Etzel woke to three messages. That was rarely a good sign.
He stared at the ceiling for several seconds before reaching for his communicator. The first was from Maerin:
Maerin: Rhel Vasken was taken into custody.
Etzel sat up. His first thought was not the bounty, nor the fight, nor even Borrowed Tomorrow. He typed immediately:
Etzel: The woman?
The answer came less than a minute later:
Maerin: Safe. Treated. Statement taken. No serious injuries.
Etzel exhaled. Only then did he notice Sivenne had joined the conversation:
Sivenne: Also, congratulations.
Etzel narrowed his eyes. That sounded dangerous.
Etzel: For?
An image appeared with official formatting:
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [WANTED HUNTER — RHEL VASKEN] │
│ STATUS: CAPTURED │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Beneath it was a bounty figure. Etzel stared, then stared harder. “Oh.”
DK, seated near the window, looked over. “What?”
Etzel turned the screen toward him. “Apparently morality has a price.”
DK examined the number. “That is not morality.”
“I know. I was trying to make the moment poetic.”
“It failed.”
Etzel sighed. Then Maerin sent another message:
Maerin: You can’t claim it.
Etzel’s face went blank. He looked at the bounty again, then at Maerin’s message, then back at the bounty. “No.”
DK waited. Etzel typed:
Etzel: Explain.
Maerin: Claim requires verified identification. Hunter Registry identification or authorized civilian claimant record.
Etzel slowly lowered the communicator. “I am beginning to take registration personally.”
DK looked back toward the window. “You chose not to register.”
“That does not mean the consequences are allowed to inconvenience me.”
“It does.”
“Your perspective lacks compassion.”
The bounty did not simply disappear. That was the good news. The less good news was that none of it was becoming Etzel’s money.
Maerin checked the process. Part of the case qualified for victim compensation, and additional support could be issued depending on the woman’s statement, medical evaluation, and the charges added after Rhel’s arrest.
Etzel read the explanation:
Etzel: Can she get some of it?
A pause:
Maerin: Not the bounty itself. But she qualifies for compensation.
Etzel nodded:
Etzel: Good.
Sivenne answered immediately:
Sivenne: You said that suspiciously fast.
Etzel: I legally cannot touch the money. This is generosity under duress.
Tessa appeared:
Tessa: You could just be happy she gets help.
Etzel considered:
Etzel: That sounds emotionally mature.
Sivenne: So not happening?
Etzel: Correct.
He smiled despite himself. Then Maerin sent one more message. This one had no joke attached:
Maerin: There is another issue.
Etzel’s smile disappeared. Of course there was.
Etzel: How bad?
Maerin: Not bad.
Etzel waited:
Etzel: That answer has never helped anyone.
Maerin: She gave your name in her statement.
Etzel stopped. Slowly, he looked toward DK.
DK looked back. “You gave it to her.”
“I was being human.”
“Consequences.”
Etzel pointed at him. “I preferred you before you learned that word.”
DK’s expression remained unchanged. Etzel returned to the communicator:
Etzel: My full name?
Maerin: No.
That helped. A little.
Maerin: Just Etzel. Unregistered spear user. Young male. Traveling with a silver-armored man called DK.
Etzel closed his eyes. “That sounds significantly worse written down.”
DK said: “It is accurate.”
“That is the problem.”
Maerin continued:
Maerin: No Registry match. No surname. No verified image attached to the public case file.
Etzel opened his eyes. “So I’m officially a rumor.”
DK considered. “Possibly.”
“I can live with that.”
For now. Somewhere in the Hunter system, there was now a report about an unidentified fighter named Etzel who had helped capture a wanted Hunter. That could become a problem later, or a very funny conversation. Possibly both.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Borrowed Tomorrow stayed in Etzel’s thoughts longer than Rhel did. That bothered him. Not because he cared about Rhel, but because the ability had been extraordinary.
Etzel opened the combat record again:
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [SKILL RECORD: RECORDED DATA] │
│ Title: Borrowed Tomorrow │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
He could not see Rhel’s private mechanics—only what he had observed. Speed. Technique. Strength. Durability. Different possible versions of a future self, pulled temporarily into the present. And then the debt.
Etzel looked at DK. “How strong could that ability become?”
“I don’t know.”
“Useful.”
“It is honest.”
Etzel leaned back. At F Rank, Rhel had already been able to temporarily become a better fighter than he actually was—not in one fixed way, but several.
