The house was still.The lamps were off.Serik slept deeply in his small new bed, wrapped in the warmth of forgotten safety.
Outside, the wind brushed against the wooden walls.
A shadow approached.
The masked assassin crouched beneath Serik's bedroom window, his boots silent on the grass. He lifted his pistol, suppressor attached, hand steady as a surgeon.
"This will be quick, kid," he muttered. "Nothing personal."
He raised the gun—
But before his finger could pull the trigger…
A flash.
A pressure in the air.
A soft, wet sound.
The assassin blinked.
His vision tilted sideways.
He saw his own body still kneeling by the window.
And then the last thing he ever saw—
was Jons.
Standing perfectly straight, posture elegant, holding a thin blade darker than night.
The assassin's head hit the grass.
Everything went black.
Jons exhaled quietly, his face calm, almost bored.
"I hope this is the last one," he murmured.
He fetched a black body bag from the shed beside the house — clearly something he kept prepared. He slid the corpse inside with practiced efficiency, zipped it, and lifted it onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
Under a solitary streetlight behind the house, he dug into the earth with steady, disciplined movements.No rush.No hesitation.
When the grave was deep enough, he buried the bag, packed the dirt, and patted it flat as though tending a garden.
He wiped his gloves clean.
Inside the house, Serik dreamed peacefully, unaware that death had stood outside his window.
The next morning
Sunlight crept into Serik's room.
He blinked awake, yawning, stretching his small arms.He rubbed his eyes, then opened his door.
Jons stood waiting in the hallway, perfectly dressed, posture straight.
"Good morning, young master."
Serik smiled sleepily."Good morning, Jons."
They went downstairs together.
Breakfast was already set — warm bread, eggs, and fruit. Serik ate happily while Jons took measured bites, always watching him out of the corner of his eye, making sure the boy felt safe.
When they finished, Jons folded his napkin neatly.
"Young master," he said, "since you have never visited Swandani City… would you like to take a walk? I believe it would be… educational."
Serik's face lit up.
"Yes! I want to see everything."
Jons nodded with a soft smile."Then let us prepare."
The city was alive with sound.Vibrant markets, chatter of merchants, carts rolling over brick roads, colors everywhere.
Serik looked around like a child stepping into a fairy tale.
Tall buildings mixed with old stone shops.Dozens of species of birds perched on telephone wires.Children played in alleys.Vendors shouted about exotic fruits and shimmering fabrics.
It was messy. Loud. Chaotic.
Serik loved it.
"Jons, what's that building?" he asked, pointing.
Jons answered each question patiently, explaining shops, districts, old landmarks.
But then—
Serik stopped walking.
His eyes widened.
Ahead stood a large tower-like structure with the symbol of a bold, stylized H carved into its stone entrance.
"Jons… what is THAT?"
Jons folded his hands behind him.
"That, young master, is the Hunter Headquarters of Swandani City."
Serik felt something spark in his chest.
"Hunters… the ones from Mom's stories?"
"Indeed," Jons replied. "Hunters take many forms.Some explore the unknown.Some research magical beasts.Some work as archeologists, treasure seekers, bounty hunters, chefs, musicians… the professions vary greatly."
"And Netero… Mother mentioned him too."
Jons nodded with respect.
"Isaac Netero is the Chairman of the Hunter Association.A man of unparalleled skill, wisdom… and eccentricity."
Serik stared at the building, awe glowing in his eyes.
"Jons… can we go inside?"
The butler shook his head.
"Unfortunately not.Only licensed Hunters or authorized individuals may enter freely."
Serik looked disappointed—
But then, the front doors opened.
A man stepped out.Tall, brown-skinned, wearing a green jacket covered in travel badges.He carried a large pack and a metal case strapped to his back.
Serik's curiosity exploded.
Without thinking, he ran toward him.
"Excuse me! Sir! Are you a Hunter!?"
The man looked down, surprised — then grinned.
"Sure am, kid. Name's Rethon Vale. Beast Researcher and part-time trouble fixer."
Serik's eyes sparkled."What do you do? What's it like? Where have you been?"
