Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

Petra sprinted through the dense forest, her boots pounding the earth as she darted between gnarled trees. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, the strain of exhaustion and adrenaline burning in her chest. Every few steps, she paused, her keen senses picking up the rustle of pursuers—demon scouts trailing her like hounds. With a flick of her wrist, she drew her blade, a sleek, silver weapon glinting in the dappled light, and dispatched them swiftly: a slash to the throat, a stab through the chest. Their guttural cries faded into the undergrowth as she pressed on, her dark braid swinging with each desperate stride.

She pushed herself harder, her lungs screaming for air, until a figure emerged from the shadows ahead. "Well, well," Gendry said, stepping into her path with a swaggering grin. His broad frame loomed against the trees, his armor scratched and weathered from countless fights. "As expected from you, Petra. I knew you'd escape." His voice dripped with arrogance, his green eyes gleaming with mockery.

"Gendry," Petra muttered, her frown deepening as she slowed to a halt. A chill ran down her spine—her instincts screamed that his presence here, in this shadowed thicket, meant nothing good.

"No need to beat around the bush," Gendry said, folding his arms across his chest. "You already suspect it—there's a traitor among us. I suppose you'd call me that. I don't mind, honestly. I see myself as the savior, the one making the right call, while you lot view me as the enemy stabbing you all in the back. But I'm not here to debate morals. I'll keep it simple: surrender or die." His confidence was unshakable, his stance relaxed yet menacing.

Petra bit her lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood as she weighed her odds. She knew she couldn't take Gendry on her best day—his brute strength and cunning outmatched her finesse. And here, in this forest teeming with ancient trees, it was worse. As a demon Trent, Gendry thrived in wooded terrain, drawing power from the roots and shadows. She was cornered, her energy waning.

"I surrender," she said, raising her hands slowly, palms open. She wasn't fool enough to pick a fight she couldn't win.

"Good choice," Gendry replied, his smile widening. "I knew you wouldn't be stupid. Let's hope Vine's as smart—it'd be a shame to lose a captain, especially one who isn't Krael." He sauntered toward her, his gait brimming with arrogance, unafraid of any sudden moves.

"She surrendered, huh? Pity," a voice rasped from the trees. A demon emerged, its sinewy form cloaked in dark scales, its yellow eyes glinting with malice. Petra's breath caught—she hadn't sensed it at all. If she'd attacked Gendry, that creature would've pounced, sealing her fate in an instant. "I was hoping she'd fight," the demon added, "give me an excuse to rip her apart."

Vine stood at the agreed regrouping point, a clearing bathed in the faint glow of a crescent moon. Her hands rested on the hilts of her twin daggers, her posture tense as she scanned the treeline. Petra had sent the signal—a sharp whistle, distinct and coded, one only her team and Vine recognized. Among demon hunters, each captain had their own unique signals, a language of sounds and signs drilled into every recruit from the start. Petra's call had been clear: regroup here.

"Where's Petra? Why's she taking so long?" Vine muttered, her voice tight with worry. Her short, auburn hair framed a face taut with suspicion, her senses on high alert for any hint of a trap.

"Petra's here!" Iliac called out, striding into the clearing with a casual confidence that clashed with the night's tension. His lanky frame moved with ease, his spear slung over his shoulder. "The rest of us too. What's up, Vine?"

Vine's eyes widened as Petra emerged behind him, flanked by Iliac and—shockingly—Gendry. "Petra? What's going on?" she demanded, her voice cracking with betrayal as she took in the scene.

"I'm sorry, Vine," Petra said, her head bowed, her voice heavy with guilt. Her hands hung limp at her sides, her usually fierce demeanor crumpled under shame. "I didn't have a choice."

"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be," Gendry said, stepping forward with a smug grin. "Join us or die—your call."

"Never!" Vine shouted, her grip tightening on her daggers as she squared her shoulders. "I'll never side with traitors!"

"Guess you're not as smart as I hoped," Gendry muttered, his tone laced with disappointment. He shook his head, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword.

Azrael and Scarlett crept through the night, their footsteps muffled on the cracked stone path leading to the Lust Castle. Its spires loomed ahead, jagged silhouettes against a sky streaked with crimson clouds.

"Invincibility cloak," Scarlett whispered, her fingers tracing runes in the air. A faint shimmer enveloped them both, rendering them invisible to the naked eye.

"That spell—casting it on both of us must be draining," Azrael said, his voice a hushed murmur as he glanced at her. His dark hair fell into his eyes, concern flickering in his gaze.

Scarlett smirked, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face. "It's fine. When you've got a strong bloodline and plenty of resources, mana's the least of your worries." Her tone was boastful, but a shadow crossed her features. "Though, honestly, it's sixty percent my brother's doing—maybe more. He's always taken care of me, and sometimes I feel like dead weight next to him."

"Sounds like a hell of a brother," Azrael said, his voice warm with admiration as they pressed forward, shadows stretching long around them.

They moved with purpose toward the castle's heart, weaving through overgrown courtyards and past rusted gates. "How do you know where we're going?" Scarlett asked, her curiosity piqued. Azrael led with a certainty that suggested more than guesswork.

"I've got a map," he replied, patting his chest where a folded parchment rested beneath his tunic. "Commander Aquarius gave it to me—our spy sketched the layout."

Scarlett's brow furrowed. "This spy—how'd he get that kind of intel from the demons?"

"He was saved by Gendry years back," Azrael explained, his pace steady. "Owed him a favor and agreed to be our informant. What's—?" He stopped mid-sentence as Scarlett halted abruptly, her expression darkening.

"This is a trap," she hissed, urgency sharpening her voice. "We need to abandon the mission—now!"

"What's wrong?" Azrael asked, his frown deepening as he turned to her.

"Think about it," she said, her mind racing. "The informant was Gendry's. We've slipped into this city, infiltrated the castle, and not a single guard's crossed our path. No demons, no resistance—nothing. It's too easy."

Azrael's face paled as the realization sank in, his hand tightening on his sword.

"Wow, your chick's sharp," a familiar voice drawled. Gendry stepped from the shadows of a nearby archway, his smirk wide and taunting. "Her instincts are spot-on. I'm starting to see why you like her, Azrael. Too bad she's got to die—too arrogant for her own good."

"Gendry!" Azrael snapped, his voice thick with disbelief. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be guarding the city!"

"No need to worry about home," Gendry said, his tone smug. "Our new allies made sure it's safe. If you'd waited a bit longer before sneaking off, you'd have seen it yourself. But I'm not here to chat—I'm here to deal with her." He nodded toward Scarlett. Petra stood at his side, her head bowed in shame, flanked by a handful of demons with gleaming eyes and bared fangs.

"Azrael, run," Scarlett urged, stepping forward to shield him. "I'll cover you—go!"

"No way," Azrael said, planting his feet. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"Don't be stupid!" she shot back, her voice fierce but pleading. "I'll be fine—I mean it. I can't die that easily. I'll catch up, I promise."

Azrael hesitated, his jaw tight as he searched her eyes. After a long, agonizing moment, he nodded once, turned, and slipped into the shadows, leaving Scarlett to face the threat alone.

This version adds vivid details—like the forest chase, the castle's eerie quiet, and the