Crocus, the capital city of Fiore, sparkled in the golden rays of dawn, its bustling streets already alive with the hum of commerce. Vendors called out their wares, children ran laughing through the alleys, and Rune Knight patrols moved with their typical blend of discipline and complacency. But as the sun rose higher, the festive atmosphere gave way to uneasy whispers. The previous night’s chaos lingered like a shadow over the city, and with good reason.

A monster had come to Crocus.

The attacks began a week ago—isolated incidents in the outer districts, then progressively closer to the city’s heart. Witnesses described a hulking, reptilian beast with scales like iron and eyes that glowed a fierce crimson. It struck under the cover of darkness, leaving devastation in its wake before vanishing without a trace. The Rune Knights, while effective against bandits and minor threats, were ill-prepared for such a foe.

Zerutod watched the city from the rooftop of an abandoned building near the edge of the damage zone. Clad in his usual attire, his cerulean eyes glinted as he surveyed the streets below. His goal was clear: capture the beast alive. It wasn’t its destructive nature that interested him but the creature’s unique magic. He needed it for a specific experiment, and killing it would render its essence useless. Yet capturing such a powerful monster was no small feat.

“Charging in headfirst is suicide,” he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with dry amusement. “But there’s no need to dirty my hands when I can let others do the heavy lifting.”

The Rune Knights were an obvious choice. Their resources and manpower far outstripped his own, and their presence in Crocus meant the monster was already their responsibility. All he had to do was bait them into action and ensure the fight played out to his advantage.

Descending the building with practiced ease, Zerutod used Input to walk along the vertical surface, his footsteps silent as he reached the ground. He blended into the crowds effortlessly, his sharp gaze picking out details others might overlook. A shopkeeper complaining about damaged goods. A Rune Knight captain discussing patrol schedules. A child boasting about seeing the monster from their window. Each piece of information fed into his growing understanding of the situation.

As dusk approached, Zerutod made his way to the latest attack site. The destruction was severe—shattered walls, claw marks gouged into cobblestone, and scorch marks suggesting some form of magical discharge. Kneeling beside one of the marks, he activated Replay, and a faint dome of cerulean lightning formed around him. Within the dome, ghostly images replayed the scene: the monster crashing through the street, its claws tearing into buildings, its roar shaking the air. Rune Knights scrambled in futile resistance before the creature vanished into the sewers.

“So, that’s where you hide,” Zerutod said, smirking as he stood. “Predictable.”

He stepped away from the ruined street, his mind already spinning with possibilities. To lure the Rune Knights into action, he would need to guide their movements subtly. False leads, planted evidence, and carefully crafted rumors would all point them to the creature’s hiding place. The Knights would charge in, tire the beast out, and leave it ripe for capture.

The first step of his plan was clear. Zerutod’s smirk widened as he vanished into the city’s depths, his thoughts cold and calculating. “Let the hunt begin.”

Night had fallen over Crocus, blanketing the city in shadows. Streetlamps flickered as patrols of Rune Knights marched through the quieter districts, their armor clinking rhythmically. To most, this was a sign of protection, a reassurance against the looming threat of the beast. To Zerutod, it was the sound of pieces moving into place.

Perched atop a building overlooking the market square, Zerutod observed the Knights below. His plan required precision. The Rune Knights wouldn’t hunt the beast on hearsay alone; they needed tangible evidence, something undeniable to drive them into action. Zerutod’s task was to give them exactly that while keeping his hand invisible.

“Subtlety,” he murmured to himself, his tone laced with amusement. “That’s the key to all good manipulation.”

Earlier in the day, Zerutod had begun sowing the seeds of his scheme. He had visited several taverns, blending into the crowds while spinning rumors of a “hidden lair” deep within the city’s abandoned warehouse district. The details were vague but tantalizing—whispers of claw marks on walls, strange growls at night, and scorch marks near sewer grates. He ensured his words were overheard by the right people: off-duty Knights, merchants with loose tongues, and anyone eager to spread a good story.

Now, Zerutod needed to add the finishing touch. Activating Input, he climbed down the side of the building, his steps silent as he descended into the alleyways. The warehouse district was a perfect stage for the next act. It was isolated enough to seem plausible but close enough to the city’s heart to draw immediate attention. Using Path, he moved quickly through the shadows, leaving claw marks on walls and scattering debris to simulate signs of the beast’s presence.

At the entrance to an old, crumbling warehouse, Zerutod crouched and activated Replay. The spell created a faintly glowing dome around him as he reconstructed a fabricated attack. He projected ghostly images of the beast tearing through crates, clawing at walls, and roaring into the night. The magical afterimages would fade soon enough, but not before creating an aura of authenticity.

