Orientation

"What a load of bull- sigh." 

Fin stood by the gear table, his fingers brushing over a scratched-up dagger. It wasn't shiny or cool like the swords the other recruits were grabbing—it was small, chipped, and kind of sad-looking.

'It's something, I guess,' he thought with a smirk. He slipped it into his belt, then grabbed a basic vest that smelled like old sweat and metal. It hung loose on his skinny frame, but it'd have to do.

Around him, the other newbies were buzzing with energy. Muscle Guy flexed in his new vest like he was posing for a billboard, while Red Hair twirled a knife between his fingers—until he dropped it and cursed loud enough to echo. 

Bow Girl was quieter, testing the weight of a short bow with a nod, like she already knew what she was doing. Fin just tried not to trip over his own boots as he shuffled back to the benches.

Instructor Vance stood on the platform, arms crossed, watching them like a hawk. His scar gleamed under the warehouse lights, and his gravelly voice cut through the chatter.

"Alright, you lot! Settle down and listen up. You're gearing up, so I'll tell you what's next. Some of you might already know, some of you are clueless—looking at you, slum boy." He shot a glance at Fin, who shrank a little in his seat.

Fin forced a grin. "Uh, thanks for the shoutout?"

Vance didn't smile. "Don't get cute. Here's the deal. This city's got multiple guilds. Hunter Guild's the big dog—everyone registers here, and you can work for us. But there's others out there too. Smaller guilds, richer guilds, weirder guilds. They've got their own power, their own pull. And they're always sniffing around for fresh meat."

Red Hair raised a hand, smirking. "So, what, we're meat now?"

"You're barely scraps," Vance shot back, shutting him up. "Point is, this test we're about to do? It's not just for us. It's a show. Guild masters from all over Arclight watch, and if you're good—or lucky—they might scout you. If not, you stay here with the Hunter Guild, scrubbing floors and hauling trash 'til you prove you're worth more."

Muscle Guy puffed out his chest. "Scout me? They'll be begging after they see me flex on some monster."

"Yeah, sure," Bow Girl muttered, rolling her eyes. "Flexing's real useful when a goblin's chewing your leg off."

Fin snorted, then covered his mouth when Muscle Guy glared at him. 'Oops.'

Vance clapped his hands, loud and sharp. "Focus! The test's simple. You go into the White Run—big room, lots of windows up top where the guild bigwigs sit. They watch you fight a monster. A real monster. Not some hologram or training dummy. These things bite, claw, and kill. You show off your skills, your guts, whatever you've got. Impress them, you might get a fancy offer. Flop, and you're stuck with me."

Fin's stomach flipped. "Real monster?" he mumbled, gripping the dagger tighter. 'Great. I barely survived the last one.'

Red Hair twisted around, grinning at him. "What's wrong, slum boy? Scared you'll trip over your trash powers?"

"Least I've got powers," Fin fired back, surprising himself. "What's yours? Annoying people to death?"

Red Hair's grin dropped, and Muscle Guy laughed. "Ooh, slum rat's got claws!"

"Enough!" Vance barked. "Save it for the test. Line up—single file. We're heading to the testing room. Move!"

The group scrambled to their feet, shoving and nudging into a messy line. Fin hung back again, ending up last like always. His heart was thudding hard now, and his palms were sweaty around the dagger's handle. 

'A real monster. Again. Okay, you've done this before. You can do it again. Right?'

The bow girl looked at him from the front and looked back in front.

They marched through another hallway—cold, gray, and echoing with their footsteps. The air got heavier, like it was pressing down on him. Up ahead, a huge double door loomed, painted white with scratches and dents all over it. 

'The White Run,' Fin guessed as he swallowed hard.

Vance stopped them in front of the doors, turning to face the group. "Here's how it works. One at a time. You go in, door locks, monster comes out. You fight. You win, you walk out. You lose…" He shrugged. "Well, we've got mops for that."

Bow Girl raised a hand. "What kind of monsters?"

"Random," Vance said. "Could be a goblin, a slime, a wolf. Could be something uglier. Point is, you don't know 'til it's trying to eat you. Who's first?"

Muscle Guy stepped up, grinning like an idiot. "Me! I'll show these guild jerks how it's done."

Vance nodded. "Fine. In you go." He slammed a fist on a button by the door, and it creaked open, revealing a big, empty room—white walls, white floor, and a row of tinted windows high up. Muscle Guy strutted in, flexing one last time before the door slammed shut behind him.

Fin peeked through a small window in the door. A metal grate in the floor slid open, and out came a green, warty thing—some kind of overgrown frog with claws. Muscle Guy roared and charged, swinging a club he'd grabbed from the gear table. The frog-thing spat something slimy, and Muscle Guy slipped, crashing face-first into the wall. The group outside winced.

"Off to a great start," Bow Girl said dryly.

Red Hair cackled. "Ten seconds! He's toast already!"

Muscle Guy got up, yelling, and bashed the frog-thing's head in after a messy fight. He limped out when the door opened, covered in slime but grinning. "Told you I'd crush it!"

Vance grunted. "Barely. Next!"

One by one, they went in. Bow Girl took down a big bat-thing with three clean arrows—smooth, like she'd done it a hundred times. Red Hair got a slime and stabbed it so many times it looked like jelly, laughing the whole way. Others struggled—some won, some barely crawled out, bruised and bloody.

Then it was Fin's turn.

Vance pointed at him. "Slum boy. You're up."

Fin's legs felt like jelly, but he nodded. "Uh, yeah. Okay." He stepped forward, the door creaking open. The room stretched out in front of him—empty, quiet, too bright. His boots squeaked as he walked in, and the door slammed shut behind him with a bang that made him jump.

"Nice one," he muttered to himself. "Real tough."

A low growl rumbled from the floor. The grate slid open, and out stalked a wolf—big, gray, with yellow eyes and teeth like knives. It wasn't some scaly freak like his last fight—this thing looked fast, mean, and hungry. Its fur bristled as it locked eyes with him, lips curling back in a snarl.

"Oh, crap," he whispered, gripping his dagger. His heart was in his throat. 'Real. It's real. It'll kill me.'