The Hollowshade Guild was nothing like Kael had imagined.
He had heard stories of towering halls, banners filled with glory, and hunters clashing mugs of ale after felling beasts. But when he stood before the gate, reality was far different.
The guild was a fortress of black stone, its walls scarred by claw marks of creatures that once tried to breach it. Gargoyle statues crouched along the edges of the roof, glowing faintly with warding runes. Inside, instead of drunken laughter, the air buzzed with tension—hunters gathered in small groups, eyes sharp, hands always close to their weapons.
At the center of the hall, a massive quest board stretched from floor to ceiling. Sheets of parchment fluttered with the weight of jobs—slaying monsters, clearing cursed ruins, retrieving artifacts. Each one stamped with a rank: E to S.
Kael's gaze locked on the golden letters at the very top.
S-Rank.
That was his goal. His reason for breathing.
But before he could even dream of reaching it, he needed a team.
---
"Fresh blood, huh?" a voice called out.
Kael turned. A boy with sandy hair leaned lazily against a pillar, spinning a dagger between his fingers. His grin was sharp, playful, but his eyes were alert—like a fox waiting for prey.
"Name's Aric," he said, tossing the dagger and catching it by the hilt. "Scout and thief. I move fast, I strike faster. And you… you look like you're gonna get yourself killed without someone watching your back."
Before Kael could reply, a shadow loomed over him. A massive figure in plated armor stood there, built like a moving fortress. A great axe rested across his shoulders, as if it weighed nothing.
"Brak," he said simply, voice like grinding stone. "Frontline tank. You fight, I keep you alive. Don't get in my way."
Kael nodded. He didn't need flowery words—Brak's presence spoke enough.
And then he noticed her.
A girl sat quietly by the quest board, flipping through a tome glowing faintly with runes. Her silver eyes lifted, locking onto Kael. For a moment, he felt like she could see straight through him.
"Lyra," she introduced herself in a soft, calm voice. "Mage. Illusions, binding, and elemental control. If you intend to rush blindly into death, don't expect me to waste my mana saving you."
Kael blinked, then smirked.
"Good thing I don't plan on dying."
---
The guild doors slammed shut, and the guildmaster appeared. A tall woman with an eyepatch and scarred cheek, her presence colder than steel. Every hunter in the hall straightened at once.
"Listen up!" she barked. "A Class-B mission just came in—north woods, Hollowfang pack spotted. Too many for a single squad. Form your parties. Prove your worth."
The room erupted into movement. Hunters shouted, cliques formed, weapons clashed against shields in excitement.
Kael's eyes darted to Aric, Brak, and Lyra.
Misfits. Outsiders. Yet something told him fate had placed them together.
"What do you say?" Kael asked, extending his hand.
Aric smirked. Brak grunted. Lyra hesitated—then closed her tome with a snap.
Their hands met.
For the first time since that cursed night years ago, Kael felt it.
A spark.
The beginning of something greater.