It had been a couple of days since then.
Riven now stood in front of a towering building in the heart of the city—a fortress of glass, stone, and reinforced mana steel. Gleaming banners fluttered overhead, bearing the emblem of a silver sword cleaving through a crown of horns.
The Argent Fang Guild.
One of the largest independent Esper organizations in this region. Not officially tied to the Union, but not rebellious either. A place that welcomed both desperate freelancers and rising stars, provided they had the power to back it up.
Riven adjusted the black jacket draped over his white shirt, brushing a wrinkle from his trousers as he took in the bustle around him.
Espers came and went in droves—some laughing, some bloodied, all armed and dangerous.
The air smelled of iron, sweat, and cooked meat from nearby street vendors. Mana throbbed faintly in the air, like static under his skin.
He exhaled.
The Queen—no, Yalena—wasn't with him this time. He'd named her two nights ago.
"Broodmate" might've worked in their private little hive... but out here, among humans, it would raise more than a few eyebrows. She'd seemed amused when he explained the idea and had approved the name with a kiss before returning to feed the youngest of their spawn.
She couldn't be away from the hive for long. Not yet.
So for now… it was just him... And an escort... Protection as Yalena insisted.
Riven stared up at the Argent Fang Guild sign again, then down at the form in his hand—his application.
He wasn't exactly thrilled to be here. But he needed food.
Ever since his transformation, the Hive System had begun regulating his hunger in more... monstrous ways.
Human blood wasn't strictly necessary—not yet—but some form of high-quality organic matter had to be consumed regularly to maintain his current mental stability. Failing to do so would risk regression, instability… or worse—Frenzy.
He'd already tested his theory last night.
Weaker monsters—especially those below Tier 9—were completely viable. His daughters gladly hunted some for him to eat... Although he was disgusted at the sight, they were surprisingly delicious. Guess it was due to the change in his taste buds. Their blood, their cores, even certain organs were… edible. And in early stages like this, his body could still digest them efficiently.
Once he evolved further, his Hive Lord physiology would begin craving stronger prey.
And that meant he needed access to dungeons.
The guild was the best way in.
Whether he liked it or not… he needed a hunter license.
And to get that?
He needed to prove he wasn't just some random street-level scrub.
Riven sighed and folded the form neatly, tucking it under his arm. He began walking toward the entrance.
He could already feel some of the guild guards eyeing him.
No doubt someone like him, showing up, with no gear, no visible weapons, and wearing clothes that looked more suited for a high school debate team than monster hunting… was raising some eyebrows.
Well, let them watch.
He wasn't here to impress anyone.
He was here to eat.
The heavy doors of the Argent Fang Guild parted as Riven stepped inside, immediately hit by the rush of sound and sensation.
The interior was just as impressive as the outside—vaulted ceilings with hanging light-crystals, sleek wooden floors reinforced with mana veins, and a central marble hall packed with espers. Holo-boards displayed bounties, dungeon clear times, team postings, and guild announcements. The entire place was brimming with power, ego, and barely restrained chaos.
A few hunters gave him a passing glance. Most ignored him.
He preferred it that way.
Ahead, behind a long curved counter, sat a series of receptionists—each one dealing with a different kind of client. Newbie applications. Contract disputes. Guild assignment boards. Injury reports.
Riven scanned for the "New Registrations" terminal and spotted her.
A young woman with slate-gray hair tied in a tight bun, eyes sharper than glass, and a uniform that looked too crisp for the rest of the room. She sat upright, fingers flying across a mana pad as she typed, her nametag reading: SARINNE.
Perfect.
Riven walked up and placed his folded application on the counter.
She looked up instantly.
"…Name?" she asked, her voice clipped and professional, eyes flicking to his clothes, his aura, and his general lack of weapons.
"Riven Cael."
"Solo hunter?"
Riven hesitated. "Well…"
Before he could finish, a voice came from behind him.
"I'm also registering. With Father."
The receptionist blinked. "...Father?"
Riven glanced over his shoulder—and there she was.
Arixa.
One of his daughters.
A parasitic soldier.
She looked human, almost too perfectly so, as Riven had come to learn, all of them could take human form, maybe it was because of him.
She stood a little taller than Riven, her posture relaxed but unnervingly still. Her long silver hair was tied into a loose ponytail that brushed over her shoulder. Her skin was fair and flawless, just a shade too smooth—like porcelain warmed by sunlight. Her eyes, a deep blue, identical to Riven's, seemed almost reflective under the lobby's lighting.
She wore a simple black zip-up jacket over a fitted white tank top, tucked into dark cargo pants with multiple side pockets. Clean white sneakers, laced tightly.
She could've been any young woman walking the city streets.
If you ignored the way people instinctively stepped back when she passed.
She was hot and was a bit intimidating.
Hive spawn were biologically wired to be very protective of their parents.
The receptionist cleared her throat. "You're his… daughter?"
"Yes," Arixa said, offering a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Registered name: Arixa Cael."
She held out a small ID slip. The receptionist scanned it, blinked, then frowned. "No match in the census. Not flagged either. Weird."
Riven coughed lightly. "We're from… one of the isolated farming settlements. Off-grid types."
"...Huh. Okay," the receptionist said slowly. "Well, as long as you're not a threat to city safety."
Arixa tilted her head slightly. "I am only a threat to those who threaten my father."
Riven winced. "Ignore her. She's… joking."
"...Right. Joking," the receptionist muttered, stamping the forms.
Using the Hive link, Riven spoke to her silently.
"Try not to say things that sound like death threats, alright?"
"Understood," Arixa replied mentally, her tone serene.
"Should I simply kill threats silently then?"
"NO!"
"Leave everything to me."
"Understood, Father."
The receptionist looked up at them again.
"Any certifications?"
"No."