Night in the Darkwind Mountains was as cold as a toxin-dipped blade.

  Wind poured through countless holes in the mountainside, carrying a stench of metallic rust and sulfur, emitting a shriek like a wailing ghost.

  In a recessed alcove of a leeward cliff, Kane leaned against the frigid stone wall. He held a piece of compressed ration in his hand but had no appetite whatsoever.

  His gaze pierced the darkness, falling upon the dense clusters of holes on the distant mountain.

  They were like countless peering eyes, coldly watching the two living creatures who had intruded into this land of death.

  Crag crouched on the ground like a silent boulder, using teeth capable of crushing iron to slowly grind his rations.

  He suddenly turned his head, his voice booming low:

  "Kid, you've got something on your mind."

  Kane didn't respond immediately. His knuckles turned slightly white from his grip.

  A long moment passed before he broke the silence, his voice somewhat scattered by the wind.

  "Crag."

  "Yeah."

  "There are things you didn't ask about, and things I didn't say."

  Kane turned his head. Beneath the shadow of his hood, his gaze was startlingly sharp.

  "Now, I'm telling you."

  Crag's chewing stopped. His eyes, usually appearing somewhat sluggish, were now as calm as a deep pool of water.

  "Speak."

  Kane’s chest rose and fell ever so slightly. He took Old Tock's dying plea—"Trust no one"—and crushed it once more in his heart.

  "I can take the abilities of certain creatures."

  He didn't say "absorb"; he used the word "take."

  There wasn't a trace of surprise on Crag’s face, as if Kane had merely remarked that the wind was strong today.

  He nodded.

  "I figured."

  Now it was Kane’s expression that shifted.

  "You figured it out?"

  Crag grinned, revealing a row of stark white teeth. The smile carried a simple, raw insight.

  "Kid, I might be slow, but I'm not stupid."

  He held out a hand the size of a millstone, first pointing at the ground.

  "Taking me through the dirt."

  Then he made a slicing motion.

  "Whistling wind blades out of nowhere."

  Finally, his finger made a sharp, strange kink in the air.

  "And turning mid-air like a bird."

  Crag lowered his hand, his eyes burning as he stared at Kane.

  "None of that is stuff technology can do."

  "And every time you kill one of those monsters, your eyes stay on the corpse for a few seconds longer."

  "Like you're looking for something."

  The corner of Crag's mouth hooked into a smile.

  "I guessed it a long time ago."

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  Kane fell silent.

  He had never imagined that this seemingly simple-minded Stoneborn giant possessed such fine intuition.

  "Why didn't you ask?"

  Crag shook his head.

  "Everyone has secrets."

  He paused.

  "If you didn't say anything, you had your reasons."

  Crag stared at Kane.

  "Besides, I trust you."

  Kane’s throat tightened.

  He turned his head away, not letting Crag see his face.

  "This ability... it's likely connected to how my mentor, Old Tock, died."

  Kane’s voice was low.

  "One night, over three years ago, he let me drink for the first time."

  He paused.

  "I got drunk. While I was passed out, he used some kind of method to put this five-starred mark on my palm."

  "I asked Old Tock what it was. He refused to say. He just told me I’d find out later."

  Kane raised his right hand.

  In the center of his palm, a dull red, five-pointed star-shaped mark flickered in and out of visibility.

  Crag stared at the mark, his expression solemn.

  "That’s the source of your power?"

  Kane nodded.

  "I killed a Shadow Stalker by accident once. It dropped a green Essence Orb."

  He paused again.

  "I’m the only one who can see those orbs."

  "When I touch them with this mark, I learn their ability."

  "But it doesn’t happen every time. I don't know the logic behind it."

  After listening, Crag exhaled slowly, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

  "So, everything you’ve done... it’s all to find out why your mentor died? To get revenge?"

  "Yes." Kane nodded, making no effort to hide his killing intent.

  "And to figure out where this damn thing came from."

  "But now, that mad dog Andrew Zoe is hunting us."

  His voice turned cold, like mountain ice.

  "He won't let us go, and I don't plan on letting him live either."

  "Before I leave Blackrock Town, I have to butcher him. I don't like sleeping with a venomous snake hiding under my bed."

