The Hunter's License was cold in Blue's palm, the silver edges sharp against his skin. He turned it over between his fingers, feeling its weight—not just the metal, but the meaning behind it. One silver coin. A small price, yet a significant one. A doorway into something larger, something uncertain.
He pushed open the doors of the Restoria Hunter's Guild.
The first thing that hit him was the sound.
Steel on steel, the rhythmic shhk, shhk of a whetstone against a blade. Boots scuffing against wooden planks. Voices—low murmurs, sudden bursts of laughter, the occasional argument cutting through the air like a dagger. The scent of sweat, damp leather, and old ale clung to the walls.
A world of hardened hunters and fresh recruits unfolded before him.
Blue stepped forward, trying to ignore the way his presence barely registered. He was a ghost here. A newcomer, just another nameless face in a place where strength dictated worth.
Then, a voice—dry, amused—cut through the haze.
"F-Rank, huh?"
Blue's gaze snapped toward the speaker. A grizzled adventurer leaned against the notice board, arms crossed over his chest. His armor was scratched and worn, a testament to years of hunts. His gaze flickered over Blue, unimpressed, his lip curling in a smirk.
"You sure you're cut out for this?"
The words landed heavier than they should have. Blue knew this would happen. Expected it. But expectation didn't dull the sting.
He tightened his grip on the license, the metal biting into his palm. His body tensed—just slightly—but he refused to flinch. Words formed in his throat, but before he could respond, another voice sliced into the moment.
"Ignore him."
The speaker was a woman. Her golden hair shimmered under the dim guild lanterns, cut short and sharp, framing a face marked by quiet confidence. Her green eyes studied Blue, assessing but not dismissive.
She took a single step forward, closing the distance with effortless grace. "We've all been there."
Beside her stood another woman, her presence quieter but no less striking. Lyra. Dark-haired, keen-eyed, leaning slightly on the hilt of a dagger at her waist. The way she watched him wasn't unkind, but it wasn't trusting either. Measuring.
Celia offered a small, knowing smile. "Come on. We'll show you around."
Blue hesitated. He hadn't expected kindness.
Still, he followed.
---
The Pulse of Restoria
The city unfolded around them as they walked.
Celia and Lyra spoke like they belonged here—not just as adventurers but as people woven into the fabric of this place. They spoke of hidden smiths forging enchanted blades, of alleyway vendors who sold potions that worked—sometimes. They knew the guild's best-kept secrets, the taverns that didn't water down their drinks, the black-market traders who operated under the guild's nose.
Restoria was alive.
Blue drank in every word, committing them to memory.
They wove through narrow streets lined with shops that pulsed with activity. Merchant voices rang out, selling rare beast hides and infused gemstones. The smell of sizzling meat and spiced bread curled through the air, mixing with the ever-present scent of iron and oil from nearby smithies.
And yet, beneath the hum of the city, Blue felt the weight of his ignorance.
He knew nothing.
Nothing of this world's deeper mechanics. Nothing of the people who thrived in it. Nothing of the unwritten rules that dictated survival.
For all his confidence, all his drive, he was at the very bottom.
And the world would chew up and spit out anyone who didn't learn fast.
---
The Silver Hearth
By the time hunger gnawed at them, the sky had darkened.
They found themselves at The Silver Hearth, a restaurant tucked between a run-down tailor's shop and a potion vendor. Unlike the rough guild taverns, the Hearth was warm, lit by soft lantern light that reflected off polished wooden tables.
The scent of roasted meats and foreign spices hung heavy in the air, making Blue's stomach tighten.
Lyra was the first to break the quiet.
"You've been quiet." Her voice was casual, but her gaze wasn't. Watching him. Measuring him. "Let's eat. My treat."
Blue almost declined. Not because he didn't want the food, but because generosity among adventurers was rare.
Celia didn't hesitate, ordering easily. Lyra followed suit.
Blue scanned the menu. The prices made his pulse hitch. Mana-infused vegetables. Roasted wyvern steak. Exotic spices from the southern isles. This wasn't cheap.
The cautious part of him—the part that had spent too long thinking like a survivor—urged him to order something simple. Modest. Keep his head down.
Instead, the words left his mouth before he could reconsider.
"I'll take everything."
The table stilled.
Celia's smile faltered—just slightly. Lyra's eyebrow arched. A flicker of something passed between them. Not annoyance. Not amusement.
Calculation.
"That's gonna cost more than a few silver." Lyra's tone was light, but her eyes weren't. "What are you, some kind of rich kid?"
The tension in the air shifted. A thread pulled tight.
Blue didn't answer. He simply reached into his pocket as the waiter approached with the bill. Three silver coins. He laid them on the table with a smoothness that didn't match the storm in his chest.
Celia blinked. Stunned.
Lyra leaned forward, voice quieter now. More deliberate. "You had that on you?"
A test. A question with a thousand unspoken meanings.
Blue met her gaze. Unflinching. Steady.
"I can pay for myself."
A pause. Heavy.
Then, Lyra leaned back, an unreadable expression flitting across her face. Celia exhaled, her lips pressing together as if seeing him in a new light.
"Who are you, Blue?"
For the first time, the question unsettled him.
He could lie. Could weave a story, deflect, push away the scrutiny.
But something about the way Lyra looked at him—curious, sharp, interested—made the words feel like they'd shatter before they left his mouth.
Instead, he spoke the truth.
"I'm just trying to find my way."
The words felt too simple for what they carried. But they were real.
Silence settled over the table, not tense, but weighted.
Then Celia let out a slow chuckle. "Rookie, you just became a lot more interesting."
The rest of the meal passed in comfortable quiet, the lantern light flickering soft shadows across their faces.
For the first time since arriving in Restoria, Blue felt like he wasn't just passing through.
He was here.
And maybe—just maybe—he had a place.