---
Kaito woke to the sound of something cracking.
For a blissful moment, he thought it was just the usual morning frost. Then his bedroll shattered around him in a spray of ice shards.
"Up," said a voice colder than the air.
Yuriko Yukibana stood over him, her breath not fogging in the predawn chill, her pale eyes glinting like chips of glacier ice. Around them, the camp stirred—boots crunching snow, muttered curses, the clank of weapons being checked.
Kaito sighed, brushing ice from his hair. "Could've just kicked me. A kick would've been warmer."
"You'd have slept through it." Her glacial eyes flicked to his sword, still sheathed beside him. "If you plan to die, do it quietly. I dislike unnecessary noise."
Fair point.
As she walked away, Kaito noticed two things: first, the ice shards had formed perfect hexagons where they'd pierced his bedding. Second, his fingers were already moving toward his weapon—not in panic, but in the smooth, calculated motion.
---
Breakfast was a study in dysfunction:
Dain Angelblood knelt in the snow, his golden hair catching the weak morning light as he chanted over strips of jerky. The meat glowed with a soft radiance that made Kaito's teeth ache. He took a bite anyway. It tasted like church pews and forgotten promises.
Across the fire, Kael Demonfang smirked and set his own ration ablaze with black flames. The jerky twisted as it cooked, veins of crimson pulsing beneath charred flesh. Jiro, ever the opportunist, snatched a piece and promptly retched.
"Tastes like a slaughterhouse pissed in my mouth!" the brute roared, wiping his tongue on his sleeve.
Kael's grin widened. "That's the taste of vengeance, my friend. Acquire it."
Meanwhile, Mira cradled her totem like a dying bird. The wooden carvings shifted under her fingers, rearranging themselves into new patterns as the wind whispered secrets only she could hear. Pine needles trembled at her feet despite the still air.
Jiro sharpened his greatsword with a rock. The blade was already razor-edged. He did it anyway.
Yuriko stood apart, sculpting a dagger from pure frost. Each movement was precise, surgical—until she clenched her fist and reduced it to powder. The ice dust didn't melt. It hung in the air like suspended betrayal. She was practicing control.
Kaito watched them all, then yawned and went back to sharpening his sword—The steel sang as he drew it across his blade in one long, perfect stroke.
---
General Tetsu's orders had been simple: "Hunt normal and elite ranks. Stay in your sectors. Don't die."
The Fractured Six's interpretation was less so.
Dain spread a map across a frost-rimed log. "We advance here, in the Angels light. A righteous frontal—"
"Or," Kael interrupted, tracing a clawed finger along a shadowed ravine "we let the darkness do the work for us. We ambush from the shadows. Let them bleed before they see us."
Yuriko didn't look up from sharpening her dagger. "I'll take the northeast ridge alone."
Jiro cracked his knuckles loud enough to startle a raven from its perch. "I'll punch whatever's left!"
Mira squeaked when all eyes turned to her. "I-I can ask the wind to scout...?"
Kaito massaged his temples.
This was going to be a long hunt.
---
Kaito watched the chaos unfold with the weary resignation of a man who'd seen this play before. He waited until the argument peaked. Dain and Kael were nose-to-nose, holy and demonic energies crackling between them, Yuriko turning to leave, before flicking a pebble at the map's center.
It landed dead center on their assigned sector.
"Here's the plan," he said, his voice flat. "Yuriko takes the high ground. Mira scouts with her elementals. Dain and Kael—shut up and follow my signals. Jiro. You're bait."
Silence.
Jiro blinked. "I'm what?"
"Bait. You're loud, you're obvious, and you hit hard enough to piss off anything in a mile radius." Kaito stood, sheathing his sword. "We funnel elites toward Yuriko. Normals get cleaned up by the holy/demonic circus. Questions?"
Yuriko studied him for a long moment. Then, to everyone's shock, she nodded.
His signals were too precise for someone who 'just napped.' Yuriko noticed. Said nothing.
---
The Drakthar Woods didn't welcome them. It swallowed them whole.
Ancient pines groaned under armor of ice. The scent of pine needles twisted into something darker—musk and wet fur and the copper tang of old violence. Kaito's breath fogged thickly now, each exhale a temporary veil between him and whatever watched from the shadows.
Mira's whisper was barely audible: "The wind says... they're watching us."
A branch snapped. Then another. Then—nothing.
From the darkness came laughter. Not the mindless chittering of beasts, but something knowing. Something that took delight.
Kaito's fingers found his sword's hilt. The steel was warm against his palm.
Showtime.
---
End Chapter 10