Hooves struck ancient cobblestone in a haphazard staccato as the six blue elk led the funeral procession down the solitary road. Their muscles rippling beneath mottled blue hides splattered with flecks of orange and red. Metal crests, one for each of the various lodges and hunts, hunt from their antlers, swaying with the panted efforts of the beasts. Save for these sounds, a heavy silence had fallen over the various hunters that had come to pay their respects to their late lord.

The procession had been heralded by an autumn heat, the last vestiges of summer, waned as the sun burned upon the edge of the horizon with oranges and pale yellows. The light dancing and merging with the night in the never-ending cycle of the universe.

Many of the hunters that now stood around Antar had spoken of the alignment of Urdon’s three moons. The auspiciousness of the celestial event coinciding with the funeral of Apex Relia was seen as a testament to the Lord hunter’s favor with the old hunter. To Antar, the moons only served to outline the squat pyramidal form of the ziggurat that sat at the road’s terminus. The blackened surface of the tracker’s moon magnified the dirty orange slabs that made up the ziggurat’s surface. The moon, the largest of the three siblings, loomed over the ziggurat. Its lesser sibling, the hunter’s moon, was a thick crescent of silver adorned by the slayer’s moon like a bloody crown.

Dropping his gaze, he waited as the hoverbarge drifted ever closer. The soft whirring of its repulsors growing ever louder. Soon they’d be kicking up leaves and bits of loose gravel. Antar had already seen the barge. It was a thing of dark wood, polished until it was smooth as glass. Its dark burgundy surface had seemed to soak in the artificial light, drawing its brilliance into the thick bands that striped its body while it’s the enameled railing and sides glinted. The metal was curved and had a flowing nature to it. Embossed within its surface were ornate depictions of past hunts -the order’s former glories. They were meant to inspire, but they did little to improve Antar’s sour, sorrowful mood.

Now standing there on the side of the road, along with his fellow jaegryn, his guts tightened into a knot he was certain would never come undone. There were many around him who remained impassive, having witnessed this procession several times before. He watched through red streaked eyes as the barge approached.

Today the order mourned the loss of an Apex, but to Antar the man now placed within the barge was so much more. Mentor. Friend. Confidant. Pack mate. None of these seemed adequate to define everything the older man had been to him. Instead, they seemed only reductive.

Antar, along with the other jaegryn who now lined the solitary road, had watched this procession several times before. He watched through red streaked eyes as the bow approached. The front of the ship was fashioned into the horrid visage of the chalice beast. Its boar-like face flanked by two long jutting tusks the size of a great sword glared at those before it. Strange how such a monster, one that had nearly destroyed the order in its youth, was now paraded like a guardian to the dead.

What was more unnerving to Antar was the way its snout was splayed open. As if the creature was ready to take up its old ways at any moment. As it approached, he could see the line of fangs that ran up its snout and then curving down its throat. An aberration if he’d ever seen one. There were some who believed that this was the original skull and vessel that had bore Kaida centuries prior.

As the barge passed, Antar’s eyes were drawn to the lanterns that hung upon the posts on top of the barge. There were nine in total. No more. No less. This was the decree of the Lord Hunter himself. All save one burned with a smoldering intensity. The emotions he’d struggled to carry broke free upon seeing the blackened emptiness of the lantern that represented Apex Relia.

Those hunters directly around him remained stoic. Antar’s knees trembled, and he clenched his stinging eyes shut. Heavy, panted, racking breaths surged in and out of him like a tide before a storm. A hand clasped his shoulder. He lifted his face to see a blue skinned mano’an woman he’d never seen before. She gave his shoulder a firm grasp. Their eyes met, and she made a short, firm nod. He took a deep breath, appreciating the support. While he might not know the other jaegryn around him, they were all bound together. One in the blood. The old song whispered in his mind.

The barge drifted by, winding down the road before slipping into the shadows of the ziggurat. Pack by pack, the jaegryn left until he was the only one remaining. Yet he lingered, having decided to wallow in his sorrow for the moment. Above, the stars appeared, as the world was adorned in regal shadows. The star’s faded light shimmered in listless isolation in the murky astral sea above. He remembered venturing through that dark astral sea with Relia. The man who’d found him and had chosen to take him under his tutelage and transform him from a vagabond into a purpose driven monster hunter.

Heavy mechanical footsteps disturbed the silence. The soft hydraulic whisper told Antar who’d come to fetch him. It was sage Lokin. Antar grunted. No doubt the old veteran had come to chastise him. He’d said something to the effect that all things die and there was much killing left to do or some other wisdom that Antar wasn’t really in the mood to hear. The steps stopped several paces behind him.

