The hunters circled, their glowing eyes narrowing as Kieran held his ground. The shift in his stance hadn't gone unnoticed.
They had been chasing prey.
Now, they were facing a predator.
A low, guttural command rumbled from the largest of them. Instantly, the pack spread out, their movements precise. Testing him.
Kieran didn't wait.
He surged forward, blade slashing through the darkness. His target recoiled, but he didn't stop—he followed through with a brutal kick, shattering its balance.
The moment it staggered, he finished it.
A clean strike. Efficient.
Just like Elias.
The pack hesitated. Kieran could feel it—their confusion, their recalculating tactics.
And then—they adapted.
Two moved in from the sides, while a third lunged from above. A perfectly timed trap.
Knew it.
Kieran spun low, ducking the aerial attack while slamming his blade upward. Blood sprayed as the ambusher collapsed. But the other two were already closing in.
Before he could react, Elias was there.
A single flick of his wrist—two heads hit the ground.
Elias didn't even look at Kieran. "Took you long enough."
Kieran exhaled sharply, but there was no time to argue. The remaining hunters snarled, realizing their pack was falling apart.
"Finish this," Elias said, stepping back. "Or they'll just come back stronger."
Kieran didn't hesitate.
His body burned. His lungs ached. But he had learned one thing tonight—
Predators didn't stop until the hunt was over.
He charged.