Snap

The wolf lunged, claws scraping the floor. Fin dove to the side, crashing into the wall shoulder-first. Pain shot through his arm, but he scrambled up as the wolf spun around, snapping its jaws. 

He swung the dagger—missed by a mile. The wolf's claws raked the air, inches from his chest, and he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet.

Laughter echoed from outside—Red Hair, probably. "Slum boy's gonna be dog food!" he heard through the door.

"Shut up!" Fin yelled, but his voice cracked. The wolf charged again, and he barely rolled out of the way, its teeth snapping where his leg had been. He was losing—bad. His breaths came fast, shallow, and his hands shook. 

'I can't do this. I'm not a Hunter. I'm just a nobody.'

The wolf circled him, growling low. He could see the guild masters' shadows in the windows above, watching, judging. 

'They think I'm a joke. Everyone does.' His mind flashed to Meg—her purple hair, her loud laugh, her shoving that cash at him. "You've got a shot," she'd said. "Don't waste it."

And the slums. The stink, the rot, the broken everything. He'd promised to get them out. But here he was, about to get eaten by a damn dog.

"No," he growled, low and rough. "Not today."

The wolf lunged again, jaws wide. Something snapped in Fin—rage, fear, all of it boiling over. He didn't dodge this time. He roared and threw himself at it, slamming the dagger into its side. The blade sank in, but the wolf twisted, claws slashing his arm—hot pain, blood dripping. He didn't care.

"Get—off—me!" he yelled, yanking the dagger free and stabbing again. The wolf snapped at his face, but he grabbed its neck with his free hand. That buzz—his power—kicked in, wild and sharp. He didn't think, just pulled. Strength flooded his arm, the wolf's energy flowing into him like a shot of fire.

He flipped it over, pinning it to the ground. Its claws scratched at him, but he was stronger now—way stronger.

"You don't get to win!" he shouted, slamming the dagger into its chest. Once, twice—blood sprayed, hot and sticky. The wolf thrashed, whining, but he didn't stop. He stabbed again, then punched its skull with his bare fist, over and over, until it cracked and the thing went limp.

He knelt there, panting, covered in blood—his, the wolf's, didn't matter. The room was silent except for his ragged breaths. The wolf's body twitched once, then stopped.

He'd done it. Brutally, messily, he'd won.

The door clanked open behind him. He didn't move, just stared at his shaking hands, the dagger still dripping red. 

'some screws are definitely loose in there, I can just tell.' He thought, looking at the mess in front of him.

Vance's voice cut through the haze. "Slum boy. Out. Now."

He stood, wobbly, and turned. The group outside was quiet—no smirks, no laughs. Red Hair's mouth hung open, and Muscle Guy looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. Bow Girl just nodded, a tiny smile on her lips.

He limped out, blood trickling down his arm, and met Vance's hard stare. "Not bad," the instructor said, gruff but not mean. "Messy as hell, but not bad."

Fin grinned, shaky but real. "Uh… thanks?"

"Don't thank me yet," Vance said, jerking a thumb up. "They're watching."

Fin glanced at the windows. Shadows moved—guild masters, probably. Had he impressed them? Scared them? He didn't know. But he'd survived and for now, that was enough.

"Next!" Vance barked, and the group snapped back to life.

Fin slumped against the wall, catching his breath. Blood—his own and the wolf's—stuck to his hands, drying in sticky patches. His arm throbbed where the claws had sliced him, and his legs felt like they might give out any second. But he was alive. That wolf wasn't. 

He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, smearing more blood by accident. "Gross," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm a walking mess."

Nearby, the other recruits were buzzing—some bragging, some groaning about their cuts and bruises. Muscle Guy was flexing again, showing off a shallow scratch on his arm like it was a war scar. "See this? That frog-thing didn't stand a chance," he boasted, grinning at Red Hair.

"Yeah, sure," Red Hair shot back, twirling his knife. "You slipped in its spit and ate wall. Real heroic."

Muscle Guy's grin dropped. "Shut up, man. I still won."

Fin snorted, too tired to care if they heard him. Bow Girl, standing a few feet away, caught his eye and smirked. 

"They're loud, huh?" she said, her voice quiet but sharp.

"Yeah," he replied, shifting his weight. "Like barking dogs with no bite."

She laughed—a quick, soft sound—and adjusted the bow on her shoulder. "I'm Lila, by the way."

"Fin," he said, nodding. "Nice shooting in there. You made it look easy."

She shrugged, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. "Thanks. I've practiced a lot. You, though… that was nuts. You just—" She mimed punching the air. "—went wild on that wolf."

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Uh, yeah. Kinda lost it. Didn't really plan that."

"Didn't look like it," she said, but she was smiling. "Still worked, though."

Before he could answer, Instructor Vance's gravelly voice boomed across the room. "Alright, you sorry lot! Line up! Time for evaluation."

They shuffled into a messy line, nudging each other and whispering. Fin dragged himself over, falling in next to Lila. His boots squeaked again—loud and annoying—and Red Hair twisted around to smirk. 

"Slum boy's shoes sound like a dying rat."

"Better than your face looking like one," Fin mumbled, surprising himself again. Where'd that come from?