“Sage Lokin.” Antar said in a respectful but clipped tone.

“You’re late.” Came the synthetic reply.

Antar’s hands clenched, yet he held his anger in check. He knew he was overly emotional right now and any choices he’d like to make were best left not acted upon. The old veteran who’d been dead longer than Antar had been alive was set in his ways. Taking his spirit and transforming him into an acrena had only further solidified him. He was a rut in the universe that refused to be filled in.

“I was preoccupied.”

Clomp.

Clomp.

Clomp.

Sage Lokin lumbered up next to Antar, leaving him cast in shadows. Antar eyed the sage as his head rose, making a clicking noise as it did. The old veteran gazed up into the sky above, his head swiveling in a slow, ponderous arc as he appraised the heavens. Antar wondered if the old master knew where in the sky to look to see the world where his body had died upon. That particular idea sent a shiver up Antar’s spine while also causing his brow to crease. Why didn’t they do that when an Apex died? Creating acrena was the Dominion’s way of either forcing the unfaithful to repent to the Imperial Goddess for wasting their lives or to keep the valued servants around so that their wisdom and knowledge wasn’t lost within the talons of death.

“Do you know the last thing Apex Relia asked of me?”

Antar’s chin tilted up as curiosity bubbled up within him. It grew, coming to dominate the sorrow and grief that had clung to him. It was a potent shelter against the storm he’d endured these last several days.

“He gave me orders to have you prepared for the Shadow Taming.”

Antar’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked several times, his mind trying to process what he’d just heard. He shook his head, a slight tremble that turned into an enthusiastic refusal to believe the Lokin’s words. Antar was too young. Only in his mid-fifties. He was still young. Most jaegryn weren’t considered undertaking the sacred ritual, at least until they're seventies and when they’d served the order for forty years.

He wasn’t a green hunter by any means, having slicked his blade’s thirst upon the throats of many monsters, but he wasn’t a master, nor did he have any right to that claim. What did he know of the wider imperial territory beyond his home region?

“He predicted you’d have that same response. I believe that’s why he chose you.”

“His faith in me ins appreciated.” Antar said, knowing that the now late Apex’s opinion held little when compared to their god’s own.

Sage Lokin let out a mechanical chuckle. The sound was as low and grating as it was synthetic. Little of the original man remained, save for his intense and unrelenting spirit. The sage lifted his leg, his hip point reorienting him so that he was now facing Antar.

“You’ve been confirmed.”

The world froze for a small eternity as those worlds echoed within Antar’s soul. Confirmed? By the Lord Hunter, himself? He snapped his head up towards Lokin’s flat, featureless face. The old veteran sat there, unmoving. He’s serious. That thought caused Antar to straighten. If he was good enough for the Lord Hunter and Apex Relia, then he only had one thing he could do. Accept and prove their judgment right.

“How long do I have?”

Sage Lokin took several steps, turning his considerable mass towards the ziggurat. Antar stepped up next to him, peering into the sky as Lokin pointed up to the three moons.

“You have until their light runs out. Upon the zenith of their darkness, you will enter the Ziggurat of the Celestial Hunt and attempt the Shadow Taming.”

Antar nodded, noting the word attempt. The shadow taming was one of the most deadly rites within the Shikari Order. Unlike the other rites that purged those too weak to become a Jaegryn, the shadow taming purged those jaegryn who weren’t enough to earn the respect of an elderbeast. The labyrinthine corridors were no doubt littered with the broken remains of those who had failed to live up to Lord Hunter’s standards for his beastbarons and apexes.

“Train me.”

Without another word, Sage Lokin walked away, and Antar followed.

****

The cold air of the ziggurat’s interior seemed into Antar’s exposed skin. Goosebumps broke out across his flesh as he padded down the stone corridor. Everything was pitch black, smothered and coated in shadows so deep that even his enhancements couldn’t pierce their veil. Instead, he was forced to rely upon his other senses. His foot shifted across the stone floor, stopping when he touched the jagged edge of something. Kneeling down, he grabbed the hard edge and quietly ascertained that it was another broken ribcage. Thus far, that had been all he’d run into. Skulls, broken leg bones, or the fractured remnants of ribcages and spines. Ruinous reminders of the fate that would befall him if he didn’t succeed. 

