Kael stepped out of Lira’s office, the soft hum of technology fading behind him as he crossed the polished executive wing of Ashport Disposal & Recovery’s headquarters. The glass-and-steel tower loomed over Luminaris Ward, its rune-lit facade pulsing in sync with the city’s leyline grid. Afternoon light glinted off mirrored windows, but Kael’s mind was elsewhere.
“Keep your night open, Lira,” he called over his shoulder, voice rough with Brinewatch grit. “Got somethin’ planned for your awakenin’. Wanna be there for it.”
Her laugh chased him down the hallway, full of warmth and promise. Their twin AGE nominations still buzzed in his chest, but the glow of celebration dimmed beneath heavier thoughts: Theron Vex’s sabotage. His inner world’s failing equilibrium. And it needed fuel. Live fuel.
By 1 PM, Kael was in the outer districts, a mana cab humming beneath him as it wove through traffic and grime. The buildings here were squat and brutish, remnants of Ashport’s industrial rise. Outer SW-5, Portland, smelled like Brinewatch—salt air, rusted metal, and beast blood thick on the wind. In fact, only a wall separated the two.
Toravex’s warehouse was a concrete block crusted in volcanic grit. Beast carcasses hung from iron chains, glistening under fluorescent tube lights. Workers moved with practiced indifference, boots slapping against slick, blood-washed floors.
Inside, the warehouse was a maze of crates and cooling runes, though it was the cold season, it rarely broke feezing during the day in Ashport due to its location. The floor was slick with blood and ice sludge.
Kael found the owner, a grizzled woman named Vara, barking orders at workers hauling beast carcasses. Her shoulders were broad, her arms streaked with dried gore, and her voice was like steel wrapped in gravel.
Her eyes narrowed as he approached. “Kael Voren. Heard you’re a big shot now. What you doin' here?”
“Live beasts,” Kael said, cutting to it. “High-ranking. Need ’em for a project.”
Vara snorted and wiped her hands on a stained rag. “We don’t do live. We hunt. We kill. We deliver. No pens. No chains. No permits.”
Kael opened his mouth to ask them to catch some alive specifically for him, but was cut off.
"Before you try to ask for a special favor. Our trainin' is for killin', not capture. We don't even have facilities to hold ‘em or ship ‘em alive anyways. Your money won't change anythin'. It's too much hassle. Unless you want to pay for new trainin' and facilities, but it'll still be at least another half orbit before you get any results.”
Kael crossed his arms. “Why not raise ‘em? I’ve read enough to know beast awakenings ain’t random like humans. Bloodlines matter.”
Vara’s laugh was sharp. “Half-right, kid. Strong bloodlines—descendants of S-rank Beast Lords, SS-rank Beast Kings, or SSS-rank Beast Emperors—those awaken high-rank talents, sure. Predictable, even. Clans or species form from ‘em, like stormfang wolves or emberdrake lizards. But most beasts? No bloodline. Most never awaken a talent. Random anomalies pop up now and then, just as random as human. Worse even, because the likelihood of something good is leagues worse than us. Weak bloodlines, from low-rank divine beasts, awaken related talents, but they’re low rank."
Kael frowned. “But the high-bloodline ones... predictable, right? Valuable.”
“High-rank ones? Sure,” Vara said. “But they're also rare and illegal. Dravaran law says any beast with a known divine bloodline gets reported or destroyed. Too risky. You think a Beast King cares about walls? One cub with a little too much granddaddy in his bones, and suddenly we’re rebuilding Ashport from rubble. So Elandor's lot hunted or caged most of 'em millennia ago. It's why we're able to have cities and countries like Ashport and the Dravaran Federation. Before Elandor, those bloodlines ran the show. Humans ran about scattered and avoiding powerful beast territories like any other animal.”
“Then where do they breed 'em?” Kael asked.
“Solara,” Vara spat the name like a curse. “Only place with enough S- and SS-rank freaks to manage it. They've got bloodlines, breeding programs, whole sanctuaries. But here?” She swept her arm across the warehouse. “We hunt the wilds. Track migrations of the weak to find and ambush the strong. It’s messy, but safer than raising your own ticking time-bomb.”
Kael nodded slowly. Solara was too far, and time too short. “Alright then. Let me join your next hunt. I’ll pay double for anything alive—long as it’s breathing and dangerous.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Double’s steep.”
“I’m serious.”
Vara studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp enough to peel skin. Then she gave a slow nod. “Next hunt’s tomorrow. But you’re green. Can’t have you blunderin’ and gettin’ my hunters killed. We train the day after hunts while our mistakes are still fresh in our heads. Next trainin' is the day after—rotation sixteen, afternoon. You show up here for prep. No ego. No hero moves. You’ll train with my crew, learn to move quiet, and stay alive. The actual hunt’s two days after that, on the eighteenth.”
Kael extended a hand. “Deal.”
Her grip crushed down like iron. “Don’t screw this up, Voren. My people come first. You flinch, you lag, you bleed on the wrong thing—we leave you behind.”
Kael stepped back into the sulfur-bitten air, blood and cold clinging to his clothes. It didn’t matter. His world needed this. Beasts meant Chakra. Chakra meant... a pet dragon.
Lira comes first, he reminded himself.
And now that the hunt was scheduled, he could focus on tomorrow—and on her awakening.
