The ferry groaned as it pulled into the northern port. Chains clattered, sailors shouted orders, and the salty air carried the calls of gulls circling high above. The sea here was different, colder, sharper, as if every wave carried with it a whisper of warning.
The port itself was alive with movement. Hunters of every rank passed through, some dragging crates, others sharpening weapons on the docks. Traders shouted prices of goods brought from distant lands, and the metallic clang of blacksmiths echoed even from within the town walls. This place was raw, brimming with anticipation, as though everyone was waiting for something to break loose.
Avilio stepped off the ferry, boots thudding against damp wood, and let his eyes roam. The streets beyond the port curved upward, lined with stone buildings and banners painted with the sigil of the Hunter Academy, an open eye wreathed in flame.
"Welcome to the North," Tora muttered beside him. "The real journey starts here."
Liam lingered behind them, carrying his bow close to his chest. His eyes widened at the sight of the towering cliffs beyond the port, jagged and white as bone, their peaks hidden in mist.
Avilio, though, was watching the people, hunters with scars, merchants who spoke too quickly, guards whose hands never strayed far from their weapons. Something about this place was heavier, like the air itself was thick with secrets.
They started moving, weaving through the crowd. At every turn, Avilio caught glimpses of posters nailed to posts and walls—wanted notices, some recent, some faded with time. His gaze lingered on one for a moment before Tora pulled him along.
But as they reached the edge of the port square, a sudden commotion drew their attention. A group of guards were shouting, pushing people back. Something—or someone—was being dragged across the stone floor, and the crowd's reaction made it clear: this was not a normal day at the northern port. Avilio slowed his pace, eyes narrowing.
"Now I need to find Selene," Tora started speaking, "She might be in this town or the next one. Will you guys go with me?"
Avilio's attention broke. He moved his eyes away from the commotion. "Yeah, I am onboard. I think Liam does too."
Liam on the back was indifferent. He had no interest in wherever they went.
Tora's words hung in the air, carrying both determination and hesitation. He was trying to sound casual, but Avilio caught the weight in his voice—this wasn't just about reuniting with an old comrade.
"Then it's settled," Tora said, forcing a smile. "We'll start asking around once we're inside the town proper. Selene always leaves traces; someone must have seen her."
Avilio gave a small nod. "Fine. But let's keep our ears sharp. This place feels… dangerous." His eyes flicked once more toward the commotion behind them. Whatever was happening there, it wasn't their concern, at least not yet.
Liam trailed a few paces behind, bow still strapped across his chest, his gaze distant. He didn't answer, but when Tora looked back at him with raised brows, the boy gave the faintest shrug. It was enough.
The three of them moved past the crowded port square and onto the cobbled road that wound uphill into the northern town. The smell of salt faded, replaced by the aroma of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and the faint sting of forge smoke. Hunters brushed past them in groups, talking loudly about expeditions into the cliffs, about contracts with high payouts, about the kinds of monsters Liam had never even heard of.
To Avilio, the place was alive in a way the others had not been. The silence of the dead town was replaced with the restless heartbeat of ambition and danger. He exhaled slowly. This was where their paths were meant to take them next.
"Selene, huh," Avilio muttered, almost to himself. "Let's see where we find her."
And with that, the three of them stepped into the bustling veins of the northern town, unaware of how close their fates were already drawing together.
The three of them finally passed beneath the stone arch that marked the entrance to the northern town. The engraved letters above their heads read HAMMING, their edges worn by time and frost. A sudden chill swept over them as if the very name carried winter on its breath.
Avilio instinctively pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The air here was thinner, sharper, cutting against the skin. Their boots pressed against cobblestones still glazed with patches of ice despite the sun that shone faintly above.
Hamming was nothing like the southern towns they had passed. The houses here were built low and sturdy, roofs pitched steep to shrug off snow. Narrow alleys threaded between them, and lanterns hung on every corner, their flames flickering in the wind. Smoke rose from chimneys, curling into the pale sky, but even that warmth felt distant in the biting cold.
Tora rubbed his hands together. "Now that's a proper northern welcome," he said through chattering teeth. "Cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins."
Liam said nothing, his bow slung across his back, but his eyes scanned the streets. Hamming was quieter, reserved—hunters moved about briskly, merchants packed their goods quickly, as though everyone lived by an unspoken rule: don't linger in the cold longer than you have to.
Avilio stopped for a moment at the edge of the main street, letting the cold sink into his bones. He exhaled, and his breath turned white before his eyes.
The cold was already biting through their travel-worn clothes, and even Tora, who liked to pretend the weather didn't bother him, couldn't stop rubbing his arms. Avilio glanced at Liam—the boy's thin tunic was trembling with every gust of wind.
"First things first," Avilio said, his tone firm. "We find an inn. And something warmer to wear before we freeze out here."
They followed the main street, boots clicking against frost-slick stones. Most of the buildings were stone and timber, their windows small, glowing faintly with firelight from within. Finally, they spotted a wooden sign swaying in the wind, the painted letters almost hidden under a crust of frost: The Hearthstone Rest House.
