The sound of cheap, scratched cutlery scraped against a chipped plate, filling the small, dimly lit room with an eerie rhythm. Ethan Ward poked at the remains of his cold, three-day-old meal, his eyes heavy with fatigue. He hadn't slept. Today was his first hunt.

His gaze flickered toward the hunter's license resting on the table—a thin, laminated card that had taken him four years to earn. It felt surreal. Hunters were mostly awakened—those blessed by the Aether, wielding magic and strength far beyond anything humans like him could hope for. But since the laws had changed, humans, too, could join the hunt. If they could survive it.

Ethan glanced across the table at his sister, Lyla, who had been up all night cleaning his weapon—a cheap, rusty sword he'd bought from the black market. The blade, called Dusksting, was barely functional. He knew that. It had been sold to him as a "relic of legend," but in reality, it was more like a scrap of metal with a handle. Still, it was all he had.

"You know, you didn't have to stay up," Ethan muttered, trying to mask the nerves in his voice. His hands shook slightly as he reached for the cup of water beside him.

Lyla smiled, her small fingers carefully holding the now polished blade. "I wanted to. It's my way of helping." She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. "You're gonna do great, big bro."

Ethan couldn't help but smile, though the weight of her faith pressed heavily on him. He knew she believed in him—probably more than he believed in himself. He stood up slowly, walking over to where Lyla sat with Dusksting across her lap. He gently took the sword from her hands and strapped it across his slim build, securing it to his back.

He exhaled, feeling the familiar tension in his chest. "Thanks, Lyla," he said quietly.

She gave him a thumbs up, beaming. "You're going to come back a hero, I just know it!"

Ethan couldn't bring himself to respond to that. Instead, he nodded and turned toward the door, stepping out into the bright morning light. The slum they lived in was as rough as ever—dust stirred up by the wind, mingling with the acrid smell of waste and metal. It was a place people like them had no choice but to call home.

As he made his way down the creaking steps of their small shack, he noticed his younger brother, Liam, sitting on the porch with his back to him. The boy was silent, unmoving, as if the weight of the world sat on his small shoulders.

Ethan hesitated. "Liam…" he began, but before he could finish, his brother spoke.

"You know this is suicide, big brother," Liam said quietly, his voice flat, barely audible above the wind.

Ethan forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I know," he replied, adjusting the strap that held *Dusksting* in place.

Liam turned, his eyes red, barely holding back tears. "You better come back in one piece, okay?"

For a moment, the world felt too heavy for Ethan to handle. He clenched his fist and fought the lump in his throat. Then, with the brightest smile he could muster, he threw a thumbs up into the air. "Okay!" he shouted back, his voice full of forced cheer.

Liam didn't respond, but Ethan didn't need him to. He turned and began walking away, his heart pounding in his chest. As he stepped further from the only family he had left, a single thought echoed in his mind.

"Don't die today".

Ethan's heart pounded as he stepped into the dimly lit guildhall. Dusty banners hung from the high ceiling, each one proudly displaying the emblem of "Vigile Mortalis", the 7th most powerful guild. It was known across the land for being the only guild run by a human hunter who hadn't awakened—Alaric Thorn, an A-Class hunter who had earned his rank through sheer grit and determination.

Ethan walked towards the registration desk, his eyes scanning the room filled with battle-hardened hunters. Some glanced at him briefly before returning to their conversations, while others paid him no mind. He clutched his hunter's license in one hand, the other instinctively brushing against the hilt of Dusksting on his back.

At the desk sat an old man. His white hair was thinning at the top, and his balding head caught the light from the flickering bulb overhead. A pair of cracked spectacles rested on his nose, and he squinted as he looked through a stack of papers. His left arm, missing several fingers, had been replaced by a series of crude prosthetics, and his right eye gleamed unnaturally—a glass eyeball that seemed to fixate on Ethan as he approached.

With a heavy thud, the old man stamped a document, setting it aside before turning his attention to Ethan. He raised an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe. "Not even the Essence Gauge, huh? Didn't pass the physical test either?" His voice was rough, seasoned by years of experience. He adjusted his glasses, leaning forward slightly. "You sure you're cut out for this, boy?"

Ethan hesitated, his fingers brushing nervously against the back of his neck. He forced a smile but had no answer. The truth was, he didn't know if he was cut out for it. He hadn't passed the Essence Gauge—a test that measured an individual's Aether potential—and he definitely didn't have the physical prowess most hunters boasted about.

The old man let out a deep sigh, noticing Ethan's worn-out clothes and the cheap, unregistered magic tool strapped to his back. He grunted, clearly unimpressed, but didn't push the matter further. "Alright," he muttered, stamping Ethan's license with a loud thud. "We've got a raid for ya. Join the Iron Fang crew—they're prepping for a run in the Scorched Barrens. You'll probably be stuck with the support unit. Go find Captain Reyna Steelwind, she'll brief ya."

Ethan's stomach churned as he took the stamped license back. The *Scorched Barrens*? That was a dangerous zone, it sounded menacing and dangerous . But he forced himself to stay composed, nodding to the old man as he turned to leave.

Before he could take a step, the old man called out. "Hey, kid."

Ethan turned, his heart skipping a beat.

The old man gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Don't die out there."

Ethan gave a quick nod, his mind racing. "Don't die out there?"Easier said than done.