The next morning hit Fin like a slap to the face. His room was quiet, the bed softer than anything he'd ever slept on, but his stomach still twisted with nerves. He sat on the edge of the mattress, boots dangling just above the floor, and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Alright, Fin," he muttered to himself. "Day one of not screwing this up."
His mind drifted back to Meg. The way she'd shoved that crumpled stack of cash into his hands back in the slums. "You've got a shot," she'd said, her voice sharp but warm. "Don't waste it."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "Yeah, Meg. Working on it. Promise." He could still smell the rot of the slums, feel the weight of her trust. No way he was letting her down—not after everything.
Standing up, he grabbed his vest and the dagger. The blade still had that sad, chipped edge, but it'd gotten him through the wolf fight. "You and me, buddy," he said, slipping it into his belt. "Let's not die today."
He checked himself in the tiny mirror by the door. Same scruffy hair, same sharp jaw, same "I'm trying" vibe. "Good enough," he grumbled, then headed out.
---
The Hunter Guild was buzzing when he got there. Dawn barely cracked the sky, but the lobby was packed—Hunters everywhere, some chatting, some sharpening weapons, some just looking grumpy over their coffee.
Fin squeezed through the crowd, dodging a guy with a sword twice his size and a lady yelling about a missing payment.
"Busy day," he mumbled, nearly tripping. "Guess everyone wants to kill something."
"Fin!" Mara's voice sliced through the noise like a knife.
He flinched, spinning around. She stood by her office door, arms crossed, looking like she'd been up for hours. Her bun was tight as ever, and her glasses glinted like they were ready to judge him.
"Uh, morning?" he said, jogging over.
"Inside," she snapped, turning and marching into her office. He followed, shutting the door behind him.
She didn't sit, just grabbed something off her desk and held it out. A small, shiny card, silver with his name stamped on it: Fin Carver, F-Rank Hunter.
"Your license," she said, voice flat. "Official now. Don't lose it, or I'll dock your pay to replace it."
He took it, grinning despite himself. "Hey, look at that. I'm real now."
"Barely," she said, not even blinking. "Team's waiting. Let's go."
She brushed past him, and he scrambled to keep up, shoving the license into his pocket. "Wait, already? I thought—"
"No time for thinking," she cut him off, leading him through the lobby. "You're late enough."
They stopped near the back of the Guild, where a group of four Hunters stood by a stack of bags and gear. Fin sized them up quick—three guys, one girl, all older than him, all looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.
"Team," Mara said, gesturing at them. "This is Fin. Your porter."
The tallest guy—broad shoulders, buzzed hair, a scar across his nose—glared at Fin like he'd just spat in his drink. "This kid? Seriously?"
"Great," the girl muttered. She had short black hair and a bow slung over her shoulder—not Lila's style, though. Meaner vibe. "Another dead weight."
Fin forced a grin. "Uh, hi? Happy to help."
"Help?" Buzzcut snorted. "You look like you'd trip over a rock and cry about it."
The second guy—skinny, with a patchy beard and a staff—laughed. "Yeah, what's your power, kid? Falling down good?"
"Absorption," Fin said, keeping his tone light. "I take strength from stuff I touch. Pretty handy."
"Handy if you don't die first," the third guy grumbled. Big, bald, with a hammer resting on his shoulder. "Last porter we had ran off screaming. You better not."
Mara raised a hand, cutting them off. "Enough. He's your porter. Deal with it. Hollow Caves, Rank 2. Get it done." She turned to Fin, voice low. "Don't embarrass me."
Then she was gone, heels clicking back toward her office.
Fin stood there, awkward, as the team sized him up. Buzzcut stepped closer, towering over him. "Listen, kid. You carry the bags, you stay quiet, and you don't touch anything unless we say so. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, nodding fast. "Bags, quiet, no touching. Easy."
Patchy Beard smirked. "He says that now. Wait 'til the crawlers show up."
Bow Girl rolled her eyes. "Let's just go. Sooner we're done, sooner we ditch him."
Hammer Guy grabbed a bag and shoved it into Fin's chest, hard enough to make him stumble. "Move it, porter."
He caught the bag, grunting. "Friendly bunch," he muttered under his breath, slinging it over his shoulder. It was heavy—food, ropes, some weird tools—but he'd hauled worse in the slums.
**Chapter 16**
They left and Fin followed behind them closely. Buzzcut led them to a beat-up truck parked nearby. It looked like it had survived at least three monster attacks and one angry divorce.
"Get in," he grunted, yanking the driver's door open. "And don't touch anything."
Fin climbed into the back with the others, wedged between Patchy Beard (who reeked of cheap beer) and Hammer Guy (who took up approximately the space of two normal humans). snapped when he asked—sat shotgun, already sharpening her arrows with a look that said, "I will stab you if you breathe wrong."
The truck rumbled to life, coughing like an old man with a lung condition, and they lurched forward. Fin gripped the edge of the seat as they bounced over potholes, his teeth rattling.
"Nice ride," he said, grinning. "You steal it from a junkyard?"
Buzzcut's eye twitched in the rearview mirror. "One more word, and I'm throwing you out."
Fin mimed zipping his lips.
---
The drive took hours. The city faded behind them, replaced by rolling hills and patches of forest. Fin had never been this far out before. In the slums, "travel" meant running from one alley to the next. Now, the open sky stretched forever, and the air didn't stink of garbage.
'Weird.'
Finally, buzzcut pulled over near a rocky outcrop. "We're here."
Fin hopped out, stretching his legs. "Where's 'here'? Looks like a bunch of rocks."
Bow girl shoved past him, muttering, "Idiot."
Buzzcut pointed. "There."
Fin squinted. At first, he saw nothing. Then—a shimmer. A distortion in the air, like heat rising off pavement. As he stepped closer, the shimmer solidified into a swirling portal of blue light, humming softly.
The dungeon.
His stomach dropped. The thing was alive. Not in a "hello, let's be friends" way, but in a "I will eat your soul" way. The light pulsed, beckoning.
"Uh," Fin said, voice cracking. "That's… ominous."
Patchy Beard clapped him on the back—hard. "First time seeing one, kid? Don't piss yourself."
Fin swallowed. "Nah. Just… admiring the decor."
Buzzcut grabbed his pack and tossed it at Fin. "Porter. Carry, we need to move."
Fin caught it, grunting under the weight. "Yeah, yeah. I'm moving."
One by one, they stepped through the portal. Fin hesitated, staring into the blue abyss.
'Well. Here goes nothing.'
He took a deep breath and stepped in.
---
The world twisted. For a second, Fin felt like he'd been turned inside out, then stuffed back together wrong. His stomach revolted.
Then—solid ground. Cold air. Darkness.
He blinked, adjusting. They stood in a cavern, the walls jagged and glistening with moisture. The only light came from glowing moss clinging to the rocks, casting eerie green shadows.
"Welcome to the Hollow Caves," bow girl said dryly. "Try not to die."
Buzzcut unsheathed his sword. "Stay close. And quiet."
Fin nodded, gripping the straps of his pack. 'Right. Quiet. Easy.'