The Hunters didn't rush.
They advanced in a loose formation, boots crunching softly over ash and rubble, weapons lowered—but not relaxed.
Their presence pressed down on the street like an invisible weight, colder and more disciplined than the raw aggression of the scavengers.
Aren felt it immediately.
Not hostile.
But evaluative.
[External Pressure Detected: Structured Combat Energy.]
[Warning: Exposure Quality—High.]
"Oh come on," Aren muttered under his breath. "I just survived my first fight."
The injured man beside him stiffened.
"Don't provoke them," he whispered hoarsely.
"Hunters don't kill without reason—but they don't hesitate either."
Aren swallowed and forced himself to sit upright despite the dizziness threatening to drag him under. His Stability hovered at 33%, flickering dangerously.
The Core felt… tired.
Not weakening—but strained.
The Hunters stopped ten meters away.
There were five of them.
Each wore layered armor etched with faintly glowing lines, practical rather than ornamental.
Their helmets were open-faced, revealing eyes that missed nothing.
At their center stood a woman with short silver hair and a long coat marked by a triangular insignia glowing pale blue.
Her gaze locked onto Aren instantly.
"You," she said. Her voice was calm, measured. "Stand up."
Aren blinked. "Straight to commands, huh?"
The injured man shot him a panicked look.
Aren sighed internally and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly before steadying. Pain flared—but held.
The woman watched closely.
Very closely.
"Name," she said.
"Aren," he replied after a moment.
"Aren Kael."
A subtle flicker passed through her eyes. Not recognition but interest.
"No registration," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.
"No faction markings. No resonance signature on record."
She turned her head slightly. "What do you see?"
One of the Hunters stepped forward, holding up a compact device that emitted a faint hum. Symbols scrolled across its surface.
"…Unstable," he said slowly.
"Core signature fluctuating. Multiple adaptation traces. That's not possible."
Aren felt his Core react—tightening, smoothing itself just enough to avoid spiking.
[Defensive Adaptation: Signature Dampening—Minor.]
The woman's eyes sharpened.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Aren crossed his arms, mostly to hide the trembling in his hands.
"If this is the part where you decide whether to kill me, I'd appreciate a warning."
The Hunters stiffened.
The woman studied him for several seconds, then shook her head.
"If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing."
"Well," Aren said weakly, "that's… comforting."
She stepped closer, stopping just outside arm's reach.
The pressure around her was controlled, refined—combat energy shaped by discipline rather than instinct.
"You survived scavengers without training," she said.
"You adapted mid-conflict. And you're still conscious with a Stability that low."
She tilted her head. "What are you?"
Aren met her gaze.
He considered lying.
The Core pulsed gently—not warning him away, but offering no help either.
So he chose honesty.
"I don't know," Aren said. "I woke up like this."
The woman didn't scoff.
She didn't smile either.
Instead, she nodded once.
"That," she said, "might be the most dangerous answer you could give."
She straightened and gestured to her team. "Lower your weapons."
The Hunters obeyed instantly, though their attention never left Aren.
"My name is Ilyra Voss," she said.
"You're in Sector Nine of the Shōnen Combat Fragment. This city is under Hunter jurisdiction."
Aren blinked. "You have… jurisdiction?"
"We enforce survival balance," Ilyra replied. "Scavengers disrupt it. Rogue awakeners destabilize it."
Her eyes returned to Aren. "Anomalies threaten it."
Aren shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sensing a theme here."
The injured man coughed weakly. "Captain… he saved me."
Ilyra glanced at the man for the first time. "Status?"
"Severe," one Hunter said after a quick scan. "But treatable."
She nodded. "Extract him."
Two Hunters moved in, lifting the injured man carefully. As they passed Aren, the man grabbed his sleeve weakly.
"Don't let them label you," he whispered. "Once they do… you're never free."
Then he was gone.
Aren exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he said. "So. What happens to me?"
Ilyra studied him for a long moment.
"You come with us," she said.
"That didn't sound optional."
"It isn't."
Aren grimaced. "Figures."
The Hunter outpost was built into the remains of a collapsed high-rise, reinforced with layered barriers and glowing sigils that hummed softly as Aren passed through them.
Every step felt like being scanned.
Measured and judged.
[High-Grade Observation Detected.]
[Adaptation Suppressed by External Control Fields.]
"Oh," Aren whispered. "I don't like that."
The Core quieted, forced into a passive state by the structured environment. It wasn't harmed—but it was contained.
Ilyra led him into a wide chamber filled with holographic displays and training platforms.
Other Hunters moved through the space, some armored, others visibly injured, all carrying themselves with sharp efficiency.
Aren felt very small.
"Sit," Ilyra said, gesturing to a reinforced bench.
Aren complied.
A translucent screen flickered to life in front of him.
———————————————————————————————————————
Name: Aren Kael
Status: Unregistered
Core Type: Unknown (Adaptive Anomaly)
Stability: 31%
Threat Assessment: Pending
———————————————————————————————————————
Aren winced. "That doesn't look good."
"Threat assessment isn't a death sentence," Ilyra said. "It's a measurement."
"That's… also not comforting."
She folded her arms. "Tell me everything. From the moment the Convergence began."
So Aren did.
He spoke of the frozen world, the silver circle, the overlapping realities, the pain of rejection—and the moment something inside him had answered.
He left nothing out.
By the time he finished, the room was silent.
The Hunters exchanged glances.
Ilyra's expression was unreadable.
"An Adaptive Origin Core," she said slowly. "Those were theoretical."
Aren raised an eyebrow. "So I'm a walking research paper."
"Yes," she said flatly. "And a liability."
There it was.
Aren leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"Let me guess. You either lock me up… or put a leash on me."
Ilyra didn't deny it.
"The Convergence shattered the old rules," she said.
"But that doesn't mean chaos gets to run free. Adaptive existences threaten balance because they don't stop growing."
Aren looked at her. "Neither does the world."
Something flickered in her eyes.
"You adapted faster than our projections allow," she admitted. "Which means one of two things."
"Say it."
"You die within weeks," she said. "Or you become something this fragment can't contain."
Aren smiled thinly. "i hope."
She tapped the display. "Your Stability is critically low. If it drops further, your Core could destabilize permanently."
"And?"
"And you need controlled exposure," she said. "Training. Structure. Supervision."
Aren's heart sank. "Under you?"
"Under the Hunters," Ilyra corrected.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Aren asked the question that mattered most.
"What if I say no?"
Ilyra held his gaze. "Then we detain you. For your safety—and ours."
Aren closed his eyes.
'No choice,' he thought.
The Core pulsed faintly, not resisting, not agreeing—just adapting to the reality presented.
He opened his eyes.
"…Fine," Aren said. "I'll cooperate."
Ilyra nodded once. "Good."
She turned and gestured to a nearby training platform. "We'll start with measurement."
Aren stood slowly. "Measurement of what?"
"Everything," she replied.
The platform activated.
Energy surged.
Aren felt pressure crash down on him—clean, calibrated, merciless.
His Stability dropped—29%.
The Core reacted instinctively.
[Forced Adaptation Triggered.]
Aren gritted his teeth, muscles screaming as his body struggled to adjust to the controlled onslaught.
Hunters watched intently.
Ilyra's eyes narrowed—not in fear, but in calculation.
"…He's adapting," one Hunter murmured. "Already."
Ilyra said nothing.
But deep inside, a thought took root—one she did not voice.
'If this continues…'
'The Convergence won't just change him.'
'He'll change it.'