Etzel had been home for less than a day when Neris informed him that he had plans. Not asked. Informed.
He was eating breakfast when she dropped the school notice beside his plate. Etzel looked down. Then up.
“No.”
Neris sat across from him. “Yes.”
He read the notice again. Family picnic. Students were permitted to bring one immediate family member. Teacher-supervised. Outdoor activity. Games. Food. Social interaction.
Etzel looked horrified. “This contains every threat category.”
Neris narrowed her eyes. “It’s a picnic.”
“There are people.”
“Yes.”
“Organized activities.”
“Yes.”
“Teachers.”
“Etzel.”
He pointed at the paper. “I fought a Level Thirteen creature yesterday. This feels more dangerous.”
Veydan lowered his cup. “You are going.”
Etzel turned. “Betrayal.”
Ismera placed another plate on the table. “You’ve barely been home.”
“I returned voluntarily.”
“And now you’re voluntarily going with your sister.”
“That doesn’t sound voluntary.”
Neris smiled. Etzel looked at her. “Why me?”
“Mom would talk to everyone.”
Ismera froze. Neris continued.
“Dad would stand around looking serious.”
Veydan looked offended. “I can socialize.”
Three people stared at him. Veydan paused. “Enough.”
Neris pointed toward Etzel. “You’re entertaining.”
Etzel leaned back. “That may be the nicest insult you’ve ever given me.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Etzel sighed. “All right.”
Neris smiled. Then Etzel added: “But if someone starts a group song, I’m leaving you there.”
The picnic grounds were outside the city. Far enough to feel like wilderness. Close enough to remain within a monitored recreational zone. The school had chosen the location because it was considered safe. That phrase had become increasingly suspicious to Etzel.
The field sat between low wooded slopes, with several open clearings separated by trees. Tables had been arranged beneath canvas awnings. Teachers moved between students. Parents and siblings talked. Food appeared in unreasonable quantities.
For almost twenty minutes—nothing tried to kill Etzel. He found that deeply unsettling.
Neris caught him looking toward the tree line. “Stop.”
“What?”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The dangerous-forest stare.”
Etzel looked at her. “I don’t have a dangerous-forest stare.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I have expressive eyes.”
“You look like you expect the bushes to attack.”
Etzel glanced at a nearby bush. Neris groaned. “Seriously?”
“It moved.”
“The wind.”
“That’s what it wants us to think.”
She walked away. Etzel smiled. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to relax. Mostly.
DK and Saeva remained inside Soul Space. There was no reason to manifest them. That was the plan. A normal day. No dungeon. No anomaly. No monster hunt. No Authority. No mysterious central signature. Just Neris. Food. People.
Etzel sat beneath a tree and checked his communicator. Neris appeared immediately.
“You said normal.”
“I’m reading.”
“You’re checking Hunter news.”
“I contain multitudes.”
She leaned over his shoulder.
The convergence zone remained active. Nineteen confirmed dungeon structures. Seventeen active signatures. No new silence since yesterday. Mass creature movement remained under investigation. Several migration corridors had been closed. Authority teams had reinforced the outer perimeter.
Etzel read the same lines twice. Nothing new. Good. He closed the screen.
Neris stared. “That was fast.”
“I’m trying to become emotionally available.”
“That sounds fake.”
“Extremely.”
Etzel noticed the Hunters among the families quickly. Not because they announced themselves. Because Hunters moved differently. Or maybe Etzel had simply become better at noticing.
A woman near the food tables was E-Rank. One of the older brothers playing ball with the students was D-Rank. Another parent carried himself like someone who had spent too many years expecting violence. C-Rank, probably. And one man—broad shoulders, compact build, no visible weapon but the calm posture of someone who did not need one nearby—was B-Rank.
Etzel relaxed slightly. Good. If something stupid happened, there were capable people here.
The B-Rank man eventually sat beside Etzel. “You Neris’s brother?”
“Unfortunately.”
From across the clearing: “I HEARD THAT.”
Etzel raised his voice. “I SAID FORTUNATELY.”
The man laughed. “Hunter?”
Etzel looked at him. That question had become increasingly complicated. “Technically.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “What Rank?”
Etzel took a drink. “Socially?”
The man smiled. “Ability?”
“Disappointing.”
Neris passed behind them. “HE’S LYING.”
Etzel closed his eyes. The B-Rank Hunter looked amused. “Family support.”
“It’s powerful.”
Neris called back: “YOU’RE WELCOME.”
Etzel pointed after her. “She was raised badly.”
The man laughed again. For a few minutes—Etzel forgot the world was ending in nineteen suspicious pieces.
The warning came as silence. No System message. No scream. The birds stopped.
Etzel’s head lifted. He remained seated. Listened.
Neris was near one of the student groups. Teachers were organizing some game involving ribbons and far too much enthusiasm.
The B-Rank Hunter beside him noticed Etzel’s expression. “What?”
Etzel did not answer immediately. The forest had changed. Not quiet. Empty.
Then something broke in the trees. Heavy. Fast.
Etzel stood. The B-Rank man stood with him.
A figure stumbled through the brush. Male. Hunter equipment. Blood covering one side of his body. He almost fell.
SURVEY RECORD
DETAILS
Classification
Hunter
Rank
D