The morning bells of Valirin tolled, their echoes rolling through the mist like iron chains dragging across stone. The city never woke in joy; it woke in fear. Beyond its walls lurked forests that birthed nightmares, and so every day began the same—bells tolling, reminding the living of those already gone.
The Hunter Academy rose at the western edge of the city, a fortress more than a school. Its towers were black against the dawn, its gates etched with names of recruits who had entered but never returned. They called it an academy, but it was a crucible.
The courtyard teemed with new recruits. Armor was clinking as the new recruits gathered in the training field. The steel of warriors and rogues gleamed in the light of the sun. Some wore robes traced with runes, others carried twin daggers glinting in the sun. They fell into three groups: warriors, who fought with strength; mages, who wielded flame and frost and would gain knowledge of the arcane; and rogues, who thrived in speed and movements in the shadows.
Among them stood a boy who looked like he belonged nowhere. His hazel hair was ruffled, unkempt, and a pair of plain glasses dulled the sharpness of his gaze. His blue eyes behind the lenses looked tired, unfocused, as though he'd rather be anywhere else. His uniform hung loose on him, and his steps were sluggish, almost clumsy.
That was exactly how he wanted it.
"Pathetic."someone muttered as they passed.
"Why is he even here?" another whispered.
He ignored them.
"Weakling!"
The word was spat with aristocratic venom. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see her. A girl with long violet hair stood tall, her uniform pressed to perfection. She held herself like nobility, chin raised, back straight, eyes narrowed in disdain.
"You shouldn't even be here," she sneered. "The academy is no place for cripples and cowards."
The boy adjusted his glasses calmly. "Good morning to you too, Veyra." he said flatly.
A few recruits chuckled. Others whispered. The violet-haired girl's cheeks flushed, her pride stung. She opened her mouth to retort, but a sharp voice cut through the crowd.
"Form ranks!"
An instructor strode into the courtyard, his armor scarred, his face a map of old wounds. His gaze swept over the recruits like a blade. "Mages to the left. Warriors to the center. Rogues to the right. Move!"
The crowd split quickly. The boy drifted toward the warriors, blending in at the edge. The violet-haired girl joined the mages, her posture rigid, her expression cold. But when her eyes flicked back to him, they burned with disdain.
Training began at once. Warriors were ordered to spar in pairs, blades clashing as instructors barked corrections. Mages lit the air with sparks of fire and frost and other mysterious energies, their chants filling the courtyard. Rogues darted between wooden dummies, their daggers slicing targets with precision.
The boy with glasses stumbled through the motions. His grip on the sword was awkward, his stance unsteady. When paired with another recruit, he allowed himself to be disarmed in seconds, landing on his back in the dirt.
"Useless," his opponent muttered as he walked away.
The boy coughed, pushing himself up slowly, dusting off his uniform as though nothing had happened.
The violet-haired girl's laugh rang across the field. "I told you," she said loudly enough for others to hear. "He's dead the moment he sets foot in a dungeon."
The boy said nothing. He adjusted his glasses again, his expression unreadable.
But inside, he was listening. Watching. Measuring.
Later, when the sun dipped low, the recruits were gathered in the Hall of Stone (A.K.A). Torches burned along the walls, their light casting long shadows. At the front, an instructor stood beside a massive iron gate that led underground.
"The dungeon," he said. "It begins here, beneath the academy. Each floor holds monsters—some weak, some strong. You earn credits for every kill. Credits mean food, weapons, survival. The deeper the floor, the greater the reward… and the greater the risk."
The instructor droned on about dungeon safety, about the value of credits earned by slaying monsters and retrieving cores.
A ripple of excitement and fear passed through the recruits.
"Tomorrow, you will enter in groups," the instructor continued. "But hear this—most of you won't last the year. Some of you won't last the week."
His words hung heavy in the air filling some of them with a cold feeling in their gut.
That night, the violet-haired girl descended alone, sneaking past the sentinels (the dungeon guards). Her pride burned hotter than caution. She was tired of the sneers of other nobles, tired of being mocked as weak. Even as she mocked the hazel-haired boy, she knew how her fellow nobles mocked her in the same way. She wasn't able to meet up with the standard of the other nobles especially her own family. She was a weakling amongst them
This was why she constantly mocked Asher hoping it would make her feel better. Actually, it didn't and she knew it.If she returned with credits, she knew she could silence them all.
*****
The dungeon walls closed around her, damp and cold. The mana torches here shed low light, casting more shadow than light. She struck down goblin-like creatures with trembling hands as she cast spells, earning a few credits as she collected their cores. Her chest swelled with fragile confidence.
As she moved deeper, then she heard it.
A low growl was heard. Heavy footsteps were echoing from deep down the roadway.
From the shadows emerged something wrong—too large, too feral, its red eyes burning with hunger. This monster was not meant for the first floor. Its claws scraped sparks from the stone as it walked closer slowly, mocking her, as if knowing she couldn't fend it off.
The girl froze. "N-No…That's not supposed to.... be here."
It lunged towards her with speed that didn't match its size. As a mage without training she couldn't see it coming.
"THUD!"
Pain exploded through her chest as the blow sent her crashing against the wall. She coughed up a mouth full of blood, her staff slipping from numb fingers. The monster's shadow fell over her as it raised its claws for the killing strike.
Just before it sent her to see her ancestors...
The air shifted.
A presence descended down the dungeon, heavy and suffocating. The beast paused, its red eyes darting nervously into the darkness arond them.
A humanoid figure stepped into view.
His hazel hair spiked upward like fire, defying gravitry with its upward direction. His face carrying a dark expression but unable to hide the beauty. Eyes glowing a terrible violet colour. His aura was suffocating, monstrous, yet utterly human.
The girl's vision blurred. She thought she knew that face, but it looked nothing like what she had in mind. But still, for some reason, she felt they were tightly connected—The weak boy that she always mocked.
The sound of steel clashing sang through the air.
The fight lasted only a heartbeat. The monster's body split open, collapsing in a wet heap of blood. The figure stood over it, his blade dripping red.
He glanced at her once. Not speaking any words. His cold violet eyes screamed violently in her mind, etching its image into her soul.
"What the....."
Her vision went black.
When she woke, she was in the academy infirmary, her body swathed in bandages. The scent of herbs filled the air. Her memories converged in fragments—the monster, the violet glow, the savior who could not be real.
She gasped as she woke up attracting the attention of the female doctor.
"So you're awake," she said briefly before turning back to her desk
The door creaked open.
The boy with ruffled hair and glasses stepped inside, scratching his head as if half-asleep. His blue eyes looked dull behind the lenses, his posture unremarkable, weak.
Her chest tightened as she looked at him. She wanted to scream at him, accuse him—but the memory didn't fit. The savior's gaze had been sharp as blades, his aura terrifying. This boy looked nothing like him.
She turned her face away, scowling.
The boy adjusted his glasses. "Glad you're alive," he said simply as he walked back out.
"Um...excuse me ?" she called the attention of the doctor.
"Yes ?" the beautiful lady answered her.
"Do you know who brought me here ?"
"No. I just heard a knock and saw you at the front when I answered the door."
The girl didn't know what to think anymore. She tried to dispel the thought of those violet eyes and the weakling being connected.