A Past Revealed

VII

A couple of years ago, Leora had been one of the Hunter Association's most formidable agents. Her skill and tenacity were unmatched, and her latest mission had proven to be one of the most dangerous she had ever undertaken. The target had been relentless, the stakes impossibly high, but in the end, Leora had prevailed.

It was during that mission that she stumbled upon something that shook her to her core—a conspiracy that would change everything she thought she knew about the Hunter Association.

The Hunting Dog Initiative.

The name alone was enough to send chills down her spine. It was a secretive project designed to program alternate personalities into unsuspecting hunters. These personalities could be activated and controlled at will, turning the affected hunters into mindless tools for the Association's darker purposes.

And Leora had discovered that she was one of them.

The realization had been a gut punch, a betrayal so deep that it left her reeling. She hated herself for it—for being unable to stop it, for not noticing the signs earlier. She had prided herself on her instincts, her sharpness, and yet she had been blind to the truth.

The criteria for becoming a Hunting Dog were chillingly simple: one had to be "undesirable." Criminals, the homeless, the mentally ill… and orphans.

Leora fit the profile perfectly.

As a child, she had been part of a Hunter training program designed for orphans like her. She had always believed it to be some kind of scholarship, a golden opportunity to escape her bleak circumstances and build a future. But now, she knew the truth—it had all been a lie.

If it hadn't been for Selena, Leora might have remained ignorant of the conspiracy forever. Selena, her old friend and confidante, had stumbled upon fragments of the truth and shared them with Leora. Together, they had uncovered the horrifying extent of the Secret Initiative.

But Selena was gone now, lost to the very organization they had fought to expose.

Or probably, just hiding…

Leora couldn't keep living that life. She quit the Hunter Association, vanishing from the shadows and severing all ties. The alternate personality implanted within her was removed in exchange of a favor—it had been a harrowing process that left her weak and vulnerable. She had fully expected the Association to hunt her down and eliminate her, but to her surprise, they didn't. The President of the Association had let her go, for reasons she still didn't understand.

Leora went into hiding, retreating from the world. She lived as a shut-in, cutting all ties with her former life. She had enough money to live comfortably, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to relax. She spent her days reading web novels, losing herself in fictional worlds far removed from her grim reality.

There was one author she particularly admired, someone she had followed for a long time. Their online alias was Butterfly23, and Leora had grown close to them through shared messages and comments. One day, on a whim, she decided to meet them in real life.

They met in a café.

The moment she saw them, the first words out of her mouth were, "You're a guy?"

She had always imagined Butterfly23 as a cute, elder sister figure who would spoil her rotten. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Reynard, a flustered man who nearly choked on his drink at her bluntness.

From that bizarre meeting, Leora's life took an unexpected turn. What had started as an action-packed, high-stakes existence devolved into something entirely different. Her life became a rom-com, filled with awkward moments, playful banter, and growing affection.

Eventually, they fell in love. They got married, and not long after, they had a baby boy.

…

Leora woke up abruptly, her blonde hair sprawled messily across the pillow. Her blue eyes blinked against the dim light of the motel room, scanning her surroundings as reality settled in.

It had all been a dream—a bittersweet memory of the past, woven together with fragments of hope and regret.

She sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair. The room was quiet, the air stale. She had no idea what the day would bring, but for now, she allowed herself a moment to remember the life she had left behind.

Her past might have been filled with pain and betrayal, but it had also given her moments of joy and love. And those moments, however fleeting, were worth holding onto.

"Let's see what we have here…"

After finding her laptop, she then returned to her investigation.

Leora's fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, her expression hardening with each precise keystroke. The dim glow of her laptop illuminated her face, the only light in the dark motel room. Her blue eyes flickered with intensity as the screen displayed the familiar yet detested interface of the Hunter's Net, a hidden and encrypted network known only to hunters and those with access to their clandestine world.

Years had passed since Leora last tapped into the Net. She had vowed never to return to it, hoping that the life she built with Reynard would shield her from the shadows of her past. But the attack on her home had shattered that fragile peace. Her sanctuary was violated, and her family was endangered.

Whoever orchestrated the assault had made a grave mistake.

Leora the Bright. Leora of the Guiding Light. Once, those names had struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. As a hunter, she had been relentless, pursuing justice and retribution with an unyielding determination. But she had paid the price for her devotion to the hunt. The cost was steep, and when Reynard entered her life, she thought she had finally escaped its toll.

Now, it seemed her past had come back to claim her.

