The afternoon sun bled softly across the marble courtyard outside the Hunter Academy. The trial grounds behind them were still echoing with faint cheers and the mechanical hum of the gates closing.
Barnacle leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his new aqua marker gleaming faintly on his collar. "Only seventeen of us made it through," he said with a smirk, exhaustion and pride mixing in his tone. "Guess we're the lucky few."
Avilio adjusted his cloak, the faint blue hue of his own marker catching the light. "Yeah. Luck," he replied, glancing at the holographic board on the wall that displayed the list of qualifiers. His eyes paused briefly at a familiar name. Korren.
"He passed too," Avilio muttered.
Viera, standing beside them, brushed the dust from her gloves. "That guy? Guess fortune really does favor the reckless." She gave a small smile, then bowed slightly. "Anyway, it was good fighting alongside you two. Maybe we'll cross paths again."
"Yeah," Barnacle said, waving lazily. "Take care, Specialist Viera." She turned and walked down the stone steps, vanishing into the evening crowd.
Barnacle looked at Avilio again. "Hey, my party's waiting nearby. We're grabbing food at a place. You should join us. Drinks are on me."
Avilio shook his head. "Maybe next time. I've got some people to find."
Barnacle raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Suit yourself. Don't vanish before I get to spar with you again, alright?"
"I'll try," Avilio said with a faint grin.
Barnacle gave a two-finger salute and walked off, disappearing into the street. For a while, Avilio stood still, the voices and laughter of other hunters fading into the hum of the city. He checked the nearby lanes, scanning for familiar faces, Tora's energetic stride, Liam's quiet indifference but none of them were there.
He exhaled and turned to leave. That's when his communicator flickered to life on his wrist.
Incoming message – Tora
"Got a table at The Silent Rooster. Come quick, before Liam eats everything."
A small smile tugged at Avilio's lips. "Okay," he whispered and began walking toward the restaurant, the blue glow of his new marker glinting under the fading sun.
The restaurant was warm and alive — the clatter of utensils, laughter rolling through the air, and the faint scent of roasted meat drifting from the kitchen. Compared to the frostbitten streets outside, it felt like stepping into another world.
Avilio pushed open the door, brushing off the snow from his shoulders. His eyes scanned the tables until he spotted them. Tora was waving his hand enthusiastically, mouth full of food.
"Oi! Over here!" he called, nearly spilling his soup.
Liam sat across from him, half-slouched in his seat, lazily chewing on a piece of bread. He looked up as Avilio approached. "Finally," he said, "I thought you'd gotten lost again."
Avilio took a seat beside them. "You two didn't wait long, I hope?"
Tora grinned. "Of course not! You can't keep Liam from food this long, even if you promise him treasure."
Avilio smiled faintly, his eyes drifting around the restaurant — and then stopping.
At a corner table, seven figures sat together. Their dark coats bore the same silver insignia: Inner Demons.
He immediately recognized two of them. Naash, the calm, sharp-eyed leader whose presence seemed to silence the noise around him, and beside him, Barnacle, laughing heartily over a mug of ale.
Barnacle noticed Avilio almost instantly. Their eyes met, and a broad grin spread across Barnacle's face. He raised his mug slightly — a silent toast — and turned to whisper something to Naash.
Naash followed his gaze. For a brief second, his eyes locked with Avilio's. There was no smile, just acknowledgement, the kind that said I remember you.
Tora leaned in toward Avilio. "Looks like you've got fans, huh?"
Avilio raised a brow. "Just met them here. That Barnacle guy seems quite your fan," said Tora.
Across the room, Barnacle chuckled and clinked glasses with Naash before gesturing subtly towards them. Tora gave an awkward wave in return, clearly unsure if this was friendly or not.
The air felt heavier now, not hostile, but charged. Avilio could sense the curiosity in Naash's eyes even from across the room. The kind of gaze that didn't just see someone but measured them.
Naash stood first, setting his mug down with a calm clink. The rest of the Inner Demons rose almost in unison, quiet, disciplined, the kind of poise that only seasoned hunters carried.
Barnacle waved toward Avilio's table. "Oi, Naash! Come here."
Naash nodded once, then began walking toward them. The chatter in the restaurant dimmed just slightly not out of fear, but respect. Wherever the Inner Demons went, the air tended to shift.
As he reached their table, Naash's expression softened just a touch. "Avilio," he said, voice smooth but firm. "I heard from Barnacle about your help during the trial. My thanks, he was really struggling with the maze trial."
Avilio nodded slightly. "It was a fair team effort."
Naash gave a faint smile, then glanced toward Tora. "You have some good company, Tora."
Barnacle chuckled. "Yeah, they're quite the trio. Reminds me of how we started out."
Naash turned back to Avilio and gestured toward the hunters standing behind him — six in total, each distinct in build and presence. "Last time I forgot but today let me introduce my team," he said, his tone carrying a weight that instantly drew attention.
He placed a hand lightly on the shoulder of the first hunter to his right.
