The Devourer's Dominion

Aetheron moved first.

The moment his body vanished from sight, the battlefield erupted.

His dagger slashed through empty air—no resistance. The Hunter had already shifted, their speed just as sharp as his.

Fast.

But Aetheron wasn't slow either.

He twisted mid-air, catching the movement from his peripheral vision. A second blade came from the right—silent, precise. He raised his own, deflecting the strike with a metallic screech. Sparks flashed between them as the force sent a ripple through his arm.

But the third Hunter was already moving.

Aetheron's eyes flicked to his left.

Too late.

A sudden impact slammed into his ribs, a knee driving deep into his side. He gritted his teeth, his body skidding back as the force sent cracks through the ground beneath him.

But he didn't fall.

Didn't stagger.

He exhaled, steadying himself as the dust settled. His grip on the dagger tightened.

The three Hunters stood before him, unmoving. Their masks concealed their faces, but Aetheron could feel their gaze. Calculating. Studying him.

They weren't attacking wildly.

They were reading him.

Testing him.

And that was a problem.

Aetheron rolled his shoulders, his muscles tensing. He could already tell—these weren't just warriors.

They were assassins.

And they weren't fighting to kill.

They were fighting to capture.

His gaze darkened.

That meant he had to end this fast.

Without warning, he surged forward.

His body blurred, closing the distance in an instant. The closest Hunter reacted, raising their blade—too slow. Aetheron's foot slammed into their side, launching them backward with a sharp crack.

He didn't stop.

His dagger spun in his grip as he twisted, pivoting toward the second Hunter. Their blade came down—clean, controlled. Aetheron ducked low, feeling the cold edge barely graze his hair.

Then, with a flick of his wrist—

Aetheron's dagger found flesh.

The Hunter flinched, their shoulder jerking as the tip of his blade tore through fabric and skin. Blood splattered, but they didn't cry out.

No hesitation. No pain.

Aetheron clicked his tongue.

They really were trained killers.

The third Hunter didn't waste time. They lunged, aiming straight for his blind spot.

Aetheron saw it coming.

His foot slammed into the ground, a pulse of energy surging beneath him. In a flash, he vanished—reappearing just behind them.

Before the Hunter could react, his hand shot out, fingers curling around their mask.

Then—

Crack.

Aetheron slammed them into the ground.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the earth, dust and debris kicking up as the Hunter's body caved into the stone. Aetheron didn't let go, his grip firm as he pressed them down.

For the first time, the air shifted.

The remaining two Hunters hesitated.

And in that moment, Aetheron knew.

They weren't invincible.

He exhaled, letting his weight settle over the fallen Hunter. His voice came low.

"I don't like being hunted."

Silence.

Then—

A movement.

Aetheron's instincts screamed.

He barely turned in time before something sharp grazed his cheek—a dagger, inches away from his eye. The second Hunter had moved without a sound, faster than before.

No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Aetheron yanked back just in time, flipping off the downed Hunter as the blade sliced through where his throat had been seconds ago.

They're getting serious now.

The Hunter he had struck earlier rolled their injured shoulder, blood dripping down their arm. But their stance hadn't wavered.

Aetheron exhaled.

This wasn't going to be easy.

But then—

Something changed.

A shift in the air. A pressure heavier than before.

The shadows around them twisted.

Then, from the darkness—

Another figure emerged.

Aetheron stilled.

This one was different.

Their presence swallowed the space around them, the weight of their existence pressing down like an invisible force. Their armor was darker than the others, their mask etched with crimson markings.

The moment they stepped forward, the three Hunters backed away.

No words. No signals.

Just silent submission.

Aetheron's grip on his dagger tightened.

This wasn't just a Hunter.

This was something worse.

The figure tilted their head slightly, their voice smooth.

"You're more troublesome than expected."

Aetheron didn't answer.

The figure took another step. "I assume you understand by now. You are not being asked to come with us."

Aetheron's jaw tensed.

He already knew that.

The figure exhaled, as if disappointed. "Then let's not waste time."

Aetheron barely saw it.

The movement.

The instant shift in space.

One second, the figure stood before him.

The next—

They were behind him.

Cold steel pressed against his neck.

Aetheron's entire body locked.

The dagger in his hand twitched. He could move. Counter. Strike back.

But—

His instincts screamed danger.

The difference in skill was clear.

The other Hunters had been testing him. But this one?

This one wasn't playing games.

Aetheron's fingers twitched.

Then—

The blade at his neck pressed slightly.

A warning.

Aetheron exhaled through his nose. He wasn't afraid. But he wasn't reckless either.

Not yet.

The figure's voice was calm. "Good."

Then, just as fast as they had moved, they stepped back.

Aetheron turned, his gaze cold.

The figure studied him for a moment longer.

Then, they spoke.

"The Sovereign is waiting."

Aetheron's eyes narrowed.

Then, without another word, the figure turned—walking away. The three Hunters followed, vanishing into the darkness.

Aetheron stood still.

His pulse was steady. His breath even.

But his mind was racing.

They could have killed him.

They didn't.

Which meant only one thing.

They wanted him alive.

And that…

That was more dangerous than anything else.