Etzel had one goal for the day.
A normal hunt. No anomalies. No dead creatures with impossible wounds. No mysterious influences. No dungeon authorities wearing other creatures like stolen crowns.
Just something alive, hostile, and preferably stupid enough to understand.
DK walked beside him. Etzel looked over. “Today, nothing mysterious.”
DK did not immediately answer. That was already a bad sign.
“You have said that before.”
“Today I mean it.”
“You meant it before.”
Etzel frowned. “Your memory is becoming inconvenient.”
“I remember yesterday.”
“That still counts.”
The hunting zone ahead was small. Low-threat. Monitored. Far from Sector 14. Exactly what Etzel wanted.
He checked the public map again. Then once more.
DK noticed. “You already checked.”
“I am developing responsibility.”
“You checked it three times before entering the forest where you found the dungeon anomaly.”
Etzel lowered the device. “That was a hostile use of historical information.”
DK continued walking. Etzel followed. “Today is different.”
“How?”
“I’m Level Seven.”
DK stopped. Etzel stopped too, then slowly closed his eyes.
“Six.”
“Yes.”
“Level Six.”
“Yes.”
“I knew that.”
“You did not.”
“I was testing you.”
DK resumed walking. Etzel stared at his back. “I’m surrounded by betrayal.”
Their first target appeared twenty minutes later. Nothing special. That was beautiful.
A narrow-bodied creature with long rear legs and a plated skull tried to rush Etzel from behind a fallen tree. Etzel saw it early. Set his feet. Held the spear line.
The creature swerved. Etzel adjusted. Thrust. Missed. Recovered.
The creature lunged again. Etzel moved. This time he didn’t chase the body; he controlled the space. The creature tried to cut inside the spear’s reach. Etzel shortened his grip, hit it across the shoulder with the shaft, created distance, extended again, and landed one thrust beneath the jaw.
The creature collapsed.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONEventAshleg Runner DefeatedProgressLevel Progression Gained
Etzel waited. Nothing else. He nodded. “Good.”
DK looked at him. “You are pleased you did not Level.”
“I wanted normal.”
“You complained when Level Six gave you nothing.”
“I contain contradictions.”
“That is increasingly obvious.”
Etzel pulled the spear free. No strange black residue. No unusual Core. No clean wound from an unknown predator. Nothing. Perfect.
He cleaned the spearhead. “See?”
DK looked around.
Etzel smiled. “Normal.”
A scream came from farther through the trees.
Etzel’s smile disappeared. DK looked at him.
Etzel stared into the forest. “No.”
Another voice. Human. Female. “Get away from me!”
Etzel moved before the echo faded. Branches struck his shoulders as he ran. DK followed—not ahead, not behind enough to matter, just there.
The voice came again. Closer. Then a man shouted something Etzel couldn’t understand.
Etzel broke through the trees.
The clearing beyond was small. A young woman stood near a fallen log. One wrist was trapped in a man’s hand. Her weapon lay several meters away in the grass. She was fighting him—not waiting—her free hand clawed across his face.
The man cursed and struck her hard enough to knock her sideways. She stumbled. He pulled her back.
Etzel stopped. Something inside him went very still.
The man noticed him. Older than Etzel, mid-twenties perhaps. Hunter clothes. Short blade at his hip. A reinforced jacket. Blood across one cheek where the woman had scratched him.
He looked Etzel over. The spear. The light armor. The lack of Hunter insignia.
Then his eyes moved past Etzel. DK had stopped at the edge of the trees, partially obscured. The man didn’t seem to register what he was seeing. Good.
“Walk away,” the Hunter said.
Etzel looked at the woman. She was breathing fast. One side of her face was reddening. Her eyes met his—alert, angry, afraid, but not broken.
Etzel looked back at the man. “Let her go.”
The Hunter smiled. Not pleasantly. “You deaf?”
“No.”
“Then leave.”
Etzel’s grip changed slightly on the spear.
SURVEY RECORD: SPECIMEN IDENTIFIEDTargetHuman HunterLevel7RankF
One Level above Etzel.
Etzel said: “Let her go.”
The man’s smile disappeared. “You think that stick makes you dangerous?”
“No.” Etzel lowered the spear point. “But it helps.”
The Hunter released the woman. For one second, Etzel thought he had actually listened. Then the man shoved her hard enough to send her to the ground and drew his blade.
