Chapter 57: Distressed Call

Kael was sitting on the corner of the sofa with Noah resting against his chest when his phone began to vibrate across the wood of the coffee table.

In the quiet apartment, the low buzz sounded unusually sharp.

He glanced down at the glowing screen. Marcus Vale.

A small crease formed between Kael’s brows. It was past seven in the evening, and the senior instructor wasn’t the type to make social calls. When they had parted ways in the Association courtyard a few hours ago, Marcus had dismissed the intake until eight the following morning.

Shifting Noah gently into the crook of his left arm, Kael picked up the phone and answered.

"Good evening, Instructor Marcus."

"Kael. Where are you right now?"

There was no greeting in Marcus’s voice—only the flat, clipped cadence Kael had heard at the gate perimeter when the abort siren went off.

"At home, sir. What’s wrong?"

"We have a code red in the eastern industrial district," Marcus said, the muffled wail of a siren bleeding through the line behind him. "A gate breach. The rift destabilized twenty minutes ago, and we have a confirmed dungeon outbreak in progress."

Kael’s spine straightened instantly. "A dungeon break?"

"The containment line gave way before the strike team could seal it. Beasts are spilling out of the yard and into the surrounding blocks," Marcus said rapidly. "The Association has issued a full mobilization order for every licensed and provisional hunter in the city to assist with perimeter lockdown and civilian evacuation."

Across the room, Sera sat at the dining table under the warm glow of the pendant lamp, a charcoal pencil poised over her sketchbook. The moment she heard the shift in Kael’s tone, the pencil stopped moving.

"How bad is the breach?" Kael asked, keeping his voice low and steady.

"Multiple packs have already slipped past the outer fence," Marcus replied. "Preliminary sensor readings indicate they’re mostly low-grade beasts—F-rank and E-rank—but the industrial sector is a maze of warehouses, rail sidings, and shift workers trying to get out in the dark. Local police and site security are already stretched thin."

"What about the high-rank guilds?" Kael frowned. "Don’t they keep strike teams on standby for this?"

"On paper, yes. In reality, half our S-rank and A-rank vanguards are currently deployed overseas for the joint containment summit, and the major clans have their heavy hitters locked inside high-tier gates they can’t abandon without causing a second catastrophe," Marcus said grimly. "Headquarters is recalling everyone they can reach, but until the heavy cavalry gets here, we have to hold the line with the boots we have on the ground."

"So you’re calling in the lower ranks."

"I’m calling in every pair of hands that can hold a flashlight, clear a stairwell, or keep civilians from getting trampled," Marcus said. "C-rank and D-rank squads are forming the inner containment ring. F-ranks and provisional trainees are being assigned to outer evacuation corridors under veteran supervision."

There was a brief pause on the line, heavy enough that Kael could hear Marcus breathing.

"Listen to me very carefully, Kael," the instructor continued, his voice dropping half an octave. "This is not an extension of today’s field trip, and it is not a test. You are an untrained rookie. I am not calling you in to play hero or go hunting in the dark. If you report in, you stay on the outer perimeter, you move civilians to the buses, and you follow your squad leader’s orders to the letter."

Kael looked down. Noah was fast asleep against his collarbone, his tiny fingers curled loosely into the fabric of Kael’s shirt, his breaths warm and even.

Two blocks over from the industrial district were residential tenements—places just like Crestview, filled with families sitting down to dinner who had no idea what had just torn through the security fences down the road.

"Where do you need me?" Kael asked.

"Report to the Association’s emergency assembly bay in thirty minutes," Marcus said. "Bring your provisional badge and standard-issue defensive gear. Nothing you haven’t been cleared to carry. And Kael?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do not mistake a crisis for a chance to prove yourself," Marcus said evenly. "Your job tonight is to help clear the streets and walk back through your front door in one piece. Do we understand each other?"

"Completely, sir. I’m on my way."

The line clicked dead, followed a second later by an automated text containing an emergency transit pass and assembly coordinates.

