The abandoned storeroom in the city's lower districts became Kael and Elian's new sanctuary. It was damp, smelling of dust and forgotten things, but it was hidden, private, and secured. Kael had spent his initial coins on bolstering its defenses, patching cracks in the walls, reinforcing the rusted door with scavenged metal, and fitting a heavy, secure lock. Elian, six years old, explored the small space with boundless curiosity, occasionally tracing patterns on the grimy walls with the tip of his Weaver's Blade, its dark surface humming faintly with suppressed power.
For Kael, the city was a labyrinth of new rules and unfamiliar dangers. He needed to understand its currents, its hidden power structures, its underbelly. He needed to find his way, not just to survive, but to advance his singular purpose: vengeance against Carn Malach. To do that, he needed more than the raw, untamed skills of the mountain. He needed to understand the city's peculiar system, its mechanisms of power.
His focus turned to the whispers he'd heard at the city gates, and from the cautious merchants who frequented the mountain fringes: the Hunter Card. It was the city's answer to the chaos of the 9th Realm, a way to quantify strength, to bring some semblance of order to the "Merit Through Madness." It was a system that rewarded brutal competence, which Kael deeply understood.
He left Elian secured in the storeroom, a small stash of dried rations and water by his side, the multi-elemental sword resting within reach. Kael ventured out alone, moving through the labyrinthine streets like a shadow. His single eye, sharp and piercing, missed nothing. He observed. He followed figures with a swagger, with obvious displays of power, noting where they went, what they did, how they interacted. He listened to hushed conversations in dimly lit taverns, piecing together fragments of information about bounties, territories, and unspoken rules.
His instincts, honed by six years of mountain survival, led him to a district bustling with activity, yet tinged with a raw, dangerous energy. Here, the buildings were rougher, the faces harder, and the air thrummed with a restless undercurrent of violence barely contained. This was the Hunter's Quarter, the true heart of the city's lower-tier power.
He found it: a squat, heavily fortified building with thick, iron-reinforced walls and a large, rusted sign above its entrance. A crude drawing of a snarling beast, half-human, half-machine, emblazoned the sign. The Hunter's Guild. A constant stream of figures, some limping, some swaggering, moved in and out of its heavy doors.
Kael entered. The air inside was thick with the smell of sweat, stale blood, and cheap liquor. The common room was a cacophony of guttural laughs, sharp arguments, and the clatter of weapons. Figures of all races and power types crowded the space: a hulking Beastkin sharpening a monstrous, serrated axe on a grinding stone; a nimble Aspectual counting a pile of glinting coins with lightning speed; a wary Arcanian with crackling, static-charged hands arguing loudly with a holographic projection. These were the hunters of the city. The ones who risked their lives in the surrounding wilds, or in the forgotten sewers and under-districts, to bring back monster parts, to fulfill bounties, to prove their worth.
He walked to a heavy, scarred counter, scarred by countless blades and rough exchanges. It was manned by a gaunt, perpetually bored Human. The man's face was a roadmap of cynicism and exhaustion, his eyes dull. "Name," he grunted, not even looking up from a worn, greasy ledger. "Purpose. Don't waste my time."
Kael didn't speak. He reached into his thick leather pouch and pulled out a handful of glinting gold coins, placing them on the counter. "Hunter Card," he rasped, his voice rough from disuse, but firm. "And information. City. Malach."
The man, clearly surprised by the unexpected wealth from a child, quickly pocketed the coin, counting it with practiced ease. He glanced up, his eyes falling on Kael's missing eye, then his scarred face. "You're new. Not from the mountains, are you? Word travels even from there, of a silent boy who hunts beasts no one else dares touch. The Apex Frostfang, they say? You're the one." A flicker of shock, then grudging respect, crossed his face.
He pushed a small, rectangular device across the counter. It was dull, metallic, with no visible features beyond a faint, internal hum. "Hunter Card. It registers your kills. Each confirmed kill of a registered beast. Or bounty target. It feeds data to the central network. Fulfills the requirements for advancement through the tiers. Unranked to Void-Stained. It's how the city measures worth. How it pays." He tapped the device. "You'll need to report your kills for verification. Your rank will update as you earn it." As for 'Malach'... that's not Guild business. You want information, you go to the Whisper Markets, not here. This is for hunters."
Kael took the card. He felt no connection to it. No power surged within it. He flipped it over. Its surface remained blank, a dull, featureless rectangle. His single eye narrowed. He had killed the Apex Frostfang Ravager, a beast of immense power. He had faced its dual elemental fury. He had survived six years in the deadliest mountains, fighting off horrors like the Gloom-Stalker. Yet, the card was blank.
He understood. This wasn't about his deeds, his impossible survivals, or his legend among the Vikings. This was about their system. His monumental feats meant nothing here unless they were registered by their technology, verified by their network. His rank, in their eyes, was zero.
A cold, calculating resolve settled in Kael. He didn't argue. He didn't complain. He simply accepted the terms. He would play their game. He would fill their card. He would prove his worth in their system, not because he cared for their recognition, but because it was the path to greater resources, to greater information, to Carn Malach. The city was a new set of rules to master, another beast to tame.
He turned from the counter, tucking the blank card into a hidden pocket of his furs. As he moved through the crowded Guild hall, he noted the subtle shifts in the air, the way individuals carried themselves. He was surrounded by fighters, by survivors, by predators. And now, he had to prove himself all over again.
He sought out a quiet corner, observing the bounty boards that lined a cracked wall. Wanted criminals. Dangerous beasts. He saw their ranks listed: Unranked, Iron-Bloods, Silver-Fangs. Names and faces of those considered strong. He saw the payouts. The risks. His mind, honed by years of cunning survival, began to strategize. This was just another hunt. Another set of prey.
Kael left the Hunter's Guild as silently as he had entered. The city was a new challenge, a new wilderness. He had to learn its patterns. Its vulnerabilities. And then, he would begin to climb. His path towards vengeance was clear. He would not stop until the debt was paid.