible.”

  He shrugged weakly. “Feel worse.”

  Her eyes searched his injuries. “You fought it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “We’re still alive.”

  She stared, clearly wanting more, then glanced around at the destruction.

  “…City isn’t doing much better.”

  A group of soldiers shoved several bound civilians past them. The prisoners shouted protests while frightened families watched from doorways.

  “They stole food,” Lyn said quietly.

  Vale shook his head.

  “No.”

  She frowned. “Then what?”

  “They tried to eat.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  A child cried somewhere nearby. Someone screamed for a missing family member. Orders echoed as officers struggled to restore control.

  Lyn folded her arms tightly.

  “This is what waiting looks like?”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Because sieges didn’t begin with armies.

  They began with shortages.

  With fear.

  With neighbors turning against each other.

  The hunter understood that.

  And it didn’t need to attack yet.

  Marrow approached from a nearby shelter, face drawn with worry.

  “You came back,” the old hunter said.

  “Barely.”

  Marrow studied Vale’s injuries, then glanced toward smoldering streets.

  “City’s breaking.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But soon?”

  Vale didn’t answer.

  Because truth hung too heavy to say aloud.

  Marrow lowered his voice.

  “Hunters don’t want to patrol anymore. Too many monsters. Too much risk.”

  Vale nodded slowly.

  “Then walls get weaker.”

  “And people get hungrier.”

  Silence settled.

  Marrow sighed.

  “Feels like we’re already losing.”

  Vale looked around the district. Families huddled over meager supplies. Merchants guarded remaining goods behind armed escorts. Soldiers watched civilians with suspicion instead of reassurance.

  “No,” Vale said quietly.

  “We’re just at the part where people think they are.”

  Later, after healers forced him to sit still long enough to stitch torn flesh and wrap cracked ribs, Vale climbed back onto the warehouse rooftop.

  Pain dulled to a constant throb.

  Night settled over the city again, torches burning along walls as patrol horns echoed at intervals. From above, the damage looked smaller.

  Contained.

  But tension pulsed beneath every street.

  Lyn climbed up beside him carrying two tin cups.

  She handed him one.

  Warm broth.

  Thin, but hot.

  He drank gratefully.

  They sat in silence for a while.

  Finally, she asked:

  “So what happens next?”

  Vale stared toward the distant wall lights.

  “City prepares.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until something breaks.”

  She frowned.

  “Something always breaks.”

  “Yes.”

  Silence stretched.

  Wind moved through rooftops, carrying distant shouting.

  Lyn hugged her knees.

  “You scared?”

  Vale considered.

  “Yes.”

  She blinked.

  “You actually admitted that.”

  He shrugged slightly.

  “Only fools aren’t scared.”

  She stared at city lights.

  “Then why go out there?”

  Vale thought of the hunter’s gaze.

  Of intelligence measuring civilizations like prey.

  “Because someone has to look back.”

  Silence followed.

  Below, another argument erupted as food distribution turned violent again.

  Lyn sighed.

  “They’re going to tear this place apart before monsters even attack.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  And that was the real danger.

  The hunter understood prey better than prey understood itself.

  He closed his eyes briefly.

  Felt Authority stirring faintly beneath exhaustion.

  Protector.

  Not warrior.

  Not conqueror.

  Protector.

  He opened his eyes again.

  The city looked fragile.

  Human.

  Worth saving.

  Behind the walls, something massive shifted in distant forest darkness.

  Waiting.

  And Vale understood now—

  The real battle wouldn’t start at the walls.

  It would start here.

  Inside.

  Among people deciding whether survival was worth cooperation.

  Beside him, Lyn finished her drink and nudged his shoulder lightly.

  “Try not to die tomorrow.”

  Vale almost smiled.

  “No promises.”

  Above them, unseen beyond clouds, stars burned cold and distant.

  And somewhere in the forest, the hunter settled into patience.

  Because sooner or later—

  Cities always made mistakes.