Nathan closed his notebook and let out a slow breath.
The pen clicked softly as he capped it and slid it back into the drawer. For a few seconds, he stayed seated, staring at his desk.
He had learned a lot.
It was not some revolutionary information that he had learned but by watching Thruster's movements again and again, breaking them down, he had understood how important movement control was.
He rolled his shoulders and stood.
His body felt stiff.
Nathan stretched, arms reaching overhead, back arching as he worked the tension out of his shoulders and neck. He twisted at the waist, joints popping quietly, then shook his arms loose.
Even though he had learned the basics of weapon handling during his academy days, specializing in a move was a very different thing.
Very different.
Knowing how to hold a spear wasn't the same as knowing how to use it efficiently. The videos made that clear. Thruster didn't rely on flair or variations, he relied on refinement.
One motion, perfected by repetitions.
Nathan walked over to his bed and picked up the spear.
The wooden shaft was smooth beneath his fingers, familiar already in a way that surprised him. He adjusted his grip slightly, spacing his hands the way he'd seen in the video.
His room was small, very small.
But there was just enough space for him to practice thrusting in one direction if he was careful.
Nathan positioned himself near the center of the room, facing the wall opposite his desk. He checked the distance twice, then once more for good measure.
He exhaled.
'I hope I don't break anything'
He briefly though about the specialized training gyms hunters used. These were large spaces with reinforced walls to absorb impact that comes from these superhumans practicing their moves. These gyms also had simulated environments and safety systems.
But the problem was that they costed money.
Money that he didn't want his brother to worry about right now.
Nathan tightened his grip.
He set his stance.
Left foot forward. Right foot back. Knees slightly bent. Weight balanced.
He thrust.
The spear moved forward cleanly, stopping short of the wall.
Nathan nodded.
Again.
The motion felt awkward at first, his arms moving faster than his body, but soon he adjusted.
Thrust. Recover. Reset.
He remembered Thruster's posture. How he didn't lean too far forward. How his shoulders stayed relaxed.
Nathan corrected himself and tried again.
He was getting better.
His breathing was becoming steady.
Thrust. Recover. Thrust.
He had gotten the pattern down.
The spear moved more smoothly now, the motion flowing rather than stopping abruptly. Nathan felt a faint warmth build in his arms and shoulders.
He smiled faintly.
'I am getting better.'
One more.
He adjusted his stance slightly, aligning his hips the way he'd seen in the video. This time, he added a step forward with the thrust.
Everything lined up.
Perfect form.
Perfect timing.
He thrust.
The spearhead slammed into the wall.
The impact was violent.
The recoil traveled straight through the shaft and into Nathan's arms, rattling his bones. His grip slipped, breaking his balance, and making him stumble backward falling and landing hard on the floor.
"Oww!!"
Nathan groaned, blinking rapidly.
As he looked up he saw Dust drifting down from the wall.
He lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, heart pounding.
Then he slowly turned his head.
A chunk of concrete had broken away from the wall where the spear had struck. Cracks radiated outward, small but very real.
Nathan stared.
"…Okay," he said weakly. "Never doing this in my room again."
He scrambled to his feet, panic setting in. He grabbed a poster from his drawer, an old one he hadn't bothered to hang and hurriedly taped it over the damaged spot.
It didn't fix anything but it hid it barely.
Nathan stepped back and assessed the result.
Good enough for now.
He set the spear carefully against the wall and wiped his hands on his pants, heart still racing.
Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the apartment.
"I'm home!!"
Nathan froze.
Then he smiled.
He opened his door and stepped into the hallway just as Ethan walked in, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened.
Ethan looked at him.
Then his gaze flicked past Nathan, catching sight of the spear leaning against the wall.
Ethan didn't comment or ask questions.
He just smiled and nodded once.
"Fried chicken?" he asked.
Nathan's response was immediate.
With a wide grin, he nodded frantically, "Yes."
Ethan snorted. "Thought so."
Lena poked her head out of her room, eyes darting between them.