As he made his way deeper into the rough stoned labyrinth, he cursed the loud echoes of his breathing, but trying to suppress his breathing would only exacerbate the issue. All he could do was keep an open ear, waiting for the moment when one of the elderbeasts decided to attack. They were nearby. He knew it from the stench. His foot slid across the two rough scars that had been gouged into the floor. No doubt an angered elderbeast had inflicted them. He felt around working on confirming a suspicion. After feeling the surrounding walls, he concluded the jaegryn had died from an attack from above. They have unseen vantage points.

It made sense. That meant there was likely one or more watching him right now. Judging whether he was worthy to continue forward. He straightened his spine. There was nothing he could do about it. Once more, he pushed further and further into the ziggurat, hoping that he’d reach the inner chamber before any of his stalkers became dissatisfied with him.

For the next several hours, he made his way deeper into the darkness. Stopping only when he came to a crossroads. Sage Lokin had insisted he memorize the layout of the ziggurat. Something he’d taken to with enthusiasm. Along with the sensory deprivation training, he might have an actually had a fighting chance. So did all the others. He thought as his hand brushed against a skull that had been nailed to the wall.

He knew the elderbeasts were smart, but he hadn’t ever really interacted with one. What he actually knew of them were the rumors. How insightful and knowledgeable they were. They were the advisors and guides to all beastbarons and apexes alike. One could hold neither of those positions without having earned the respect of an elderbeast. It was said that the elderbeasts were the divine beasts created by the Lord Hunter’s own hand.

Antar stopped at another intersection. His hands brushed against the stone as he searched for the various markers etched into the walls. He paused, tilting his head. There was a faint scraping sound. He stiffened as he realized the sound was nearby. The silence that surrounded him was deafening. The scraping sound grew louder as the creature must have realized he knew it was there.

A low growl rumbled through the hall off to his left. He stepped back, pressing himself against the wall. Through the taught muscles in his back, he felt the emblem he’d been searching for. He clenched his eyes shut as his face screwed up in frustration. He was supposed to go down the hall the elderbeast was now lurking in.

This wouldn’t be so hard if they’d let me take my weapons. He grumbled to himself, knowing that was the point. Any jaegryn worth their blood could fight a creature if they were prepared. That’s why only the exceptional could join the ranks of a beastbaron.

Antar listened. The creature was rubbing up against the wall. Should he go around another way and try to double back? He immediately struck down that idea. That was a good way to get himself lost. The labyrinth was large enough that he could travel for days without retracing his steps.

Should he wait? 

The creature let out another rumble. Antar clenched his fists. He’d have to press forward. It was the only path worthy of the title as a jaegryn. Taking a deep breath, he settled his mind. He’d heard rumors that elderbeasts could sense emotions. He shoved the thoughts away. They did nothing but hinder him at this point.

Taking a step forward, he steeled himself. The elderbeast growled. A low, deep rumble that now filled the halls. Its hot breath wreaked of rot and fetid flesh. Antar passed into its stench as he continued forward. Bile rose in his throat as tears stung the edges of his eyes. This was beyond anything he’d ever smelled before. Gutted monsters whose remains spilled out or the decayed remnants of people, but none of that compared to the pungent stench what he was enduring now.

With each step came a knowing that it could very well be his last. Now the rumble intensified. No longer a low threat, but a raw, furious wail.

“Leave!”

The word was distorted, ripped out from an alien throat. Yet the message was clear. Antar hesitated. Should he respect the wishes of this sacred beast, or was this a test? Antar shook his head. Relia, what have you gotten me into? There were no clear instructions on what to do. All Sage Lokin had told him was to follow his gut. Clenching his teeth, he took another step forward. Jaws snapped like an iron trap. Antar lowered his head, determined to make it through.

“Leave or die!”

Antar could feel the elderbeast’s long shaggy hair brushing against him. The creature’s body nearly filled the passage. He pressed himself against the wall as he continued forward. Before long, he passed the creature’s considerable bulk. Its thick tails slapped against the wall before him. This time he didn’t stop, but merely slowed until he was sure he knew the rhythm of its swings. He passed without incident.

He continued down the corridor, pausing only every ten steps or so to ensure the thing wasn’t following. He realized now that the encounter had been a test. Hopefully, I passed. Yet he wasn’t willing to let his guard down. The situation had confirmed that the elderbeasts were, in fact, watching him and actively testing him.

****

Antar’s muscles were sore. Sleeping against the cold stones while only catching interspersing snippets of sleep had left his body drained. He realized now that the elderbeasts had likely planned this. Wearing him down until each and every nerve was frayed. Then, when he was at his weakest, they’d get the drop on him.

