Rangers Endgame

Streaks of morning gold touched Yakeru’s face, stirring him from blissful unconsciousness. He angled his face, eyes adjusting to the cheerful smear of sunlight. The glinting cold swirled at the cave’s mouth, almost in playful patterns, as if beckoning him. The coats had slipped down slightly during the night.

He loosened the tension in his neck, blinking away the sleep.

Sleep. Actual sleep.

It was one of the few nights his trauma hadn’t torn itself from his subconscious to torment his dreams.

He yawned, now registering the weight leaning against him. When he turned, he found Fuyumi’s head resting on his shoulder, sleeping soundly. A strand of dirt-streaked hair fell across her face, catching the serene warmth that meandered inside to kiss her features. Her expression, usually stoic with apathy or narrowed with disdain, had gone unguarded—calm in a way he realized he hadn’t seen before.

His hand went to wake her, but hesitation pulled it back. There was something about the peaceful rise and fall of her form that he couldn’t bring himself to disturb. He let out a slow breath, careful not to shift too much. His arm had long since gone numb, but he ignored it.

Outside whispered with the dry hiss of drifting snow.

“We should get going,” he muttered under his ghostly breath, yet he made no actual effort to move.

The sun climbed over the horizon by the time Fuyumi woke. It came with a quiet breath caught between dream and awareness. Her brows furrowed faintly before her eyes squinted open.

Her blue eyes met his, then trailed down. It took a moment for her to realize she was on him. She lifted her head without acknowledging it, but the faint flush touching her cheeks said something she refused to give voice to.

“How long were you up for?” she asked, more so to change the unspoken subject.

“About an hour,” he answered, standing to stretch, feeling crawling back down his arm.

She shot him a questioning side glare. “And you didn’t think to wake me?”

“You’re awake now,” he said, throwing on his coat and tossing the other to her. “Let’s get moving. Those bloodhounds are still out there.”

She tightened her coat, and they both made their way outside without wasting any more time. The cold eagerly wrapped itself around them. Above, the painfully bright sky was the kind of blue that made distances deceptive. The range’s spine seemed to stretch into forever.

The tracks—theirs and the hounds’—had been wiped away overnight, leaving only the barest of depressions.

The ache in his channels dulled, and his legs tingled, but otherwise he could move.

He tilted his gaze upward to the mountain’s peak. If this were the bloodhounds’ den, Marrow Village would be just on the other side.

It hadn't been an hour into their trudge, and the cold had already clung to their bones. The sky came down in soft clumps, every step sinking just enough to remind them they still had quite a way to go.

They moved at a steady pace, bare sky to their right, harsh terrain to their left. The path wound up and down, left and right—dangerously right. When it narrowed, Yakeru went first, testing each foothold.

A ravine greeted them along the way—not like the gargantuan gorges separating each mountain, more like this area had given way to the elements. An eroded boulder wedged itself between, clinging to both sides.

Yakeru took a step on the rock. It held.

“Watch your step,” he said, fully committing.

“I’m not going to fall,” she answered, stepping onto the makeshift bridge.

He gave her a look, brow slightly cocked.

His implied silence elicited an annoyed look from her. “Just go.”

They crossed together, white dust giving from the extra weight.

Leaving the ravine behind, they moved through minor obstructions until they were presented with a cliff face that walled off their path, but was only a couple of stories high. Fuyumi moved past him without words, drawing upon Armor Killer.

She started by gripping a groove, pulled herself up, then plunged the dagger into the surface so she could find purchase again. She repeated this until she reached a shallow cavity, allowing herself to rest. Yakeru used the same natural grooves and the slits left behind by her dagger to scale. However, the vertical holes made climbing egregiously awkward.

He'd almost reached the cavity when his foot slipped. His heart leapt, and an involuntary yelp fumbled from his mouth as he drilled back into the soft ground with a burst of white fluff. The snow fluttered back in to muffle his groans, back pulsing with a dull throb.

Fuyumi didn’t bother hiding her teasing laugh as he dragged the snow from his face.

“I didn't know you could make a sound like that.” She made sure to rub salt in his wounded pride.

“Neither did I,” he wheezed, heaving himself from the depression.

He shook off the lingering aches and dusted himself off. Head tilted upward, looking past his companion where the cliff face ended, an idea sparked.

Radiance coursed through his lower half, charging with pent-up energy. He dropped into a squat, eyeing the ledge with focus, then launched himself up. The cold whipped against his face as his vertical leap carried him a fraction higher than he’d intended. He further reinforced himself out of reflex before hurtling into the ground with a burst of white.

When the cloud cleared, he patted himself and peered at the distance he’d cleared. Fuyumi swiped the mound on her head and scaled the remaining distance, Yakeru offering a hand, which she took.

After helping her up, he pointed to a slab to rest on. Clearing the snow off, they plopped down, his legs thanking him for the moment of respite.

They unpacked provisions, or what was left of them. The initial separation from Risa and the others had reduced Yakeru’s bread to jagged chunks sprinkled with grains. Fuyumi was left with scraps, nothing decently sized enough to be considered food.

He offered a couple of bits of bread, and she accepted.

