Chapter 2: The Late Arrival

The acceptance letter was not just a message but a passport through the gates. Without it, I stood in trouble's shadow.

Before The Hunter Academy's towering entrance, I shifted my weight, eyes flicking between the two guards. They stood motionless as carved granite, but disdain lingered beneath their skin.

They probably didn't enforce much. Students here were polished, prepped since diapers for this moment. I was a stray cat on marble floors—skilled in surviving, not ceremony. I'd replaced etiquette with armor, learned arrogance as a shield.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" the taller one said, voice like gravel across steel.

I kept my face blank. "It's... not on me. I lost it."

The second scoffed. "In my twenty years, no student has shown up without their acceptance letter. Then this guy walks in like it's a street market." He adjusted his stance. "Should've brought popcorn."

Cruel laughter. The kind meant to be heard.

Apparently, I was already making history.

They were seconds from tossing me when the device on the tall one's belt chirped red. A pause. He touched his earpiece, muttered something that sounded like my name—he'd seen my state-issued ID—and stared at me with mechanical indifference.

"You've been summoned. Go in."

The gate groaned open. Not an invitation. A test.

---

The administrative chamber gleamed with polished severity. The man behind the desk had eyes like tempered steel, expression forged from procedure.

He studied my ID as if it might sprout fangs. Launched into protocol: imposters, tradition, consequences. A sermon on structure and trust.

I nodded at the right times. Let it all slide off me like rain on stone.

Eventually, they confirmed my identity. Entrance exam data didn't lie.

I was in.

---

By the time I reached the classroom, the day was already legendary.

"Ah. He's here."

A woman's voice sliced the room in half. Conversation died instantly.

I stepped in. Thirty faces turned. Some amused. Most indifferent. A few had already decided I wasn't worth their time.

"This is Kai Renfield," she said. Calm voice, steel core. Her presence tightened the room like a drawn bow.

Then from the front, someone decided to use me as a stepping stone to popularity: "The guy who forgot his acceptance letter."

Another chimed in: "Hunter Academy's first disgrace of the year."

Laughter. Sharp and biting. It clung to the air like smoke.

I didn't flinch.

The woman's gaze narrowed. "I don't recall giving permission to speak."

Silence crashed down.

She turned back to me. "Take your seat."

Only one remained empty. Back row, by the window.

Fitting.

"I'm Aelira Varn," she continued. "Lead trainer for first-years."

Her silver hair shimmered under the lights, eyes scanning us like a hawk counting flaws.

"Keep up, or I'll cut you loose myself."

She looked like someone who lived by ideals, not orders. Fitting for the Hunter Academy.

Outside these walls, I'd mostly met immoral people with few principles.

I stared out the window, half-listening, when a whisper slid into my ear.

"They wouldn't laugh if they knew who you are."

I turned.

The girl beside me looked straight ahead. Crimson hair, calm face, a sword bag resting against the table. Not ornamental. Worn. Used.

While pretending to focus on Miss Varn's lecture, I murmured, "You talking to me?"

"Obviously," she said.

"Kai."

"Seris Veyne."

We whispered carefully, avoiding the attention of our instructor.

I hesitated. "You're... confident. Didn't hear what happened earlier?"

"I trust my instincts. And besides, you're not fazed by it either."

"Don't care."

I paused, checked the room, then asked, "What was that about 'who I am'?"

"I see things others don't. My Attribute lets me see mana auras. Yours eclipses even Miss Varn's."

Ah. So that's what it was.

That was an interesting Attribute. As far as I knew, you couldn't tell Attributes by aura—so I was safe. I wondered how much she could see about my mana levels. 

She probably didn't see how fast I refilled. I couldn't be sure, but it wasn't a major problem. Some people recovered mana fast—it could pass as natural if needed. 

Small details pile up. Enough, and they expose you. I needed to be careful.

"Mana's just a battery," I said. "Attributes play a bigger part."

"Maybe. But power speaks for itself. Like a phone without a battery—useless."

"And a battery without a phone is just potential. Balance matters."

She nodded slowly. "True."

I studied her. Sharp, but grounded.

"Water-Healing," I offered. "I patch people up."

That surprised her. "Didn't expect that. Healing is rare."

By now she probably understood why I argued against mana—what I was implying was that I didn't have an impressive Attribute.

Healing was rare, but in combat, you were dead weight. Always in need of protection. Always the first target. A parasitic existence.

My attention drifted to the sword she carried. It meant something special to her, so I took a guess based on weapons I'd seen before.

"Is that a channeling-sword?"

She immediately looked at me. "You know about mana channeling? That's rare for a new student."

"I think carrying that sword around is rarer. Those things are valuable."

Hunters belonging to the criminal world would kill for artifacts like that. They were a path to both power and wealth.

A moment passed. A shared silence. Not awkward. Settling.

I hadn't smiled in a while. Somehow, I did.

Then the ground shook.

A dull boom rolled through the walls.

Gasps. Frozen eyes. Even Varn flinched—barely.

She looked at her phone screen.

"Stay here," she ordered. Then vanished out the door.

Murmurs swelled.

"Attack?"

"A drill?"

"Beast maybe?"

"Beasts don't come this deep into cities."

Seris leaned close. "Your guess?"

I watched the sky outside. "Don't know. But the Academy doesn't flinch over nothing. Even the front guards are high-level hunters."

Minutes passed. Then Varn returned. Composed.

"There was an intruder. It's been handled." Before anyone could ask further, she spoke. "No further questions. Now let's finish our remaining session."

The room calmed. Most believed her. I didn't. Seris didn't either.

We whispered occasionally through the rest of class. It felt natural. Like picking up a conversation from another life.

By the end, I realized I hadn't registered half of Varn's lecture. Too focused on Seris—or letting her focus on me.

Outside, she disappeared into a group that welcomed her like royalty.

I didn't linger. I had no interest in surface-level alliances.

---

"Name?" the dorm clerk asked, not looking up.

"Kai Renfield."

"Room 2-07."

He slid the keycard over, more interested in the news playing behind him.

Breaking report. Two guards dead. One attacker. Captured.

So much for "handled."

Varn hadn't lied.

She just didn't tell the whole story.

---

I found my room. Spartan. Bed. Desk. Wardrobe.

Enough.

I collapsed onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling, thoughts circling like crows.

Late. Laughed at. Recognized by one. Then an attack.

Too early for bounty hunters…

If that's what it was.

If it was something else, it wasn't my problem.

I wasn't here to play detective. I was here to get strong while hiding. And I needed to find hunters with strong Attributes – dead hunters. That was the way I could grow stronger.

The rest?

Just noise.