The dawn over Draconis burned red.
The volcanic city never slept — its veins of molten rock glowed through every street, its hammers rang like drums from sunrise to dusk.
Hunnt walked the upper terraces, his cloak pulled close as waves of heat rolled up from the forges below. The scent of steel and sulfur filled the air. Ahead, the Guild Hall rose like a fortress against the smoke-filled sky — tall, black, and unyielding, a monument to hunters who chased both monsters and glory.
Inside, the hall was chaos.
The noise of laughter, arguing, and weapons clashing drowned out thought. Banners bearing Guild insignias swayed in the furnace wind from the open vents above. Every table brimmed with hunters boasting about trophies, contracts, and pay.
Hunnt moved quietly toward the quest board. The parchment sheets pinned there fluttered in the heat — escort missions, supply hunts, beast exterminations. All stamped with the crimson Guild seal.
Each contract meant one thing: profit and rank.
He was scanning the postings when a voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"Someone has to help them! You all know what's happening out west!"
The room fell silent.
At the entrance stood a man in worn armor, his cloak torn, his face streaked with soot. A massive Great Sword rested across his back, the blade blackened along its edge from overuse. His badge glinted faintly on his shoulder — Hunter Rank 6.
He was no novice.
"It's still out there," the man shouted. "That flying monster beyond the black hills — it's burned through three settlements already! The villages can't even bury their dead!"
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then a voice from the back called out, mocking.
"Alder, we've heard that story ten times this week."
Another added, "The Guild knows. There's no official request from those villages. No quest, no reward — so it's not our problem."
Alder's jaw tightened. "Not our problem?" he repeated. "Five teams have already gone. None came back. The Guild calls it unsanctioned because the villages can't pay. And you're all fine with that?"
Someone laughed from a nearby table. "We're hunters, not heroes. You want charity, join the priests."
Alder's voice sharpened. "So you'll sit here and drink while people die because they didn't file the right paperwork?"
The hall went quiet again — that kind of silence born not of guilt, but of shame no one wanted to name.
Hunnt had been watching from the shadows near the board, his expression unreadable. He understood that silence. He'd heard it before — in halls that smelled of smoke and excuses.
He stepped forward.
"Where?"
Alder turned, surprised by the calm voice. "What?"
"Where's the last sighting?" Hunnt asked.
Alder studied him for a moment. There was no arrogance in the young hunter's eyes — only steadiness. "West of the black hills," he said. "The Guild marked it Apex-class. No bounty posted — the villages are too poor to pay. The Guild refuses to classify it officially."
Hunnt nodded once. "Then we go without them."
The laughter returned, thin and uneasy.
"You serious?" one man barked. "You'll get yourselves killed for nothing."
Hunnt's gaze flicked toward him. "If 'nothing' means lives, then yeah."
Alder smiled faintly — tired, but grateful. "Guess I'm not the only fool left, then."
The same veteran hunter from before raised his mug again. "Even if you win, the Guild won't credit you. Volunteers don't earn rank or coin."
Hunnt shrugged. "Then I'll take peace over pay."
He turned and started toward the door. Alder followed without another word.
---
Outside, the heat felt cooler than the hall's hypocrisy.
The two walked through the molten-lit streets, the sound of the forges echoing behind them. Hunters passing by stared — a Rank 6 veteran and an unknown traveler heading out together without sanction.
Alder finally broke the silence. "You didn't have to step in, you know."
Hunnt adjusted his cloak. "Didn't I?"
Alder chuckled softly, resting a hand on the hilt of his Great Sword. The weapon's edge gleamed faintly even under soot. "You've got guts, kid. Most hunters won't leave the city unless the Guild signs off and waves coin in their face."
Hunnt's eyes flicked toward the horizon, where smoke curled faintly over the distant hills. "I'm not most hunters."
Alder gave him a sideways glance. "You're what, Rank 1? Two?"
Hunnt smirked faintly. "None. I'm just passing through."
Alder raised an eyebrow. "Then you're either fearless or stupid."
"Little of both," Hunnt said, his tone dry.
They shared a laugh — the first real sound between them since the Guild Hall.
---
As they reached the southern gate, the guards stiffened. One stepped forward. "You two heading west? Don't tell me you're going after that thing."
Alder's voice hardened. "Someone has to."
"The Guild's not backing you," the guard warned. "You'll be on your own."
Hunnt simply nodded. "Good. Less paperwork."
The gate creaked open, a blast of hot wind sweeping through. Beyond the walls, the black hills rolled under an orange sky, the earth scarred and burned. Faint smoke twisted up from the far horizon — like the world itself was exhaling its last breath.
Alder glanced back once at the city. The forges still burned bright, indifferent to everything beyond their reach. "No bounty. No record. No backup," he said quietly.
Hunnt adjusted his gauntlets. "Just a hunt that matters."
They stepped beyond the gates.
The wind carried ash, the smell of fire and distance. Behind them, the lights of Draconis dimmed; ahead, the wilderness stretched into shadow.
They walked in silence for a while — two silhouettes moving through the dying light. The crunch of blackened gravel beneath their boots was the only sound between them until Alder finally broke it with a sigh.
"You know," he said, "I've been meaning to ask." He gestured toward Hunnt's cloak, scanning him up and down. "Where in the hell are your weapons? I didn't see any back at the hall."
Hunnt lifted his arms, rolling his shoulders as the light caught his scarred gauntlets. "Here," he said simply. "Always have been."
Alder stopped walking for a moment, blinking. "You mean… your fists? That's it?"
Hunnt nodded. "That's it."
Alder dragged a hand down his face. "Oh, great. I'm marching into a death zone with a bare-handed maniac."
Hunnt smirked faintly. "You've got the sword. I've got the rest."
Alder let out a long, dry laugh. "We're really going to die, aren't we?"
Hunnt shrugged. "Maybe. But not quietly."
The older hunter laughed again, shaking his head. "You're insane. I like that."
The two of them kept walking, their footsteps fading into the scorched horizon. The air was hot and still, carrying only the faint scent of ash from somewhere far ahead.
Alder adjusted the strap of his Great Sword and glanced toward the distant haze. "The village is far from here," he said. "We'd better hurry. From the city to the village, it's at least two days' journey if we move fast."
Hunnt nodded, tightening his cloak. "Then we don't waste time."
Alder sighed, half amused, half resigned. "You're serious."
Hunnt gave a faint grin. "Always."
They picked up their pace, the molten glow of Draconis shrinking behind them until it was nothing more than a spark against the black hills. Ahead, the horizon shimmered with heat and smoke, a thin red haze marking the path to their next trial.
The two hunters pressed onward through the dying light.