The meeting room within the Emperion Hunter Academy's First-Year Division building held a tense stillness, broken only by the quiet hum of the ceiling lights and the occasional rustle of paper. The long oval table in the center was surrounded by instructors and homeroom teachers of the first-year batch. The air was thick with anticipation.
At the head of the table sat a man who radiated authority despite his weathered appearance. His black hair was streaked with gray, the years clearly catching up with him. A full mustache and an untrimmed beard framed his jawline, giving him the air of a man too burdened with responsibility to care much for grooming. His brown-striped suit fit neatly, paired with a black tie and a crisp blue shirt beneath. Tucked in his left chest pocket was a folded blue handkerchief, sitting just beneath the shining badge of the Emperion Hunter Academy. At the base of the emblem were the bold, golden words: First-Year Division.
This man was Head Instructor Magnus Rourke, a name spoken with respect and sometimes fear within the academy walls.
He leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the table. His deep baritone voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"What's the report on the dimension hunt for this year's first-years?"
A woman seated midway down the table stood up. She wore a sharp black suit, her round glasses perched perfectly on her nose. Her long, dark hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. She held a tablet in her left hand and began reading.
"Sir, the designated dimension for this year's hunt is Cagmiel, same as the previous two years. All 340 students have been instructed to form five-man squads. Preparations are underway. Hunt simulations are now online to reduce potential casualties. The weapons hall is bustling—students are actively buying and renting gear."
Magnus gave a small nod. "So… things are proceeding well, then?"
"Basically," she began, "but—"
Before she could continue, a man at the far end of the table stood up abruptly, cutting her off. He wore a blue shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black trousers, his glasses slightly askew as though he had rushed to the meeting. His expression was tight with concern. He was none other than Mr Derek Kieran's homeroom teacher.
"Sir, there's a student without abilities among the 340," he said, voice laced with urgency.
"That was the oddity I was about to bring up, sir," the woman added, frowning slightly.
Magnus waved his hand lazily. "So what? Why are you all making a fuss over one kid with no ability?"
Derek stepped forward, tone insistent. "Because, sir, Cagmiel may be a controlled dimension, but it still houses real beasts. Without an ability, that student's chances of survival are slim. He could get injured… or worse."
Magnus laughed, deep and unapologetic. "Cagmiel? Hah! That place is filled with weak beasts—gnawers, spine crawlers, windrakes. I trained in that place myself back in the day." His eyes flicked toward the woman. "Stacy, just to confirm, any advanced-tier beasts in Cagmiel?"
"None, sir," she replied.
"Then what's the issue?" Magnus asked with a scoff. "It's practically a playground."
Derek didn't back down. "Even basic or intermediate-tier beasts can kill a normal adult, sir. This isn't a playground. This is real life."
Magnus's expression hardened, eyes narrowing slightly. "So what do you want me to do, Derek? Drop the kid from the hunt?"
"We can't," Stacy interjected. "The numbers have already been submitted to Central. A five-man team system means each student is essential to team structure. Removing one would unbalance everything."
"There you have it," Magnus said, folding his arms. "Besides, let me tell you something about hunters. It's not always about abilities. A true hunter is forged in will, in grit, in adaptability. Abilities are tools—not guarantees of survival. That boy should know what he signed up for when he enrolled. This world doesn't wait for the unprepared."
"But still—" Derek tried again.
"Enough," Magnus cut him off. "You and I both know there are hunters out there, elite ones, who don't possess any flashy abilities. Some of the finest warriors in the Outer Rim divisions fight with skill alone. Don't sell the boy short just because he didn't awaken. Maybe this hunt will awaken something else in him. Resolve. Courage. Or maybe he dies. That's the reality we train them for."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"Is that all?" Magnus asked.
"Yes, sir," Stacy replied quietly.
"Then get back to work. The hunt starts tomorrow."
He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The instructors slowly filed out of the room, murmuring among themselves.
Just as Stacy turned to leave, Magnus called out, "Stacy. Let me have a look at the kid."
She nodded and handed him her tablet. The screen lit up with a profile.
There, staring back at him, was the image of a black-haired boy. His eyes, even through the still image, held something—uncertainty, perhaps… or something deeper, something unrefined. The kind of gaze that hadn't yet decided whether to burn bright or flicker out.
Magnus studied the image for a long moment.
"This one," he muttered to himself. "Either he breaks… or he surprises us all."
He handed the tablet back.
"Keep an eye on him. Don't interfere—just observe. Let's see what kind of hunter he becomes… without a crutch to lean on."