Morning rolled in sharp and salt-heavy, the ocean wind cutting against the cliffs hard enough to rattle the barracks windows.

Lucen sat at the long mess table, boots propped casually on the bench opposite him, a plate of half-eaten bread and salted fish in front of him.

He wasn't eating so much as watching. The room was alive with hunters coming and going, loud voices mixing with the clatter of armor and weapons.

Most of them avoided his end of the table.

'Typical,' he thought, chewing idly. 'You beat their golden girl once and suddenly you're radioactive.'

The first one to break the silence was a broad man who looked like he'd been carved from the same stone as the island cliffs. His armor was thick plates strapped across his chest, runes etched into each one, and his shield was propped against the table like another person.

He sat down without asking, plate piled with twice Lucen's food. "You hit harder than you look." His voice was low, rumbling, like boulders grinding together.

Lucen tilted his head. "Compliment or warning?"

The man smirked faintly, eyes like dark granite. "Both. Name's Garrik. Tank, obviously." He tapped the shield.

Lucen nodded once, lazy. "Lucen. Spellcraft sovereign, apparently. At least that's the rumor."

Before Garrik could answer, another slid into the seat across from Lucen. A wiry figure with short-cropped hair, goggles resting on her forehead, and a bow strapped diagonally across her back. She smelled faintly of oils and ash, like someone who never left the range.

She grinned sharp. "And I'm Rynn. If you stand still, I'll shoot around you. Probably."

Lucen arched a brow. "'Probably' doesn't exactly scream confidence."

"Confidence is for idiots," she said, already snatching a strip of his fish without asking. "Accuracy is what matters."

Lucen smirked. 'I like her already.'

The next voice came from above. Literally.

"Don't bother with him," a younger man said from the rafters, perched like he weighed nothing at all. His cloak hung loose, blending into the shadows even in daylight. "He's either trouble or bait. Maybe both."

Lucen didn't even look up. "And you are?"

The figure dropped lightly to the floor, boots barely making a sound. His eyes were pale gray, too sharp for his age. "Kale. Scout."

"Ah," Lucen said, leaning back, "the professional eavesdropper."

Kale didn't rise to it. Just shrugged and slid into a chair farther down the table, still watching.

Garrik rumbled a laugh. "You'll get used to him. He sees everything before it happens. Doesn't mean he's wrong."

Rynn leaned closer to Lucen, elbow on the table. "So. The rumors are true, huh? You tapped corruption in the duel?"

The table went quiet for a beat too long. Garrik's chewing slowed. Kale's gaze sharpened.

Lucen chewed a piece of bread deliberately, swallowed, and shrugged. "Rumors are boring. Believe what you want."

The mood eased a fraction. Hunters at the far tables still stole glances his way, whispers cutting through the clatter. Some wary. Some impressed. Some both.

Selindra's voice cut through the room from the doorway, crisp as always. "Briefing in ten. Bring your gear."

Every hunter straightened, scraping benches back. Garrik grabbed his shield, Rynn her bow, Kale his cloak. The mess hall shifted into motion.

Lucen stayed seated until the last possible moment, then stretched to his feet.

'Vacation arc, huh?' He smirked faintly to himself. 'Feels more like I just joined a circus. Tanks, archers, scouts… Guess all that's missing is the clown.'

He paused, grinned faintly wider.

'Oh. Right. That's me.'

The briefing hall smelled faintly of iron and salt, the sea pressing in from every wall. A curved table of blackwood dominated the center, its surface etched with faint glowing sigils that pulsed in rhythm with the island's wards.

Hunters filed in and took their seats. Garrik leaned his shield against the wall behind him. Rynn propped her bow under the table, still chewing dried fruit. Kale just disappeared into a shadowed corner, as if sitting in a normal chair offended him.

Lucen slouched near the end, arms folded. His eyes flicked to Selindra, who stood at the head of the table with her arms behind her back. Varik was a step behind her, silent as always. And then there was Elira, no, not in person. Her projection shimmered faintly above the table, cold and precise even through light.

"Hunters," her voice carried, crisp, controlled, "you've been stationed here for two reasons. One, containment. Two, evaluation."

Lucen tilted his head, lips quirking. "'Evaluation' sounds like someone's planning to grade us."

Selindra ignored him. "The anomalies are spreading. Not just rifts. Not just drifts. Hunters exposed to abyssal field signatures are showing… changes. Mutations."

The table was silent. No one fidgeted. Even Garrik's usual calm shifted into something heavier.

Elira's projection continued: "Each of you here carries such an anomaly. You've been pulled from your sectors for observation and controlled deployment. This island is your cage and your test ground."

Rynn spat her fruit pit into a napkin. "So we're lab rats. Great."

Kale's voice came sharp from the corner. "Better lab rats than corpses."

Lucen tapped a knuckle against the table. "And what's mine?" His smirk was lazy, but his eyes were sharp. "Or do we all get to play guess-the-side-effect?"

Selindra's eyes flicked toward him, jaw tight. "Yours is already documented."