Now, as he traversed the passageway, he uses his hands to lean against the wall. No longer simply using them as a guide, but more and more than support. Was it like this for all recruits? Did they usher them forward towards the central chamber where they’d determine if he was worthy of being their master or their meal?

Part of him knew it had to be something else. While the recruitment for beastbaron was sparse, considering the order’s total numbers, the number was still dozens in the planet’s standard year. While the Lord’s of the Hunt, those valiant Apex’s that kept their order going, were always limited to nine, the beastbarons were a different story. Their numbers always had to be numerous. Always ready to fill in the gap when an Apex died. Thus always keeping the Lord Hunter’s commandment.

These thoughts didn’t bring him reassurance but instead made him feel as though he were standing upon shifting sand. Sands that contain vipers. Shaking the thoughts away, he enjoyed the warmth that crept into his muscles from the movement. 

His fingertips slid into a small groove in the wall. Following its curved edges, he found it to be a circle. His brow creased as he concentrated, pressing his aching fingers until he could get a good sense of the detail. Tracing the circle again, he found it. 

The beginning.

The end.

It was an ouroboros. He could just make out the head that was swallowing the tail. The only distortion to the otherwise circular emblem. He lingered there for a moment, thinking back to those previous months when he’d lingered there on the road. Back then, standing on the side of the road, he’d been lost, not knowing how to press forward. How to go on without Relia’s wisdom and insight.

What sort of universe took that away? How could he be expected to go on without such a mentor? Worst still, he was approaching the point where he’d start to be seen as one himself. How could a blind and deaf man lead others?

Yet now he understood. Relia hadn’t left him. At least not alone. Being a wise man, he’d anticipated Antar’s need. Sage Lokin had said as much. Relia had come to his aid, had laid out the path and as always, it hadn’t been easy and it could very well kill him, but if he could survive. If he could enter the next chamber and convince one of the elderbeasts that he was worthy, then he will have succeeded in living up to his old pack leader’s expectations.

Ready or not…

Antar strode forward, his hand only brushing the wall as he turned the corner. A dozen paces on the wall sloped off, curving away. He dropped his hand. This was the central chamber. He waited in silence. Patient as any hunter should be. 

Then all at once light erupted, searing flashes of brilliance that stung his light starved retinas. He clenched his eyelids shut and tilted his head to the side. That was the only movement he would allow himself. Slowly, he forced himself to turn towards the light. Allowing its brilliance to piece his eyelids. Then he cracked his eyes open. Widening them bit by bit until he could handle the light.

“Enter the circle.”

The voice was low and rumbled through the room. It vibrated through Antar’s chest and bones. Yet he didn’t flinch. He’d come this far and he wasn’t about to give in to the fear that coiled in his stomach. Instead, he stepped forward, entering into a ring of torches. The flames erupted, growing higher than their amber light stained the surrounding room. He gasped as he saw the room in its fullness.

Elderbeasts surrounded him. Dozens upon dozens of eyes glinted in the firelight, each seeming to stare down at him. Pale bone faces contrasting against dark shaggy fur. Each beast sat upon a block of stone as though it were a throne. These makeshift thrones jutted up at varying heights. The thrones were ringed the entire room, those in front, closest to him, were lower while each consecutive row beyond was higher.

Movement caught his attention, and he saw several of the sacred beasts skulking just beyond the firelight. Their bodies half concealed by the dancing shadows. They circled him like a pack who’d trapped their prey. His heart slammed against his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He was trapped. There was no way out. 

He’d reached the end of the road.

The scraping sound off to his left caught his attention. The elderbeasts that sat upon that throne leaned forward, its claws digging into the stone. Tusks jutted out

Twin horns hung low over its brow, arcing up and away as its snout curved down into a long serrated beak.

Antar narrowed his eyes, trying to see past the flames. For a moment, the image of the chalice beast flashed across his mind as he gazed up at the enormous beast enthroned before him. It too had long tusks that jutted from its mouth, something none of the other visible elderbeasts seem to have. Yet unlike the chalice beast this creature was decidedly more draconic, though with a shaggy gray coat of fur. There were patches of missing fur where scars riddled its enormous body in haphazard patterns. No doubt a sign of those who’d thrown themselves against the beast and had found it unyielding.

It tilted its head so that it was now sideways. An icy cold shot through Antar’s stomach as he saw the elderbeast’s leathery lips running down into its throne. Just like the chalice beast. The creature locked one solitary eye with him. His heart pounded in his chest as it locked its eye upon him. There was an ancientness within those pools of molten gold. Antar didn’t know how he knew this, but only that whatever this elderbeast before him was, it made Sage Lokin seem young.

