But the lone figure perched behind the remains of an old overpass, the one who had watched the hunters move with practiced efficiency.
It was a stench that could never be forgotten.
She knew this team. She’d seen them before. Watched them for months.
They weren’t the strongest out there by any means—no legendary names, no grandiose titles—but they were efficient. Coordinated. And the way they moved, covering one another, executing kills without wasted motion — it was something she had come to admire.
The leader, who had landed the killing blow was given the honor of carving the first prize of the massive carcass. It was something Ashe had seen her do more then once before.
But every so often, when Ashe least expected it, the woman would turn and look in her direction as if she could sense her—see her hidden in the rubble. But then the hunter would just look away.
The others were interesting in their own right. One used precise spellwork to seal the volatile yet extremely valuable monster fluids into containment vials.
Another handled the people, the all important paperwork paperwork, all the little mundane things that put food on the table, kept the feds from looking too close and kept Uncle Sam happy.
They made it look easy. But they all made mistakes. A misplaced step here, a miss labeled loot drop there, an overlooked piece of scrap.
Just what she needed.
Ashe’s fingers curled slightly around the blade strapped to her waist. This was going to be a profitable day.
As the hunters left and the harvesters took over, Ashe made her move.
[Stealth skill Engaged “Veil of shadows” ]
Status: Hidden
Detection Risk: Minimal.
Coolness factor: Maximum
Or at least that’s what she imagined it would look like if she had any skills.
But the truth is skills require either money, talent, or a combination of the two. That's just how things in great US of A go.
And she unfortunately had the luxury of neither so... it was just ordinary sneaking for her.
She reached up, pulling her hair into a tight bun, tucking away any stray strands that might catch the light. But it wasn’t easy.
Most of her hair was a deep, inky black, swallowing the light like the shadows she moved through. But the strands framing her face told a different story. Two vivid streaks of pure white cut through the darkness, starting at her temples and tumbling down in uneven waves—like cracks in a carefully crafted disguise.
She had tried to cover them before, drowning them in dye, but the white always bled through, untouched, untamed. A permanent mark of the past. A warning.
She had to be extra careful.
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Especially in a place like this. An exclusion zone.
Exclusion Zones are more than your average restricted areas—they are sacred ground, holy land dedicated to those who had spilt blood upon it.
That is until the harvesters had stripped the carcass, gathered everything of value and taken their cut of the spoils of course. After that it was just another plot of desolate land, vacant and waiting for another group of hunters to stake their claim. Waiting for the next countdown.
Until then though. It was locked tight. That means, no civilians. No unauthorized personnel. And definitely no scavengers.
Not that Ashe had ever let it stop her. She couldn’t let it..
She moved like a shadow, weaving through the wreckage and debris with a practiced precision. Each step measured, deliberate, silent—never too fast, never too slow. No time to hesitate. Hesitation meant suspicion. Speed meant desperation. Both got people caught.
She had learned that the hard way.
Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, but her hands remained steady as she slipped through the chaos left behind. Scorched earth. Bloodstained concrete. The air thick with the scent of iron and charred chitin.
The battle had been brief but brutal, and in its wake, the victorious hunters stood triumphant, securing their prizes while the harvesters swarmed in to dissect the fallen beast.
From her hiding spot beneath the rusted husk of a collapsed overpass, she watched them work.
“I think we’re gonna make our money back on this one boss!” One of the hunters said, turning a well preserved armor plating in his hand, “It was a lot better than that absolute garbage that showed up last time. I still can’t believe we waited two weeks for twelve little raptors!”
As he turned to face the other day, Ashe slipped by. Closing the distance in her prize.
Cut. Carve. Collect.
The valuable parts—the armored plating, venom sacs, mana-rich cores—were quickly sealed away in reinforced containers, earmarked for the markets,auctions or elite trade houses. No doubt destined to one day return to this or another exclusion zone in the form of armor, potions or weaponry.
Anything deemed too low-grade, too damaged or too useless to be sold was often left to rot under the sun.
That’s what she was here for. Not glory. Not status. Just what others left behind.
There were two rules in scavenging.
Don’t get greedy.
Don’t get caught.
Those were the words she lived by. The motto that had saved her life on more than one occasion.
Her fingers twitched inside her worn gloves as she prepared to move. She had seconds—maybe less—before another scavenger tried the same — or worse someone came looking. In this game, hesitation meant starvation.
She was on a mission.. Failure wasn’t an option.
So she slipped forward. Silent. Invisible
The trick wasn’t just stealth—it was anticipation. The harvesters were methodical. Predictable. It wasn’t hard to remember where she could hide and where she couldn’t.
She knew which pieces they would prioritize, what they would overlook, and—most importantly—when their backs would be turned.
Her eyes scanned the ground. Plated chitin shards. A broken fang. A shattered stinger. Nothing worth much, but enough to trade for a meal.
[Items Acquired]
- Chitin Fragment – Grade D (Low Durability)
- Abyssal Fang – Grade C (Chipped, Low Market Value)
Not much, but better than nothing.
She crouched low, reaching for a discarded venom sac—damaged, leaking, barely usable—but still worth something to the right buyer.
Just as her fingers brushed against it—
“HEY, KID! THAT DOESN’T BELONG TO YOU!” A booming voice echoed, “ WE GOT A GANKER!”
Ashe froze.
Her heartbeat didn’t spike. His breathing didn’t falter. Not for him.
Slowly, she turned her head, just enough to see.
Not her problem.
A boy—young, desperate, and sloppy—stood paralyzed in terror as a patrolman stomped toward him.
“Idiot.” She thought to herself. “Why do the morons have to ruin it for the rest of us?”
Ashe didn’t wait to see what happened next. It was too dangerous to stick around now that everyone was on high alert!
By the time anyone came looking she was already gone.