Ten-Minute Bait

The next morning, the capital’s marketplace buzzed with noise and the scent of spices. Ayato weighed his shopping list—amplification crystals, healing crystals, bandage strips, rope—and… the feeling of being followed.

He stopped in front of a stall selling arrowheads, pretending to browse. A shadowy figure halted three steps behind. Ayato turned.

Cielle. Black cloak covering her frame, half-mask across her face—a stark contrast against the bright morning crowd—ice-blue eyes thin as glass.

“Why are you following me?”

Cielle didn’t answer. She only held his gaze. Within that stare, somehow, meaning took shape: Lys sent me to accompany you. Ayato raised a brow, confirming.

“Lys’s order?”

Cielle nodded once.

Ayato couldn’t help it—he was impressed. He still didn’t understand how it worked, but as long as he stared into those blue eyes, words could flow without sound. He exhaled faintly, silently agreeing.

They continued through the market. In the thick of the crowd, Cielle suddenly took his hand. Ayato jolted.

Cielle tilted her head—pure, innocent confusion: Isn’t this normal, so we don’t get separated?

Ayato glanced at her, then… stayed silent, tightening his grip. They walked like that until his shopping list was done.

A week passed quickly. On the seventh day, Lys opened a meniscus-shaped portal on the stone floor. “Enter,” she said.

Wumm—

The air shifted to moss and damp earth. Fenlareth greeted them with veils of moss and a stream winding beneath roots. At the edge of a clearing, a wolf-eared woman stood waiting.

Ayato reflexively stepped forward, his mouth ahead of reason. “Forest King?!”

The woman smiled—wry, a touch wild. “So you’re still alive, kid.” Her wolf ears twitched faintly. “I am Irea Ferhynne.”

“Vin,” Ayato answered, bowing. “Thank you… back then.”

Who would’ve thought we’d meet again like this.

Irea clapped his shoulder firmly—cold style, yet somehow warm. “Of course.”

“That’s enough teary reunion,” Lys cut in lightly. “Let’s get straight to business: the plan to lure Fenrir.”

Fenrir—the giant wolf—its name drifted like mist among the trees: a black colossus moving in silence, eyes violet as a bottomless well. Shadows followed it from thicket to thicket—wolves born not of flesh, but of darkness.

It despised the light; if it sensed being watched, it vanished into shadow. Thus, the bait must not radiate any aura that would make it hesitate to emerge.

They sat on flat stones as Lys outlined the plan. When it was revealed that Ayato would be the bait, Irea’s brow arched.

“Why not her?” Irea glanced at Cielle.

“Because of her aura,” Lys replied. “Cielle can hide her presence far better than you or I. That means Fenrir won’t hesitate to appear, but…” She turned the earring ring on her ear, “…the moment Cielle uses power to evade, the disguise breaks. Fenrir would flee.”

Irea snorted. “Once it runs, drawing it out again will be far harder.”

“Exactly. Besides, the binding artifact I crafted from your sample—” Lys lifted a small box “—is incompatible with Cielle. Ayato must wear it.”

Irea couldn’t argue. Her gaze shifted to Ayato—worry thinly masked.

Ayato startled, then smiled faintly. In his mind flashed the old forest and bitter training. So even you can show this side, Forest King.

“I can do it,” he said. “Ten minutes. Just be there on time.”

Silence hung. Then Irea—who once barked at him to survive—smiled proudly. “Fine. I’ll entrust that role to you.”

Toward Fenlareth’s deepest teleport stone, Ayato walked behind. Ahead, Cielle held Lys’s hand. When Ayato looked—and was caught peeking—Cielle tilted her head again.

“Is it really necessary… to hold hands?” Ayato asked at last.

“If not, she sometimes vanishes,” Lys answered flatly. “Not fleeing, not teleporting—vanishing. Lost on paths others cannot see.”

Irea nodded. “I once thought it was clingy. Turns out—it’s talent.”

Ayato… understood.

So that’s why you held my hand last week.

At the site, Lys pressed a sigil to the stone floor. Air fractured, unveiling a slim corridor—a portal to the nearest town, about twenty kilometers away. “Fail-safe,” Lys said. “An exit for backup.”

The “backup”: Cielle. She would remain at this teleport point, hiding her aura from start to end. If danger escalated, she’d pull Ayato back via the prepared comm-stone—without ever showing her power before Fenrir.

“This,” Lys handed three items:

A small comm-stone—linked directly to Cielle, for emergencies only.

A marker stone—nail-sized, silver-sealed. “When activated, it transmits coordinates to my channel and Irea’s. Invisible to Fenrir, felt only by us.”

A binding necklace with a yellow gem. “When it glows, it erases Fenrir’s shadows temporarily—so it can’t escape.”

“The order is this,” Lys continued. “First ten minutes, don’t use the necklace. At the tenth minute, activate the marker stone—twist the seal ring twice—then trigger the necklace. Once the marker shines, we’ll jump to your location. If you faint, the marker has a pulse sensor: it triggers automatically at the ten-minute limit.”

Irea tilted her head, inspecting Ayato from head to toe.

“Have you eaten?”

“I’ll eat after this.”

“Don’t faint from hunger.” She rolled her eyes. Then—without warning—she ruffled his hair roughly. “Good work in advance.”

Lys smiled with her eyes. “Briefing’s over.” She and Irea stepped through the portal. “We’ll reposition. Hold for ten minutes. Use the necklace. Then wait.”

“I understand.”

Light swallowed their figures. Silence remained.

Ayato stood alone in the forest. He tightened the necklace, pocketed the comm-stone near his chest, and steadied his breathing.

Ten minutes… enough.

He began the hunt.

Shadow-wolves melded with undergrowth, but Ayato had learned to listen: breath held behind roots, fur brushing against fern tongues, the gap between footsteps too even. One, two, five, twenty—fell cleanly. He didn’t slash excessively; just enough to stir the pack.

When the count neared ninety, the ground before him chilled. The forest’s voice stilled, as if a vast hand had smothered it.

From the dark, eyes appeared first: violet, fathomless. Shadows swelled into wolves all around. Heavy steps of a colossal form closed the distance—silent, certain.

Ayato drew breath.

Finally… you’ve come.