The forest was a suffocating mass—ash, twisted roots, and silence so complete it felt like it could swallow thought itself. Hunger gnawed at my insides with the precision of a blade, carving away softness, leaving only the will to endure.
A flicker of movement—a rabbit darting between the ruins of trees. My voice was low, almost part of the wind. "We need food." Lilith's nod carried exhaustion like a shadow that would never leave her. We moved as specters, slow and certain. When the rabbit faltered, my broken branch punched through warm flesh.
In the shadows, fire hissed and spat at our prize. The first bite was almost a sin—savory and hot, a reminder the world still held taste for those willing to take it.
"Delicious," I murmured, startled by the truth on my tongue.
Lilith's smile was bitter, as if mocking the moment. "Rabbit's common here. But common depends on how sharp your hunt is."
"I grew on bread and milk," I said, voice rough.
We left bone fragments to bleach in the ash and slid deeper into the wild, seeking boar. Their meat was life; their tusks, death.
The black hurricane erupted without warning—a boar, massive and hate-filled. The impact was like stone shattering bone. Pain roared in my ribs, my leg.
The beast turned for the kill.
Lilith stepped forward. One hand rose, her voice cut the air with an incantation. Fire clawed to life in her palm, leaping out to kiss the boar's hide. It screamed, rage melting into retreat.
I stared at her. "You can… use magic?"
Her eyes flickered, but worry anchored them. "You're hurt," she whispered, binding my wounds with care born from necessity, not pity. The smell of her fire lingered as we carved the boar into survival.
Days passed, bones still aching, until we crested a hill. Below, sails and spires glittered in the salt haze. Ys. The empire's hungry port.
Eighteen days over mountains, past storms and near starvation. And for what? Intel. Power. A master who could shape our hands for magic and blade. Someone who knew the sacred—truths about realms divine, and the shadow of Aurexial.
The port reeked of brine and greed. Men shouted, waves crashed, fortunes exchanged hands as fast as cargo vanished. Predators and prey shared the same breath. Lilith walked close, her eyes hunting for danger.
The Demon Hunter Guild loomed black against the screaming harbor, its walls scarred like the hide of a survivor. Above iron doors, the crimson claw dared you to enter, and warned you what it cost.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and blood. Warriors strode past—steel humming with strange enchantment. At the center sat a woman with the cold patience of ink on a ledger.
Her gaze cut me down, then Lilith. "Why are beggars here?"
"We're here to join," I said.
Her lips curled with disdain. "This isn't charity. And her? She doesn't belong."
My voice sharpened. "You're being rude to those who came to fight."
Heavy footsteps silenced the hall. The man who appeared was carved of age and war, silver hair gleaming, shoulders broad enough to part the crowd without effort. Around his neck hung a demon-bone chain, each link pulsing faintly with unspent malice.
Lilith's hand brushed mine.
"You're a receptionist," the man said evenly. "Do your job."
Sharp authority without shouting—it bent the air. Her venom melted.
"Skills?" she asked.
"No."
"Master?"
I frowned. "Why would we need one now?"
The old man's eyes locked on mine—an appraisal. "No master? Then I'll be yours."
Not a boast. A carving of fate in stone.
Names were given, silence hummed with the weight of unspoken things. We had stepped into dangerous ground—and there would be no turning back.
We belonged to the Demon Hunter Guild now.