“Convincing,” Zerutod said, straightening and stepping back to admire his work. “Now for the bait to take hold.”

He left a tattered Rune Knight insignia on the ground, singed at the edges to suggest a struggle. The detail was small but deliberate—a clear provocation to lure the Knights into the trap. Zerutod moved through the warehouse, planting similar signs of the beast’s supposed lair: clawed crates, shattered glass, and scorched wooden beams.

By the time dawn broke over Crocus, the warehouse district had been transformed into a scene of chaos. Rumors spread like wildfire, and it didn’t take long for the Rune Knights to act. Zerutod, watching from a distance, smirked as a group of Knights assembled near the district’s edge, their leader barking orders.

“Perfect,” Zerutod said under his breath. “Let the fools run to their deaths.”

The Knights moved out, their armored forms gleaming in the morning sun. They marched toward the warehouse with purpose, their weapons drawn and spells ready. Zerutod followed from a safe distance, his steps silent as he observed their every move. His trap had been set, and now it was only a matter of time before the beast revealed itself.

The warehouse district was deathly silent as the Rune Knights entered in formation, their movements methodical. The faint morning light filtered through broken windows, casting long, jagged shadows across the abandoned buildings. At the front of the group was their captain, a seasoned Knight with a commanding presence and a cautious air. Behind him, the squad fanned out, weapons at the ready.

Zerutod, perched on a nearby rooftop, watched the scene unfold with a calm detachment. His cerulean eyes gleamed as he tracked their progress. He could feel the tension building; the beast was nearby. It wouldn’t be long before the Knights stumbled into its path.

“And so, the hunt begins,” Zerutod murmured, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the wind.

Inside the warehouse, the Rune Knights discovered the signs Zerutod had left behind. Scorched beams, shattered crates, and deep claw marks etched into the stone walls. The captain knelt to inspect the tattered insignia lying on the floor, its edges blackened as though burned by some great heat.

“It’s here,” the captain said, his tone grim. “Spread out and stay alert. Whatever did this isn’t far.”

The Knights moved cautiously, their weapons raised and spells ready. The stillness of the warehouse was oppressive, the air heavy with anticipation. And then, without warning, a deafening roar shattered the silence.

The beast emerged from the shadows, its massive form looming over the Knights. It was even more fearsome than the rumors suggested—scaly and reptilian, with glowing crimson eyes and jagged spikes running down its spine. Its claws gouged deep into the stone floor as it charged, its roar reverberating through the building.

The Rune Knights sprang into action. Spells flew through the air, illuminating the dim space with flashes of fire and ice. The beast roared in fury as it lashed out, its tail smashing through wooden beams and sending splinters flying. Zerutod watched from his vantage point, his expression unreadable.

“Impressive,” he said quietly as the beast shrugged off a fireball, its regenerative abilities already closing the burns. “But not invincible.”

The battle raged on, the Knights struggling to contain the monster’s sheer power. Their attacks slowed it, but nothing seemed to truly hurt it. Zerutod, observing their tactics, made subtle adjustments to the battlefield with his time magic. A stray piece of debris rolled into the beast’s path, tripping it momentarily. A Knight’s swing, perfectly timed, found its mark thanks to a minor manipulation of time.

The fight dragged on, the monster growing more sluggish with each passing minute. Its movements became less precise, its roars less ferocious. The Knights, however, were equally drained. Their armor was dented, their spells depleted, and their morale wavering.

From the shadows, Zerutod smirked. “Exactly as planned,” he muttered. The beast was still strong, but its stamina was faltering. Soon, it would be weak enough for him to move in.

As the Rune Knights pressed their attack, the captain shouted, “Fall back! We can’t hold this position!” The remaining Knights began a slow retreat, their movements desperate as the beast lunged forward one final time.

Zerutod’s eyes narrowed as he prepared for his moment. The Rune Knights had done their job—tiring out the beast and pushing it to the brink. Now it was his turn.

The beast roared in frustration as the Rune Knights retreated, its crimson eyes blazing with fury. It clawed at the air, its hulking form swaying as exhaustion finally began to take hold. Blood trickled from the shallow wounds inflicted by the Knights, its regenerative magic slower now than before. The air was thick with the scent of burnt wood and ozone, the aftermath of the Knights’ spells.

Zerutod observed from the shadows, his gaze sharp and calculating. The monster’s energy was waning, and the Rune Knights had retreated far enough to leave him room to act. He rose from his crouched position atop a broken ledge and murmured to himself, “Time to collect my prize.”

