The Hunter Monarch

The tension at the Northern Gate was a palpable, living thing, a low hum of aggression that vibrated in the air, distinct from the portal's own magical thrum. It was a coiled serpent, tightening its grip with every passing second, and Lin Yu stood at its epicenter. The solid presence of his three teammates was the only thing keeping his own rising panic from consuming him. Chen stood slightly in front of him like a mountain of steel and indignation, his warhammer held loosely but ready, his shield a solid wall between them and the threat. Li Mei and Tao flanked them, Li Mei's sharp eyes darting between their opponents, her hand never straying far from her quiver, while Tao nervously channeled a tiny, almost invisible mote of healing magic around his fingertips, a nervous tic more than a preparatory spell.

Opposite them, Zhao Hu's party maintained their loose, intimidating circle. They were a pack of wolves, calm and confident, spreading out just enough to seem casual while effectively cutting off any path of retreat that didn't involve backing directly into the shimmering, unstable curtain of the C-Rank Door. Zhao Hu himself was the picture of arrogant amusement, his arms crossed over his polished chest plate, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the cornered party.

"What's the matter, Chen?" Zhao Hu taunted, his voice carrying easily over the din of the plaza, deliberately pitching it to draw the attention of nearby Hunters. "Your Captain abandons you for a single morning and you all look like lost children. It's a pathetic sight. Are you sure you can even handle a C-Rank without her holding your hands?"

"Our Captain is on her way," Chen rumbled, his voice a low and dangerous promise. He took a half-step forward, forcing Zhao Hu's men to tense. "And when she gets here, I suggest you and your dogs be somewhere else. This is your only warning."

"Or what? You'll challenge us?" Zhao Hu laughed, a loud, barking sound that made several rookie Hunters flinch. He uncrossed his arms and spread them wide, a gesture of mock invitation. "By all means, please do. A half-baked Paladin whose best skill is standing still, a jumpy Archer who probably couldn't hit the broad side of a Grotto Matron, a wet-behind-the-ears Healer who looks like he's about to piss himself, and…" He paused, his eyes landing on Lin Yu with theatrical contempt. "…him. Forgive me if I'm not trembling. My party could wipe the floor with you before your Captain even crossed the plaza."

He was right, and the cold, hard truth of it was a bitter pill. Everyone knew it. Tiger's Fury was a higher-ranked, better-geared, and more ruthless party. Without Su Wan's skill and leadership to anchor them, Chen, Li Mei, and Tao were outmatched. Chen's jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along his cheek, but he didn't take the bait. His job right now wasn't to win a fight, but to de-escalate and protect his team—to protect Lin Yu, who was so obviously the true target of this venomous display.

Lin Yu felt a hundred pairs of eyes on them. He heard the whispers weaving through the crowd. "That's Tiger's Fury." "Who are they hassling?" "Oh, that's Su Wan's party. And that's the Zero… I heard he's a jinx." The humiliation was a hot flush on his skin, a burning brand of shame. He hated this, hated being the center of this conflict, the lightning rod for Zhao Hu's toxic pride. He gripped the hilt of his iron sword, the simple weapon feeling hopelessly, laughably inadequate. It was a child's toy against the enchanted, glowing blades of Tiger's Fury.

His mind, a finely honed tool for analysis, raced. He tried to see past the insults, to understand the strategy. This wasn't just bullying. It was tactical. The positioning of Zhao Hu's men, the way they were slowly, almost imperceptibly, tightening their circle… it was forcing his own party to bunch up, to keep their backs to the portal. It was a classic pincer movement, but without the attack. It felt like a shepherd herding sheep towards a cliff's edge, making them think they were huddling for safety when they were actually being positioned for a fall. The dread in his gut intensified.

He looked past Zhao Hu's shoulder, his eyes darting through the sea of faces in the plaza, praying for the sight of Su Wan's running form. Where are you? Please, where are you?

The standoff stretched, each second dripping with unspoken violence. Li Mei had an arrow discreetly nocked. Chen's knuckles were white where he gripped his hammer. They were a powder keg, and Zhao Hu was holding a lit match, dancing it just above the fuse.

Then, through the crowd, he saw her.

A flash of familiar black leather armor, a ponytail whipping through the air. A determined, furious face, weaving through the throngs of people with a speed and agility that parted the crowd like a ship's prow through water. Su Wan. She had seen them, had seen the standoff, and she was sprinting towards them, her expression a thundercloud of protective rage.

Relief, so powerful and absolute it nearly buckled his knees, washed over Lin Yu. The cavalry was here. He saw Chen and Li Mei turn their heads, their own relief evident. The final piece of their party was here. Everything would be alright now.

But Zhao Hu saw her too. And the lazy amusement on his face vanished, replaced by a sharp, predatory focus. He met Lin Yu's eyes for a half-second, and in that fleeting moment, Lin Yu saw it: a flicker of triumphant, malevolent glee. It was a look that said, Now.

It was the signal.

The world erupted into a blast of calculated chaos.

To their left, the assassin twins, Lin and Feng, who had been lurking at the edge of the confrontation, sprang into action. Feng nocked and fired his bow in a single, fluid motion, the arrow hitting the ground at the party's feet. It wasn't a lethal projectile; it was a [Smoke-Burst Arrow]. It detonated with a deafening POP and a thick, roiling cloud of greasy, black smoke instantly billowed outwards, enveloping them. Simultaneously, Lin clashed her daggers together, producing a piercing, high-pitched screech of metal and a shower of brilliant, blindingly white sparks—the [Sparksong] skill.

The combined assault was a sensory shockwave. The bang, the smoke, the screech, the flash—it was designed to disorient, to force a universal flinch. Every Hunter nearby, including Lin Yu's own party, recoiled instinctively. Chen raised his shield on reflex, his vision obscured. Li Mei squinted against the blinding light, and Tao cried out in alarm, stumbling backward. For a single, critical second, their protective formation was broken, their attention violently pulled away from Lin Yu and towards the source of the sudden cacophony.

The trap had been sprung. The final, terrible gears of Zhao Hu's plan began to turn with breathtaking speed, all converging on the one person left momentarily exposed in the heart of the storm.

Su Wan saw the smoke and sparks erupt and her blood ran cold. She pushed herself harder, her lungs burning, knowing with sickening certainty that she was already too late.