The air in Ashfall was a cacophony of unfamiliar sounds: the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer, the low rumble of merchant carts, the sharp cries of street vendors. It was a world away from the quiet whispers of Whisperwood. Elian Vance, his travel-stained leather tunic feeling too tight, his hunting knife a cold weight at his hip, felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He moved with his accustomed silence, but here, it felt out of place, swallowed by the sheer press of humanity. He clutched the silver ring beneath his tunic, its cool metal a small comfort against the unfamiliar heat of the city.
He found the Hunter Guild building easily enough. It dominated a section of the Adventurer's Quarter, a formidable, three-story stone structure, more fortress than office. Its sturdy oak doors, scarred and weathered, seemed to loom over him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed one open, the heavy wood groaning in protest.
Inside, the main hall was a cavernous space, its high ceiling supported by thick timber beams. Notice boards plastered with wanted posters and mission requests covered one wall, while sturdy oak tables and benches filled the common area, already bustling with a mix of weathered adventurers and nervous hopefuls. The air hummed with a low murmur of voices, the clink of coin, and the faint scent of stale ale and sweat.
Elian's gaze swept the room, taking in every detail, every face. His instincts, honed by Aeliana, screamed caution. He spotted the reception desk, a long counter manned by several busy Guildsmen. He approached the nearest one, a young man with neatly combed brown hair and a perpetually harried expression, whose name tag read Theron.
"Excuse me," Elian said, his voice quiet, almost lost in the din. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. "I… I wish to register as an Adventurer."
Theron looked up, his eyes scanning Elian's simple attire. "Another one, eh? Alright, lad. Name? Any prior experience? Essence?" He didn't wait for answers, already reaching for a stack of parchments. "Just a moment, I'll get the forms. They're quite extensive."
While Theron shuffled papers, a new presence arrived at the adjacent reception counter. Elian felt a subtle shift in the air, a disciplined, almost rigid energy. He glanced over. A young man, perhaps a year or so older than himself, stood ramrod straight. His dark hair, unnaturally vibrant, was a striking shade of dyed red, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose, giving him an intellectual, almost severe look. He wore practical, but clearly expensive, traveling clothes.
"I wish to register as an Adventurer," the newcomer stated, his voice cool and precise, utterly devoid of Elian's earlier nervousness. He addressed the Guildswoman next to Theron, who was already reaching for her own stack of forms.
Elian's gaze lingered for a moment. They were about the same age, both clearly new to this. But the other boy carried himself with a stark, almost regal confidence that Elian couldn't fathom. He looked away as Theron slid a thick stack of parchments across the counter.
"Here you go, lad. Fill these out. Take your time, but not too much. The Entrance Exam begins in the main hall shortly."
Just as Elian took the forms, a new wave of commotion rippled through the Guild Hall's entrance. All heads turned.
Captain Roric, a grizzled Guild Hunter with a booming laugh and shoulders like a bull, strode into the hall. He was flanked by two figures, both young, both familiar. Lyra and Finnian. Lyra's usually tense shoulders seemed a fraction lighter, and Finnian, though still quiet, walked with a subtle spring in his step. They looked tired, but free.
"Ah, good, you two are up and about!" Roric boomed, clapping Finnian on the back, making the boy stumble slightly. "Finished making my reports yesterday, slept like logs, I trust? Now, time to get you registered, eh?"
Lyra offered a small, genuine smile, a rare sight on her usually guarded face. "Thank you, Captain Roric. For everything. For… saving us. Again."
Roric waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense, girl. Just doing my job. And the Guild's job. You two are brave kids. And you're welcome to stay with my squad, if you wish. Plenty of space, good company."
Lyra shook her head, her eyes meeting Finnian's. "You've given us so much already, Captain. But… we need to stand on our own. We want to earn our own freedom. The kind we've never had before."
Finnian nodded, a silent, resolute agreement.
Roric's grin widened. "Understood. A true Adventurer's spirit! Alright, Theron, my lad, and you, Elara," he called to the receptionists. "Forms for these two! Lyra and Finnian. They're ready to join the ranks."
