The four bounty hunters sat around a makeshift campfire, its flames flickering in the crisp night air, casting long shadows on their weary faces. They were the ones who had pulled Larry from the pit days ago. There were three men—Garret, Sean, and Victor—and a young woman, Rina, who looked more like a teenager than a seasoned bounty hunter. Silence dominated the group as they focused on the warmth of the fire and the meal in front of them, until one of them finally broke it.
"What are we going to do about it?" Sean asked, his voice carrying an edge of frustration. He directed the question to Garret, who sat across from him, poking at the fire absentmindedly. Garret was a solidly built man with dark, unruly hair that framed his bearded face. The firelight threw shadows across his features, accentuating the exhaustion etched there.
Garret looked up, his brow furrowed as if trying to piece together Sean's question. When it clicked, he sighed deeply. A loud belch escaped his throat before he could answer. "Sorry," he muttered, taking a swig from a jug of water to clear his throat. The others watched him, waiting. Garret's word was final among them.
Garret wiped his mouth and finally spoke, his voice heavy with uncertainty. "I'm at a loss, Sean. We need this hunt, but we can't go against the Hunter's Rules."
Sean clenched his jaw, a frown settling on his face. "That's a tough nut to crack. I wonder why they made such a stupid rule in the first place."
Victor, the leanest of the group, leaned forward, his sharp features highlighted in the fire's glow. "The rule was made for our sake, Sean," he said, his voice solemn. "Without it, we'd be dead. Seven of us went into that hunt, and now only four are left. If we don't have numbers, we don't have strength."
The words hung in the chilly night air, reminding them all of the friends they had lost. Silence settled over them again, heavy and suffocating, as the memory of their comrades threatened to pull them under.
"I understand the reasoning, Victor," Garret said finally, his eyes meeting Victor's. "But we can't let their sacrifice go in vain. We have to finish what we started. This bounty is too important." His voice carried conviction that resonated with the others, even if doubts lingered.
But how could they possibly finish it? The Hunter's Rules were strict—no fewer than five people on a hunt. They were short by one, and even the thought of attempting it with just the four of them seemed suicidal.
Rina, who had remained silent, finally spoke up, her voice soft but firm. "I have a suggestion," she said, looking at Garret. "What about the boy?"
Garret frowned, as did the others. Larry—the boy they had pulled from the pit—was the first to come to mind. There was a flicker of hope in their eyes for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by doubt as they considered the situation.
"The boy?" Victor shook his head. "He's blind. He's no hunter. He doesn't look like he's ever been in a fight."
"But we did find him in a pit full of meteor beasts," Sean pointed out, his voice skeptical. "Maybe there's more to him than we think."
Garret sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's going to be a liability, Rina."
"We're not asking him to fight," Rina pressed, her eyes earnest. "We just need a fifth person to meet the requirement. That's it. He wouldn't have to do anything dangerous."
Victor crossed his arms, considering. "She's got a point, Garret. We're desperate. The boy is the only option we have right now."
Garret gave a humorless laugh. "We'd be dragging an innocent kid into this. He has no idea what he's getting into."
"Neither did we, when we first started this life," Rina argued. She squared her shoulders, her determination clear. "Besides, I'll protect him. I'll take responsibility for him."
Garret raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. "You? Protect him?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Rina, you still hide behind my back when things get tough."
Rina's face flushed with irritation. "That's not true Brother! I'm a Tier 4 Bounty Hunter now, remember? I can handle myself."
Garret shook his head, his expression softening. "Alright, alright. I've heard you all, and you're making sense. But we won't force him. He has to agree to this willingly. Even if he does owe us for saving his life." His tone was laced with humor, but it did little to lighten the mood.
They all knew the risks. Every hunt felt like it could be their last, and dragging Larry into it wasn't what any of them wanted. But they had no choice, and that reality weighed heavily on them.
"I'll talk to him," Rina said, standing up. She took a deep breath, her expression serious. She dished up some soup into a bowl and made her way to the tent where Larry had been resting.
Inside the tent, Larry sat cross-legged on the bed, his face glistening with sweat, his breathing deep and controlled. He had been meditating, focusing on the sensations that were slowly becoming more and more familiar since he had awoken as a Dhampir. The dark space around him was comforting, something he had known all his life. He didn't need sight—his other senses painted a picture of the world more vivid than any pair of eyes ever could.
Suddenly, the scent of cooked food entered his nostrils, followed by the faintest hint of another presence—a human, approaching his tent. He recognized the smell. It was Rina.
"Who's there?" Larry called out, his head tilting slightly as if to listen more intently.
Rina paused, her eyes widening. She had made no sound upon her approach, but Larry had somehow sensed her presence. She pushed the tent flap open and stepped inside, the flickering light of her conjured flame illuminating the dark space.
"It's Rina," she said, her voice soft as she placed the bowl of soup down beside him. "I brought you some food."
Larry turned his head slightly, his expression calm but curious. He could feel the warmth of the flame she held, the change in the air. The heat was unmistakable—an Infernal Core user. He frowned slightly, memories flashing through his mind. The Infernal Core had always unsettled him. His previous encounters had been anything but pleasant.
"Thank you," he said, reaching for the bowl. Without hesitation, he brought it to his lips and drank the soup in one go, ignoring the intense heat. Rina's eyes widened in surprise, and she opened her mouth to warn him, but it was too late.
"That was… refreshing," Larry said, setting the bowl down, forcing a polite smile.
Rina smiled back, a hint of pride in her eyes. "I made it myself," she said, a hint of bashfulness in her voice. Seeing him appreciate it gave her a sense of warmth.
But as Larry put the empty bowl aside, a sharp pain shot through his stomach. His body tensed, his face contorting as he doubled over, a groan escaping his lips. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could feel it—the soup was being rejected by his body. The changes since becoming a Dhampir were becoming more apparent each day, and now he understood—normal food wouldn't sustain him anymore.
"Larry?" Rina took a step closer, concern etched on her face.
Before Larry could answer, a voice echoed in his mind, mechanical and cold.
[You've consumed an unwanted substance. Your body has rejected this substance.]
Larry's eyes widened in horror. His mouth opened, and before he could control it, the contents of the soup came back up, spilling on nothing but Rina's body.