Her teeth clacked against its hide, not even chipping it. Yakeru cupped his portion in his hands and blew warmth into it. Though measly, the heat was just enough to soften its texture to crack it with his teeth. Tasteless grain rolled around in his mouth. Fuyumi followed his example, and the two ate.

For some reason, these moments made the mountain feel like it was something to navigate, not endure.

A breeze meandered past them, frigid air pressing against their skin through the tears in their coats. They cut their break short and stored the rest of their food to keep moving.

The journey afterward had been uneventful for the most part, the terrain not posing much challenge for the rangers.

Another short climb, and they ended up at a large boulder jutting at an awkward angle, shards of its surface scattered in the snow. The wound was fresh.

They kept moving until a familiar valley came into view around the corner.

Red-dyed snow. Shattered stone. The gaping hole.

The battlefield had been left exactly how it was when they’d fallen into that pit. They glanced at one another before moving again. Snowfall had softened the craters made in the battle’s wake. A couple of bloodhounds lay still where they’d tried to force a breach in Risa’s defenses.

However, there was something different about them this time, not just the joints stiffening from frost. Their flesh had caved inward, mummifying their corpses.

A chill crawling down his neck, he retraced his steps back to the circle formation, then panned his gaze until it landed on something in the distance. He walked over, the engagement echoing harmlessly around him as his mind replayed the chaos.

His steps took him to the trail of quiet ruin left behind by the pale white bloodhound. An inspecting hand brushed against a stone that’d been bisected. Clean and smooth. Unlike the ragged remnants of rocks caused by the other hounds.

Fuyumi knelt beside him, examining the rocks. “The alpha.”

“I figured,” he assumed. “It seemed like it had more control over its primal instincts than the others.”

She looked at him. “You saw it?”

“Only briefly,” he said, standing. “You know these things better than I do. Any intel on them?”

She studied the rocks closer. “Besides the obvious—stronger—there’s one other thing that separates them from their followers.”

He looked at her, waiting.

“We’ve seen everything an A-tier bloodhound is capable of.” She inspected a shard of rock. “But studies have found that S-tiers develop an extra organ that houses dormant blood.”

“Function?” he inquired.

“Don't know,” she answered, tossing the shard back into the fluff. “No one has seen it utilized. Research on the subject is incomplete since S-tier bloodhounds have become a rarity in recent centuries. The best working theory is that it serves as some kind of backup when they exhaust their normal reserves.”

He let this new information sit for a second. Even if the organ did serve as a backup, he doubted they could push a bloodhound to that extreme. Not even with Risa and the others.

“Let’s keep going,” he eventually said.

The two proceeded farther down the narrow valley. Eventually, they’d come across soft tracks leading back towards the village. Some were hurried, but measured. Others wild, more feral, like creatures in hot pursuit.

Dread tightened in Yakeru’s chest. The longer they followed, the more anxious he got. What would the village look like when they arrived?

More bodies. Fur singed and flesh scorched. And the flesh wrinkled like the ones before.

It seemed Risa had fended them off, but did her flowers have another side effect?

They continued forward. Something fanned into view, halting them in their tracks. Half an hour of trudging had brought them before a blockade of collapsed boulders torn from the colossal wall to their right. A bloodhound wasn't very lucky to escape, pinned helplessly beneath its weight.

Yakeru could only assume Risa and the others caused this to cover their escape.

He scanned the area for another way across. A ledge to their left with a jagged spire rising from the depths. He peered over its edge. A glistening sheet of ice that was likely once a lake.

“We’ll need to backtrack,” Fuyumi sighed, looking back at the way they came.

“Unfortunately.”

As they started moving, the pinned bloodhound sprang to life. Yakeru and Fuyumi whirled around, hands ready to draw their blades, but the weakened hound still couldn’t muster the strength to pry itself free. Yakeru kept his hand resting on his hilt. Fuyumi tightened her grip on hers, but remained at his side. Contemplation flickered across her features.

They watched as the hound flailed its only able arm with occasional whines. It gave up, blood splashing against the ground.

“Let's finish it,” Yakeru advised. “I don’t want to risk this thing somehow getting free.”

Fuyumi nodded. They took one step and froze. Yakeru’s chest grew heavy with the same unbridled pressure as before. His mind screamed for him to move, but his body wouldn’t respond.

Fuyumi trembled at his side, eyes wide with heightened awareness.

A rock shifted atop the rubble one moment. The next, it was in two in a flash of scarlet. A razor-thin thread slithered downward to the struggling bloodhound, burrowing into its flesh. Slow. Deliberate.

The beast flailed violently, limbs contorting, as its fur withered and skin wrinkled. The thread siphoned every ounce of blood before pulling itself out and disappearing from behind the debris.

A beat.

Then an unsatisfied growl.

Then, fur, pale as snow, moved from beyond the rubble. The beast’s head rose first, toothy grin wide. Then its broad shoulders. It scaled with predatory grace, beady eyes locked on the two rangers who’d foolishly offered themselves to it.

Yakeru forced his body to respond, drawing his sword. He didn’t hear steel unsheathing to his side. When he looked over, Fuyumi was still. Not with fear. Petrifying recognition. Her gaze locked onto the white bloodhound with haunted familiarity.

One of its eyes burned an intense, thoughtful red. The other was half-lidded beneath exposed, twisted flesh.

A burn scar.