The streetlight flickered above him, washing the concrete in a tired orange hue. Akio's footsteps were uneven—limping, dragging, but steady. His ribs throbbed, each breath a reminder of the boot that slammed into his chest, but his eyes remained sharp. Focused.
He could've called someone. Could've flagged a transport orb or even curled up and waited. But he didn't. He walked—foot after foot, muscle twitching in protest, until the building with the sterile white walls and old mana-laced lighting came into view.
The hospital.
Sliding through the front door like a ghost in the night, Akio didn't make eye contact with anyone. Not until he collapsed—half-controlled—into one of the reception chairs, clutching his side, breath labored but purposeful.
A pair of footsteps came closer. Then a voice. Familiar.
"You again?"
He looked up.
The woman standing there was maybe twenty-two at most. Shoulder-length black hair, tied loosely behind her back. Her white coat flowed behind her like a mage's robe. A stethoscope dangled at her chest, but it was the way she narrowed her eyes at him that gave her presence.
"I saw you last week," she said, arms crossed. "What happened now?"
Akio opened his mouth.
Paused.
"…Fell."
Her eyes scanned him. "Onto what? A mountain?"
She crouched beside him, firm but calm, like she'd done this a thousand times. Gently, her fingers brushed along his arm—frowning slightly when her hand stopped over his forearm.
"…These weren't here before."
"What?"
"Muscles. A lot more of them. You've been training?" She looked at him again. "You don't look like someone who trains."
Akio managed a wry smile. "Guess I'm just efficient."
She exhaled sharply through her nose and stood. "Get up. You're not dying, but you're not going home either. At least not yet."
The hospital bed was colder than last time. The mana-charged linens hummed faintly as he lay back, feeling the energy patching him together slowly. His right hand—iron, cool, foreign—rested against his chest. He stared at it for a long moment.
His vision blurred slightly.
Not from pain.
Just… the strangeness of it all.
He should've died today. The thug had been faster, stronger, and wildly more trained in mana. Yet somewhere in the middle of that alleyway fight, something clicked. A momentary shift in perception. The world slowed—not from fear, but focus. And then he saw them. The particles. The traces of something ancient. Something primal.
Mana.
That was the word people used. But it felt more like a permission. Like the world had opened a slit just wide enough to whisper, "You may enter now."
And now here he was.
Alive.
Alone.
Thinking.
The doctor returned once—checked his vitals, made some notes on her clipboard, and left again without saying much. She didn't press him with questions. Didn't ask who he fought or why he was there.
It was nice.
Too nice.
He laid there for hours, the sterile room dimming to match the night, until the ceiling tiles looked less like panels and more like puzzle pieces waiting to be solved.
Then the thoughts came.
What was that I saw?
Mana? No. Not just that.
It was… awareness. Everything was sharper. My heartbeat, his footsteps, the vibration of his punch—like I could almost dodge it. Almost.
He flexed his iron hand.
The old him would've been terrified of this change. Would've shrunk back into simulation. Into the dream realm where time bent and nothing touched him.
But now? Now there was weight to every second. Tangibility. No longer just theory, but experience. A cracked rib and scuffed knuckles told him this was real. That his world was changing.
And maybe…
Maybe he could change with it.
They call them Hunters.
People who venture into dungeon zones, hunt beasts, bring back relics, and make coin. Some are idiots. Others legends. My parents… they were Hunters. Rankers, even. And they died because of it.
And yet, I wonder…
Did they feel it too? That shifting current. The pull toward something greater than a desk job, or a mock battle in school simulation pods. Maybe they heard the same whisper I did.
Akio shifted slightly, wincing.
But the pain was good.
It told him he was still here.
The decision came quietly. Not with a grand speech, or lightning splitting the sky. Just a simple thought, spoken aloud to the empty room:
"I want to be a Hunter."
Not for glory.
Not even for revenge.
But because this world, with all its brutality and beauty, had finally cracked open its door. And he wanted to walk through it to become stronger.
Two days later, the paperwork was signed.
The process was surprisingly bureaucratic. Identity verification, health clearance, mana sensitivity scan—all completed in hours. And then came the transport authorization: one ticket to a Hunter military base near the southern ridge. Basic training began immediately for initiates.
"Surprised you passed the scan," the clerk muttered as he handed Akio the pass, glancing at the readings. "You've got high potential mana flow, but it's weird. Like it's sleeping with one eye open."
Akio didn't reply.
He just nodded, tucked the pass into his coat, and walked off.
Outside, wind rustled the leaves.
And he smiled.
Because for the first time in a long while, he wasn't running senarios in his head.
He was living them.
The hallway lights buzzed faintly as Akio stepped out of his hospital room, a bandaged arm and a half-finished discharge form crumpled in his fist. He didn't need a send-off. Not from the staff. Not from the world. He just needed purpose. And now, he had one.
Outside, winter sunlight pierced through the haze of the city, and the chill bit into his skin as if to remind him he was alive. A fresh kind of alive. The kind that had faced death and come out different. The kind that saw glowing particles in the air and wasn't afraid anymore.
He made his way back home in a quiet haze, and when he opened the front door, the familiar creak made his grandmother turn from the kitchen.
"You're back," she said softly, setting the kettle down.
Akio nodded, hanging his coat by the door. "Just for a bit."
She looked him over. Her gaze lingered on the faded bruises, the edge of the bandage that peeked from beneath his sleeve, the stiff way he moved. Her eyes didn't question—she had seen too much in her life to pry. But they waited.
"I've decided," he said.
She poured tea and handed him a cup without a word, motioning for him to sit. He did, the steam curling around his face.
"I want to be a Hunter."
She didn't flinch. "You're serious?"
"I am."
He sipped, waiting. Silence stretched between them, and he half-expected a lecture, a protest, anything. But she just watched him.
"I figured," she finally said.
That caught him off-guard. "You did?"
"You've had that look since you were a kid. Like you were meant for more than this cage of walls and routine. You just didn't know where to start."
"I do now."
She stood and reached for the small drawer by the sink. From it, she pulled a faded envelope—sealed and labeled with the city's Hunter Bureau insignia.
"I signed you," she said, setting it down in front of him. "Back when your parents…" she trailed off. "I didn't think you'd be ready. But now?"
Akio took the envelope slowly, blinking. "You knew I'd choose this?"
She smiled faintly. "No. But I hoped you would."
He stood in silence, then wrapped her in a one-armed hug. She didn't say anything. She just squeezed back.