Arthian walked out of the dead territory without looking back.

  Not because it held no value, but because everything of value was no longer there.

  The Indigo Rift gradually changed character. From crushing pressure to expanding emptiness. Gray zones. The universe's borderlands. Where beings too weak were hunted, and those too worthless were ruled.

  Energy here was thin, scattered. No waves of greed assaulting the senses.

  *Too quiet.*

  Arthian stopped. Hand clenched at his side. This wasn't safety. This was a graveyard.

  In the Indigo Rift, stillness never meant safety. It meant *nothing left*.

  The 5% soul core in his chest vibrated faintly. He scanned the surroundings. No scent of blood. No energy remains. Only emptiness too clean.

  *Too clean = someone swept through.*

  Then he saw her.

  A figure sat leaning against corroded rock worn smooth. Body outline blurred like a reflection on drying water.

  *Elene.*

  She didn't rise. Didn't move. Eyes looking through him. Not because she couldn't see, but because she didn't expect.

  Arthian stood still at a distance anyone should retreat from.

  Ten seconds passed. She still didn't move.

  Finally she spoke, voice dry, without pleading.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "There's nothing here for you to devour."

  A pause.

  "Hunter."

  Arthian stepped closer. Slowly. Hands not raised. Posture non-threatening.

  "I didn't come to devour you."

  "Then why?" Elene's voice was cold. "There's nothing left here."

  "There is," Arthian replied. "Stillness."

  She looked up at him for the first time. Gaze sharp. "You're running here?"

  "Not running," he shook his head. "I chose."

  Elene stared at him another three seconds, then turned away. "The choices of the weak have no meaning."

  "I'm not weak," Arthian said, voice level. "I'm just not strong enough yet."

  The corner of Elene's mouth twitched slightly. Not a smile, but acknowledgment that at least he knew himself.

  Arthian sat down. Moderate distance from her. Not close enough to call companionship. Not far enough to call avoidance.

  He adjusted his breathing. Let the compressed 5% relax. Not absorbing. Not rushing. Not forcing.

  Natural energy seeped in. Slow. Steady. Pure.

  *Natural Veracity current*, he thought. *Very small. So thin most beings don't sense it. But pure.*

  This place wasn't abandoned. This place was forgotten by the world. And what the world forgot was often safer than what it remembered.

  Elene opened her eyes. Looked at him with an unreadable gaze.

  "You... aren't afraid?"

  "Afraid of what?" Arthian asked back.

  "Death. Being eaten. Disappearing without anyone remembering."

  He thought a moment, then answered.

  "I'm afraid," he admitted. "But fear doesn't make me stop. It just makes me careful."

  Elene stared at him long, then closed her eyes. "You're insane."

  "Perhaps," Arthian conceded. "But the sane ones in this world die faster."

  This time Elene actually laughed. A short, dry sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

  "Maybe you have a right to survive," she said. "If you're not too stupid."

  Arthian didn't respond. He closed his eyes, returning to breath control.

  Time passed. No conversation. But this silence was different from before. Not oppressive. It was the silence of two people who chose to occupy the same space.

  When Arthian opened his eyes, he knew the soul core had "settled" more. Bones no longer cracking. Skin no longer overheating.

  Still 5%, but more stable than before. Like roots beginning to grip soil.

  He stood. Elene remained seated where she was. Her form had faded slightly more.

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "Not going," Arthian replied. "Just changing position."

  "..."

  He sat down again. This time slightly closer than before.

  Elene looked at him. "Why?"

  "This place is suitable," he answered briefly.

  "Suitable for what?"

  "For someone who doesn't want to be disturbed," he paused. "And for someone who doesn't want to be alone."

  Elene stared at him, eyes sharp. "You think I want company?"

  "No," Arthian shook his head. "But I think you don't want enemies."

  She didn't answer, but she didn't drive him away either.

  In the distance, something began moving. 6% energy. Not strong enough to threaten, but clear enough to notice.

  Arthian felt it immediately. He didn't turn to look.

  "Someone's coming," he said, voice calm.

  Elene opened her eyes. Looked in the same direction, then closed them again.

  "They're not my concern," she said. "But if you die, I won't collect your remains."

  Arthian smiled faintly. "I'll try not to die."

  The void in his chest began to wake. Not rushing. Not anxious. Just ready.

  He wasn't preparing to fight. Wasn't preparing to flee.

  He was preparing to *devour*.

  In that silence there was only the sound of wind passing, and two figures sitting apart. Not far. Not close. Just right.

  And in the shadows outside, something was moving closer. Slowly. Very patient. Like a hunter who knew prey couldn't escape.