The afternoon sun hung low over Korvan Village as Seren returned through the western gate, her armor dusted with soot, lance resting across her shoulder. Her expression was calm but tired—the look of someone used to walking home from battle alone.
Inside the longhouse, Chief Maerin looked up from her desk, a smile forming beneath lines carved by years and ash. "Back already?"
Seren nodded and knelt beside the table. "The ridge wyvern's nest has been cleared. The farmlands are safe again. No villagers injured."
Maerin leaned back in her chair. "And the payment?"
Seren shook her head. "Told them to keep it for rebuilding. They've lost enough."
Maerin exhaled softly, both proud and worried. "You're going to go broke saving everyone, girl."
"I'd rather that than see another home burn," Seren said simply.
Before Maerin could respond, the doors opened. Hunnt, Kael, and Alder stepped inside, dust clinging to their boots after the long escort from Emberfall.
"Hunnt, Kael, Alder," Maerin said with a warm grin. "Perfect timing. I was just speaking of Korvan's best."
Kael's eyes fell on the lance-wielder. "So this is the one you mentioned?"
Maerin nodded. "Seren. She's everything the Guild used to stand for—before the Four N's corrupted it."
Seren turned toward the newcomers, studying each briefly. Hunnt inclined his head politely; Alder offered a quiet nod. Kael, however, smiled—that knowing, testing kind of smile that weighed a person's spirit.
"Seren," Maerin said, "this is Kael. Old friend, hunter, and… something else now. He's part of a group that works outside Guild law—hunters who fight where others won't."
Kael stepped forward. "We call ourselves the Eternal Wanderer. No coin, no fame, no orders—only will. Maerin believes you might share that same flame."
Seren frowned slightly. "You're saying you fight for nothing?"
Kael chuckled. "Not nothing. For everyone else."
She crossed her arms. "That's a dangerous kind of belief."
He grinned. "Exactly why I'm here. I want to see what yours is made of."
Maerin sighed knowingly. "You're testing her again, aren't you?"
Seren tilted her head. "A test, then? Fine. Name the hunt."
Kael turned to Hunnt and Alder. "Leave this one to me. I'll see what she's worth."
Hunnt smirked. "Don't hold back too much."
Kael waved him off and motioned to Seren. "Come on, Lance Girl. Let's see if you protect more than your pride."
---
The Canyon Hunt
The wind cut sharp through the canyons west of Korvan. Kael walked light, bowgun slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the ridges. Seren followed close, her shield strapped and lance tip glinting.
Their prey appeared at dusk—a tusked wyvern nesting among broken rock, its hide caked in soot. It roared when they approached, scattering ash and gravel.
Kael didn't move. He simply watched.
Seren advanced, lowering her stance, shield angled to deflect. When the beast lunged, she met it head-on, steel scraping hide. Sparks burst. She pivoted, struck, rolled aside—but never far from Kael's flank.
The wyvern swept its tail; she caught the blow, knees driving into the dirt to anchor the shield. Kael noted her footwork: solid, disciplined, precise. But then her head snapped toward the side—a cry echoed through the canyon.
Down a slope, a miner lay trapped beneath fallen rock.
Kael saw it: the hesitation—the choice.
"Finish the fight!" he shouted, testing her.
Seren turned her back to the monster and sprinted downhill. The wyvern roared, chasing her, but she slid to the miner's side, bracing the shield above both as debris rained. She used her lance as a lever, prying the stones away until the man could crawl free.
"Run!" she ordered, shoving him toward the safe path. The wyvern's claw smashed into her shield, flinging her back across the rocks. Her shoulder split blood, but she rose again, steadying her breath.
Kael fired suppressive shots to draw its attention. Seren didn't retreat—she charged, slamming the lance into its exposed jaw.
When it staggered, she didn't strike to kill. She planted the weapon, using it to brace the miner's escape route as the creature thrashed and collapsed in exhaustion.
When silence fell, Kael approached through the settling dust. Seren stood panting, her armor cracked, one arm trembling.
"You could've taken the kill," Kael said.
Seren shook her head, wincing. "Kills don't keep villages safe. People do."
Kael smiled faintly. "Good answer."
He turned his gaze to the crimson horizon. "First test… passed."
---
Hunnt and Alder – The Training Fields
While Kael and Seren tested will and resolve, Hunnt and Alder trained east of Korvan in the lowlands, where volcanic soil turned dark beneath the sun.
"Again," Hunnt ordered.
Alder sprinted, vanished for a heartbeat, then stumbled—his Soru flickered short. Hunnt caught his shoulder before he hit the ground.
"You're rushing the step," Hunnt said. "It's not about speed. It's about intent. Move first in the mind, then the body follows."
Alder wiped sweat from his brow. "Feels like my legs can't catch up to my thoughts."
"Then slow the thought," Hunnt replied. "You control Soru, not the other way around."
They tried again. This time Alder's movements blurred cleanly across the dirt.
"Better," Hunnt said. "Now Tekkai."
Alder braced, crossing his arms as Hunnt struck him square in the chest. The impact echoed. Alder skidded back but held firm, breath ragged.
"Don't stiffen!" Hunnt barked. "Iron doesn't mean rigid. It means unyielding. Let the strike flow through you."
They repeated the motion until Alder's stance no longer broke. By dusk, his body trembled, bruised but balanced.
"Geppo next," Hunnt said, stepping back. "Channel that same momentum into the air."
Alder crouched, stomped upward—and promptly flipped mid-jump, crashing onto his back.
Hunnt sighed, shaking his head. "You're stomping like a hammer, not stepping like wind. You don't force the sky—you trust it."
"Easy for you to say," Alder groaned.
Hunnt smirked. "It wasn't when I learned. Again."
By twilight, Alder managed three clean air-steps before collapsing. Hunnt offered a small nod of approval. "You'll get it. It's not power you lack—it's patience."
Alder grinned through the ache. "You're a terrible teacher."
"Only to stubborn students," Hunnt replied, eyes softening.
---
The Tremor
Their laughter faded when the ground rumbled beneath them. A deep, heavy tremor rippled through the plains. The birds took flight. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Hunnt's expression changed instantly—calm replaced by focus. He closed his eyes, extending his Observation Haki outward. The world blurred into soundless rhythm.
Then he felt it—something vast, ancient, pulsing below the crust. Heat. Breath. Life.
Hunnt opened his eyes slowly. "...It's still sleeping."
Alder's hand went to his sword. "What is?"
"Vulcarion Basal," Hunnt said quietly.
Alder's jaw tightened. "That's not just a story?"
Hunnt shook his head. "No. And if we wake it, Emberfall will look like a campfire in comparison."
The tremor eased, but the earth stayed warm beneath their boots.
Hunnt exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. "We don't disturb it. Not yet. Let it rest."
He looked toward the horizon where smoke drifted faintly from the mountains. "The fire beneath us still breathes. Let's not remind it of the surface."
They turned back toward Korvan, silent as the ash-winds rose.