Just as Lyra and Finnian received their own stacks of forms, Elian finished signing his name on the last line of his parchment. Theron nodded. "Alright, Vance. Head through that archway there. The exam's about to begin."
Elian turned, clutching his completed forms, and headed towards the indicated archway. As he did, another figure entered the Guild Hall, pausing just inside the massive oak doors. It was a boy, no older than himself, with spectacles perched on a perpetually messy head of sandy-brown hair, already pulling a worn notebook from his pocket, his bright eyes darting around, analyzing every detail of the Guild Hall's architecture. Ren Kaito. Elian barely registered him, his focus already shifting to the unknown trials ahead.
The main hall beyond the reception area was transformed into a vast proving ground. The central space, usually filled with tables, was now cleared, marked with chalk lines and training dummies. A hushed anticipation hung in the air, thick with the scent of sweat and nervous energy. Dozens of young applicants stood around the perimeter, their faces a mix of hopeful determination and sheer terror.
On a raised dais overlooking the makeshift arena stood a panel of judges. At the center was Guild Master Aerial Forth, the Eastern Branch Head. Her dark braid, thick as a rope, fell over one shoulder, and her eyes, sharp and intelligent, seemed to miss nothing. A subtle aura of crackling energy emanated from her, hinting at a powerful, unseen Essence. Beside her stood Commander Valerius, a grizzled, no-nonsense man with a scarred face, who would be conducting the exam. He was a Tier 3 Essenced Guild Officer, his presence exuding a quiet authority. The other two judges were veteran adventurers: Master Joric Ironhand, a burly Tier 3 adventurer whose calloused hands looked like they could crush stone, and Master Borin Shieldbreaker, a stoic Tier 4 adventurer whose presence radiated an unyielding resilience.
Commander Valerius stepped forward, his voice booming across the hall. "Attention, applicants! You stand before the Hunter Guild, not a parlor game. The wilderness does not forgive weakness. Your lives, and the lives of those you protect, will depend on your skill, your courage, and your ability to adapt. Today, we test your fundamentals. Your knowledge, your physical aptitude, and your raw potential."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "The exam will proceed as a series of duels. You will be paired against another applicant, or in some cases, a small team. Losing the match does not mean you fail. Your objective is not simply to win, but to showcase your power, your skill, and your ability to adapt under pressure. The judges will be observing everything. We will decide if you possess the capability and the spirit to become a Hunter. Now, let the trials begin!"
The first match began, a blur of nervous energy and clumsy strikes. A young man with a glowing fist faced off against a woman wielding a short sword, their movements hesitant, their Essences flaring weakly. The crowd murmured, the judges watched impassively.
Match after match, the hall filled with the clang of blunted steel, the hiss of minor Essence flares, and the shouts of the proctors. Some applicants showed promise, others faltered under the pressure.
"Next up!" Commander Valerius's voice cut through the air. "Applicant Vance! Elian Vance! And his opponent, Lord Arion Thorne!"
A ripple went through the crowd. Lord Arion Thorne was a familiar name in the Eastern Region, a scion of a minor noble family, known for his arrogant swagger. He was a man of twenty-four, broad-shouldered and self-assured, his expensive, well-maintained spear gleaming in the hall's light. He strode into the arena, a sneer on his face as he spotted Elian, who looked barely fifteen.
"Well, well," Arion drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "Look what the cat dragged in. A whelp. Still wet behind the ears, aren't you, boy? You should just leave now, little one. This isn't a game for children. I, for one, have already resonated with a Tier 2 Storm-Bee Essence," he bragged, puffing out his chest. "Grants me the wings of a bee, you see, for incredible speed. And my spear here," he tapped the shaft of his weapon, "is imbued with a Water Crystal. It's not too late to run back to your mother, boy."
Elian's green eyes, usually so calm, narrowed almost imperceptibly. His hand instinctively went to the silver ring beneath his tunic. He looked at Arion, then at the judges, his face unreadable. "Thank you for the advice, Lord Thorne," Elian said, his voice quiet, but clear, "but no."
A low gong reverberated through the hall – the signal to start.
Arion launched himself forward immediately, a blur of motion. His spear, its tip coated with a swirling, miniature vortex of water, lunged for Elian's chest. It was a swift, powerful strike, designed to end the match quickly.
