We moved as a unit, each of us striking, blocking, warding. The constructs adapted with terrifying speed, shifting, splitting, merging. Their forms flowed like oil in water, each strike I made diverted and twisted, each ward Sophia laid met with counterforce. The river itself rose in small walls around them, curling over the edges of the bridge like serpents coiled to strike, guiding their movement, anticipating ours.

I could feel it now—not just the physical resistance, but something deeper, crawling along the edges of my mind. A tug, subtle, almost polite at first, like a shadow brushing against my thoughts. Then it sharpened. A whisper, soft and pervasive: Give up. You cannot stop me.

My stomach twisted. I staggered back a step, bile rising, but I gritted my teeth and shook it off. "Not yet," I muttered through clenched teeth. "We're not done."

Sophia's hands burned with effort, sweat streaming down her face, her fingers trembling as she traced the wards over and over, strengthening the barriers around us. "I can't hold them much longer," she shouted, her voice cracking. "They'll overwhelm the wards if we don't break their focus. Just one misstep… and—"

"I know," I said, glancing at Sarah. My voice was calm, but my heart thumped like a drum. "We need a distraction. Something big."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, scanning the river, the bridge, the swirling chaos around us. Then they flicked to the broken girders overhead. A faint smirk brushed her lips. "I've got one."

Before I could ask, she grabbed a length of rope tied loosely to one of the bridge's iron supports, swung herself over the edge, and leapt. Her boots hit the construct like a hammer on water, and the rope coiled around its form, yanking it into the bridge supports. The water hissed and screamed around her, thrashing in protest, but she held fast, sword flashing. Each strike she made left ripples in the construct's form, tearing it apart, but it reformed instantly, black liquid clinging to the bridge like oil.

I saw my chance. The river, temporarily focused on Sarah, allowed me to dash toward the riverbank, knife flashing. I slashed at the nearest construct, feeling the wet resistance as my blade passed through it, metal and splintered wood cutting beneath my feet. The river pulsed beneath me, screaming and surging in fury, but the constructs were momentarily distracted, wrestling with Sarah's brutal improvisation.

Sophia, sensing the opening, unleashed a concentrated burst of wards, a green wave erupting from her staff. It collided with one of the constructs, sending it spraying apart like ink in water, dissolving into harmless droplets that fell to the river below. Relief flared in my chest, but it was fleeting—the final construct loomed, faster than before, twisting and reforming around Sarah in a coil of living black water.

I ran to her side, diving into the fray with knife and elbow, keeping the construct from enveloping her completely. She grunted, blade slicing clean through the water-form. The construct shimmered, dark liquid rippling as it reformed immediately, and the river beneath the bridge pulsed in a low, satisfied hum.

"We can't hold it!" Sophia shouted, voice trembling with exhaustion and fear. Her green wards flickered like dying flames. "It's learning from every strike! Every move we make—it adapts!"

I realized the brutal truth in a sudden, cold wash: the river itself was the Empress's weapon. Not her soldiers. Not her pawns. The river. Every drop, every current, a fragment of her will. Every wave and ripple a lesson stored, remembered, and twisted into new forms of attack. Every moment we fought, it cataloged our reactions, our weaknesses, our rhythms.

Sarah's eyes met mine, fierce and unyielding, and I saw no fear there, only resolve. "Then we give it a lesson it won't forget," she said, voice low, tight, but brimming with defiance.

I nodded, matching her resolve with my own. Together, we struck at the last construct with everything we had, moving with speed, coordination, and desperation. Our bodies were slick with sweat, muscles screaming in protest, hearts hammering in our chests. Sophia poured every ounce of her magic into a single, concentrated strike, a pulse of energy that collided with the construct like a hammer smashing against steel. The black form screamed, liquid fury writhing violently, faltering, destabilizing as cracks appeared in its body.

I lunged, knife sinking deep, the wet resistance of its form giving way under my hand. Sarah's sword cut through its center with a metallic clang that echoed over the river. The construct shuddered violently, twisting, splitting, and then—finally—shattered. Black droplets rained down into the river below, scattering harmlessly as the pulse of the water stilled.

The silence that followed was deafening. The river lay quiet, almost obedient, reflecting the pale morning light as if nothing had occurred. But I knew better. The pulse beneath my feet, the subtle ripple along the bank, the tiny tremors running through the bridge supports—it was not gone. It was simply watching, cataloging, waiting. Learning still, even in apparent calm.

Sophia collapsed to her knees, hands trembling, wards flickering and dying out like spent fireflies. "It… learned a lot from that," she said, voice hollow, eyes wide with the strain of what we had just survived.

I wiped sweat and grime from my face, tasting copper and river water. "So did we," I said quietly. My hands shook, but my jaw was set. "And we're still alive."

Sarah leaned heavily on her sword, chest heaving, shoulders slick with sweat. Her gaze remained fixed upstream. "Upstream," she said, voice steady now, hard with determination. "We keep moving. She's not done. But we've shown her something she won't forget easily."

Mona's voice echoed faintly across the hill, riding the wind, distant but clear: "Good work. But the heart of the river is ahead. And she's waiting."

I swallowed hard, tasting the cold metal tang of anticipation. The hunt was far from over. The river now lay deceptively calm, black and reflective, like a sheet of glass. But I knew better. Every current, every eddy, every subtle shift recorded what had just happened. The Empress was patient, cunning, and everywhere at once.

And somewhere upstream, she waited.

We moved again, keeping to the shadows, following the pulse of the river. Each step carried the memory of our exertion, our fear, and the knowledge that the real hunt—the one that mattered—was only just beginning. My heart pounded, but beneath the fear, beneath the exhaustion, a fierce spark burned: we would not be cowed.

The city had tried to kill us. The river had tried to drown us. The constructs had tried to tear us apart. And the Empress… she would try to break us, mind and body, soul and will.

But we were hunters.

And hunters were not broken.

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