"…Two grown men," she said. "Wow."
Ethan turned toward her. "I guess you don't want fried chicken then."
"What? No!" Lena yelped, rushing out immediately. "That's not what I meant!"
The siblings laughed.
The tension drained out of Nathan all at once.
The cracked wall could wait.
Tonight was fried chicken.
***
The three of them sat around the table, cardboard boxes spread out between them.
The smell of fried chicken filled the apartment.
Not the overly greasy smell that clung to your clothes for hours, but the good kind crispy, hot, and unmistakably tasty. The kind that made the day feel finished in the best way possible.
Nathan had already rolled up his sleeves without thinking, fingers shiny with oil as he reached for another piece.
Lena watched him with mild disgust.
"You're eating like someone who hasn't had food in years," she said.
Nathan didn't look up. "It's been a long day."
"That's not an excuse," she replied. "You're still chewing like a pig."
Ethan snorted into his drink.
Nathan glanced up. "I'll take that as professional feedback."
They ate for a moment in silence, the comfortable kind.
Ethan was the one who broke it.
"So," he said, reaching for another piece, "what weapon did you end up choosing?"
Although he had seen the spear, he wanted Nathan to tell him himself.
Nathan swallowed and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "A spear."
Ethan nodded immediately. No hesitation or second guessing.
"Good choice," he said.
Nathan blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah," Ethan replied. "Simple, effective and keeps things at a distance."
Lena tilted her head. "You don't look like a spear person."
Nathan frowned. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. You look like someone who'd trip over it."
Ethan shot her a look. "Ignore her."
Nathan smiled faintly.
Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair. "So. When are you planning to visit the rift?"
Nathan hesitated for half a second.
"Tomorrow," he said.
Lena froze mid-bite. "Tomorrow?"
"Just to get some experience," Nathan added quickly. "I'm not planning on pushing anything."
Ethan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "That's fine."
He took a sip of his drink. "When you get there, ask the officers at the entrance for the guidelines."
Nathan nodded. "I will."
"They'll explain what you're allowed to do, where you're allowed to go, and what not to touch," Ethan continued. "Listen to them."
"I will," Nathan repeated.
Ethan paused, then added, "If I remember correctly, goblin bodies don't make much money."
Nathan's eyes lit up on the idea of making money, "They still make some, right?"
Ethan chuckled. "Barely."
Nathan leaned forward. "How much are we talking?"
Ethan considered it for a moment. "Two dollars per goblin body if I am not mistaken."
Nathan stared.
"…Two?"
"Two," Ethan confirmed.
Lena burst out laughing.
"That's it?" Nathan asked.
"That's it," Ethan said. "Goblins are everywhere. High population and easy access. Not much you can do with their remains."
Nathan leaned back in his chair, deflating slightly.
"Oh," he muttered.
Lena smirked. "Welcome to reality."
Nathan sighed, then frowned. "Do I have to carry the bodies back myself?"
Ethan shook his head. "No."
Nathan looked up again.
"The government employs cleaners," Ethan said. "They handle collection, disposal and processing."
Nathan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Good," he said. "Because I was trying to figure out how I'd carry a goblin on a bus."
Lena grimaced. "Please don't."
Ethan smiled. "You'll still need to talk to the officer at the rift gate before doing anything," he added. "They'll log your kills and handle the rest."
Nathan nodded slowly.
Two dollars per goblin.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
He looked down at his hands.
'I can actually make money,' he thought.
Not a lot, not yet.
But enough to matter.
The thought settled in his chest, small but steady.
They finished eating not long after, conversation drifting to lighter topics. Lena complained about her institute assignments. Ethan grumbled about work without going into details.
Nathan listened, content.
When they cleaned up and drifted back to their rooms, Nathan paused at his doorway.
Tomorrow.
He glanced at the spear resting against the wall.
Tomorrow, he would step into a rift.
Not as a viewer.
Not as someone watching from behind a screen.
But as a hunter.