The air in Redwood Hollow felt strangely heavy that morning, as if the town itself sensed something approaching from beyond the quiet horizon. A pale sunrise filtered through thin clouds, bathing the rooftops in an amber glow that looked almost artificial—like a painting hanging too still in a room where no one dared breathe.
Inside the Walters' home, the atmosphere was just as charged.
Liam was the first to wake, as usual. His body still ached from the previous day's training, but it was the good kind of pain—the kind that whispered of progress and whispered even louder of the danger they were preparing for. He rubbed his eyes as he slipped from his bed and quietly crossed the hallway.
Ethan's snoring stopped abruptly the moment Liam touched his door.
"…I wasn't sleeping," Ethan mumbled from inside. "I was meditating."
Liam opened the door anyway. Ethan was definitely drooling.
"Sure. Meditating on your pillow," Liam said.
Ethan wiped his face and tossed a rolled-up sock at Liam. "Shut up."
Liam caught it. "You ready?"
"For what? Morning training?" Ethan groaned. "Hunter's not even awake yet."
Liam frowned. "He's been awake since four. I heard him in the garage."
Ethan froze. "Oh no."
"Oh yes."
The brothers exchanged a look—a mixture of dread and excitement—before heading downstairs.
The garage door was slightly ajar, warm light leaking through the gap. Inside, the familiar scent of oil and old wood mingled with the faint metallic tang that Liam and Ethan now recognized as mana residue—a trace left behind when Hunter used techniques far stronger than he let them see.
They pushed the door open.
Hunter stood in the center of the room, sweat dripping from his arms, his breath calm and controlled. In front of him, several chunks of reinforced steel lay split cleanly in half, their edges cut with surgical precision—too precise for any normal blade.
The brothers stared.
"…Dad?" Ethan whispered.
Hunter turned slightly, wiping his forehead with a towel. He was wearing his usual faded training shirt, but the fabric clung to him in places where faint scars glimmered in the light—marks they couldn't explain, marks he never talked about.
"You two are up early," Hunter said, his tone casual enough to be suspicious.
"What happened to the steel blocks?" Liam asked.
Hunter shrugged. "Testing a tool. It wasn't strong enough."
"Looks more like you sliced them," Ethan muttered.
Hunter paused.
For the briefest moment, his eyes flashed—an old instinct flickering awake. It was gone so fast that Liam wasn't sure if he imagined it.
Then Hunter gave a small smile. "I told you boys before—there are some things we'll talk about when the time is right."
Ethan nudged Liam. That was Hunter's polite way of saying: Drop it.
But before Liam could change the subject, a sudden vibration buzzed from Hunter's pocket. Not his phone—something else. Something heavier.
Hunter checked it discreetly. His jaw tightened, even though the rest of his face stayed still.
"Is it a job?" Liam asked.
"Something like that." Hunter looked between the boys. "Eat breakfast first. Then we'll talk."
Ethan gulped. "That sounds bad."
"Not bad," Hunter said. "Just important."
Liam's stomach turned. Every time Hunter used the word important, something world-changing followed.
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and toasted bread. Their mom, Marissa, hummed softly as she flipped pancakes, unaware of the tension that had entered the room.
"There you all are," she said, smiling. "Sit, sit. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ethan slid into a chair. "Not a ghost. Maybe a demon."
Liam elbowed him hard.
Hunter sat across from them, silent but alert. His coffee sat untouched.
"You okay?" Marissa asked him, leaning to kiss his cheek.
Hunter softened. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
Liam exchanged a glance with Ethan. If Hunter was thinking, it meant he was calculating. Preparing. Deciding whether the threat ahead required them—or required them to stay out of the way.
When breakfast was nearly done, Hunter finally spoke.
"A Rift opened last night," he said quietly.
Marissa's spatula froze midair.
Ethan's heart thundered. "Here? In town?"
"Not exactly," Hunter said. "On the outskirts of the woods. Near the old water tower."
Liam set his fork down slowly. "That's close."
"Too close," Hunter agreed. "Closer than anything that should've gotten past the perimeter."
Marissa exhaled. "Hunter… those things—"
He touched her hand reassuringly. "I'll handle it."
He stood from the table.
"We're coming," Liam said immediately.
Hunter's expression didn't change, but something in the air tightened.
"You're not ready," Hunter said.
"That's not fair," Ethan snapped. "We've been training. We're not helpless."
Hunter stepped forward, eyes sharp. "You don't understand what's on the other side of a Rift. You don't know what crawls through—what hunts through. When you look at a monster up close, every lesson I've taught you will fall apart if your heart falters even once."
Liam clenched his fists. "Then teach us not to falter."
Hunter opened his mouth, stopped… and exhaled.
"I can't take you into a Rift yet," he said firmly. "But this one is different. It's weak—unstable. That means it's also dangerous, but…"
He looked between them.
"I'll take you to the perimeter. You'll watch the closing process from a safe distance. That's all."
Ethan grinned. "I'll take it."
Liam nodded. "Better than nothing."
Marissa sighed but didn't argue. She knew better than anyone—once a Rift appeared, destiny had already chosen its path.
The forest was too quiet.
Birds avoided the deeper paths, leaves hung motionless, and even the wind seemed afraid to cross certain invisible lines. Hunter walked ahead, each step deliberate, each breath controlled.
Liam and Ethan followed close behind.
"Dad," Liam whispered. "What does an unstable Rift mean, exactly?"
