The office hit him like a punch. Everything screamed money—gold-trimmed walls, a huge window showing off Arclight's skyline, a carpet so soft he felt bad stepping on it with his dirty boots. Shelves lined with books and weird glowing trophies watched him as he shuffled in.
Behind a massive desk sat the Guildmaster. A woman. Petite, smaller than he'd expected, but beautiful—maybe even more than Juna. Her hair was jet-black, cut short and sharp, framing a face that could've been carved from marble.
Her eyes, bright green, locked onto him, and he froze. She wore a sleek outfit—dark red, tailored perfect, with gold stitching that matched the room. Expensive didn't even cover it.
"Fin Carver," she said, voice calm but firm. "Sit."
He nodded fast, dropping into the chair across from her. It was too big, too cushy, and he felt like a kid playing pretend.
'Don't screw this up, Fin. Don't screw this up.'
The Guildmaster leaned back in her chair, those sharp green eyes studying him like he was a puzzle she hadn't figured out yet. "How are you feeling, Fin?" she asked, her voice smooth and steady.
Fin shifted in the chair, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "Uh, good, I guess? Like, not dead, so that's a win, right?" He tried a grin, hoping to lighten the mood.
Her face didn't move. No smile, no frown—just a blank stare that made him feel like an idiot. His grin dropped fast, and he cleared his throat, looking at his boots.
'Tough crowd.'
She didn't comment on his dumb joke.
Instead, she reached for a paper on her desk, sliding it toward her with one delicate finger. "Let's talk about the dungeon warp," she said, eyes flicking down to the report.
"The Hunters who went in after you found something interesting. Your injuries—severe, nearly fatal—weren't from a Rank 2 monster. Not even close."
Fin swallowed, his throat dry. "Yeah, uh, it was… big. Really big."
She nodded, reading the paper like it was a casual grocery list. "They found the corpse. Black, oily skin. Twisted limbs. A mouth full of jagged teeth. Sound familiar?"
He nodded fast. "That's it. That's the thing that—" He stopped, the memory of its grin flashing in his head. "Yeah. That's it."
"It was a Rank 4 monster," she said, her tone still calm, like she was talking about the weather. "A Shadow croc. Rare, even for a warp. Fast. Strong. Lethal."
Fin's stomach flipped.
'Rank 4?'
He barely survived a wolf before this. How was he still breathing? He stared at her, trying to process it, and that's when it hit him—her vibe. The way she sat there, small but steady, her voice never wavering. This woman wasn't just some fancy boss. She was strong. Scary strong. Like, "snap him in half with one finger" strong. He felt it in his bones, a quiet chill creeping up his spine.
She kept talking, flipping the paper over. "The team you were with didn't make it. The Shadow croc tore through them in seconds, according to the scene. Yet you—you fought it. Killed it. Alone."
"I, uh, didn't really plan that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just… happened. Used my power and got lucky."
"Lucky," she repeated, her eyes narrowing just a bit. "Luck doesn't kill a Rank 4 monster and leave its core intact."
He blinked. "Intact?"
"Yes," she said. "Empty, drained—your doing, I assume—but still usable. Valuable, even like that." She set the paper down, folding her hands on the desk. "The investigators were impressed. So am I."
He didn't know what to say. 'Impressed? Her?' His brain was still stuck on "Rank 4" and "not dead." He just nodded, feeling dumb again.
She went quiet for a moment, watching him. The silence stretched, heavy, and he squirmed under her gaze. Then she spoke.
"The reward for the Hollow Caves run was set at 50 thousand credits for the group," she said. "Since you're the only one left, it's yours. All of it."
His jaw dropped a little. "50 thousand? For me?"
"That's not all," she added, like it was nothing. "Killing a Rank 4 monster comes with a bonus. Fifty thousand credits. And leaving the core intact? Another forty thousand."
Fin's head spun. He tried to do the math, but the numbers blurred together. "Wait, wait—hold on. That's… that's a 140,000 credits?"
"Yes," she said, calm as ever. "140,000 credits. Your money will be delivered by the end of the day."
He stared at her, mouth open. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his vision went fuzzy at the edges. A 140,000? He'd never even dreamed of that much money. In the slums, fifty credits got you a meal if you haggled.
This… this was insane. He could buy a house. Food. Gear. Hell, he could bathe in soap if he wanted.
