Without another word, the hunter plunged the needle into the mark on the rogue’s shoulder with practiced grace as if he’d done this countless times before.
The rogue let out a sharp gasp, his body convulsing slightly as the needle pierced the skin.
A moment later, the dark, night elemental energy of the mark began to drain into the glass tube, swirling like captured smoke as it was siphoned from the rogue’s body.
Lassim, still holding his halberd at the ready in case of a sudden attack from the new arrivals, watched in fascination as the green-clad hunter worked.
The rogue’s muscles twitched violently as the mark was removed, but within moments, the dark energy was completely extracted. The rogue collapsed, his strength and body drained, and fell to the ground, breathing heavily but alive.
Even his rat-like features started to fade away with the removal of the mark, but Lassim could still sense that his native element was still considerably weakened, and as a result, their cultivation levels had fallen at least three levels each.
The hunter held up the tube, now filled with the black, swirling essence of the Horned-Rat’s power, and smiled in satisfaction. "One down," he said, his tone light and unconcerned as he capped the tube.
He moved on to the next rogue, repeating the process with the same cool efficiency.
Each time the needle sank into one of the marked cultivators, the dark energy was drawn into the glass vial with a faint hiss.
The rogue cultivators, left drained and weak, slumped to the ground one by one, their eyes glazed and their bodies barely able to move. Whatever power the Horned-Rat’s Favor had given them was gone, leaving them completely powerless.
Lassim, watching the process, couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that came with it. These rogue cultivators had been formidable enemies only moments ago, but now they looked like mere shells of their former selves, drained and defeated.
Also, what were they going to use the collected vials of energy for and why did they even have these tools in the first place?
The hunter with the green cravat continued his work until every last one of the rogues had been stripped of their mark.
He held up the final vial, now full of the swirling black energy, and smiled with a hint of satisfaction. "And that’s the lot of them."
Alistair, still standing near the sealed box of Nevaks, clapped his hands together in approval. "Excellent work, my dear fellow. As always, your work is unmatched."
The shorter hunter gave a small, proud bow, clearly pleased with himself. "Only the finest work for such an esteemed haul, wouldn’t you say?"
Alistair turned back to Lassim and Vaela, his expression polite but distant as he looked through the ice dome still up. "Well then, that about wraps up the cleanup, doesn’t it?"
Vaela, still holding her lance, gave him a hard stare before giving a side-glance to Lassim. Lassim took that as his cue and dissipated the giant ice dome before she responded to Alistair, "What exactly did you just do to them?"
Alistair smiled, but it was the sort of smile one might expect from a practiced nobleman—polite, almost rehearsed. "Ah, nothing to worry about, dear Lady. We simply extracted the tainted energy of the Horned-Rat’s Favor. It’s not something these men should have been dabbling in anyway.
Without it, they’re back to being regular cultivators—harmless, really, as they’ll take ages to recover what was lost or never fully recover at all. I’ll entrust them to your care as they are not beasts and unable to accompany us in the glorious box. Not that we’d have any uses for this riff raff anyways."
Lassim stepped forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. "And what do you do with the energy you extracted?"
Alistair’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he twirled the end of his mustache. "Ah, I thought you might ask that. You see, the energy itself is a resource—one of great value to those who know how to use it properly. Back in our homeland, this sort of thing is quite common.
We use it for alchemical processes, to enhance certain elements, or more specifically, in the cultivation of more advanced tamed-beasts."
"Advanced beasts?" Lassim asked, his brows furrowing.
"Indeed," Alistair replied, nodding as though he were explaining something as simple as the weather. "The Nevaks’ energy—this particular form of the night element—has properties that can help evolve creatures.
You see, on the Western Continent, we wind cultivators specialize in the art of beast taming, as I’m sure you’re familiar, and we’ve found that this energy is quite useful in helping certain species advance to more intelligent forms. It’s a rather civilized arrangement, really."
Lassim crossed his arms, still not entirely comfortable with the concept. "So you use the Nevaks and their energy to… what? Evolve them?"
