Three days had passed since James's encounter with the strange man in the deserted tavern. The biting cold in Felnia had only intensified.
No new snow had fallen in the past couple of days, but the winter wind now blew with a fiercer, more cutting edge. It carried the freezing chill from the northern mountains, seeping into every part of the city. The overall atmosphere seemed heavier and quieter than usual. Even the morning clamor from the market sounded noticeably subdued.
James woke before dawn, as always. The cold air from outside slipped through the cracks of the old wooden window frame into his room, making him feel a skin-biting chill even though he was in a room on the second floor of Cranewold Bar, which should have been warmer.
He put on another, thicker layer of training clothes that Elen had provided and tied his bootlaces tight. His thoughts still lingered on the image of that man, Varena's veiled words, and the information from Frey about the abnormalities creeping into the city. But he tried to push those worries aside for now, focusing on what was right in front of him: the training that must continue for the sake of his survival.
The training yard behind the bar was whiter than ever in the pre-dawn light. The snow from previous days had been blown by the wind into thicker piles in some spots.
Ann was already waiting. Her small frame was moving, lightly warming up, dressed in a practical and slightly thicker training outfit. White vapor plumed from her lips with every exhale.
"The wind's stronger than yesterday," Ann commented as she saw James enter the yard. Her large, round eyes were alert, assessing the yard's surface. "The ground is definitely slicker. Be careful."
"I can feel it," James replied, pulling his cloak tighter. He glanced at the yard, parts of which were icy. "But that's good, I suppose. Training in these conditions should help the body adapt faster."
Even as he said it, he knew it would be another grueling day that would test his endurance to its limits.
Ann raised an eyebrow slightly, a smirk appearing at the corner of her mouth. "You seem to enjoy pushing yourself to the limit, don't you?" she observed him. "Either that, or you just don't know the meaning of giving up."
The two began their training that morning. Moving on the snowy ground, contaminated with patches of ice, presented a significant challenge. James tried to steady his footing, keeping his leg and core muscles tensed almost constantly to maintain balance. Every step was taken with caution, yet with unwavering determination.
That morning was another session that was more intense and longer than usual. Ann added new drills that focused on sudden reactions, quick changes of direction, and maintaining balance on the slippery, unstable surface.
James tried his best to keep up with Ann's movements. Even though he stumbled and fell at times, rolling on the freezing snow several times until his clothes were damp and his body began to tremble from the cold, he never once complained or showed any sign of giving up. He got up and started over each time, his eyes still full of resolve and commitment.
While the two were focused on their training, with Ann explaining the technique of weight transfer to avoid slipping, James felt a pair of eyes watching them from the slightly ajar back door of the bar.
When he glanced over, he saw the towering figure of Brack Cranewold, standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe in silence. Today, however, he stood still, his gaze fixed mostly on James. The sharp eyes under the thick brows of the old bear seemed to be examining something about him in more detail and for longer than ever before.
James tried to ignore the stare and focus on his training, but he couldn't help but feel a little nervous and tense. He didn't know what Brack was thinking.
The giant man's gaze showed no emotion. It was placid, yet it carried a certain authority that made one feel uncomfortable, as if constantly being tested.
After the intense and freezing morning training session ended, James went back inside the bar to prepare for the afternoon and evening's work.
He helped Frey prepare ingredients in the kitchen, wiped tables, and refilled ale kegs. Though his body was exhausted from training and he still felt a lingering chill, he continued to work diligently and quietly at his duties.
Until the afternoon, when the customers were still sparse. James was busy rearranging the new ale kegs in the rather cool and damp storeroom when Brack walked in silently, without a sound.
He watched James, who was struggling a bit to lift a medium-sized oak barrel that seemed a little too heavy for the young man's strength. Brack then spoke in a flat but firm voice, "That barrel. If you want to do it right, try squatting a little lower when you lift and use the strength from your legs to push up. It'll save your back a lot of strain."
James flinched slightly, startled by Brack's silent approach. He turned to look at the giant man, not expecting him to offer direct advice on work like this. "Thank you, sir."
Brack didn't say anything more, just gave a slight, reserved nod and continued to inspect the other barrels in the storeroom. But his eyes still glanced at James periodically. That gaze wasn't critical, but it seemed more to be evaluating or waiting for something from him.
Brack's silence and his stare, along with the unexpected, brief advice, created a feeling of tension mixed with curiosity in James's mind. He could sense that the atmosphere around Brack today was slightly different from usual, and that an important conversation was about to happen soon.
James's feeling was correct. The feeling of being evaluated continued throughout the afternoon, until the last group of afternoon customers had trickled out of the bar, leaving only silence and the faint sunlight streaming through the windows. Brack, who was checking his accounts behind the counter, looked up at him.
"Lad," his gruff voice broke the silence. "Come with me to the back. We need to talk."
James put down the cloth he was using to wipe a table, his heart beating a little faster. He sensed that this was the conversation he had been anticipating since he saw Brack's gaze that morning.
He nodded and followed the bar owner's towering figure into the small office at the back of the bar, which was filled with the faint smell of ink and stacks of messy documents.