But Elian wasn't there. He simply wasn't. He moved with a speed that defied the eye, a fluid, almost ethereal shift of weight. He seemed to flow around the attack, his body a whisper of motion, his footsteps making no sound on the dusty arena floor. Arion's spear whistled through empty air.
Arion's face flushed crimson. "You little rat!" he snarled, his arrogance giving way to anger. He roared, and then, with a flash of light, his Tier 2 Storm-Bee Essence flared. From his back erupted two pairs of translucent, shimmering bee wings, buzzing with a low hum. He became a whirlwind of motion, darting and weaving, his spear a constant, blurring threat. He was incredibly fast, far faster than any normal human.
Yet, Elian was still faster. He dodged, weaved, and spun, his movements a graceful, impossible dance. He didn't just evade; he flowed around Arion's attacks, always a step ahead, always just out of reach. His evasive skill wasn't a conscious Essence ability yet, but a natural talent honed by years of Aeliana's silent teachings, a pure, instinctual understanding of movement and space. He was the wind, the stillness, the shadow.
As Arion grew more frantic, his attacks wider, more desperate, Elian's hand moved. A shimmer, a faint distortion in the air, and then, solidifying from nothingness, a pair of sleek, bone-white daggers formed in his grasp. The Whisperwind Blades, extensions of his will, razor-sharp and impossibly light. He didn't hesitate. In a single, fluid motion, he flowed through Arion's next wild lunge, appearing as if by magic directly behind the bewildered noble, his daggers resting, cold and precise, against Arion's throat.
The sound of a sharp whistle cut through the stunned silence. Commander Valerius's voice was crisp. "Match over! Elian Vance wins!"
Arion Thorne stood frozen for a moment, then spun, his face a mask of furious disbelief. "What?! That's impossible! He didn't even use his Essence! He just… moved!"
The judges, however, were impassive. Guild Master Forth's eyes held a subtle gleam of interest. Master Joric Ironhand grunted, a flicker of admiration in his gaze. Master Borin Shieldbreaker nodded slowly, a rare smile playing on his lips.
In the audience, Kaelen Ignis watched, his usual stoicism momentarily cracked. That speed… he thought, his analytical mind already dissecting Elian's movements. He barely moved, yet he was everywhere.
Lyra nudged Finnian. "Did you see that, Finn? He's fast. Really fast."
Finnian, who had been quietly munching on a dried fruit snack, looked up, a small piece of fruit clinging to his lip. "Hmm? Oh. He won, then?" He hadn't been paying attention to the match itself, more focused on the subtle vibrations of the arena floor.
Ren Kaito, perched on a crate, his notebook open, furiously scribbled diagrams and calculations. "Remarkable Aetherial displacement! A near-perfect kinetic energy transfer through minimal physical exertion! Fascinating!" He was utterly engrossed, oblivious to the angry glares of Arion Thorne. These five, the youngest applicants in the hall, had already started to make their mark.
The next match proceeded, but the hall still buzzed with Elian's unexpected victory.
"Next match!" Commander Valerius called. "Lyra and Finnian! You will face… Applicants Gorok and Kael."
Lyra and Finnian stepped forward, their opponents two burly young men, seemingly in their early twenties, their muscles bulging even beneath their simple tunics. They looked strong, confident, and ready for a brawl.
The gong sounded.
Lyra and Finnian immediately fell into their familiar formation. Finnian, the Shield, moved to the front, his broad shoulders squared, his stance wide and grounded. Lyra, the Spear, flowed to his rear, her movements fluid, her eyes scanning their opponents.
Gorok, one of the opponents, roared and charged Finnian, his heavy club swinging in a wide arc. Kael, the other, darted around Finnian's flank, aiming for Lyra.
But Finnian was ready. His Plated Turtle Essence flared, and hardened, shell-like plates materialized across his forearms and shoulders, gleaming faintly. He didn't try to dodge Gorok's attack. He simply raised his arm, absorbing the blow with a dull thud that echoed through the hall. The club bounced off his reinforced arm, leaving only a faint scuff mark. Finnian held his ground, an immovable bulwark.
