After everything that had just happened, Nagumo Hiroto still couldn't fully process it. As he stepped out of the guild hall with Gilbert and Alice, the noise of the city returned, yet it felt distant, as if he were hearing it through a haze. The memory of the dark void, the demon knight, and the dagger piercing his chest lingered faintly in his mind, refusing to fade. Even though his body was unharmed, the sensation remained, leaving him unsettled.
Gilbert stretched casually as they walked. He spoke as if nothing unusual had happened, saying that now that Hiroto had chosen his class, the next step was obvious—he needed a weapon. Alice gently agreed, explaining that a hunter without a weapon would not last long outside the kingdom. Hiroto nodded, trying to focus on the present. The idea of carrying a weapon still felt strange to him, but he knew it was necessary if he wanted to survive.
As they moved through the streets, something began to feel off. At first, it was subtle. Hiroto blinked a few times, his vision feeling slightly strained, as if something was trying to come into focus but remained just out of reach. Then, faint shapes began to appear at the edge of his sight. They were thin, almost transparent, like symbols floating in the air. Every time he tried to look directly at them, they shifted or vanished.
He slowed his steps, frowning slightly. Alice noticed immediately and asked if something was wrong. Hiroto hesitated before admitting that his vision felt strange, like he was seeing something he couldn't understand. Gilbert shrugged it off at first, suggesting it might be a side effect of obtaining his class, since strange things sometimes happened during the early stages.
Hiroto wasn't fully convinced, but he continued walking. The symbols appeared again, this time lasting longer. They hovered faintly in front of him, composed of unfamiliar characters that didn't resemble any language he knew. He stared at them, trying to make sense of their shape and meaning, but nothing came to him.
Then, suddenly, they shifted.
The strange letters rearranged themselves, changing form as if adapting to his understanding. Within moments, the symbols transformed into words he could read. Hiroto's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't learned anything, yet somehow, he understood them.
Before he could react, the writing faded.
Alice asked what he had seen, and Hiroto tried to explain, saying that there were words floating in the air, but he couldn't understand them at first. Now, somehow, he could. Both Alice and Gilbert looked confused, and when Hiroto asked if they could see it too, they both shook their heads.
That was when something new appeared.
A faint, translucent panel materialized in front of Hiroto, hovering in midair. It was clearer than the symbols before, filled with readable text. He froze, staring at it in disbelief. It felt real, yet it wasn't part of the world around him.
He quietly asked what it was, but neither Gilbert nor Alice responded with understanding. They couldn't see it. Whatever this was, it existed only for him.
The panel flickered briefly, then vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared.
Hiroto stood there for a moment, trying to steady himself. Gilbert let out a quiet sigh, admitting that the situation was unusual, while Alice suggested it might be connected to his class. That seemed to be the only explanation.
They continued walking, eventually arriving at a large building where the sound of metal striking metal echoed from within. Heat radiated from the entrance, and the smell of iron filled the air. Gilbert explained that it was the blacksmith, the best place to find a weapon.
Inside, Hiroto was immediately overwhelmed. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls—swords, spears, axes, bows—each one carefully crafted. Sparks flew from the back where the blacksmith worked, shaping metal with practiced precision.
Hiroto slowly walked through the shop, observing each weapon. He tried to imagine himself using them, but nothing felt right. Swords seemed too heavy, spears too unfamiliar, and bows too distant from his current ability.
Then something caught his attention.
A faint pull.
His gaze shifted toward a corner of the shop where several items were carelessly placed. Among them was a pair of daggers.
They were different from the others. Their blades were dark, almost absorbing the light around them, and a faint aura seemed to cling to them like a shadow. They didn't look polished or refined. In fact, they looked discarded.
But Hiroto couldn't look away.
He stepped closer, drawn to them by something he couldn't explain. As he reached out, the strange sensation in his vision returned. Faint symbols appeared again, shifting and transforming until they became readable. Though he couldn't fully understand their meaning, he felt a strange connection forming.
At that moment, the blacksmith approached, noticing where Hiroto's attention had gone. He casually remarked that the daggers were nothing more than scrap, a failed attempt that didn't turn out right. No one had any interest in them.
Hiroto looked back at the blades.
They didn't feel like scrap.
They felt right.
The blacksmith shrugged and said that if Hiroto wanted them, he could take them for free. Gilbert seemed surprised, but didn't object. To him, a free weapon was still a weapon.
Hiroto hesitated for a brief moment.
Then he picked them up.
The instant his hands wrapped around the daggers, a faint chill ran through his body. The dark aura flickered slightly, as if reacting to his touch. They felt light, perfectly balanced, and strangely natural in his grip.
"I'll take them," he said quietly.
Alice watched him with a hint of concern, but said nothing. Gilbert simply smirked, accepting the decision.
Hiroto looked down at the daggers, tightening his grip slightly. The memory of the dark knight surfaced again—the dagger, the strike, the pain.
This time, however, he didn't feel fear.
He felt resolve.
He had a class.
He had a weapon.
And now, he had a path forward.
Even if that path was filled with things he didn't understand, he would walk it.
As they left the blacksmith, Hiroto glanced at the daggers once more. The faint dark aura shimmered quietly, almost as if it was alive.