The first night was quiet.
The fire burned low, just embers and wind. The wasteland stretched for miles around them — black earth, cracked stone, and the ghostly sway of ash falling like snow. It clung to their cloaks, to the edges of their boots, turning both men gray beneath the moonlight.
They had crossed into the burnt valleys by dusk. Now the world was still — the kind of stillness that came only after ruin.
Hunnt sat by the fire, arms resting loosely over his knees, eyes on the slow dance of the coals. He hadn't spoken for hours. Alder, sitting across from him, was oiling the edge of his Great Sword, the blade catching the faint red of the flames.
The silence lasted until Hunnt finally broke it.
"What kind of monster are we facing?"
Alder didn't look up right away. His hands kept moving, cloth sliding over metal with calm precision. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost carried away by the wind.
"Glisarin Ignis. Locals call it the Ember Veil."
Hunnt's brow furrowed. "Flying type?"
"Yeah," Alder said, staring into the distance. "Fire-based. Territorial. The reports say it's nesting near what's left of the western ridge. Moves through heat mirages — vanishes into them. Some say it's part Elder, part something worse."
Hunnt nodded slowly, watching the glow of the coals shift with the wind.
"You didn't hesitate back there," he said after a moment.
Alder gave a dry laugh. "Someone had to move. Talking doesn't stop fire."
Hunnt poked the coals with a stick, sending sparks drifting upward like fading stars.
"Still… most hunters would've waited for a bounty."
"Then most hunters forgot what the job means."
The fire popped between them. The night wind sighed through the rocks.
Hunnt glanced at the man across the flames. "So why do it, really? You lose coin. The Guild won't recognize it. And it might end your life."
Alder leaned back, his gaze fixed on the horizon — a faint red haze still glowing in the far west. His voice softened.
"Because no one else will."
He paused, exhaling through his nose before continuing. "From my first season as a Rank 1 apprentice to my years as a Rank 6, I've seen too many villages fall while the Guild sat behind their walls counting paperwork. Every hunter learns the same truth eventually."
He looked at Hunnt, eyes hard.
"No Quest. No Reward. No Recognition. No Volunteers."
Hunnt said nothing.
"The Four N's," Alder continued quietly. "It's the Guild's real creed. They don't print it on paper, but every hunter knows it. If no one pays, no one hunts. If no one writes it down, no one cares. I've seen it happen too many times — villages turned to ash because the bounty board stayed empty."
Hunnt studied him quietly. There was no pity in his gaze — only understanding.
"So you learned to move before permission," Hunnt said.
Alder smirked faintly. "Call it what you want. I just don't want anyone else growing up watching their home burn while hunters count their zenny."
Hunnt's eyes drifted back to the fire. The flames had burned low, orange bleeding into deep crimson. His voice came quiet.
"That's reason enough."
They sat in silence after that, the night pressing close around them. Only the wind spoke — carrying the smell of ash and char from miles ahead.
---
By dawn, the world had turned gray again. The air shimmered faintly with heat even before the sun climbed high. For hours they moved without words, passing through valleys where the ground was cracked open like wounds. Charred bones lay half-buried in black sand — small ones, human.
Alder said nothing. Hunnt didn't ask.
When the second day began to fade, the horizon darkened with smoke.
"There," Alder said, pointing. "That's the village."
Hunnt slowed his pace as the first ruined rooftops came into view. The smell hit them before the sight — a thick, bitter reek of soot and rot.
What had once been a village was now a grave of embers. Houses stood half-collapsed, their timbers black and skeletal. The wind blew through hollow windows, carrying the distant sound of weeping.
Hunnt stopped beside a burned-out cart. "Survivors," he said quietly.
Alder nodded. "Looks like it."
They descended the ridge, boots crunching over brittle stone and ash. As they drew closer, shapes began to move among the ruins — people, covered in soot, leading others out of the wreckage. Children clung to what few belongings they had. The air stank of burned wood and flesh.
Alder stepped forward first, voice raised. "Who's in charge here?"
A man turned, his arm wrapped around a crying child. His eyes were sunken, his voice hoarse. "The chief is dead. His wife and the others are helping whoever's left. We're leaving — there's nothing left to save."
Another villager stumbled out from a collapsed doorway, dragging a bundle of cloth. "The monster made this place her nest," he said. "We can't stay. She'll come back."
Alder clenched his jaw. "Where is she now?"
The villager pointed toward the far edge of the settlement, where smoke rose thicker, darker. "Sleeping. Near the old well."
Hunnt's gaze followed the direction, expression unreadable.
Then a voice broke through the murmurs.
An older man, soot staining his beard, stepped forward. "You're too late, hunters. The village is gone. Most of the people are already—" He stopped himself, looking away. "We're going to abandon it. Maybe the next village will take us in."
Hunnt said nothing. He watched Alder instead — measuring the man's resolve.
Alder smiled faintly, though his eyes were hard. "You don't have to abandon anything," he said. "We'll slay the beast."
The acting chief blinked. "Only you two?"
Alder nodded.
The older man shook his head in disbelief. "She's sleeping now. If you can kill her, we'll rebuild. If not… we'll keep walking. But before you do anything, help us get the others clear. She wakes at the slightest noise."
As if summoned by those words, a sharp cry broke the air — a child's startled gasp followed by the clatter of falling debris.
The ground trembled. A pulse of heat rolled through the air.
From the far side of the village, the smoke thickened — twisting into a spiraling column as something vast shifted within it. A sound like cracking fire tore through the stillness, followed by a roar that turned the sky to flame.
The Glisarin Ignis was awake.
---
Alder cursed, drawing his Great Sword in a single fluid motion. "Damn it—move!"
Hunnt's Observation Haki flared, his senses stretching through the chaos. He felt it before he saw it — the flare of heat, the breath of power, the child frozen in terror beneath a collapsing beam.
He ran.
The world blurred. Ash flew from the ground beneath his feet. In one smooth motion, he scooped the child up and rolled behind the remains of a stone wall. "Run!" he ordered. "Back to the others. Don't look back!"
The boy hesitated, trembling. Hunnt turned sharply, his tone hard. "Go!"
The child bolted, sobbing as he disappeared toward the crowd.
Hunnt rose, turning toward Alder — who was already standing his ground, blade planted in the dirt, facing the oncoming monster. The sky burned red behind him.
Hunnt called out, "Are you really willing to risk your life for this village?"
Alder didn't take his eyes off the flames. "Yes. Without anyone asking."
Hunnt smiled faintly and cracked his knuckles. "Then let's make it count."
The air shimmered with rising heat. The beast's shadow swept over them, massive wings unfolding through the smoke.
Hunnt's stance shifted, feet grounding, body loose — no blade, no shield, only will.
Alder lifted his sword.
Together, they faced the storm.
The hunt had begun.