I was finally accepted as a Beast Hunter. I had been training for years, and let’s not even talk about the written, practical tests or the insults I had to put up with my teachers at the academy. Three years in that sea of horrors and I was finally ready to save the world. Well, there were certain dangers but as my dad used to say, hunting monsters was more fun than having good health. I knew I would become one of the top10 Hunters in this part of the continent and, in my head, I could already hear people chanting my name. All I had to do was go to the Hunter’s main building - wait until I got my Hunter App and get a few cold coins. They were going to be useful for buying a new weapon, and maybe cool items.
The worst part was getting a group. Truth be told, I had never been much of a teamwork player, but if there was one thing the academy taught me is that not all monsters can be defeated without help.
"EVERYONE TO THE RIGHT! THIS ROAD IS PROHIBITED. THE HUNTERS ARE SOLVING THE PROBLEM" a policeman in black uniform and a golden badge shouted, signaling people to drive to the closest street.
A mixture of red and orange flashed before my eyes. The explosions were getting bigger and I could even see a huge dinosaur, green scalps, and a metal arm, firing a Hunter through the air. It was hard to follow all the movements when there were people behind me honking constantly while others turned over to the second street and speeded up until the tires smoked. It wouldn't be the first time that a hunter's fight would take on epic proportions, and ended up unraveling amidst buildings, tearing them down and injuring people. Especially when they were rookies fighting. They had a habit of thinking they were better than they really were, and I knew I wouldn’t make that mistake. Suddenly, an iron sound dragging through the floor crept in, leaving everyone's ears humming. One of the most prolific hunters of the decade had climbed on his electric skateboard and jumped over the police barrier.
I wasn’t a big fan of him, much less his red spiky hair. He thought he was better than all of us. I still remembered when in an interview, after destroying a level 9 monster, he challenged any Hunter to overcome him in combat. He was one of the few who always fought alone and despite the help he gave the police, they avoided having to contact him. He was a 27-year-old man whose father had trained him to be a Hunter since he was born, but in his head was still a teenager. He had never developed. Still, he didn’t lack money, women and fame. Everything that I desired. I could see him withdrawing his semi-automatic gun, the sun beating down on it, dazzling me and those close to me.
"I'M ALREADY LATE!" a man in his 40's, two cars behind me, screamed.
He was right. Arriving late was not a good first start. The line advanced and I drove away while looking at the battle happening a few meters away from me.
The sound of the glass shattering in the distance made me company all the way – it fell on the ground and someone stepped on it. That would most likely lead to another anti careless Hunters demonstration. It had been happening a lot lately. People have had enough of the carefree attitudes and were starting to turn on us.
I hadn’t set foot in the capital in a while. The frantic people, the soles of their shoes echoing as they hit the ground, and the constant colorful digital billboards advertising Hunters’ news – one informing of Foxel’s latest victory, the red-haired boy, while the other announced that there were less than 24 hours left before a new batch of long-range weapons were put on sale. The minimum cost of one was 2500 Hunter Points. Nice, I had zero.
I needed to hurry up, get the Hunter app and kill some monsters to get points, which could also be used as real money. No wonder the population saw us as outsiders instead of vigilantes in plain sight.
The streets were almost empty at the time. Most people parked the cars in the general parking lot and went to have lunch. Unlike them, I drove for a few more minutes until I saw the big yellow-brown building that rose in splendor above most of the others, being nicknamed the city’s biggest attraction.
I didn’t even leave the car. I was loving the hotdogs scent that danced through the air coming to me from the walking ban down the street. The building had five huge floors, each of one was the base of the Hunters of that level. The red doors were never closed for more than a few seconds. There were people coming and going all the time – they ignored and avoided touching each other.
Despite the three years I had spent in the academy, since I was 18 until now, the distance between Hunters who didn’t belong in the same group still confused me. Maybe because of my uprising – full house every weekend and all the neighbors sharing funny stories during the barbecue. Even today the chop smell takes me to that tender age where everything seemed simple. But, anyway, I was already wasting too much time. After closing my car’s door, I moved on to the building’s gate. My heart was beating more than I would ever admit to anyone. Even my ears were going deaf and my knees trembled like sticks in an open field where the wind spun mercilessly. It was the second time I had entered there. The yellow walls and the newly painted black ceiling contrasted with the white marble floor. A large room where several groups talked to each other and, in the background, there were two escalator rollers. Before them, there was a desk where a girl with red hair up to her shoulders, green eyes shining under the light that brightened them, scratched her rosy cheeks.
She pointed out the names of all those who passed by and their ranks. No one dared to disrespect her. Instead, everyone said good morning to her, even the most badly regarded. I walked to the line and waited until my turn came. I cleared my throat before I spoke to her. I explained my situation to her, told her my name, and asked her where I had to go. She never took her eyes from me, numbed by my words, shaking her head slightly to the right while I poured everything out.
"You need to go down those stairs. Second door on the left.” She said. A soft, embellished and almost therapeutic voice, "Welcome to the Hunters Headquarters, James!" She added, this time ending with a smile.
The scent of jasmine rose through my nostrils. My body calmed down - my hairs dropped, my feet settled on the ground and all my nerves disappeared in seconds.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Thank you. I’m making sure I don't get lost around here." I answered her, trying to keep the conversation going even though I knew there were at least 10 people behind me in line.
"If you get lost, just come back here. I'll help you," she said and leaned over to me, the cleavage not being enough to hide the boobs that landed on the table.
I admit I was embarrassed to the point where my cheeks turned pink. I thanked her for her help, and she smiled once more, this time putting some loose strands of her hair behind her ear.
