Nathan left the Hunter Association building with his spear resting against his shoulder.
The sun was higher now, people moved along the sidewalks, some glancing briefly at the weapon in his hand, most not paying attention at all.
A few decades ago, it would have drawn stares.
Now, it barely registered.
Hunters moved through cities all the time. Equipment in hand. Armor slung over shoulders. Weapons wrapped or bare, depending on preference and regulation.
Nathan adjusted his grip slightly and headed toward the transit stop.
The bus arrived a few minutes later.
He stepped on, tapped his card, and found a seat near the back. The spear rested upright between his feet, one hand loosely holding it to keep it from tipping.
The city rolled past the windows as the bus moved.
Nathan leaned back slightly, watching familiar streets blur together. He felt tired now, the long stretch of tension from the morning finally easing.
Not exhaustion, just the kind of mental fatigue that came after something important finished.
He looked down at the spear again.
This was his now.
When he got off at his stop, the walk home felt shorter than usual. His building came into view quickly, concrete and glass catching the afternoon light.
Inside, the hallway smelled faintly of cleaning solution and warm air.
Nathan unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment.
"Back already?" Lena called from her room.
"Yeah," Nathan replied. "I'm home."
"Okay," she said. "I'm studying."
Nathan closed the door behind him and went straight to his room.
The moment he stepped inside, he set the spear carefully against the wall, making sure it wouldn't fall. He dropped his bag onto the chair and stretched once, rolling his shoulders.
His clothes felt stiff now.
He needed to reset.
Nathan headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Warm water hit his shoulders, washing away the faint sweat and lingering tension in his body. He stood there for a few minutes longer, letting his thoughts settle.
The registration. The license. The spear.
It all felt real now.
'I am a hunter..'
When he finished, he changed into comfortable clothes and returned to his room.
He laid everything out on his bed.
The spear, placed carefully along the length of the mattress. The leather vest beside it. The two regeneration potions lined up neatly, their glass catching the light.
Nathan sat at the edge of the bed and looked at them.
This was his starting kit.
He nodded to himself, then turned to his desk and sat down.
The computer hummed softly as the screen lit up.
Nathan cracked his knuckles once and began typing.
"Spear guide for goblins."
Enter.
Dozens of results appeared.
He refined it.
"Spear goblin rift clear."
"Spear beginner goblin."
"Spear Sunken Tunnels goblins."
He clicked through links quickly, skimming titles, closing anything that felt exaggerated or staged.
Eventually, one video caught his eye.
It wasn't a polished guide.
It was a stream clip with a plain title.
Goblin Village Clear – Full Run (Uncut)
Nathan clicked.
The footage loaded slowly, then began.
The camera angle was shaky, pulled from a helmet-mounted feed. The environment looked rough, wooden surrounded by crude wooden barricades.
'A goblin village.'
Nathan leaned forward.
There were voices in the background which sounded casual and relaxed.
"Alright, Thruster, you're up."
A man with a spear stepped into view.
"Don't call me that," the man replied with a frown.
Laughter followed.
"Why don't you just show us how you thrust?" someone joked as the spearman adjusted his grip.
Nathan blinked.
Thruster?
The spear wielding hunter moved forward.
The first goblin rushed him, screeching.
The spear shot forward.
Clean and accurate.
The tip pierced straight through the goblin's skull.
The body dropped instantly.
Nathan's breath caught.
Another goblin charged.
Another thrust.
Another kill.
The group laughed.
"See? He only knows one move!"
"Is that how you thrust, hahaha!"
Nathan holding back his laugh put his attention back to the screen.
This spearman didn't energy on useless movements. No swings, just direct efficient thrusts.
When a goblin moved erratically, the spear went into the torso instead, punching through muscle and bone.
When multiple goblins rushed together, the spearman didn't pull the spear out.
He drove it forward, impaling one, then twisted slightly and shoved again—like a skewer.
Three goblins fell in seconds.
Nathan leaned closer to the screen.
The spearman didn't get hit once.
Not even grazed.
He kept his feet planted, adjusting only when necessary. His distance control was precise. His timing was perfect.
Nathan's eyes flicked unconsciously to his own hands.
'Strength and Precision' he thought about his stats.
Probably both are needed to make this possible.
"Maybe this is why they call him Thruster," someone said in the background.
Nathan ignored the jokes this time.
He rewound the video.
Watched again.
This time at a slower speed.
He focused on the details.
Foot placement, the angle of the spear.
The way the spearman recovered after each strike.
He didn't overextend, nor rush in.
He waited for the opening, then committed fully.
Nathan paused the video.
"…That's amazing," he murmured.
He leaned back slightly, heart beating a little faster.
'Will I ever get to that point?' he wondered.
'Is that all just from his stats?'
Strength. Precision. Experience.
Or was there something else?
Nathan stared at the paused frame.
Then he reached into his drawer and pulled out a notebook.
