Chapter 1 : Hunters

"Clarice, look! I found berries!"

She turned around, squinting at the woven basket in my hand.

"Those are... not edible, Ramy." A gentle smile graced her lips.

"But they look tasty! See? The color is just like a strawberry!"

"The color is lovely," she agreed, taking my hand. "Just like your eyes."

I grinned up at her. "I like your blue eyes too, Clarice! Someday, I’m going to marry a beautiful woman like you!"

She giggled, ruffling my hair. "You must grow stronger first, Ramy."

"I will! I’ll train every single day!"

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"Hey! Wake up!" A shrill, grating voice blasted into my ear.

I pried my eyes open, squinting up at the middle-aged man looming over me.

"Hey! Ramond!" Hans let out a heavy sigh. "Why are you napping? Your team is waiting for you!"

I pushed myself up from the gnarled tree root. "I waited for them for hours, Hans. Don't blame me for catching a quick nap." I stretched, my leather armor creaking as it pulled taut against my chest.

"You're impossible! The guildmaster will have your head if you keep slacking off. Ugh. Youth."

I patted his shoulder as I walked past. "Calm down, old man. I'm moving."

"Remember! Keep an eye on them! They’re completely green!" his voice pierced the morning air.

"You’re too loud. Go take a nap yourself."

This was my fortieth deployment as a Newcomer Guide. Every single month, ever since I finished my hunter training four years ago, I was saddled with this tedious chore. Whenever I petitioned for a real assignment, the higher-ups brushed me off. Their excuse? I wasn't "ready."

What a load of shit. They were entirely blind to my actual skill level.

I spotted the greenhorns huddled at the rendezvous point: two scrawny boys, a midget, and a bumpkin. I suppressed a groan. As I approached, four pairs of eyes locked onto me as if I were a ghost.

"What’s wrong with you kids?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"S-Sir Ramond! I-It’s a massive honor to meet you," stammered a blonde kid. He was hugging a long spear.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm Hoiler, sir! Son of Brandon the Hawk!" barked the one drowning in polished steel.

I glanced at his waist and his back. "Oh, Brandon’s kid. Why are you carrying three blades?"

He puffed out his chest. "This blade right here is purely symbolic, sir! A family heirloom."

I shifted my gaze to a red-haired girl.

"My name is Mathilda," she murmured, giving a shy nod while gripping her bow with white knuckles.

"And I’m Patrice!" yelled the short girl, slamming the haft of her massive battleaxe into the dirt.

I closed my eyes. Really? These kids are beyond help.

I exhaled a long breath and faced them.

"Listen up. We’re heading down into the forest to hunt. But before we step foot in the tree line, I need to know what you can do." I stopped pacing and drew my dagger. "Starting with you, Hoster."

"It’s Hoiler, sir!"

"Right. Show me what you’ve got. Attack me."

He lunged forward instantly, reaching for the twin blades strapped to his back. I simply sidestepped to the right, sweeping my leg to strike the 'heirloom' blade dangling at his left hip. The impact shattered his balance, sending him tumbling face-first into the dirt.

"Alright, next—"

"I’m not done yet!" Hoiler roared.

I glanced back. Ah, aura user.

He had planted his feet firmly, crossing his dual blades in front of his chest. A faint blue light began to bleed from the steel.

Before he could unleash the technique, I kicked a loose pebble. It snapped through the air and struck him dead center on the forehead.

Thud. The sudden shock disrupted his focus. The unreleased aura backfired, and he collapsed onto his back with a groan.

Sigh. Reckless.

"Now your turn, blondie... what was your name?"

"K-Kenny, sir!"

"Right. Show me your moves. Come at me."

He dragged his right foot back, gripping the base of his spear with his right hand and guiding the shaft with his left. Real killing intent flared in his eyes.

Interesting. Suddenly, a vortex of energy spiraled up his arms.

Oho, a magic spear user. Rare kind too.

With wide eyes and a manic grin, Kenny thrust the spear forward with everything he had.

Clang!

I casually batted the spearhead into the dirt with the flat of my dagger. Kenny stared at his embedded weapon in utter disbelief.

Too weak.

"Your turn, archer."

Mathilda instantly drew her bow, the trembling arrowhead aimed vaguely in my direction.

Too hesitant. She’s going to miss.

She released the bowstring. The arrow whistled harmlessly past my shoulder.

"Next, the midget."

"WHAT?!" Her eyes went bloodshot. "DON'T CALL ME A MIDGET!"

Hot-headed. A fatal flaw.

She charged, swinging her oversized battleaxe in a brutal, downward arc. I took a single step back. The heavy blade buried itself deep into the compacted earth, sending a tremor vibrating through the soles of my boots.

Before she could wrench the weapon free, I stepped onto the flat of the axe head. Glaring up at me, she used the stuck handle as a pivot, swinging her body weight into a desperate flying kick.

I leaned my head back just an inch. Her small boots swept past my nose like a passing breeze, and gravity handled the rest. She crashed hard into the dirt.

I took a deep breath. "Alright, kids, gather up!" I clapped my hands.

Grabbing their bruised egos and dropped weapons, they dragged themselves out of the dirt and assembled into a ragged line.

"Listen closely. All of you are shit," I said, crossing my arms. "You wouldn't survive ten minutes in the hunting grounds."

"What?!" Hoiler interrupted. "Just because we failed a single sparring attempt? That’s ridiculous!"

"Yeah! Besides, we have unique skills! You just got lucky winning against us one-on-one. We work well as a team!" Patrice fumed, glaring up at me.

"Exactly. My aura blade will cut through those monsters like butter," Hoiler added.

Sigh. This again. It's always the same.

"We have a higher probability of surviving out there than you do, Mister Ramond!" Patrice snapped.

A familiar, dull ache tightened in my chest. I stared down at the midget, my jaw locking tight.

"What? Are you surprised?" She scoffed, crossing her stout arms. "Did you honestly think the guild kept it a secret? Everyone knows you don't possess a single drop of magic or special abilities.”

"I-if we don't hunt today, we'll get a failing grade, sir," Kenny stammered.

I closed my eyes for a long moment, letting the insult wash over me. It was the same old story. Just because I didn't possess flashy magical talents or special abilities, these greenhorns thought they could treat me like a stepping stone.

"Fine. Follow me."

I turned on my heel and marched toward the dense tree line of the hunting grounds.

I should have brought more ration. It's going to be a very long day.