Activating Input, Zerutod descended the ruined building with practiced ease, his movements silent as a wraith. He landed softly on the warehouse floor, just a few meters away from the struggling beast. Its breaths came in ragged heaves, and its glowing eyes flickered as it scanned its surroundings. Zerutod didn’t waste time. He extended his hand and spoke the command, “Pause.”

A field of cerulean lightning crackled around the creature, freezing its body in place. For a moment, the massive beast was completely still, its furious roar caught mid-motion. Zerutod approached cautiously, his eyes locked on the creature as he assessed the situation. The spell wouldn’t hold for long—not against a monster of this strength.

“Still putting up a fight, even like this,” Zerutod muttered, admiration lacing his tone. “Let’s see how you handle this.”

Reaching into his coat, Zerutod retrieved a containment artifact: a small orb inscribed with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with energy. Designed to hold even the most powerful of magical entities, the artifact was Zerutod’s ace. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the orb, and a swirling vortex of energy emerged, pulling at the beast’s frozen form.

The containment process was anything but simple. The beast’s regenerative magic flared as it fought against the orb’s pull, shattering the Pause spell in an instant. It lunged at Zerutod, its claws slashing through the air. But Zerutod was faster. Using Path, he dashed to the side, leaving a streak of cerulean lightning as he narrowly avoided the strike.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” Zerutod said, smirking. He extended his hand again, lightning crackling around his fingers. “Stay down.”

Another surge of magic enveloped the beast as Zerutod chained together his spells, slowing its movements and weakening its resistance. The orb’s pull grew stronger, and the monster’s massive form began to shrink as it was drawn into the artifact’s confines. With one final roar, it vanished into the orb, the runes glowing brightly as they locked the containment field in place.

Zerutod exhaled, the faintest trace of fatigue creeping into his expression. He examined the orb, now warm to the touch and radiating a low hum. “Alive, just as I needed,” he said, pocketing the artifact. “Now to make my exit before the Knights come snooping.”

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the warehouse as the Rune Knights cautiously returned, their captain shouting orders to secure the area. Zerutod activated Path once more, vanishing into the shadows before they could see him. By the time the Knights arrived, the beast was gone, and Zerutod’s trail was as faint as smoke.

Far from the chaos of the warehouse district, Zerutod stood in a secluded chamber beneath Crocus. The room was sparse, lit by flickering magical torches and dominated by a single reinforced pedestal. On it sat the containment orb, glowing faintly as it hummed with the raw energy of the captured beast. Zerutod leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his cerulean eyes locked on the artifact.

“Not bad for a night’s work,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The creature’s power was palpable even through the orb, a constant reminder of the danger it posed. But now, it was his to study, to manipulate, to use. Alive, just as he needed it.

Zerutod approached the pedestal and carefully placed his hand on the orb. The runes glowed brighter in response, and a faint image of the beast appeared within the artifact, thrashing futilely against its magical prison. Its crimson eyes, once so full of fury, were now dulled with exhaustion. Zerutod’s expression remained calm as he muttered, “Rest up. You’re going to be quite useful.”

The containment orb wasn’t just a storage device. It was a siphon, capable of extracting the essence of the captured creature without killing it. Zerutod began activating the siphoning mechanism, watching as streams of glowing energy swirled within the orb. He could feel the magic radiating from it, a potent blend of strength and regeneration. It was precisely what he needed for his experiments.

As the siphoning continued, Zerutod allowed his mind to wander. The Rune Knights would undoubtedly investigate the beast’s disappearance, piecing together the remnants of the battle. He could already imagine their frustration as they found no trace of the creature or its captor. “Let them chase shadows,” he muttered to himself. “They’re good at that.”

Back in the city, the Rune Knights were doing just that. Their captain stood amidst the wreckage, his frustration evident as he barked orders. “Secure the area! Find out where that thing went!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

Despite their efforts, the trail had gone cold. The claw marks, scorch marks, and fabricated evidence Zerutod had left behind told a fragmented story that led nowhere. The Knights were left with more questions than answers, their resources stretched thin as they searched for a monster that no longer roamed the city.

Zerutod, meanwhile, completed the siphoning process. The orb dimmed slightly, its contents stable. He held it up, examining it with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. The beast’s magic was now his to command, another tool in his arsenal. “And so, the hunt ends,” he said, slipping the orb into his satchel.

With his prize secured, Zerutod prepared to leave Crocus. The city’s chaos no longer concerned him; it had served its purpose. The Rune Knights could spend days or weeks unraveling the mystery, but by then, Zerutod would be long gone.

As he stepped out into the night, his mind was already on the next phase of his plans. The captured beast, the essence he had extracted, and the knowledge he had gained were all pieces of a larger puzzle. For Zerutod, the hunt was just the beginning.