“State your name.”

The words were just still strange and gnashing, yet there was a higher pitch to it. Antar knew at once this was one of the females.

“Jaegryn Antar.”

His answer echoed out amongst the host of beasts. Those circling him growled as they continued to circle just beyond the fires.

“From where do you hail?”

“Skipiar.”

There was a low rumble as the elderbeasts discussed this amongst themselves. The female slammed her tail against the stone and silence fell. Antar eyed the jagged bone-like protrusions that ran along that tail. This elderbeast was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

“Who has summoned you?”

Antar blinked. Under whose authority did he proclaim himself? Seeing that the host before him were the divine beasts of the order’s god, the safe and righteous answer was:

“The Lord Hunter.”

The lead elderbeast snapped its jaw. It’s clashing, sounding like distant thunder. The motion was so swift, so powerful, that Antar knew it could easily crush him. Even with his enhancements, his body was frail compared to the power of this creature.

“We are all bound by the will of our lord. Under whose summons have you come?”

Antar blinked. Before he could open his mouth, another voice rose in the back.

“I have called him.”

The voice was deep and rich and had a far more normal quality to it than any of the others. The elderbeast had been seated beyond Antar’s ability to see but a moment later he saw it crawling between the thrones, claws scraping as it wove its way towards him. There was a general uproar as the room was filled with hisses and roars, growls, and scraping claws.

The two elderbeasts that had been circling Antar stopped on either side of him, allowing room for the newcomer as it entered the circle.

“You have not fulfilled your time.” A nearby elderbeast hissed at the newcomer.

The elderbeast that had apparently called Antar was much smaller than the others. Bony protrusions ran from spine to tail, their pale coloring contrasting with its otherwise black fur. It craned its long neck up towards the elderbeast who had spoken to it. The speaker was now halfway down its perch, its claws digging into the rock as it leered down at the elderbeast who’d summoned him.

“You are small. Weak. You need sustenance.”

The summoner grunted.

“Are you questioning the words of the Lord Hunter?”

The accuser, along with the other elderbeasts, snapped their jaws, mimicking the leader, though the effect was decidedly unlike hers.

“No, only the messenger.”

“If you find me unfit, then test your fangs and claws and see if I relent.”

“Enough!” The leader roared, her claws slamming down upon her throne, their tips puncturing into the stone. 

Antar’s blood ran cold. What was going on? How had he found himself in this predicament? Caught up in some unknown rivalry between elderbeasts. It was a position he didn’t want to be in, least of all, without his armor and weapons. 

The female swung her head down towards the one who had summoned him. Her eye was upon him now. The smaller elderbeast didn’t flinch, but held her gaze. A potent silence fell upon the room. Nobody moved. The air was electric and for a moment Antar thought the two would fight. Then all at once, the spell was broken as the female lifted her head and roared.

“Let the final ritual begin.”

The ground rumbled, and the flames were pulled away until they were pressed up against the walls. The two elderbeasts that had been circling him slunk away, their dark hides disappearing in the darkness between the thrones. Antar turned to the elderbeasts that had apparently summoned him and saw the beast crouched low.

“Let us see what your master has taught you.” The beast roared as it lunged forward.

Antar dove to the side, rolling out of the way. The terrible sound of the beast’s claws raking the ground echoed behind him. He jumped up. Landed. Spun. Ducked as a tail swiped the air. His eyes darted across the room, searching for a weapon.

His search was interrupted by a roar. Large open jaws filled the air before him. White serrated fangs flashing before him. He cursed as he threw his hands out and grabbed the snout and lower jaw. Hear. A searing heat. It filled his hands as blood welled up from where the fangs punctured through.

He gritted his teeth through the pain. He couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. He had to prove Relia right. Had to honor the Lord Hunter. His muscles strained as the elderbeasts worked to close its jaw. Days of fatigue burned like foul pollutants within his muscles. How much of this could he endure?

The elderbeast’s body curled up, preparing to rush forward. He leaned to the side as he brought his hands down and to the side. A pained shout was torn from his throat as his hands ripped free from their fanged prison. The beast shot past. Antar backed away, keeping his eyes on the creature.