Pushing open the heavy door, they were immediately greeted with a wave of warmth that felt like stepping into another world. A fire crackled in a large stone hearth, and the smell of stew hung in the air. Hunters lounged at wooden tables, steaming mugs in their hands, their gear resting nearby. The noise was low but steady—boots thudding, hushed talk, laughter that seemed muffled by the thick walls.
The innkeeper, a stout woman wrapped in layers of wool, glanced at them as they entered. "Rooms? Or just food for the evening?" she asked, her voice carrying the no-nonsense tone of someone who had seen a hundred travelers come and go.
"Rooms," Avilio replied without hesitation. "And if you know someone who sells proper winter clothing, point us there."
The woman gave them a curt nod. "A tailor two doors down, by the blacksmith. He'll have what you need. Your room will be ready once you return."
Tora leaned against the counter with a grin. "And maybe a hot meal when we're back?"
The woman snorted softly. "You'll get stew, bread, and ale like everyone else. Don't expect more."
Avilio didn't care. Warmth and food were enough. They stepped back outside, the cold rushing at them again, and made their way toward the tailor. Lanterns flickered in the icy wind, their glow leading the trio deeper into the northern streets.
Before Avilio could answer the woman's last words, the inn's door swung open with a thud. A gust of cold air swept in, curling the firelight for a moment. Three men entered, their boots crunching against the wooden floor. They moved with the practiced ease of hunters who had seen too many roads and too many battles.
At their head walked a man who instantly drew every eye in the room. His presence was heavy, commanding—not loud, but suffocating in its weight. He was broad-shouldered, his dark hair slicked back neatly, and a trimmed beard framed his sharp jawline. A long coat hung open at his sides, the faint glint of steel disappearing as he slid two massive butcher knives into the inner folds of the jacket. The blades disappeared, but the menace they carried lingered in the room.
His gaze, cold and unblinking, swept across the inn before landing on the woman behind the counter. A faint smile tugged at his lips, not warm, but calculated.
"Rooms are settled. Food's settled," he said in a voice smooth yet edged with something dangerous. "We're heading out."
The woman gave him a nod of recognition, her demeanor shifting just slightly, from strict to respectful. "Safe travels," she said quietly, almost with reverence.
Tora leaned closer to Avilio, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's no ordinary hunter. He's a Candidate Master… the kind who's only a step away from earning the Orange Marker."
Avilio's eyes narrowed as he studied the man—his movements, the way the air itself seemed to bend around his presence. This wasn't someone he would forget easily.
The Candidate Master gave a low chuckle, tapping the counter with his gloved fingers before turning back toward the door. His party followed without a word, their silence speaking more than noise ever could.
The fire crackled again. The room breathed again. But the weight of that man's shadow still lingered long after he left.
The Candidate Master had almost turned away when he noticed the three pairs of eyes fixed on him—Avilio's sharp and calculating, Tora's wide with recognition, and Liam's cautious, almost childlike curiosity. He stopped, then pivoted back toward them, his boots echoing on the wooden floor.
A faint grin curved his lips as he adjusted his coat. "Curious stares deserve a proper introduction," he said, his voice steady, polished, with the quiet pride of someone used to commanding attention. "I am Aziz,a Candidate Master… and leader of the party Chi-Square."
The name landed like a weight. Even a few hunters in the inn turned their heads at the mention, whispering under their breath. Chi-Square was not an unheard of name. They are some pretty mysterious party who doesn't like to show up in public. Some people say their methods are brutal.
Tora straightened, always quick with courtesy. "I'm Tora. This is Avilio, and the boy is Liam. We're travelers, here for the trials and the road beyond."
Aziz's eyes flicked over each of them in turn, lingering a moment longer on Avilio, as though trying to peel away a layer he couldn't quite see. "Hmmm," he murmured. "New blood, then. Interesting."
Behind him, the eight hunters of Chi-Square stood in silence. They were a wall of presence, their faces unreadable, their weapons hidden but their danger unmistakable. Not one of them moved to join their leader's words. They didn't need to—their silence was its own declaration of strength.
Aziz gave a small nod of acknowledgment, then slipped his gloved hands back into his coat. "Walk your path well," he said simply, his tone carrying the weight of both advice and warning.
With that, he turned and led his party out the door. The cold wind rushed in once more, and in seconds the inn was quiet again, save for the crackle of fire and the muted chatter of hunters returning to their meals.
Tora broke the silence first, exhaling slowly. "Aziz, huh… I didn't expect to see a Candidate Master here."
Avilio didn't answer. He was still staring at the door, the name carved into his thoughts. Liam shifted uncomfortably, clearly unaffected by the weight of titles but uneasy all the same.
The fire cracked in the hearth, pulling them back to the warmth of the room. The innkeeper cleared her throat, her voice practical and grounding. "Your rooms will be ready soon. Go fetch your clothes before night falls. Hamming doesn't forgive those who take her cold lightly."
Avilio finally pulled his eyes from the door and nodded. "Yeah. Let's get what we need."
The three of them stepped back out into the frost-laden street, their breaths misting in the air. The shadows of giants had just brushed past them, and though they were gone, the mark remained. Their journey in Hamming had only just begun.