The kingdom of Eiren was beautiful at sunset. Golden light washed across its white stone walls, and crimson streaks painted the sky as if the heavens themselves were bleeding. Merchants shouted their final bargains, horse-drawn carriages rattled over cobblestones, and laughter echoed from taverns as citizens settled into the safety of night.
For most, it was just another evening.
For Arin Hale, it was survival.
Sweat clung to his brow as he hauled the last bundle of firewood onto the cart. His hands, raw and blistered, trembled from the strain, but he forced his tired body to keep moving. Nineteen years old, tall but wiry, with black hair falling into storm-gray eyes, Arin had the hardened look of someone who had lived two lives before even reaching adulthood.
"Brother!"
The voice was soft, cheerful, and impossibly bright against the gloom of his exhaustion.
Livia Hale, fifteen, with chestnut hair tied in a neat braid, ran toward him clutching a paper-wrapped parcel. Her smile was radiant, her eyes wide with innocent joy.
"The baker gave me this bread for half the price! He said I reminded him of his daughter."
Arin exhaled a laugh despite his aching body. "Then tonight, we feast like royalty."
She giggled, slipping her arm into his. To anyone watching, they were just another poor pair of siblings making do. But for Arin, she was his world.
Five years ago, their parents had died to an accident in the mines. Since then, Arin had done everything to keep her alive—hauling lumber, mending fences, shoveling dung, working from dawn to dusk with no rest. Every coin went to rent, food, and saving for the one dream he still clung to: sending Livia to the Royal Academy.
Not for prestige. Not for pride. But so she would never have to live as he did.
They turned into a narrow alley leading toward their modest stone hut when the earth suddenly trembled beneath their feet.
A low hum reverberated through the air. The cobbles cracked. Dust fell from the eaves of houses.
Arin froze, his heart sinking.
He knew this sensation. Everyone did.
A Gate was opening.
The ground rumbled again, louder this time. A sound like tearing cloth echoed through the alley, followed by an eerie silence that pressed against the chest like a heavy weight.
Then, above the rooftops in the distance, the sky itself cracked.
A jagged rift of violet light split open, bleeding shadows that twisted and churned like living smoke. Screams erupted from the streets as people fled toward the safety of the inner walls.
A Gate.
And from within that shimmering wound in reality, the faint roars of beasts began to seep out.
"Arin…" Livia clutched his sleeve, her voice trembling.
He pulled her close, masking his own fear. "It's far from here. The knights will handle it."
But even as he said the words, he knew the truth.
Knights did not always arrive in time. Hunters—those gifted with mana and skill—were the true defense against the horrors crawling from the Gates. And in recent years, Gates had been opening more frequently, their monsters stronger, their threats deadlier.
Arin led his sister quickly through side streets until they reached their tiny stone house. The roof leaked, the door barely held against the wind, but it was shelter. Livia lit the oil lamp while Arin placed the bread on the wooden table.
She tried to smile again, but her hands trembled.
"Brother… what if one day a Gate opens near here?"
Arin remained silent for a moment. Then he forced a grin. "Then I'll protect you. Even if it kills me."
Livia pouted, smacking his arm. "Don't say that. You're not allowed to leave me alone."
He chuckled softly, ruffling her hair. "Then I'll just make sure I don't die."
But in the pit of his stomach, dread coiled.
He was no knight. No noble-born mage. He had no swordsmanship instructor, no expensive mana elixirs. And though he wished he could shield his sister from the world's cruelty, he knew that if danger came… he would likely die before he could even stand against it.
The Awakening
Three days later, the bells of the capital tolled—not for prayer, but for summoning. Every able-bodied citizen was required to gather at the plaza.
The reason was simple: Awakenings.
It had been five years since Gates first appeared in the kingdom, and along with them came something new—people awakening strange powers when exposed to mana. They became stronger, faster, able to wield magic or weapons beyond ordinary limits. The kingdom had established a ranking system for these hunters: E through S, with S being the rarest and most powerful.
For commoners, Awakening was a chance. A chance to rise above poverty, to earn coin and food, to escape their fate. For nobles, it was another arena to dominate.
Arin stood among the crowd with Livia at his side, her small hand clutching his. His clothes were plain, patched more times than he could count. Around them, nobles stood proudly in silk and velvet, sneering at those who didn't belong.
A robed official raised his hand. "Step forward. One at a time."
One by one, citizens placed their hands upon the crystal orb at the center of the platform. The orb glowed with colors, measuring mana and rank. Murmurs spread each time a noble child achieved a high result, followed by scoffs whenever a commoner was judged weak.
Finally, Arin's turn came.
He approached the orb, heart hammering. He didn't care about glory—only about earning enough strength to provide for Livia.
The official gestured impatiently. "Hurry, boy."
Arin placed his palm against the cold surface.
The orb pulsed once. A dim flicker of light, barely visible. Then nothing more.
The official snorted. "E-rank. Barely above ordinary. Next."
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.