The problem had not been the ability. The problem had been Rhel. He had used tomorrow as a weapon against today. No patience, no control, no reserve. Whenever the fight turned against him, he borrowed more. Then more. Then too much.
Etzel looked at his own status: Limited Necromancer. An ability many people had apparently failed with. Not because it had no potential—because decisions mattered. Choices mattered. Understanding mattered.
He frowned slightly. “A great ability can still have a terrible user.”
DK looked at him. “Yes.”
“And a terrible-looking ability…” Etzel smiled. “…can have me.”
DK stared. Etzel waited.
“You were supposed to agree.”
“No.”
“Cruel.”
But the thought remained. The ability did not decide everything. The user mattered. Maybe more than people wanted to admit.
Etzel opened the Witness record next:
SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONEventFlaw WitnessedStatusRecognition ConfirmedDataDebt-Followed Performance Collapse
He read the words again. Yesterday, he had thought he understood Borrowed Tomorrow. Now? Not exactly. He understood what Rhel had done with it. That was different.
Etzel sat straighter. Rhel’s collapse after borrowing speed might not be inevitable for every user. A more disciplined Hunter might borrow less, or train specifically for the debt, or alternate between different future traits, or learn to spread the burden.
Etzel did not know. And that was the point.
He had not discovered the flaw of Borrowed Tomorrow. He had discovered a flaw in Rhel Vasken’s use of Borrowed Tomorrow.
Etzel went quiet. DK noticed. “What?”
“I was too broad.”
“With what?”
“Witness.”
Etzel turned the record toward him, though DK could not see the private System text itself. “I thought I understood the ability.”
“You understood the man.”
“Yes.”
That felt more accurate. Etzel nodded slowly. “A correct answer can still be too large.”
DK said nothing. Etzel continued thinking. Recognition did not give universal truths just because Etzel wanted them. Context mattered. User mattered. Structure mattered. The same ability in another person could produce an entirely different exploitable flaw.
That was—dangerous. Also exciting.
Etzel smiled. DK looked at him. “You have the expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one before you do something questionable.”
Etzel looked offended. “I am having an intellectual breakthrough.”
“That has not prevented the others.”
“Unfair.”
By midday, another message arrived from Maerin. This time there was no group chatter, just an official map capture:
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [SECTOR 14 — CLOSED] │
│ STATUS: Threat Investigation Active │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Etzel’s posture changed. Yesterday: temporary restriction. Now: closed.
He typed:
Etzel: How many?
Maerin did not ask what he meant:
Maerin: Five.
Etzel stared. Two had been known yesterday. Now five.
Etzel: Same species?
Maerin: No.
That was worse.
Maerin: Five different creatures.
Etzel read the next lines: no feeding, no harvested materials, cores untouched where present, minimal combat disturbance, one or very few lethal wounds.
Etzel opened the map. Five markers scattered across Sector 14. At first, nothing. Then—he leaned closer. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Not random. Almost a line.
Etzel enlarged the map. “No.”
DK looked over. Etzel rotated the device. “Look.”
DK studied it. The death locations formed a rough path across the sector: southwest to northeast.
Etzel contacted Maerin:
Etzel: It isn’t hunting.
Maerin: We know.
Etzel: No.
He traced the route:
Etzel: I mean literally. The bodies aren’t targets. They’re obstacles.
DK spoke quietly: “It did not choose the fights.”
Etzel looked at him, then finished the thought: “The fights chose it.”
That changed everything. A predator moved because prey moved. This thing—whatever it was—was traveling. And creatures that interfered with that movement died. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Etzel extended the line northeast. “What’s out there?”
Maerin answered after a delay:
Maerin: Several things. Roads. Minor settlements. Two approved hunting regions. An abandoned industrial zone. And farther northeast—a dungeon.
Etzel looked at DK. The knight’s expression had already changed.
Etzel typed:
Etzel: Dungeon?
Maerin: Low-rank monitored site.
Etzel: Same type as ours?
Maerin: No.
DK looked at the route. “The line is not exact.”
“I know.”
“But close.”
“Yes.”
Etzel frowned. Could this be connected to the influence? The Custodian? The black traces? The moving source?
His mind tried to connect everything. DK interrupted: “Do not.”
Etzel looked at him. “Do not what?”
“Force unrelated things into one answer.”
