After the brutal trials of the Hunter Selection Program, the surviving candidates were scattered across the land, sent to specialized training grounds meant to temper raw talent into lethal discipline. For many, this phase would prove harder than any battlefield—because here, weakness had nowhere to hide.
Riku, Nao, and Hana were assigned to the Mountain Shrine, a place whispered about with equal parts reverence and dread. Perched high among jagged peaks and endless mist, it was a crucible for endurance and willpower. They would train under Elite Hunter Juzo, the infamous Hookman whose weapons had dragged countless demons screaming into oblivion. Guarding the shrine itself was Batsu, the Shrine Guardian—an immovable force known for his mastery of shield creation and absolute defense.
Akari led the trio along a winding stone path that cut through the mountainside. Below them, clouds drifted like a white sea. Ahead, the clang of steel echoed rhythmically through the thin air.
When they reached the outer training grounds, the sight stopped them cold.
Rows of Lampmen trainees moved in flawless formation, striking wooden posts and sparring partners with brutal precision. Their movements were sharp, synchronized, and relentless. Trainers barked commands while correcting stances with ruthless efficiency. Sweat and discipline soaked into the earth.
"Whoa," Nao muttered, eyes wide as she watched a group disarm opponents in seconds. "These guys move like machines."
"Machines don't bleed," Hana replied softly, her gaze lingering on a Lampman whose knuckles were cracked and raw, yet who never slowed his strikes.
Before Akari could respond, a shadow fell over the courtyard.
A heavy impact shook the ground as a figure dropped from above, stone cracking beneath his boots. Dust rose in a thick cloud. When it settled, Haruki, an elite Lampman, stood tall—muscles coiled, eyes burning with aggression.
"So you're the new Demon Hunters?" he growled, cracking his neck. "Let's see if you're worth the title."
Riku stepped forward instinctively, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "We just got here," he said calmly. "You sure you wanna start a fight this early?"
Haruki snarled. "Words are cheap!"
He lunged—
—but never finished the strike.
A blur appeared behind him. Aiko, another elite Lampman, struck the base of his neck with surgical precision. Haruki collapsed instantly, unconscious before he hit the ground.
"Haruki!" she snapped. "You're embarrassing yourself again."
Moments later, Ichiro, the master trainer, hurried forward and bowed deeply to Akari. "Forgive his behavior," he said respectfully.
"Haruki possesses no supernatural abilities like a Demon Hunter. His strength is purely physical—exceptional, but often overlooked. That bitterness fuels his anger."
Nao crossed her arms. "Then maybe he should learn how to control it."
Ichiro nodded, eyes thoughtful. "That is why he remains here."
Before the tension could fade, two Lampmen sprinted toward them, breathless. "Master Ichiro!" one shouted. "Three trainees fled to the nearby village—they were drinking wine!"
Ichiro's expression hardened instantly. "They will run the full training circle until dawn," he declared. "Discipline is not optional."
"Yes, sir!" they replied, rushing away.
Akari then gestured for the trio to follow her deeper into the shrine. Stone courtyards gave way to ancient corridors lined with carved guardian statues. Lanterns ignited one by one as dusk fell, casting long shadows across the walls.
"Stay close," Akari warned. "The mountain doesn't forgive those who wander."
At the inner sanctum gates, two Elite Lampmen stood guard, their lamps glowing faintly. After a quiet exchange, the gates opened with a deep groan.
Inside stood Juzo.
His hooks rested at his sides, gleaming under torchlight, their curved edges humming faintly with suppressed violence. Beside him was Batsu, towering and silent, holding a massive shield etched with glowing runes.
"So," Juzo said, his deep voice cutting through the chamber, "these are the fresh recruits."
"Yes, sir," Akari replied with a bow. "They've passed all three trials."
Batsu studied them carefully, then nodded. "Good. Eat. Rest. Training begins at first light. Pray your bodies survive the morning."
Riku grinned. "Sounds fun."
Hana sighed. "That's one way to put it."
That night, Nao and Hana lay in their shared room, the warmth of the fire dulling the ache in their muscles.
"Do you think we can keep up with them?" Hana asked quietly.
Nao stared at the ceiling, fists clenched. "We didn't come this far to fail."
Elsewhere, Riku wandered the stone courtyard, unable to sleep. Moonlight reflected off worn tiles where Haruki trained alone, spear slicing through the air again and again.
Riku approached. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Haruki didn't stop. "Didn't come here to talk."
"Good," Riku said, drawing his dual swords. "Neither did I."
Their weapons clashed violently, sparks flying.
"You've got spirit," Haruki grunted, forcing Riku back.
"Same to you," Riku replied, blocking a heavy strike. "Just don't hold back because I'm new."
Before the duel could escalate, a crushing presence filled the air.
"Enough!"
Saburo, one of the elite Lampmen, appeared between them, eyes sharp as blades. Both froze.
"Back to your rooms," Saburo commanded. "If you want to fight, do it under my watch."
Riku sheathed his swords. "Understood."
Haruki smirked. "Next time, I'll win."
"Try it," Riku replied, walking away.
Far away, in another mountain range, Aoi, Yuta, and Kaito stood before Ryuu, their new master.
Ryuu folded his arms, gaze piercing. "Elemental balance. That is your lesson here. Lose focus—and this mountain will swallow you whole."
Aoi bowed. "Understood, Master."
Yuta cracked his knuckles. "Bring it on."
Lightning crackled faintly along Kaito's katana as he drew it. "Let's start already."
Ryuu smirked. "Good. Fire like that can change the world. Just remember—fire burns the careless first."
As the wind howled through the peaks, the two groups began their brutal training—each step forging them closer to the warriors they would one day need to become.
Their destinies were no longer theoretical.
They were being carved into reality.