Rethon laughed, scratching his beard.
"Whoa, slow down! I've been all over — helping villages deal with magical beasts, studying rare species, mapping unknown tunnels… you know, the usual Hunter stuff."
"The usual sounds amazing…" Serik whispered.
Rethon crouched down to eye level.
"You wanna be a Hunter someday?"
Serik nodded instantly."Yes! I want to explore the world… like my grandfather did!"
Rethon smiled warmly.
"Then remember this:Hunters live freely.But that freedom is earned, kid.Earned with strength, courage, and heart."
Serik stood taller, inspired.
"Thank you, Mr. Vale!"
"Anytime."Rethon walked off toward the market."Maybe I'll see you at the exam one day!"
Serik returned to Jons, determination bright in his eyes.
"Jons…"
"Yes, young master?"
"I've decided.I'm going to become a Pro Hunter."
Jons looked at him quietly for a moment.
Then he bowed his head.
"As you wish, young master.And I will prepare you for that path."
Swandani City grew even livelier as the afternoon stretched toward dusk.Serik and Jons continued walking through the streets, passing food stalls, musicians, small parks, and buskers breathing fire or juggling blades.
Serik pointed excitedly at almost everything.
"Jons! Look, look!""What's that building?""Why is that man painting on the ground?""What's that smell!?"
"That is street curry," Jons replied calmly. "Quite spicy. Not for you yet."
They turned a corner into the crafts district where blacksmiths hammered metal, sparks flying like fireflies. Serik watched with wide eyes as molten steel glowed bright orange.
They passed a bookstore filled with old maps, a beast clinic caring for injured animals, and a tall statue of some forgotten war hero.
Serik finally asked:
"Jons… how do you know so much about the city?"
Jons answered without missing a step.
"I lived here for nearly fifteen years before I left home."
Serik blinked."Really!? Doing what?"
"I worked odd jobs. Learned the city's structure. And later," he added casually, "I spent a few years as an amateur hunter."
Serik almost tripped.
"WHAT!? You were a hunter!?"
"Amateur," Jons corrected. "Not certified. But I did take certain assignments."
Serik's eyes sparkled like stars.
"Jons, that's amazing! What kind of assignments?! Did you fight beasts? Did you climb mountains? Did you—"
Jons answered each question with calm patience, occasionally even amused.Serik's excitement only grew stronger with each new detail.
They eventually made their way back through a quiet market square glowing with lanterns. The sky deepened into a soft purple as dusk settled.
Once inside, Serik practically vibrated with excitement.
"Jons!! I want to start as soon as possible! I want to be a Hunter! Do we start with lessons? Math? Biology? Anatomy? Beast studies? Should I read books first? Should—"
Jons raised one calm hand.
"No, no, young master. That is all for later."
Serik paused.
"For now," Jons continued, "we will begin with something far more important."
Serik leaned forward eagerly.
"Running."
"…Running?" Serik repeated blankly.
"Running," Jons said firmly. "You need stamina for every activity. Whether studying, traveling, fighting, or exploring. A weak body cannot support a sharp mind."
Serik stood there, stunned.
Then, slowly… a grin spread across his face.
He balled his fist and thumped it against his chest.
"Fine! I can do it!"
Jons nodded, pleased.
"We begin now."
20 minutes later…
Serik was sprinting down a dirt path behind the house, drenched in sweat, tongue practically hanging out of his mouth.
His arms flailed.His steps wobbled.His breaths came out like dying animal noises.
But he did not stop.
He had promised.
When will it stoooooop…?Please… end me…Whyyyyy…
Jons walked beside him calmly at a slow pace, hands behind his back, unfazed.
"Keep running, young master. Until I say stop."
"I—I'm… trying…!" Serik wheezed.
"You are doing well," Jons said politely. "Barely adequate, but well."
Serik almost cried.
Yet he kept going.
One small step at a time.
I can do it… I can be a Hunter… I just… need… to… breathe…
The moon rose slowly overhead, watching a small exhausted boy chase a dream much larger than himself.
And he did not stop running.