The crunch of gravel beneath our boots was the only sound between us.

  The soldier was still following me, but he’d given up on talking.

  Maybe he’d realized I wasn’t going to entertain another argument.

  Maybe he just didn’t have anything left to say.

  Either way, both were good.

  The silence stretched between us, thick and unyielding.

  I didn’t care.

  If he wanted to keep trailing behind me like a shadow, that was his problem.

  I wasn’t going to be the one to break the tension.

  The night air was cool, but the weight of his presence made it feel heavier than it should’ve.

  Every now and then, I could feel his gaze flick toward me, probably expecting me to say something, to explain myself, to justify why I was walking toward a dangerous portal like it was just another step on my path.

  But I didn’t.

  I didn’t owe him an explanation.

  So we kept walking, side by side yet miles apart.

  The eerie glow of the portal was visible before we even arrived.

  A faint shimmer in the air, warping the space around it like a mirage, casting an unnatural light onto the ground beneath it.

  Even without stepping closer, I could feel it, the quiet hum of energy, the subtle distortion in the air that sent a shiver crawling down my spine.

  We weren’t alone.

  Two soldiers stood ahead, stationed near the portal, their posture rigid, their hands hovering near their weapons.

  Their eyes locked onto us the moment we came into view, wary and alert.

  The one who had followed me here, who had spent the past several minutes alternating between skepticism and frustration, picked up his pace, moving ahead to greet them.

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  I didn’t.

  Instead, I slowed my steps, taking in the scene with measured caution.

  The ground near the portal was disturbed, marked by heavy boot prints and tire tracks from military vehicles that had likely been stationed here earlier.

  The air carried the faint scent of ozone, mixed with the earthy dampness of the terrain.

  It was clear that whoever had been here before had taken the situation seriously.

  The two stationed soldiers shifted slightly as my escort reached them, their gazes flickering between me and him, waiting for an explanation.

  I could already tell they were questioning why a random civilian, one without a visible weapon or the telltale gear of an experienced awakened, was approaching a high-risk anomaly.

  I could hear them talking now, though their voices were low.

  Standing a short distance away, I kept my posture relaxed, but my senses were sharp.

  It wasn’t hard to hear them, not when their conversation carried over the otherwise quiet air.

  "Who's that?" one of the stationed soldiers asked, his voice edged with suspicion as his gaze flickered toward me.

  His grip on his rifle didn’t tighten, but the readiness in his stance told me he was prepared for trouble if it came.

  "The only awakened who responded," my escort answered, sounding just as unimpressed as before.

  There was a brief silence.

  Then a scoff.

  "You’re joking."

  "Wish I was." The soldier who had followed me here exhaled, rubbing his temple as if the situation itself was giving him a headache. "Train stopped because of the portal, announcement went out asking for any hunter or expirenced awakened on board. No one else moved."

  A pause.

  "Except him."

  I could feel their eyes on me, weighing, judging.

  It was a reasonable reaction.

  I didn’t exactly look the part.

  No expensive armor, no weapons visibly strapped to me, not even a proper tactical vest.

  Just an ordinary jacket, dark clothes, and a dagger I had barely bothered to reveal earlier.

  If I were in their position, I wouldn’t be convinced either.

  The weight of their stares didn’t bother me.

  I had felt worse, endured worse.

  But the silence stretching between us carried a familiar skepticism, the kind that came when people measured you against their expectations and found you lacking.

  "Are we sure he's actually a hunter?" one of the stationed soldiers asked again, this time more openly doubtful.

  His eyes scanned me from head to toe, as if he was trying to spot something, anything, that would confirm or deny my capabilities.

  "His ID checks out," my escort replied, though he didn’t sound particularly thrilled about it.

  That caught the soldier's attention.

  "So he really is one?"

  The escort sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "Yeah, but—"

  There was always a "but."

  "But?" the soldier prompted, arms crossing.

  "But he's only D-rank."

  The words hung in the air, heavier than they should’ve been.

  And there it was, that familiar shift in expression.

  The barely restrained disappointment.

  The glance exchanged between the two stationed soldiers, as if that single piece of information had lowered their already minimal expectations even further.

  "A D-rank?" one of them muttered, almost under his breath. "You’re kidding."

  I could hear the unspoken words behind that reaction.

  A D-rank wouldn’t be enough.

  A D-rank wasn’t worth relying on.

  A D-rank wasn’t the kind of awakened they had hoped would answer the call.

  I stayed silent, letting them come to their own conclusions.

  It wasn’t my job to convince them.