The smoke over Vaelstorm still hadn't cleared.
It hung low in the air, drifting between the ruined streets, heavy with the scent of salt, ash, and blood.
The battle was over — the city was quiet — but the silence felt wrong.
Too still. Too hollow.
Hunters were scattered through the streets, torches in hand, searching through rubble and shadows for any signs of life.
Every few minutes, a voice would echo through the ruins.
"Found one! He's breathing — someone get a medic!"
Or sometimes, quieter — "This one's gone…"
The Guildmaster stood near what remained of the harbor, watching the sea churn softly under the moonlight.
When a group of exhausted hunters approached, he turned, his face grim.
"What's the report?" he asked.
One hunter stepped forward, armor cracked and covered in soot. "We've cleared most of the city, sir. Some survivors — but it's bad. Too many were caught near the port when the wave hit."
The Guildmaster's jaw tightened. "And the monsters?"
"Most of the lesser ones are dead. A few stragglers, maybe, but we're sweeping every sector."
The Guildmaster nodded slowly, rubbing his forehead. "Good. Keep going. No one rests until the city is safe."
The hunter hesitated. "Sir… there's something else. Some of the survivors we pulled from the rubble—"
He swallowed. "They weren't easy to recognize. Some were… half gone. Others, drowned where they hid."
The Guildmaster didn't speak for a long moment.
Then, he simply said, "Write it down. Every name. Every loss. The Guild will remember them."
He turned toward the cracked remains of the guildhall. "I'll send reports to the branch offices. Vaelstorm needs provisions, reinforcements, and healers. If we're lucky, we'll have them by week's end."
The hunter nodded and ran off into the darkness.
---
Elsewhere, at the southern edge of the city, Hunnt and the twins stood among the ruins of what had once been a modest wooden house. The front wall had collapsed inward, and the roof was nothing more than broken planks and ash.
It had been their grandmother's home.
Willa knelt among the debris, her fingers trembling as she lifted a half-burned picture frame. Tears welled in her eyes as she brushed the soot from the glass.
Will said nothing. He moved through the wreckage quietly, searching for anything — a trinket, a scrap of memory, anything that hadn't been taken by fire or water.
Hunnt watched them from the doorway, arms folded.
The sound of distant waves and cracking wood filled the silence.
After a while, he spoke softly. "It's getting dark. We should go back to the guildhall. We can return tomorrow morning."
The twins didn't argue.
Willa set the frame down gently, wiping her face. Will gave one last look at the ruins, then nodded. Together, they followed Hunnt through the quiet streets, lit only by flickering lanterns and the dim orange glow of still-smoldering wreckage.
---
When they reached the guildhall, every hunter they passed stopped what they were doing.
Some smiled faintly. Others clapped a hand on Hunnt's shoulder or gave quick nods of thanks.
A few shouted from across the room.
"That's the man who rallied us!"
"Yeah — without him, we'd all be dead!"
"He gave us a reason to fight!"
Hunnt gave a small nod in return, saying nothing.
The guildhall was battered but alive — the hunters moving with purpose again, helping the wounded, clearing debris, making room for evacuees. For the first time since the invasion began, there was order.
The Guildmaster, standing near the stairs, noticed the three of them as they entered. His gaze lingered on the twins — their faces smudged with dirt and grief.
He sighed. "Their home?"
Hunnt nodded. "Destroyed. Completely."
The old man's shoulders dropped slightly. "I see."
He looked toward Willa, who stood quietly beside her brother.
Before he could say anything more, a voice called from one of the tables.
"Hey — that's her! The girl who took down that big one!"
Willa blinked, startled.
Another hunter stood up, grinning through bruised lips. "I saw her! Took that beast head-on when everyone else was backing off!"
"Yeah!" someone else shouted. "She fought like a damn veteran!"
"Thanks, girl! You saved our flank!"
Willa's eyes widened, then softened into a faint smile. For the first time since the battle ended, she felt something other than loss. Gratitude — and pride — flooded through her chest.
Will looked at his sister, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's my sister," he muttered under his breath, almost teasing, but proud all the same.
The Guildmaster watched the exchange quietly. For a brief moment, the hall felt alive again — laughter and relief mingling with exhaustion. Then he turned to Hunnt and spoke in a low tone.
"Hunter. Come with me."
Hunnt followed without hesitation.
---
The Guildmaster's office was half-ruined — one wall cracked, papers scattered everywhere, and the smell of damp wood heavy in the air.
The old man motioned for Hunnt to sit. The chair creaked under the weight of dust and time.
He leaned forward, resting both arms on the desk. "Who are you, really?"
Hunnt met his gaze calmly. "I'm a drifter. Nothing more."
The Guildmaster studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he nodded. "A drifter, huh. Figures. You move and fight like someone the Guild couldn't teach if they tried."
He sat back, sighing. "It's probably better that you don't tell anyone who you really are. There are hunters here who'd report you in a heartbeat if they thought you were guildless."
Hunnt gave a quiet nod. "I know. I'll keep my head down."
"Good."
The Guildmaster paused, then said, "Tell me about the Leviathan."
Hunnt folded his arms, his tone steady. "Thalazur can control lesser monsters at will. It doesn't just command them — it dominates them. When I fought it, I could tell it was intelligent, aware. It spoke in a way the others can't."
The old man frowned. "You're saying it… talks?"
"Not like us. But it understands. It leads. And it's still alive."
Hunnt's voice hardened. "I didn't kill it. It fled back into the deep after summoning more monsters. If it comes back, it won't attack blindly — it'll attack with purpose."
The Guildmaster stared down at the desk, his fingers drumming slowly. "A monster that can control others…"
He shook his head. "If you'd told me that yesterday, I wouldn't have believed you. But after today…"
He looked back up at Hunnt. "I believe you now."
He exhaled heavily. "Thank you — for everything you did. You saved this city and half my men. Without you, we'd be holding a memorial instead of a meeting."
Hunnt stood, tightening the straps on his gauntlets. "I didn't do it for thanks."
"I know." The Guildmaster gave a faint, knowing smile. "Drifters never do."
He leaned back in his chair, weary but thoughtful. "What will you do now? If you're really a drifter, you won't stay here long."
Hunnt looked out the cracked window toward the moonlit sea. "I was planning to travel to another continent. Take a boat out and start over somewhere quiet."
He paused. "But with that Leviathan still alive, it's better if I stay off the water for a while."
The Guildmaster nodded in agreement. "Smart. Monsters like that — ones with intelligence — they remember faces. If it senses you again, it'll come for you."
Hunnt smirked faintly. "Then I'll be ready."
The old man chuckled. "You sound just like one of the legends. A man who walks where the Guild doesn't, helping where others fall short."
Hunnt shrugged. "Just a drifter."
He turned toward the door. The Guildmaster called after him, voice quiet but sincere.
"Then, Drifter — thank you for saving Vaelstorm."
Hunnt gave a small nod, the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips. "Keep your people safe, old man. The sea's not done with you yet."
He left the room, the door closing softly behind him.