Mr Vick was right. Clay thought. Even though there were some new young hunters and essence extractors, there were significantly less people.
"Welcome to Stonetown guild. How may I help you today?"
"I'm here to reregister as an essence extractor."
"Reregister? Why is that?"
"I was gone for a long time, so..."
"I understand. Would you mind if you give me your name? I could help check the records if you like."
"Clay."
"Please give me a few minutes..." as the receptionist disappeared behind the door.
Clay looked around. The hall is a modest and cozy structure of stone walls and sturdy wooden beams. At the centre of the room are a few rough-hewn tables and benches, their surfaces warn and scarred. A group of six young hunters sat at a table across the room, whipsering and chatting to one another.
One of them walked over to Clay. "Hey mate! Are you a hunter? Are you looking for a party to join?"
"No, I'm here to register as an essence collector."
The hunter looked stunned. "Essence collector? With an aura as intense as yours? What a waste!"
Clay stared at him. "What did you just say?"
"Could you not see it? We are hunters, but your essence is three, no, four times as dense as ours! Why even bother being an essence extractor?"
Just then, the receptionist came running in. "Excuse me, are you Clay, who last joined the Grand Hunt from six months ago??"
"Yes. So I've been away for six months? I see now."
The room fell into silence.
"A-a survivor from the Grand Hunt?" the hunter said, taking a step back. The other five hunters came closer.
"Yes. Is something the matter?" Clay asked, looking at their dumbfounded expressions.
The hunter replied. "Do you not know what happened in it? Only three people returned alive, and they were all hunters. It was recorded as one of the biggest failed hunt collaborations in history, and both guilds in Stonetown and Riverville had wanted to keep quiet of it."
"Three people came back alive?" Clay asked, feeling bitter thinking about Ross and the other essence extractors in his party. "Who were they?"
"They were Sir Colt, Sir Hollis, and Miss Barlow. Miss Barlow was scarred from the hunt and left the guild when she returned; Sir Hollis has returned to train with his master. Sir Colt is still a hunter, but from what I heard he is no longer as confident with himself, and always makes mistakes in hunts. But enough about them, where have you been all this time?"
Clay told them his story, although he left out the part of him discovering the stone carvings and the skeleton.
I should respect Master Hanzo's wish of passing down his art to the one chosen. he thought.
He tried making the story as normal as possible, but as he finished the story and looked up, he saw all their jaws drop. "You ate raw monster hearts all this time?" the receptionist exclaimed. "Would you be open to registering as a hunter instead?"
"That's what I've been saying!" the hunter shouted.
Clay was surprised but at the same time also slightly proud. "Alright, I will register as a hunter instead."
"I'll let the guildmaster know of this at once!"
"Please come in." Clay pushed open the door to the Guildmaster's office. It's his first time entering the room, and he's always wondered what the Guildmaster looked like.
The room was not as grand as Clay had in mind–quaint and unassuming, with the same plain stone walls and wooden beams. A single window cast a soft light over the cluttered wooden desk. Behind it is a sagging shelf holding a few worn leather books. a dusty hunting horn, and a rusting longsword. Other than that, the only furniture was a single wooden seat opposite the Guildmaster's chair.
Across the desk, on what is supposed to be the Guildmaster's chair, sat a figure, his frame blocked out by the stacks of books and documents stacked on the table.
"Ah, Clay. Your surname?" "I'm not quite sure–" "I got you. It's Wren."
The man looked up. He's middle-aged, not very well groomed and slightly towards the chubby side. " Please take a seat. I heard you've been consuming monster hearts for six months when you were trapped in the forest. That explains the immense aura I can sense within you, it's quite dense."
"Yes, but–"
"But you haven't been able to tap into it, am I right?" the Guildmaster interrupted. "I guess you've been breaking a lot of things recently?"
"Yes, sir." Clay replied, slightly impressed. "How did you–"
"Not only that, but I heard you've never held a sword your entire life." the man said.
"–Yes, that's true."