"Another useless commoner."
"Can't even muster a D-rank."
"He'll be monster fodder before the week's done."
Arin withdrew his hand, jaw clenched. His sister ran to him, whispering, "Brother, it doesn't matter. You're still strong to me."
He forced a smile, but shame burned in his chest.
An E-rank.
The lowest of the low.
Barely better than nothing.
Yet… he had no choice. Even as an E-rank, hunters earned more coin than any laborer. And if he wanted to send Livia to the Academy, if he wanted to treat her when she inevitably fell ill in this harsh world, he would have to risk his life inside the Gates.
Even if it killed him.
That evening, after the Awakening, Arin sat on the edge of his cot in silence. The oil lamp flickered, casting shadows across the cracked stone walls.
Livia sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching the worn blanket they shared. She peeked at him. "You're upset."
He exhaled slowly. "I just… wanted more. For us."
"You always want more for me." She smiled faintly. "But I don't need you to be strong, Brother. I just need you to come home."
Her words cut deeper than any blade. He reached out and pulled her close. "I will. No matter what happens, I'll come back."
But as he said it, he remembered the sneering faces of nobles, the laughter of the crowd, and the cold verdict: E-rank.
How long could he truly survive?
The Guild Hall
Two days later, Arin stood before the wooden doors of the Hunter's Guild. The air smelled of iron and sweat, the chatter of armed men echoing within.
Inside, burly adventurers laughed and boasted. Swords clanged against scabbards, mages in robes discussed spells. At a desk sat a middle-aged woman, sharp-eyed and businesslike.
"Name?" she asked.
"Arin Vale."
"Rank?"
"…E."
She scribbled without raising her head. "Sign here. Risk is your own. The Guild takes thirty percent of loot and cores. Fail to return, your belongings are auctioned."
Arin signed, ignoring the smirks of others.
A scarred hunter muttered loudly, "Another corpse-to-be."
His companions laughed.
Arin clenched his fists, then loosened them. No point fighting here. He needed coin, not enemies.
The guild woman handed him a wooden tag engraved with his name. "Welcome to the Hunter's Guild. A party is recruiting for an F-class Gate. They'll tolerate an E-rank."
Tolerate.
The word stung, but he nodded. "I'll take it."
First Gate
The Gate loomed at the edge of the fields outside the city. A swirling mass of violet light, its edges rippled like water. Farmers stood at a distance, watching with fear as the hunters assembled.
Arin's assigned party consisted of six others: a hotheaded swordsman, two archers, a mage, and a shieldbearer, led by a D-rank knight's son named Karel.
Karel glanced at Arin with open disdain. "You stay at the back. Don't slow us down."
Arin swallowed his pride and nodded.
The portal pulsed. Then, one by one, they stepped through.
The world twisted. For a heartbeat, there was only darkness. Then his feet struck stone.
They stood in a cavern lit by eerie blue crystals. The air was damp, reeking of sulfur. Growls echoed from the shadows.
"Form up!" Karel barked.
From the darkness, small reptilian creatures skittered forward—kobolds, hunched and snarling, their crude spears glinting.
The archers loosed arrows, felling two. The mage muttered incantations, hurling a fireball that exploded against the cavern wall. Karel charged with his blade, cutting down a kobold in a spray of blood.
Arin's hands trembled as he gripped his rusty dagger. An E-rank against monsters bred from nightmare. He forced his legs to move.
A kobold lunged at him. He ducked instinctively, slashing clumsily across its chest. The creature shrieked and collapsed, twitching.
His first kill.
But exhilaration quickly turned to horror as two more rushed him. His dagger clattered against one's spear. The other slashed his arm. Pain burned, hot and sharp.
"I said stay back!" Karel roared, cutting down the kobolds with practiced ease. "You'll only get in the way!"
Arin staggered, clutching his wound. Blood dripped down his sleeve.
The others sneered. "Told you he's useless."
"Why bring dead weight?"
Shame burned hotter than pain. But in the corner of his eye, he saw the faint outline of Livia's smile, waiting at home. That image kept him standing.
The Return
Hours later, the Gate collapsed in a burst of fading light. The hunters emerged, bloodied but alive. They carried monster cores in sacks, their faces gleaming with pride.
Arin trailed behind, his arm bandaged clumsily. His share of the loot was pitiful—barely enough to buy bread and medicine.
Yet when he returned home, Livia's eyes lit up. "You came back."
He knelt, exhausted, pressing the small pouch of coins into her hands. "Buy yourself sweets tomorrow."
Her smile made the bruises, the cuts, the humiliation almost bearable. Almost.
But as he lay on his cot that night, staring at the leaking ceiling, he whispered to the darkness:
"There has to be more. There has to be a way."
Foreshadowing
Unseen by him, a shadow moved across the corner of the room. It was faint, almost like smoke, vanishing when the lamplight flickered.
And in a place beyond time, beyond worlds, something ancient stirred.
A voice echoed softly in the void:
Soon…