I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the unknown. I wasn’t the best student at the academy, but I excelled at using long-range weapons – the teachers used to say I had a lynx’s eye. I went down the stairs, the white steps too small for my feet, and then I walked down the empty corridor. The light flashed in the room whose white floor contrasted with the high black ceiling. A lady in her 40’s, wide-hips and sloping shoulders, was on the back of the room, tidying up some dusty pages between reams of paper. She didn’t hear me coming in. She was humming a pop song, the kind you could hear on the radio every morning at 8 am and used her free hand to drum with her fingers in her brown pants – they looked like they were about to burst.
I cleared my mouth until I got her attention. She turned to me and took her index finger to her thin lips. Still thoughtful, the soles of her shoes reverberated through the metal pipes that surrounded the large room. She smiled unabashedly, showing her yellow teeth and wrinkles twitching on the protruding line that went from her stuffy nose to her brown eyes, iris hidden behind her bushy eyebrows and eyelashes curved upwards. She leaned over the table and asked me how she could help me.
She drunk with her fingers around the marble desk. She seemed to be looking for the right words until the sputum scratched the walls of her throat. She apologized, removed a white handkerchief from her pocket and passed it across her thin lips, putting it back in her pocket, this time in the upper corner of her red sweater.
“Hello, my dear. You’re from the new batch of Hunters, right? I assume you’re here because you want your Hunter APP. I hope you know how careful you must be out there. A lot of people came here in search of money and fame and come back with less than they had.” She said, frowning and scratching her left nostril.
“Yes, I am. After three years there I know damn well when I should be careful, but what do you mean by they return with less? Less money?” I asked, intrigued by the mystery that the woman carried with her.
“Money is not everything, young man. They come back with grief on their minds – repentance consumes some. Others, happier or not, depending on how you see life, come back without body parts. Not forgetting those who don’t even come back. It’s not as easy as it looks out there.” She answered, her fresh cinnamon scent filling the room.
“I’ll be careful,” I answered, omitting how anxious I was. How I felt my toes curling as an electric charge run down my spine.
“Your choice. I just need to know what your type is. I’d say you’re not a huge fan of short-range fighting. Maybe a shooter?”
“You have an eye for this sort of thing, don’t you?” I replied, trying hard not to laugh, “You’re right. I’m a shooter.”
“Mmhhmmm.” She mumbled, “I have a few options here that I think you’ll appreciate. Long or short range?” She asked, the wheels in her head turning as she thought about the different types.
“Short. Do you have something with a huge impact power but light enough to handle?” I asked her, reminding myself of the hard training I went through.
“Of course, boy. We have everything. I’ll pick up something.” She replied.
She smiled at me and turned around. Her fat, greasy fingers ran through the metal of the bookshelves as she walked. My heart was beating like 1000 men marching towards victory and apogee. She grabbed a few boxes, searched them, closing, and repeating the same accuracy of movements in others, and despite her big hips, she didn’t seem to have any difficulty in bending or kneeling.
After a few seconds, she opened one of the boxes that were in a corner, looked at me, smiled and picked it up.
She placed it on the table carefully and that was when I noticed the little yellow symbol in the left corner saying “fragile”. The blue and orange colors peered through a tiny opening. My toes curled up and my arm hair raised. She took an x-act from a drawer under the desk and opened the box until the smell spread across the room – a metallic, warm fragrance. I inhaled it, taking a deep breath, still incredulous with the three options that stood in front of me.
A pistol with two pipes, one black, and one orange, with a black handle and the rest dark blue. It wasn’t heavy but not as light as I was looking for. I ignored the second option – a three-arrow bow. My knowledge about bows was zero. I’d used them a few times at the academy, but the arrows had a habit of ending up on top of a tree, forcing someone far more skilled to get them with sharp, precise shots.
The third option seemed to be the most appropriate – similar to the first, but orange strokes under both gray pipes and had an appropriate weight. I was able to maneuver it with ease and even did some tricks with it. I moved my fingers between the handle, throwing the gun in the air, recovering it and turning it.
The woman looked at me, her eyes following the glint, the orange obscuring the grayness.
“I see you’ve already decided.” She said, putting the rest of the weapons away.
“I think so. For a beginner like me, this is great.” I answered her, putting the gun on the table, “I’m excited.”
“They always are, boy. You can have the gun now. Just sign here.” She said and bowed again.
From another drawer, she took a tablet and asked for my fingerprint and a signature using a small rubber-tipped pencil. I followed her directions. I pressed the base of my index finger against the plate until the color changed and a laser analyzed the whole palm of my hand, scanning it and running my prints through the system. Letters began to appear, slowly, joining until they formed sentences, pointing out information about me.
James Crusher
Rank: E
Experience points: 0/150 to the next Rank
Money: 250 hunter points
Weapon: Orange Pistol
“Turn around now.” She ordered me.
She raked through something in an already open drawer and used her free hand to divert the hair whirlpool on the back of my head. I was going to ask her what she was doing when I felt a needle penetrating my skin, going deep, pouring something into my blood. I blinked my eyes - the colors around me surfed the walls and a sharp pain seized the left side of my head.
"I know it hurts, but it's normal. It'll only take a few seconds." She said while removing the needle from my skin. When she removed the needle, my elastic skin also receded, leaving the area all reddish, as she showed me in a mirror that she was carrying in her pocket.
"It's done. You're ready to get out of here and fight the monsters that you want, level up and perhaps reach the top. Now you can see all the information about your colleagues. As you are still in rank E, you can only go up to the first floor, where it is the common space of your rank, and you can come down here, to me, to buy weapons and equipment. Any questions?"
"I don't think so. Thank you very much! You'll see that in a short time I'll be climbing the ranking, reaching the top, and you'll be surprised, Miss...? I still don't know your name."
"You can call me Grace." She answered and smiled one last time before sighing and turning her back, dragging her suede shoes across the floor.