Alex didn't lower his blade.
The silence after the fight pressed in, heavier than it should have been. Gravel shifted under his boot as he adjusted his stance, keeping distance between them.
She noticed.
Her eyes flicked to the angle of his sword, then back to his face.
"You can relax," she said, dragging a cloth along her blade. "If I wanted to attack you, I wouldn't wait until now."
Alex didn't move.
"That still doesn't explain anything. Who are you? Why did you follow me?"
She let out a quiet breath through her nose, like she'd expected that.
"No," she said. "It doesn't."
"You can call me Sarah and i wasn't following you"
Alex Frowned.
Rolled his shoulder slightly. Pain flared—sharp, but manageable.
"That wasn't a bandit job."
She glanced at the bodies, then at the mark beneath their robes.
"No."
"You had an idea?"
"Yes," she said. "Something felt wrong the moment I saw the request."
Her grip tightened slightly on the cloth in her hand before she folded it away.
"They've been showing up more often," she added. "Not everywhere. Just enough that it stops being coincidence."
Alex crouched beside the overturned wagon.
The wheel hadn't snapped—it had been forced inward, like something had pressed down with controlled force. Not wild. Deliberate.
He ran his eyes over the empty frame.
"No cargo."
"Not stolen," she said. "Taken."
He glanced back at her.
"Meaning?"
"They came for something specific."
Alex straightened slowly, scanning the road ahead.
"And the people?"
Her gaze drifted toward the distant trees.
Her jaw set—just slightly.
"They didn't leave on their own."
That was answer enough.
Alex stepped toward one of the fallen cultists and pulled the robe aside.
The symbol underneath wasn't stitched—it was embedded into a thin metal plate, fixed beneath the fabric.
He frowned.
"Recognize it?"
She moved closer.
Just one step.
That was enough.
For an instant, something flickered in her eyes—recognition, sharp and immediate—before it disappeared.
"…I've seen it before."
Alex looked up at her, waiting for more.
"Cultists," she replied.
Alex let the fabric fall back into place.
His gaze shifted—wagons, bodies, the road stretching too quietly in both directions.
Everything lined up too cleanly.
Too controlled.
He looked at her again.
"You were already looking for them."
She didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it either.
"We should head back," she said, turning away from the wreckage. "If you want this mission counted, you'll need to report it properly."
***
The walk back was quiet.
Near the edge of the city, she stopped.
"I'll go from here."
Alex slowed.
"Why?"
She turned just enough to meet his eyes.
"You don't need to know"
That was all she said.
She started to leave, then paused, like she was reconsidering saying anything at all.
"If you keep picking missions like this without understanding what you're stepping into," she said, her voice steady but colder now, "you won't last."
Then she was gone.
The Hunter Hall felt different when he stepped back inside.
Louder.
Or maybe he was just noticing more now.
Alex walked to the counter and set the mission slip down.
The clerk glanced at it, then at him.
"You're back fast."
"It wasn't bandits," Alex said. "Two peak initiates. Cult involvement."
That got his attention.
The clerk straightened slightly.
"You're sure about that?"
"Yes."
A beat passed as the man studied him.
"You'll need proof."
Alex nodded.
"I figured." placing the robe he picked from them.
"Cult?"
Rovan's voice cut in from the side.
Alex turned.
Rovan wasn't leaning anymore. His posture had shifted, focus sharper now as he looked Alex over—checking, measuring.
"You ran into a cult on your first mission?" he said, brows pulling together slightly.
Alex held his gaze.
"They didn't seem interested in me."
Rovan let out a quiet breath, something between a scoff and concern.
"Yeah," he said. "That's usually when things get worse."
"So, tell me more about whatever this cult or whatever..."