The hulking green Smiler hit the ground with a trembling crash, twitching once before going still. Silence spread like smoke. Only the crackle of scorched grass and Kyron's uneven breathing filled the air.
His hands were still wrapped tightly around the hilt of the katana, knuckles white, arms trembling. Blood—green and red—dripped from the blade, leaving soft thuds on the dirt below. Kyron stared blankly ahead, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts.
What... just happened?
His body moved before he could think. Instinct? Desperation? Rage? Whatever it was—it worked.
Across the clearing, the other two Hunters stood quietly. The boy, tall and silent with wary eyes. The girl, fierce and graceful, blade glowing with a faint pink sheen. Both stared at Kyron.
She was the first to speak.
"…Okay," Riya said, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
Kyron blinked, unsure what to say. "I… I don't know."
Riya walked toward him, katana casually slung over her shoulder. Her sharp expression carried more curiosity than accusation now.
"That move," she said, pointing at the still-smoking Smiler. "That slash you pulled off—do you even know what you did?"
Kyron opened his mouth, then closed it. "…No. I just… swung."
"What rank are you?" she asked, stepping a little closer. "You've gotta be at least Intermediate, right? Maybe working under one of the Elites?"
Kyron stared at her, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."
There was a pause.
"…Sorry, what?" she asked again, frowning.
"I've never fought a Smiler before today," Kyron said quietly. "I've never even held a katana until now."
Another pause—longer this time.
"…HUHHHHHHHH?!" Riya almost fell over. "You mean to tell me this was your first time holding a sword—and you just sliced through a Grade-B Smiler like a hot knife through butter?!"
Arnav finally stepped forward, his voice low but direct. "You're not lying?"
Kyron met his gaze. Hollow, honest. "No. I—I didn't know what else to do. They killed my parents. I just… picked up the sword."
Riya's playful scolding quieted instantly. Her eyes dropped to the ground.
"Oh," she whispered. "I didn't know."
Kyron gave a small nod, eyes glassy again. "It happened this morning. I was supposed to go to college—AIIMS. I came home and… they were just gone. Gone."
The weight of that word hung in the air. Gone.
He clenched his jaw, knuckles tightening on the hilt. His hands were shaking again, not from fear—but from what was left of everything boiling beneath the surface.
"You fought like a beast," Arnav said quietly. "Raw, but strong. You were using an Emotion Technique, even if you didn't realize it."
"Anger," Riya added, softly now. "Burning hot. It was pouring off you."
Kyron's eyes dropped to the katana, still glowing faintly with a golden hue. "This belonged to my family. I never knew why we kept it. Now I do."
The three of them stood there, the wind brushing through broken branches and bloodstained grass.
After a while, Riya spoke up again. "Well… we haven't even introduced ourselves properly, have we?"
"I'm Riya," she said, straightening up. "I use the Emotion of Love. It's stronger than you think. And the grumpy guy over there is Arnav—he uses Fear."
Kyron gave a weak smile. "Nice to meet you both. I'm… Kyron."
"Well, Kyron," Arnav said, "where do you go from here?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I need answers. About Smilers. About emotions. About why they took everything from me."
Riya looked him up and down, then shared a glance with Arnav. "You're coming with us."
Kyron raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You clearly have potential. And you clearly don't have a clue what you're doing," she said with a half-smile. "We're not letting a powerful rookie with trauma wander around untrained. You'll be dead in a week—or worse."
Arnav nodded. "We're under Elite Hunter Rank 7—Ayush Sharma. You'll meet him soon. He's… unique."
Kyron hesitated, then gave a nod. "Alright. I'll come."
As they turned to leave the battlefield, Kyron looked back once.
The Smiler's twisted face was still frozen in its eerie grin. But this time, Kyron didn't look away in fear. He tightened his grip on the katana.
The walk to the base felt like stepping into another world.
Hidden deep in the mountains, surrounded by tall pines and a thin veil of mist, stood a mansion straight out of a different era. Curved rooftops, paper lanterns swaying gently, carved dragon statues guarding the entrance — it was like something from an ancient samurai tale.
Kyron slowed as they approached, eyes wide. "This place is… huge."
Riya smiled. "Welcome to the estate of Elite Hunter Number Seven."
Inside, the air was cool and quiet. Wooden floors creaked under their steps. Soft light streamed through paper walls. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a bamboo water fountain echoed rhythmically — tonk... tonk…
They led him to a wide open hall, and at the center stood a young man — tall, toned, and completely at ease as he casually flipped a wooden katana in one hand, yawning like he'd just woken from a nap.
Ayush Sharma. Elite Hunter #7.
Wearing a black sleeveless gi with a deep red scarf, tousled hair tied loosely back, and that unmistakable "I-could-kill-you-but-I'm-bored" energy. His amber eyes locked onto Kyron the moment they stepped in.
"Yo, Riya," Ayush said, not bothering to stop spinning the sword. "Back already? I thought you were hunting that green freak."
"We did," Riya replied, excitement in her voice. "And we found someone else too."
Ayush raised a brow. "What, another Smiler?"
"No. A boy. His name's Kyron."
She glanced at Kyron, then continued, "He cut that beast down. With no training. First time using a sword."
Ayush stopped spinning the blade. His smile faded, just slightly. He walked over with lazy steps and looked Kyron up and down like someone inspecting a cracked iPhone with a samurai app installed.
"…You serious?" he asked, voice calm but curious. "First fight. First sword. And you sliced through a Grade-B Beast Smiler like it was a loaf of bread?"
Kyron shifted awkwardly. "I—I don't know how. I just… got mad, and everything felt clear for a moment."
Riya stepped in. "He used the Anger Emotion. No technique, no breathing control — just raw power."
Ayush raised his hands and made an exaggerated mind-blown gesture. "Yo, what kind of main character nonsense is this?"
Kyron blinked. "Huh?"
Ayush laughed. "You're telling me some kid with zero training just strolled into a death match and won? Bro. Either you've got some serious natural talent, or the universe just really likes making my job harder."
He walked around Kyron, still grinning. "Alright, I'll bite. You want to be a Hunter?"
Kyron hesitated, but then nodded. "I want answers. About the Smilers. About everything. I need to understand why they… took my parents."
Ayush's playful grin softened for just a second.
Then he clapped his hands once. "Cool. Then you've got two options. One: cry about it. Two: train like hell, pass the entrance exams, and earn your answers with blood and sweat."
Kyron stood a little taller. "I choose two."
"Atta boy," Ayush said, tossing him a spare red scarf. "I use the Anger Emotion too. My style's called Blazing Bird. Fast, aggressive, unpredictable. Think fire and feathers. Beautiful chaos."
He turned toward the door and stretched.
"If you're serious, you'll need to survive the entrance exams. No do-overs. Once you enter the exam forest, it's all on you. You die? That's it. We put your name on a wooden tag and hang it with the others."
Kyron looked down at the scarf in his hands, then up again, his eyes burning with quiet resolve.
"I'm not afraid."
Ayush smirked. "Spoken like someone who should be. But I like your guts."
Riya chuckled from behind. "Told you he's something else."
"Alright, kid," Ayush said, cracking his neck. "Let's see if that raw talent's got a backbone."
He stepped out into the snowy evening light.
"Come with me. I'm taking you to the Frozen Forest. That's where I trained. It's where anger learns patience… or dies trying."
Kyron followed him out the door, snowflakes beginning to drift from the sky.
And for the first time in days, he felt like he was walking toward something — not running from it.