Etzel moved between them. “Can you move?” he asked without looking back.
“Yes.” Her voice shook. Still strong.
“Get behind me.”
“I can fight.”
“I believe you.”
The Hunter stepped forward. Etzel added: “Get your weapon first.”
That made her pause. Then she moved. Fast. Good.
The man lunged. Etzel expected a normal attack. He did not get one.
One instant the Hunter was four meters away. The next—his blade was already inside the spear line.
Etzel twisted. Steel scraped across the reinforced shaft. The impact drove the spear sideways. The Hunter’s shoulder slammed into Etzel’s chest. Etzel staggered.
The blade came back. Fast. Too fast.
Etzel pulled the rear of the spear across. Blocked. Barely.
The Hunter smiled. Etzel retreated one step. Then another.
Something was wrong. Not merely speed. The man’s movement had changed completely. His balance. Foot placement. Blade control. For two seconds, perhaps three—he looked like a better fighter. Not stronger. Better.
Then he broke away. His breathing sharpened. One hand twitched.
Etzel saw it. The Hunter’s expression changed when he realized Etzel had seen it. Interesting.
Etzel raised the spear. “What was that?”
“Your last warning.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
The Hunter attacked again. This time Etzel was ready for speed. It didn’t help. The man’s body changed differently. His shoulders tightened. His stance dropped. He caught the spear shaft in one hand.
Etzel’s eyes widened.
The Hunter shoved. Hard. Far harder than before. Etzel lost the line.
The blade came toward his ribs. Etzel turned. The edge cut fabric—not flesh. He drove his knee forward.
The Hunter absorbed it. Too easily.
Then the strange strength disappeared. The man staggered. His forearm spasmed. Just once.
Etzel saw that too. The Hunter swore. Etzel backed away.
DK remained at the clearing’s edge. Watching.
The woman had reached her weapon now—a short spear. She stood behind Etzel and slightly to the side. Smart.
The Hunter looked between them, then at DK. “What the hell is he?”
Etzel didn’t answer. His attention remained on the man. First exchange: faster, cleaner, then fatigue. Second: stronger, then muscle failure.
Etzel’s thoughts accelerated. Stamina ability?
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Witness remained silent. Good. Wrong, then. Probably. Or simply not understood.
The Hunter rushed again. Etzel set the spear. The man stopped short. For the first time, he hesitated.
Etzel saw it. Not fear. Calculation. This one could think. That made everything worse.
The Hunter feinted left. Etzel followed. Too much. The man immediately moved right. Etzel corrected. The blade flashed. Etzel barely kept the spear between them.
A creature would have committed. This man watched Etzel’s eyes. Watched his shoulders. Read the spear. Etzel disliked the experience immensely.
“You’re annoying,” he said.
The Hunter slashed. Etzel pulled back.
“Shut up.”
“That supports my conclusion.”
The man vanished forward again. Not vanished—Etzel corrected himself. Accelerated. A burst.
This time Etzel didn’t attack. He watched. The Hunter crossed the distance impossibly fast, but—straight.
Etzel shifted late. The blade missed his chest. Almost. The Hunter tried to correct mid-step. Couldn’t. Not enough. He passed Etzel by half a meter.
Etzel turned. The spear shaft struck his back. The man stumbled, then recovered.
Etzel’s eyes narrowed. Something. Not enough. He tested it again.
The Hunter circled. Etzel gave him an opening. Too obvious? Perhaps. The man took it anyway.
Another burst. Forward. Committed.
Etzel moved the spear point away instead of blocking. The Hunter followed the false line—and again his correction came late.
Etzel struck his thigh with the flat of the spearhead. The man hissed and broke away.
No System message. Not yet.
Etzel smiled faintly. The Hunter noticed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“That’s usually what people say when I start understanding things.”
The Hunter’s expression changed. Small, but real. Etzel caught it. Oh. That mattered.
The man inhaled. His posture shifted. Again.
Etzel felt it before he saw it. Something changed around him. Not visible energy, exactly. Potential becoming temporary reality.
The Hunter moved. Speed. Technique. Not just faster—his blade work became cleaner again. Future skill?
Etzel blocked. Once. Twice. The third attack forced him backward.
The woman moved to help. “Stay back,” Etzel said.
