Tristis waited anxiously on the park bench for Kyra to arrive. The fact that his master was flying out to join him in Ashba meant that something big must be about to go down.

  Ashba was a country that stretched along the southern coast of the continent, separated from its neighbors up north by a string of mountains. If you added up all the peninsulas and islands, there was enough fertile land to support a country as great as his home of Charais Gamor. Unfortunately for the Ashbans, their region was also where Concordia had decided to stash all its volcanoes.

  He was here for one reason only, and that was to make a connection with a politician named Nerio Lombardo. Some said that it was Lombardo and not the prime minister who was the real driver behind Ashban policies. Which meant that his support was essential for the future continentwide hunters association.

  All of Concordia under one hunters association. Had anyone else told Tristis that this was the plan, he'd have deserted the band of lunatics. But since it was his master who said it, he only had to accept the inevitability.

  The road there wasn't easy. Already he had to drop out of college. All the money he made working at Mom's office was being spent on flights to shake hands with talented and influential people. The day was fast approaching when the entire world would learn about magic, and every piece had to be in place before then.

  At last he saw his master bounding down the covered walkway.

  "Sorry I'm late," she said, plopping herself down next to him on the wooden bench. "I know that the trains here have a reputation for never running on time. I just never expected them to be this bad."

  "I heard there was a bomb threat this morning," he replied. "That must have messed up all the timetables."

  "They have a bomb threat every morning," she said. "At some point you'd think they'd just factor it in."

  "It didn't used to be like this. I remember my family used to come here every year when I was little. We'd do a tour of northern Ashba during truffle season and then visit the art gallery here in Desaross. Dad always loved to say that Ashba was only second to Charais Gamor when it came to food, wine, and culture. Though the wine for me didn't come until later."

  "It's still safe here," she said. "The bomb threats are never carried through. Though you'll have to save the art gallery for another time." Her tone turned serious. "Do you know Alfonso Lombardo?"

  "The son of Nerio Lombardo? Is he our ticket to his father?"

  "Have you ever met the kid?" she asked.

  It was odd hearing Alfonso being called a kid, as he was the same age as Tristis.

  "Our circles never overlapped," he replied.

  This was the reason Ashba was a difficult piece for them to move. His family had enough connections across the continent for him to get a foot in the door in most places. But while the two countries got along well enough on the surface, the Ashban political elite kept a wary distance from the Gamorese.

  Dad had told him that it was due to a mix of nationalism and residual feelings from a war that ended a hundred years ago. Tristis found a hundred years to be a long time to hold on to resentment, particularly for a culture half of whose history was buried under ash. But he supposed that the ash was also good at preserving the past.

  "I made some inquiries when you told me you were having trouble making inroads with Lombardo," she said. "It seems that there's a special police unit trying to track down his son."

  "Alfonso is missing?"

  "Abducted. They've been keeping it hush."

  He could tell where this was heading. "You know where he's being held."

  She smiled. "I'm sure that Lombardo senior will be very grateful for the return of his boy."

  Regressors were truly terrifying. It was impossible to beat someone who could redo the future.

  "The bandits holding Alfonso, what are we up against?" he asked.

  "Local fanatics. One former military among them. No organizational support. But expect them to be armed. Does that worry you?"

  "I've never fought another person before."

  "At your level, small arms will be nothing. The hard part will be stopping them from doing anything to Alfonso. Once we've begun, we'll have to move fast."

  "I'll follow your lead," he said.

  He'd already hired a car as she instructed, and they drove it out to the countryside. Her coordinates took them to a large hillside estate.

  From a distance it looked innocent enough. A white two-story mansion surrounded by overgrown hedgerows and a well-worn brick fence. And no neighbors for miles.

  "Not what I would expect from a bandit hide-out," he said.

  He found a place where they could park and observe the property from cover. There didn't appear to be any look-outs, but it was always better not to take any chances.

  After an hour without movement, he said, "Maybe they left Alfonso tied up alone in there?"

  "My luck is never that good," Kyra replied.

  Keeping watch like this was dreadfully boring, and Tristis couldn't help the doubts bubbling up in his mind. "Will this really be enough to win over Lombardo?"

  "It's his son."

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "Word is, Lombardo senior isn't exactly proud of Alfonso. Not since some of his antics made the papers."

  "You read the Ashban papers?"

  "I spoke with the servants," he said. "Apparently Alfonso hosted a party with a mountain of powder so high it could have supplied the entire city."

  Kyra didn't take her eyes off the white house. "Do you think he afforded that powder on his own? Or was it daddy financing his lifestyle?"

  He took her point and turned his mind to more productive thoughts. Once they rescued Alfonso and he got an audience with Lombardo, the man was going to have a lot of questions for him. He had to decide what answers to give that would also keep his master out of it.

  Shortly before sundown a car drove up to the house and two men got out. With all the grocery bags and pizzas they unloaded, there was no question about it—there were definitely more of them inside.

  After everything had been carried in, one of the men returned to stow the car in a detached garage. Once that was done, there was no outward sign that anyone had come or gone.

  Night came, and the house remained dark. Anyone who hadn't been there for the ten minutes with the car would have believed the place to be vacant.

  At last Kyra announced that it was time to make their move. They donned their balaclavas and made their way quietly to the rear entrance. The door was locked but she had it open in seconds.

  Inside there was a dim light coming from one of the rooms. The men were arguing over a card game. Three distinct voices.

  They came to a wooden staircase leading to the upper floor. It was all dark up there. Continuing past the staircase, there was a door, solid oak with two locks and an additional bolt freshly installed on this side.

  The bolt wasn't secured. One of the bandits must be inside.

  Kyra quietly eased the door open. It led down into the cellar.