ChatGPT said:
"This is our archer, Zico," Naash began, resting a steady hand on the young man's shoulder. Zico gave a brief nod confident but not arrogant, his bow slung casually across his back, the faint gleam of a green marker visible at his collar.
Naash's hand moved toward the two figures standing side by side. "That's Shifa," he said, gesturing to the sharp-eyed girl with twin daggers strapped to her thighs. Her posture was fluid, coiled like a spring. "And beside her is Jonas, our mage."
Jonas adjusted his cloak slightly, his aqua marker catching the light as a faint hum of mana danced around his fingertips. Both of them carried the calm air of professionals, specialists who'd seen more than a few hunts.
Then Naash crouched down slightly and placed a hand on the shoulder of a boy half-hidden behind him. "And you've already met our assassin, Erwin."
Avilio's eyes lingered on the gray marker pinned to the boy's chest. Still a newbie. Finally, Naash gestured to the last person, a young woman standing a little apart from the others, her hands clasped in front of her. "And this," he said, his tone softening, "is Kara. She's our newest member, a healer."
Kara smiled politely, bowing her head slightly. The faint shimmer of a gray marker hung from her belt a beginner's light in a group of seasoned hunters.
Naash looked back at Avilio, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So, that's the Inner Demons for now."
Then the Inner Demons gathered their things and began to leave. Naash gave a polite nod toward Tora and Avilio before pushing open the door.
As they stepped out, Tora leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and a grin spreading across his face. "Wow," he said, letting out a low whistle. "Naash has already become an expert. That's impressive."
Liam, who had barely spoken during the introductions, gave a small shrug, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "One expert and three specialists. Not bad at all."
Avilio didn't respond. He was still staring toward the door Naash had just walked through, lost in thought. And then it happened in an instant. As Naash was pushing the restaurant door open, a man dressed in a crisp black suit brushed past him roughly. The impact was light but deliberate. The man muttered a quick, "Sorry," without meeting anyone's eyes, then slipped inside.
He walked with the poise of someone who didn't belong there too composed, too quiet. His shoes made almost no sound on the wooden floor as he made his way toward the counter. Avilio's gaze followed him instinctively. There was something… off. Something about the way he moved.
The man in the black suit quietly took a seat at a small table near the corner just beside the window. He set down a folded black coat, ordered nothing, and simply sat there and took out a notebook and started writing something. His presence drew a faint unease through the air like a sudden chill that no one could quite explain.
Tora leaned slightly toward Avilio. "You seeing this guy?" he whispered.
Avilio gave a short nod, eyes still fixed on the stranger. "Yeah. Doesn't look like he's here for dinner."
Minutes passed in heavy silence, the buzz of the restaurant dulled to murmurs. Then the door swung open again this time revealing two police officers in standard city uniform. They scanned the room once, exchanged a look, and then walked straight toward the man in the black suit.
"Sir," one of them said firmly, hand resting on his belt. "We've received multiple reports that you've been wandering the town asking strange questions. Mind telling us what that's about?"
The man looked up slowly. His smile was faint, polite, but unsettlingly calm. "Officers," he said, voice smooth and even. "Let's not make a scene here. Why don't we talk outside?"
The two exchanged a wary glance. Then, after a short pause, one nodded. "Alright. Let's keep it civil."
The man stood up, adjusted his coat, and walked toward the door with an unhurried grace. The two officers followed closely behind. Every pair of eyes in the restaurant turned to the window as the door closed behind them. The clinking of cutlery stopped. Even the waiter froze mid-step. No one said a word.
Outside, under the dim glow of the streetlights, the air was still only the faint hum of the night breeze that broke the silence. The two officers stood facing the man in the black suit.
"Sir, we just need to verify your identity," one of them said carefully, though his tone carried a hint of unease.
The man didn't argue. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a small black card sleek, metal-edged, with an insignia that shimmered faintly under the light. He handed it over.
The senior officer took it, glanced at it and froze. His partner leaned in, eyes widening the moment he saw the emblem. "That... that can't be"
The man's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "It's authentic," he said. "Would you like to confirm?"
The officer's hand trembled as he looked up at the man's face and that was when it hit him. The smooth hair, the calm silver eyes, that faint scar below his left ear recognition crashed in like a wave.
The other officer staggered back a step, color draining from his face. "Sir, we.. we're so sorry. We didn't…"
The man raised a hand, silencing them. "It's fine," he said softly. "You're just doing your job."
He took the card back, slipped it neatly into his coat, and started walking down the narrow street each step echoing faintly in the quiet night. The officers stood rooted in place, watching him disappear around the corner.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then the younger one whispered, "That was him… wasn't it? Newton."
The senior officer swallowed hard. "Yeah. Page of the High Table… 'The Disciple.'"
He looked back toward the restaurant, still pale. "But how… how did no one recognize him? He's one of the most famous men alive. Every magazine, every feed—"
The younger one shook his head slowly. "I don't know. It's like… our eyes just refused to see him until he wanted us to."
Both stood there in uneasy silence, the echo of the man's calm voice lingering in the air as one of the top four members of the High table, "The Disciple" vanished down a new road, his shadow blending into the city's sleepless night.