The docks of Vale were eerily quiet this late at night, the usual buzz of sailors and traders long gone. The mist rolling in from the sea clung to the air like a suffocating shroud, muffling the sound of Jaune's footsteps as he navigated the maze of crates, warehouses, and abandoned fishing boats.

Isolde's words still weighed on his mind: "You'll need to vanish from the entire kingdom."

Vanishing wasn't as easy as she made it sound. Every step Jaune had taken to build his reputation now worked against him. Every fence, informant, and broker he had relied on could now be a liability. His name wasn't just whispered in the alleys of Vale anymore—it was etched into the minds of dangerous people. The Silent Hunter was proof of that.

Jaune adjusted the pack on his shoulder, his fingers brushing against the map Isolde had given him. She had marked several possible safehouses in remote areas, places where he could lay low and plan his next move. But first, he needed a way out of Vale. The rail lines were too heavily patrolled, and the main roads too exposed. The docks were his only chance.

He crept toward a cargo ship moored at the farthest end of the pier, its deck dimly lit by lanterns swaying in the breeze. It was an old vessel, a merchant ship by the looks of it, with a crew that had likely retired for the night. If he could stow away, he'd have a chance to slip out of the city unnoticed.

As he neared the gangplank, Jaune paused, his instincts flaring. Something wasn't right. The silence wasn't natural—it was deliberate. He crouched behind a stack of barrels, scanning the area. His eyes caught a flicker of movement in the fog, a shadow slipping between the crates.

He wasn't alone.

Jaune's pulse quickened as he reached for his dagger. He hadn't heard a single footstep or creak of the dock. Whoever it was, they were good. Too good.

The Silent Hunter.

Jaune swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had hoped to buy himself more time, but the Hunter was relentless. He had no choice now but to confront him. Running would only make him more predictable.

He moved quietly, circling around the barrels to get a better view. The fog was thick, but he caught glimpses of the Hunter's silhouette—tall, cloaked, and moving with purpose. Jaune felt a chill run down his spine.

"Are you just going to keep hiding?" Jaune called out, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his chest.

The shadow paused, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then the Hunter stepped into the faint glow of a lantern, his hood still obscuring most of his face.

"You're smarter than I expected," the Hunter said, his voice calm and deliberate. "Most would have bolted by now."

Jaune tightened his grip on the dagger but didn't draw it. "Most don't have as much practice as I do. Who sent you?"

The Hunter tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," Jaune replied, his tone sharp. "I like to know who I'm up against."

The Hunter didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, his boots barely making a sound against the wooden planks. "You've made a lot of enemies, Arc Phantom. Enough that there's no shortage of people who'd pay a fortune to see you gone."

Jaune smirked, masking the unease building inside him. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

The Hunter stopped a few paces away, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at his side. "You're clever, Jaune. But cleverness only gets you so far. You've crossed a line, and now you're in a world where the rules are different. Where men like me don't stop until the job is done."

Jaune's smirk faded. The weight of the Hunter's words hit harder than he expected. This wasn't just a bounty or a contract. This was a hunt.

"Funny," Jaune said, taking a cautious step back. "I've spent my whole life breaking rules. Why start following them now?"

Before the Hunter could respond, Jaune moved. In a flash, he hurled a small pouch of powder from his coat—a trick Isolde had taught him. The pouch exploded into a cloud of thick, choking dust, obscuring the Hunter's vision.

Jaune didn't wait to see the results. He bolted, darting between crates and barrels, his footsteps muffled by the fog. He heard the Hunter cough, a faint sound that told him he had bought himself a few precious seconds.

The ship was his only chance now. He sprinted up the gangplank, his boots thudding against the wooden boards. Once on deck, he ducked behind a stack of crates, scanning the pier below. The fog swirled, and for a moment, there was no sign of the Hunter.

But then he heard it—a soft, deliberate scrape of a boot against wood.

Jaune barely had time to react as the Hunter leapt onto the deck, his movements swift and fluid. The man's blade glinted in the lantern light as he advanced, his steps measured and unyielding.

"You're resourceful," the Hunter said, his voice calm despite the dust still clinging to his cloak. "But resourcefulness won't save you."

Jaune drew his dagger, the blade feeling light in his hand. He met the Hunter's gaze, his blue eyes blazing with defiance. "Let's find out."

The two circled each other, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. Jaune's mind raced as he calculated his options. The Hunter was faster, stronger, and better armed. But Jaune had something the Hunter didn't: desperation.

The first strike came fast—a blur of steel as the Hunter lunged. Jaune barely managed to deflect it, the clash of their blades ringing out across the deck. He twisted, using his smaller frame to slip out of the Hunter's reach, but the man was relentless, pressing forward with calculated precision.

Jaune fought back, his movements quick and unpredictable. He ducked, weaved, and countered, using the crates and rigging to his advantage. But the Hunter was unrelenting, his strikes coming closer and closer to finding their mark.

A sudden shift in the ship's deck gave Jaune an idea. He feinted left, drawing the Hunter toward a stack of unsecured crates. As the Hunter lunged, Jaune kicked the crates with all his strength, sending them tumbling toward his pursuer.

The Hunter dodged, but the distraction was enough. Jaune bolted for the edge of the ship, grabbing a rope and swinging over the side. He landed hard on the pier below, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He didn't stop to look back. He ran, disappearing into the fog.

The Hunter watched from the deck, his blade still in hand. For the first time, his calm expression faltered, replaced by something sharper.

"This isn't over," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.