The morning sun spilled over the horizon, painting the forests and rolling hills in soft shades of gold.
A faint mist clung to the ground, lifting in lazy curls as warmth began to chase away the chill of night. Hunnt stood at the edge of the clearing where they had camped, the straps of his travel pack cinched tightly across his shoulders. He flexed his gauntlets, testing the weight of steel and resolve alike.
Today was different. Today marked his first true day as a drifter—not a guild recruit, not a boy waiting for permission, but a wandering hunter of his own making.
He lifted his fists into the light and studied them closely. The emblem of the Eternal Wanderer gleamed subtly, etched into the metal plates of his gauntlets. A black circle formed the base, a triangle pointed upward at the center, and within that shape lay the faint outline of a clenched fist. Along the edges, small decorative dots and streaks traced outward, like sparks from a forge or the trails of stars.
Every time Hunnt closed his hands, the emblem seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive. It was more than decoration. It was a promise—a reminder of the vow he had spoken in the firelight, the weight of responsibility he had accepted, and the fire of determination he refused to let die. This emblem would guide him, and one day, others.
Pyro padded up beside him, tail swishing as his keen eyes caught the morning light. "Master… the emblem," he said, tilting his head. "It's on your gauntlets?"
Hunnt nodded, lowering his fists but keeping his gaze firm. "Yes, Pyro. It's subtle, but it will be our mark. Only those who truly understand will recognize it. When others see it, they may not know the meaning, but to us? It will stand for who we are… and what we represent."
The Palico purred approvingly, rubbing briefly against his leg before trotting ahead on the path.
The road stretched onward, winding through the forested hills beyond Ironvale. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, and the songs of morning birds echoed faintly. Hunnt's thoughts wandered as his boots pressed against the dirt. Being a drifter meant freedom: no guild rules, no restrictions, no politics, no ledger to tell him where he could or could not belong. But that same freedom came with heavier chains of responsibility. Every choice was his alone. Every failure would weigh on him directly. And every step forward had to be measured against the lives he could protect.
By midday, the path led them to a small riverside village. Smoke drifted lazily from crooked chimneys, the smell of stew mingling with damp reeds. Children darted between wooden carts and vegetable stalls, laughter echoing in the air. For a moment, Hunnt allowed himself to breathe easier. Yet as his eyes scanned the area, the details told a harsher truth: fences torn open, fresh tracks in the mud, and the faint echo of a growl carried on the wind.
His hand curled into a fist. "They've got trouble," he said softly. "Stay close, Pyro."
From the treeline, shadows moved. A pack of wild beasts burst forth, lean and agile, with teeth like daggers and claws that glinted in the light. Their growls rolled low, full of hunger, their eyes fixed on the livestock corral just beyond the village's edge. The animals bleated and scattered in panic.
Hunnt did not hesitate.
Rules in mind, he thought, recalling the silent laws he had set for himself. No one nearby to see but the beasts. No hunters, no civilians watching. Armament Haki, Rokushiki—they're allowed here.
He surged forward, his fists blurring with speed. Observation Haki sharpened his senses, allowing him to feel every twitch of muscle, every shift of intent from the beasts before they even lunged. He struck at joints and tendons, disabling limbs without killing. His gauntlets darkened as Armament Haki flowed over them, ensuring every blow landed with punishing force.
A beast swiped at him; Hunnt dropped low, his body hardening with Tekkai for a split instant, the claws scraping harmlessly across his defense. He countered with a driving uppercut, sending the creature sprawling. Another lunged from behind, but with a whisper of motion Hunnt vanished in a burst of speed—Soru carrying him behind the beast before it could react. His strike crashed into its hind leg, dropping it to the dirt.
Pyro moved in perfect rhythm beside him. His SnS gleamed, the shield flashing as he intercepted lunges and fangs. He used his agility to dance between the predators, tail lashing as he anticipated their attacks with his own Observation Haki. When one leapt high, Pyro rolled beneath and countered with a precise slash that sent it stumbling into Hunnt's waiting fist.
Together, hunter and companion flowed like a single force. Where Hunnt struck, Pyro defended. Where Pyro opened a path, Hunnt finished the strike.
The battle did not last long. The pack snarled, yelped, and finally, after suffering calculated non-lethal blows, retreated into the forest, limping and defeated but alive. The message was clear: the village was not easy prey.
Hunnt lowered his fists slowly, his breathing steady, gauntlets gleaming faintly with sunlight and sweat. The silence that followed was heavier than the fight itself.
The villagers stood frozen at the edge of their fields. Wide eyes stared, mouths half-open in awe and uncertainty. For many of them, it was the first time they had seen monsters driven away without bloodshed, without ruin left behind.
An elder shuffled forward, leaning heavily on a cane. His voice trembled, but it carried a note of respect. "Who… who are you?"
Hunnt paused. His gaze flicked briefly to Pyro, then back to the old man. He raised one gauntlet, letting the emblem catch the light. "We're drifters," he said simply. "Hunters who protect those in need. No names, no recognition. Just remember—stay alert, help each other, and prepare. Danger comes for those who are unprepared."
He left it at that.
Pyro pressed against his side, tail flicking. The villagers whispered among themselves, some with awe, some with curiosity, but none dared pry further. The simplicity of Hunnt's words carried its own weight, as though the fewer answers he gave, the more mysterious—and trustworthy—the figure before them became.
They did not linger. By the time gratitude began to form on the villagers' lips, Hunnt and Pyro were already walking the dirt road beyond, fading into the horizon.
The sun dipped low by evening, casting warm amber light across the forest. They found a small clearing near the river and built a modest camp. Hunnt knelt beside the fire, feeding it twigs and dry grass until flames licked upward once more.
His gaze fell again to his gauntlets. The emblem gleamed faintly in the firelight—the black circle, the triangle, the clenched fist surrounded by delicate flourishes. For the first time since etching it, he felt its weight not just as a design, but as a living creed.
"Every drifter will carry this mark," he murmured aloud. "A symbol of duty, loyalty, and purpose. Quiet, unseen, but always present. A vow bound not by paper or guild, but by heart."
Pyro shifted closer, resting his head against Hunnt's knee. His golden eyes flickered with firelight, reflecting something between pride and question. "Master… the path… it's endless, isn't it?"
Hunnt nodded, jaw tightening, resolve shining through his calm expression. "Yes, Pyro. The path has no end, and the hunt has no master. But that's what makes it worth walking. Every step we take, every monster we stop, every life we protect—that's the journey. That's why we keep moving forward."
The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows that reached across the clearing. Above, the first stars began to pierce the twilight. Hunnt lifted his gaze to them, feeling the vastness of the world pressing down and lifting him up all at once. Villages would still burn, hunters would still laugh and sneer, and danger would never sleep. But the Eternal Wanderer was no longer just an idea whispered in the dark. It lived, breathed, and carried weight.
It lived in his fists. It lived in Pyro's devotion. It lived in the emblem that bound them both.
Hunnt clenched his hands, the etched mark glimmering with firelight. "We walk as drifters, Pyro. Protectors of the innocent. Hunters of the threats. Keepers of secrets that must never be broken. This… this is only the beginning."
Pyro let out a soft yip, tail flicking with energy, his ears standing tall. Together, they lay beneath the stars, side by side. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new paths, and new hunts. But tonight, the first step had been taken, the vow spoken in action if not yet in ceremony.
And far above, the stars seemed to shift faintly, as though bearing silent witness to the birth of something greater than either of them could yet imagine.
The Eternal Wanderer had begun to walk the world.