"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"I—uh—" He gripped the chair arms, feeling lightheaded. "Yeah. Just… wow. That's… a lot."
She almost smiled—almost. "Don't faint on my carpet. It's expensive."
He laughed, shaky and loud, then clamped his mouth shut. "Right. Yeah. No fainting. Got it."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping a little. "You've caught attention, Fin Carver. Not just mine. That money is a start. What you do with it—and what you do next—matters."
He nodded, still reeling. 'A 140,000 credits. Holy crap.'
He barely heard her last words, too busy trying not to pass out from shock.
She leaned back in her fancy chair, folding her hands again. "So," she said, voice smooth, "what's your plan now?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… plan?"
"Yes," she said, tilting her head a little. "You've got money. You've got a story. People are talking about you now. What's your next move?"
He scratched the back of his neck, feeling dumb. "I… don't know. Never had this much cash before. Thought I'd just, uh, not die tomorrow and figure it out later."
Her lips twitched, like she almost smiled but didn't want to commit. "Fair. But you're a Hunter now. Barely, sure, but you've got potential. That Shadow croc? Most F-ranks wouldn't have walked away. You did."
He shifted in the seat, not sure what to say. "Yeah, well, I got lucky. And mad... mostly mad."
"Luck's part of it," she said. "But anger? That's fuel. You just need to learn how to use it right."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
She tapped her desk with one finger, slow and deliberate. "There's a program. Annual Hunter Training. Starts next month. It's for newbies like you. I want you in it."
His eyebrows shot up. "Training? Like, school?"
"Sort of," she said. "It's tough. Teaches you how to fight, how to think, how to not die stupidly. You've got raw stuff—your Absorption thing, that grit. But raw doesn't cut it long-term. You need skills."
He leaned forward a bit, interested despite himself. "And you think I can do it?"
"I think you could," she said, eyes narrowing. "If you stop stumbling around like an idiot. I've seen Hunters with less than you climb high. S-ranks. Even higher. You've got a shot, but only if you work for it."
His chest tightened. S-rank? Him? The idea was wild—too big to wrap his head around. "You're serious? Me, a top Hunter?"
"Why not?" she said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "You've already done what most can't. Killed a Rank 4 as an F-rank? That's not normal. I don't waste time on normal."
He stared at her, trying to figure out if she was messing with him. She didn't blink, didn't flinch—just sat there, calm and sure. For the first time, he let himself imagine it. Not just scraping by, but being someone.
A real Hunter.
Not a slum rat anymore.
"Okay," he said finally, voice quiet but firm. "I'll do it. The training thing."
"Good," she said, nodding once. "It's settled then. Next month, you're in. Don't embarrass me."
He grinned, couldn't help it. "Wouldn't dream of it."
She didn't smile back, just picked up her pen like she was done with the warm fuzzies. "Now, practical stuff. That 140,000 credits—it's yours, but it won't last if you're dumb with it."
"Dumb how?" he asked, leaning back.
"Sleeping in alleys, eating garbage, running around with a broken dagger," she said, voice dry. "You need a bank account. Today. Go set one up. Then use that money. Get a house and gear. Real gear. Not that rubbish you are wearing."
He nodded slow, the list piling up in his head. "Bank account. House. Gear. Got it."
"And don't flash the cash around," she added, sharp. "People see a kid like you with that much, they'll rob you blind. Or worse."
"Yeah," he said, grimacing. "Learned that the hard way already."
"Then don't learn it again," she said, pointing her pen at him. "You're not in the slums anymore. Act like it."
He sat up straighter, feeling the weight of her words. "Right. I'll figure it out."
"See that you do," she said, then waved a hand. "Go. I've got work. Juna's outside—she'll point you to a bank. Don't screw this up."
He stood, legs a little shaky but steady enough. "Thanks. Uh, for the money. And the chance."
She didn't look up from her papers. "Earn it."
He turned and headed for the door, heart pounding. This was a shot at being more than a nobody. He sure as hell was not going to waste it.
Juna was waiting when he stepped out, leaning against the wall with that easy smile. "Well?" she said, pushing off. "How'd it go, sweetie?"
He grinned, still buzzing. "Got a fat paycheck. And a job to not suck at."
She laughed, soft and warm. "Good for you. Now I just have to get you to a bank. Can't have you wandering off and getting lost."