Brack sank into a large wooden chair that groaned under his weight. He looked at James, who stood silently before him, his expression as unreadable as ever. He then spoke in his typically direct manner. "You've been working here for over two weeks now. Training with Ann every morning. Never shirking your duties in the bar… Tell me straight, lad. What's your real goal?"
James was silent for a moment, trying to order his thoughts. "I… I just want to get stronger."
"Get stronger?" Brack raised an eyebrow. "Get stronger for what? To get better at carrying beer kegs? Or to have the strength to run away again if something happens?" His words seemed mocking, but they were also probing.
James took a deep breath. "I need strength… to survive in this world."
"Survive?" Brack leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on James. "You fled for your life from Alvia. I understand that survival is important. But from what I see… it looks like you want something more than that. Do you think you have what it takes to be more than just a kitchen hand or a boy serving liquor in my bar?"
Brack's question was direct and piercing. James felt as if he could see right through to his deepest hidden thoughts.
"And if you're thinking about the path of a hunter… do you really understand how dangerous it is and what it costs?" Brack continued, his voice growing slightly sterner. "It's not just about having strength or knowing how to swing a sword, lad."
James looked up and met Brack's gaze directly. His eyes showed determination and seriousness, though there was still a hint of caution. He chose to answer with his true feelings, while still concealing the matter of the System and his Void-Born Apex Bloodline.
"Brack… I admit that I'm interested in the path of a hunter," he said, his voice gaining firmness. "Since I survived Alvia, I've seen the cruelty and danger of this world with my own eyes. I've realized that weakness means death. I don't want to feel helpless ever again."
He paused for a moment, looking at his own hands, which were once small and delicate but were now beginning to show muscle from work and training. "Training with Ann has made me feel my body getting stronger. And seeing you all… seeing the hunters who come here, makes me feel that this is the path that will give me a chance to protect myself and to survive in a world full of demons like this."
"I may not understand all the dangers of the hunter's path yet, but I am ready to learn and to endure," James added, his eyes shining with a resolute spark. "I don't want to be a hero or seek fame. I just want strength… enough strength to stand on my own two feet and not have to live in fear every time I hear the roar of a demon."
James's answer was filled with a sincerity and determination that came from deep within his soul. Despite the lingering fear of an uncertain future, his goal of surviving and becoming stronger was clearer than anything else.
Brack stared at James's determined face for a long moment. Silence filled the small office, with only the soft sound of the winter wind seeping through the window cracks.
The giant man let out a long breath, as if in deep thought.
"Alright…" he finally said, his voice still gruff but with a newfound seriousness. "If you want to get stronger to survive, and you think the hunter's path is the answer… there might be a way."
James looked up, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"But I'll tell you something, lad," Brack continued, leaning back in his chair. "Being a hunter isn't easy. Determination alone isn't enough. You need a ready body, a sharp mind, and most importantly… luck that's strong enough not to get yourself killed on a mission."
He paused, watching James's reaction, before continuing. "I won't promise to train you directly. But if you're serious… then prove it to me. The work in this bar is a form of training. It trains your patience, your observation, and your ability to deal with all sorts of people. As for the physical training with Ann, keep at it. Don't slack off."
Brack pulled an old leather scroll from a drawer and tossed it onto the desk in front of James. "This is a record of the common demons and dangerous beasts found around Felnia, including their weaknesses. Try reading it, if you can read, that is. It might open your eyes a bit."
James looked at the scroll with a mixture of surprise and delight. He was about to reach for it, but Brack spoke again.
"And most importantly…" he said, emphasizing his words. "The Felnia Hunter's Association will be holding its next recruitment and test for new hunters… after this winter ends."
Those words made James freeze. This was… an opportunity?
"That's the time you have," Brack continued, his eyes challenging James. "If by then you haven't given up, and you still think you're ready to walk this path filled with blood and death, then go submit an application. But remember this well… I don't support sending an unprepared kid to his death."
James took the scroll from the desk. His hand trembled slightly, not from the cold, but from the mixture of emotions flooding him. Brack's words felt like a test, a probe, and at the same time, an opportunity and a clear deadline.
The pressure crashed down on him. This long winter ahead was his preparation period, a testament to his resolve. But beneath that pressure, there was a glimmer of hope. His goal was no longer adrift; it had a clear timeframe and a path forward.
"I… I will do my best," James answered, his voice firm. The seriousness in his eyes and voice clearly reached Brack.
Brack simply gave a small nod and didn't say anything more. He looked down at the documents on his desk, a signal that the conversation was over.
James bowed slightly in respect before taking the scroll and walking out of Brack's office in silence. His mind was still echoing with the giant man's words and the image of the opportunity that awaited him after this harsh winter.
His determination to become a hunter was spurred on more intensely than ever. It was no longer a vague wish, but a goal he had to achieve. To survive, and to truly stand on his own in this dangerous new world.
That night, though the cold wind howled outside, inside James's heart, a flame of hope and determination blazed brighter than ever before.