Hunter walked through the crowded thoroughfare and ignored the strange looks he was receiving. The eagle was uneasy at being surrounded by so many tieflings. It kept hissing and smashing its beak against the bars whenever one of the demonic humanoids came too close. Hunter ignored the bird and did his best to ignore the residents of the Outpost similarly.

When Hunter finally threaded his way through the press and exited the Outpost, he saw that Walt was surprisingly absent. The other guard nodded respectfully when he spotted Hunter, so the young warrior returned the gesture. Hunter thought about asking the tiefling for his name. It would be nice to make some quasi-friends and build goodwill but ultimately decided against it. Hopefully, when he completed the second quest, the Outpost would stop giving him so much trouble. Besides, he had exhausted his meager social skills trying to fleece the mayor for a storage ring. He shuddered at the thought of having to engage in a conversation. Worse, he might have to engage in small talk.

Ignoring the tiefling for now, Hunter calmly descended the trail at a typical human pace. He was careful not to let his abilities become known. When he had traveled far enough that he felt safe, he made a bee-line toward the woods. When the young warrior had safely hidden in the trees, he hefted the cage and set it on a nearby boulder.

There was only a simple latch on the cage. If the bird was sufficiently intelligent, it probably could’ve freed itself. It probably meant the eagle was nothing but a hindrance or a quick snack. Either way, it would be freed soon. Hunter wanted to convert his new weapon before dealing with the wayward animal.

He pulled the Hidden Hand of Avarice from his storage and set it next to the cage. The eagle leaned away from the leather bracer and moved as far away as it could while still within the confines of its prison. Hunter chuckled at the sight.

“Even you can tell it isn’t something to mess with. I wish I had been as smart as you when I first got into the Rift. Of course, one of us ended up in a cage, so that probably means I ended up alright.”

Hunter could swear the eagle was glaring at him with its head cocked to the side. Of course, that might have been just the way the bird looked in the first place. Now that Hunter had the time to study the eagle, he had to admit that it was a beautiful specimen of nature. Its razor-sharp beak was blacked and ringed in yellow. Its eyes, almost human in countenance, were a brilliant gold color that turned orange around the outer edge of the iris.

Its feathers fell into a mottled range of browns and blacks. The majority of the plumage was an earthy brown. It darkened to black in some places, while it lightened to russet in others. Hunter imagined that in a certain light, the russet would look gold, which would explain the eagle’s name. Some of the feathers were tipped in a tan so light that they looked white in comparison.

Even its talons had a savage elegance. Each golden-scaled foot was tipped in shredding weapons about an inch and a half long. There was no doubt about it. Hunter’s new friend was a warrior. He supposed it was a blessing that the creature hadn’t become greed-tainted like the bear Hunter met earlier. It would probably be a death sentence to fight a supernatural eagle that could strike from the sky. The thought actually made him consider trying to raise the bird as a pet.

Hunter shook away the idly fancy. As a city-dweller, he didn’t know much about raising animals. His only experience with the wild was his mom’s beloved Palmeranian that she named Princess. Hunter and Princess didn’t get along well in the best of times. He had serious doubts he would fare any better with an eagle.

Turning his gaze from the eagle, he returned his attention to the Hidden Hand. He held out an empty palm and concentrated on activating his Progenitor passive. Technically, the young warrior needn’t have bothered with using actions along with his skill, but he found that it helped him visualize what he was trying to do. Hunter found it increasingly necessary to maintain strict control over his errant thoughts. The Archives was adept at transforming fantasy into reality. His bloodline and associated skills were a perfect example.

He felt a shifting in his mind as the passive skill engaged and black wind flowed from his fingertips to surround the piece of equipment. The gold on the metal flaked away until it was the same platinum color as his mask. The leather stayed a dark black, and Hunter once again found himself in the position where the color didn’t match his brown leather boots. It was stupid to worry about appearances when the equipment was purely to save his life, but that was just the way the teenager was.

His mom had always told him that clothing was a way of communicating. The things you wore intentionally or unintentionally told people something about yourself. Hunter thought it was more accurate for women than men and said as much, but his mom had quickly corrected him. She asked him if he’d rather walk into a bank wearing a suit or ski mask, and Hunter got her point. When it had been explained to him, he started seeing the same thing around his school.

People who hung out together wore things that matched. Whether it was band tees or designer purses, every piece of clothing was a sign of belonging. His classmates might as well be wearing signs telling their peers what faction they belonged to and, by extension, what qualities they ascribed to. Sure, there were people that broke the mold, but even that was its own form of silent communication.

That was why Hunter wanted everything to match. Looking put together made him feel put together. In a world where he didn’t have much control over anything, he liked the feeling of at least choosing his clothing.

Hunter picked up the leather bracer and studied it with his Eye of the Hurricane.

The Hidden Sting of the Black Wind (Lvl 20): This unique bracer has three throwing spikes hidden below its plating. When one of the spikes pierces a target, black wind billows from the tip. When the spike expends its energy, it evaporates and is reformed in its sheathe. This action will cost 5% of your total mana each time. Additionally, striking an enemy with the armored knuckles drains a marginal portion of their life-force. Like all Black Wind, it absorbs all forms of energy to replenish the wielder and upgrade the gauntlet. Efficiency can be improved through various means.

Hunter tugged the bracer over his tunic and smiled when it fit perfectly.

It had better. I used my own power to transform it.

Hunter would’ve been pissed if he transformed it, and then all of a sudden it became too tight or too loose. He had been lucky so far that the equipment he picked up came in various sizes and those that didn’t have been altered by greed to attune them to his size. Beyond the perfect fit, the benefits of the item were situational. The projectiles weren’t any more deadly than lobbing a Black Tornado, but it was more stealthy. The small black spikes would be hard to spot, and when they hit, they would back a punch.

Hunter drew out one of the aforementioned spikes and studied it up close. It had the same sort of rifling on its surface that his spire possessed. If it worked the same way, then Hunter could use Black Wind to propel the spike to ridiculous speeds as soon as it left his fingers. The wind would turn the tiny piece of metal into a spinning metal drill. Hopefully, that meant it would punch through armor and damage the flesh underneath. The fact that it reformed once used was even better. Hunter didn’t want to have to go searching for thrown projectiles if he didn’t have to.

Now what to do about the bird?