Anna floated in the air, suspended as if standing on something invisible. Her white reaper coat flickered wildly against the harsh winds of high altitude, a stark contrast against the deep blue sky. A couple of hundred feet below, the ground stretched out, a tapestry of greens and browns as her hair rustled in the breeze. Her eyes gleamed with focus as she instinctively activated her skill: Perception.

This powerful ability, essential for an archer like herself, sharpened her senses, allowing her to see with clarity what lay beneath her, as if she were only a few feet away.

There, on the ground, she spotted a man with short black hair and striking blue eyes. Clad in simple, commoner clothes typical of the villagers, he captured her attention not just by his appearance, but by his peculiar actions. He was tying vines to a humanoid creature, something monstrous yet strangely fascinating. The vines were affixed to a large blanket, which was oddly laden with shiny steel bars.

"What is that thing?" she wondered, curiosity mingling with caution. The man straightened and pointed toward a distant tree, gesturing for the creature to move. Her brow furrowed as she observed the little humanoid struggle to obey, gritting its teeth in effort as it dragged the heavy burden behind it.

A slight smile curled on the man's lips, pride evident on his face as he watched the creature's toil. "Is he training that thing?" Anna mulled over the bizarre scene. The thought flickered in her mind: it must be his pet. But then another thought echoed, louder than the last: *Who would make a humanoid monster their pet? Is he insane?*

Anna watched as the man placed his hand on his chin, his fingers scratching lightly at the stubble with a faint rasp that carried on the breeze, his eyes fixed blankly into the empty air, distant, as if piercing through some unseen veil or lost in a labyrinth of thoughts.

But she could tell he was honing in on something real, something she couldn't quite discern, the air around him humming with a subtle tension that prickled her skin like static before a storm.

Her gaze drifted to the gaping tear in the grass a few feet from him, a ragged scar in the earth, soil upturned in dark clumps, the scent of fresh dirt and crushed blades wafting up, sharp and earthy, as if a massive force had clawed through.

I wonder what level he is, she thought, a spark of curiosity igniting in her chest, warm and insistent, mingling with the cool rush of wind against her face.

The idea flickered: dropping down to confront him, to probe about the Shadow Hunter, her voice steady but her heart thudding with anticipation. Yet she held back, the risk souring in her gut like unripe fruit, she couldn't expose herself as a Pale Reaper, not yet, the label heavy on her tongue, unspoken.

The man's actions struck her as odd and fascinating, especially with that little green creature at his side. Why on earth would he choose a humanoid monster for a pet? These things were generally more aware, and seeing one willingly with a human was strange. And worse yet, this creature was tiny, almost toddler-sized; it looked like a child in distress. But she reminded herself, it was just a monster after all.

With a sigh, she turned to look ahead at her destination, Aria. *I have to get there,* she thought. If she swooped down to speak with him, it would be clear she was a Pale Reaper. Even if she altered her clothing, the spectacle of someone suddenly dropping from the sky would raise eyebrows. Rumors had begun to spread about the arrival of the Pale Reapers, and everyone was anticipating her presence.

She continued her flight, the wind whipping past with a relentless roar that tugged at her ears and chilled her cheeks, the pale reaper coat rustling against her body like whispering silk.

In a shimmer of faint white light, ethereal and fleeting, like moonlight on water, the coat vanished, replaced by supple leather armor that hugged her frame with a comforting weight, its faint scent of tanned hide mingling with the crisp altitude air.

She no longer wore the long white boots; instead, shorter brown ones encased her feet, sturdy and scuffed, ending mid-calf with a practical grip that flexed as she soared through the air.

Brown pants tucked into them, rough-woven and tight. The silver sword still hung at her waist, a steady anchor amid the change; she reached down to brush her palm against its hilt, feeling the cool, familiar metal under her touch.

This transformation was mere illusion, a skill bestowed during her training with the heroes, a surge of deceptive magic that prickled her skin like static, stirring a deep loathing in her gut, bitter and unresolved, for reasons she buried deep. Yet necessity forced her hand; she had to blend, to hide.

But this illusion-level magic was more than facade, it warped reality in subtle ways, altering non-living things like her garb, though the shift felt both tangible and fleeting, a complex weave that hummed in her veins with elusive power. As the skill strengthened, it could morph small items, but nothing permanent; changes faded after three days at most, unraveling like mist at dawn.

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Anna started to see the village of Lyria up ahead, its clustered rooftops emerging from the horizon like scattered pebbles under the midday sun, the faint hum of distant voices and livestock carrying on the breeze.

She could tell it was a village from the map the vanguard had given her, Lyria's modest outline contrasting with Aria's sprawling form ahead, the town larger and more imposing, its walls rising solid and gray in the distance.

* I'm close,* she thought, a surge of focused determination warming her chest, steadying her breath against the rush of wind.