Her hands hesitated for a moment as she scrolled through a list of old contacts, most of whom were now marked inactive. Many were retired, some had disappeared, and others… others were dead. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep going. There had to be something—some thread she could pull to uncover who had targeted her family.

The attack wasn't random. It was too calculated, too precise. They knew where to find them. They knew when to strike.

"Who are they?" Leora muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she sifted through fragmented information.

Her mind churned through the possibilities. Over the years, she had made countless enemies—corrupt hunters, rogue organizations, entities that used aura for unspeakable purposes. But this group felt different. They were invisible, methodical, and entirely unfamiliar.

Her frustration mounted as she found little more than vague rumors: whispers of a new faction operating in the shadows, targeting retired hunters and those with connections to a buried past.

But why her? And why now?

Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms as the memory of the attack resurfaced. They had come so close to taking Reynard and Leon from her. Too close. She couldn't let it go. She wouldn't let it go.

Leora's fingers hovered over the keyboard, the weight of her next decision pressing down on her. She hated what she was about to do, but there was no other choice.

She opened an old chat window, one she hadn't touched in years. The name on the other end sent a shiver down her spine. It was a contact she never thought she'd need to call on again, but desperate times demanded desperate measures.

With a deep breath, she typed a single message:

Leora_Bright: I need information. Meet me where it all started.

Her heart sank as she hit send. She knew what this would cost her, but she also knew there was no turning back.

Old_Man: I know what you want.

Leora stared at the message on her laptop, her fingers poised over the keyboard as her heart thudded in her chest.

Leora_Bright: How much?

She held her breath, her pulse loud in her ears as she waited for the reply.

Old_Man: We will talk.

The words sent a chill down her spine. Stefan wasn't one to avoid naming a price. The fact that he hadn't meant something was wrong.

Leora exhaled slowly, pushing her unease aside. "I'm going to hunt them down," she muttered to herself, her voice firm with resolve. "No matter what it costs."

She tied her blonde hair into a ponytail, the action swift and practiced, before sliding her helmet into place. The click of the visor locking down was like the closing of a chapter—the quiet civilian life she had fought so hard for was over.

With deliberate movements, she packed her gear, careful to leave no trace of her presence in the dingy motel room. Sliding through the window into the narrow alley outside, she darted into the shadows, the cold night air biting at her skin.

Her bike was parked a short distance away, hidden from view. She swung a leg over the sleek machine and revved the engine, its growl breaking the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, she sped off, the city's lights blurring as she weaved through empty streets.

The journey to the meeting point felt both endless and fleeting.

It was outside the World Wall, a City-state just around the Norther Wall…

The random spatial tears between the Claimed Lands and the Forbidden Region had grown more frequent, a constant reminder of the world's fragility. Creatures slipped through those tears, but it wasn't the monsters that worried her. It was the people. Hunters, rogues, and worse—those who thrived in chaos.

Leora's destination loomed ahead, a rundown warehouse on the city's outskirts. She cut the engine and dismounted, moving silently into the alley beside the building.

Under a flickering streetlight stood Stefan, the "Old Man" she had contacted. His rugged face was lined with age, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. The soft glow of the light highlighted the sharpness in his eyes, a look that hadn't dulled with time.

"Bright," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke as his gaze settled on her.

"Stefan," she replied, stepping into the light.

The two of them stood in tense silence, their history unspoken but heavy in the air. Leora knew this wasn't a friendly reunion. Stefan was a hunter for profit, and every interaction with him came with a price.

"You're in trouble," Stefan said, his tone flat. "What's with you and bad luck? You're bad for business, Bright."

"I'm not here to reminisce," Leora said, her voice cold. "Someone attacked my family. I need to know who they are."

Stefan raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "You've got serious enemies, Bright. Always did."

"I need information," she repeated. "Now."

Stefan sighed, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. "Whoever came after you isn't playing around. They're professionals, Leora the Bright. Or is it Leora Bright now? They've been hitting hunters all over, one by one."

Her jaw tightened. "I'll handle it. How much?" Leora ignored the comment and jab at Stefan's mention of 'Bright' too aware that Stefan was testing her.

Stefan let out a dark chuckle. "You always had a death wish. Be careful, Bright. This isn't the same world we used to hunt in." He hesitated before adding, "Talks of expeditions into the Forbidden Region are on the rise again. And as someone from the last generation, let me tell you—they'll fail. And when they do, a calamity will follow."

The mention of the Forbidden Region sent a chill down her spine. It was a place of unfathomable danger, where hunters went in bold and came out broken—if they came out at all. But Leora wasn't here to entertain ghost stories.

"How much?" she pressed, her voice cutting through his warnings.

