After emerging from the fusion with his mysterious double, Alex's mind slowly returned to consciousness.
A powerful surge coursed through his veins—like a storm bottled within. His vision sharpened, eyes glinting with a supernatural clarity. Sounds around him became crystal clear, distant rustles and murmurs echoing as though whispered right beside him. His every movement felt weightless yet precise—like gravity itself had changed just for him.
He glanced at his stomach.
"Damn… my stomach," he muttered.
To his shock, not only was the wound gone—it was like it had never existed.
"You got lucky, Clara," he growled, voice laced with venom. The memory of betrayal burned in his chest, reigniting the flames of rage. "I swear on everything, Clara… one day, you'll pay for this."
Though his body had ascended into something greater, exhaustion crept over him. He felt drained. Hungry. His stomach let out a loud growl.
"You really never know your bounds, do you?" he said to it like it was a stubborn companion.
He took a step forward. The forest was darker now, the night heavy and silent.
"Damn… it's already been seven hours," he guessed. "I need to move faster. At least I'm clear of those freaks…"
In his mind, he assumed the abominations had either been slain by someone else—or simply left him for later. What he didn't know… was that he had annihilated them all while unconscious. Every last one.
Meanwhile, outside the forest, more rookie hunters began to emerge from the trial portal. Bloodied, bruised, but alive.
Abominations weren't just monsters—they were demons wearing the flesh of the damned. Ranked by their power, the weakest ones moved on instinct, thirsty for blood. But the higher-ranked… they were calculated, strategic, and terrifyingly intelligent. Worse, many of them were sorcerers—wielders of forbidden magic so potent that it would shred a normal human to dust. Once someone turned into an abomination, their humanity was gone forever—even if their face remained the same.
Soon, all the surviving candidates stood outside the portal. The instructors assumed the test had ended.
"Strange," one whispered. "There's no presence left inside…"
One of them, a seasoned instructor, raised his arm and whispered, "Source cancel."
The portal began to shimmer, fading…
But then—a hand shot out.
Gasps erupted.
The moment Alex's body emerged, a shockwave of dread rippled across the crowd. His bloodied form, drenched in sweat and gore, looked like something dragged out of a nightmare. He collapsed to the ground, breathing hard.
"I'm almost late," he muttered with a crooked grin, raising a trembling hand to the sky. Then, laughter—loud, wild, victorious.
"I'm alive!"
Tears ran down his cheeks, disappearing past his ears. "Damn you, Clara… you actually killed me…" His voice broke. "If not for… if not for…"
Silence.
Though his hatred for Clara remained, to him now… she was nothing.
Above on a raised platform stood the three heads of the academy:
Miss Layla Johnson – clad in flowing blue garments, graceful and calm.
Ethan Merlins – a man dressed in red robes with floral edges, radiant and sharp-eyed.
Oliver Bruce – donned in battle-worn armor, stern and commanding.
Seeing the exhaustion in their young recruits, they delayed the next stage of the test.
One instructor raised his voice. "Attention! Tomorrow, we continue the final ceremony. For now… rest. Heal."
The field echoed with cheers, as the recruits slowly dispersed into the mist.
---
Later that night…
Alex finally stumbled home. His stomach groaned again as he examined a half-filled jar on the table.
"This… is what's left?" he groaned. "Can't even fill a cup…"
He downed the contents sluggishly, then crashed onto the bed, wrapping himself in his blanket and surrendering to deep sleep.
---
Morning.
He woke in a panic—his body coated in some foul-smelling liquid. Gagging, he bolted for the bathroom and scrubbed himself clean under steaming water for nearly an hour.
"What the hell was that?!" he muttered between scrubs. "Disgusting…"
When he was sure the stench was gone, he sighed in relief.
"Whew. Thought I was cursed. I swear I was ready to become a hermit for life…" He chuckled.
After dressing up in his hunter uniform, his confidence returned.
"Let's see where I ranked. Maybe something decent this time…"
But doubt crept in. "Don't get too relaxed, Alex."
---
At the event grounds…
The recruits gathered. Moments later, the elders appeared, met with thunderous applause. The noise grew so loud, casual conversations vanished into the roar.
Miss Layla Johnson raised her hand. Instantly, silence fell over the crowd like a calm sea.
The badges were presented:
Square stone: Lower rank
Double circle: Intermediate
Triple triangle: Superior elite
When Alex saw his badge… a square.
The only one among hundreds.
He looked down in shame. "Just as I expected…" he whispered, eyes burning. "Shit."
Miss Layla Johnson stepped forward. Her voice was soft—but it carried.
"This is only the beginning. Train well. Fight strong. Be the saviors of humanity."
Afterward, the new hunters were divided into squads of three.
Team 10:
Alex Morgan
Zeke Achenveil – A flame sorcerer from a mid-grade family. His father was a hunter, his mother ran their business. A triple-triangle elite.
Seraphina Rian – From a noble lineage. Her father, once a great hunter, lost an arm to a top-ranked abomination.
A week passed.
Each new hunter received a uniform—dark green tops with a large sword piercing a skull emblem on the back. Chocolate-colored trousers and shorts. They weren't just clothes; they were crafted from rare, durable materials, designed to withstand battle. Their swords were forged by master blacksmiths, and each team received a Watcher—a sorcery-tech hybrid that glowed brighter as it detected nearby abominations.
The Watcher:
Square-shaped with curved edges
A green orb at its center
A glowing navigation line that brightens based on proximity to danger
Worn on the wrist, always active
---
Later…
Alex returned home after training with his team. Exhausted, he sank into the couch. His head throbbed, memories swirling—his family's death, the betrayal, the fusion.
"Fight, Alex… kill them all…"
The voice echoed in his mind until darkness claimed him again.
---
The next morning…
The sun spilled into his room. Outside, merchants bustled, hunters passed by. Then—a knock.
Alex stirred.
Another knock.
"Who's there?" he called groggily.
A voice responded—female.
He stumbled to the door and opened it to find Seraphina and Zeke, both dressed in their hunter uniforms.
"W-What?!" Alex stammered, caught in nothing but his shorts.
Seraphina's eyes darted aside, flustered. "Ah… good morning, Alex…"
Embarrassed, Alex retreated, cleaned up at lightning speed, and changed. As the fabric of the uniform settled on him, he felt it:
A new beginning.
A new power.
A new hunt.