Etzel stared, then sighed. “I hate when everyone around me becomes sensible.”
DK returned his attention to the map. There was no proof. That mattered. Sector 14 could be part of the same anomaly, or something completely different. Etzel did not know, so he did not pretend to. Witness would have approved. Probably. It did not say anything. Naturally.
“How far is the dungeon?” Etzel typed.
Maerin responded instantly:
Maerin: No.
Etzel frowned:
Etzel: That was a geographical question.
Sivenne appeared:
Sivenne: Absolutely not.
Then Tessa:
Tessa: Etzel.
Etzel stared at the screen:
Etzel: I asked how far it is.
Maerin: No.
Etzel looked at DK. “They’re becoming unreasonable.”
“No.”
“Of course you support them.”
DK said nothing.
The truth was—Etzel was not planning to go. That was perhaps the most irritating part. He wanted the information. That was all. Mostly.
Level Seven was progress. It was not permission to become stupid again.
Etzel typed:
Etzel: Fine.
Three dots appeared. Then Sivenne:
Sivenne: That was suspiciously easy.
Etzel: Personal growth.
Maerin: We’ll see.
Etzel put the communicator away. “Trust.”
DK looked at him. “Yes.”
“I meant their lack of it.”
“I did not.”
Etzel frowned.
They trained that afternoon. Not hard; DK insisted Etzel’s body had accumulated enough damage recently. Etzel accused him of becoming responsible. DK ignored him.
Level Seven felt different. Not dramatically—that mattered. Etzel’s first step was a little faster, his recovery slightly cleaner, and his body responded to the spear with less hesitation. He could maintain the same movement pattern longer before fatigue disturbed his form. Small things. Real things.
Etzel attacked. DK turned the spear aside. Etzel recovered faster, thrust again. DK moved. Etzel changed angle, better.
DK caught the shaft, pulled, and Etzel hit the ground. He stared upward. “I gained a Level.”
DK stood over him. “I noticed.”
“You could react accordingly.”
“I did.”
Etzel frowned. “That answer is hateful.”
DK extended his hand. Etzel took it, back up.
Again. This time Etzel lasted longer. Not long—longer. That counted.
Afterward, Etzel sat in the grass breathing hard. DK remained standing. Etzel looked at him. “One day.”
“One day what?”
“I’m going to win.”
DK considered. “Perhaps.”
Etzel narrowed his eyes. “That was much more supportive than I expected.”
“You said one day.”
“I dislike the implication.”
The final message arrived near sunset. Maerin. No introduction, just an image—blurry, taken from far away.
Etzel opened it. A figure stood near the edge of a rocky slope. Humanoid. Two legs. Upright. Too distant for details. Something long extended from one arm: weapon, bone, branch? Impossible to tell.
Etzel sat straighter:
Maerin: First confirmed live sighting.
DK moved beside him. Etzel enlarged the image. The figure remained indistinct:
Etzel: Patrol saw it?
Maerin: Yes.
Etzel: What did it do?
A pause:
Maerin: Ignored them.
Etzel frowned. That did not fit the corpses:
Etzel: Then why didn’t they stop it?
This time the answer took longer:
Maerin: They tried.
Etzel’s expression changed. Another message:
Maerin: Three-person patrol. All registered Hunters.
Etzel waited:
Etzel: Dead?
The reply arrived:
Maerin: No.
Etzel stopped. DK’s eyes narrowed:
Etzel: Injured?
Maerin: Minor.
Maerin: It disarmed all three.
Etzel looked at DK. “What?”
The next report summary arrived. The patrol had attempted interception. The figure had reacted: no lethal strikes, no pursuit. Three Hunters disarmed. One knocked down. One thrown clear. One weapon broken. Then the figure had resumed traveling northeast.
Etzel read it twice. “It can choose.”
DK remained silent.
Etzel looked again at the creature corpses: killed. Then the patrol: alive. “It knows the difference.”
A final classification appeared beneath the image:
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [SURVEY RECORD: SPECIMEN CLASSIFIED]│
│ Estimated Classification: UNKNOWN │
│ Observed Intelligence: HIGH │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Etzel studied the distant silhouette. Yesterday, Sector 14 had contained an unknown predator. Now—he wasn’t sure predator was the right word.
Whatever was crossing Sector 14 was not killing everything it met. It was choosing.
And somehow—that was worse.