Hunter didn't slow. "It means something is forcing it open from the inside."
Ethan swallowed. "Like a monster?"
"Monsters don't have that kind of willpower," Hunter said. "Not usually."
Liam's pulse spiked. "Then what is—"
Before he finished, Hunter raised a hand.
Stop.
The brothers froze.
Ahead, past the trees, the old water tower stood crooked against the pale sky. And beneath it—shimmering like a tear in reality—was the Rift.
It pulsed with violet light.
Strands of energy crawled outward like searching fingers.
Liam shuddered. "That's… smaller than I expected."
"Small doesn't mean safe," Hunter said.
He reached into his coat, pulling out something metallic—a thin, curved talisman etched with runes that glowed faintly in his palm.
"Stay here," he said.
He moved toward the Rift.
The air around him distorted, the ground humming beneath his feet. Liam could feel the pressure increasing, like gravity doubling in strength.
Ethan whispered, "Is this… is this him holding back?"
Liam didn't answer.
He was too focused on what happened next.
A thin claw pushed through.
Ethan stumbled backward. "Holy—"
More claws followed—long, bony, jointed at unnatural angles. A humanoid silhouette began forcing itself through the crack in space, its body covered in a dark, smoky haze that writhed like living tendrils.
Its eyes glowed pale white.
Hunter didn't flinch.
The creature shrieked the moment it fully emerged—its pitch splitting the air like shattering glass. Birds burst from the trees in a frantic swarm.
Ethan covered his ears. "What is that thing?!"
"A Shade Lurker," Hunter said calmly, stepping forward. "Low-intermediate class."
"That's low?!" Ethan shouted.
Liam grabbed his arm. "If he says it's low, it's low."
But even he wasn't convinced.
The Shade Lurker lunged.
Hunter vanished.
There was no flash. No sound. One moment he was standing on the ground, and the next—
CRACK
The creature was slammed into the earth with a force that split the soil beneath it. Hunter held it down with one hand, his expression unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here," he said to the monster, voice quiet but edged with lethal authority. "Not in my world."
The creature screeched, thrashing violently.
Hunter tightened his grip.
The thrashing stopped.
The Shade Lurker froze completely—its limbs stiffening as if locked in place by invisible chains. Hunter wasn't using rope. He wasn't using a device.
He was using will.
A force Liam felt prickling across his skin.
Ethan whispered, "He's… suppressing it. Without tools."
Liam stared. "That's… impossible."
Hunter didn't look at them. He raised his free hand, forming a shape in the air, tracing lines of glowing symbols—lines Liam had never seen before. They pulsed, then sank into the creature's body.
Light erupted.
When the glow faded, the Shade Lurker was gone.
Turned to dust.
Hunter approached the Rift next.
His steps were slower now—not because he was tired, but because what came next demanded precision.
No mistakes.
He positioned the talisman at the Rift's edge. It reacted immediately—vibrating, glowing, pulling the unstable energy inward.
"Dad," Liam called out. "Is that safe?!"
"No," Hunter answered.
"WHAT?!"
He pressed the talisman forward.
The Rift convulsed violently, expanding and shrinking at the same time. The ground shook. Trees trembled.
Hunter stood firm.
"Hunter!" Ethan yelled. "We can help—!"
"You can help," Hunter said sharply, "by staying alive."
The Rift's light intensified—
—and then imploded.
A shockwave blasted outward.
Liam and Ethan were thrown back.
Hunter didn't move.
The shockwave split around him like he was a pillar carved into the fabric of reality itself.
When the air finally settled, the Rift was gone. Only faint scorch marks remained on the ground.
Hunter exhaled slowly.
The talisman in his hand crumbled into ash.
Liam stood shakily. Ethan was sprawled in the dirt, staring wide-eyed at their stepfather.
Hunter turned toward them, expression calm again. Too calm.
"Are you two hurt?"
Ethan shook his head rapidly. "No, but—Dad—what—how did you—"
Hunter approached, brushing dust off Ethan's shoulder. "You weren't supposed to see that yet."
Liam swallowed. "See what?"
Hunter looked at the empty space where the Rift once had been.
"That level of power."
Ethan blinked rapidly. "Level? You mean… you're holding back? A lot?"
Hunter exhaled.
Not annoyed. Not angry.
Sad.
"I told you," he said quietly, "I used to be a hunter."
Liam stepped forward. "A hunter doesn't do what you just did."
"No," Hunter admitted. "A normal hunter doesn't."
Liam and Ethan exchanged a look of realization and fear.
Hunter saw it.
He knelt down to eye level with them.
"Listen to me," he said gently. "There will come a time when you learn everything. Who I was. What I became. Why I left that world behind."
His gaze hardened—an unspoken vow.
"But that time is not today."
Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Hunter raised a hand.
"For now, all you need to understand is this."
He placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"You two are my sons. And I will not let the darkness beyond these Rifts touch you."
Liam felt his throat tighten. Ethan blinked rapidly, looking away.
Hunter stood.
"We're going home," he said softly. "Marissa is probably terrified."
As they walked, Ethan whispered, "Bro… did we just see him use… world-class hunter abilities?"
Liam nodded slowly. "More than world-class."
Ethan's voice trembled. "Then… who is he?"
Liam didn't answer.
But one thing was clear.
Hunter wasn't just a strong hunter.
He wasn't just a retired legend.
He was something else.
Something bigger.
Something the world wasn't ready for.
And now…
Neither were they.