Training was exhausting, painful, and deeply uncomfortable. I had expected that.
But what I hadn't expected was to fear it so much.
Shouldn't this have been a good thing? My whole life had been hardship—hunger, weakness, suffering! A new kind of pain should have felt like a change for the better. But without Linn and Rowan pushing me, I wouldn't have lasted a day. Giving up was too easy. My body, still thin and weak from years of malnutrition, struggled under the strain. And my mind? Unprepared entirely. All I wanted to do was curl up and return to hunger. In many ways, starvation was simpler.
I kept insisting I didn't want others to go hungry for my sake—but it happened anyway, and I couldn't refuse it. I suppose this is another flaw in my nature. But… I was eating meat! Actual meat ! Not much, but real food nonetheless! It was expensive, requiring vitamantic treatment to ensure safety. I still couldn't believe I was allowed to eat it—it felt wasteful. I was still small, still fragile. Years of malnutrition might never reverse. Yet week by week, my meals improved. Portions grew larger, richer. Rowan must have taken on more debt to afford this. I knew it—and hated it. I didn't deserve this. The food tasted amazing, yet every bite carried guilt.
"Talent takes many forms, kid," Linn said. "If you can push through this, if you can grow stronger, it'll all be worth it. Just stick with the plan."
I couldn't argue—not without making myself feel worse.
Still, how could I not feel weaker after training? I knew it helped—I trusted Linn and Rowan—but to me, it only meant pain. Push-ups, sit-ups, jogging—every part of me ached. Still, I looked less like a walking skeleton now. Sometimes, when no one was watching, I poked at my arms and chest, feeling the first hints of muscle beneath skin. Rowan told me I finally had enough food to support growth, and my soul's power was helping strengthen my body. He said soul and flesh supported each other—one weak, the other compensated. I asked if that worked for undead creatures too. He gave me a long look and said he didn't know.
Though my meals improved, I found myself craving something else—something darker.
Soul meals.
Mostly mice souls, thanks to Rowan paying the kids to catch live ones for me. Occasionally, I received a bucket full of squirming rodents, letting me indulge in my strange, delicious feast. I put on gloves, reached into the bucket, and pulled out handfuls of tiny souls like a queen plucking grapes—devouring them with quiet delight. Mice souls were small, but varied. Some were brighter, some dimmer. Some warm, some cold. Each different in color, texture, presence. Unlike human souls, yet unique in their own way. I studied them endlessly.
I had to repay this kindness. Now, I had to.
The physical training was grueling, but the other parts were far more interesting.
I finally learned long-range soul perception. That moment—when I first sensed Rowan's soul from across the room—I nearly shouted in joy. The range expanded steadily. One room. Then the whole Shack. Then an entire street. Life flooded into my senses—colors, sounds, flavors, textures. None of these things actually existed in the souls themselves, but they were the only way I could understand them. This sense felt newborn—like hearing for the first time, touching for the first time, seeing for the first time. An ocean of lives surged into my awareness, shimmering like bees in flight—each distinct, each beautiful. Eventually, the expansion slowed… but the reach was already vast.
Surprisingly, Rowan was more helpful than Linn when understanding soul perception. She focused on combat—taking forever to find techniques that suited me. Finally, I settled on a spear made from wood and chitin, somehow "acquired" by Linn. She made me promise daily drills. I did them. But… I wasn't very good.
Months passed under this new routine. At last, the day came for the next, harder, deadlier step.
Today.
I wore fresh armor—stiff and smelly—and held my spear. Enough skill to pass as a recruit. No hint of necromancy. Just keep moving forward. I had to do this. I had to.
The Hunter's Guild building looked ordinary from the outside—no need for flashy signs. If you wanted to leave the city, you needed a Hunter. Otherwise, you relied on rogue mercenary bands—an unreliable alternative. The Guild had a decent reputation. Sure, most hunters died eventually, but survival odds were better here. Inside, just tables, a reception desk, and a bored clerk. The real strength lay behind the door at her back.
Behind that door, powerful souls stirred.
"Uh… I have an appointment today." I stood straighter, trying to sound confident as I addressed the woman behind the counter. The desk nearly reached my neck!
"Hm." She didn't bother looking up. "Name?"
"Vita, ma'am."
"No 'Fitamum' on the list, child."
I blinked.
"No, uh, it's Vita."
"Ahh, right. Sit. Remus will see you shortly."
I paced instead, nerves keeping me from stillness. Once, this would've been wasted energy. Now, I had reserves. Might as well train endurance while waiting—
The door creaked open. A scarred old man stepped out.
"I see you've already worn yourself out before fighting any monsters," he muttered. "Great."