Stefan's expression darkened. "Forget money. You'll owe me a favor instead."

Leora's eyes narrowed. "What kind of favor?"

Stefan stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Your husband's a mundane, isn't he?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Stefan knew exactly where to strike, and Leora hated that he was right. Leora suppressed a scoff as she let Stefan continue.

"Then it is relevant to you," he continued, his voice low. "Last time they failed, they brought something back. A plague. The kind that tore through cities like wildfire. Do you know how many bodies were buried the week after? Enough to build a mountain."

Leora swallowed hard, but her face betrayed no emotion. She'd heard the stories—the plague that devastated the Claimed Lands, leaving scars that hadn't healed even after all these years. But no amount of warnings would change her mind.

Stefan sighed, his hard gaze softening slightly. "Take it as advice from an old friend. Go home. Be there for your husband while you still can. You know how fragile mundanes are."

Leora's fists clenched at her sides, but she didn't respond. She couldn't.

"Fine," Stefan said, his voice resigned. "I'll get you what you need. But don't say I didn't warn you."

…

Leora zipped through the dimly lit streets, her mind focused on the lead she'd picked up some time ago. The city was a blur of muted lights and darkened buildings as she leaned into the turns, her bike's engine purring beneath her. Stefan's warning echoed faintly in her mind, but she pushed it aside. She had no time for doubt. Not now.

The lead was promising—too promising, she realized a second too late. Her instincts flared, a prickling sensation running up her spine.

Her fingers gripped the handlebars, and she launched herself off the bike mid-motion. She landed in a crouch just as the bike surged forward into a hidden net trap. The net sprang to life, crackling with fire, and her bike was instantly engulfed in flames.

Leora's sharp eyes narrowed. Mundane tech. Not aura.

These weren't hunters. They were mercenaries.

The sudden roar of gunfire erupted from the windows above. The unmistakable chatter of automatic rifles filled the air, and bullets peppered the spot where she had just been standing. She rolled to the side, her body moving fluidly as her aura-enhanced reflexes kicked in.

As a Seeker-type, her senses and reactions were leagues beyond the norm. The mercenaries' attacks were chaotic, but her movements were calculated, precise. She darted between alleyways, her boots silent on the pavement, the city's shadows swallowing her whole.

The gunfire grew distant as she maneuvered through the maze of narrow streets, her breathing steady, her focus razor-sharp. The mercenaries were dangerous in numbers, but they weren't her real concern.

Her instincts flared again as she turned a corner into a darkened alley.

Someone's here.

Leora froze, her sharp gaze locking onto the figure standing at the far end of the alley. Cloaked in shadows, their aura radiated power. Unlike the mercenaries, this one was unmistakably a hunter.

"You've been making waves, Leora the Bright," the figure said, stepping forward. Their voice was calm, but it carried an undercurrent of menace. "It's time to stop. Aren't you supposed to be retired?"

Her hand drifted to the hilt of her blade, hidden beneath her coat. "Who are you? Who sent you?"

The hunter didn't answer immediately. Instead, they raised a hand, and the air around them began to shimmer, faint distortions rippling through the space. Leora's sharp senses identified the type instantly—a Trickster.

"My name is Thomas," the hunter finally said, his voice low. "It's not you we want. Walk away, and maybe we'll let you live."

Leora's jaw tightened. Tricksters were masters of illusion, their abilities designed to distort reality and lower their opponents' guard. But against a Seeker like her, their tricks rarely held.

"If you didn't want me poking around," she said, her voice steady and cold, "you should've left my family alone."

Thomas smirked, his aura crackling faintly. "We warned you."

Leora moved without warning. Her blade flashed in the dim light as she closed the distance in an instant, her brass-knuckled fist following the arc of her knife.

But before her strike could land, a sharp crack echoed through the alley.

Pain radiated through her skull as her helmet split, the impact barely missing her head. She staggered back, her instincts screaming.

Thomas stood smugly, his fist glowing with the unmistakable energy of a Fighter's aura. "I didn't come alone," he said, his smirk widening. "And yes, I'm a Fighter."

Leora weaved under his next punch, the air around her crackling with energy. She had been tricked—Thomas wasn't just a Trickster. He was a hybrid, a Fighter-Trickster, combining the raw strength of a Fighter with the deceptive abilities of a Trickster.

Her vision blurred slightly, the distortion in the air making it harder to focus. There's another one, she realized.

Somewhere nearby, a second Trickster was at work, amplifying the illusions and throwing off her perception.

Leora gritted her teeth, her mind racing as she evaded another blow. She couldn't afford to fight on their terms. She needed to find the second Trickster—fast.

