We arrive at Storm Fang territory just past noon, sweat clinging to the inside of our armor like a curse and tension chewing through every muscle fiber.
The air here doesn't just feel cold—it judges you.
Thick with mana, spiked with ice, and the quiet kind of dangerous that usually ends in blood.
Storm Fang doesn’t build cities.
They carve survival into cliffs and call it home.
There’s four of us: me, Tipo, and two Crimson grunts Veyros sent like disposable health potions with legs. No Pleit.
Of course. Too important. Too “intellectual.” We are expendable.
We’re the pawns sent to poke the bear and report back if we survive. I hate how routine that feels.
They’re already waiting when we hit the clearing—Storm Fang.
The leader stands at the front like a statue built from fury and winter steel.
She 's massive. Broad shoulders. Ice-colored scars webbing one side of her throat. Arms crossed like she's holding back the apocalypse.
Behind her? Three Hunters. Silent. Still. Eyes like predators deciding which limb to tear off first. Not one smile among them.
Typical.
I nudge Tipo. “You’re up.”
He adjusts his collar. “Charisma 62, baby. Let me work.”
He steps forward. “We’re here on Guild business. One of yours crossed into Crimson territory. Female. Blade-wielder. Precise. Intent to kill. Storm Fang training written all over her.”
Silence. Then, with all the smug of a bard in a thunderstorm: “We come in peace… unless you’re hiding a rogue sword-witch who nearly gutted my best friend. Then we come in slightly-less-peace.”
I physically flinch. My Compatibility Index for this man drops ten points.
[Tipo - Compatibility: 44%]
The Storm Fang leader tilts her head, slowly. “Was it your first head injury... or just the latest?”
Behind her, someone snorts. And that’s when I know.
This is going to go sideways.
One of their Hunters steps forward.
Giant. Armor plated in fractured obsidian and frost-slick bone. Two-handed war axe already loose in his grip. Voice like stone dragged over gravel: “You calling us liars?”
I should de-escalate.
Instead, Tipo, bless him, grins. “No, no. I’m calling you accomplices, big guy. There’s a difference.”
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[Charisma Check: Tipo – Failed]
Steel sings. A blade hisses halfway free.
The leader doesn’t stop it.
“You heard them,” she says, voice like an avalanche. “They came here wanting blood.”
I raise a hand. “Wait—”
Too late.
[Combat Initiated]
[Enemy Recognition: Storm Fang Elite Squad]
[Combat Advantage: None]
The axe comes first, arcing through the air toward Tipo’s skull. He ducks, rolls, and counters with a spinning thrust that knocks the attacker sideways.
Tipo shouts mid-spin, “Okay maybe I should’ve opened with something softer”
I launch into the sky, wind blasting against my armor as my glaive ignites with aerial heat.
Skill Activated: Vaulting Pierce (Lv.4)
+22% Aerial Crit Chance
I slam down on the nearest Hunter’s shoulder. Bone crunches. He staggers.
“Next time,” I grunt, twisting my blade, “open with an apology.”
Then I see him.
The real threat.
The juggernaut.
Eight feet tall if he’s an inch. Bone-mauls in each hand, chest armor carved from what looks like Tyrant spine. Eyes dead.
[Big guy - Compatibility: 5%]
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “That’s terrible.”
The earth bucks beneath me. He slams into me like a siege engine.
My ribs crack. I fly.
Ten feet. Maybe more. I hit a tree. The world implodes.
Pain eats everything. I cough,and there it is. Blood. Warm. Bright. Familiar.
I roll as his mauls bury into the spot I just vacated. Roots explode. Dirt rains down.
I scramble up, shoulder shrieking. “Alright. No more compatibility scans during combat. Noted.”
He swings again—I meet it with an upward glaive slash.
Clash: Power vs Precision
I lose.
The impact sends me sliding. But I’m not done.
I lunge, kick off a tree, twist mid-air, and slam the glaive down with everything I’ve got.
Critical Hit!
Neck Strike | Penetration Bonus: +15%
Enemy Staggered
He grunts, drops to one knee. Not finished.
He grabs my ankle and flings me like a rock at a mana barrier.
I bounce. Once. Twice. Land face-first in snow and shame.
Tipo’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Alvertium! Don’t die! we need your glaive!”
“Not dying,” I wheeze. “Just… recharging.”
Tipo’s holding his own. Sort of. One enemy down. Another limping. His spear sings through the air—fluid and fast. The guy might talk too much, but in combat? He’s art.
“I swear,” he gasps, parrying another blow, “if I die because of bad guild paperwork…”
I drag myself upright. Vision blurs. Blood slicks my gloves.
The Storm Fang leader finally raises her voice. “Enough!”
Her warriors freeze.
She eyes me. Eyes Tipo. Then spits into the frost.
“We’re done here. Leave before we decide to really fight.”
Tipo wheezes. “Honestly? That sounds fair.”
I spit out a leaf. “Next time, I’m talking first.”
And just like that, it’s over.
We limp back through the mountain pass—half-dead, zero pride, and still technically alive.
I don’t know what this means.
But I know one thing for sure.
This wasn’t a battle.
It was a warning shot.
And next time?
No one’s walking away.
[Alvertium – Rank C Hunter]
Level: 34 (EXP: 12,590 / 25,000)
[ +7,000 EXP: Survival Against Overwhelming Odds – Enemy Level Disparity Detected]
[Strength: 50 (+ 5)
Perception: 64 (+ 2)
Endurance: 47 (+ 6)
Charisma: 30
Intelligence: 54
Agility: 76 (+4)
Luck: 35]
[– Harmonic Insight (Lv.5) LEVEL UP – Measures compatibility between people, weapons, creatures, objects, the void, etc.
– Insect Glaive Mastery (Lv.6) LEVEL UP – Aerial mobility, mid-air combos, faster repositioning.
– Bestial Instincts (Lv.3) – Heightened reactions and threat detection against monsters.]
[Level UP: 39 (EXP: 22,290 / 25,000)]