He continued. "I'd love to let you in as a hunter, but the our basic requirements for hunters are for them to be able to at least control aura and have decent swordsmanship. Of course, the best would be to be able to blend both techniques together and become an aura swordsman, but those people would usually be recruited into the larger guilds."
Clay's heart sank. He thought he had a chance in becoming a hunter.
"But," the man chuckled. "I'm not as cruel as many think. I see your potential, and I see your talent. I know, by the time you start growing, you would be someone great. I don't like keeping all the talent to myself. In the future our guild might be the one holding you back, which I don't..." He paused and went into deep thought, muttering to himself. "I might have to use it..."
He looked back up. "How about this? Let me give you two choices. I want you to choose wisely."
"Two choices?"
"The first choice, is for our guild to train you on swordsmanship and aura control. Depending on how quickly you grow, you could become as strong as our late Sir Dunbar, or maybe even a little stronger than him."
Sir Dunbar, the strongest hunter in Stonetown. Clay thought. Yet, he was the first to be taken out in the Grand Hunt.
"What is the second choice?"
The Guildmaster smiled. "The second choice is for me to write a letter to recommend you to The Barracks in Edenva."
"The Barracks?"
Edenva, the Capital of the kingdom. A city so large some say that at one end of the city, golden sands stretch endlessly into a vast desert, while at the other, icy winds whip through a frozen tundra. Of course, it's an exaggeration–a fanciful tale spun by folks living in the outskirts, particularly for bumpkins like Clay.
Despite that, the city's vast size is not to be taken lightly. It stretches from the seaside and spans an entire mountain range, with an academy positioned on either side of the mountains. To the North lies The Pragon, an exclusive academy where only the Kingdom's elites–nobles, knights, even affluent merchants and landlords–can enroll. To the South sits The Barracks, an academy for common folk who aspire to become swordsmen.
It is rumoured to be a third academy, but the claim has yet to be confirmed.
Both choices were appealing. Deep down, Clay knew which choice he should make.
The first choice is for the short run, and the second is for the long run. If he went for the first option, within a month he could become a hunter and start making a living, moving into a new home. But his abilities would be just that, just mediocre.
In contrast, if he went for the second, he could explore the world beyond Stonetown, and his potential
could be infinite. However, he was uncertain how he would earn a living–at least, not yet.
"Sir, I would like to ask a few questions about it. Would that be alright with you?" he asked.
"Go on. Also, you can call me Sir Reed."
"Sir Reed, first, I would like to know how you could enroll me into The Barracks?"
Sir Reed rose from his chair and began pacing toward Clay. As he moved, something unusual about his leg caught his attention. Upon leaning in for a closer look, he realised it was a wooden peg replacing what must have once been a leg.
Reed pointed at his leg, "I lost this leg years ago to someone now working at the academy. He's a good man, and he's always felt indebted to me. I can send him a letter; I know he would definitely read it. All you need to do from here onwards is to show him what you can do, and you would be admitted into the academy."
"For my second question, I don't have any money on me. How can I survive in Edenva?"
Reed thought for a moment and replied, "I will also mention in the letter and tell him to support your living. Would that be good enough?"
"Third question. I couldn't even control my aura, nor do I have any swordsmanship. How can I be accepted?"
"Good point. I can help you out a little with that. I will teach you how to sense aura and one sword technique. How does that sound?"
"Last question. Why me? What do you see in me that is so special?"
Reed paced towards the window. "An orphan who refused to stay in an orphanage, choosing instead to carve his own path. He became an essence extractor– a perilous job for someone so young. And yet, he not only survived in the Grand Hunt where so many perished, on his own in the depths of the forest, but returned with both aura and a lively spirit." He turned to Clay, "Why wouldn't anyone see you as special?"
Clay smile widened. "I've made my decision. I will go with the second choice."
Reed laughed, nodding in approval. "Good choice, good choice indeed!" He reached for a letter on his desk, a satisfying grin on his face. "I knew you would come to the right decision. The letter has already been written! Now, shall we begin? I promised to teach you a basic sword and aura technique."
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