Sliding beneath Thomas's next strike, she spun on her heel and slashed upward with her blade. Sparks flew as the knife glanced off his aura-shielded forearm. His strength was impressive, but his attacks were predictable.

Her senses flared again, pinpointing the faint aura signature nearby. There.

With a burst of speed, Leora darted to the side, breaking away from Thomas.

Alas, her evasion had been proven ineffective.

The new arrival was a Caster.

Leora's knees buckled as the airless sphere tightened its grip. Her lungs screamed for oxygen, her body trembling under the oppressive force. The smirking Caster kept her hands raised, her aura flaring as she maintained the spell with ease.

Thomas stepped closer, his mocking grin illuminated by the dim streetlights. "Not so bright now, are you?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Sarah, hurt her more…" added Thomas as he addressed the Caster.

"You are not the boss of me, Thomas," snarkily replied the woman in purple.

Leora didn't respond as the pressure in her skull increased. Her instincts screamed at her to stay calm, to focus. She was a Seeker, trained to read the flow of battle and exploit openings. But right now, she had no air to breathe, no strength to strike back.

Above her, the real Trickster—the man in the sweater and glasses—watched with detached amusement from the edge of the roof. His unremarkable appearance belied the sharp cunning in his eyes.

"You know," he said casually, adjusting his glasses, "I've read all about you, Leora of the Guiding Light. A prodigy, they said. But honestly, I expected more. You've been disappointing so far."

Leora's grip on her knife tightened, her knuckles white. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to lash out, but she held back, forcing herself to think. The Trickster's taunts were a distraction. Sarah was the immediate threat.

The young man leaned forward, his smirk widening. "Ah, where are my manners? I should explain why we're here. You see, I'm putting together a team. A proper one. But teams need resources, and the best resources are always... personal. Your son, Leonard, for example. He'd make a fine addition to—"

"Don't you dare!" Leora snarled, her voice rasping through the suffocating pressure.

The Trickster chuckled, unfazed. "Oh, I dare. And honestly, it's nothing personal. He's just a job, a way to get paid. You understand, don't you? Mercenary work is all about opportunity."

Sarah glanced at the Trickster, her smirk matching his. "Should I end it?"

Leora's mind raced. She couldn't let this end here—not like this. Her vision blurred, her body screaming in protest as the crushing force around her intensified.

But she wasn't done yet.

Through the haze of suffocation, her Seeker aura flared. She didn't need to breathe to sense the flow of energy around her, to see the weak points in her enemies' defenses. Sarah's control wasn't absolute—her focus wavered slightly whenever she spoke or glanced at the Trickster.

It was a slim opening, but it was enough.

Leora's brass-knuckled hand twitched, and with a surge of effort, she slammed her fist into the ground. Her aura channeled into the strike, sending a shockwave rippling outward. The impact wasn't enough to harm Sarah, but it disrupted her concentration for a split second.

The airless sphere faltered.

Leora sucked in a desperate gasp of air, her body lurching forward as she regained her footing. Her knife flashed in the dim light, and with a swift, calculated motion, she hurled it toward Sarah.

The Caster reacted instinctively, twisting to avoid the blade. The sphere collapsed entirely as her focus broke, and Leora lunged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant.

Sarah's eyes widened, but before she could raise her hands again, Leora's brass-knuckled fist connected with her jaw. The force of the blow sent the woman sprawling to the ground, her aura flickering and fading.

Thomas roared, charging toward Leora with his fists crackling with energy. She sidestepped his wild swing, her movements fluid and precise.

"You've made a mistake," Leora said coldly, her voice steady despite her earlier struggle. "You came after my family."

Thomas snarled, swinging again, but Leora was faster. Her Seeker aura guided her movements, and she slipped behind him, delivering a sharp kick to the back of his knee. He stumbled, and Leora didn't hesitate. She drove her brass-knuckled fist into his side, sending him crashing into the alley wall.

The Trickster clapped slowly from his perch above. "Impressive. Truly. But you're out of time, Leora. Reinforcements are on their way, and you're in no condition to fight them all."

Leora's sharp gaze locked onto him, her chest heaving as she steadied her breathing. "You should've brought them with you," she said.

The Trickster's smirk faltered, but only for a moment. "Oh, I'll see you again, Leora. And next time, I'll make sure Leonard gets my personal attention."

Before she could respond, the Trickster vanished, his aura fading into the shadows.

Leora stood motionless for a moment, her fists clenched, her heart pounding with fury.

They had underestimated her.

And they would pay for it.

~007