"Precisely!" Alistair said, his eyes lighting up. "The Nevaks, while dangerous, are quite valuable for this purpose. Their legends and stories are a bit over blown, but that makes it easier for us as people avoid them and don’t particularly go out of their way to look for them.
When one does show up, they become quite the gossip from every looky-loo and curious karen or troubled sects, such as yourselves. The Nevak’s night element is unique in its ability to enhance creatures, making them smarter, stronger, and more useful. We’ve been doing it for generations."
Lassim’s eyes narrowed as he considered himself an ally of beasts and other species after having so many friends among the Drow and even the Spider Princess. "So, you’re saying the Nevaks are nothing more than a resource to you? What do you do, drain them just like these cultivators?"
Alistair waved a hand dismissively, still smiling. "Oh, no, no, no. We don’t simply use them as raw materials, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, once we’ve extracted the energy we need, they are given their own societies—civilized places where they can live in relative peace. They trade their element for the resources they need, and it’s all very mutually beneficial. No harm done."
Lassim couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He had grown up hearing stories about the Nevaks—how they were legendary creatures of darkness and ferocity, descendants of the Great-Horned Rat himself. The idea that they were being farmed for their energy, even if they were allowed to live afterward, seemed… wrong.
"You really expect us to believe they just… live in these societies peacefully after what you’ve done to them?" Lassim asked, his skepticism clear.
Alistair’s smile didn’t falter. "Oh, they’re quite content with the arrangement. You see, once the feral nature of their energy is tamed, they become much more... manageable. It’s in their best interest to cooperate, and they’ve thrived under the system."
Lassim scoffed. "Manageable? Sounds more like you’re controlling them."
Alistair’s green and swirling eyes, indicative of his wind element, flashed with something darker for a brief moment before he quickly smoothed his expression. "It’s a mutually beneficial relationship, my dear fellow. They provide us with what we need, and in return, they are allowed to live in a civilized manner. It’s far better than the alternative, wouldn’t you say?"
Lassim exchanged a glance with Vaela, his discomfort growing. There was something off about the way Alistair spoke—possibly the posh accent.
It reminded him of the sly noblemen from the stories his mother used to read to him as a child, the kind that would smile in your face while plotting the downfall of the hero behind closed doors in their secret society.
But for now, they had no reason to argue. The battle was over, and the hunters had dealt with the Nevaks and the most dangerous aspect of the rogues. Whatever uneasy feelings he had about their methods, Lassim couldn’t deny that they had been effective.
Alistair gave a final, flourishing bow. "Well then, I believe our business here is concluded. Thank you for your assistance in holding them for us until we could arrive to resolve this matter. I assure you, your sect shall be properly compensated for the... cargo we’ve secured today."
Vaela nodded, though her expression was still cautious. "Thanks… for the help."
Alistair chuckled lightly. "Of course, dear lady. And to both of you, do feel free to visit us if you ever find yourselves in the city of Argenthal on the Great Western Continent’s mainland. That is our personal base when we’re not traveling the world on missions. We are the Beast Tamers of the Isle of Westwynn, and I’m sure you’ll find our work most fascinating.
We have branches all over, so finding us should be quite a simple endeavor."
He turned to his companions, who had already all remounted their Nyxborn Unicorns with their regal attire still immaculate despite the rapid chaos of the situation. "Shall we, gentlemen?"
With that, the five hunters gave a final nod to Lassim and Vaela before spurring their mounts forward.
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Just as they had arrived, the Nyxborn Unicorns, their sleek bodies glittering with wind mana, took off with a burst of speed that broke the sound barrier, their hooves barely touching the ground as they shot into the air off into the distance, leaving a trail of pressurized air in their wake as they generated spheres of air that protected them and their riders.
Lassim and Vaela stood in silence for a moment, watching the strange group disappear over the horizon.
"Well," Vaela said, her voice breaking the quiet, "that was… something."
Lassim nodded slowly, his mind still reeling from everything he had just witnessed. "Yeah… something."
They both then turned their attention to the 30 or so rogue cultivators lying helplessly in the sands in front of them with a sigh.