Veteran Pathfinder Oren Pike watched the man train for twenty-six minutes before taking the shot.

  Long enough to understand the rhythm.

  The flats below shimmered in the heat rising from the lava river. Ash drifted lazily across the valley floor, turning every movement into a study of contrast and shadow.

  Pike lay prone along the volcanic ridge, rifle braced against a slab of black stone worn smooth by centuries of wind. The weapon’s targeting system whispered quiet telemetry across the inside of his visor.

  Wind speed. Thermal distortion. Distance.

  Seven hundred and eighty-two point six seven meters.

  The man below—Ben—raised a wand and split a basalt pillar wrapped in mana cleanly in half.

  Pike’s eyebrow lifted slightly.

  Interesting.

  He shifted the rifle a fraction of a degree, tracking.

  The elven woman observing didn’t applaud.

  She evaluated.

  That told him more than the spell itself.

  Pike’s visor zoomed.

  The dangerous ones were always calm.

  The man trained again. Controlled pulses of energy this time. Cleaner than before.

  Improvement curve noted.

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  Behind the scope, Pike could see the third figure lounging on a rock nearby—small, winged, relaxed. This made him pause.

  It was a demon. Looked like a grimp.

  Which made absolutely no sense.

  Grimps never grew taller than thirty centimeters. He would know. He'd killed hundreds of grimps.

  Anomaly my ass. Planet killer and an impossible demon. I'm charging double.

  The man turned. Back exposed.

  The hot wind stilled for just a moment.

  Pike exhaled.

  The rifle coughed once, and the man folded instantly, hitting the ground.

  Target neutralized.

  Clean.

  Pike didn’t celebrate.

  He simply adjusted his scope.

  The small demon launched toward the body immediately.

  Pike fired again.

  The round shattered stone beside the creature.

  Another round.

  Closer this time.

  The demon skidded sideways, wings flaring.

  Good.

  Keep it away from the body.

  Then the woman moved.

  Pike’s finger paused on the trigger.

  She vanished.

  Not literally.

  But the acceleration was sudden enough that the human eye would have called it teleportation.

  Pike’s visor tracked the motion arc.

  Thirty meters.

  Straight line burst.

  Afterimage distortion.

  His expression sharpened slightly.

  He eased open a gate and instantly pushed the movement data to Rift.

  Then the ground exploded.

  Basalt spears erupted across the valley floor, racing toward the ridgeline like a charging wall of black stone.

  Pike rolled aside as the nearest spike punched upward through the rock where he had been lying moments earlier.

  The terrain just changed completely.

  Shit.

  Pike rose into a crouch, calmly repositioning behind a new slab of cover.

  Through a narrow gap in the rock he saw the woman again.

  Standing beside the fallen target.

  Wand raised.

  Power gathering around her like a storm.

  Pike zoomed his visor further.

  Silver-white hair.

  Tall.

  Controlled posture.

  Recognition flickered through the combat database in his visor.

  Pike felt his pulse tick up a notch.

  Identification confirmed.

  His lips curled faintly.

  “Well,” Pike said quietly. “That escalated quickly.”

  Far below, Helena Voss continued walking across the battlefield without the slightest hint of concern.

  Pike chambered another round.

  Then the demon vanished.

  Gone from the body.

  Gone from the flats.

  Pike’s visor swept the battlefield.

  Nothing.

  Pike smiled faintly.

  Good. The little bastard finally understood the game.

  He rose smoothly and began relocating along the ridge.

  Predators did not stay still for long.