Varik broke the silence for the first time, his voice low, even. "Corruption resonance. Amplifies spell output beyond survivable thresholds. You burn too far, you crash. Or worse."

Lucen smiled faintly. "That's flattering. Makes me sound dangerous."

Selindra's gaze cut him. "It makes you unstable."

The room shifted, attention turning. Elira's projection didn't waver.

"Each of you will speak," she said. "State your anomaly for the record."

One by one, the hunters complied.

Garrik set his massive hands on the table. "Mine's density shift. Armor, weapons, body, when the anomaly spikes, it all turns heavy. Too heavy. My strikes can collapse stone, but I move like I'm buried under mountains."

Rynn leaned back, crossing her arms. "Vision bleed. My eyes pick up abyssal signatures now. Tracks, weaknesses, spells about to break. Useful, but sometimes it doesn't stop. I see things that aren't there."

Kale's voice came flat, detached. "Phantom slip. Sometimes I'm in two places at once. Sometimes neither. My anomaly drags me through walls without asking. Can't control it yet."

The table went quiet.

Elira's projection flickered, obsidian eyes sweeping across them all. "You will train. You will adapt. You will either control these anomalies, or they will consume you. That is the purpose of this island. Dismissed."

The projection snapped out, leaving only the low hum of the wards.

Rynn exhaled, half a laugh, half a curse. "Control or die. Love the optimism."

Lucen pushed back his chair, standing with a lazy stretch. His grin was faint, his eyes sharper than ever.

'An island full of hunters who are ticking time bombs. And they thought putting me in the middle of it was smart?'

He glanced at Varik, who met his gaze with unreadable steel.

Lucen smirked faintly.

'…Maybe it was.'

The anomaly grounds weren't natural.

Lucen felt it the second the stone gate clanged shut behind them. The air was too thick, mana crawling under his skin like static, heavy with the same wrong flavor he'd tasted in the rift during the break. The ground itself pulsed faintly, veins of black-and-red energy snaking through the cracked arena floor.

A domed ward shimmered overhead, sealing the field.

Selindra stood at the control platform above, arms folded, voice cutting sharp through the speaker runes. "Test parameters: live combat. The field has been primed to react to your anomalies. Don't hold back."

Garrik grunted, adjusting his shield straps. "She makes it sound like this is optional."

Rynn flexed her fingers, bow already in hand. "Optional usually means you die slower."

Kale didn't speak. He was already half a blur at the arena's edge, cloak blending into the warped stone.

Lucen rolled his shoulders, mana thrumming under his skin. His system interface blinked into view, clean and bright against the warped field.

[Level: 55]

[Mana Pool: 520/520]

[Spells Available: Shockweave Bolt, Ignition Burst, Soundlash, Piercing Flare, Crater Bloom, Frost Spire, Cataclysm Vector, Abyssflare Lance, Nullbind Grasp, Riftstep]

[Corruption Load: 12%]

'Still too high,' he thought, smirking faintly. 'But manageable. For now.'

The ground split.

A surge of twisted mana erupted in the arena's center, coalescing into shapes. Not creatures, not exactly, reflections of hunters themselves, warped, faceless, dripping with abyssal energy. Each one stood in mockery: four shadows, one for each anomaly bearer.

Selindra's voice cut again. "Targets adapt to your anomaly signatures. Defeat them or be consumed. Begin."

The shadows moved.

Garrik's reflection lunged first, shield glowing black with crushing weight. The ground shook under its steps. Garrik braced, shield slamming forward with a roar that cracked the air. The impact rang like thunder, stone splintering beneath them both.

Rynn's copy vaulted to a perch of warped stone, bow already drawn. Arrows of burning shadow rained down, forcing her to dive into a roll. She loosed two shafts in return, both splitting the air sharp, one punching through the copy's arm. "Guess I really am that good," she muttered, teeth bared.

Kale's phantom double flickered in and out of sight, phasing through stone like mist. The real Kale vanished into the shadows in response, their movements weaving together until it was impossible to tell which was real.

Lucen's turn.

His shadow stepped forward, abyssal lines burning across its chest, corruption bleeding from its form like smoke. Its mana flared, his mana.

Lucen smiled thin, raising his hand.

[Shockweave Bolt.]

Blue arcs spat out, snapping across the arena in jagged forks. The shadow raised its own hand, a mirror-image blast answering. The two bolts collided midair in a spray of sparks, the impact rattling Lucen's bones.

'Figures. It's me versus me. Again.'

The shadow surged forward, glyphs sparking across its arm, forming a jagged spear of dark fire.

Lucen's grin widened.

[Abyssflare Lance.]

The air screamed as his spear of annihilation ignited, colliding with its twin. The arena shook, light and shadow smashing together in a detonation that tore half the floor into smoking glass.

Garrik shouted over the roar, shield raised. "Next time, warn us before you—"

Lucen laughed, stepping out of the smoke, eyes sharp, grin faint. "Where's the fun in that?"

The shadow was still there. Still smiling his smile. Still burning with his corruption.

Lucen's hand tightened, mana sparking around his fingers.

'Guess this might actually be interesting.'

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