Kael lowered the phone.

Sera was already standing beside the dining table, her sketchbook closed. Her face was calm, but the color had drained slightly from her cheeks.

"How bad?" she asked softly.

"A gate broke open in the eastern industrial sector," Kael said, rising carefully from the sofa so he wouldn’t jostle Noah. "Monsters got past the barricade. The Association is calling in everyone available to help evacuate the workers and residents before the pack spreads."

Sera stepped over, her arms automatically coming up to take Noah as Kael transferred their son into her embrace. Once Noah was settled against her shoulder, she looked up into Kael’s eyes.

"And Marcus called you?"

"They’re short-handed with the top guilds tied up elsewhere," Kael explained, keeping his tone level. "He wants the provisional recruits on the outer perimeter helping security move civilians to the safe zones. He made it very clear I’m not being sent anywhere near the gate itself."

Sera’s gaze dropped to Noah for a heartbeat, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, before she looked back at Kael. "The hunter you saw today was injured in a low-rank gate that was supposed to be under control. An outbreak means there are no barriers left between those things and the street."

"I know," Kael said quietly.

He didn’t try to brush off her fear with a cheap joke or an empty reassurance. After the conversation they’d had on this very sofa less than two hours ago, doing so would have been an insult to them both.

He reached out, resting his palm against the side of her neck, his thumb brushing her jawline.

"Marcus put me under a veteran C-rank leader on the evacuation line," Kael told her. "I won’t go looking for a fight, Sera. If the line breaks or something comes down our road that we can’t handle, we pull back with the civilians."

Sera searched his face, her dark eyes steady and piercing. "Promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Whatever happens out there tonight, you don’t sanitize it when you come home," she said, her voice tight with quiet emotion. "Don’t tell me everything was fine just to keep me from worrying."

"I won’t hide a thing," Kael promised, meeting her gaze without blinking. "I’ll tell you all of it."

She let out a slow breath and leaned her forehead against his chest for a brief, fierce second, her free hand clutching his shirt. Then she stepped back and gave a firm nod.

"Go get your jacket and boots on. I’ve got things covered here."

Kael lingered for a fraction of a second, looking down at his son. "I hate walking out the door when his fever only broke last night."

"He’s sleeping soundly, his skin is cool, and the clinic is ten minutes away if I need them," Sera said gently, though there was steel underneath her softness. "Don’t split your focus, Kael. Remember what I told you this morning—keep your head where your feet are."

Kael leaned down and pressed his lips to Noah’s warm forehead.

"Daddy’s got to step out for a bit, little man," he whispered against the soft hair. "Take care of your mother for me."

Sera offered a faint, misty smile. "Still giving orders to an infant?"

"He gets the important part."

"Which is?"

"That I’m coming back to him," Kael said softly. "And to you."

He kissed Sera firmly on the forehead, turned toward the bedroom to grab his field jacket, and walked out into the night with his resolve locked firmly in place.

=====

If the Hunter Association had been busy that morning, tonight it looked like a fortress preparing for war.

Amber emergency beacons spun silently above the main concourse, casting rhythmic sweeps of orange light across the concrete plaza outside. Armored personnel carriers and heavy tactical trucks idled along the curb while logistics crews in reflective vests rolled crates of flares, medical kits, and barrier charges down the loading ramps.

Inside the lobby, the usual administrative ropes were gone. Every wall-mounted screen displayed a live satellite feed of the eastern industrial district, overlaid with pulsing red heat-signatures and expanding yellow containment rings.

Kael bypassed the main counters and headed straight for the emergency muster desk, sliding his provisional ID across the steel table.

"Kael Ashford," he said over the din of boots and radio chatter. "Called in by Instructor Marcus Vale."

The clerk scanned the card, slapped a reflective yellow support armband onto the counter, and pointed toward the double doors of the main assembly hall. "Armband on your left bicep. Briefing is in Hall B—move fast, transports roll in five."

Kael strapped the band over his jacket sleeve and pushed through the doors.