He was strong. Very strong. One of the strongest I'd ever felt. His soul was rigid, cold—like touching stone in the night. Larger than Linn's. His left face bore severe burn scars, leaving him with half a functional expression. His silver hair marked his age, but his body remained taut with muscle beneath scaled armor I'd never seen up close before.
"How old are you? Twelve?" He grunted.
"I'm… sixteen, sir." I stammered, standing tall.
"Of course you are." He eyed me critically. "Come in."
I frowned slightly at his tone but followed him through the door, down a corridor, into a wide enclosed courtyard. Gods, his soul was intense. No, don't think about consuming it.
"Time for your interview," he droned. "First question, kid: What makes you think being a hunter isn't just a suicide club for idiots?"
That was direct. I hesitated, unsure how to answer—but thinking twice probably wouldn't help. Thank the gods, I had a response ready.
"People die, sir." I told him. "Inside or outside the walls. Of old age, murder, or stupidity. I'll die someday regardless. I just want to make sure I spend that time doing something I can be proud of."
He snorted.
"You call slicing through blood and guts something to be proud of?"
"Not always, sir. But I may have to kill to survive. I'd rather it be monsters."
He studied me longer, frowning. Damn, that was more honesty than intended. Maybe too much? Thankfully, he moved on.
"Have you ever left the city, kid? Seen a monster?"
Well, I didn't have a mirror, so…
"No, sir. Born and raised inside, sir. I know I lack experience."
"Of course you do, useless brat. What if a twenty-ton lizard decides to snack on you?"
I blinked.
"Uh… I guess I'd run toward something slower than me, sir."
He stared.
"And leave your team to die?"
"If I had a team, and wasn't dragging them down, I'd try my best, sir. But if we're facing something beyond our ability—which a squad with me likely wouldn't be sent to fight—we'd need to distract it and retreat, right?"
He didn't react, just kept staring.
"Next question. Why would a team want you? What do you bring to the Guild?"
Oh gods. The critical question.
"I have natural scouting talent, sir. I can sense life from great distances."
His expression sharpened.
"Oh? How far?"
"About two hundred meters, sir."
"Hm… better than most. Accuracy?"
"Very high. Obstacles don't affect it."
One eyebrow lifted.
"How many people in this building?"
"Uh…"
I began counting furiously, whispering numbers to myself. Who knew arithmetic was part of the test?
"…Thirty-two. And, uh, twenty-four non-humans. Not including cats, rats, insects. If I counted those, I'd be at this all day, sir."
He considered this, then nodded slowly.
"... Anything else?"
What, more ? I was banking on perception alone! Panic hit, and the first thing in my head escaped my mouth.
"I could be a mascot, sir. I'm small."
He stared.
Then kicked me in the stomach.
I collapsed onto the dirt.
"Next time, just say 'nothing'." He muttered. "Now for the combat test."
I coughed, spitting bile.
"I figured."
"Monsters won't care for your jokes, kid. Stand up. Try to hit me."
I clenched my teeth, drawing the spear from my back, assuming the stance Linn taught me. He stood there, arrogant and unbothered—because he could be. He was leagues ahead of me.
I advanced carefully, using Linn's trick—feinting at his gut, then angling toward his leg mid-strike. He dodged effortlessly, landing a punch to my face. I barely stayed upright.
"Not bad," he said as my eye swelled shut. "Feints work on smaller beasts. But against something that doesn't care? Don't waste time. Again."
I attacked again, feinting the same move before lunging at his torso. He evaded once more, kicking me in the chest—right between my nipples, which had been sore lately for reasons I couldn't place. I bit back a cry.
Again. And again. Each strike met with brutal counters.
"Again." That word became my curse.
Damn it, I truly hated this man. But I fought on. What choice did I have? I needed this. Needed the Guild. Besides, I'd endured worse beatings.
An hour passed. Two. I fell again and again. Gasping, bruised, bleeding—but still rising. Still trying. Never landing a single blow. Time blurred until he kicked my stomach, sending me into darkness. I struggled to breathe, tried to stand—but failed. I had to rise. Had to—
He approached, stamped a boot on my chest, and shoved me back down. Pain lanced through me.
"Your endurance is lacking. Combat-wise, you're a rookie." He stated flatly.
I punched his leg. He kicked my face. Stars burst in my vision. I imagined ripping his soul free.
"Your form is passable, but you have no实战经验. You're a terrible fighter."
I gripped his boot, glaring.
Just wait until I consume your soul—
He kicked me away. I flew, rolling across the grass, broken and bloodied.
"If you want to get beaten worse than this every day, consider yourself hired."
Then he turned and walked off.
Damn. Damn it. I needed this. I had no other path.
"When… should I come back tomorrow, sir?"
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. For the first time, the half of his face that could move seemed to twitch—just slightly.
"For now, don't leave."
I tried nodding—but pain overwhelmed me. Darkness took me.
And in my dreams, I held his soul in my hands.