  She nodded at him, and he moved past and crept down the concrete steps. Darkness wasn't such a problem for a hunter. The bandit down here had brought a flashlight, and its secondhand light was more than enough for him to find his way around.

  Toward the bottom of the stairs he was confronted with the downside in having the enhanced senses of a hunter. The air was suffocating with the stench of moldy cheese and gym socks mixed with cigarettes. A pile of old pizza boxes had been thrown in a corner among a heap of other garbage. And in the other corner was Alfonso, tied helplessly while a bandit stood over him, having a smoke.

  As Tristis closed in the final gap, the bandit turned to the noise. Whether the man was untrained or hunters were just too fast, he didn't have time to reach for his gun before it was all over. Tristis got right up to him, with a flourish grabbed the man's head, and—

  Tristis stared dumbfounded at the crumpled body. The neck had snapped easier than a solitary toothpick.

  All those nights struggling against monsters had skewed his expectations. He understood that regular people were weak, but he'd forgotten just how weak.

  For a moment he stood there staring at the body, waiting for the feelings to come. Something. Anything. But he was as unmoved as if he'd just slain a goblin or an orc. Was it because the man must have been evil? Or was he just so used to killing now?

  Alfonso was staring at him. Those eyes were filled not so much with relief but fear.

  He placed a finger to the balaclava over his lips. Alfonso nodded that he got the message.

  Next he leaned over and whispered instructions in the young man's ear. "I'll untie you now, but you've got to wait here until I give the all-clear. Do you understand?"

  Alfonso nodded again.

  He cut the bindings and removed the gag before turning his attention to the dead bandit. He retrieved the gun from the body and two spare magazines. There was also a set of keys and a wallet. He grabbed the keys and left the wallet. It didn't much matter who the man was anymore.

  Then he picked the flashlight from the floor and handed it to Alfonso, who clung to it like a lifeline.

  Upstairs Kyra waited for him at the door. He signaled his success. She made a series of hand motions that he understood according to the plan they'd discussed in the car. This had to look like a solitary rescue, so Alfonso couldn't be allowed to see her. She was going to leave first and make her own way back to Desaross. He was to sneak Alfonso out the way they came and take the car. There was no need to engage any of the bandits.

  He went back down into the cellar. Alfonso had been staring anxiously at the door and relaxed when he returned.

  "Stay close and don't make a noise," he whispered. "Ready?"

  He led the young man quietly up the stairs. At the top they killed the flashlight and continued in the dark.

  He went through the door first to check that the coast was clear before motioning for Alfonso to come through and head down the hallway to the kitchen. The card players' argument had settled down, but they were too engrossed in their game to notice anything amiss.

  He followed after Alfonso until there was a clatter up ahead and he saw the young man on the floor. He'd tripped over an end table.

  Tristis silently cursed himself out. How could he forget that regular people couldn't see so well in the dark?

  The commotion had drawn the card players from their den. Beams of light cast long shadows along the hallway as the bandits sought to understand what was going on.

  Tristis grabbed Alfonso and whispered urgently, "Run and hide out the back!"

  The men drew their guns. Before they could get them up, he was already in their midst. In his hand was the gun from the cellar. With the butt he smacked a man in the face.

  The man's nose collapsed like a chocolate egg and his skull struck the brick wall with a sickening crack.

  There was a brief moment when the other two bandits along with Tristis froze in horror. He thought he'd controlled his strength. He didn't mean for this to happen.

  The two retreated to their den, and Tristis followed. He caught up to one and pushed him down into the coffee table, sending cards and coins into the air.

  The remaining bandit was firing in a blind panic.

  While he wasn't fast enough to dodge bullets, he didn't have to when he could anticipate the firing line. Everything may as well have been slow motion when compared to the speed of a C-rank battle. Effortlessly he closed the distance and grabbed the man's wrist. The fragile bones crunched in his palm and the gun clattered to the floor.

  Tristis snatched up both weapons and went to leave. He hesitated in the doorway and looked back.

  The man he'd sent through the coffee table lay motionless but was breathing. The one with the broken wrist had backed into a corner and was staring at him fearfully.

  There was no reason they had to die, was there?

  Abruptly gunshots rang out behind him and his back stung from what felt like repeated hammer blows.

  He turned to find on the staircase a bandit he'd somehow missed. The man continued to unload into him until the gun clicked empty.

  How careless of him to forget that there might be one upstairs.

  He was bleeding all over the floorboards. But none of the bullets went that deep. Some were already being pushed out of his skin, and the holes they left behind were closing up. His body did this without any intervention from the gift of healing. It was simple hunter regeneration.

  The flashlight quivered in the staircase bandit's hands. There was a spare magazine on his belt, but that didn't seem to matter. The man stammered, "M-m-monster! Monster!" and scrambled back and tripped on the steps.

  With a heavy heart Tristis raised a gun and ended the man's life.

  He turned back to the men in the den. Earlier he could have justified letting them live. But now they'd seen too much. Word of magic couldn't be allowed to get out just yet.

  He raised the gun.

  The bandit with the broken wrist waved his good hand frantically. "I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything! Please spare us!"

  Tristis didn't understand himself. He felt no remorse over the three men he'd already killed. Yet he was hesitating to kill the remaining two.

  Maybe not everything had to make sense. There was a part of him that wanted to spare these men, and it was a part of him that he wanted to keep.

  He lowered the gun, turned around, and left through the kitchen.

  Outside he found Alfonso taking cover behind the detached garage and escorted him back to the hire car. There he changed out of his blood-soaked clothes and stuffed them into a gym bag. Then he put on a business suit that his master had told him to pack. And then it was a long drive back to Desaross to deliver Alfonso straight to a police station.