"Yeah, there's been budget cuts, and we must let some workers go." Gerod rubs his finger under his nose. "Haah..." I let off a sigh and rubbed my hand through my hair, scooping up a good bit of dark, congealed blood. "Sorry kid, life's not fa-" SPLAT!
I huck the gelled mass at his face. "You can keep your half-assed apology!" While Gerod is dry, heaving and clawing at the mass sticking to his face that blinds him. Just to be sure, I jam my blood-covered finger in his sandwich. "Goodbye, you fat bastard." I mock bow before walking out of the office as Gerod gags and vomits from the smell invading his nose.
Leaving the warehouse, I walk through the streets of the city's lower levels. All around are shabby brick and wood houses. Everyone here is shady and poor. The bottom levels were made for powerless people. Orphans, old, crippled, and just plain old poor, make the bottom layer of their homes.
"Heya Caisen! You're home, doing good." I follow the old, gentle voice and smile. "Yeah..." I respond to the owner of the old voice. It was the man who raised me. His name is Stewart Brine. He is tall, not that you can tell, due to his sitting in his chair. He is a retired hunter, and for a good reason: he lost his right leg in a destructive hunt. Despite being almost seventy years old and sporting greying hair, he is still full of strength. His muscles were still rippling with power, and his eyes were sharp. After all, he absorbed an essence during his career. He said it was a werewolf's essence he took and got lucky with its vitality.
"So what's the big occasion for you being an early son?" Stewart asked, still smiling warmly at me. My smile faltered,, and I gave the bad news. "I...got laid off," I spoke weakly as my shoulders shrugged. Stewart freezes and looks at me, unblinking. "Damn...well, now we're both unemployed." He says like it not a big deal and drinks from his flask. "You're not upset?" I asked, puzzled, as he just shrugged. "What are we going to do?" He takes another swig.
I think of new plans to give us a steady outcome and continue our mediocre life. One thought has come to my mind throughout my time working at that shitty warehouse.
"I will become a hunter." As soon as I finished my idea, Stewart choked and spit his alcohol stash like a burst pipe, which barely missed me. "WATCH IT!" I shout at my coughing father figure. He gets his bearings, wipes his mouth, and looks at me with a deadly serious stare."Are you serious?" He didn't stop looking until I answered, which made me uneasy as he was always laid back.
"Y-yes!" I stumbled over my words from his unnerving gaze. "Ok." Stewart shrugged and took another swig as if he wasn't looking like a mob. "What was with the reaction!?" Is he bipolar? "What? It's a life-changing decision. I had to make sure you're sure." He swirled his flask leisurely.
Ok, he has a point. "Now, follow me, boy. You're taking a crash course on hunting." Stewart got up to his full 6'5 height. You could briefly see his prosthetic from under the hem of his pants.
I followed Stewart as he led me to his room. He then moved his bed over to reveal a trap door. "How long has this been here!?" How can this be under my nose for all the time I lived here? "You never asked." Stewart told me like this was common sense.
"Haaah, ok so what do you want to show me?" I asked, trying to get over Stewart's annoying response. He didn't say anything and just climbed down into secret passage.
Ok, ignore me, you old jerk. I followed behind Stewart into the dusty compartment. Once inside, I freeze in place. There were weapons, armor, and books. This was all of Stewart's equipment when he was a hunter. What stood out to me the most was a giant black hammer axe hybrid. One side was that a of a giant hammer while the other was the blade of an axe.
Stewart then rubbed his fingers along its handle with a nostalgia look in his eyes. Before I can ask, he throws a book towards me. "Read this." Stewart shortly replied and tossed me a worn book.
It was titled 'Monster Classification' with some hard leather covering and about three inches thick. The first page was monster power levels. From weakest to strongest. It started with whelps, which were the weakest of the respective race. Then warriors, the standard power of the species. Myths, monsters who have reached a above average power. Legends, these are monsters who have tremendous might. Finally, ancients, these monsters lived long and have gained enough power to level cities themselves. Ok, that's heavy, I mean who wouldn't be shocked if they found out there are monsters this strong.
As I read on, it talked about each known species and weaknesses. Some parts being a weak spot and how some things weakens a monster, but usually a good blow at the right spot can end them. Monsters gain power from consuming people and sometimes each other, that leads to mutations which creates deviants. Deviants are monsters who out of norm for their species. Deviants rarely happened as monsters usually are killed by their species or other species of monsters to not have a predator among them.
"Hey Stewart, have you met a deviant?" I asked looking around for him. "Nope." Stewart came from behind me carrying a box. "Holy!" I clutch my chest from is unnoticed form coming from who knows where.
"Don't do that!" I pant out as he chuckles. "Your instincts need work if you want to be a hunter." Stewart then placed the box on the flow with a thud. "Now, put these on." He said almost too cheerfully. Suspicious.
I opened the box to find weighted bands and a vest. "How heavy are these?" Stewart stayed smiling at my question and answered. "Yes" Stewart kept that same stupid smile.