The Hunter laughed. “Afraid she’ll see you lose?”
“No.” Etzel caught another strike. His arms shook. “I’m afraid you’ll use her to change the angle.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. Correct. Etzel had guessed right. Or close enough.
The borrowed state faded. The Hunter’s breathing broke. His right hand trembled.
Etzel watched. Then understood another piece. Not enhancement. Borrowing. Different attributes. Different aftereffects.
He spoke before thinking: “You’re not boosting yourself.”
The Hunter froze for half a beat. Etzel saw it. “You’re borrowing something.”
Now the man’s expression hardened. “Borrowed Tomorrow.”
Etzel blinked. “That is an excellent name.”
The Hunter lunged. Etzel blocked. “Terrible person.”
Another strike. Etzel retreated. “Great branding.”
“Shut up!”
There. The name was enough. Not the mechanics, but enough to frame the problem. Borrowed Tomorrow. Something from a possible future version. Temporary. Then debt.
Etzel had seen two debts already: speed and technique, then nervous tremor; strength, then muscle failure. Different borrowed qualities. Different repayment. The ability wasn’t simply exhausting him. The cost matched what he took.
Etzel’s excitement cooled. Because that meant the ability was far better than the man using it.
The Hunter attacked again. This time—speed.
Etzel saw the posture change. Saw the instant commitment. The man exploded forward.
Etzel did not try to beat him. He stepped away from where the man expected him to be. The Hunter corrected. Late. Only slightly. Enough.
Etzel didn’t strike. He watched what happened after. Right leg. A brief delay. The foot landed badly. The man covered it immediately. Interesting.
Again. Etzel pressed him. Not enough to kill. Enough to force another Borrow.
The Hunter’s face twisted. “You think you’re winning?”
“No.” Etzel kept the spear moving. “I think you’re getting impatient.”
The man surged. Strength this time. He slapped the spear aside.
Etzel let it move. Didn’t resist. The man overcommitted. Etzel stepped around.
The state ended. The man’s shoulder spasmed. Etzel struck the forearm. The blade nearly fell. Nearly.
The Hunter retreated. Etzel saw the pattern now. Borrow. Perform above current limits. Pay. Not later. Not tomorrow. Now. At least partly.
But that was still too broad. He needed the actual combat Flaw. The one that mattered.
Etzel watched the next activation. Speed. The man chose a line, then burst. Could he change it? Not properly. And when it ended—the same tissues that had carried the borrowed performance dipped below baseline. Not random exhaustion. A performance collapse tied to what he had taken.
Etzel understood.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONEventFlaw WitnessedStatusRecognition ConfirmedDataDebt-Followed Performance Collapse
Etzel smiled. The Hunter saw it. “What?”
“I understand your ability.”
For the first time—the man looked afraid. He activated Borrowed Tomorrow again. Speed.
Etzel backed away. The Hunter charged. Etzel did not contest the first second, or the second. He simply survived the borrowed future. Blade. Step. Turn. Spear shaft. Distance.
The man was better during the Borrow. Much better. Etzel accepted that.
Then it ended. The right leg delayed. Exactly as before.
Etzel moved. The spear tip appeared in front of the leg’s recovery path. The Hunter could step onto it—or stop.
He stopped. That trapped his weight.
Etzel rotated the shaft. Crack. Wood struck wrist. The knife flew from his hand.
The Hunter cursed and punched. Etzel pulled the spear short, blocked with the shaft. The man grabbed it. Etzel let go with one hand, hit him across the face with the rear end.
The Hunter staggered. The woman moved. Her short spear stopped at the man’s side. He froze.
For one moment, Etzel thought it was over. Then the Hunter smiled through blood. “Fine.”
Etzel’s stomach sank. Something inside the man shifted harder than before.
DK took one step forward. Etzel felt it.
The Hunter Borrowed again. Too much. His body changed violently. Muscles tightened. Eyes sharpened. Movement became terrifyingly clean.
Etzel barely raised the spear before the man hit him. Impact. Etzel flew backward, hit the ground, rolled. His ribs screamed.
The woman thrust. The Hunter avoided it with contemptuous ease and struck the shaft aside. Not her. Good. At least he was still focused on Etzel.
Etzel forced himself up. DK moved again. Etzel shook his head once. Not yet.
