As I stood outside the weathered brick building with a metal plaque that read 'TheGilgrad Hunter's Guild', a nervous thumping rises in my chest— not because the place is extraordinary, but because it reminds me that this world has its own rules. Monsters exist here, and this building is a practical proof.
Now, monsters aren't exactly commonplace— even in this world. It's like giraffes. I'm not going to see one outside my house, or probably even in my whole life, unless I go out of my way to find one. Same with monsters. Most people live their entire lives without ever encountering one.
Still, there are places— regions known as Red Zones— where they roam freely. These zones haven't existed since forever. Instead a new one seems to appear in every few decades, usually in remote, uninhabited areas, while older ones disappear when all its monsters have died.
So basically, keeping a track of these locations at all times is necessary.
For the most part, monsters remain in these zones, fighting among themselves to survive. But sometimes, one escapes and slips into human territory and even that– can kill an entire village.
So whenever a new zone is discovered, the authorities send in hunting teams— sometimes even armies— to raid and contain it.
Naturally, becoming a monster hunter isn't easy. As one can imagine, the qualifications needed to become a hunter are quite demanding and rather specific. Candidates can either be combatant, swordsman, sorcerer, spellcaster or just fodder– depending upon their skill. Moreover, the level of skill determines the ranking and chances of finding employment, both in hunting and other related jobs.
The ranking system for monster hunters ranges from 9 to 1, with the lowest level being 9 for an average civilian without any combat ability to 1 being the highest where they can literally raid an entire Red Zone alone, they are called Masters— their existence is highly secretive and they can't even be controlled by the king.
Similarly, monsters are ranked from 5 to 1—Rank 5 being goblin-like creatures, and Rank 1 referring to titans capable of destroying entire kingdoms. However, the existence of Rank 1 monsters remains shrouded in legend, with no concrete proof to support it.
---
And now— here I am— standing in front of the guild to get myself certified as a hunter.
But no, I am not going to become a hunter. I might be a little athletic, but those monsters are in a completely different league.
What I need from here is simply a hunter's ID which will allow me to cross borders easily and provide a convincing proof of my fake identity.
I can just get the lowest level, and then voilà— I'll no longer be the third son of the Baron. I'll no longer be Sebastian.
I'll finally be myself again– without any pretense. And this life would truly be mine to live– freely.
The problem? I have no idea what qualifications they expect in a hunter candidate. Sebastian's memories didn't include anything about this.
I just hope it's nothing too complicated.
--
The interior of the guild wasn't anything glamorous— then again I should probably stop comparing every place to the manor. Standing where I was I quickly looked around.
The walls were paneled with worn wooden panels, decorated with faded hand-drawn maps and photographs of members who, I assume, were local celebrities. On the far wall hung a massive map of the continent detailing all the monster zones, with both active and inactive Red Zones clearly marked in red and gray. Beside the map was a bulletin board with advertisements, notices and requests pinned on it.
Then, I made my way to the reception desk, where a tired-looking clerk sat slouched over his workspace. He had dark circles under his eyes and thick glasses that slipped slightly down his nose. As I neared, he adjusted his glasses and began:
"Hello, sir. What can I help you with?" And then without giving me a single second he continued in a robotic voice, "If you're here to sell materials, please move to Counter 1. If you're submitting a request, head to Counter 2. For queries regarding previous raids, Counter 3. Thank you."
When I didn't move, he frowned slightly and began again.
"So, what is it? For general que—"
Before he could start reciting his script again, I quickly cut in, "Oh— yes. I wanted to apply for membership in your guild and receive a hunter's certificate."
The irritation in his eyes intensified, but his tone remained polite—impressively so. "Ah, I see. Then you're at the right counter. Please fill out these forms and return next week for the examination."
Oh God, I can see you hate your job, but could you please stop looking at me like you want to kill me?
I held back the words— no need to push my luck.
The forms were easy enough. I filled them with lies— very convenient considering they didn't even ask for birth certificate or proof of residence.
Once done, I returned the papers to the grumpy guy. But before he could take them, I leaned closer and slid a small pouch of silver coins across the counter and said, "How about a favor, my friend— maybe get that examination moved up?" I barely have a week
He stared at the bag, then looked up at me with a smile. A real one. All his irritation vanished in an instant.
"Of course, sir. Just five minutes," he said, standing up.
I blinked in confusion. "Wait— five minutes? For what?"
"Obviously, your examination, sir. I'll be right back." and with that he disappeared.
…Well. That worked.
But now I had a bigger problem.
What the hell is this examination about?
And more importantly—
What am I supposed to do now?