Hunter stepped through the market stalls, his golden boots clicking on the petrified wood flooring. He saw a small, elderly witch desperately clutching a wooden bat-like creature to her chest. She was trembling. Hunter didn't feel the thrill of the hunt; he felt a dull, familiar ache—the same one that whispered that he wasn't doing enough.
"You don't understand the mission," Hunter growled, teleporting behind her, his staff ready to bind her. 6. Hunting Palismen
He didn't run away. Instead, he snapped his staff, using its energy to create a diversion—a blinding flash of light—and forced the fox into a nearby, safe hiding spot, whispering, "Run." Hunter stepped through the market stalls, his golden
The witch hesitated, tears filling her eyes. She knew what "rehabilitation" meant for a palisman—the green goo, the destruction, the quiet. Hunter didn't feel the thrill of the hunt;
Hunter didn't fight dirty—he just fought to win. He snapped the vines with a blast of energy, his mind racing. He was falling behind, and failing meant displeasing Belos. He needed to get a palisman, any palisman.