The man rushed. Etzel blocked, lost ground, blocked again, lost more. The borrowed state was stronger now. Far stronger.
But Etzel knew what came after. If he survived it.
That was the problem. Understanding was not skill. He had learned that lesson thoroughly.
The Hunter cut toward his neck. Etzel ducked. The blade grazed hair. He stepped inside—bad distance for a spear, good distance for the shaft.
Etzel drove it into the man’s ribs. Nothing. Borrowed durability. Of course.
The Hunter laughed. Etzel grimaced. “That ability is incredible.”
“Shut up.”
The Hunter punched him. Etzel barely rolled with it. His vision flashed. “You’re terrible at it.”
That hit harder than the spear had. The man’s face twisted. He attacked again, angrier, less precise.
Etzel gave ground. One step. Two. Three.
The borrowed state flickered. The Hunter forced it. His left arm trembled. His right knee shook. Still he continued.
Etzel waited. The woman understood too. She didn’t intervene; she simply moved far enough that the man could not use her as an escape route. Good.
The Hunter raised the blade. His borrowed future broke. All at once.
His right leg failed. His shoulder sagged. His breath disappeared.
Etzel moved. Not the spearhead—the shaft.
Wrist. Crack. The blade dropped.
Knee. The rear of the spear struck sideways. The man collapsed onto one leg.
Etzel stepped behind him, hooked the shaft across the shoulder, and turned. The Hunter hit the ground. Etzel placed the spear point against his throat.
Everyone stopped.
The Hunter breathed hard. His eyes burned with hatred. “Do it.”
Etzel looked down at him. “No.”
The man laughed weakly. “Coward.”
Etzel’s expression did not change. “You don’t get to make that choice easier for me.”
The Hunter’s smile vanished.
DK approached. The moment he entered full view, the man’s face changed. Silver armor. Sword. Shield. The presence of someone whose danger did not need explanation.
“You—”
DK ignored him.
The woman lowered her weapon slightly. Not completely. Good. Etzel liked her already.
“Are you hurt badly?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.” Then hesitated. “My face. Wrist.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Etzel looked down at the Hunter. “Now what?”
The woman stared at him. “You’re asking me?”
“I’m unregistered.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That explains almost nothing.”
“Correct.”
DK crouched beside the Hunter. The man tried to move. DK placed one hand on his shoulder. He stopped moving. Immediately.
Etzel looked at DK. “Can we keep him restrained?”
“Yes.”
The Hunter laughed. “You think rope will hold me?”
DK looked at him, then at Etzel. “Yes.”
That answer carried enough certainty to make Etzel feel better.
They used climbing cord from the woman’s pack. DK tied the Hunter to a thick tree—wrists, arms, chest, legs. The knots were—aggressive.
Etzel watched. “That seems excessive.”
“He can borrow physical strength.”
Etzel nodded. “Continue.”
The Hunter cursed at them. DK tightened another knot.
Etzel looked away. “Beautiful work.”
The woman retrieved the Hunter’s dropped identification device. The screen activated against his thumb after DK pressed it into place. A public alert appeared:
PUBLIC ALERTSubjectWANTED HUNTERNameRhel VaskenLevel / RankLevel: 7 / Hunter Rank: FAbilityBorrowed TomorrowStatusACTIVE WARRANT
Below it was a list of charges: violent assault, repeated assault, evasion, outstanding warrants in multiple districts.
Etzel read them, then looked at Rhel. “You had paperwork before today.”
“Go to hell.”
Etzel nodded. “Apparently you’ve been sending invitations.”
The woman gave a short laugh. It surprised all three of them—herself most of all. Etzel was glad. The danger had passed enough for humor to exist again. That mattered.
He looked at the public emergency channel on the device. They could report the location, but Etzel would have to be careful: no Registry ID, no official Hunter statement under his own profile, no explanation of DK.
He entered the coordinates:
WANTED HUNTER LOCATED
SUBJECT RESTRAINED
SUBJECT ALIVE
He attached Rhel’s public ID with no personal information.
The woman looked at him. “They’ll ask who did this.”
“Probably.”
“What do I tell them?”
Etzel paused. “The truth.”
She stared. “That an unregistered spear fighter and a silver knight appeared from the trees?”
Etzel considered. “That does sound suspicious.”
DK looked at him. Etzel sighed. “Tell them I intervened. Tell them I left before pickup.”