As Gorok reeled, Lyra moved. Her Falcon Essence sang, and from her hands, razor-sharp feather-like projectiles materialized, shimmering with a ruby-red light. She fired them in a rapid, continuous volley, a deadly hail of precision. The feathers whistled through the air, forcing Kael to abandon his attack on Finnian and raise his arms to shield his face. They weren't designed to kill, but to sting, to disorient, to force a retreat.
Finnian, having absorbed Gorok's attack, moved with a surprising, deliberate step, pushing the larger man off balance. Lyra's feathers continued to pepper Kael, forcing him to dance back, unable to get close. The siblings moved in perfect synchronicity, Finnian absorbing the blows, creating openings, while Lyra provided relentless, precise cover fire. Their opponents, strong as they were, couldn't get past Finnian's unyielding defense, nor could they withstand Lyra's constant, stinging assault. They were a wall and a storm, impenetrable and relentless.
"Stop!" Commander Valerius called, a rare smile gracing his lips. "Match over! Lyra and Finnian win!"
The crowd erupted in applause. The judges, particularly Guild Master Forth, exchanged approving glances. "Remarkable teamwork," she murmured, her eyes glinting. "A true synergy." Master Borin Shieldbreaker clapped his massive hands together, a booming sound. "That's how it's done! A proper shield and spear!"
The matches continued, the energy in the hall palpable. Then, it was Kaelen's turn.
"Next up! Applicant Ignis! Kaelen Ignis! And his opponent, Sir Gareth Stonehand!"
Kaelen stepped into the arena, his posture as rigid as ever. His opponent, a burly knight in training from a minor noble house, wielded a heavy broadsword and a Tier 1 Stone-Fist Essence, which made his punches hit like hammers.
The gong sounded.
Sir Gareth charged, roaring, his broadsword arcing in a powerful, but predictable, overhead strike. Kaelen didn't use his Essence. No silvery glow emanated from his hands, no subtle healing energy. He simply moved. His blade, a gleaming extension of his arm, met Gareth's with a sharp clang. He parried, not with brute force, but with a precise deflection that redirected Gareth's momentum. He spun, his footwork a blur, and Gareth's next swing met only air.
Kaelen was a dancer of steel. His movements were fluid, economical, every parry, every riposte, every step honed by years of relentless training under the unforgiving gaze of his father and the cruel expectations of his stepmother. He moved with a grace that belied his power, his blade a silver flash in the arena. He didn't overpower Gareth; he outmaneuvered him, his sword finding the gaps in Gareth's guard, tapping his armor with the flat of his blade, signaling a dozen potential killing blows. He was a master of the blade, his skill undeniable, a testament to sheer, unyielding discipline.
Gareth, frustrated, tried to use his Stone-Fist Essence, his hand glowing with raw power as he lunged for a punch. Kaelen sidestepped, his blade a whisper, and tapped Gareth's wrist, then his elbow, then his shoulder. Three quick, precise taps, any of which could have severed a limb. Gareth stumbled back, disarmed, his chest heaving, his face a mask of bewildered defeat.
"Match over! Kaelen Ignis wins!" Commander Valerius declared.
A stunned silence filled the hall, then erupted into applause. The judges looked at each other. Guild Master Forth raised an eyebrow. "No Essence use," she murmured, "yet that was a masterclass in swordsmanship. Remarkable." Master Joric Ironhand nodded, a low whistle escaping his lips. "That boy's got steel in his veins."
Finally, it was Ren's turn.
"Next up! Applicant Kaito! Ren Kaito! And his opponent, Master Torvin!"
Ren, looking utterly delighted, bounced into the arena. His opponent, a burly, veteran adventurer with a Tier 2 Earth-Skin Essence, looked annoyed.
The gong sounded.
Ren didn't charge. Instead, he pulled a peculiar, gun-like device from his belt. It was a sleek, metallic contraption, clearly of his own design, with a slot near the barrel. He quickly slotted a small, glowing Fire Crystal Drop into it. A low hum emanated from the device, and a small, contained flame flickered at the barrel's tip.