  Crag grinned, a smile full of bloody, primal ferocity.

  "Good."

  He slammed a hand the size of a cattail leaf fan onto Kane’s shoulder.

  "Tell me who you want dead, and I’ll pin them to the dirt for you."

  The corner of Kane’s mouth curled into a faint smile.

  "But right now, we aren't strong enough."

  He paused.

  "That’s why I came here."

  Kane stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff.

  He looked up at the distant mountains.

  "To deal with Andrew Zoe, we have to dismantle the power around him piece by piece."

  "That means we still have to take care of Craig."

  Crag frowned.

  "That 'Hammer' guy?"

  Kane nodded.

  "Craig is a full-body skeletal reinforcement cyborg."

  He paused.

  "In a head-on fight, we don't stand a chance."

  Crag remained silent.

  He knew Kane was telling the truth.

  Craig’s bone density was ten times that of a normal human, and his strength was staggering.

  That kind of monster wasn't something they could handle yet.

  "So, I need an ability. Something that lets me get close to him without a sound—something to wreck his neural interface before he can even react."

  A cold glint flashed through Kane’s eyes.

  Crag understood instantly.

  "Invisibility?"

  "Yes. Invisibility."

  Kane stood tall, gazing into the depths of the mountain range where the mist grew thicker, swirling like the breath of a titan.

  "That’s exactly why I brought you to this godforsaken place."

  "Black market intel says there’s something nesting in a stone mountain deep within the Darkwind range."

  "Shadow Bats."

  At the mention of that name, Crag’s expression shifted instantly.

  "Those things..."

  "Monsters that can melt into the shadows and vanish completely," Kane finished for him. "Extremely sharp senses, too. Natural-born assassins."

  Crag’s voice turned heavy with caution. "Kid, that’s dangerous."

  "Of course it’s dangerous."

  Kane turned around, his silhouette looking resolute against the night.

  "But it’s the only card we have to flip the script. Let’s go. We have to find their nest before dawn."

  One after the other, the two vanished into the jagged mountain path.

  An hour later, they came to a halt before a solitary, massive stone mountain.

  At the base of the mountain lay a pitch-black crack less than a meter wide. Like a hideous scar, it leaked a constant, bone-chilling wind and a thick, putrid stench.

  "This is it," Kane said, narrowing his eyes.

  Crag peered inside; the darkness seemed capable of swallowing all light and sound.

  "We’re really going in?"

  "We have to."

  Kane pulled several items from his pack: a bottle of foul-smelling, thick black liquid and a few glowsticks.

  "Scent-Masking Paste. A mixture of rotting meat and sulfur. Slather it over your whole body to cover our scent as living beings."

  As he spoke, he began rubbing the nauseating paste onto himself.

  "Shadow Bats have a better sense of smell than dogs. If we don't do this, we’ll be torn apart the second we step inside."

  Crag frowned as he took the bottle, suppressing his disgust as he began to apply it.

  Once prepared, Kane checked The Cyclone at his waist and confirmed the position of his tactical dagger. He snapped a glowstick, the eerie green light reflecting off his cold profile.

  "Once we're inside, drop one every ten meters. That’s our only way out."

  Crag gave a heavy nod.

  Kane wasted no more words and squeezed sideways into the narrow crevice. Crag followed closely behind.

  The passage inside was slick and slimy. After walking about fifty meters, the space suddenly opened up. A subterranean cavern, larger than they could have imagined, appeared before them.

  The glowstick in Kane’s hand could only illuminate a small patch around their feet; further out was nothing but bottomless darkness. Stalactites hung like jagged teeth from the ceiling. Cold drops of water fell—drip, drop—sounding exceptionally clear in the deathly silence.

  Suddenly, Kane’s hand holding the glowstick froze.

  Crag felt it too—a soul-deep shudder, the sensation of being watched by countless predators at once.

  Kane tilted the green light slightly upward.

  In the shadows of the ceiling where the light reached, dense clusters of figures hung upside down. And deep within that endless dark, one pair, ten pairs, hundreds... thousands of crimson eyes, devoid of any emotion, were slowly opening.

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