Chapter 9: The First Strike

CREAK.

Draven pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Bastion Seven Hunter Guild.

A wall of noise and smell instantly washed over them. The massive hall was packed with Awakeners. The air smelled of cheap beer, sweat, and ozone from magic weapons.

Heavily armored men and women shouted over maps, slammed tankards on wooden tables, and haggled over monster cores.

Estella immediately stepped closer to Draven, her fingers instinctively grabbing the fabric of his dark tactical cloak. She pulled her hood down lower.

’It is so crowded,’ she thought, her heart beating rapidly against her ribs.

’They all look so scary.’

"Stay close," Draven muttered, his eyes scanning the room like a radar dish. He was analyzing exits, threat levels, and structural weaknesses out of pure habit.

They walked toward the main reception desk at the back of the hall.

Because they were both wearing heavy cloaks to hide their faces, they looked small and out of place among the towering, scarred veterans.

A bald, heavily tattooed Hunter wearing battered steel armor stepped right into their path. His two companions snickered behind him.

"Well, well. Look at this," the bald Hunter sneered, looking down at Draven.

"Did you kids get lost on the way to the playground? The Guild is for real Awakeners. Not cosplayers."

Estella shrank behind Draven. She remembered the cruel guards in the dungeon. Her breathing hitched.

Draven stopped. He did not look intimidated. He looked annoyed.

’Seriously? Can this get any more cliche?!’

"We are here to register," Draven said, his voice completely flat.

"Move out of the way."

The bald Hunter laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the surrounding tables.

"Register? You? You look like a stiff breeze would snap you in half. Let me see what is under that hood, little boy."

The man reached out with a thick, calloused hand to grab Draven’s cloak.

Draven did not even flinch. He just focused his mind on the massive kinetic energy naturally generated by the heavy Hunter’s own armor and weight.

He gathered it, reversed the vector, and applied a massive, violent burst of horizontal thrust squarely against the man’s chest.

BANG.

"AAAARGH!!"

The sound was like a cannon going off. The bald Hunter was ripped off his feet. He flew backward through the air, completely bypassing the tables.

CRASH!

He shattered right through the Guild’s thick glass window and landed in a crumpled, groaning heap in the alleyway outside.

The entire Guild Hall went dead silent.

Dozens of veteran Hunters stared at the shattered window, and then slowly turned their heads to look at the skinny teenager in the dark cloak.

Draven had not even taken his hands out of his pockets.

’What did he just do?’ Estella thought, her eyes wide with shock.

’He did not chant a spell. He did not even move his arms!’

"Let’s go," Draven told her, calmly stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

He walked up to the stunned receptionist. She was staring at him with her mouth slightly open. Draven reached into his pocket and slid two sleek, solid gold cards across the counter.

"We need access to the premium quest board," Draven said. "Immediately."

The receptionist looked at the A-Rank insignias on the cards. She swallowed hard, her attitude instantly shifting from bored to completely terrified respect.

"Y-yes, sir! Right away! Please, use the private terminal in Booth Four!"

As they walked to the private booth, Draven pulled up his system interface. If they were going into combat, he needed to know exactly what kind of firepower he was working with.

[SYSTEM STATUS: DRAVEN MORDIS]

[Title: Arsonist]

[Level: 7] 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

[Experience: 450 / 2200]

[Mana: 280 / 280 (Passive Regen Active)]

[Attributes: STR 4, AGI 11, VIT 10, INT 19, PER 12]

His mana pool had grown massively thanks to his passive skill. He was ready. He turned his eyes to Estella and activated his Tactical Appraisal skill.

[Target Identified: Estella Everdawn]

[Status: Cleansed Star Mage]

[Title: The Star of Ruin (Dormant)]

[Level: 15]

[Attributes: STR 3, AGI 8, VIT 6, INT 35, PER 15]

Draven blinked. He stared at the blue screen floating over her head.

’Level fifteen?’ Draven thought, his brow furrowing in confusion.

’She has been chained to a wall her entire life. She has never hunted a monster.’

He looked closer at the massive imbalance in her stats. Her physical attributes were absolute garbage, but her Intelligence was sitting at an absurd thirty-five.

