The cavern gate loomed like the jaw of some ancient beast. Rusted iron teeth jutted upward, half-broken, half-repaired with scavenged chains. Lanterns burned low, their light barely reaching the stone floor. Beyond the bars stretched only blackness.
He arrived just before midnight. His pouch clinked softly at his hip, every step echoing too loud in the silence. His pulse hammered.
This is insane. I don't even know who the fuck I am, and now I'm showing up to meet some predator in the dark like a lost puppy.
A shadow peeled itself from the wall. Kael.
The hunter's hood was down this time, sharp grey eyes glinting under the lantern glow. His smirk was unchanged—knife-sharp, infuriating.
"Good," Kael drawled. "You didn't run."
The boy scowled. "Not yet."
Kael chuckled, low and amused. "Follow."
The gate groaned open on rusted hinges. Cold air spilled from the darkness beyond, smelling of wet stone and something faintly sour. They stepped into the tunnels. Lanterns hung far apart, leaving yawning stretches of shadow where even sound seemed to vanish.
"Where the fuck are we going?" the boy asked.
"Hunting grounds," Kael replied smoothly. "The slums bleed into the tunnels. Desperate people hide there. Thieves. Runaways. Easy prey."
"Prey…" His jaw clenched. "You mean people."
Kael shot him a sidelong look. "You think you'll survive clinging to that word? Out here, everything's either predator or prey. Choose which you want to be."
Silence stretched. The boy's fists tightened.
They walked deeper until the cavern widened into a crooked clearing. The ceiling dripped with moisture, the stone floor slick with moss. In the corner, two figures huddled by a dying fire.
Kael raised a finger to his lips. Then he whispered, "Lesson one. Pick your target. Take their coin."
The boy froze. "You're serious—"
Kael's smile was sharp as glass. "Dead serious."
The boy's pulse pounded in his ears. The two figures by the fire looked pitiful—thin, ragged, clutching each other like stray dogs against the cold.
"You want me to rob them?" he hissed.
"Rob. Kill. Doesn't matter," Kael murmured, eyes glinting. "Either you take, or you're taken from. That's how the world works."
His stomach twisted. He had just enough strength in his body to swing a sword-form he barely remembered, and this bastard wanted him to spill blood like it was buying fruit.
"I'm not a murderer," he whispered.
Kael snorted. "You're a blank slate in a market built on memories. You've already murdered yourself. The rest is just practice."
The words hit like a slap. His hands shook. He wanted to argue, scream, deny—but a darker whisper curled in his chest. He's right. I have nothing. No name. No past. No one. If I don't take, I'll lose even this borrowed breath.
The fire crackled. One of the figures coughed weakly, shifting under a thin blanket. The sound made his grip tighten on the empty sheath Kael had tossed him earlier. A rusted dagger's hilt dug into his palm.
"Go," Kael urged.
He stepped forward. Each pace felt like sinking into quicksand. The dagger weighed a hundred pounds. His breath caught in his throat.
I can't…
Then the huddled figure looked up. Hollow eyes, empty as stone. The boy froze, staring into the face of someone already broken. Not a person. A husk.
Something inside him cracked. His body moved before his mind caught up. The dagger flashed.
Warmth sprayed his hand. A strangled cry cut off in a gurgle. The world blurred into crimson and silence.
His knees buckled. The dagger clattered to the mossy floor. He gasped, staring at his shaking, blood-slicked fingers.
"I… I…"
Kael's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Good."
The boy's stomach churned, bile rising to his throat. He wanted to vomit, scream, claw the blood off his skin. Instead, he just shivered.
Kael crouched, prying a faintly glowing coin from the corpse's temple. The rune shimmered weakly, a swirl of jagged lines.
"See? Payment for survival." Kael flipped the coin, then tossed it to him.
It landed in his palm, still warm.
The boy stared at it, chest heaving. Every instinct screamed to throw it away. But his fingers tightened.
Kael's smirk widened. "Lesson two: once you taste blood, you'll never stop hungering."
The boy's voice was hoarse, broken. "…Then maybe I'll starve."
Kael's laugh echoed through the cavern, cold and sharp. "We'll see."