A quick glance at his hands told him the blessings placed upon him were already working to knit the chunks of flesh back together. All around him, the elderbeasts shouted, roars and words mixed into a deafening incoherent rumble that caused Antar to wince. He stopped back, but found his foot hitting the wall before he could steady himself. Instead, he chose to sidle along the arch, working to put as much distance between the elderbeasts and himself.

The elderbeast came at him again. Throwing its jaws, swing its claws, slashing with its tail, over and over again. Antar struggled to keep the distance between them. The elderbeast was wearing him down. Yet he forced himself to continue dodging and rolling to the side, a blur slightly faster than his attacker.

His muscles aches and refused to budge, causing the tail to slam into him. He shot across the small arena and collided into the wall with a crack.

As Antar slumped to the ground, his thoughts trudged through his murky, swampy mind. How could any jaegryn endure this? Even with all their enhancements, blessings, and augmentations, no jaegryn could endure such punishment. There could only be death.

Antar spit. A thick glob of darkness stained the floor. Every breath ached, and his chest was constricted. He gasped as a rib popped out, snapping back into place. It was a sensation he’d endured before. Yet never had he endured it under the crushing weight of such fatigue. 

Those days without sleep smothered him. Blowing out the inferno of his strength as though it were a candle’s flame. Yet he knew this was all by design and so he made the only choice a jaegryn could make.

He pushed himself up.

Bloodied. Broken. One arm hanging limp at his side. The other burned with every twitch and spasm. He’d heal… eventually, but there wasn’t time for that. His fight, his survival, his destiny was here and now. He staggered forward, planted his foot and roared at the elderbeast before him.

The black shadow of its body hurtling toward him was the last thing he saw.

****

Sage Lokin stood gazing down at the road below. It was a blackened smudge upon the otherwise pristine wilderness that surrounded the ziggurat. The spirit within the machine, Lokin himself, sighed, but the sound came out as an electronic hiss he didn’t recognize. His sensors told him a breeze was pressing itself against him, but he couldn’t feel it.

In these quiet moments, he wondered if his younger self would recognize the jaegryn he’d become if he hadn’t been killed out on Urjabu. Damned Raskalor. He thought as he shifted from side to side. It was a habit of his humanity. Something the software and circuitry that held his soul couldn’t get rid of. Somewhere deep down, he knew that becoming a jaegryn demanded a sacrifice. Not the kind that all the other inquisitionary or military forces spouted on about.

No.

Being a jaegryn was a demand to sacrifice one’s humanity. That was the first law of the hunt, after all. Those who fight monsters must see to it they become one’s themselves. As a sage, he understood the truth of the words spoken by their Lord Hunter. This world was dark and demanding in its brutality. Only one who could gaze back at the uncaring abyss and not flinch could endure.

The sound of stone scraping pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his body to the entrance. He stood in the silence, waiting for the answer to Antar’s fate. Either the hunter would stride out next to an elderbeast or the elderbeast would cast his heart out onto the stone. He’d always found this part of the ritual to be the strangest part of all. Why would beasts care so much about letting them know if the hunter failed?

As he gazed into the shadows, he continued to question this. Why were the elderbeasts the way they were? Their appearance was like those things the order hunted, but at the same time they acted as the highest advisers to the most lofty of positions. They slayed those unworthy to tame them, yet in doing so they ensured the order’s leadership stayed strong and always bent their knee to the Lord Hunter’s designs. It was a conflicting image that was concealing a deeper truth, one that Sage Lokin had yet to puzzle out.

Lokin’s sensors picked up the scratching of claws. His answer was coming. His internal systems clicked out a steady rhythm, a pale replacement for the faithful thumping of his heart. The skull-like face of the elderbeast emerged from the darkness as it lumbered forward. Its neck lowered towards the ground as though it were tracking something. Lokin sighed.

“Another one lost.”

Lokin was about to bemoan the waste, as Antar could have become an acrena like himself, but a second later Antar emerged. The man was somewhat thinner, his muscles having lost much of the definition the enhancements gave. Antar grinned at him.

“You passed.”

“He did.” The elderbeast said with a hint of pride.

Sage Lokin focused on the elderbeast. He’d never seen one that looked so… young? Was that what he was seeing? A younger elderbeast. Those words jumbled together were preposterous. Turning back to Antar, he saw dozens of new scars littering his body. According to his systems internal calculations, there was no way his enhanced healing factor, let along the divine blessing, should have been able to repair all that.

Once more, Sage Lokin wondered what was truly going on within the Ziggurat of the Celestial Hunt. He siphoned the processing power from such idle curiosities as he stepped forward.

“Let me be the first to congratulate you, beastbaron Antar.”