"Heheheh!" Ren giggled, a nervous but excited sound. "Look at my invention! Be amazed!" He aimed the device. "This is my Aether-Weaver, Master Torvin! It channels elemental energy through focused Aetherial conduits! Watch this!"
He pulled a trigger, and a thin, searing laser of pure fire erupted from the barrel, streaking across the arena. Master Torvin, startled, barely managed to roll out of the way, the laser scorching the ground where he'd stood. Ren laughed, a genuine, uninhibited sound, and fired again, and again, a continuous stream of fire lasers. The air filled with the smell of ozone and burnt dust.
Torvin, frustrated, tried to close the distance, activating his Earth-Skin Essence, his skin hardening to a rocky texture. But Ren was too fast with his shots, too relentless. The fire lasers weren't powerful enough to pierce Torvin's hardened skin, but they were hot, stinging, and forced him to constantly evade, unable to get close. Ren was a whirlwind of scientific chaos, his eyes alight with glee as he unleashed his invention.
"Amazing, isn't it?!" Ren shouted, dodging a rock Torvin threw. "It can use any elemental Crystal Drop! Fire, water, even air! Imagine the possibilities!"
Torvin, sweating and singed, finally threw up his hands. "Alright! Alright! I yield! I can't get near you, boy!"
"Match over! Ren Kaito wins!" Commander Valerius announced, a bewildered expression on his face. Guild Master Forth, however, had a speculative, almost hungry look in her eyes. Master Borin Shieldbreaker scratched his head, clearly perplexed.
The day wore on with the rest of the matches, but the five young applicants had already made their indelible mark.
As the day drew to a close, the applicants, exhausted but buzzing with anticipation, gathered in the main hall. The Guild Masters, their faces now unreadable, stood before them. Guild Master Aerial Forth, the stern woman from earlier, cleared her throat, her voice cutting through the nervous chatter.
"The results are in," she announced, her voice echoing through the hall. "Many of you possess potential. Some of you, however, possess something more. Something… unique." Her gaze swept over the five protagonists, lingering for a moment on each.
"Elian Vance. Your connection to the wild is undeniable. Your agility, unmatched. You possess a unique resonance, one we have rarely seen."
"Kaelen Ignis. Your discipline is exemplary. Your combat prowess, refined. Amazing swordsmanship skills."
"Lyra and Finnian. Your teamwork is commendable. Your individual Essences, powerful and complementary. A formidable pair."
"And Ren Kaito. Your intellect is prodigious. Your understanding of Aether, unparalleled… a fascinating anomaly."
She proceeded to call the rest of those who passed as well, listing a dozen or so names of other successful applicants.
She paused, letting her words sink in. "Individually, you are strong. But the Guild faces threats that require more than individual strength. They require synergy. Unconventional thinking. And a willingness to trust those who are different."
She then pointed to a Guildsman holding a stack of small, polished wooden plaques. "By the authority of the Hunter Guild, I hereby declare all of you Tier Initiates. Your journey begins now."
A murmur of excitement rippled through the hall. Tier Initiate was the entry level, as expected. But then, Guild Master Forth continued, her voice gaining a new edge, her eyes fixing on the five youngest.
"As you all know, your first missions will be assigned by the Guild. After proving yourselves, you can choose your missions yourself. We will now announce the provisional party assignments." She began to call out groups one by one, pairing two or three adventurers together. Then, her voice rose, cutting through the diminishing chatter.
"Elian Vance, Kaelen Ignis, Lyra, Finnian, and Ren Kaito. You five will form a provisional party. Your first mission will be detailed tomorrow morning. Report to the briefing room at dawn. Do not be late."
Five pairs of eyes, each carrying the weight of a unique past, now met across the crowded hall. Elian, the wild heart, his green eyes narrowed in quiet assessment. Kaelen, the fallen noble, his dark gaze piercing. Lyra and Finnian, the inseparable survivors, their expressions a mix of apprehension and fierce determination. And Ren, the curious prodigy, his spectacles glinting with a sudden, analytical interest in his new companions. They were strangers, bound by a shared starting point in a dangerous world, and by the unspoken knowledge that their extraordinary Essences had marked them for something more. Their paths had converged. The true adventure was about to begin.