Lila snickered, covering her mouth. Red Hair glared but didn't say anything—Vance was already pacing in front of them.

"Shut your traps," Vance barked. "You fought. Some of you didn't suck. Now the guild masters decide who's worth their time. They've been watching from up there—" He jerked a thumb at the tinted windows high above. "—and they're picking who gets scouted. Rest of you? You stay with me, scrubbing floors 'til you're less useless."

Muscle Guy puffed out his chest. "They're scouting me for sure. I crushed that frog."

"Yeah, after kissing the wall," Lila muttered under her breath. Fin bit back a laugh.

Vance ignored them, pulling a tablet from his jacket. He tapped it, squinting at the screen. "Results are in. When I call your name, step forward. If you're scouted, they'll tell you where to go. If not, sit your butt back down."

The room went quiet, tension thick as mud. Fin's stomach twisted. 

'Scouted? Me?' 

He didn't even know what that meant, really—just that it sounded big. Better than hauling scrap, that's for sure. But after that messy wolf fight? No way. He'd probably freaked them out more than impressed them.

Vance started reading. "Ken—" Muscle Guy stepped up, grinning like an idiot. "—scouted by Iron Fang Guild. Go to the west hall."

"Yes!" He pumped a fist and strutted off, flexing one last time. "Told you!"

"Jace—" Red Hair perked up. "—scouted by Crimson guild. East hall."

Jace whooped, flipping his knife in the air—then dropped it again. "Oops," he said, scrambling to pick it up before jogging off. The group chuckled, even Vance cracked a tiny smirk.

One by one, names got called. Most of them—scouted. Some fancy guild with a cool name would claim them, and they'd swagger off like they'd won the lottery. Fin watched, his hope sinking lower with every step they took. 

'they're all better than me. Trained, cocky, not slum rats tripping over their own feet.'

"Lila," Vance said next. She straightened, gripping her bow. "Not scouted. Sit."

Her face fell, just for a second, before she shrugged and plopped onto a bench. Fin frowned. 

'Not scouted? Her? For real?' She was smooth as silk with that bat-thing, three arrows, bam, done. What gives?

Finally, Vance's eyes landed on him. "Fin."

He froze, then shuffled forward, heart pounding. "Uh… yeah?"

Vance stared at the tablet, then at him, his face twitching like it was annoyed. "Not scouted. Sit."

Fin's shoulders slumped. He nodded, trudging back to the bench next to Lila. 

'Figures.' He barely passed screening, and that wolf fight? Sure, he had won, but it was a bloody, screaming mess. No guild master wants that on their team.

The last few names got called—more scouts, more cheers. Soon, it was just Fin and Lila left sitting, the others gone to their shiny new guilds. The warehouse felt bigger, emptier, and way too quiet.

Vance tucked the tablet under his arm, pacing in front of them. "You two. The leftovers. Wanna know why you're still here?"

Lila raised a hand, casual but curious. "Yeah, actually. I hit that bat dead-on. What's the deal?"

Vance snorted. "You're good, kid. Clean shots, cool head. But bow users? Dime a dozen. Guilds want flash—big swords, fire powers, something to brag about. You're just… lucky, not special."

She frowned, crossing her arms. "Lucky's still alive, isn't it?"

"Tell that to them," Vance said, nodding at the windows. "They don't care."

Then he turned to Fin, eyes narrowing. "And you, slum boy. That wolf fight was a disaster."

Fin winced. "I won, though."

"sure," Vance growled. "You're unstable. Wild. That power of yours—Absorption? You don't even know what you're doing with it. One second you're flailing, the next you're smashing skulls. Guilds don't want a loose cannon. Too risky."

Fin stared at his boots, cheeks burning. Unstable. Risky. Yeah, that sounded about right. He felt it too—that rush when he grabbed the wolf, the way his power just took without him asking. What if he couldn't control it next time?

Vance clapped his hands, snapping them both out of their funk. "Alright, pity party's over. You're stuck with me and the Hunter Guild. F-rank grunts. That means grunt work—cleaning monster guts, running errands, maybe a low-level job if you don't screw up. Prove you're worth more, you might climb. Or not. Up to you."

Lila sighed, leaning back. "Great. From bat-slayer to mop-girl."

Fin cracked a grin despite himself. "Hey, least we're not dead."

"Yet," she shot back, smirking.

Vance glared at them. "You done? Good. Gear stays with you—don't lose it. Tomorrow, you report here at dawn. Late? I'll make you scrub the White Run with a toothbrush. Dismissed."

He turned and stomped off, leaving them alone in the big room. Fin glanced at Lila, who was twirling an arrow between her fingers, looking annoyed but not crushed.

"Guess we're the rejects, huh?" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

She snorted. "Yeah. The Slum Rat and the Bow Nobody. Sounds like a bad buddy comedy."

He laughed—a real one this time. "Starring us, coming soon to a trash heap near you."

She grinned, standing up and slinging her bow over her shoulder. "Well, 'co-star,' I'm heading out. See you at dawn—don't be late, or I'm not sharing my toothbrush."

"Deal," he said, hauling himself up.