The rift trembled before Arthian saw her.
Not from impact — but from *the seeping wound of a failed escape.*
Arthian stopped walking. His hand clenched tight.
The Eye of Veracity opened automatically, reading a pattern of movement that did not belong to an ordinary prey.
*This is not a chase.*
*This is a herding.*
Verin burst out of the shadows, her body covered in fractures, dark blood dripping to the ground with a soft hiss.
She was not looking for him.
She was lunging into his space, like an animal driven into a corner.
And that was the clearest signal of all—
The hunters… *were close.*
---
"Get out." Verin spat blood, her voice hoarse. "Get out of here. Now."
Arthian didn't move.
The Eye of Veracity was reading the energy patterns surrounding her.
*The movement carries the rhythm of something other than prey.*
*This is a closing of escape routes.*
*A forced return into prepared ground.*
"They're using you as bait," he said, flat.
Verin let out a dry laugh. "You think I don't know?"
She tried to stand upright, but her knees buckled. "But I have no choice… they've driven me through four zones."
Heavy sounds rose from the shadows.
Three… no. Four silhouettes.
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Dense energy structures. Strands of power buried deep in bone.
Sub-zone-level suppressors.
They didn't rush. They didn't speak.
Because the laws of the territory were on their side.
---
"Two targets," one of them said, clipped. "This is fortunate."
Another stepped closer, studying Arthian.
"Combat energy at only 13%… yet still present in the deep rift?" It tilted its head. "Interesting."
Arthian didn't respond.
He was counting.
*Four.*
*First — dense power structure concentrated in the arms. Likely specialized in close-range assault.*
*Second — uneven energy flow. Has used a coercive technique recently.*
*Third — standing farthest back. Likely the space controller.*
*Fourth…*
He saw a small fracture on its chest.
*An old wound. Not fully healed.*
The Eye of Veracity began to see *the sequence of collapse.*
---
"I will ask once," the leader stepped forward. "Do either of you have anything worth trading for your lives?"
Verin struggled to rise. "Arthian… run…"
"Be still," he said quietly.
She flinched. Not from the command.
But from the tone of his voice.
*There was no fear in it at all.*
Arthian raised his eyes to the leader.
"I have something to offer."
All four shadows stopped.
"You want energy flesh, don't you?" he said slowly. "I have it to give… but not in the way you imagine."
The Void Field spread open in silence.
Not wide. But deep.
The leader halted immediately, feeling the ground beneath its feet *no longer responding as it had.*
*That was the first mistake.*
---
It attempted to use territorial force to crush him.
Arthian saw *the seam of the law* — the point through which power must pass in order to take effect.
He nudged it there.
Not with force. But with *void.*
The territorial law bent. The energy reflected back.
The leader dropped immediately — not erased, but its internal systems fractured.
"What… what did it do?!" the second one shouted.
Verin didn't wait.
She lunged — even though she shouldn't have. An energy blade tore through the air.
*In exchange for ripping away her own remaining lifespan.*
One life. For one opening.
The third fell before it could register what had happened.
Arthian used that gap.
The Void Field consumed the fourth one's attack, converting it into raw energy flesh.
*Heavy. Unclean. But of value.*
The last survivor attempted to retreat.
But the space no longer opened a path for it.
It was drawn in — not by force, but by *the logic of defeat.*
When that form dissolved, Arthian felt new weight settle in his chest.
The soul's core trembled, then tightened.
*13.7%*
---
Silence returned. Heavier than before.
Verin collapsed to her knees, breath coming in ragged pulls.
Arthian stepped closer — not to help, but to assess.
Her body was broken beyond repair. Vital force too depleted to recover on its own.
She had taken too many shortcuts.
And now the price had come due.
She raised her head. Smiled through the blood.
"You see…" Her voice trembled. "This… this is the cost of shortcuts."
He didn't reply.
But the power in his chest answered in place of words.
It tightened — as if to confirm that *he had not chosen the shortcut.*
"Remember this," Verin said slowly, each breath a labor.
"If you climb higher than this… don't expect to still have a shape."
Arthian looked at her. Not with pity. Not with gratitude.
He recorded.
She laughed softly. The sound was full of ruin — yet more sincere than anything he had ever heard.
"Go on. Before I change my mind and drag you down with me."
Arthian turned his back. Walked away.
He did not look back.
Because he knew this was the finest farewell.
That people like them could ever give one another.
---
He walked on, leaving behind only a broken form and a laugh that faded by degrees.
The power in his chest began to stir. Slow. Dense.
*Toward 14%.*
Arthian did not learn that shortcuts were wrong.
He learned that *shortcuts carry a price.*
And that price is not paid in installments.
It accumulates in silence — then calls in everything at once.
He did not feel fortunate for not having chosen the shortcut.
He felt that *walking slowly is paying the price in small amounts.*
And that hurts less.
By far.
Arthian stopped walking. Looked up at the warped sky.
"They know now," he said quietly.
"That I am here."
Eline walked up and stopped beside him.
"And what will you do?"
He didn't answer immediately.
He simply looked ahead — toward the darkness that deepened with every step.
"I will keep walking," he answered.
"Until there is nowhere left to walk."
*(End of Chapter 37)*