He flipped to a blank page and picked up a pen.
Carefully, he began writing notes, about what he was learning from Thruster.
He looked at the notebook, then at the paused video again.
Maybe this was why his Focus stat was higher.
Not because he was smarter.
But because he always tried to learn.
Nathan resumed the video and watched again, pen moving as he added more notes.
He didn't know when he would enter the tunnels.
But when he did,
He wouldn't be going in blind.
***
Ethan stepped out of the elevator and walked down the short hallway toward his department, shoes clicking softly against the polished floor.
Ethan Hale looked nothing like he did at home.
His hair was neatly combed back, not tied loosely or falling into his eyes. His suit was pressed, jacket sitting properly on his shoulders, sleeves ending exactly where they were supposed to.
No wrinkles.
If someone didn't know him, they might think this was who he always was.
The building was quiet at this hour. StoneCrushers didn't keep a large office staff.
There wasn't much need.
The frontliners hunted. The backline processed.
Ethan pushed open the glass door and stepped into the office space.
Four cubicles.
That was it.
Each one occupied, though not all of them were staffed at the moment. Screens glowed softly. Papers were stacked neatly. The faint hum of machines and climate control filled the air.
Ethan set his bag down at his desk and loosened his tie slightly before stopping himself and straightening it again.
Not yet.
He walked to the small break area near the wall and poured himself a cup of coffee. Black. No sugar.
He took one sip and winced.
'Too hot.'
He carried it back to his cubicle and sat down, setting the cup beside his keyboard. His screen flickered to life as he logged in, a familiar dashboard appearing instantly.
Corpse intake reports.
Rift clearance logs.
Pending payments.
Ethan scanned the list automatically.
Yesterday's collection was already flagged.
Three rifts.
Multiple monster corpses with one larger variant that needed special handling.
Payment still processing.
Ethan sighed quietly and took another sip of coffee, careful this time.
This was his job.
Management, documentation, corpse collection and verification.
Ensuring the hunters got paid and the guild didn't get fined.
High responsibility with barely any appreciation.
He was typing when footsteps approached.
They did not sound rushed. They sounded confident.
Ethan looked up instantly.
The man approaching his cubicle wore a polo shirt and slacks, hands in his pockets like he was taking a casual stroll rather than walking through a guild office. His hair was dirty blonde, styled carelessly but deliberately so. He looked young.
Ethan stood up immediately.
"Good evening, Mr. Vale," Ethan said.
He straightened and bowed slightly.
The man smiled.
"Hello, Mr. Hale," Mr. Vale replied. His voice was relaxed, almost lazy. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
"Not at all, sir," Ethan said quickly.
Mr. Vale leaned lightly against the side of the cubicle wall, glancing around as if he were mildly amused by the space.
"I'm just here to ask," Mr. Vale said, "how long it'll take to get our payment for yesterday's rift corpse collection."
He smiled as he said it.
Ethan felt his jaw tighten.
"Sir, I'll make sure this is sorted out as soon as possible," Ethan replied smoothly. "There were some verification delays, but I'll personally follow up."
Mr. Vale nodded slowly.
"Good," he said. "Try to speed it up."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Vale pushed off the cubicle and turned away without another word, already pulling his phone out as he walked toward the exit.
Ethan stayed standing until the glass door closed behind him.
Only then did he sit back down.
He stared at his screen for a few seconds longer than necessary.
"…What an asshole," Ethan muttered under his breath.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with one hand.
StoneCrushers was a respected guild in Meridian 12. Not exactly famous, or elite, but solid.
Mr. Vale had inherited it.
That was no secret.
Everyone knew the story.
His father had built the guild from nothing. Fought. Bled. Nearly died more times than anyone could count.
Mr. Vale had stepped into leadership barely out of his teens.
Twenty years old.
Guild leader and frontliner by title. Administrator in reality.
Ethan took another sip of coffee, grimacing again as it burned his tongue.
He didn't hate the man because he was young.
He hated him because he didn't understand how the industry worked.
Every monster body had to be cataloged. Tagged. Broken down properly. Certain organs preserved. Others destroyed. Regulations were strict for a reason.
If Ethan rushed the process and something went wrong, it wouldn't be Mr. Vale answering to the authorities.
It would be him.
Ethan rolled his shoulders and leaned forward, pulling the relevant files back up on his screen.
He began typing again, fingers moving fast.
Hunters liked to think killing the monster was the part that made money, unfortunately, it wasnt.
The money part was everything that came after.
Ethan glanced briefly at the time.
'Nathan should be home by now.'
Ethan had hoped that the system wouldn't awaken for his brother.
Not because he didn't want his brother to grow.
But because he knew where that path led.
He exhaled slowly and shook his head.
Too late for that now.
Ethan turned back to his screen and finished processing the final report. He sent it off, marking it high priority.
Then he sat there, staring at the confirmation message, waiting for when he could go home.