As she flew, the air whipping through her hair with a sharp, invigorating chill that stung her eyes, she began to descend, angling downward in a smooth slant.

Her boots met the ground with a light thud, the impact jarring up her legs like a soft echo, grass crunching faintly underfoot, releasing an earthy scent of soil and wildflowers that mingled with the faint, smoky tang of the town's hearths drifting from afar.

She looked at the walls of Aria from this distance, their stone surfaces weathered and patched, casting long shadows that cooled the path ahead.

Then she started to walk forward, her brown boots padding steadily on the dirt road, each step kicking up tiny puffs of dust that clung to her pants, the leather armor creaking softly with her movements, a deliberate choice to blend, her heart thudding with cautious restraint.

After all, she didn't want the people to suddenly spot someone soaring in; the sight would ripple through the crowd like a startled wave, alerting everyone that a pale Reaper had arrived.

If there was any slim chance the Shadow Hunter lingered, that whisper of exposure would sharpen his edge, making him vanish like smoke, far harder to track when the hunted knows the hunter's scent is near. But deep down, a cool certainty settled in her gut like settling fog: he had likely fled already, his trail grown cold. Still, precautions tightened her resolve, a prickling vigilance along her skin as she advanced.

She had planned something else, a strategy coiling in her mind like a taut bowstring, sharp and precise, she was 100% sure that if she uncovered what she sought in Aria, it would unravel him.

After walking for a while she stepped closer to the entrance, its arched gateway framed by rough-hewn stone, where two guards stood with spears gripped loosely, their metal tips glinting in the light.

They leaned in conversation, low murmurs reaching her, the air between them thick with the casual scent of earth and grass carried by the faint wind blowing by.

The two guards finally noticed her. One of them, a tall figure with striking features, was taken aback, his eyes widening in surprise.

The other, momentarily stunned, seemed more captivated by her beauty than surprised by her presence.

Her skin appeared almost flawless, smooth and clear, without a scar or blemish in sight. As Anna stepped closer, the man on the right swallowed hard, his gaze trailing from her elegant frame to the curve of her hips.* Who is she?* he wondered, while the other, equally enchanted, couldn't help but think,* Wow, is she hunter?* The question was laced with intrigue at her geared appearance, the silver sword at her waist glinting like a promise of skill.

Just as she moved to enter the space before them, the two guards suddenly extended their spears, crossing them to form a firm X in her path. "Whoa! You can't just enter!" one of them exclaimed, his tone incredulous.

"Whoa!" the left guard blurted, his voice gruff and edged with mock offense, brows furrowing under his helmet. "You can't just enter. Don't you know you should greet people first?"

A shiver ran through her spine, not fear or nerves, but a deep cringe twisting in her gut like a sour knot, her skin prickling with discomfort at their words, the air suddenly thick with an awkward tension that made her jaw tighten subtly.

"Why can't I enter?" she asked quickly, her voice steady but laced with a hint of impatience, escaping her lips with a soft exhale that carried the faint warmth of her breath.

The left guard straightened, spear still firm. "What, didn't you hear? This is where it took place. We have to assess anyone entering carefully from now on. So state your name and your business. And show us your proof of possession if you have one."

Anna reached into her armor, fingers brushing the warm fabric against her skin as she pulled out a necklace, the chain dangling with a soft jingle, its pendant catching the light in a subtle sparkle.

The man on the right smiled a little, a sly curve to his lips, and shifted his legs apart slightly, leaning forward in a blatant attempt to peek at her breasts as she moved, his breath quickening with opportunistic curiosity, the motion stirring a faint rustle of his own armor.

Anna met the man's gaze, her voice sharp. "Do you want to die?"

The man recoiled, a visible swallow in his throat. He cleared his throat and said, "Ahem. Well, it seems you've proven yourself a hunter. State to your own business, then." His eyes flicked to her necklace, a C- Rank emblem, though in truth, it was merely an illusion.

"I'm going inside for quests at the guild hall," Anna stated, her voice even.

The guard to the left nodded, withdrawing a folded parchment from his belt. He unfolded it, presenting it to Anna. It was a wanted poster, a crude drawing of a man. "Do you recognize this man?"

Anna's eyes narrowed as she studied the image. "No," she replied, shaking her head, her attention fixed on the man's reaction.

He swallowed hard, then carefully folded the poster. "Are you certain?"

"I'm certain."

After a pause, one of the guards said, "Alright, you can enter." They lowered their spears, granting her passage.

Anna stepped through the gates of Aria, into the heart of the bustling marketplace. The air was thick with the calls of vendors hawking their goods, the press of bodies, the ceaseless noise. A medley of scents assaulted her nostrils: the tempting aroma of roasting meats, mingled with the less appealing odor of something… rotting.

She frowned, her lip curling in distaste. This chaos, the sheer density of it, grated on her senses. It was a stark contrast to the ordered serenity she was accustomed to, and she found it deeply unsettling.

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