The reinforced gate opened again, the haze bleeding out into nothing. Riven lowered the spear with a sigh of relief, rolling his stiff shoulders. Arixa walked at his side, unscathed, crystalline fragments of dissolved constructs still clinging faintly to her jacket like glitter.
The proctor was waiting near the benches, slate pad in hand. He scanned them both, his expression neutral—though Riven didn't miss the flicker of something in his eyes. Interest, maybe even approval.
"Well," the man said, adjusting the brace at his jaw. "Results recorded. Both of you passed." He tapped his pad, and faint glyphs shimmered in the air. "Provisional hunter licenses are issued immediately after testing. They'll mark you as recognized Esper operatives within city limits."
He handed them each a slim card etched with silver lines.
Riven turned his over in his hand. It was no bigger than a credit card, dark gray with the Argent Fang crest etched faintly in mana-light. His name—Riven Cael—and tier information were inscribed beneath. The card pulsed faintly, reacting to his touch.
"This is your guild card," the proctor explained. "It acts as identification, mission log, and proof of rank. Don't lose it. If you do, you'll need to report it immediately, or risk impersonation."
Arixa held hers delicately between two fingers, inspecting it like a blade. "It feels… alive," she murmured.
"It's bound to you," the proctor confirmed. "Mana signature-marked and keyed. Anyone else who tries to use it will trigger the failsafe."
"Failsafe?" Riven asked.
"It burns them."
"…Good to know."
The proctor gestured, and an assistant hurried over with a pair of neatly folded black-and-silver uniforms. Sleeveless under-vests, reinforced trousers, boots with mana stitching, and a short jacket emblazoned with the guild crest.
"Standard issue Argent Fang attire," the proctor said. "Not mandatory to wear in the field, but recognizable. Helps avoid confusion when Espers respond to incidents. Wear it at least when reporting in."
Riven accepted the set with a nod, though he could already tell the jacket would sit oddly on him. Arixa, however, slipped hers over her shoulders without hesitation, fastening it neatly. The silver crest gleamed sharply against her black jacket. She looked the part already.
The proctor tucked his pad under his arm. "You're free to go home for today. Expect a notice within the next twenty-four hours about branch placement."
"Branch placement?" Riven echoed.
"Argent Fang, like many other guilds, isn't centralized," the man said. "Branches are scattered throughout the city—some large, some little more than a barracks. That way, when threats break out, we don't waste time dragging reinforcements from the far side of the city. We strike fast, contain, and clean."
Riven tilted his head. "But not all branches are equal, are they?"
The proctor's mouth twitched faintly. "Sharp. Correct. Some branches are critical—handling dungeon gates, Tier 6 incursions, or border defense. Others are smaller, posted near trade routes or minor nests. Assignments aren't random. Members are sorted according to their assessed capability. Higher ranks go to stronger branches. Newbloods go where they're needed most."
Riven slid his new card into his pocket. He didn't like the idea of being shuffled around like a chess piece, but he couldn't argue with the practicality of it.
The proctor gave a curt nod. "Dismissed."
As they stepped out of the testing wing, Arixa brushed against him lightly, her Hive link pulsing with quiet amusement.
Father, you looked very dignified with your spear. Even if you held it backwards.
Riven groaned softly. "Don't remind me."
The guild doors shut behind them with a heavy thud, cutting off the echoing sounds of the hall. Outside, the city greeted them with its usual noise.
Arixa adjusted the black jacket draped over her shoulders, the silver crest gleaming faintly in the sun. She turned to him, eyes reflective as ever, and asked quietly,
"What are we supposed to do now, Father? Are there any human activities you wish to handle?"
Riven paused at the edge of the busy thoroughfare, watching streams of people flow past—armed hunters laughing over their last kill, merchants haggling with Espers over exotic monster parts, children darting between the legs of tired guards.
For a moment, he considered it. He could have stayed out here, eaten street food, wandered the neon-lit markets, tried to live like a human again.
But the thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Finally, he exhaled and shook his head.
"No. Let's return to the hive. Your mother and sisters will be waiting for us."
The faintest smile tugged at Arixa's lips. Excitement flickered through the Hive link like sparks skipping across water.
"Alright, Father," she said softly.
For just an instant, her perfect composure cracked, replaced by something brighter—childlike eagerness at the thought of reuniting with her brood.
Riven let her walk half a step ahead, the silver of her hair catching the sunlight as she moved. His gaze lingered on the streets once more, the city alive with a rhythm he didn't entirely belong to.
Then he turned away from it.
Home wasn't here.
Not anymore.
Home was below, in the dark—where the Hive waited.
The street outside the guild was crowded, but Riven noticed her instantly.
A woman walked past them in the opposite direction approaching the guild building, her steps measured, her presence sharp enough to cut through the bustle. Her black hair swayed at her shoulders, a thin braid tucked behind one ear. Over her left eye gleamed a deep violet, while the right was hidden beneath a stark white eyepatch—etched with the image of a cracked golden skull. At her hip rested a sheathed sword with a golden handle, the guild jacket stretched neatly across her frame.
For a single heartbeat, her gaze collided with his.
Riven froze mid-step. Something about her presence gnawed at him—quiet but suffocating, like the air just before a storm. Her eye narrowed almost imperceptibly, lingering on him as though she was trying to place a memory.
He looked away first.
"Father? Is something the matter?" Arixa's voice brushed into his mind through the Hive link, tinged with alertness.
"…Nothing," Riven muttered quickly, resuming his pace. "Let's go."
Arixa waited for him to walk past and fell in behind him without argument, though her own gaze flickered back toward the woman once, sharp as a blade.
Behind them, the woman had stopped walking. Her violet eye stayed locked on Riven's retreating figure until the crowd swallowed him.
A man stepped up at her side. Blue hair, blue eyes behind polished glasses, his guild uniform partly hidden beneath a long white coat that marked him as something other than a fighter. He was slightly shorter than her, his expression curious but playful.
"Branch Master?" he asked softly, tilting his head. "Something on your mind?"
The woman exhaled slowly, turning her gaze away. "No. Nothing. My eye may have been… acting up, is all."
The man's lips curved into a playful smirk. "Ohhh? But I thought it only twitches when you're close to monsters."
Her shoulders stiffened at the remark.
"Thanks for the observation, Mr. Genius," she said dryly, brushing past him as she continued toward the guild entrance.
He chuckled, adjusting his glasses as he followed after her. "What? I'm only keeping track of your condition. If your instincts are reacting, it might not be nothing."
She didn't answer. Her fingers brushed over the golden hilt of her sword as she walked, her expression calm.
But her thoughts lingered.
That man's gaze—steady yet strange—had unsettled her.