“And him?” She looked toward DK.
Etzel opened his mouth. Nothing useful came.
DK answered for himself: “DK.”
The woman blinked. Etzel closed his eyes. “Of course.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The woman looked between them. “You two are strange.”
“Frequently reported.”
The response unit was already on the way—twelve minutes. Etzel did not want to be there when they arrived. The woman could wait at a distance while keeping the tied Hunter in sight. She had her weapon, her communicator, and the emergency response location was confirmed.
Etzel checked Rhel’s restraints one last time.
Then the woman spoke: “What’s your name?”
He stopped. DK looked at him. Etzel knew that look—he was hiding, mostly, but not from her.
“Etzel.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Etzel.”
For once, he didn’t joke. “You’re welcome.”
Then he and DK left.
After they were well beyond the clearing, DK spoke. “You gave her your name.”
“She asked.”
“You are hiding.”
“I’m hiding from bureaucracy, not gratitude.”
DK considered that, then nodded. “Reasonable.”
Etzel looked at him. “Did you just approve one of my decisions?”
“No.”
“There you are.”
They had walked perhaps five minutes when the System appeared. Etzel stopped.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONEventHostile Hunter Neutralized
His expression changed. DK turned. “What?”
Etzel raised a hand. More messages appeared:
[Meaningful Combat Victory Confirmed.]
[Threat Disparity Evaluated.]
[Adaptive Human Opponent Evaluated.]
[Live Neutralization Difficulty Evaluated.]
Then: [Active Bounty Threat Modifier Applied.]
Etzel stared. “That’s new.”
He waited. One more line appeared: [Limited Necromancer Reward Evaluation...]
Etzel’s attention sharpened. Rhel was human. A criminal. A violent one. But the System—
[No Eligible Necromancer Reward.]
Etzel slowly nodded. No chest. No summon. No reward choices. Nothing.
DK watched him. “You expected something?”
“I was checking.”
“Why?”
Etzel looked at the fading message. “Because he was wanted.”
“And?”
Etzel understood before DK finished asking. Wanted was law. Necromancer eligibility was something else. The System had rewarded the victory, not judged the man’s morality.
Before Etzel could think further—warmth hit him. Hard.
He inhaled sharply. The progression was heavier than the Mirrorjaws. Much heavier.
The System flashed: [Level Increased.]
Etzel froze. “No.”
Another line: [Level 7 Reached.]
He stared, then stared harder. “Seven?”
DK looked at him. “Yes.”
“I was Six this morning.”
“Yes.”
“That was fast.”
“The fight was not easy.”
Etzel looked back toward the direction of the clearing. Rhel had been one Level higher, a trained Hunter, adaptive, ability user—and Etzel had captured him alive, not killed him. The System had counted all of it, the bounty modifier too. But no Necromancer reward. Two different systems. Two different judgments. That distinction mattered.
They resumed walking. After several minutes, DK spoke: “You could have killed him.”
Etzel looked ahead. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Etzel thought about it. The knife. The Borrowed Tomorrow bursts. The moment Rhel had collapsed. The spearpoint at his throat.
“Stopping him was necessary.”
DK waited.
“Killing him wasn’t.”
DK said nothing. Etzel glanced at him. “Disagree?”
“No.”
“Agree?”
DK looked forward. “I asked.”
Etzel smiled faintly. “Very evasive.”
They walked another few steps. Then DK said: “He treated tomorrow as though he would never need to live in it.”
Etzel looked at him. That sentence felt different—older, heavier.
“That sounded like a memory.”
DK’s expression changed slightly. “Perhaps.”
Etzel waited. Nothing else came. No name. No battlefield. No sudden fragment. Good. Some doors could remain closed until they had a reason to open.
Etzel opened his System one last time: Level 7.
He smiled, then scrolled back through the combat record:
[Hostile Hunter Neutralized.]
[Active Bounty Threat Modifier Applied.]
[Limited Necromancer Reward: None.]
He studied the final line. Rhel had been wanted, dangerous, violent. The System had given Etzel progression for defeating him, but it had not given Etzel permission to hate him, had not declared him spiritually corrupt, had not offered a chest because human law called him guilty.
Etzel dismissed the screen.
The System had rewarded him for winning. It had not told him whether he had been right.
Apparently—that part was still his job.