Then, the reality clicked into place.

’The Church,’ he realized, feeling a fresh wave of disgust.

’They were artificially expanding her mana capacity. They force-fed her raw monster cores and corrupted elixirs to turn her into a battery. You cannot put an apocalyptic entity into a Level 1 vessel without it exploding. They fattened her up for the slaughter.’

It made perfect, sickening sense. The torture was the very thing that made her a walking nuke.

"Draven?" Estella asked softly, noticing his hard stare.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Draven replied, turning to the terminal screen to hide his anger.

"Everything is perfect. I found our target."

He tapped the screen, accepting a quest in the Outer Ring’s abandoned industrial sector. It was an extermination order for a pack of mutated beasts.

’It paid well, but more importantly, the area was a ghost town. No cameras. No witnesses.’

An hour later, they stepped off the rattling mag-lev train into the dark, smog-filled air of Sector Four. Towering, rusted factories loomed around them like iron skeletons.

"Listen to me," Draven said as they walked toward a massive, dark warehouse. He slipped effortlessly into his Commander persona.

"I am the Controller. You are the Artillery. My physical strength is garbage, but I can control the battlefield. I will group them up and lock them down. When I give the signal, you fire."

Estella gripped the edges of her cloak. Her hands were shaking.

"Draven... what if I mess up?" she whispered, staring at the dark warehouse entrance.

"What if the purple fire comes back? What if I accidentally hurt you?"

Draven stopped. He turned to her. He did not yell or give her a generic motivational speech. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"The purple fire is gone," he said firmly.

"You are not a cursed weapon anymore. You are Estella. I trust you to watch my back. Now, do you trust me to watch yours?"

Estella looked into his sharp, calm eyes. The panic in her chest slowly melted away, replaced by that familiar, fluttering warmth.

’He trusts me,’ she thought. ’He actually trusts me.’

She nodded, her face setting into a look of pure determination. "I trust you."

"Good. Let’s breach."

Draven kicked the rusted door open.

CREAK.

They stepped into the massive, echoing warehouse. It was pitch black, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the broken skylights.

Click. Clack.

The sound of claws on concrete echoed from the shadows.

"Above us," Draven warned, his Perception stat flaring.

Four massive, mutated hounds dropped from the steel rafters. They were the size of lions, with mangy black fur and tails that ended in jagged bone spikes.

They snarled, their red eyes locking onto Estella.

They lunged.

"Not today," Draven said coldly.

He raised his hand. He visualized the kinetic vectors of the leaping hounds. He grabbed the invisible arrows of force and violently slammed them straight down.

BOOM.

Gravity seemed to multiply by ten. The four massive hounds were instantly smashed into the concrete floor, their bones cracking under the immense, invisible pressure.

They whined, struggling to lift their heads against Draven’s telekinetic lock.

"Estella! Now!" Draven shouted.

Estella took a deep breath. She raised her hands toward the trapped monsters.

She closed her eyes and reached for the mana in her chest. She braced herself for the agonizing burn of the dark magic.

But it did not burn.

It felt like a warm, bubbling spring.

A blinding, pure white-gold light erupted from her palms. The dark warehouse was instantly illuminated as if the sun had just risen inside it.

The light gathered into a swirling sphere of starlight, humming with terrifying power.

’This is my magic,’ Estella thought, tears pricking her eyes from the sheer beauty of it.

’It is not a curse.’

FWOOSH!

She pushed her hands forward. A devastating beam of pure starlight tore across the room. It hit the hounds, instantly vaporizing them.

The beam continued, melting through the thick concrete floor and blasting a massive, glowing hole right through the back wall of the factory.

Silence fell over the warehouse, save for the crackling of molten stone.

[Ding! Mass Elimination!]

[You have reached Level 8.]

Draven lowered his hand, staring at the molten hole in the wall. He looked back at Estella.

She was staring at her own hands, panting softly, but a bright, genuine smile was breaking across her face.

’Yeah,’ Draven thought, extremely satisfied. ’Neville Hennesy is going to have a very bad time at the Academy.’